tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87915411921552904002024-03-07T23:42:21.526-08:00The Bowels Of Victoryjoeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-63329897457972356382015-02-20T10:11:00.002-08:002015-03-07T07:53:16.479-08:00My Old Man and his Walking Cane( as a Weapon)<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-a212fd5f-a82d-e73a-d9bc-4f3d68f89bc8" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Disclaimer: This story is a story very few know. It is a story I was embarrassed by. But now after losing my dad, and on the one year anniversary of the incident, I feel compelled to share it. Because it is important that as Christians we don’t just share our great moments of wise decision making, but we share our tremendously flawed moments also. To relate we must be relatable, and to be relatable, we must be willing to share our gaffe’s. I am tremendously flawed, but because of Jesus and the Bible, we don’t have to be condemned for our mistakes.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">To say my father and I had a certain level of comical dysfunction at times would be a fair deduction. Today I write about a situation that wasn’t funny whatsoever at the time, but a year later to the day, and with losing him in between, it now strikes me as an irreplaceably glorious memory.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">On February 20, 2014 my dad was coming towards Syracuse for a medical appointment. We hadn’t seen each other in six months and we were going to meet for coffee. He called me to say that his car had broken down off the thruway, in the parking lot. When I arrived I jumped it and it started right up. As we were getting in the car to go get that coffee, a tow truck driver came up and asked what was going on. My dad explained that he was fine , his car just needed a jump and I gave it to him. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The tow truck driver said something along the lines of “Oh good, glad your car started, but someone here owes me 60 bucks for the service call.” My dad explained that he hadn’t asked for a tow truck, just that a highway worker asked what was wrong and he had told him “I might need a tow, but my son is on his way to jump me.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Little to my dad and I’s knowledge, the area off the thruway was contracted and was legally part of the thruway, so you were not allowed to jump someone in that lot. But that highway worker didn't explain that to him, instead called the contracted tow truck company, who came out to the lot. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It started as a pleasant conversation, but as my dad and the driver started slowly elevating their tone, I slowly backed away towards my car- with an eager ear, but a non willingness to be involved. Here is a loose transcript of how things went.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD (Tow truck driver)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D (Dad)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M: (Me)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Well, I’ll tell you what, I was told you asked for a tow, and here is your tow. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: I never asked for a tow, I told him I was broken down and might need a tow. I didn’t ask him to send anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Regardless, you are on thruway property and the fact your son jumped you means that both of you broke the law and both of you could be arrested. But someone is going to pay me 60 dollars here for my time, or the police are going to be involved. See the sign! (Points to small sign in the far corner of the lot)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Look at where that sign is! I can’t see that far!! You are out of your mind, I’m not paying you anything.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Well, if you’re not going to pay me then your son better pay me or you both are going to jail.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Oh, HI. I am not involved in this, sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Oh yes you are, the minute you illegally jumped him you became involved.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Oh. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Leave my son alone , this is between you and me. Let’s go Joe, sorry but you aren’t getting paid -you didn't do anything. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: OH YES I AM!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: (Utters a various smattering of profanities)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: I’m calling the police. ….“Yes sir we have 2 customers that are refusing to pay me for my work (D in background yelling “You didn’t do any work!”) Ya , let me give you their license plates in case they make a getaway</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Let’s go Joe.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I can’t be a fugitive... I just can’t. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I now am standing in front of my license plate because in my mind this guy is a whack job trying to involve me just because he is being terrible. The driver approaches my car insisting I move out of the way so he can give the cop my license number and when he gets within arms reach of me, I gave him a “ Hey I need some space here Hoss” shove. It was like a shove you would give your little brother when both of you are fighting over the last ho-ho as children. It was non-threatening, and for all intensive purposes really wimpy. It is actually the only time I have laid hands on anyone in an uninvited manner other than my little brother and best friend Jim, when we were kids. Not even knowing an even less manly shove than I had just doled out was possible, the driver gave me an even wimpier shove back- and that was it, that was the whole confrontation. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Officer this man just punched me in my face!!! He punched me square in ma face!!!!!!! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Oh come on are you serious? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">TTD:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I’m gonna go hide in my truck because I’m scared officer!!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tell him I gave you an ever so slight push away because you were in my personal space, please. Don’t lie.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">RTTD</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">These 2 are lunatics officer</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">M</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">: Huh?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The driver has now barricaded himself in his truck and my dad decided that with the push back at me, the driver had now wronged his son, and well, he wasn’t going to stand for that one iota. It is also important to note that my dad wasn't very agile at this point and had to walk with a cane. He hobbled over from his car to the truck drivers truck, approximately a 100 foot walk, and that is when his cane transformed into something else- a tool for banging on a window.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">D: You come at my son? Why didn’t you come at me? Come on out and get some!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (all the while banging the cane softly but with a stern message on the window)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Needless to say the driver stayed in his truck, my dad retreated, and I just stood in awe as the police arrived. Out of all of this, I was the only one charged with anything: “Second degree harassment.” Turns out if you touch someone, even with the most feeble and self defensive of touches, and even if they are invading your personal space to the point of smelling the Cheetos from their lunch on their breathe, if that person decides to press charges the police must press them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The driver backpedaled on his “he punched me in the face” story and admitted it was just a push. I sent an email to my brother and best friend Jim thanking them for never pressing charges for all the times I harmlessly pushed them over the years of our childhood. As I sat in the back of the cop car, the policeman assured me that this is by far the flimsiest second degree harassment request he has ever processed in his 15 years of work. