Two creams and no sugar please.

Something happened when I was in 3rd grade. I don't remember what it was. I was pulled out of the school I was going to and put into a new school where they tested me every day and had me sit with a counselor. I have been going to a private boys school called Mount Providence in Normandy MO. The new school had the name Grace in it but I do not think it was a normal school. I only went there for a few months. I remember they had atomically correct dolls to play with. Naked dolls. They also had big mirrors in the classrooms. If the light was right you could see through them and there was a room with people on the other side. I liked to see if I could jump over to them and cup my hands around my eyes and watch them try to hide. I realize now that teachers do not all wear white smocks like they did there. One of the last meetings I had there was with my counselor and my parents I remember him saying that in his opinion I could live in normal society but never really be a part of normal society. Now when you had a self image with that label you might just have a different life than every one else you know.

It was also in my 3rd grade year that my teacher at Mt. Providence told us that we all had to be individuals. If you have ever seen a group of 8 year old boys with their shirts untucked, shoes untied and zippers down you will know what she was trying to do. It was the colors of our time...

Anyway I thought, if every one is trying to be different, to really be different, I should try to be the same. I should try to be like everyone else and that would make me the only one doing that so I would be the different one. I guess it worked I got thrown in a stupid school where I was told I could kind of fit in.

Now here's the good part. I read. I read a lot. I read about people that change the world. People don't write a lot about people that don't change the world. These people are different. They seem to operate in society but are never really part of it. They change it. There is also a real big revolution of everyday people protesting the top 1% here in the US. I have to laugh at them because I know they never go outside of the US and they don't realize they are all part of the top 3% of the world. I wonder if the top 1% have ever been told that they can operate in society but never be part of it. I believe the protesters would have been called "the Mob" in Rome.

To wrap up this morning I was told once there are 2 types of people and the same water that hardens a egg will soften a carrot. Meaning in a boiling situation some hearts will harden against the world and some will soften. I believe there is a 3rd type. A coffee bean. They just change the water.

So in summery, I have tried to be like everyone else only to be different, I can survive in Society but will never be a part. I might actually be in the top 1% of the world and I may also be a coffee bean,

My self image is pretty secure and it is time for a refill.

Once a Day

I guess it was about 20 years ago it started. For even a while before that I would use New Years Eve as a time to create resolutions to do throughout the year. These where always different from others resolutions where other people seem to want to give something up or start a new habit. My resolution were things I was going to do sometime in the up coming year. This particular year I was going to read the Bible. I didn't want to take to big a jump so I got the New Testiment only Bible in in Year. It's about a third the size of the whole Bible. It started me on a regiment of reading every day. I remember how excited I was when on December 31 a year later When I actually finished it.

The next year it was the entire Bible and once again I finished it in a year.

The next year I heard that there were 31 Proverbs and 31 day in certain months so I started reading a Proverb a month. I did that every day for that year.

The next year I started reading a chapter a month. I have been doing that now for about 20 years. Mostly business books and Biographies. Once or twice a year I will pick up a fictional story. I guess I have read 20-30 books a year for about 20 years.

A few months ago I reread Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz. I have decided that I will reread a chapter a day till the end of the year. I will supplement it with bio's only. One of the things in PS is that you need to remind yourself of past success's and not failures so in my journal I have ended each daily entry with a positive reminded from my past.

This morning my ASM, (read all about it) suggested that I blog my success's. I think that's a good idea. I really would not like to be remembered for my failure's. Beside's there might not be enough space on the web for those. So.

I  was on the set of Nashville last week and I received a text from a client Julie S. at the Monroe Harding Foster Care center. I had done their Summer Carnival a couple weeks earlier. While there she had said they were having trouble finding Faster Families. I mentioned that I was on the board at MADD and since these are parents that have lost kids to drunk divers maybe they could set up a table at the MADD walk in a few weeks? I am on the logistics team for that event also. She said in her text that she had been accepted as a table for the Upcoming MADD event.

The next text was from the Chair at MADD and the text thanked me for recommending Monroe Harding. She said it may be a great way to bring healing to the Parents who have suffered such a great loss.

As I read the text I said in my outer voice "Wow, I'm so cool." That was overheard by a couple people who didn't know me. When I realized how arrogant that sounded I had to tell them the whole story. After I did told them I said I was saying it because of the way things where working out and that I was not cool but this event I was orchestrating was. One lady stopped me and said, "No I agree. You are cool."

