This blog will no longer be updated at this address. You can read future updates of the Deep Thoughts (From Off The Deep End) blog here.
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October 30, 2010
October 29, 2010
Air! Air for everyone!!!
Greetings from the deep end!
We have been back in a house for two weeks and a sleep now. It's great. It's beginning to feel more like home and less like a spankin' awesome hotel. I've been cooking again since we finally got the gas hooked up last Friday. I don't know why we ever invented the electric stove. They SUCK!!! Gas is the beez kneez! It cooks hot and fast. When you turn the knob there is instant and even heat. I love it. I love the paved driveway (something we never had in Sheridan). I love the hot running water. I love the carpet space where I can sit on the floor and stretch and tackle Xander and play and have fun. I love that the kids each have their own room, far far away from mine. I love that I have my bed back.
What I think I love the most though, is the air. We had been in the house for a couple of days when I found myself sitting in the living room. For no good reason, I took a deep breath. It tasted good so I took another. It tasted good too. I took a few more. Each tasted as good as the last. Then I started taking normal sized breaths again as I did not want to pass out. What I realized from this little psychotic episode is that air tastes good. Correction, clean, not-pre-breathed or shared air, tastes good. I realized that while we were living in the RV we had been sharing the same breath for 4 months. I would take the breath then pass it to Xander who would pass it to Aryll who would pass it to Pam who would then, in turn, pass it back to me. After the same breath has been breathed a few million times it tends to lose it's flavor, it's crispness, it's ability to give life.
I am now convinced that we never actually slept in the RV. Instead, we just passed the breath around until it lost all O2 and we passed out. I don't share this to make anyone feel bad that they spent the summer breathing nice clean, crisp, non circulated air while the Brown family shared one single worn out puff of exhausted air for 4 months. I share this so that the average person, the person who hasn't spent 4 months living in an RV can appreciate air for the clean, crisp, life giving substance that it is. I am simply sharing perspective. Take a deep breath, enjoy it, then take one for me. Tastes good doesn't it?
We have been back in a house for two weeks and a sleep now. It's great. It's beginning to feel more like home and less like a spankin' awesome hotel. I've been cooking again since we finally got the gas hooked up last Friday. I don't know why we ever invented the electric stove. They SUCK!!! Gas is the beez kneez! It cooks hot and fast. When you turn the knob there is instant and even heat. I love it. I love the paved driveway (something we never had in Sheridan). I love the hot running water. I love the carpet space where I can sit on the floor and stretch and tackle Xander and play and have fun. I love that the kids each have their own room, far far away from mine. I love that I have my bed back.
What I think I love the most though, is the air. We had been in the house for a couple of days when I found myself sitting in the living room. For no good reason, I took a deep breath. It tasted good so I took another. It tasted good too. I took a few more. Each tasted as good as the last. Then I started taking normal sized breaths again as I did not want to pass out. What I realized from this little psychotic episode is that air tastes good. Correction, clean, not-pre-breathed or shared air, tastes good. I realized that while we were living in the RV we had been sharing the same breath for 4 months. I would take the breath then pass it to Xander who would pass it to Aryll who would pass it to Pam who would then, in turn, pass it back to me. After the same breath has been breathed a few million times it tends to lose it's flavor, it's crispness, it's ability to give life.
I am now convinced that we never actually slept in the RV. Instead, we just passed the breath around until it lost all O2 and we passed out. I don't share this to make anyone feel bad that they spent the summer breathing nice clean, crisp, non circulated air while the Brown family shared one single worn out puff of exhausted air for 4 months. I share this so that the average person, the person who hasn't spent 4 months living in an RV can appreciate air for the clean, crisp, life giving substance that it is. I am simply sharing perspective. Take a deep breath, enjoy it, then take one for me. Tastes good doesn't it?
October 21, 2010
Eetsa Mario!
Greetings from the deep end!
Ya, we bought a house with a giant pipe in the front yard. It looks a little dopey but we've got that covered. We bought a little plastic Mario (from Super Mario Bros.) and put him in the front yard next to the pipe. All questions about why we have a giant pipe in our front yard will be answered instantly through a simple visual as people drive by. "Why do you have a giant pipe in your front yard?" people will ask in their minds. "Wouldn't you have one too if it meant a direct line to Mario World?" will be our immediate visual response. Yep, this house is pretty cool.
On top of that, have you, dear reader, ever found something that wasn't made for you that seemed like it was made EXACTLY for you? That is this house for me, Pam and the kids. On the upper level it has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, laundry room, kitchen, dining room and living room. The upstairs alone is almost 200 square feet larger than our last home was in total. Then there is the unfinished basement. The total measurement of the new house not counting the garage (that we didn't have before) is somewhere around 2800 sq feet. Wow. This house is perfect for us, it was specially ordered by someone who ordered everything exactly as we would have if we had ordered it ourselves. Then, after ground was broken and the builders were past the point of no return, the contract fell through. Pam and I had our eyes on this house before the walls were up. When we moved to Rapid City it was a frame and siding. We watched it build as we prayed daily for our house in Sheridan to sell. Some 6 weeks after moving to Rapid the house went under contract again. We were sad but believed that God would bring us a better house, though we couldn't imagine a nicer one for us. The day before our Sheridan house went under contract the contract on this house fell through. One week later we had a contract on it.
