I think I'm gonna cross-post my book reviews here.

It's been over a year since I posted anything on my blog.
Y'all have missed a lot.
For the past couple of weeks, I've been reading and reviewing books by the authors at the Mad Genius Club (www.madgeniusclub.com) on Amazon. It's about the only discipline I've been able to maintain.
Then, I read a very nice book by one of the MGC authors, and I couldn't review it on Amazon, because the book isn't offered on Amazon.
So I', gonna review it here.
Before I do that, though, I'm gonna post some of my other reviews here. No particular reason not to.
First one:

			Plant Life Price: $1.99
Sex is like oxygen..., July 6, 2014 ...It's only important when you aren't getting any. There is a lot more to this story other than the PG-13 (or milder) sex, just as there is more to air than oxygen. This story COULD be re-written as a 1950s John Campbell prudish story, and it would still be a good one; BUT Cedar Sanderson treats us with respect, and involves Eros without ever descending into pornography. Good for her! (It's really well written, too!)

Tools: the gift that keeps on giving

"When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains,
And go to your God like a soldier."

My Wounded Warrior, Jordan, just left with his vehicle full of tools, some of which came to him from me, others through me, but were delayed gifts from his Grandfather Ralph. He has a new house, and he's going to be doing some fixing up, got an entire unfinished basement to play with.

We were a curious pair. Jordan was wearing his fatigues, and walking with the aid of a crutch. I was limping along without one. We managed to load a table saw in the back of his vehicle. And then we dragged Mickey along. So there were the three Patterson Boys, hanging out and talking.

And I can't talk about this any more right now.

Unexplored country?

Seems like when you are young, you have plenty of advice on how to live your life. So much advice, that you spend most of your time trying not to follow it.
And the advice, most of it, comes from people who know what they are talking about. They have already lived through being young.

I was young, but now I am old.

And I think I find myself in unexplored country. I think I find myself with rare circumstances, which no one else has experienced.

So I have no one to turn to and say "Am I doing this the right way?"

I live in an unexplored country, bordered by pain, sleep, and drugs. How do I find my way here?

TANSTAAFL

Kenneth has been doing so well in school. His last report card was straight A. His behavior has been exemplary as well.
When I found out about the website sumdog, I thought I had found an end to the homework hassle. All I would have to do is turn the kids loose on an educational learning site, and my work was done. That's pretty attractive to an old guy with not a lot of energy.
And there were other educational sites besides sumdog, like coolmath. Actually, coolmath bothered me a little, because it appeared to be more game than learning. So, when Alicia continued to struggle, I told her she must not go anywhere but sumdog; I let Kenneth run free.
And on weekend, the laptops were just another entertainment tool. They could go to the Disney site, or pretty much wherever they found joy. No downloads, no for-pay, but still they were able to navigate and have fun.
And it gave me a couple of teachable moments.
TANSTAAFL. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch. Kenneth wanted this benefit that was free to members. And I was able to explain to him that if you had to be a member, and you had to pay to be a member, then the benefit wasn't free; and that lead to a lot of other topics about the way things work. Air is free, if only because nobody has figured out yet how to restrict it.
And then today, he told his teacher her assignment was boring.
Well, screeching halt time.
I had let him play on the laptop all weekend, with time off to run a 5K charity race with Vanessa and church. Other than that, he was on the laptop all weekend long, without wanting to take time off for food. He was still on the laptop at 8:29 on Sunday night, and he was fully aware that he needed to be in bed by 8:30.
There were no flashing lights and engaging sound effects in his classroom today. Therefore, by comparison, it was boring.
Doing something that feels good, to the exclusion of all other activities, even if doing that brings harm: yeah, that's a start of addiction.
So, the conversation with Kenneth started with his description of what happened.
And then, what is the difference between discipline and punishment, and an assurance to him that he was NOT going to be punished, and in particular that he was not going to be spanked.
And then we proceeded.
And he doesn't like the results, which are that he doesn't get to use the computer, but it's possible that he may be able to understand the rest later. I have to keep him from having his intoxication becoming an addiction.

What have they missed?

Today is October 24, 2013. My last blog post was on June 17, 2013.

I entitled this blog entry, what have THEY missed, because I haven't missed a thing. I've been through every single moment of these past nearly five months, and endured it. Might have forgotten some of it, though. 
But this blog isn't really for me. It's for my grandson Heath. It's for Kenneth and Alicia. And perhaps it will also be valuable to my adult contemporaries as well.
But I didn't write it down; and, if you don't write it down, it didn't happen.
So, I can say: since my last post, I thought we had found the perfect pain med, a patch that managed my pain very well, and didn't goof my head. And then in September I developed an allergy to it, and had to stop it, and got to experience withdrawal again.
But what I missed, by not making a daily record of my experiences.
And I can also say that I was asked, once again, to serve on a Tres Dias weekend, made the last team meeting, packed all my clothes in a backpack, and rode up to the mountain on Thursday. And got sent home on Friday. That was only two weeks ago. But if I had been writing daily, there would have been a great message about "What am I doing here?" that might have been a benefit to some.
See, right now, as I think about the past five months, I can see all the possible opportunities to reach out and share my life; and I just realized this is JUST LIKE IT WAS FOR ME IN SCHOOL! Always trying to play catch-up; it's SO aversive, and so I dropped classes, changed career focus, and dropped out of degree programs.
Months ago, Pastor John told me to write every day. He said it at the same level of emphasis as he told me I had to be in church each week unless I was in the hospital.
Last night I made it to choir practice, because Vanessa was meeting Anne and Tina at the church to drive to Mississippi. The night before, I think, I had written an email to Pastor Shelia talking about me NEED to sing. 
What can I do?
Well, physical stuff is right out.
Pretty much any catch-up is right out.
But I ought to be able to write every day.
And I'm listening to praise & worship while I'm doing it, and will be doing so while I'm on the computer, as long as I can make that work.
Just do the next right thing.
This might not be a coherent statement to the uninitiated reader. It does, however, emerge out of this tarpit I seem to be in. Now, if I could just get tossed into the briar patch...

