the great american past-time

Titus starts t-ball tomorrow. This is his first year to play. He's very excited. And I am too. His team, if you can't put 2 and 2 together, is the Dodgers. He didn't get to do soccer because by the time I sent in the registration it was full. So, we'll look forward to lots of games at the Macken Park ball diamonds for the next two months. Watch for some pictures. (And I'll admit, it does bother me that he has to play for an NL team that is not the Cubs! Hey, but at least it isn't the Cardinals, right?)

That was really cool.

I had my first official Chris Farley moment at the Education Writer's Association convention in Chicago tonight. The keynote speaker was Steve James, the guy who made "Hoop Dreams," one of my all-time favorite films. After his talk, James was surrounded by a throng of admirers. I, of course, was one of them.

Pretty freakin' cool, if you ask me.

Love this town

Dearest loved ones,
I made it safely to the place they call "The Windy City," and boy, was that true, as I purt near got bucked out of my plane seat. I took the "orange train" to Roosevelt Station. People are very nice here and they sure are pious. They talk about Jesus Christ all the time. They also talk about their mothers a lot, though not necessarily in a kindly way. Anyhow, switched to the "red train" (didn't see any communists, though) and got off two exits too late. Had to turn around at Grand, I think, right next to the Really-Blowin'-Snot-That's-Expensive Mile.

Here's me and my new beauty spot at the train station exit (why is my nose taking a left turn?).
Everyone seems to be in a hurry here, so I authoritatively set out down the street and walked two blocks in the wrong direction. A nice man at a bus station let me know that "the lake is that way." Phew, thank you, sir! Got back on track and again tried to act like the locals, which mostly seems to involve stepping in front of turning taxis. Arrived safely at the hotel and got some latte in the smallest Starbucks I've ever seen, about the size of Titus' closet. Finished my last story for the week while sipping my drink in the hotel lobby. Was eventually allowed to check in. Here's me with my room's view of other buildings.

This afternoon, I walked with a couple of other reporter types to the Tribune building for a session about how to use technology to make reporters work a lot more than they already are. Once again, we set off with authority up Michigan Ave. After two blocks, the woman we were with started saying, "I thought the Tribune building was that way" while pointing in the direction opposite our own. Our little band's alpha male (not me) kept saying, "No, no. Trust me. It's this way." That was until he stopped and said, "Isn't the river north of us?" (negative)
Reorientated, we found the inconspicuous Tribune Building and made it to the session.
Tomorrow, I hope to get lost on the way to Lou Malnatti's.
Peace and love,
Ray

From Sojouners ...

Imagine by Jim Wallis

In The Great Awakening, I wrote,

Imagine something called Justice Revivals, in the powerful tradition of revivals past but focusing on the great moral issues of our time.

Imagine linking the tradition of Billy Graham with the tradition of Martin Luther King Jr.

Imagine a new generation of young people catching fire and offering their gifts, talents, and lives in a new spiritual movement for social justice.

Imagine disillusioned believers coming back to faith after many years of alienation, while other seekers discover the power of faith for the first time.

Imagine politics being unable to co-opt such a spiritual revival but being held accountable to its moral imperatives.

Imagine social movements rising out of spiritual revival and actually changing the wind of both our culture and our politics.

Last week in Columbus, Ohio, that vision came to life. The first night, as I stood on the stage looking out over a church filled with 3,500 people inspired by Matt Redman's opening worship music, I felt a sense of amazing grace. Over the next three evenings, more than 10,000 people attended. There would have been more if they could have gotten into the Vineyard Church -- this largest church in Columbus seats 3,500 people, but it turned out to be too small for the crowd. Pastor Rich Nathan of Vineyard and Bishop Timothy Clarke of the First Church of God, the co-chairs of the revival, led the services. My three sermons focused on the call to conversion, the call to community, and the call to justice.

Hundreds of people came forward to commit their lives to Christ for the first time, and thousands came down the aisle to commit themselves to the social justice that is core to the kingdom of God, to the "least of these" whom Jesus calls us to care for. The Columbus Dispatch headlined a story, "The Justice Revival: Faithful aim to aid poor, as Jesus did," and wrote:

The revival ... is a call to walk the walk and dig into issues about which Jesus preached, such as helping the poor.

Our call to the churches was to make the city of Columbus their "parish" – that the churches of the city together take responsibility for what happens in their city. The whole spectrum of the churches, from the most conservative to the most liberal, supported the revival. On Thursday evening, 50 pastors from those churches joined on the stage for an altar call to make Columbus the parish of the churches in the city.