The last month in the RV was difficult, but totally worth it. In retrospect. If the me from now talked to the me then like I am writing here, past me would probably hurt the now me pretty badly. If you can understand that sentence, you are as big a nerd as I. Congratulations! Welcome to the club.
So, here I sit in my perfect living room next to my perfect kitchen, in my perfect house with my perfect dog sleeping on her mat next to the TV writing a blog in my perfect comfy living room chair, inviting you to drive by and see what God can do. Just look for the giant green pipe with the little plastic Mario out front :)
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Ya, we bought a house with a giant pipe in the front yard. It looks a little dopey but we've got that covered. We bought a little plastic Mario (from Super Mario Bros.) and put him in the front yard next to the pipe. All questions about why we have a giant pipe in our front yard will be answered instantly through a simple visual as people drive by. "Why do you have a giant pipe in your front yard?" people will ask in their minds. "Wouldn't you have one too if it meant a direct line to Mario World?" will be our immediate visual response. Yep, this house is pretty cool.
On top of that, have you, dear reader, ever found something that wasn't made for you that seemed like it was made EXACTLY for you? That is this house for me, Pam and the kids. On the upper level it has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, laundry room, kitchen, dining room and living room. The upstairs alone is almost 200 square feet larger than our last home was in total. Then there is the unfinished basement. The total measurement of the new house not counting the garage (that we didn't have before) is somewhere around 2800 sq feet. Wow. This house is perfect for us, it was specially ordered by someone who ordered everything exactly as we would have if we had ordered it ourselves. Then, after ground was broken and the builders were past the point of no return, the contract fell through. Pam and I had our eyes on this house before the walls were up. When we moved to Rapid City it was a frame and siding. We watched it build as we prayed daily for our house in Sheridan to sell. Some 6 weeks after moving to Rapid the house went under contract again. We were sad but believed that God would bring us a better house, though we couldn't imagine a nicer one for us. The day before our Sheridan house went under contract the contract on this house fell through. One week later we had a contract on it.
The last month in the RV was difficult, but totally worth it. In retrospect. If the me from now talked to the me then like I am writing here, past me would probably hurt the now me pretty badly. If you can understand that sentence, you are as big a nerd as I. Congratulations! Welcome to the club.
So, here I sit in my perfect living room next to my perfect kitchen, in my perfect house with my perfect dog sleeping on her mat next to the TV writing a blog in my perfect comfy living room chair, inviting you to drive by and see what God can do. Just look for the giant green pipe with the little plastic Mario out front :)
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October 12, 2010
Will Write Soon
Greetings from the deep end!
So, as far as "the deep end" goes, I'm in it up to here |................................. :/ For those of you that don't know emoticon language (is that even a word? Yes, language is a word), we were not able to move into our house today after all. I have been planning to write a long series or just one really long blog about the whole process but haven't had a conclusion and want to write it from a finished mindset to keep any negative overtones out of the blog. So, since it isn't over yet, I haven't written yet. I have a plan, just gotta do it. I also have a ton of things going on all at once right now and am having trouble sorting it out and getting it organized. So then, dear friends, have no fear, I will write soon. Once things calm down a bit.
So, as far as "the deep end" goes, I'm in it up to here |................................. :/ For those of you that don't know emoticon language (is that even a word? Yes, language is a word), we were not able to move into our house today after all. I have been planning to write a long series or just one really long blog about the whole process but haven't had a conclusion and want to write it from a finished mindset to keep any negative overtones out of the blog. So, since it isn't over yet, I haven't written yet. I have a plan, just gotta do it. I also have a ton of things going on all at once right now and am having trouble sorting it out and getting it organized. So then, dear friends, have no fear, I will write soon. Once things calm down a bit.
September 17, 2010
The Previously Untitled Works of Derick Brown - Based on the Writings and Random Thoughts of Derick Brown
Greetings from the deep end!
I think that when writing, be it blogs or essays, songs or recipes, the title is the most difficult thing to come up with. I can write words all day long. I can write on different topics and in different styles, perhaps not well, but I can do it and I do enjoy it. Naming things, however, is the greatest pain EVER! Anyone who has ever tried to name their children knows exactly what I am talking about. You want a name that flows and sounds natural but you also want it to be unique and stick out in the minds of the people thinking of or using the name. Pam and I went with Xander and Aryll. We picked the names in the second year of our marriage, 2 years before Xander was born and 3.5 years before Aryll was. Why? Because that is how long it takes to come up with a really good name for a kid. The names Pam and I chose ROCK!