Listening to what you already know

I was listening to a teaching on Joshua this morning, called 'Rotate Your Gifting.' And I was thinking, groan. I already KNOW all this stuff. Why do I have to listen through this? Why not just skip this one, and go on to the next teaching?
And I found reasons.
Of course, I first had to find a reason before I even began to listen to the teaching, even before I realized I already knew what the teaching was about. That's a pretty simple reason. It's so simple, it's an embarrassment to say. I did it for the same reason I breathe: because that's what you do to keep alive. Not a whole lot of need to explain that one, is there? Except to say this: if I were to choose to hold my breath, at some point I'd either give up, or pass out, and if I passed out, my body would start breathing again whether I wanted to or not. Can't really say the same thing for my spiritual life; I suppose that if I refused to do the things I need to do to stay alive spiritually, I would just wither away. SO FAR THOUGH!!!!! .every.single. time. I've done that, I give this great big gasp and start living again. So I guess there is some sort of survival mechanism at work. And it makes me wonder what I must look like to those who can see with spiritual eyes: "Look, the moron is holding his breath again. When is he going to stop doing that? Idiot."
So, anyway, that's reason number one, and it's good enough to get me started. Reason number two: It's a good example. How am I going to tell my offspring to listen to things they already know, to repeat them over and over, if I don't do the same thing? Maybe there ARE some people or animals somewhere who learn something after the first time. I don't think I ever met one. This morning, I trained my obstinate cat to rear up, put a front paw on my chair, and take a yummy treat from my fingers. But that was based on first training her to come when she heard the package rattle. And it took the LONGEST time to get her to take the treat from my fingers. And so forth. The point is, repetition matters, and unless I'M willing to do it, hard to require it of others.
Reason #1, reason # 2, and now for reason #3: I don't know as much as I think I know. Sure, the first part was basic; repeated lessons I'd learned not only in church but in my professional training and in years of recovery from alcoholism. But then: I learned something about Joshua I never knew: while Moses was up on the mountain, Joshua was waiting for him in a cave. The whole time. Not so the elders; just Joshua. And that's pretty huge. And because of time constraints, I'm not going to talk any more about that point.
But the FINAL (I think it's the final) reason for listening to what I already know is: rabbit trails. There are some AMAZING ways that new thoughts, new plans develop. I think it's because once you start stirring up, you just get momentum going, and it's entirely lovely. I have about, I don't know, four or five new things that are pretty much unrelated to Joshua cooking right now. 
I think I love it when I'm wrong.

Lessons from a donkey

In Numbers, there's the story of Balaam, a sorceror-type, and his donkey. I won't go into the rest of it, but Balaam sets out on a journey the LORD doesn't want him to, and an angel stands in front of him with a sword to kill him. Balaam doesn't see thee angel, but the donkey does, and twice turns aside, then lies down in the road. Balaam beats the donkey fiercely, and then God opens the donkey's mouth.
"Why are you beating me ? Haven't I always been a good donkey? Have I ever acted like this before?" 
And then Balaam sees the angel, and the angel explains everything to him, and he goes about his business.

Have I ever acted like this before?

Pretty important question.
How HAVE you acted before? Because that's pretty much going to determine the response you get today, for good or for bad.

I wonder what my father said that day that I missed hearing him speak. I didn't hear him speak because it was in a Sunday School class of his age group, the 60+, and I was low 30s. He had brought me to hear him speak, and I knew that; but as I looked around, I saw I was the only 30s guy there, and I commented on that. He gave me a funny look, and asked me if I wanted to go to a class my age; and then he took me there.
So I don't know what he said that day. 
But I wonder: even if I had heard him speak that day: Could I have heard it? I just don't think i could have gotten the message. See, my father was a mean old man. And yes, in his old age, he was working on finding peace with God, and by the time he died twenty years later, I could talk to him about spiritual things, because he was dying and we all knew it. And the worst part of the meanness just wasn't showing up at that point. But on that day, now thirty years ago, there was no way I was going to be able to hear a spiritual message from a mean old man. So I played the youth card, and got out of there. I know it disappointed him, but I just didn't care. I wasn't gonna listen to spiritual words coming from a man who had made fun of my pants that morning, who had been a tyrant to me his entire life.
Now, I can play the donkey scene over in my head; sometimes I'm the donkey, sometimes he is; depends on how I want to cast the story. It works both ways.
I'm NOT, definitely NOT, arguing against a late-in-life conversion. All I'm saying is, if you wanna be treated like a good donkey, you better have been a good donkey all your life. And there's more to that, but all I'm gonna write now.