Well Okay if you must think so?

Lessons from Chi

My father and I had a very difficult relationship. Mostly because of me I am sure. He was killed when I was 19 and the authorities have so far not been able to find the killer. The story is I was afraid of being lost as a child so I named him Chi. If I yelled Dad all the other dads would come but if I yelled Chi only he would come find me.

When I was young he had a number of jobs like most young men trying to find their way in the world. He worked as a salesman and a music teacher. He taught English as a second language and music. He studied hard and became a Insurance Salesman and helped to create a new industry called Financial Planning. In fact he was the first Dean of the College of Financial Planners. We take it for granted but I remember him traveling around the country telling people about this new field. He wrote a book and had his name removed by an unscrupulous partner. Can you believe that??? Anyway he taught me 2 things I have used all my life.

1)      Only a Lawyer can legally give you legal advice and only a Doctor can give you legally give you medical advice, but ANYONE can read their books.

2)      If you have something to do you have never done before find the laziest person to do it because they will find the easiest way.

I think he would say outwork Everyone but think lazy and read everything.

Do you know I read a chapter a day? My own personal discipline and I pride myself on outworking everyone. I know I am considered a Know-it-All, but in my defense think if you had read 30 – 35 books a year for 40 years in any field that you were facing or that caught your fancy? Now with the internet what I am able to research and retain is incredible.

I guess my dad left a mark on me I am very proud of. I wish he could see what I have become. I never told him but I am proud of what he became. 

Awesome Wasem

So this will be really short. I was at church a couple months ago and my Pastor, Pete Wilson, mentioned that when we go to to heaven we will be given new names. I wondered what mine would be. God spoke to me and asked if I remembered what my name was before I was a Christian?
I thought 'well, I was called Art the Fart'
What do they call you now that you are a Christian?
'they call me Awesome Wasem'
I felt a smile,
Wait, my name is Awesome?
Smile
Wow, Thats Awesome.
We both smiled,,,
Doesn't end there. The next Tuesday I was at work and ran into a colleague and he called me Awesome Wasem as he passed. I mentioned that it was cool he remembered my last name.
He said it wasn't hard since when I had given him my phone number he noticed that the phonetic spelling was aw-sem. He said he remembered it because my first initial and last name pronounced the word awesome.
56 years on the planet and I never realized that my name spelled aw-sem and always has.

When my kids were growing up we had a ritual. When you pulled my finger you got a hug. Around 8 they were invited to their first sleep over and when they came home in the morning the first thing they would say was, "You know that pull the finger thing? It not the same in every house."
My ex looking less than amused would say "You really waited 8 years for that joke?"
Yeppers?
I realized God had planned my name since the beginning.
I know He is planning something awesome in your life also. Have you found it? I would love to know what it is.

Travel First days

Day 1 trip 2

I had Tameray drive me to the airport. Once again to journey, Once again travel, what I do to do what I do I am going to Africa, I do not have much planned but have a loose idea of what I would like to accomplish.

I traveled first from Nashville to Atlanta and then from Atlanta to Paris. On the way I thought I’ll have a glass of wine. Then a second. I do not know if it was the malaria medicine or the pressure in the cabin but I got very light headed, Then very hot and cold sweets. I when to the back and literally fell over on a couple seats. The cabin crew brought me to the back and laid me down with my feet up and gave me some ice for my head. Once I felt better I went back to my seat. This happened 3 times on the 9 hour flight. On the third time to the back I threw up and felt much better. I was not able to sleep but at least I was not terribly sick. In Paris I checked into the Flight for Africa and they asked if I was alright. They sent me to the medic and I had to get a clearance to get on the Plane for Entebbe. It was a long and interesting flight to Africa. I was next to the soundman for a Ugandan group call the Elephant Man. He had been on tour in Europe and was returning home. Of course he was in First class but his crew was in coach. Haha. We arrived 1.5 hours late to Nairobi. I had told George and Kathy that I would meet them in Kenya but only got to pass them briefly on the plane. Kathy had been worried about me but George said that “Art can take care of Art” This of course is true. I do tend to find myself in situations but am very creative on the ways I recover. We fly to Entebbe and I sat by a young Indian man who works for a NGO that does water wells in remote areas. Once in the airport I stood by the baggage carousel for about 15 minutes before it became apparent that my bags had not made it. They would not arrive till the next day. I met Andrew the Director of Desana in Uganda and off we went to Kampala. I tried to call Rebecca because I believed I was staying with her, well not WITH her but I the boys house, geesh, but her number was not working. Michael was going to pick me up at the Sheraton but I was going to call her when I got to Uganda and tell him to leave. After not being able to reach them I was asked by Andrew if I would like to spend the night with him. Michael it turned out had been at the Sheraton and after I did not arrive the hotel asked him to move his car to the parking garage. That is when we showed up so we missed each other but like 15 minutes. He ended staying there all night and we met for breakfast and place called 1000 cups of coffee. Man I forgot how good fresh Ugandan Coffee is. I felt terrible about not meeting him. Rebecca felt terrible about not giving me Michaels number and Michael I think felt horrible missing a night of sleep.