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In the moment and following months afterwards, I was mad at my dad. Partly because he played into the moment and made it worse, and then I somehow got dragged into it. Partly because it reminded me of times over the years I wished he and I hadn’t gone this route of anger in our own arguments. And mostly because I now had to go home and explain to my wife why I got involved in an issue that didn’t involve me and now had to answer for it to the legal system. I wished he had just said something cute and whimsical to the driver and paid him the 60 bucks. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I lied and told my dad it was dismissed, because I knew he would be mad if he knew I actually had to pay the tow truck driver back as part of the plea for him to dismiss the charge (and 300 in lawyer fees, 60 became 360 really quickly). I didn’t want him to get upset, his cane may not have been able to take another incident.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You know, it is funny how when you lose someone stories that beforehand were so negative, become one’s you look upon with a sudden rush of positive emotion. When I look back at that crazy day one year ago today, I see it in a different light now- And I chuckle. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My dad and I had so often argued with each other about so many things. But the last hearty argument we ever had wasn’t with each other. We were actually somehow on the same team in this one, pitted against a disgruntled tow truck driver. ( I later called the driver to ask for forgiveness for whatever part I played. I found myself in his neighborhood some months later and drove by his house to find beer bottles laced along the window sills of his kitchen window. I stopped, paused, realized my mishandling of the situation no matter who was wrong or right, and prayed for this man’s life. It was a moment of humility for how humanly stupid and selfish I am a lot of the time, and how I dropped the ball on a chance to possibly be better than that in front of a person who seemingly had his own struggles, just like I did) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> As misguided and convoluted as it seemed at the time, the last time I saw my dad fighting with that feisty Italian fight that coursed through his veins for 67 years, he was fighting for my honor. Your fathers defense of you is incomparable and pure even in the most impure and bizarre scenarios. There is NO ONE that looks out for you more than your parents. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The official police report read, “ Old man was banging his cane against my window daring me to come out.” I didn’t find it funny at all at the time, no less a souvenir to keep forever to remind me of my ever so unique relationship with my father, but today it is a piece of paper I embrace.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I laugh when I look at that report now with an introspective longing for just one more chance to see him even at seemingly our worst of moments. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Old man with a cane banging on my window”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> means so much more to me now than what it says verbatim. To me , </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Old man with a cane banging on my window</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">”, now will always mean, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“My amazing, unparalleled, and perfectly imperfect father going to bat for me one last time.”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">..... </span></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> That day, I would have changed everything about that incident. Today??... I wouldn’t change a thing. </span>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-12094337071088728192015-01-20T15:54:00.000-08:002015-01-20T17:53:52.624-08:00A Tribute To My Father<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">I want to thank you on behalf
of our whole family for coming here today to remember my dad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to share a few thoughts and memories of
dad. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Psalm 139: 13 -16 says</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textps-139-13"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">For
you created my inmost being;</span></span><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;"><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-13">you knit me together in my mother’s womb.</span><br />
<span class="textps-139-14"><sup>14 </sup>I praise you because I am
fearfully and wonderfully made;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-14">your works are wonderful,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-14">I know that full well.</span><br />
<span class="textps-139-15"><sup>15 </sup>My frame was not hidden from you</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-15">when I was made in the secret place,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-15">when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.</span><br />
<span class="textps-139-16"><sup>16 </sup>Your eyes saw my unformed body;</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-16">all the days ordained for me were written in your book</span><br />
<span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="textps-139-16">before one of them came to be.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">He was born in 1947 to Rose
and Joseph DiBella. The first 2 years of his life he was hidden from most of
his family, and raised by his Godparents in an apartment above his parents. You
see his parents hadn’t been married yet, and word was that Grandmas parents
would kill her and Joseph if they found out, so my Grandma hid the pregnancy
and checked into the hospital under an alias to give birth to my dad. My
Grandma and Grandpa figured things out, determined to get things right and
raise my dad, and were married.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">It was time for my dads big reveal. I asked him
last month how they presented a 2 year old as a new born baby, and he laughed
and said hes not sure..and I asked if he knew how they told the family and he
jokingly said that they just took the napkin off the top of me and said “Here
he is!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">He grew up on Portland Ave and
graduated from Franklin
High School. He once told
us a story about how one of his best friends was having a fling with Olivia
Newton John back in the late 60’s, how she used to sneak into Rochester wearing a disguise and Dad and his
girlfriend used to double date with them. He said they went karaoking one night
and dad signed her up to sing, and when she found out it was him, she yelled at him " I'm going to kill you Rocky!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">He married my mom in 1977,
and I was born in 1980 and Ashley in 1983. My first concrete memory of him was
him holding and comforting me when we found out my Grandma died suddenly in
1984. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">I remember in the winter of
1985, he and mom told Ashley and I that they had a big surprise for us and they
were going to tell us after we picked mom up from work at city hall the next
day. We were sure we were going to Disney world and were so excited. When we
got home, dad told us the surprise was that we were having a baby. We cried
tears of anguish and sorrow over it not being Disney World. Of course Justin
ended up being a lot better than Disney world, but we didn’t know that at the
time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My dad always had a mustache as
long as I had known him, and then one day in the late 80’s , it was suddenly
gone without warning. I was terrified of him and his new look and wouldn’t let
him touch me for probably a week. Back then it was creepy to NOT have a
mustache. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My dad used to wake me up
some mornings with a horrible, horrible bugle noise that he would do with his hands
and mouth. He would do it over and over again, as loud as he could, until you
woke up and got out of bed. He even gave me the bugle call, upon request, one
last time last Tuesday prior to his death.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My dad was a great bowler and
even got on that old Sunday morning show bowling for dollars, in the late 80’s.
He also once saw a fire across the street from his job<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and ran across the street with a co worker.
