In the Not Remotely Funny Department.

I believe I shall unbookmark the Freakonomics bog.

For the past several years, newspapers have been reporting on their own circulation declines with a strange degree of intensity. They write prominent, mournful, self-flagellating stories of their own decline that remind me of a friend who used to sniff his own underarm when he knew it was particularly randy.

Eye Opening Tuesday

Eye Opener Number 1:
1pm, my crowded office, Marketing team meeting. With assistant, 2 designers, outgoing marketing coordinator and incoming marketing coordinator present, I make a reference to The Waltons. First one, then another - eventually all of them - admit they've never, ever seen The Waltons. One asks "Wasn't it like Little House on the Prairie?" I am a fossil.

Eye Opener Number 2:
3pm, the cell phone, Kelsey on the other end. She announces "This Suburban is the bomb!" Why? "Because I'm on my way home from Costco where I dropped $200 on groceries and it barely made a dent in the space in the back of the truck."

In answer to your question...

I know, I know. Many of you are wondering "If I leverage Halloween for evangelism, will I risk offending my overtly pagan neighbors?

Turns out not.

The Christian Science Monitor has an article tracking evangelism efforts surrounding Halloween and quotes Mary Gelfand, a Wiccan high priestess in New Orleans.

"She notes that Satan, like Halloween, is a Christian invention of no importance to pagans, who practice an earth-centered spirituality. What pagans do in communicating with deceased ancestors has nothing to do with the commercial act of trick-or-treating, she says. Therefore, she's not troubled by Christian efforts to make it an occasion for evangelism.

"They're not affecting my holiday," Ms. Gelfand says. "If [evangelism] is a meaning they want to reinsert in this, that doesn't really bother me."

There you have it, sports fans. Toss in a Chick Track with those Mike-n-Ikes. The pagans are saying 'no blood, no foul'.

Of course, if you're planning a Hallelujah Harvest Hoe Down, you'd better hope GL doesn't show. He demands premium candy and manly-man pastors. :) Has it been a year already?!?

an afternoon in the prayer room...

I'm a morning guy. That's when I'm normally in the prayer room. I don't do many afternoons - they're usually taken up by meetings and such. Today is flip flopped. This morning was my morning to drive the school car pool and by the time I got back to IHOP it was Meetingzilla 2006.

Now here I am, 1:45pm and making my way into the prayer room, where I'm reminded of my experience last week. While picking up our truck, I was invited to sit in on a prayer group in a church. The leader specifically didn't introduce me because apparently a prayer missionary makes people nervous when it's time to pray. The discussion centered around how hard it was to live a life of prayer, how easy it was to be distracted and how often we fail. I had to smile, knowing that these were the same questions we ponder around the table in the IHOP coffee shop. Prayer missionary or no prayer missionary, being a person of prayer is not something that comes natural to many people.

In being a person of prayer, consistency trumps charisma, and humility casts a much longer shadow than the desire to be seen or even understood. Everything that would make one bigger, best or first in almost any other role is tossed aside. None of it works before the Father. He is not impressed with our organization or even our ideals. He's more touched by our showing up with a yes in our spirit.

Yes. Yes, father.

Sometimes that is the only prayer I can muster. Fortunately, it's the only one He wants to hear.

Grayson's Nightmare....

What's worse?

• Being nine years old and having your shirt stuck on your head?
• Being nine years old and having your mom take that shirt off?
• Or just your dad doing the color commentary while wielding the video camera?

stripes-b-gone

We discovered that Zoe's new crib had a major crack in the front of it, so I started this morning off by disassembling it (not as hard as it sounds) hauling the front piece back to where we bought it. They swapped it out no questions asked. When the crack is staring right at you, there aren't a lot of questions left.

I had to force myself to use the Montero, which is now being referred to as "The Little Truck." it was the Big Truck until the other day. Funny how things change.

I dig this Suburban. This afternoon, I peeled off the tacky silver pinstripe, leaving the truck in complete black-out mode. While I still think of it as the Johnny Cash Tour Bus, several people have taken a look at it and flatly announced "Secret Service". I think I'm going to start driving it crazy-fast and parking whever the heck I want and see if anyone else falls for it.

Zoe Photo of the Week

My Purpose Driven Suburban

I should have brought my $10,000 shirt to Georgia. It was that kind of day. A good friend felt the Lord told him to address our vehicle issues, and presented us with a 2002 Suburban yesterday. It's Johnny Cash Black with tan leather and stretches about forty feet in length. That's just an estimate, don't quote me. Anyway, it radically fixes our seating issues and we are incredibly grateful to God and His fine folks.

