Today you will be presented with a lot of choices: what to wear, what to eat, what to buy…  choices of lanes in traffic, choices in the drive thru at Whacky Burger…

You also have a choice of attitude.

You can look at your lot in life and think it stinks and choose to wallow in that.  And, honestly, maybe it does stink.  Maybe your job is rotten, your boss a grumpy taskmaster, your paycheck not an apt reflection of the hard work and dedication you give your employer.

Maybe you’ve been dealt a lousy hand in life.  Illness plagues you or your family.  Finances are tough.  A relationship is broken – seemingly beyond repair.

You can choose to focus on all of the ick in your life, the troubles and miseries.

Or you can choose hope.  You can choose to rise above it.  You can choose to leave the anxieties with the Lord and focus on what He says to do – which is love others, serve, and don’t worry about tomorrow.

We all have choices.  And we have to make them every day.

Negative circumstances only weigh us down when we let them.  Choose hope today.  Focus on Love.  Seek God first.

Have a blessed day, friends!

Detail of St. Patrick stained glass window at St. Benin’s Church, Kilbennan, County Galway, Ireland.  Photo by Andreas F. Borchert.and used here under the Creative Common Attribution-Share Alike license. 

St. Patrick is a figure shrouded in mystery.  While much is known and accepted about the patron saint of Ireland, there is a lot of finscéal out there as well.

As for the truth… believe it or not, Patrick was actually Scottish.  Born in AD 387 to Roman parents.  As a teenager, he was abducted and enslaved in Ireland.  There he found God and several years later escaped and returned home to Britain.  He studied to become a priest.

On 25 March 433, now Bishop Patrick returned to the land of his enslavement to bring the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the Irish people.  He used the three-leafed shamrock to describe the Holy Trinity to the people (hence the Irish affinity for the tri-lobed plant).  After spending many years in humble service to God and the Irish people, living a life of trust in the Lord, Patrick died on 17 March 461 – the date we celebrate as St. Patrick’s Day.

These details we accept.  However, over the centuries, St. Patrick – like many ancient historic figures – has had more than his fair share of myth and malarkey tagged onto his story.  His biography has more unwanted riders attached than a bill being passed by Congress.

Here are a few of the lesser-known, absolutely baseless and outrageous luíonn about St. Patrick.  If you hear any of these at your celebrations tonight, do not believe them:

1. St. Patrick created a sandwich made from soda bread, with corned beef, cabbage and cheese, toasted over a fire until the cheese was melted – hence the world’s first Patty Melt.

2. St. Patrick supported John F. Kennedy for president in 1960.  Indeed, Patrick was a Kennedy supporter from his earliest junior Congressional days.

3. St. Patrick’s favorite movie: The Bells of St. Mary’s.  Least favorite: Snakes on a Plane.

4. St. Patrick once owned a Volvo dealership in Galway.

5. St. Patrick drove the unicorns out of Ireland.

6. In Guangzhou, China, people swim across the Pearl River – not because Chairman Mao did it, but because St. Patrick did.

7. St. Patrick was the Grand Marshall at New York City’s first St. Patrick’s Day parade.

8. St. Patrick claimed to be the writer of the song “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary”, but opted not to file a multimillion euro lawsuit, preferring forgiveness.

9. St. Patrick owned and operated a chain of Pizza Huts across Ireland.

10. As a youngster, Patrick’s friends nicknamed him “Spanky”.

11. It was St. Patrick’s idea to dye the Chicago River green.

12.  Before they were famous, St. Patrick played keyboards with U2.  He left the band over “artistic differences” with lead singer Bono and Bono’s Japanese girlfriend at the time, Yoko.

13. St. Patrick was a renowned clog dancer, taking home the first place trophy in the County Cork Waterdance Invitational a record seven years in a row.

14. St. Patrick once slept here.

15. St. Patrick was once banned from a well-known Las Vegas casino.  Details are murky.

16. St. Patrick was originally cast to play Joey on the sitcom Friends, but was replaced at the last minute by Matt LeBlanc, who the producers felt was more “Jersey”.

17. St. Patrick invented green beer (a claim that will probably be boisterously / foolishly made at many a pub tonight).

18. St. Patrick just happened to be in the audience at Ford’s Theatre the night Lincoln was shot.  He also just happened to be passing through Gettysburg when the president made his famous address.

19.  If you look at the album cover of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, that’s St. Patrick at the top, between W.C. Fields and Edgar Allen Poe.

20. There are only six degrees of separation between St. Patrick and any Irishman.

Hope this put a smile on your face.  Have a blessed and wonderful St. Patrick’s Day!  And remember the good the man actually did in the name of Christ.

My wife says I’m stale.