There was a little boy on a floor above. They were telling him to jump because
it was the only way out. The boy was gun shy and hesitant , but dad and his co
worker implored him to jump and the boy finally jumped and they were able to catch him,
presumably saving him from who knows what kind of harm.. My sister even still has
the newspaper article highlighting it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My dad was a fantastic
baseball player, golfer, and as I mentioned,bowler.. My uncle Chris<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>told me Friday that dad<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was the best softball player he ever saw play,
even to this day- famous for his catch and throw delivery while pitching. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Above all, Baseball helped
form a special bond between my father and I. My dad loved baseball, and gave me
my love for the New York Yankees. Dad rarely missed a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yankees game the last 10 years of his life..
My first memory of watching a baseball game was being 8 and due to the late
start times I was only going to be able to stay up late for 1 world series game
in the 1988 world series and I picked the Saturday night game 1. We watched the
Kirk Gibson game on the couch together- just the 2 of us, probably one of the
best baseball games of all time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">In 1989 , he promised me he’d
take me to a Red Wings game the following Sunday. Problem is our car broke
down that week and we didn’t have a ride. But dad made a promise and he was
going to keep it. He asked our Landlord for a ride to Silver Stadium- we got in
for free and sat in the box seats because dad always “knew a guy.” But we
didn’t have a ride home. It was a day game, so we just started walking and
hitchhiking..Well, dad “knew a guy” and he pulled over and brought us home
after about 2 or 3 miles of walking. My dad wasn’t gonna let the details cause
him to have to let me down that day, and Ill
forever remember that special game together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">And I will never forget Dads
first time at Yankee Stadium in July of 1995. I had already been there a few
times, so I just wanted to soak in his face and reaction as we walked in. He
was speechless and teary eyed. He said he couldn’t get rid of the goosebumps
because of the history, and the beauty he was looking at. Remembering how
joyful he was at seeing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a baseball
stadium, makes me overjoyed to think of the feelings he had when he first saw
heaven on Wednesday morning. What a privilege to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>show him around Yankee Stadium that day, and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one day he will get to show me around heaven. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">His Humor: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My brother once told me, “ Dad
is the funniest guy Ive ever met.”It caught me off guard because I never
thought of him as THAT funny. But the more I think about it now and talk to
people, I would have to agree with Justin. His humor was often just a one
liner, sometimes it would make you laugh and cringe at the same time at how off
color it was. It was often on his analysis of something he just observed or
went through. He often struggled not be funny or sarcastic, even when he
shouldn’t be. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">We used to hang out with the Oliverio’s a lot and my dad used to
always greet little kids from church by smiling and saying “ HEE-HEE”….All the
Oliverio children knew my dad was the “HEE-HEE”guy..I remember one year he
played Santa Clause for our church Christmas party. Little Sammy Oliviero,
probably six years old, sat on his lap and instead of asking him what he wanted
for Christmas, “Santa” said “ HEE-HEE Sammy!!” Sammy jumped off Santa’s lap and
ran away half laughing and half crying. Dad just couldn’t resist sometimes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Acts of Service:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">The book the five love
languages by Gary Chapman talks about how everyone shows love in
different ways. The way my dad most showed love is by acts of service. Every
single time I called him for a favor or with a problem, he would happily offer
his help. He wasn’t always able to express his love with the proper words, but
to him picking you up from the doctors, changing your oil, or driving you
hours away to drop you off somewhere just to make sure you were safe were his
nichiest ways of showing his kids that they were loved richly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">His generosity
was second to none. If dad was within 500 feet of you when a payment was due,
your wallet was not allowed out of your pocket. At restaurants he would always
pay, and when I told him I feel bad hes paying again and it was my turn, he would
pacify me by saying “Just leave the tip, Joe- I've got the rest”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">The Elephant in The Room:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">The elephant in the room
right now is that most of you know that my dad and I struggled relationally at
many times during my childhood and adulthood, especially the last few years of
his life.. There were times that we exchanged words that I cant repeat in
church. Heck, I couldn’t repeat them within 100 miles of a church.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">We went a
year without speaking from May of 2012 to June of 2013, and then another 3
months from April of 14 to July of 14. His wife Kathy told me that she told him
he was sometimes a lion and sometimes a lamb- and she would sometimes tell him, "Honey, I need more lamb and less Lion right now.”I felt like I had
gotten the lion so many times, and that it would never change. I even told family
members that I didn’t see a way that things could ever be fixed. But my
prayers remained different from what my sensibility was telling me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">I woke up
many a night in a panic or a cold sweat, worried that that would be the day he
might die and I'd never have peace with him on this earth. And then in
July<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God revealed a plan that he had had
in motion since the beginning of time. My dad came to me with humility,
empathy, and sorrow. With a sincerity that my flesh so often told me was
surely not possible, he told me he was so sorry for all that had happened. I was
hesitant, but hopeful, and in the coming months we started talking more and
more- And he was markedly different. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">He finally understood who God truly was, and I think
he finally grasped how much Jesus loved him, no matter what had happened and
no matter what would happen. His words were soft, his intent single-minded-- to
love on his children with the days he had left as a father without any chains
or motives other than to love.. I had always known he loved me, but in the last
6 months God did a work in him that allowed him to not only express it with
acts of service, but with all of his being. The Lion was now The Lamb..</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">On December 14<sup>th</sup>,
Dad found out he had stage 4 Lung Cancer. I was always a little worried once
things started getting so good, that this may have been a sign of the end, Gods
Final Gift to Rocky and to us. He told me he just wanted to make it through
Christmas and he would be happy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">My dad loved to drive. He
knew every highway, byway, side street, dead end road, and shortcut in the
Greater Rochester Area..He had taxi roots, and he was the original GPS before
their were GPS’s. On Christmas Eve , Missy and I were coming in to see him for
a few hours. Due to no fault of Ashley's, she had only seen Dad once in the 15 months prior to that day. We were going to pick her up and bring her
over to Dad and Kathy’s. At the last minute my moms computer died, and we