See, some people wait until the last minute to name their child. They often think that, "When the baby is born, when we meet him/her, we will know what the perfect name for our child is." People who choose to name children in this fashion really can only have two outcomes. The most common outcome is, they meet the kid and are so engrossed in the new glow of parenthood that their mind shuts off and they name the poor kid whatever random name happens to pop into their head (George, Stan, Hoover, Doctor Montgomery to the ER please...). This is too bad for the poor kid that will share his/her name with forty other kids in their graduating class and have teachers, friends and bosses confuse them for the rest of their lives. Their boss will be like, "Secretary! Get Bob Smith up here right away!" The poor secretary has no idea which "Bob Smith" her boss really wants. So she will close her eyes, point at the list and call whichever of the forty "Bob Smith's" her finger lands on. Next thing you know, the wrong "Bob Smith" gets fired from NASA and the incompetent "Bob Smith" is still trying to send rockets into space and will eventually be responsible for the destruction of half of the moon because the "Bob Smith" that got fired was the one who could do basic addition.
The other, less common outcome is from parents who, when faced with the new child still try for the uncommon name but since their mind isn't working as a part of the new parent vertigo come up with totally random things that a sane person wouldn't name their dog (Weasel, Apple, Passion Fruit, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Extract...). This poor child probably has a celebrity for a parent. I think we can feel for this kid with no further explanation.
All of that brings me back to the general process for naming things. Be it children, blogs, songs or recipes, a name, or title if you will needs to fully represent the subject it is being chosen for. Take the name of the radio show in the movie "O Brother Where Art Thou?", it was called, "Pass the Biscuits, Pappy O'Daniel Flour Hour". This is a great name as it sticks out in the mind of the reader and defines what the (listener, in this case) will be in for. The title tells us that we will obviously be spending the next half hour of radio time hearing about how to make biscuits with an old man named "Pappy" in a 1960's, hippy, love everybody manner.
No real point in the blog today. Mostly just spewing words. Hope you got a good laugh out of it. Assuming that you are actually reading this and didn't quit reading in the first paragraph. Have a good one!
I think that when writing, be it blogs or essays, songs or recipes, the title is the most difficult thing to come up with. I can write words all day long. I can write on different topics and in different styles, perhaps not well, but I can do it and I do enjoy it. Naming things, however, is the greatest pain EVER! Anyone who has ever tried to name their children knows exactly what I am talking about. You want a name that flows and sounds natural but you also want it to be unique and stick out in the minds of the people thinking of or using the name. Pam and I went with Xander and Aryll. We picked the names in the second year of our marriage, 2 years before Xander was born and 3.5 years before Aryll was. Why? Because that is how long it takes to come up with a really good name for a kid. The names Pam and I chose ROCK!
See, some people wait until the last minute to name their child. They often think that, "When the baby is born, when we meet him/her, we will know what the perfect name for our child is." People who choose to name children in this fashion really can only have two outcomes. The most common outcome is, they meet the kid and are so engrossed in the new glow of parenthood that their mind shuts off and they name the poor kid whatever random name happens to pop into their head (George, Stan, Hoover, Doctor Montgomery to the ER please...). This is too bad for the poor kid that will share his/her name with forty other kids in their graduating class and have teachers, friends and bosses confuse them for the rest of their lives. Their boss will be like, "Secretary! Get Bob Smith up here right away!" The poor secretary has no idea which "Bob Smith" her boss really wants. So she will close her eyes, point at the list and call whichever of the forty "Bob Smith's" her finger lands on. Next thing you know, the wrong "Bob Smith" gets fired from NASA and the incompetent "Bob Smith" is still trying to send rockets into space and will eventually be responsible for the destruction of half of the moon because the "Bob Smith" that got fired was the one who could do basic addition.
The other, less common outcome is from parents who, when faced with the new child still try for the uncommon name but since their mind isn't working as a part of the new parent vertigo come up with totally random things that a sane person wouldn't name their dog (Weasel, Apple, Passion Fruit, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Extract...). This poor child probably has a celebrity for a parent. I think we can feel for this kid with no further explanation.
All of that brings me back to the general process for naming things. Be it children, blogs, songs or recipes, a name, or title if you will needs to fully represent the subject it is being chosen for. Take the name of the radio show in the movie "O Brother Where Art Thou?", it was called, "Pass the Biscuits, Pappy O'Daniel Flour Hour". This is a great name as it sticks out in the mind of the reader and defines what the (listener, in this case) will be in for. The title tells us that we will obviously be spending the next half hour of radio time hearing about how to make biscuits with an old man named "Pappy" in a 1960's, hippy, love everybody manner.
No real point in the blog today. Mostly just spewing words. Hope you got a good laugh out of it. Assuming that you are actually reading this and didn't quit reading in the first paragraph. Have a good one!
August 27, 2010
Better Than A Fist To The Face
Greetings from the deep end!
So, for about two years now, this day has been approaching. It has been sneaking up very smoothly but very obviously. I honestly don't know how in the world I didn't see it coming. Other than the fact that I am unobservant to a fault when it comes to things of a not-me nature. What can I say? I'm human.