The alarm went off way to early this morning. I go up and drove the 100 miles or so to meet Gary Lamb for breakfast. I have decided that Gary is a postmodern Popeye. ("I yam who I yam"). Gotta love him! We really had a good time - thanks for the pancakes and the ride, Gary!

Unfortunately, after breakfast my Johnny Cash Tour Bus would not start. Gary, ever the mercy person, was quick to point out (repeatedly) that "Even though it doesn't start, it really looks good....". Gary got me to a Chevy dealer who swapped out the battery and I was off, headed north and west. 850 miles is a long day no matter what you're driving.

First USA TODAY, now THIS

I heard a rumor they were going to publish this but kind of doubted it. They swiped it from Steve Sjogren's Serve-Others magazine. I hope he splits the fat honorarium with me. :)

No wonder I'm tired. Gary Lamb and Rick Warren. That's a lot for one day.

Random Thoughts...

Thoughts generated early in the morning on MCI's freebie wifi.
iPod set to playlist/flylist/shuffle.

1) This whole deal about not bringing coffee into the boarding area does not make me feel safer. In fact, considering the look in some of these unfortunately decaffienated peoples' eyes, I feel somewhat threatened.

2) I knew I'd been flying Southwest a little too often when I was surprised at the Delta crew's neat appearance. Something about those Southwest folks in shorts and polos makes me feel like I am at summer camp. Having worked summer camps, it is not comforting to think that they are the people in charge in case of a water landing.

3) Tomorrow morning, I-75 exit 290 in Georgia, the Cracker Barrel will host an unprecidented meeting of the minds as I throw down pancakes and hashbrowns with this guy, who graciously juggled his schedule to make the connect (out of morbid curiosity, perhaps....). Be very, very afraid. The ideas generated between us may cause the ' Barrel to spontaneously combust.

4) I owe Brent Steeno. Greater love hath no man, than he would pick him up at 5am and drive him to the airport. And if he actually keeps blogging this time, he gets linked with the peeps to the right. Hey Brent - HINT: That font is huge, Bro. Blogger have mercy....

5) No clue if there's wifi where I'm going, but if not, peace out. I'll be back in 36hrs at the longest.

bloggable

Overheard at our homework table as Jackson works on an algebra problem where the process is the answer and Dad is trying to jump to the end:

"I'm not looking for the pot of gold; I'm looking for the rainbow."

thoughts from the prayer room

I didn't get far into Galations this morning. I got snagged on a verse. Not even a whole verse - a verselette? Just a phrase squirrelled away in the first few verses.

Galatians 1
3 Grace to you and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, 4 who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, 5 to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

Something about that phrase "...that He might deliver us from this present evil age" grabbed me. How did Paul think about the day he lived in? What were his thoughts about his time frame - his window on the timeline?

Our human hearts have a funny relationship with our time. We're apprehensive about time forward. We're nostalgic about time past. Time now? We call it precious. Short. To be treasured.

It's all true, of course, but Paul's tapping into something here - it's also inherently evil. They age we live in is flawed at the core. Something is wrong with the now. The universe, at it's present angle, speed and trajectory, is operating incorectly. The creator and creation are estranged. Our times are evil.

On the other side of the globe, in a country where they're too poor to keep the lights on, Kim Jong-il claims he has discovered how to split the atom. Global leaders worry and entire people groups cower in fear: What kind of a world will we have when a madman has the power to tear apart the basic building block of the physical world?

I wonder what kind of a world we will have when the God of all things exercises His own power to tear apart the basic meauring stick of our lives...time.

Kim Jong-il's atomic maybe was nothing compared to the reaction to come, when the Creator breaks in on the one variable that man has not even dreamed of deconstructing. We have gone to great lengths to affect our environment - earth, sea and sky. We have built stations in the sky and torn atoms to bits in underground bunkers, yet God is coming to split time...to tear the now from the then.

Hold very loosely to the now. Some time better is coming. You don't want to a death grip on the day that falls to the left of the axe when He chooses to deliver us from this present evil age.

If.

If you had a small boy, a bucket of black paint, yellow walls and cream carpet....well, there is no way to arrange those specific ingredients and not come out with a mess. That's all I'm saying.

i(re)Podcast

Some months ago, I subjected myself to an interview for the Onething podcast. Apparantly, I either did so well or so poorly that they wanted to give it another go and interviewed me again. Lee Harvey Oswald faced fewer questions before being plugged by Jack Ruby.