bought her one on Craigslist for Christmas, which meant I had to meet up with the
seller in Syracuse. I told Ashley I'm sorry but I wouldn’t have time because of this to
pick her up and make it on time, but could we meet closer to dads house, and
she said she would just drive over herself.. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">When Dad got wind of this he offered to
pick her up and Ashley said okay and asked if he would like to see her house,
because he hadn’t seen it yet. So on Christmas Eve, my dad drove from
Irondequiot to Hilton to be with his daughter. Ashley showed him around
her house as he cried, and then dad drove his beloved daughter back to his
house to celebrate Christmas eve with her. It was the last ride he ever went for. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">On Christmas Day, I was back
in Syracuse. He
texted me, “Good morning my God sent son. Merry Christmas 2 u and your beautiful
wife. Rejoice in Jesus . What a day. Best Christmas in years. Thank you and
Missy for making it a reality. We love you guys.” That text exemplified the
full healing that had taken place in him. Even though his
body was betraying him and beginning to shut down, his heart and soul were
stronger than ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">On the Saturday night after Christmas, we
reconvened to go to dinner. Dad predicted to his step-son (and unbeknownst to us) that he would make
it through the dinner , and then end up in the hospital. He had a heart attack
the day after, spent 4 days in the hospital, went home for a week, and went to
the hospital for the final time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">On Tuesday morning, Dad told Kathy that he was
going to die that day, and to call the kids to get there as soon as they
can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent the day with him , as
special people to him stopped by to say goodbye. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Around 4pm, he had little
left in him. He said it was time to go, and asked God to take him. I told him
Justin was flying in as fast as he could from Indiana and he would be here in a few
minutes, and he needed to wait. He agreed. I was lying to him, as Justin
wouldn’t be able to get there for another 8 hours. If he had known he would
have called me a “lawyer”. (that’s the way he pronounced “Liar”). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">As his body
overwhelmed him over the next 8 hours, and he was ready to die, he kept saying I'm
ready to be with God now and we all
just kept telling him," a few more minutes and Justin will be here." We must have
said a few more minutes a dozen times in that eight hours. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Justin arrived and got
time with dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Justin played a video of his
granddaughter Frances
singing a special song for him, and everyone left around 130am to get a few hours of sleep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stayed behind and when I stepped out to get
a cup of coffee, I came back to find he had passed. “ I just want to have my
kids together in one place before I die” , he had told me days after his
diagnosis. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad waited all day to see his
family and a few friends, and when his final child had arrived and left, dad had been granted his final wish- and then he passed away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Right before he died, after I
left everyone in the parking garage, I started singing out loud "MY WAY" by Frank
Sinatra. Dad loved Sinatra and loved that song. When he passed I looked out the
window and said “ I know he is with you Lord, but how bout a sign for old times
sake” (God has shown me so many signs and wonders through the years)..When I
called Ashley, Nick and Missy back once he had passed, they got upstairs and
told me that the Piano that played on its own in the lobby of the hospital was playing
“My Way “ as they walked by it. Later, Justin, who hadn’t known I had been
singing it or the other guys had heard it coming in, told me “ Hey , You're
going to think this is cool, at the airport when I got in tonight, "My Way" was
playing over the loud speaker”…. THE SIGN!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">If you told me the story of
my father and me would turn into one of my greatest life testimonies to show
the reality of Gods existence and his love, I would have told you you were
insane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, eternity is all that
will matter. As morbid as it sounds,you will one day be gone from this earth, and no one will be left
who knew you..Then what??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">We are saved
by Grace, through Faith. Simple and no strings attached. Our rights and wrongs are not what count in the end,
all Gods asks of you is faith in his son, Jesus. Even if you're not sure
at first just by looking to your left or your right and seeing his works in the beauty that surrounds us, he will show himself real
inside of your heart when you begin to seek him. Dad sought him in the
end, really let him into his heart, and no matter what mistakes he made along
the way, today he is made new...... He is made whole. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>“<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">I've loved, I've laughed and cried<br />
I've had my fill, my share of losing<br />
And now as tears subside<br />
I find it all so amusing</span></div>
<div class="verse">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">To think I did all that<br />
And may I say not in a shy way<br />
Oh no, oh no, not me<br />
I did it my way”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Rocco Joseph DiBella, always did
things his way. Sometimes it was a beautiful thing, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sometimes it got him into trouble.</span> But in the end, 'My Way' to my dad started meaning 'God's Way', and God orchestrated the last
months of dad’s life in a way that could only be accredited to HIS way----- his
perfect way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
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<td style="padding: 0in 0in 0in 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">“He will wipe every tear
from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain,
for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelations 21:4</span></div>
</td>
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</div>
joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-8442610481967101332013-09-11T20:25:00.001-07:002014-05-16T18:11:37.473-07:00Where I Am<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<h3>
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 : <span class="text2cor-4-16">Therefore we do not lose
heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed
day by day.</span> <span class="text2cor-4-17"><sup>17 </sup>For our light
and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs
them all.</span> <span class="text2cor-4-18"><sup>18 </sup>So we fix our
eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is
temporary, but what is unseen is eternal</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am going to be utterly honest to start and I hope this
doesn’t come across as ‘woe is me’ or a pity party, but here goes. It is hard
to imagine what has happened to my body in the last 16 years. I just don’t get
how it has managed to almost completely turn on me. Most of you know about the
catastrophic digestive condition which has led me to intestinal surgery and
possible permanent shut-down of my digestive system this Wednesday at the
Cleveland Clinic. The surgery is to repair basically a poor performance by my
surgeon in Rochester
in 2002. What a lot of you don’t know is since I got diagnosed with colitis in
1997, my eyes, ears, lungs, voice, and nerves have also been significantly damaged
and have YET(soon) to be repaired. Just recently, I have found myself unable to
wear shoes without the bottom of my feet feeling like they have razor blades
across the length and width of them due to new nerve damage from a med I took.