OK, usually when she says that it’s because I’ve chosen to wear yesterday’s shirt to putter around the house.  And said shirt may or may not be the same yesterday’s shirt I wore yesterday to putter around the house.  (Men, you understand, right?)

This time she isn’t telling me I smell like a musty squirrel.  She is referring to my writing.

That arrow struck close to the heart.

But… she is right.  I keep writing the same stuff.  Like a needle stuck on an album groove.  Like deja vu all over again.  While Deja Vu is a fine Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young album, I do not care to hear it over and over, ad nauseum.

The time has come to mix it up a bit.

You see, life isn’t really compartmentalized.  We break it down into boxes for easy transport and unpacking.  We have our home lives, our work lives, our faith lives, our hobby lives, our family lives…  But, really, isn’t it all just life?

Life is meant be a holistic experience.  In reality, that is exactly what it is. The good, the bad, the ugly. Everything in our lives informs and intersects and infects everything else.  The choices we make, the actions we take, the thoughts we entertain, the words we express, the knowledge we employ, the impressions we leave, the beliefs we hold dear, the people we connect with… all of these aspects of life co-exist and comingle into a cohesive, comprehensive life.

It only makes sense that, if I am going to write, the approach to my words should be holistic as well.  My faith informs my worldview, as do your beliefs in your life.  What I see, what I experience and witness and hear… all these things come into play.

I have been overly myopic in my writing.

I have been overly myopic in my life.

My writing needs to reflect an adventurous spirit.  Faith in Christ is not boring.  It’s not some staid set of religious rules and regs to follow with rigidity.  True faith is expressed in action, in what we do and why.

God created all of life, and He allows us to enjoy His creation.  For that, we should be most thankful.

And He created us to live life as a holistic experience.  And, the more we experience, the better we relate with others – the stronger our ability to empathize, to understand, to love.

So I am expanding my repertoire.  If I eat at a great restaurant, I’m going to tell you about it.  If I read a great book, I’m going to pass that along (like Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken, an emotionally tough yet spiritually rewarding read).  If I know someone is hurting, I’m going to reach out.

I will still write devotionals.  My heart hasn’t changed about helping people overcome anxiety and depression.  But if I can inspire people to lighten up and enjoy life, that also helps lift the dark clouds that descend over our lives.

So it’s time to break the Groundhog Day Syndrome.  Sometimes I’ll write humor.  Sometimes I’ll write on theology.  Sometimes I’ll write about Indiana and the things that make me homesick.  Always I will take a holistic approach.  Always my faith will be at the center, even if it doesn’t appear so overtly.

Just the thought of breaking out into unchartered territory with my writing is giving me goose bumps.  I pray that I can write in a way that gives you goose bumps as well.

For now, I’d better go change this shirt.

I have a long way to go when doing foodie writing.  That Pizzeria Lola piece I wrote last night was a mess.  I left so much out.

I should have told you how the smoky flavor of the charred crust absolutely dances on your tongue.

I should have told you how the Iowan is basically comfort food on a pizza crust.  How the sweetness of the camelized onions balanced so nicely with the garlic, and how it was like your mother’s au gratin potatoes kicked up a notch or twelve.

I should have told you their home-ground sausage have just the right spice, and the toasted fennel seeds really bring out the flavor.

I should have told you that Lola serves Coca-Cola – C-O-L-A cola.  (OK.  That’s my one and only reference to the Kinks’ song.)

I should have told you my eight-year-old gave it a thumb’s up – and that’s saying something!

Unlike Pizzeria Lola, what I served was sub-par.  I apologize.

So, here is what I am gleaning from this (in)experience:

1. Hour #18 of a very long day may not be the best time to write, especially in unchartered territory.

2. Hour #18 of a very long day may not be the best time to post what I write, especially in unchartered territory.

3. Sloooooowwwww dooooowwwwwwnnnnn, Speed Racer.

4. Help the reader actually taste the food I write about, even if they have never tasted it.

5. Avoid coming across as too jazzed about my subject.  Basically I told everyone, “It’s really great!”  Heck, my eight-year-old could have done that.  (At least I avoided the word “very”.)

6.  Focus.  Balance.  Edit.

7. Refocus.  Rebalance.  Re-edit.

8. Repeat step seven.

9. Repeat step eight.

10.  Do not press “send” until you can taste the fennel seeds through your words, and feel the ambience of the music and the din of the conversations and the huge copper wood-fired oven in the center of the small, crowded dining space.

I will do better next time.

Lola… don’t change a thing.

Beautiful day for a drive.  The sun beaming, melting away the remaining snow, warming the air.  As it was late morning when we left, the subject of lunch came up before we had left town.  Austin, my eight-year-old, wanted pizza.  Specifically, he wanted pizza from a well-worn place we have eaten at more times than I can count.