Actually, I just think D. Wayne Roberts enjoys interviewing the follically challenged.

Regardless of his logic, you can subscribe here.

Saturday Recap...

Today was a work day around (and on) the house. Literally on the house. We woke up to a gentle rain, which coupled with our two oak trees and falling leaves, meant I needed to climb up on the roof. In the rain. And clean out our gutters, lest they overflow. There's something about walking around on the roof of your house in the rain that makes your neighbors stop and stare, muttering "Dufus".

Later, I had to take Grayson for a haircut. Grayson has amazing hair. It's dark, soft and THICK. While living in the DC area, we took him to a barbershop with an African American staff and clientele. The poor guy cutting his hair gently took a handful of it, looked at his coworker and asked "Is this kid a sheep?" Regardless, we need to shear him today. It looks good.

This evening, I drew on my Assemblies of God background and assembled Zoe's crib. These things are usually nightmarish ordeals, with misfit parts and Portugese directions, but this setup was amazingly simple. Eight bolts and ka-boom. Instant furniture.

Days like today underscore how much I love my family. I love having them around me. I love puttering around the house and hearing the boys wrestle in the basement or Zion pounding on the drums. I even loved putting a crib together while juggling a little girl in one arm. Good times - Dynomite! to quote J.J. Walker.

No more complaining, you people....

At this rate...

At this rate, Zoe and I might as well go and join Stuart's staff.

The Royal Order of the Gun Club

The Royal Order of the Gun Club met this morning at our agreed upon, undisclosed location. It's been a long time since all the ol' six shooters were in the same display case.

Since our last meeting, we have been dispersed to Las Vegas, Disneyland, Alaska, Peculiar and parts beyond. We've been separated by the coniving cabal of constraints that life puts on men with stuff to do. It felt good to sit by the fake fire and sip a cup of the dark murky stuff that makes morning bearable.

The primary discussion of the Gun Club centered on one of our member's construction project, namely his conversion of an old shed in his back yard into a sort of Garaj Mahal. What started out as bare walls and floor now sports drywall, hardwood, lights, and still no bathroom. It's an exotic ice fishing house with no frozen lake....a Man Shed for those times when a man just needs no companionship.

All told, it was good to be among the bretheren - as always. The barrista seems to have made the adjustment to our meetings being held on Thursdays, the coffee is still good, the conversation vibrant, the advice flows freely as well as the grace to ignore it. Time with the Gun Club is time well spent.

Endless Blog Loop

This is me linking to USA today linking to me. Cue the Lion King, it's the circle of life....

From the Oil and Water Department

I told you it was a sacriledge and should not be. Technology has the potential of doing horrible things if we do not keep things in their natural order.

From Apple.com

We recently discovered that a small number - less than 1% - of the Video iPods available for purchase after September 12, 2006, left our contract manufacturer carrying the Windows RavMonE.exe virus. This known virus affects only Windows computers, and up to date anti-virus software which is included with most Windows computers should detect and remove it. So far we have seen less than 25 reports concerning this problem. The iPod nano, iPod shuffle and Mac OS X are not affected, and all Video iPods now shipping are virus free. As you might imagine, we are upset at Windows for not being more hardy against such viruses, and even more upset with ourselves for not catching it.

I'm not sure a hit CD would have mattered.

Last week, I listened to a podcast from WGBH. They do a regular feature called Morning Stories that reinforces my belief that no fiction writer can compare with the intrigue that is inherent in people telling their own life story.

In the 10.3.06 edition, jazz musician Stan Strickland tells his story of a tragic surfing accident. Without getting into the details, he gets slammed against the bottom and messes himself up pretty bad. As a wave picks him up to smash him down again, he is convinced he will die. In that moment, he has a thought....

"....suddenly another wave comes...and I can't breath. I feel like , I don't know, this is it...and I'm going to be washed up on the beach...and I don't even have a hit cd. No legacy. Nothing to claim I've done anything...."

I don't even have a hit cd. How amazing. This poor guy fully believes he's about to be killed in the ocean and his first thought is "I don't even have a hit cd."

As I listened to his story, I began to wonder about people who we think have made it in life. Rock stars. Pro atheletes. Titans of business. In that moment, as they're about to be dashed against the rocks and dragged out to sea, do they say "Dude....at least I had a hit cd?"

I'm convinced that the majority of people are aspiring to things that, once achieved, will ring hollow at the end of their lives. Just ask the rich and successful on their deathbed - are you fulfilled? Was the hit cd all you hoped it would be?