I live with these reminders of my body’s shortcomings every minute of every
day, as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write about all that for a couple of reasons. I have
sugarcoated a lot of what I go through because I don’t like to complain and
don’t want pity, but for this blog it’s essential to be honest with you, my
friends, about the reality of the suffering that has bestowed me to this point.
And the reason I need you to realize the reality of it, is to realize the
source of my day to day hope and ability to live a general life of joy and
peace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also wanted to touch on the fact we are so often quick to
feel like we have to be tough and gritty in front of people when inside we are
plagued. The truth of the matter is on our own we are all weak and plagued. We
are all dying- and there are no exceptions. I suppose a lot of people’s main
goal is to live and die as comfortably as possible, while suffering as little
as possible. That certainly is still my hope for myself in all actuality-but the
end of this body and this life will come the same way for every human being who
has ever walked the face of this earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If everything I wrote above sounds morbid, let me explain on
the contrary. With the difficulties I have encountered I have gone from feeling
cursed because of them to feeling blessed in spite of them; all the while being
insatiably hungry to use them to help people who don’t know Jesus to eventually
know Jesus. If I suffer for sufferings sake, I served no more purpose for the
eternal kingdom of heaven than had I actually lived healthy for healthy’s sake.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">What I could/should
be:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-Depressed at my physical situation at such a
young age.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-Bitter at the surgeon who built my system
wrong in 2002 , causing 11 years of problems and causing me to have to have the
same difficult surgery again this Wednesday.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Bitter at God for
my situation (Which I was for many years).</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Still at a poker table,
drowning my conditional sorrows in temporary escape.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">What I am:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">-My quality of life
health wise right now on a scale of 1-10 can best be defined as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Grace.</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Hopeful that all
these problems will be cured and healed, just like I was cured and healed of
Crohn’s Disease in 2011.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Crohn’s free</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Married to a person
who epitomizes God’s love for me. The only person who I would ever want to walk
with me through these circumstances on a daily basis, and a person who was made
and molded to handle the difficulties of all of this with such <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>unwavering diligence. If you know her, you
know this to be true: To know her is to love her. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- PROMISED that even if these afflictions
continue in this world, that one day I will have every aspect of my health back.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- While maybe not by
earthly definition, blessed in every way.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">What I want to come
of all of this:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">-The one’s I love
most who don’t know the truth of The Bible and the absolute guaranteed
salvation that is found in giving your life to Jesus Christ, to somehow accept
him into their hearts through my story.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember saying to God years ago when I finally
surrendered it all to him, that if just one person benefits from my story than
I can accept the scenario my physical body is in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I have seen that already so I can’t go
back to feeling cursed now; or ever again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last year on our wedding day, I had 6 full hours of
digestive relief and pain-free living. From the time I got sick in October 1997
until today, August 17<sup>th</sup> 2013, I have never had that amount of
consecutive relief. My previous record was about 4 hours, and my norm these
days is about 30 minutes. That is obviously not a coincidence, but a definitive
mercy from above. I don’t think that God gave me these afflictions- I think
they are just a bi-product of a very imperfect world; but through my
afflictions he has given me stories to convey that would have anyone who has
heard them left with only the option-to either find me to be a liar who is
making up one crazy coincidence or contrived story after another, or to find
what I’m saying about God to be true.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bottom line- I just want to influence people towards Jesus.
And if I have to deal with 24 hour a day ailments of my most vital of organs to
do that, who am I to demand complete health and normalcy? I’d love health and
normalcy, but not if I were to lose focus of what’s eternally important because
of it. There is no two ways about it, we are all going to spend eternity
somewhere other than this earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thing with faith
is you don’t have to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sure</i> God is
real to believe-but once you do believe I assure you God <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>show himself to be real. To give my take on a play off of a
C.S Lewis thought, think of this: If we waited for absolute proof that things
will bring us good before we elected to participate in them, we would die from
a lack of sleep. See you can never know sleep is real and good until you
partake in it. And even once you partake in it; it is not something you can
tangibly prove is real because you never really see it. You just know it
happened. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter who tells you about
it, or preaches of its legitimacy, sleep can only be grasped once you attempt
to get to know it. But so often unfortunately, when people talk of a God that
they have experienced and seen to be true, people who haven’t seen it doubt it
and cast it off without every looking into its credibility. How frustrating
would it be if someone told you that you never slept because you can’t prove
that it’s really sleeping you are doing? We never thought about doubting sleep
before exploring its benefits, and that only brings us 8 hours of goodness and refreshment…But
we quickly doubt the God of the Bible when the upside to him existing is much,
much more than 8 hours of goodness and refreshment. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We live in a world where no individual thing can be put in
front of our eyes without believing it was produced by an entity. If I put a
couch in front of you and tried to convince you there wasn’t a grand designer
of it, you would call me insane. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that
being the case, we are unwilling to except any one thing can just appear
without origin, except for the world which holds everything? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently heard a story on the radio about a pastor who was
trying to convince a non-believer of what he knew to be true of Jesus Christ.