Today, for me, is one of those days where reality and the universe join forces and contrary to popular belief and opinion, prove that I am in fact an adult. This comes as a shock to me. I know it shouldn't, but it does. Especially since it happens so often now a days. I am one of the popular voters who says I am in fact not an adult but rather one who belongs in a lower grade in a middle school somewhere. 12 to 13 years old. 15 tops, and only on a really, really good day. As previously mentioned, however, reality and the stupid universe are here once again to destroy whatever semblance of normalcy in adolescence I once believed I possessed. Today my son, my little baby boy, my little guy, my little dude, turns two.
Parents of children younger than two just cringed at the thought of their little toddler or toddlet becoming a big boy or girl. Parents of older children, or better yet, grandparents all just laughed at me. Thanks for that by the way. You think you are so smart just because you happened to have your kids, keep them alive for more than X amount of years and they happened to have grandkids for you. Doesn't mean you can laugh that the poor blind schmucks like me who would rather sit in our bedroom with our eyes shut watching videos of the kid's first day than accept that they are going to grow up and become big boys and girls. Or even worse... GULP... teenagers.
My parents at this point are probably a little sad that the boy (Xander) is growing up but what they are really thinking is, "That's right boy! This is what you get for getting older, becoming a big boy and then becoming a teenager!" Well, all of you parents that just agreed with what my parents are probably thinking, remember this, every time I have this hit of reality and adulthood, every moment my boy gets older and thereby makes me feel older, you are older as well, by association with me.
With that, I thank you Reality and Universe, for allowing me to not have to go down alone, for allowing others to suffer with me. Because at the end of the day we are all a day older and hopefully a little more grown up, whether we are two, twenty seven or fifty-two.
Oh yea! Congratulations to Me and Pam for keeping a child alive for TWO YEARS!!!
So, for about two years now, this day has been approaching. It has been sneaking up very smoothly but very obviously. I honestly don't know how in the world I didn't see it coming. Other than the fact that I am unobservant to a fault when it comes to things of a not-me nature. What can I say? I'm human.
Today, for me, is one of those days where reality and the universe join forces and contrary to popular belief and opinion, prove that I am in fact an adult. This comes as a shock to me. I know it shouldn't, but it does. Especially since it happens so often now a days. I am one of the popular voters who says I am in fact not an adult but rather one who belongs in a lower grade in a middle school somewhere. 12 to 13 years old. 15 tops, and only on a really, really good day. As previously mentioned, however, reality and the stupid universe are here once again to destroy whatever semblance of normalcy in adolescence I once believed I possessed. Today my son, my little baby boy, my little guy, my little dude, turns two.
Parents of children younger than two just cringed at the thought of their little toddler or toddlet becoming a big boy or girl. Parents of older children, or better yet, grandparents all just laughed at me. Thanks for that by the way. You think you are so smart just because you happened to have your kids, keep them alive for more than X amount of years and they happened to have grandkids for you. Doesn't mean you can laugh that the poor blind schmucks like me who would rather sit in our bedroom with our eyes shut watching videos of the kid's first day than accept that they are going to grow up and become big boys and girls. Or even worse... GULP... teenagers.
My parents at this point are probably a little sad that the boy (Xander) is growing up but what they are really thinking is, "That's right boy! This is what you get for getting older, becoming a big boy and then becoming a teenager!" Well, all of you parents that just agreed with what my parents are probably thinking, remember this, every time I have this hit of reality and adulthood, every moment my boy gets older and thereby makes me feel older, you are older as well, by association with me.
With that, I thank you Reality and Universe, for allowing me to not have to go down alone, for allowing others to suffer with me. Because at the end of the day we are all a day older and hopefully a little more grown up, whether we are two, twenty seven or fifty-two.
Oh yea! Congratulations to Me and Pam for keeping a child alive for TWO YEARS!!!
August 25, 2010
Up To My Elbows
Greetings from the deep end!
Have you ever been up to your elbows in anything? I have been, and currently am, at this very moment. Here I sit in my RV/Home in the living room/bedroom/kitchen/play room/TV room/sitting room/dining room/dressing room/office/driving area with toys, blankets and baby clothes, up to my elbows. Does it sound like I have a rant waiting just under the surface of my skin? Does this installment of “The Deep End” feel like it may be about to explode into an angry observation on the negative situation that I have found myself in? Well, it may feel that way but that is not how I feel. Not today anyway. Today I am content. Usually on days where I feel content I have nothing to write about. No funny story to tell about falling into a pond and finding a fish in my pocket later. No rant about how the boy got me up entirely too early. I’m not going to share about cooking, as I haven’t cooked for real since before we moved to Rapid City. Nope, today I have nothing to write about. So then, I guess I will write about all of the injustices I have suffered today.
So, I woke up this morning at 8:00am when the kids woke up. Of course the little punks just cuddled and played until 9:00am. Don’t they know that today is Tuesday and mommy and daddy rely on their little alarm clocks to get them up sooner?
Then I get to work on time and ready for my day only to find that coffee has already been made. Don’t they know that having coffee first thing when I get to work is the worst way to start the day? I get all awake and produce a high quality of work. This coffee first thing in the morning thing must stop.