Jennie and I chimed in that we wanted to try something new, something different.  A quick web search of “Minneapolis Best Pizza” brought up Pizzeria Lola at 56th and Xerxes Ave. in Minneapolis.  All agreed to the adventure, and off we went.

As we headed north on Xerxes, through a lovely suburban neighborhood,  I thought we had made a wrong turn.  We were driving past house after house, with no sign of a business.  At last, there it was, sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a café.

Walking in the door, the first thing that hits you is the wall of noise.  This is no place for quiet conversation.  Perfect ambience for our son, who had no trouble keeping up with the volume.  Our wait time was nil (although, from what I understand, that is not always the case).  As soon as we were seated, our server arrived with coloring supplies for Austin – a huge plus!

Pizzeria Lola is quite popular, and for good reason.  For starters, Guy Fieri did a segment on Lola for his “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” program.  (You can watch the clip at http://www.foodnetwork.com/videos/pizzeria-lola-0185011.html).

Plus, the food truly is, as Guy so aptly put it, “off da hook”.  We ordered two pizzas: the My Sha-Roni! and the Iowan (both pictured at top).  The My Sha-Roni!  was pretty standard pizza (red sauce, mozzarella, fresh pepperoni and fennel sausage that they make in-house).  Austin ate two pieces, so you know it’s good!

But the Iowan… oh my… thin sliced potatoes, carmelized onions, bacon, grueye and fontina cheeses..,  This is probably the most original – and one of the best – pizzas I have ever eaten.  Delicious!

And all of their pizzas are 12 inch, thin crust and wood-fired.  There is nothing on earth like a wood-fired pizza, and Lola does them right.  Next time we go, we may try the Korean BBQ pizza.

The wait staff are excellent.  The food is great. The atmosphere is lively.  At $15 a ‘za, you may not want to make a habit of it.  But if you’re looking for some very original and delicious pizza, head to Pizzeria Lola.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” – Romans 12:2 (ESV)

I love the Desert Island Discs game.  The premise goes like this: if you’re going to be stranded on a desert island and can take 20 albums with you, what discs would you choose?  The game is truly ridiculous because, unless your CD player is solar powered, you are going to need to haul an awful lot of batteries with you.

But it is a fun game all the same because it makes you think.  Now, for me, I would have to bend the rules a bit.  For one, I would make mix discs, so I can fill the CDs with the music I love and not deal with skipping past filler songs.  (Ever feel ripped off by a $15 album that had only one or two good songs on it?)  

Not only that, but I would burn my CDs in MP3 format so I can fit a ton more music on my 20 discs that I will play on my solar powered portable CD player with MP3 decoder while lying on a deserted beach, eating fresh caught sea bass and sucking down coconut milk.

One of the songs I would include would be a long time favorite of mine: Supertramp’s “The Logical Song”.  (Relax, Christian friends.  I would have plenty of Rich Mullins, Sara Groves, Bebo Norman, praise and gospel music as well.). If you remember this song, you are probably aging yourself.  It was a hit back in 1979.

The lyrics deal with conformity: how we start out pure enough, only to have certain expectations and norms forced upon us.  We are expected to fit certain labels and march in lockstep, or face being labelled as an outsider. And often we accept certain conformities to the detriment of our created purpose in life, of our selves.

Don’t misunderstand what I am saying.  We live in a society, and societies must have rules, or else chaos will prevail. But, as Paul wrote,  we are not called to conform to the ways of this world.  We aren’t called to be drawn to the temptations and distractions this world has to offer.  We are not meant to follow the life of worldly riches and greed.  

We are called to a life of transformation.  We are all created by God as individuals, meant to serve as unique parts in the larger body of Christ – not merely the local congregation but the church universal.  We are called to love without judgment, to forgive without reservation, to help without question.

The expectation of those of us who follow Christ is not a station in life or fiscal status or popularity contest. We are called to follow Christ’s lead with our whole hearts, not conform to some professional status.    Follow the Holy Spirit, your inner guide.  The thing is, I believe that if each of us would simply still ourselves long enough to hear His voice in the quiet, the confusion of what to do or say would melt away, replaced with certainty of purpose.

So, go ahead.  Thumb your nose at conformity.  Who cares what the labelers think or say?  Refuse to follow anyone but Jesus Christ.  Speak up for Love and Peace.  Be who your Creator made you to be, not what the world wants to mold you into. If that means you’re viewed as a “weirdo” for the sake of Christ, so be it.  

Be a weirdo.

With gusto!

In the end, whose thoughts matter?  Who will have the final word?