The non-believer had a refutation for each and every point the pastor tried to make
and the pastor finally broke down in tears and said “Listen, I didn’t bring
this up to start a back and forth argument or try to make you feel bad, I just
so badly want you to know the God I know and the truth I know, because I love
you and care about you.” Dejected, the pastor went home and the unbelieving man
showed up at his door later that day. The pastor asked why he was there, and
the man said he wanted to give his life to Jesus. The pastor looked at him quizzically,
and said, “How did this happen? You had a counterpoint to every point I tried
to make.” “I did have a counterpoint to everything you said”, the man said, “except
when you tearfully told me you loved me and cared about me. I had no counter
for that. I knew right then your belief in Jesus was genuine and legit.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Listen, I write this because in a hundred years all that
will matter is where we are, not where we are now, or where we have been. The
Bible says that no one can enter the kingdom of heaven unless he has asked
Jesus to live in his heart as his personal savior. Christians are not being
judgmental or accusatory when telling people the essentiality of acceptance of
Jesus- they are simply repeating the words Jesus himself spoke in a recorded
book of history. The beauty of that is that it just takes belief and doesn’t
require jumping through any hoops. In studying the history of world religions
for my college class, I found that the only religion that has a God who lives,
and a deity subject of a human on earth who never died was Bible believing
Christianity. It is also the only faith that boasts of a salvation that
requires only belief and acceptance in God, and not salvation through doing or
being “good” or meeting a certain amount of self-action requirements. Who could
every be truly “good” enough to satisfy a perfect God? Who would even want to
try?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God has given us the ultimate gift; the ability to live in
an imperfect place for a little while and experience good, bad, and everything
in between- but with it the option (think about that, we have an option- which
doubles as a duty to ourselves and the people whose lives we will touch with
our legacy- which triples as the most logical life insurance policy one could
ever sign up for) to go to a perfect place for all of time as the culmination of
our imperfect journey. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I like to write. I believe it’s my best way of communicating
my life’s stories.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write because I have seen the goodness of the Lord, even
amongst and probably most amongst the harshness of my physical difficulties.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write because on Wednesday I will walk into a hospital in
Cleveland, Ohio, trust a Christian surgeon named “Church”, whom I found through
the lead singer of a Christian band who shares my same storing of being healed
of an incurable disease, and I will voluntarily subject myself to an arduous
surgery that I was only supposed to have to have once.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write because I am excited and overjoyed with where he is
taking me on this earth. If he is for me, nothing can be against me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I write because I can’t
wait to wake up Wednesday after surgery and see my wife, and start our new life
together; one which will allow me more time with her and less time with my
bidet. =)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I write because I am not Benjamin Button , and neither are
you. I understand better than most what its like to feel hopeless, and what its
like to subsequently find the utmost hope.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And to steal a line from the pastor from the story above, I
write because I just so badly want you to know the God that I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">know</b> and the truth that I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">know</b>, because I love you and care about
your eternal future.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Here is a good
article on what it is to become a Christian. It’s not a prayer ritual, but a
simple belief. We are saved by Grace through Faith. Nothing more, nothing less.
Good day, friends and family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.gotquestions.org/prayer-of-salvation.html">http://www.gotquestions.org/prayer-of-salvation.html</a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Addendum: As most of you know <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>my surgery was good overall, with some pretty concerning complications( for 10 days),
but I sit here today 3 weeks later doing really well. I am getting about 3 to 5
hours of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>time in between using the
bathroom, a far cry from my 30 to 45 minutes before the surgery.(and it will
only get better). Somehow, some way (God), my breathing problems seem to be
better since surgery and I have barely touched my Advair. Also, I had serious
nerve issues in my nose and feet and I can tell you that my nose has barely
itched or tingled since surgery and my feet have been really good too. I am
still believing total healing there, but what a miracle to be feeling this much
better in so many ways just 3 weeks after the surgery. I truly believe my whole
body was being affected by my mangled and disturbed intestinal situation. I’m
so lucky and blessed to have found someone to fix it. Thanks for reading
everyone. </div>
joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-18033023408144424472013-05-21T15:46:00.002-07:002013-05-21T18:05:24.747-07:00'Key'note Geeker - A Blog About My Smidgens of O.C.D. and the Joys They Bring My WifeMy wife Melissa just recently bought a decoratory key chain holder for our keys. It has pretty flowers on it and it pretty much poo-poo's the notion that I as a male even live here. "So what! It's just a key holder," you say. "Whats your point weird-o?" Well, this key chain holder puts to bed an issue Missy and I have had since we got married. Where the heck to set our keys??? Well, in actuality the real issue has been less her and our keys, and more where I want her to set her keys. Now that I mention it even further, the whole issue was just me being really annoying and silly.. Let me explain...<br />
<br />
When I come home I set my keys in the same place every time. You see I have just a smattering of obsessive compulsive tendencies. For example, when watching a sporting event I almost always have to have a baseball in my hands. I have held some sort of ball or puck in my hands during important sporting events ever since I was about 10 years old. I toss it when nervous, I squeeze it when something good happens, or I throw it into the couch cushions as hard as I can when the national semifinal ends with the ball in Trevor Cooney's unpolished hands. I'm going on 23 years of this habit and I don't see it ending anytime soon, much to my wife's chagrin- especially when she thinks I'm coming in for a kiss but am actually reaching around her to grab my baseball out of the couch cushion. There are a few others that can be discussed at another time, but just know that I have a smattering of habitual tendencies that could (or undoubtedly are) considered weird.<br />
<br />