I got home for lunch at 12:02 after a very productive morning at work (stupid coffee) only to find that the kids were happy, lunch was ready and the plan was for me to lay down with Xander after lunch to put him so sleep. Great, I got to eat lunch with my family then I was forced to take a 20 minute nap so that the BOY could get his rest. Wonderful.
I woke from my nap, put my shoes back on and went to the weekly prayer and staff meeting. I had a wonderful time. Dang it. Staff meeting is supposed to suck! How am I supposed to be relevant if work doesn’t suck? I am being robbed of the basic American right to loathe going to work.
So, then, I return home at my leisure and spend a couple hours playing with Aryll and working on my computer playing with video while Pam and Xander take care of the laundry and get some more movies out of storage. Pam brought back “Happy Gilmore”. Life is just so frustratingly good right now that it is bad. We have come full circle.
Then, just a moment ago Xander interrupted me. UGH HE IS SO ANNOYING!!! He came over with a toy and asked me to play with him. He was kind and cute and didn’t scream or cry. So of course I was forced to spend time with the interrupting monkey and play crocodile with him. Of course he would be respectful of Daddy’s writing time and stop playing without a fight a few minutes later. So frustrating.
It is with that thought, dear reader, that I will leave you with. Even when we are “up to our elbows”, with the right perspective, we can still find something to grump about. Now, where is that crocodile puppet, Xander is just screaming for a good tickle.
July 27, 2010
Extraordinary People
Greetings from the deep end!
There are a few times in a person’s life when, for a brief time, they are paired up with truly extraordinary people. For the past four months I have had that privilege with Shawn Michael Shoup. I have written in past blogs about most of the process of my family and I coming to Rapid City and Destiny foursquare. What I have not written about, until today, is the caring heart and gracious attitude of the man whose position I will be carrying on. I am truly humbled to have spent time with such an extraordinary man. Perhaps a little back story would help the reader understand why I feel this amount of praise is necessary.
There are a few times in a person’s life when, for a brief time, they are paired up with truly extraordinary people. For the past four months I have had that privilege with Shawn Michael Shoup. I have written in past blogs about most of the process of my family and I coming to Rapid City and Destiny foursquare. What I have not written about, until today, is the caring heart and gracious attitude of the man whose position I will be carrying on. I am truly humbled to have spent time with such an extraordinary man. Perhaps a little back story would help the reader understand why I feel this amount of praise is necessary.
At the end of April of this year, I found on the Foursquare website a job opening here in Rapid. I wasn’t sure if Rapid was a place we wanted to go to and I didn’t even tell Pam that I had emailed. It was simply a request for more information. Pastor Brent wrote back that he would like to pursue a relationship with me and Pam to see if God had a plan for all of us. Things progressed. One day I opened Facebook to see that Shawn had invited me to be a friend. Knowing that Shawn was the current Youth Minister I didn’t know what to expect. I accepted the friend request and one way or another Shawn and I began a Facebook email dialogue. Shawn was open and honest in answering my questions about the staff at Destiny, about the youth program here and about the town in general. He never hesitated to give me advice and opportunity to find support and to grow as a youth minister. This was all before Pam and I had our first meeting with Pastors Brent and Tani Parker.
It was obvious to me that Shawn cared very much for his youth kids and wanted to make sure that they were well taken care of in his absence. It was also quite evident that Shawn had a heart for encouraging, networking with and training youth pastors. Over the next weeks, Pam and I had the chance to talk at length with the Parkers and were invited to come to Rapid to visit the church, meet some of the people and get a feel for the Rapid/Destiny situation.
I met Shawn in person first thing the morning after we arrived. I came to the church early for music practice as I was to play the acoustic guitar that morning. Shawn was the first person I saw. We were dressed in like fashion. Both in black button up shirts, jeans and fashionable footwear. We are both very stylish men. That is to say, we both have wives that make us look good. He introduced himself and helped me get set up for music. Meeting with him that day was not an uncomfortable experience. He was not aggressive towards me. He was not hostile as some men would be when faced with the person who could possibly be the one to carry on the work that he had spent over nine years building. Shawn was humble and friendly. That in itself is worth all of the praise I could give to a man, however, my story is not yet complete. In fact, Shawn and I had only begun our time together.
That Tuesday, Pam and I had not yet been hired but we were feeling more and more that this is where God was leading us, I found myself in Shawn’s office. That morning, instead of spending his time doing what he usually did on a Tuesday morning, he spent the time we had showing me how to be a better youth pastor in Sheridan. He introduced me to Twitter and the networking system that opens up. He introduced me to a myriad of online services for youth ministers and he started handing me tangible resources off of his wall. Shawn had no such obligations to me at this point, but as mentioned earlier, Shawn’s heart is for the mentoring and building up of youth ministers so they can better build up their students so that in the end, God be glorified.
That Wednesday we were offered and accepted the position at Destiny. From that day on, I do not believe that there was a single day when Shawn and I were not in communication about one thing or another, from his youth kids and their needs to how the Destiny youth program is run to how to better utilize online programs and applications so that I could be a better minister for my youth kids in Sheridan and for the Destiny kids when I arrived. For four months Shawn has been dedicated to helping prepare me for the trials set before me.