The next morning George and I were going to go up to Shegonda and see the work that Desansa had done up there. They had built the best building in the Marumbe province. They call it the Whitey House like Obama lives in. Well not exactly. We met John and Emma. They had set up a VIP meeting for us. Remember me in a tee shirt and 50 hours in the same clothes with no bath.  They had the representative from the King of Luganda, and the magistrate from the Provence. Also about 6 VIPs from the district, board of Education, and city government.  If that was not bad enough they asked us to a speech day. We wanted to meet the Chief Medical Official because we may had an in for some equipment to be donated. Of course today it would be in front of 3000 people and they asked George to speak. May be a good thing I had on a tee shirt. We then went to Mobende Hospital and had a tour. I imminently remembered the smell of death. Babies and mothers on cold unwashed concret floors. burns, AIDS, TB, broken bones.I coulndn’t take pictures. Not that I was not allowed. I wouldn’t show the dentist’s chair. blood and mud cover the exposed filling were the vinyl had torn away years ago. We then went to a clinic where things were much better, except for the 200 people waiting for their turn to be seen by the 1 doctor that day. Some days there is no Doctor, but still hundreds show up. Then back to Kampala, Now my clothers had shown up and I called Michael again and invited him and Rebecca to dinner. They were both very tired. After I had put them through a lot. I stayed again at Michael s and this time there was power. 

Well long enough to take a shower and wash off 3 days of travel.  

Day 4 Trip 2

This is going to be so hard to write. As I looked out at the 2000 faces here. Most in utter poverty.  I am awash with so many emotions. Mostly just astounded by His great love for all His people. That he loves every one of these. I will never know most of these kids. I will never know their Mothers, Their Dads, Their Teachers. Their friends. But I do know their God. I am so totally broken and weary I cannot believe. I  is everything I can do to keep it together.

I am at Royal Hope Academy. A part of Rebecca Sorensen’s, My Fathers House International. I was picked up finally, by Michael this morning, We drove over unbelievably bad and dangerous road to the Boys house. Rebecca said it was up to me if I even came because there were holding a “speech day” I did not know what that was but I thought I may be another pair of hands to help. I did not know what I could do but I would do my best. I dropped off a bag of stuff, Said hello to Rebecca and we went to the school. The one I had helped build. I was amazing. Finished, painted blue. I was over whelmed at the beauty of is. The simplicity I had no idea of what was to come. I walked into the room that I had built. On the desks were the drums for the program, Really in the room I built, drums? Sometimes God just hits you over the head.  Michael put me to work with Martin and Chris, both boys who live at the orphanage Older kids. We set up the system. I described why it was best to do it that way. Martin runs the sound at the church he boys attend and was the one assigned to hook everything up. I know I was able to help. Next Chris had me build a Christmas tree. I told him only God can make a tree but I’d try. It was fun.  Then came the lights and the ability every road guys gets with untangling cables came into play again. Hooking up the generator, bare wire into 240 volts held with a stick. Oh Africa…

Then the program started. Kids from the school, 400 of them, with the siblings, parents, grandparents. Everyone wanted education. So many people. I looked at the room that I had built the walls. I remember taking pictures of Halie as she was rolled around in a wheel barrel. I remember Jarrod and Jason hamming on the walls Amanda wondering if she was making any difference digging a hole in the middle of the bare floor. I wish she could see the concert floor now. Where so many bare feet and mist matched sandals come every day for a education just as they do all over the world.  I remembered Joseph the builder, the carpenter, when I had scrapped my arm on a board telling me I had to go to the clinic.