Friday evening, an inspiring challenge by Dr. Gene Harris, superintendent of Columbus Public Schools, asked for mentors who would develop relationships with the city's children led to hundreds of responses. On Saturday following the revival, the Dispatch wrote that the "Revival's faithful take good will onto streets":

About 2,000 people -- many of them teenagers, college students, and young adults -- took to the streets of Columbus yesterday for community-service projects that put their Christian faith into action.

Governor Ted Strickland of Ohio came to our "City Leaders Lunch," as did Mayor Michael Coleman of Columbus, city council members, many nonprofit organizations, and many more pastors. They spoke together about communication and collaboration, and the partnerships among them that could change the city.

Billboards announcing the Justice Revival were all over town and simply said, "Love God? End Poverty." By the end of the week, the stories of how people wanted to follow Jesus into relationship with the poor of Columbus were changing the image of Christianity in the city. And that change will continue, as one local pastor said in the press:

Bethany Christian Church's co-pastor, Elaine Fennell, reminded the volunteers that their mission didn't end yesterday. "We cannot sleep, not until poverty is no more and no child is hungry and they all have shelter and clothing," Fennell said. "You are the beginning of a revived movement. We are going back up the mountain, and we cannot rest."

It was an extraordinary week, even more than I had hoped. As we discern how to move forward, many other cities now want Justice Revivals in their communities. Just imagine!

why i'm still awake at 0400

Titus is asleep in my bed.
I don't want to lug his 50# body to his bed.
My sleep machine is in my room.
Facebook keeps suggesting more people I might know and want to be friends with.
I drank a nasty cup of coffee at 11:30.
Titus is asleep in my bed.
I don't want to lug his 50# body to his bed.
I can't collapse on the couch.
My sleep machine is in my room.
Titus is asleep in my bed.

*Ray admiringly calls my cpap machine get up my "alien egg layer" - I thought the picture was appropriate - love you honey!

Cyberpunk angst

This song says it all:

Dumpster Diving on Quality Hill

There are a few things that my husband endures when it comes to my personality and the sometimes questionable antics it tends to produce. Dumpster diving with no shame is one of those questionable antics. Well, tonight he indulged me. Maybe it was because it is birthday week. Maybe it was because spring has finally arrived to the KC metro area. All I know is that his willingness to go along with things tonight scored us a very nice chaise lounge.

Here's how it went down. After a slightly above average meal at Manny's, I suggested we take the long way home with a little tour through Quality Hill. (If you're not familiar with KC, Quality Hill is a downtown neighborhood with great views such as the one above. It is a mix of a few old mansions and newly built row houses.)

We zigzagged our way through the neighborhood, fantasizing about an alternate lifestyle that would involve higher paying jobs and money for private school, but mostly just enjoying the lovely neighborhood. And then it happened. "Whoa! Honey, turn around. There was a great chair in that dumpster back there." It really just sort of spontaneously slipped out. I knew that Ray would not humor me without further cajoling. " Just drive me back there and let me check it out. You can duck or go park the car a block away and pretend you don't know me. But please, can I at least look at it?" "You don't know how hard this is for me", he said as made a u-turn in the next intersection.

Now I don't mean this in the literal sense, but two angels suddenly appeared in the form of hip young ladies who obviously lived in the area. "Oh, you're taking that great chair!" "Yeah! And for the record, my husband in no way approves of what I'm doing here. But reduce, reuse, recycle, right?" "Absolutely! (OK, maybe they didn't say absolutely - but they did OBVIOUSLY approve of what I was doing!) Did you find the cushion for it? I saw a cushion with the same fabric in a dumpster in the upper lot. Just go down here to the corner and take a left then another left." "Thanks!"

Not to be thwarted by the daunting task of getting an overstuffed chaise lounger into a VW Passat, we lifted the cumbersome chaise into the trunk and secured it with jumper cables. At this point my gratitude for Ray's agreement to go along with my whole escapade was making it almost tolerable for him. Plus the affirmation of two young successful looking women eased his embarrassment. And to top it all off, our McGyver-ing the chair into the trunk had just enough tinge of mechanical genius to make him the slightest bit proud.

Our trip up a pretty steep incline on the way to the pot of gold ...er, uh... I mean the upper lot dumpster that supposedly held the cushion to said chaise lounger, convinced us that the chair would indeed make it across the river to our house. But all of that satisfaction was eclipsed by adolescent exuberance when I spotted the cushion. The angels were right! There it was! My little end-zone celebration was a moment of complete glee. And to my surprise, even Ray was grinning, although later he said it was not so much about the chair, but about my obvious delight in the whole thing.