The last month of my life, my first month in Rapid, was spent working in tandem with Shawn. Not many people would be comfortable training their successor. They would feel threatened by the presence of the new guy. If Shawn felt this way he had the grace and patience to not show it but rather to become my friend. Over the last four weeks Shawn and I have worked and sweated next to each other. We made phone calls and emails and texts and Twitter direct messages to each other at all hours of the day and night so that we as a team could better serve the youth of Destiny Forusquare.
Today and tomorrow as Shawn and his family leave Rapid City to pursue the new adventures God has placed before them, I feel sad. My friend is moving away, and I will miss him. Not many predecessors have the integrity and personality that would make the person coming in not want them to leave. It is with this blog that I share my feelings towards one of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. I believe that I will end with this, I believe it is fitting. It is a quote from Pastor Scott in Sheridan, his signature farewell:
Grace, mercy and peace to you and your family, my friend.
July 24, 2010
Petra Means Rock
Greetings from the deep end!
As promised on Facebook and Twitter one week ago last night, this is my Petra blog.
Twenty years ago, I was seven years old. My friends had introduced me to Petra. A rock band that all of their high school aged brothers and cousins were excited about. I begged my mother to get me what I believed was their first "tape" (a music storing device not as nice as a CD with much less to offer than vinyl) called Beyond Belief. Later I would learn that Beyond Belief was their 12th of album of what would become 21 albums.
Through Petra's music I was introduced to some of the greatest song writing in all of rock music history, via Bob Hartman. I was also introduced to a kind of religion that wasn't about looking real and sounding real but actually getting into the dirt, digging deep, and regardless of mistakes or past sins, being real. Much of my early learning and questions about God were spawned from questions from Petra albums. I learned early with my second Petra cassette that what it means to really be a man is to be willing so fully surrender to God and His will (This Means War!).
As time went on, around the age of 15, I began to play guitar. I still, 12 years later, cannot play much of what Bob Hartman wrote but I began to search out music to find where I fit. Interestingly enough, I found my home in Christian Rock. Cutting hard metal with biblically solid lyrical background. Four years later I found myself going to college to become a worship leader. Listening back at those first Petra albums that I listened to when I was little, my sound is quite similar. It is evident that the music I listened to twenty years ago is still influencing me today.
As I was growing up there was never an opportunity for me to see Petra play live. A few years ago when I heard they were going to retire I made peace with the fact that I would simply have to wait for an encore performance in heaven. I know what some of you are thinking. THERE WILL BE NO ROCK MUSIC IN HEAVEN!!! I would disagree. I believe that God gave rock and roll to you, and me for that matter. Besides that, God created the sub woofer and I believe that in heaven "22's" are measured in feet not inches. I was gonna skip over all of the biblical characters and just snag John Schlitt and Bob Hartman and have them play for me. Selfish perhaps, but I figure the line to smack Adam would be too long anyway.
That WAS the plan. Shortly after accepting the new job in Rapid City I checked the Hills Alive web site and almost passed out when I looked at the main stage line up and saw a picture of four men. Two I had never seen before, two were men I knew the likenesses of quite well. The caption at the bottom of the picture simply said, Petra.
So, last Friday morning, I woke at ONEcamp. I got up with the kids, packed my bedding, helped pack camp, returned to Rapid City to unload trucks and trailers, take a quick nap and be on the fence in front of the Hills Alive stage twenty minutes before Petra came on the stage. I screamed more than I should, was impressed that the father of Christian Metal guitar still played practically flawlessly, that John Schlitt could still hit all but the very highest notes (the ones that would have broken glass) and that they sounded just like the tapes, CD's and LP's that I have listened to all my life. I stood at the fence, I leaned on it for most of the show, I could reach out and touch the stage right monitor that Mr. Schlitt was using. At one point in the show, Mr. Hartman came to center stage to do a solo, he saw me taking a picture with my phone, leaned towards me and smiled. This was the best show of my life.
Perhaps what touched me the most, and many people may not understand why, but at the end of the show, I was talking to a friend back stage just outside of the back stage fence and I saw Bob Hartman leaving the stage area. He was carrying his own guitar, in a soft case.
The reader at this point may be considering whether or not Derick is over glorifying men. Perhaps a little idol worship is going on here. I say dear friend, that is not so. I simply believe in giving credit where credit is due. I am blessed to have been able to witness the fathers of Christian rock play in my lifetime. These are men who were faithful to the Father when all of Christianity thought they were of the devil. They were obedient when most of the church would have rather had them excommunicated than rock with them. I believe that it was through these men's ministry that I am able to lead worship from the electric guitar and minister to kids the way that I do. We practically had concert style audio at camp last week. I am convinced that if these men had not done what they did, and God had not used another rout to bring freedom to the worshiping masses, that youth camp last week would have been 84 teenagers with hymnals and an old organ.
As promised on Facebook and Twitter one week ago last night, this is my Petra blog.