Think a little bit about what constitutes 'making it' in your book. What is success to you? And if you were convinced at this moment that it was the end of your earthly days, would it matter at all if you'd accomplished it? If not, you might want to reevaluate. Not everyone gets a Stan Strickland moment. We would do well to borrow the lesson from him rather than risk not getting a chance to learn it first hand until it's too late.

Cool things about Noella's blog...

Meet Noella. We've known her for a long time. For a brief while, we lived in an emu infested commune together, but that's a whole 'nother blog entry.

I love her blog, primarily because it includes a photo of my mom, and another with this guy in the background, although Noella - who apparantly doesn't know a blogstar when she sees one - refers to him as "the guy in the background".

Ha! The world is so tiny, man....

Steve Urkel Lives

Everyone makes a mistake once in a while, right?

In what could be the Steve Urkel 'Did I do that?' of a lifetime, Casino developer Steve Wynn (note identical first name) poked his elbow through a $139 million Picasso.

Ouch. That will seriously affect his homeowner's insurance premiums.

Huh?

Remember the S.S. Family Truckster - the one I mentioned was getting way too small? The reporter in the field just told me that they broke the back seat. How do you break a seat?

If this information is accurate, we have just entered into the zone of shuttling our family from spot to spot!

the morning shift.

Early morning finds me perched on the end of the couch, a cup of Starbucks Verona on the end table, laptop in it's place and Zoe in hers. 'Hers', for the moment, is this little ovoid sleeping platform / bouncy thing that, when the switch is activated, jiggles like an eternal 2.5 level earthquake. Babies find this comforting, although I find it interesting that there is no adult equivelant.

We got up at 4am, which I know sounds like death to some, but was just fine with me. She is back asleep now and I'm just enjoying the quiet.

I've been thinking a lot about life in the last few days. Adding one to the family probably lends itself to a little introspection anyway, but I think this thought progression has been God-prompted rather than circumstantial. Being responsible for six people now makes me think a little more about intentionality and efficency. I am reevaluating a lot of things and asking is that the best way?

Some of the things I'm considering are purely temporal...like what happens when we all decide to go somewhere together. As it is, we can all fit in the S.S. Family Truckster, providing we don't do something crazy like try to bring the stroller. Or a backpack. Or a grilled cheese sandwhich. There is technically seating for seven, but two of the seven would need to have their legs removed to ride in the rearmost seat for very long.

Not everything in my head relates to simple logistics though. I'm thinking a lot about my own life. About impact. About what the wisest course of action would be, and how to train myself to identify that course straightaway, rather than taking a long time to land on it.

At 39 years old, it's very easy to fall into the trap of ambition under the guise of a desire to make a difference. It's wholly possible to gallantly ride off to slay dragons while secretly trying to make a name for ones self.

This morning, here in the dark with the hum of the baby bouncer melding in with the classical music on my iPod, I'm realizing that I could bolt off toward the horizon on foot and do pretty well, or I could take the time to hone the arrows in my quiver and have four times the impact in twenty years. If I can find the humility to prefer my children over myself, within two decades (earlier, really) I would see dividends that would far surpass anything I might accomplish in my own strength.

Here in the dark, I am acutely aware that I am stewarding potential. I am coaching greatness, whether or not I know much of it first hand. I feel a heart connect to the idea of tempering my life, controling my schedule and trimming my own ambitions so that one day, my legacy would be waging war on four fronts rather than one. To me, this feels like wisdom.

Go ahead, Don Quixotes, go chasing your windmills. I intend to concentrate on the arrows in my quiver. Wisdom will reveal herself soon enough.

Get yourself a Sean...

Sean is with us this week for a few days....if you don't have a Sean, you need to get one.

Last week, he and his beee-loved drove a refrigerator sized rental car from Los Angeles to Las Vegas to spend one day with Kelsey and I. They fed us killer food and made us go fun places in between visiting our baby. At the end of the day, they got back in the refrigerator and drove it back to LA.

He showed up in KC last night and took my kids to a bbq dive where they saw Grand Theft Pork Ribs take place (the food was recovered when the cook ran out after the theif - no joke). I went home for lunch and he was making us a salad. I just heard he fixed the wifi router at the house. Did I mention he gave the baby her 6am bottle so we could get a few more zzzzz's?

Sean - you are simply amazing. We love you big time. And Blondie too.

You need to get yourself a Sean. But not ours. Get your own.

downtime sunday....