So when I come home I set my keys straight ahead on Missy's Grandpas antique table which sits in what I consider the foyer of our apartment-although an imaginary foyer at that. It is important to me that the keys do not lay rest in a room or in an area designated for "living." They must go in the foyer!(imaginary foyer) Missy does not agree. When she comes in she will set her keys to her immediate left, on an end table in what I consider to the be living room. I HATE them there. She can put anything else on that table-a camera, a mug, nail polish, even a list of tedious and gut wrenching chores for me to do and I am fine. But the keys? Nope.I just can't do it.<br />
<br />
So for the 10 months we have been married, I will either come home and see the keys there in her special spot and move them to my own happy place, or we come home together and I intercept the keys and put them in my mindsets peaceful nook. I then dutifully and all so kindly ask her if she wouldn't mind from now on putting the keys in the imaginary foyer on the antique table, to which she even more kindly responds, "No thank you." This conversation has occurred probably 200 times in the past year. She has never once agreed to give into my smidgen of O.C.D, but to her credit she has never moved them back spitefully to her table after I put them on my table. In all this,one thing I have learned is I didn't marry a spineless woman- that's for sure.<br />
<br />
Lo and behold, Miss Missy (as the kids in Sunday School call her) finally got tired of Mr. Joe's (Sunday School name) civil key wars and bought the aforementioned key chain holder, which serenely holds both sets of keys on it as I write.We have found a happy place for the keys, and for that we are both very happy.<br />
(On a side note, I also hate having keys or anything more than whatever the weight of my current cell phone is in my pocket. They are too heavy and weigh me down. I remember a time when my dear friend Jim Carpenter disgustingly saw the size of my keyring and demanded I take keys that were not being used or hailed from an unknown origin,off my key chain. He and I spent a half hour that night picking keys off my ring. Anyways, there is a good story about not liking my keys on my person which I will share in another blog.)<br />
<br />
Finally, this morning at 545 AM I went to grab my keys to go to work and couldn't find them. I didn't see them on my table and immediately
thought I had left them in the door on the outside of our apartment,
which I have done a handful of times before. Missy usually gives me a loving speech when that happens about how an intruder could come in and steal our ice cream as we sleep. So this morning I was thinking about how I couldn't believe I had left them in the door again and quickly prayed our ice cream was still in tact in the freezer.<br />
<br />
But then I realized that the keys were not in the doorknob, but on our new key chain holder. I had an instant moment of contemplation and sorrow. I knew in that moment that now that we had a key chain holder, I would never have a chance to give my wife a break about where she puts her keys. Don't get me wrong, it was never a real debate or fight, but it was a chance to show selflessness in even the most petty of categories and I didn't do it. As mundane as it was, my wife wanted her keys one place and I always insisted they go another. It was an instant lesson as I looked at both sets of keys hanging from the wall- that the things I sometimes obsess about and deem important should never be more important than relating to and considering what's important to others.<br />
<br />
I wondered how many times I had "moved the keys" on someone else in my life and missed a chance to show them that what was important was not where the keys were, but where they were as people. We waste so much time on "things" and "stuff,"making sure there is a place to safely put those things and a way to get that stuff, all the while forgetting that they are just inanimate objects with no value.<br />
<br />
It's so easy to take people for granted and pick at things that mean nothing aside from the silly compulsions of your(my)own withering mind. But in reality, what should be easier than taking people for granted is not taking people for granted. The ones we love the most have given us the most precious keys of all-the keys to their heart. And there is no good place to set those down.<br />
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<br />joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-37693275258625203272013-05-08T16:35:00.004-07:002013-05-08T17:22:06.912-07:00Welcome Back<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It has been a year since I wrote. I
have recently felt like I should start writing again and have even more recently felt a constant
tug to do so. See, I always loved writing but what stopped me is thinking that
what I wanted to write wouldn’t come out right, or that no one would read it.
At one point I actually convinced myself not to write because I had so much to
write about, I was sure I wouldn’t write about the best thing of the bunch.
Pretty lame, huh? </div>
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I was reminded of something I wrote
a few Christmas Eve’s ago <a href="http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-silent-night.html">http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-silent-night.html</a> . I wrote about suffering and the hope that was born
from it. After I wrote it I almost didn’t post it because it sounded too dreary and overemotional (guilty on the overemotional, per usual) at points, yet went ahead and posted it anyways. One anonymous person commented
on it and thanked me and said it was written for him or her. I still don’t know
who that person was or what it meant to them. I may never know... As I begin writing again
so much has happened since the last time I wrote…</div>
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<br /></div>
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I married the closest thing to a
perfect person this earth has ever encountered. I'm sure there are a lot of husbands out there reading this that would say the same thing about their respective wives. I know there are many of you reading this
that would have a short list that looks like mine….</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Most Perfect People in the
World’s History</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>1<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">) </b>Jesus Christ (100 percent perfect) 2<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">) </b>My Wife (Somewhere just below 100
percent)……..And then we lucky ones step back and realize that that person isn’t
anywhere near perfect in reality- Just perfect for us. Which matter-of-factly points
back to the number 1 person on your list, the one who makes all good things
possible in his perfect love.</div>
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I was also blessed that in the
months before, during, and immediately after my aforementioned wedding, I had
the greatest health relief of any time in the 16 years of the devastating digestive
ailments that have plagued me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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To sum it up, I rarely if ever go more than a
waking hour without having to use the bathroom with painful urgency. Two hours
usually has me blowing a kazoo and waving a foam finger that says “I am number
2’s Daddy!” Well, wouldn't you know that during my wedding reception I went from 5pm until 11pm without so
much as a minimal urge to go to the bathroom. It had been years since feeling that relief in such duration… This
was not a coincidence at all, because I know he is a God of love and he carried me for that evening with his grace.</div>
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I have been guilty in the past of