Twenty years ago, I was seven years old. My friends had introduced me to Petra. A rock band that all of their high school aged brothers and cousins were excited about. I begged my mother to get me what I believed was their first "tape" (a music storing device not as nice as a CD with much less to offer than vinyl) called Beyond Belief. Later I would learn that Beyond Belief was their 12th of album of what would become 21 albums.
Through Petra's music I was introduced to some of the greatest song writing in all of rock music history, via Bob Hartman. I was also introduced to a kind of religion that wasn't about looking real and sounding real but actually getting into the dirt, digging deep, and regardless of mistakes or past sins, being real. Much of my early learning and questions about God were spawned from questions from Petra albums. I learned early with my second Petra cassette that what it means to really be a man is to be willing so fully surrender to God and His will (This Means War!).
As time went on, around the age of 15, I began to play guitar. I still, 12 years later, cannot play much of what Bob Hartman wrote but I began to search out music to find where I fit. Interestingly enough, I found my home in Christian Rock. Cutting hard metal with biblically solid lyrical background. Four years later I found myself going to college to become a worship leader. Listening back at those first Petra albums that I listened to when I was little, my sound is quite similar. It is evident that the music I listened to twenty years ago is still influencing me today.
As I was growing up there was never an opportunity for me to see Petra play live. A few years ago when I heard they were going to retire I made peace with the fact that I would simply have to wait for an encore performance in heaven. I know what some of you are thinking. THERE WILL BE NO ROCK MUSIC IN HEAVEN!!! I would disagree. I believe that God gave rock and roll to you, and me for that matter. Besides that, God created the sub woofer and I believe that in heaven "22's" are measured in feet not inches. I was gonna skip over all of the biblical characters and just snag John Schlitt and Bob Hartman and have them play for me. Selfish perhaps, but I figure the line to smack Adam would be too long anyway.
That WAS the plan. Shortly after accepting the new job in Rapid City I checked the Hills Alive web site and almost passed out when I looked at the main stage line up and saw a picture of four men. Two I had never seen before, two were men I knew the likenesses of quite well. The caption at the bottom of the picture simply said, Petra.
So, last Friday morning, I woke at ONEcamp. I got up with the kids, packed my bedding, helped pack camp, returned to Rapid City to unload trucks and trailers, take a quick nap and be on the fence in front of the Hills Alive stage twenty minutes before Petra came on the stage. I screamed more than I should, was impressed that the father of Christian Metal guitar still played practically flawlessly, that John Schlitt could still hit all but the very highest notes (the ones that would have broken glass) and that they sounded just like the tapes, CD's and LP's that I have listened to all my life. I stood at the fence, I leaned on it for most of the show, I could reach out and touch the stage right monitor that Mr. Schlitt was using. At one point in the show, Mr. Hartman came to center stage to do a solo, he saw me taking a picture with my phone, leaned towards me and smiled. This was the best show of my life.
Perhaps what touched me the most, and many people may not understand why, but at the end of the show, I was talking to a friend back stage just outside of the back stage fence and I saw Bob Hartman leaving the stage area. He was carrying his own guitar, in a soft case.
The reader at this point may be considering whether or not Derick is over glorifying men. Perhaps a little idol worship is going on here. I say dear friend, that is not so. I simply believe in giving credit where credit is due. I am blessed to have been able to witness the fathers of Christian rock play in my lifetime. These are men who were faithful to the Father when all of Christianity thought they were of the devil. They were obedient when most of the church would have rather had them excommunicated than rock with them. I believe that it was through these men's ministry that I am able to lead worship from the electric guitar and minister to kids the way that I do. We practically had concert style audio at camp last week. I am convinced that if these men had not done what they did, and God had not used another rout to bring freedom to the worshiping masses, that youth camp last week would have been 84 teenagers with hymnals and an old organ.
July 14, 2010
Fell in the Pond.
Greetings from the deep end!
I actually was in the deep end yesterday. Well, kind of. It only came up to my chest. I guess that I'm getting ahead of myself. Bring on the whirly-wiggly-fuzzy-edge-of-the-screen effects and let the story fade into sepia tone. It is time for a little back story.
I am and have been at Kamp Kinship in the Black Hills of South Dakota with Foursquare ONEcamp (dang, that's a lot of titles) since Sunday afternoon. Shortly after I arrived I took a moment to view the camp pond from a window in the sanctuary. I told Shawn that I wanted to go swimming. He laughed a little and said something along the lines of, "see that eight foot circle of rope? That's the swimming area." My plans to go swimming vanished instantly. I did notice, however, that the camp has a few paddle boats and kayaks. I thought that kayaking might be a fun thing to try.