After getting yesterday morning, we we spent the day alternately napping. This was not energy-replenishing napping, but simple surival mode after the all night airplane ride from Hades.

We had the best of intentions to be in church this morning. In fact, I was scheduled to do announcements...around 6am I realized that I could be hauled into court for crimes of inhumanity to my family if I did what would have to be done to get them all out the door and to church on time. Around 9am I called the game off, phoned in a fill-in for announcements, and went back to bed. We slept another hour and then spent the day laying low (except for Kelsey, who's job as Mother of Four necessitated a grocery run.

Tomorrow, I'm back at it though.

Home

Our 7:40pm flight boarded promptly at midnight. Forty five minutes later, when the co pilot arrived, we shut the cabin. Ten minutes later, we opened it to throw a drunk off the plane.

Then we waited. About a half hour, in a lightening storm.

Then we backed away from the gate to wait in line behind 36 other planes.

We landed around 7am, but I am home and am not returning to Trash Vegas any time soon.

another hour?

I am about to organize wheelchair races and ain't nobody stopping me.

The forty people with tickets on this turnip truck are about to go Lord of the Flies on the whole concourse.

Guess Where I Am?

Yep. Still in Vegas. This puts us in KC about....oh....3am? If we ever get out of here.

whaaaat?

Our flight circled Las Vegas in a lightening storm and bolted to Reno before it ran out of fuel and bonked into the desert floor. Reno? It went to Reno for fuel?

I swear I will get out of this town tonight, even if I have to rent that Caddy again.

Blogged with one finger, holding Zoe in the arm, as I sit in an airport wheelchair surrounded by carry-ons, just daring the airport wheelchair wranglers to boot me out....

WIFIOAP

Why is it so hard to figure out a way to provide WIFI on an airplane? Three junior high kids with a hundred dollar Best Buy gift card could make it work if you'd let'm.

But NOOOOOOO.

Praise God for video podcasts.

I kid you not...

They just called final boarding for a SW flight to Reno - "Final Call for Flight 1999."

If you didn't come to party....how come you got a ticket on my plane?"

Now you're gonna be singing that all night long.

for you praying types....

Ok, gang. We are seeing miracles. Large scale, parting of the waters, Exodus type stuff. Get this...

Yesterday, we were told one of us would most likely have to stay in Vegas with Zoe for another 10 working days. This morning, while chasing down some documentation, the FBI acted like they had no idea who we are. The FBI. No kidding.

Anyway, it was looking dark and getting darker. I had to fly home Sunday and leave Kelsey and Zoe here in what I have come to call the Municipality of Iniquity.

At 3pm pacific time today, my phone rang - it was the local social worker saying "You're free to go."

"Who's free to go?" I asked.

"All of you - your whole family."

I'm sitting at the Las Vegas airport sipping a Grande Latte with an extra shot. In case it was a mistake, I'm not answering my cell phone. We are booked on the 7:40pm flight for KC - we are SO outta here!

We are tired.

Tired of the FBI. Tired of cell phones. Tired of rental cars and tired of Vegas.

A few days ago, we called intercessors who made serious war and moved a mountain for us - we went from "we have a problem" to "enjoy your baby" in about 20 minutes.

Now we need the same favor to get our paperwork rushed through as soon as possible so we can get this baby home. Please pray - 90 second prayers count, especially when multiplied times numbers of blog readers.

It hit me today. I have a girl.

I've been waiting for this epiphinal eureka moment and it hit me today. At the laudramat, or as our Cajun friend from college used to say - the washateria.

I was pulling stuff out of the dryer. I've done this before. It's generally pretty dark, given my penchant for black shirts. Little boys clothes run the gamut of color, but if you wash them all together long enough, they all get the same gray. Keep in mind that we're raising 3 boys, so 30% of these clothes are on their third trip through the cloest. Now, Kelsey is rather colorful - just the other day she was sporting a green shirt and blue headband with her dark red pig-tails - but she's been simply outnumbered by my black shirts & the boys' simulated camo.

The load I did tonight had to be 50% pink. Bright pink. Pale pink. Pink with bows. Pink with elephants. Pink with pink trim and white daisies. Nothing like our normal laundry. I picked up a little dress that looked like it would fit a Chihauhua and thought 'how the heck did this happen?'

I know exactly how it happened. Divine intervention. Who knows what affect this will have on me long term. I may even buy a gray shirt.