“It is bleeding” he said.

“It is only a scrap” I replied.

“People in Uganda die from a scrap.” He shot back so seriously.

I thought as I sat behind the board, my blood is in this building. My DNA was on a board or a nail somewhere here. Then I remembered His blood was poured out for the world. The connection I had with the place was just a fraction of His to this world. There are 7 billion people on the planet, 28 on our team. 7 of which worked on this building. And here I was. One. Me. Watching 400 children graduate a year after I had been there, working sound, teaching audio. Completely overwhelmed but the fact all I did was say yes. Yes I would go. Yes I would face my fear. Yes I would pay a price. Yes I would sacrifice, Yes I would share the only gift I had to give. Knowing now, finally, I had a place, a purpose, A reason. Value. They all thanked me so much for coming, So much for caring. I was so speechless.

Does every Missionary have these moments with God? Why didn’t any one ever tell me just how wonderful it is. How humbling, how astounding.

Now I know it is nothing compared to what Michael and Rebecca and the teachers, cooks, facility do every day. Oh Lord, and these beautiful, beautiful children. Please bless their futures. I can never thank Him enough for letting me witness this day. Can I describe the amazing food? Cooked special for this day. The friendships I have made. Chris, Martin, Isaac, Nelson, Oh Phobe Sozi was the special guest. I woman I met with her husband Peter last year in Rakai. I was able to show her the pictures of Eddie and send a message to him and her daughter Pearl who was a singer and dreamed of recording some day for the Lord. I wonder if I am going to have any part of that.  Stay tuned.

Abandoned, packed away, and forgotten.

So for a while I was without a car in San Diego. Not a good place to be. Remember the Missing Persons song “Walking in LA”? Same thing. One day I left a book on the bus. So I called the transit department and was told that they kept them at the Oceanside station. So off I went the next day. When I arrived a woman brought out a box of about 40 books mostly bibles. I asked what they do with them and she said that every couple months or so they would throw them away. Well, I always had need for Bibles so I asked if I could come by and pick them up. I did this for about 3 years. Every couple months I would go by and pick up the Bibles. There were some for other denominations that were translated for their denomination and others that were companion books. Most of those I recycled. Still better than throwing away.

When I moved to Nashville I picked a little orange Gideon’s Bible out of the Bibles I collected mostly because I liked the orange color. I didn’t know at the time it was the Tennessee State color.  It traveled with me on my first and every trip to Nashville but then it was thrown in a box and lived there for about 8 years. It stayed in that box every time I moved. When we were going on the VO trip to Africa Mama Amanda said we should bring a pocket Bible with us. The little orange Bible came to mind so I dug it out and remembered the story of where I found it and how it had been in a box for years.

Off we went to Africa. The first day the group was doing a skit about the Good Samaritan and the narrator, Emily, asked if anyone had a Bible? Really,,, I was with about 20, what I considered real Christians and the only Bible we had was the little orange one. I don’t think Emily liked reading it. It is pretty small after all. I know she didn’t forget to bring one after that. Well on the first Sunday we were able to go to church with Pastor Isaac and as he was preaching he mentioned the Word of God was a weapon. You can use it to shoot Satan, pull it out and defeat the enemy when they attack. He asked if anyone had ever seen one of the little ones the Gideon’s hand out? Well, guess what came out of my pocket ? I will never forget him holstering it in his belt and pulling it out and shooting Satan’s voice, shooting discouragement, shooting lies, shooting anger, shooting evil.

In his belt it would go,

Out it would come and pop, the word would overcome whatever the enemy was sending against us.

Bang, bang, bang,

We were laughing so hard. Cheering, all the time I was thinking about the little Bible, once abandoned,  moved over and over again, often forgotten, packed away, alone, being used again on the other side of the world for what it was created for, encouragement, teaching, healing, laughter and freedom. How often is God’s word just like this? I thought of myself and so many of my friends. How we are so much like the little orange Bible. Just waiting to be picked up, dusted us off, and go.

So in about 5 hours I leave again for Africa. Next to me in the mesh netting of a pocket of my book bag sits a little orange Bible. I really feel like it is smiling, like it is happy to go once again the far reaches of the world. I know this is weird, but I think it knows what it is going to do. I think it always has, I can’t wait to see the rest of the story.