What a lovely story, huh? Well, chapter two wouldn't be so great. The honeymoon was quickly over when we lumbered up the steps to the back door and realized that this chair was a BEAST! But after one hour of flipping and pushing, two doors being removed from their hinges, door jambs being popped off for the first time in 80 years, and a few words on the "Titus don't ever repeat what Mommy just said list" ... we finally got that thing upstairs to the playroom. We each took a turn lounging in the chair and declared it a worthy dive indeed.

* Here's the denoument of the story line. I guess I have just signed up for my first upholstery project. The chair actually could use some new foam on the arms. It is very solid, just needs some padding. When I suggested getting it reupholstered, my sweat-soaked hubby declared "NO! This thing is NEVER leaving this room."

High anxiety

As close as I'll ever come to that trail:

Free movie score music from Moby

Yet another reason why Moby is one of the coolest humans of the planet:

"no handlebars" by the flobots

an awesome song by a hip hop outfit from Denver:

freaked OUT!

So we had a great spring afternoon here in KC. After picking up Titus at school, we did homework and then headed to the garage to stain our bamboo blinds. Deciding it was really a grown-up's job, Titus opted to ride his bike around the drive way. I need to back up I guess.

Titus had already run down the street, four houses away, to see if his buddy Evan could play. He immediately came home saying that Evan was at someone else's house. That is when we headed out to stain the blinds and ride the bike.

After about 15 minutes or so. Titus heard Evan's voice. "Mom, can I go see if Evan is home now?" As always, I followed up my affirmative answer with "come right back".

Being engaged in my staining project, I didn't keep track of the minutes. It must have been 10 minutes later - maybe 15 - could have been 20 - and I realized - no Titus. I made the trek up the street, paint brush in hand, a bit irritated with my boy who was, no doubt, playing at Evan's. But his mom said, "nope, Titus isn't here. He came by about an hour ago and I told him Evan wasn't home." After a brief discussion about suspicious dog deaths in our neighborhood, I said I needed to go find him. "I expect he came back home and went inside. See you later."

I called for Titus in the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, his bedroom - upstairs, downstairs. No response. Outside under the front porch. No answer. Still figuring that he was playing somewhere with Evan, I was miffed. And just a tad bit concerned. Down the alley, his name being called out with increasing volume - no answer. Back inside. "Answer me, Titus. Where are you?"

Now I'm equally mad and scared, but still in control. Another trip up the street. Another round through the house. Another look under the porch and down the alley both ways. Nothing. Evan and some other kids peered out on the next block over. "Have you seen Titus?" Up the street again, another kid - "have you seen Titus?" Back down to our house. "Titus!" Across the street again, "Is Titus hiding? I need to know if he's with you?"

I can no longer say I don't know what it feels like to lose a child. At least I now know the initial feeling a parent has when their kid has disappeared. One more time through the house, this time through sobs, my voice losing control a bit. Elizabeth, who is living with us, came out of her room. "Titus is missing." Quickly she came out, looking across the street, headed around the corner. I'm sobbing now. It has been 25 - 30 minutes since he left to see if Evan could play.

I was walking toward the back of the house when the switch flipped. This is it. This is our son. We are the crying parents on TV - amber alert - how could I let this happen - Ray's going to be so mad at me - oh God, where is he? Titus!

I grabbed my phone and called 911. The woman on the other end told me I needed to calm down so that she could understand me. "I can't find my son. My son is gone. He's five." Still sobbing, still calling out his name, answering her questions. "Where did you last see him?" Now Evan's mom is on her porch holding her baby. Evan and the other kids across the street are calling for Titus.

All of the emotions were there. He was really gone. And then Elizabeth yells from the alley, I could see her between the houses - I found him! "We found him." I told the 911 lady. He's OK. We found him.

I sat and held my baby. Right there in my neighbor's drive way. Small boy. My boy. He was lost and now found. He was OK. Still alive. Still mine. Still safe.

*I needed to write this. I'm obviously glad this had a happy ending. But believe me. Even though we had a happy ending, I spent a solid 5 minutes thinking my only child was gone - taken - abducted. My emotions were 100% of the "my baby is gone variety". It was intense. I feel like I was run over by a truck physically. Emotionally, I quickly recovered. But the pure adrenaline driven emotion of losing a child is like nothing I've ever experienced in my life. I wish I could put it into words. Such a solitary experience. I'm so sorry for all of those parents who have not had the happy ending.