Fast forward to yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon. I had nothing better to do, my kids were either at the zip line, the rock wall or the pond and I thought a nice leisurely trip around the pond would be a nice, relaxing thing to do. I get down to the pond where life guard Amy immediately spots that I am a trouble maker (she has no idea) and gives me the quick, "you gotta wear a life jacket that was made for a guy 1/32nd your size if you are gonna boat". Me, being quick to follow the orders of a sixteen year old with a whistle threw one on. It only smelled a little like fish and B.O. I was waiting on the dock when my kayak arrived. It was the smallest one on the water. A little tiny voice in my head said, "Maybe you oughta wait for a bigger one there Sketch". Sometimes my inner voice calls me Sketch. I told Inner Voice to shut up! I've been on lakes and water and boats my whole life! So I kneel down on the dock, Lyle is holding the boat steady for me. I get my feet in and without really thinking about it drop the rest of myself into the seat.
Have you ever had a time where you thought to yourself something along the lines of, "Wouldn't it be (crazy, weird, funny, crappy, etc...) if...." and then the thing you were gonna think of actually happened. As I slid into the boat it rocked to the right pretty hard. Inner Voice said, "Wouldn't it be interesting if..." Then the water started to rush into the boat with me. Water doesn't belong in the boat with me. I belong in the boat with me. Water is neither welcome or invited to the "me, myself, and I" party in the boat. Water crashed the party. Hard. As the water rose and my head started to go under the water I imagined Lyle on the other side of the boat helping it along. I would have if I were in his shoes. The life jacket that was meant for a person 1/64th of my size joined in on the fun and began choking me. Lyle got the boat right side up enough (THANK GOD FOR LYLE!!!) that I could kick my way out of the boat. I immediately ripped off the murderous life vest, put my feet down and stood up. The water came to mid chest. I looked down and was very glad that I had remembered to take the video camera out of my pocket (THANK GOD AGAIN!!!) My staff badge was full of water and one of the students that was swimming a little ways away said, "Hey Derick! Your puffer is floating behind you!" THANK GOD AGAIN!!!
That is my story. It happened mostly like that. I am now dry and nice smelling again. I was able to remove all sand and pond weed from my shoes, clothing and person. Didn't really learn anything here but you know what? I would be really embarrassed about this if this kind of thing didn't happen to me so regularly.
I actually was in the deep end yesterday. Well, kind of. It only came up to my chest. I guess that I'm getting ahead of myself. Bring on the whirly-wiggly-fuzzy-edge-of-the-screen effects and let the story fade into sepia tone. It is time for a little back story.
I am and have been at Kamp Kinship in the Black Hills of South Dakota with Foursquare ONEcamp (dang, that's a lot of titles) since Sunday afternoon. Shortly after I arrived I took a moment to view the camp pond from a window in the sanctuary. I told Shawn that I wanted to go swimming. He laughed a little and said something along the lines of, "see that eight foot circle of rope? That's the swimming area." My plans to go swimming vanished instantly. I did notice, however, that the camp has a few paddle boats and kayaks. I thought that kayaking might be a fun thing to try.
Fast forward to yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon. I had nothing better to do, my kids were either at the zip line, the rock wall or the pond and I thought a nice leisurely trip around the pond would be a nice, relaxing thing to do. I get down to the pond where life guard Amy immediately spots that I am a trouble maker (she has no idea) and gives me the quick, "you gotta wear a life jacket that was made for a guy 1/32nd your size if you are gonna boat". Me, being quick to follow the orders of a sixteen year old with a whistle threw one on. It only smelled a little like fish and B.O. I was waiting on the dock when my kayak arrived. It was the smallest one on the water. A little tiny voice in my head said, "Maybe you oughta wait for a bigger one there Sketch". Sometimes my inner voice calls me Sketch. I told Inner Voice to shut up! I've been on lakes and water and boats my whole life! So I kneel down on the dock, Lyle is holding the boat steady for me. I get my feet in and without really thinking about it drop the rest of myself into the seat.
Have you ever had a time where you thought to yourself something along the lines of, "Wouldn't it be (crazy, weird, funny, crappy, etc...) if...." and then the thing you were gonna think of actually happened. As I slid into the boat it rocked to the right pretty hard. Inner Voice said, "Wouldn't it be interesting if..." Then the water started to rush into the boat with me. Water doesn't belong in the boat with me. I belong in the boat with me. Water is neither welcome or invited to the "me, myself, and I" party in the boat. Water crashed the party. Hard. As the water rose and my head started to go under the water I imagined Lyle on the other side of the boat helping it along. I would have if I were in his shoes. The life jacket that was meant for a person 1/64th of my size joined in on the fun and began choking me. Lyle got the boat right side up enough (THANK GOD FOR LYLE!!!) that I could kick my way out of the boat. I immediately ripped off the murderous life vest, put my feet down and stood up. The water came to mid chest. I looked down and was very glad that I had remembered to take the video camera out of my pocket (THANK GOD AGAIN!!!) My staff badge was full of water and one of the students that was swimming a little ways away said, "Hey Derick! Your puffer is floating behind you!" THANK GOD AGAIN!!!
That is my story. It happened mostly like that. I am now dry and nice smelling again. I was able to remove all sand and pond weed from my shoes, clothing and person. Didn't really learn anything here but you know what? I would be really embarrassed about this if this kind of thing didn't happen to me so regularly.
| “I didn’t do it, nobody saw me do it, you can’t prove anything.” Bart Simpson |
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