15 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world– the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions–is not from the Father but is from the world. 17 And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever. – 1 John 2:15-17 (ESV)

How long are you going to be afraid?

How many nights are you going to sit up worrying?

Why are you fretting about the past, the present, the future?

Why are you embracing anything less than the joy and peace of Jesus?

Open your eyes.  Open your heart.  Open your arms to Jesus.  His arms are open to you.

Cast your anxiety on Jesus, for He cares for you.  He loves you!  Run to God and find forgiveness.  

Find peace.

Find comfort.

Rest in His faithfulness.

The Lord isn’t waiting for you to be worthy to approach.  His grace opens the door for us.

All sin and fall short of God’s holiness.  

We all have worries.  We all have doubts.  We all stumble and sometimes fall flat on our faces.  

We also all have a Savior Who loves us, Who cares about us.

About you.

Go to Him.  Right now.  As you are.  Pray. Open your heart.  Open your eyes.  Run into Jesus’ open arms.

Rest easy.  Come as you are.  Find rest for your mind and soul.

Sleep well, brothers and sisters.  You are loved beyond comprehension.

There it is.  The very first photo I ever took of my son Austin.  He was a mere two days from turning 18 months.  That’s him just right of center – the fuzzy little blue figure holding his caretaker’s hand.

This isn’t the first we caught sight of him.  That had happened about 10 or 15 minutes prior, when the orphanage people escorted the line of beautiful little girls – and one handsome young man – out of the elevator and into a little room away from the prying round eyes of the adopting westerners.  I’m not sure exactly how many minutes we waited because it felt like hours.

But, finally… the moment we had waited years for.  The moment we thought might never come.  The moment that was worth all the uncertainty and worry and pain and prayer and wondering that every adopting parent knows all too well.

Worthy every rug pulled out from under us.

Worth every dead end.

Worth every restless night.

Worth everything.

Everything.

We knew it then.  We know it now. Austin is our great gift from God.  He is our son just as if my wife had given birth to him.  He has my sense of humor and his mom’s tenacity.  A formidable combination if you ask me.

When I look at my beautiful son, my heart beams.  I understand why we had to wait so long.  We had to wait for him to be born.  And I understand that nothing worthwhile comes easy or quick.  No matter how impatient I get.  No matter how fearful I am.  Wait upon the Lord, our Heavenly Father, the Giver of all good things.

I look at this photo – the first of thousands so far – and I still feel the rush of it all.  The excitement.  The anxiety of being a dad  The worry that I wouldn’t be able to be a good dad.  That beautiful, peaceful little face.

That night, when we put our baby in his crib for the very first time, it really struck me.  I am a dad.  I kept waking up just to look at him.

I think back now and I am assured: God keeps His promises.

I keep having the same dreams night after night.  To clarify, the scenes and people change.  Surroundings vary from dream to dream.  But they tend to fall in the same thematic line: I need to get things done.

My dreams are haunted with the fear that I am not doing what I ought to be doing, not completing what I should. In the wrong place.  Traveling the wrong path.  Others around me oblivious to my misalignment but pressuring me to get on with it.

I am not one who believes in dream interpretation as some mystical path to our destinies or deep meanings or any of that stuff.  But I do recognize that dreams as the brain’s subconscious attempt to make some sense of all the data it is trying to process: knowledge, emotions, perceptions, experiences, opinions, confusions, mysteries… and sometimes just crap.

I realize I live a life that is largely nonconducive to my true self.  I am not talking about family, but other aspects.  I also realize I have to make some changes – some of which would have been much easier 25 years ago, when I was too young, dumb and lazy.  

But… it is never too late to change things, right?  It is the little things that add up.  It is what I do now, not what I whine about having not done a quarter century ago.

The problem is that I am not being me.  My writing reflects it.  My life reflects it.

I don’t want my child to reflect it.  I want him to be fearless.  I have been just the exact opposite.  I have listened to too many critics (myself included).  I have chosen the easy / “safe” path of least resistance.  That path is only safe as long as things don’t change.

The problem with the safe path is that things do change.

And I need to change.  Which means changing paths.  Which means being able to look the critics in the eye (especially the one looking back in the mirror) and say, “Shove off.”  (Use stronger language, if you must.  But not within earshot of the kidlets.)

My son needs to see Dad being who God created Dad to be.  I need to finally let go of the criticisms – real and imagined and inflated – and be.

Be creative.

Be funny.

Be me, out loud.

I fit no molds – the perpetual square peg crammed in a round hole that his far too small for his oversized frame.  It’s time to celebrate the uniqueness that is my God-created self.  Not in an ego centered way, but in a manner that helps others do the same.

Time to face the world with faith-filled grit and determination and joy and laughter and strength.