Today we took Grayson and Zoe and drove out to Red Rocks Canyon, where we found a little old west town, admission: $10 per car load. We paid our ten dollars to the cowpoke at the gate and were told "You're just in time for the show. At 2:30, we got a shoot out and a hangin'." This is a direct quote.

We went in to discover something that I thought only existed in double episodes of the Brady Bunch - a real, old western town. It included a petting zoo that held (among other things), buffalo, a gargantuan milk cow, goats, sheep, pigs, and...uh, a half dozen wallaby. So much for authenticity. Regardless, we had fun.

The evening was spent facing the laundry monster and, of course, staring at Zoe. I have decided that she is the color of a single-shot mocha, light foam, probably decaf. It's perfect with her black hair and deep, dark eyes. It also looks pretty kickin' with a splash of pink.

I'm gonna press PUBLISH before I go all misty eyed and start humming sappy Bob Carlisle wedding music....

i'm no dummy.

I know exactly why you're checking this blog. And it has nothing to do with my writing. So here....another picture of Zoe.

Now, we wait....

This morning, we loaded up Grayson and Zoe and headed over to the bank to do a wire transfer that would trip the trigger to begin work on our Interstate Compact paperwork. This is a series of paper manuevers between Nevada & Missouri that will allow us to bring Zoe home (or more technically, out of the state of Nevada).

We spent the afternoon in lockdown - after yesterday's emotional roller coaster, we were exhausted. The nap felt good.

After answering some email, we left the hotel to poke around town a little bit. We ended up at Panera for dinner (because we're in a strange city and oh so daring). It ended up to be the End of the Road Panera - the one they send managers to instead of firing them. They goofed up our order in more ways than was worth mentioning to them, and the house latte we ordered to take with us was horrible. I carried it back inside to ask for a refund, and the manager told me "oh yea - those are horrible. I've had one." I told her "I've had them all over the United States and they're not horrible elsewhere. You might want to check the recipe."

the day of all days....

Yesterday's visit by Sean and Danielle was an amazing treat. We shuffled between feeding the baby and feeding ourselves at an amazing buffet and killer mexican resturant. We valet parked the Caddy and tried not to giggle about it. Then we bolted back to the hospital to change a poopy. Nothing like balance in one's life.

Today was....ok, I don't have a word. If you combined exhausting, emotionally wrenching, antagonizing and exciting, you might get close to half of what the day was.

We went to the hospital to have Zoe released and take her back to our hotel. Halfway through the process, the socihttp://beta.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifal worker decided that because we didn't have paper xyz, Zoe would not be released to us and it would, in fact, probably be two months before we could take her into our custody. This was announced very matter of factly - I felt kicked in the stomach. I grabbed a cell phone and started to pace, dialing up everyone I knew who had any power in heaven or on earth.

Allow me to sing the praises of Amy, Malcom & Deanna at Adoption Consultants in Georgia. If you every think of adopting and don't use these peeps, you need your head examined by a professional. They have gone to bat for us at every turn.

At the 40 minute mark of the discussion about whether or not Zoe would be ours, I had to leave Kelsey at the hospital to go to the airport and pick up Grayson. Leaving her there was the hardest thing I could imagine. I said goodbye, hopped in the Caddilac and started working the phones calling in Air Support. Props to our dear friends to bombarded heaven, because in 45 minutes I got the first indicator that the winds were changing. Twenty minutes later, Kelsey had the papers signed and was waiting quietly with our little girl.

We are now at our hotel, awaiting the Interstate Compact paperwork going through. Tomorrow, we go wire a chunk of money to the actual adopting agency. And it's worth every penny.

Again, thanks for all who have and will join this battle with us - we love you all. Zoe says thank you and goodnight.

Trip Video

This is for those of you wondering what it's like to be waiting around in Las Vegas for the gubment to release our newly adopted daughter....

Back from the hospital...

We just returned from feeding and bathing Zoe at the hospital. She is up to 6lb, 2oz now and shoveling in a good amount of formula every four hours.

We returned to discover what appeared to be an episode of COPS being filmed in our parking lot. We saw one police cruiser and two motorcycles. The cruiser-cop was talking to two people near his car while Ponch and John discussed matters with another young fellow. Not quite sure what happened, but it's quiet now.

Thoughts from the Kreme....

Kelsey and I are holed up at Krispy Kreme between baby feedings. It's the first real bit of downtime we've had since we hit the ground.

We're feeling comfortable enough to ignore the navigation system in the Caddy to some extent. The directions from the hospital to the hotel are "Go east. Turn right at Pepe Taco." Reverse for the trip back.

