Thanks to all who’ve prayed for my dad. My mom was pretty much amazed by and very grateful for the fact that people who don’t even know my dad were praying! (Side note to my brother: “Amazin’, ain’t it, Tom?!?!?”)

Anyway, they released my dad from the hospital yesterday after a CT scan didn’t show anything. They sent him home, forbade him from taking his daily aspirin, and they will see him sometime next week for that bladder scan thing. When I talked to my mom just a few minutes ago, my dad was washing dishes, and he had been out and about, pretty much as normal, except with a catheter.

Thanks again for the thoughts and prayers. It ain’t over yet, apparently, but it ain’t immediately life-threatening right now, either.

I’m a dabbler, a dilettante, if you will, in a lot of things. Jack of all, master of none, you get the idea…

Anyway, I’ve always kind of liked photography, though I’ve never been real serious about it.

I started out with a Polaroid Big Swinger that I “inherited” from my brother. Graduated later to a Kodak Ektra 1 (remember 110 film and FlipFlash?). Then, one of our wedding gifts to ourselves was the Nikon FG-20.

Just this week, I inherited a Vivitar ViviCam 5385 – this time from “The Boy” who got a new one – but that’s story for another day – some people have all the luck.

Anyway, most of my photography has been snapshot stuff of family gatherings, drum corps shows, vacations, and the like. Nothing real profound or beautiful or whatever.

This morning, while looking for something else, I came across a link to LIFE Magazine’s digital photography feature, 100 Photographs That Changed the World. I’m not sure I agree with all their picks, but there are some pretty poignant and significant images there.

It is true, that old saying, how many words one good picture is worth…

Earlier this month, I posted that I was enjoying looking at listening to Diana Krall and her The Girl in the Other Room CD. It’s on again in the background this morning, and these lyrics from “Narrow Daylight” just grabbed me…

I ran up through the rocks to the old wooden cross
It’s a place where I can find some peace

Peace, indeed…

A lot of “church folks” are concerned about a lot of “church issues.” One of the hot-button issues in our tribe of late has been what the future looks like as one generation of leaders “passes the baton” to the next.

A lot folks are saying a lot of things, but what are they – we? – really doing about it?

Joe Thorn says at least seven good actions are taking place right now.

Thanks, Marty Duren, for the link.

Ah, the 80s! When Michael Jackson was still a talented young black man, instead of a washed-up, butt-ugly white woman! (Only in America…!)

Ah, the 80s! When MTV still played music! Like one of my favorite videos by Aha!

Watch what happens when Family Guy takes a trip back to an 80s video parallel universe. Too funny!

BTW, the MilkandCookies folks include the original “Take On Me” video for comparison. Click on the Aha! link above…

Fred Barnes is one of my favorite journalist/commentators. He’s trying to live out his faith as a Jesus-apprentice in one of the least Jesus-apprentice-friendly atmospheres – the newsroom.

Barnes argues that believers ought to make more of an impact on their profession and their world in this article from Boundless…

The truth is, Christian journalists in America have it relatively easy. Sure, journalism is a breathtakingly materialist profession. And, yes, newsrooms often are hostile environments to people who take their Christian faith seriously. I�ve talked to many young Christians who steer clear of mainstream journalism for exactly this reason. But Christ didn�t promise us a congenial environment � quite the contrary. My advice to young journalists is to gut it out. There will always be enough writers for Christian publications, but never enough Christian writers and reporters to go around in the secular media.

OK, I’ll try to make this short and sweet, but I’ve gotta set it up so you, my loyal readers – yes, all both of you! – can get the picture…

Rewind back to 1998. The lovely and gracious “Mrs. Just Charlie” had been hired as a teacher just after the school year started. As you can imagine, we were running around like crazy, getting her employment stuff squared away, getting some new clothes for her to start work in, setting up her classroom, etc. – all the stuff teachers have to do. Right in the middle of all that, as we were in the middle of downtown Atlanta, my brother called from Savannah to tell us that my dad had been severely burned in a freak brush-burning accident, and was being helicoptered to the regional burn center in Augusta, about 2 hours away from Atlanta. Well, after a lengthy stay in the hospital, my dad was OK, and that school year turned into seven productive years for my wife.