Yesterday I passed a guy in a gargantuant jacked up Ford Excursion. He was talking on a bluetooth headset and drinking a can of Rock Star. I thought "That is the most Las Vegas thing I've ever seen."

People here are interesting. I commented yesterday that at one point it appeared we had walked into a professional wrestler's convention.

The nurses in the hospital are wonderful. They're a little puzzled as to why Zoe has not been discharged yet. "Monday" we tell them. They nod and say "Si".

If you're interested in class entertainment, this is the place. According to advertisements, in the next few days you could see .38 Special, the Beach Boys, Barry Manilow and (I kid you not) Quiet Riot. Of course, you can see Celine Dione every night of the week.

Once we get Zoe sprung from the hospital, we intend on going for a drive and letting the big Caddilac stretch her legs. We'll set the XM radio on classical (in this car, it seems sacreligious to play anything else) and point the nose east or north. If we go south or west we violate state laws about crossing the border with her before the Interstate Compact is finalized.

Monday, we're flying our key prayer warrior out here to help us. Grayson is ready to meet his little sister and we're ready to love him up. Jackson & ZB will hold down the fort with Grandma until we return.

Time to head back to the hospital soon. Can't wait to have her with us....

A roller coaster of a day...

Adoption Update
My day started with a phone call from a social worker - the kind an adoptive parent does not want to hear. "There's a little problem....".

Today was the day we were to take Zoe home from the hospital. A technicality with the state social system means she has to stay where she's at until Monday, although the birth mom did relinquish her rights, and we signed adoption papers. All that to say is that we have our little girl...but she can't leave the hospital until a social worker goes before a judge on Monday. The chances of anything going squirrelly are almost zilch, but we still sure would prefer her out of there. We spent most of the day with her - she is such a joy.

On the financial front
The last forty eight hours have been amazing, as person after person - many who we literally have never heard of - have stepped up to help make this happen. We now have all the money we need for the big check to be written on Monday to the agency. This is unbelievable. It's funny - I almost wore my $10,000 shirt the other day in faith. I think I need a new one.

Secondary needs are this - about $3,000 for legal fees, and who knows how much for a vehicle big enough to haul our crew. We are so grateful to everyone who has sacrificed in redeeming this little one from what might have been - we want to make sure that we're upfront about the expenses. Again - the immediate, staring-us-in-the-face need is paid for! The rest will come as God gives it.

Coming soon - the rest of the story
In the next few days, we will connect the dots between a few dreams and some very real encounters that have happened here - suffice it to say that little Zoe has been prophecied from some time back. From a barren field....life.

And dinner - oh man. We're out west. Double-Double, baby!

It's early and I'm wide awake.

In six hours, we will be meeting with a social worker to go over paperwork. Zoe's mother will have signed over her rights, and we will take our little bundle, place her in her new car seat, strap it in the back of the Hot Rod Caddy and to a serious tire-smoking exit of the hospital, knowing that she is ours, and His.

the Vegas update...

Greetings, friends. I greet you from Las Vegas, the city that should not have been, and some would argue should not be today. Nevertheless, here it is, in the middle of the desert, and here I am, within it's city limits.

In order to recap the last few days:

Tuesday - KCMO
4:00 PM Phone call: "We have a little girl, born yesterday...."

Wednesday
2 PM On a Southwest flight to Vegas.

Upon landing, I take leave of all senses and rent a Mustang convertable. It proves to be exhilaratingly fast and entirely too small for a car seat. Nevertheless, I drive it a while.

4 PM In a hospital.

We meet our little girl and declare her to be the best thing since boneless ice cream.

9 PM Racing 40 minutes across the desert to our hotel room.

Our room is, in a word, horrid. We sleep there anyway, to exhausted to fight with managment.

Thursday

5 AM We awake refreshed and immediately check out.

The Mustang's horsepower is useful on the morning blast back into Vegas. Kelsey chat's quietly on the cell phone in the passenger seat while I cross gobs of real estate in itsy-bitsy chunks of time. Lemme just say "the mustang, she runs...."

8 AM We feed our little girl 4 oz of formula.

She is tiny, but won't be for long at this rate.

Noon Realizing that a carseat won't fit, I take the Mustang back to Avis and plead ignorance.

Apparently, I am quite convincing, because they agree to swap it out with something bigger. Upon hearing our adoption story, they up the ante and - for no extra charge - hand me the keys to a Caddilac STS. It feels as fast as the Mustang, 'cept it's like driving your living room.

9 PM We leave the hospital to check into our new room.

It's an extended stay place that looks as if it could be cleaned out with a hose and cause no damage, but nevertheless is clean and much closer to town. Not sure if this last bit is good or bad.

Too tired for any more details, but thanks so much for following the adventure. Tomorrow, we meet the social worker, write a fat check* and get signatures for title, license, and all that fun. Then we wait out the Nevada and Missouri government's attempts at making nice with one another. Experts say it takes about a week. A week in Vegas with a newborn. Thank heavens there's so much to do here....

*Major thank yous to all of you who have helped us redeem this little life with your prayers and financial help. What has happened in the last forty eight hours is amazing.

Savannah Zoe....you call call her Zoe....

5lb, 13oz, 18.5 inches. More hair than dad ever had. Mother and baby doing fine. More wordy update later when I'm not cribbing wifi from the Kreme.

THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of those who have paypaled or called to tell me a check is on the way. You are making this happen and redeeming a LIFE!

live from MCI

After a ride to the airport from Linda Hackett, Kelsey and I are in the B line of a Southwest flight to Vegas, where we will pick up our little girl.

Watch this space for photos, sportsfans. Let's get this party started....

Now this is something...

The Krispy Kreme stores is Las Vegas have free WiFi.

I am so already there....

Oh Baby!!!!

It is a monumental day.


We found out today that our baby girl is waiting for us in Las Vegas! She's 5lb, 14 oz, 18 inches long and is of mixed race. Nurses tell us she looks very hispanic - which is exactly what Kelsey's dream was long ago. We leave tomorrow to get her.



This is a shameless appeal - seriously, I have no shame in this - we need funds fast. Our adoption fund is $7,000-$10000 short and we will need the money on Monday at the latest. The first friend we called to tell about it gave us his frequent flyer tickets that 'just arrived in the mail', so we know God's timing is perfect.


Can you help? The donate button is on the right, or you can email me at rbohlender (at) gmail.com if you'd prefer to do it another way, but we need it and we need it fast.



Viva Las Vegas!

Just me and the oak trees...

It's unseasonably warm this morning. About a block into my morning walk, I was tugging off my jacket. It's so strange - October 3rd, leaves beginning to pile in the gutters, and at 5am it's 76 degrees and heading towards 90.

As I figure it, so long as I can keep this walk up, I can save roughly $400 a month in counselling fees. It's that theraputic for me. I say this knowing that after some time in the prayer room, my day will explode into a series of meetings, punctuated by assorted phone calls and the occassional 'uh-oh' moment demanding to be dealt with right now, generally sends my head into "what if..." mode.

• What if it becomes apparent to everyone that even though I'd led our marketing team for over a year, I don't understand a fourth of the technical end of design.
• What if all those scriptures about God providing were a ruse, and we reach the end of the budget before the end of the month?
• What if one of those moms chooses our family and I'm buying plane tickets this afternoon?
• What if.....insert your dilema here.
  

There's a phrase in the Psalms that serves as the inspiration for my morning walk. Selah. A space for pause. A time to think about it. Quit vocalizing. Begin internalizing. Ignore the margins. Find the center. Selah.

As I bobble along the sidewalk, coffee in hand and thoughts in head, I do a mental control-alt-delete. It's just me. And Him. And these gorgeous oak trees. Best of all, the trees aren't talking. Neither am I. I'm listening. Selah.

This morning's selah, accompanied by the soundtrack of oak leaves and the early morning traffic, was sponsored by God Almighty. I must remember to listen again tomorrow.

good to be home ...

It was a high speed day that started in East Tennessee...

After speaking in the morning service at Hosanna Fellowship, about half the church, ZHOP interns and our Omega Team grabbed some lunch at Atlanta Bread. From there, we returned to the church where Amazing Bill had already packed up the cd and book table, drove on to our host home to grab our luggage, and started the 250 mile dash to Nashville to catch a plane.

We were cruising along smashingly when traffic came to a screeching halt. A dead stop. Zippo. No progress. I was just about to give up all hope of catching our plane when the traffic opened up and we were on our way again.

At the ticket counter, it became apparent that I had checked everyone in....uh, 'cept for Deborah. We ended up in SouthWest Group B and she was relegated to C. Fortunately, her hubby held her a seat.

Props to our man Chuck who met us at the airport....sure is good to be home.

This weekend was fantastic - people had incredibly open hearts and we had a ton of fun teaching and doing Q&A. We're grateful to Tri-HOP and Hosanna for hosting! Thanks, guys!