Now, fast forward to 2005. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the lovely and gracious “Mrs. Just Charlie” is once again a kind of “late hire” for this school year. When her principal called to offer her the job a couple of weeks ago, coincidentally, my mom had just called “just to check in and see how we were doing.” I asked, half-jokingly, if everything was OK with my dad, since the last time my wife got a new teaching job, he ended up in the hospital. “Ha-ha!” we all laughed. “Wouldn’t that be funny?!” But my mom assured me that all was well with my dad, and we went on our merry way.

Now here comes the uncanny part…

Today was the lovely and gracious “Mrs. Just Charlie’s” first day at her new school. She went and had meetings all day, carried loads of supplies and classroom materials to her new room, etc. – all the stuff teachers have to do. At the end of a long, hot day, she came home to enjoy my world famous Grilled Lime Chicken and all the fixin’s. As we were cleaning up the dinner dishes, my mom called. “Guess what?” she asked. “You said the other day I was probably calling to tell you something was wrong with your dad since Vicki has gotten a new job.” Turns out my dad’s in the hospital in Savannah, with what appears to be some sort of pretty serious urinary tract/bladder problem. They’re not real sure at this point what they’re looking for, but they will be doing some kind of scan and other tests over the next few days.

I tell you – both of you, loyal readers – that long story to ask you this: If you’ve got a couple of extra prayers, if you don’t mind, would you send up one for my dad, Howard? He’d appreciate it. My mom will appreciate it. And so will I. Thanks!

I have learned to use the word �impossible� with the greatest caution.
� Werner von Braun, Engineer

Long day. Not a bad day…in fact, a pretty good day all the way around. But a long day nonetheless. Nodding and dozing slightly sitting here…Tony Bennett’s tribute to Ol’ Blue Eyes, his collaboration with k.d. lang on a tribute to Satchmo…you just can’t beat that for a winding down Sunday night!

(Oh, quick piece of advice, for what it’s worth…are you interested in buying Sinatra CDs, but aren’t sure which ones are really head and shoulders above the rest? Look for Frank wearing a hat on the cover…it’s not always surefire, but it is a pretty good rule of thumb. Just a thought…your mileage may vary…)

I’m teaching through Jonah on Sunday mornings, talking about “The God of the Second Chance.”

For years, as a church kid in Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, etc., I thought the worst thing that ever could have possibly happened to Jonah was getting swallowed by that “big ol’ fish.” (No “whale” anywhere to be seen…it might have been a big ol’ honkin’ catfish or goldfish or rainbow trout or bream, who knows?) (Oh, which also reminds me of that great old “preacher story,” where the little girl answers the agnostic by saying, “Well then you’ll have to ask him.”)

Where was I?

Oh, yeah…Jonah’s fish story as punishment. The real story is that the fish is actually God’s rescue of Jonah, not His punishment! How cool is that? Jonah was sinking, sinking, sinking in the depths of the sea, and God picked him up. He used a fish to do it, but He did it nonetheless.

Preparing for this morning’s talk, I came across Max Lucado’s take on Jonah from He Still Moves Stones…

Look at Jonah in the fish belly – surrounded by gastric juices and sucked-in seaweed. For three days God has left him there. For three days Jonah has pondered his choices. And for three days he has come to the same conclusion: he ain’t got one. He blew it as a preacher. He was a flop as a fugitive. At best he’s a coward, at worse a traitor. And what he’s lacked all along he now has in abundance – guts. So Jonah does the only thing he can do: he prays. He says nothing about how good he is – but a lot about how good God is. He doesn’t even ask for help, but help is what he gets. Before he can say amen, the belly convulses, the fish belches, and Jonah lands face first on the beach.

How often do we think God’s out to get us, when in reality He’s only out to get our attention – and engineer our circumstances to get us where we’re supposed to be?