“losing my audience” because my writings are too lengthy (See, <a href="http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/07/shame-on-you-lebron.html">http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/07/shame-on-you-lebron.html</a>
), so I will end it here…</div>
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I am a quiet guy in real life and
truth be told, it is often easier to express myself on paper than it is
audibly. That being said, I am going to start writing again regularly. My blog
is only ranked <span class="pfirstspanone">11,661,954<sup>th</sup> worldwide for
blogs (I’m not sure out of how many), and is only worth 801 dollars and 11
cents according to urlm.or, and it is imperative that we boost it into the top
10 million and a net worth of over a “G-Unit.”</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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But in all seriousness, next month
I face a monster surgery head on, one that I went through already in 2002. I
will write about that. I have a passion for people at times, but also a lack of
the necessary passion for people at other times,because I can't seem to get out of the way of my own selfish interests or my own difficult circumstances..And I will write about that. And
if you happen to die and I knew you well enough, I will probably write about
your life <a href="http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/05/flying-on-wings-of-angel-2005-2006.html">http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/05/flying-on-wings-of-angel-2005-2006.ht</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null">ml</a> (whether you like it or not). Lastly, I have a passion for heaven and
doing whatever I can to encourage people towards what I know is the way there-
Not in a judgmental way, but the opposite of that. There is nothing less
judgmental than wanting the people you know to know the truth of the paradise
that awaits all who choose God. So many Christians get labeled as judgmental for entrusting and sharing the words of The Bible and what it says about heaven's pathway, when in reality it is as judgmental as telling someone who is starving to death that it would be a good idea to get some food as soon as possible.... And you better believe I am going to write
about that. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because even if I’m the only one reading what
I write blog after blog, month after month, I never know when that “anonymous” Christmas Eve
reader is going to need to read something I write again. And for that reason
alone, this is why I must write.</div>
joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-21837448481070378202012-04-16T13:15:00.008-07:002012-04-16T16:12:11.744-07:00'I'm Taking My Talents To Cleveland'I have wanted to write this blog for about a year and two months, but even when I received the good news then that the doctor’s all of a sudden couldn’t find Crohn’s Disease in my body, I wasn’t offered a sufficient remedy to the suffering I was going through. I guess I didn’t felt led to write, because sure it was great that my digestion was disease free, but no one could explain why I was still going to the bathroom every half an hour. <br />
<br />
I don’t want to get too into the difficulties of my physical life the last 15 years. The people who have seen it and understand it the most are my mother and now my angel of a fiancé. Most others just know the basics- that I go to the bathroom a lot. I guess I would best describe it as a non functioning digestive system and a chronic stomach bug.<br />
<br />
But this is an article about hope. I have hope in recovering from this ailed digestion. My hope comes from Jesus, who in his time has provided me a route and a way to get better. I face major surgery but I face it with the hope that the rest of my life is ahead of me. And the rest of my life is going to be good. I know this for sure.<br />
<br />
I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis in 1997 and in 2002 I had my Large Intestine removed. The thing is I never got better after the surgeries like they told me I would. They later diagnosed me with Crohn’s Disease, a catastrophic diagnosis for a delicately rebuilt system. Medically I had the worst digestive condition and disease you could have. <br />
<br />
About 2 years ago when I quit gambling I started to believe I was going to be healed and cure of this disease. Many people told me they believed it too. Mary Lou Reilly, one of the most spiritually in tune people I know, felt like God told her to tell me that he has already began healing me. In the midst of the storm I started to proclaim I was healed, as it is biblical to speak what is not yet as though it is. <br />
<br />
The night before I went in for a colonoscopy last February, I was praying alone in my apartment when I felt God’s presence more than I have ever felt before. I felt him telling me that “tomorrow is the day, the day I have promised you, the day of your healing.”<br />
<br />
<br />
I was overwhelmed in that moment and told Melissa that the doctor’s were going to look in tomorrow and find that there is no sign of Crohn’s disease. Mind you this made no sense because for 5 years I had been told unequivocally that it was Crohn’s by more than one doctor. Also, I was very sick that night- sicker than usual- thus why I was going into the doctor the next day. <br />
<br />
But I just knew I was healed. I told the doctor before he looked in that he wouldn’t find any disease. When I woke up he asked me who told me I had Crohn’s. I told him a few different doctors had. He said he doesn’t understand the diagnosis because he doesn’t see any sign of it. I was not surprised because God had given me the peace the night before of knowing his promise was coming true that next day. I can’t explain it in words fully. It was just an amazing experience.<br />
<br />
The problem however was that I was still not offered what I thought was a proper solution to why I was going to the bathroom every half hour or so. He told me it was scar tissue, and gave me a silver bullet dilator I was supposed to use to self medicate on a daily basis (It’s exactly what you think it is). I chose not to go this route. (No pun intended)<br />
<br />
Another doctor later confirmed he didn’t see Crohn’s either, and wanted to blast some scar tissue and I had surgery for this in December. I only felt worse after. At this point I felt like God was making it clear that it was not disease or scarring. That the system was not built correctly and I needed to have it revamped.<br />
<br />
So in January, feeling awful but knowing I was healed and cured of disease, I googled “Crohn’s testimony miracles.” I knew that there must have been other stories like mine and that I was not the first one God cured the incurable for. What came up was a link to a you tube video (short version: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VEwTdOFEmA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VEwTdOFEmA</a> long version: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aanBqxzNLqg&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aanBqxzNLqg&feature=related</a>) with the lead singer of a Christian band called “Sonic Flood” speaking about his healing from Crohn’s. His name is Rick Heil. <br />
<br />
His story was almost identical to mine. He got sick as a teen, had multiple surgeries, was clinically depressed, and was at the end the rope both mentally and physically when he decided to just trust Jesus no matter what happened.<br />
<br />
He was suggested to go to Dr. Church at the Cleveland Clinic in Cleveland Ohio. He said he felt comfort in his last name. He found out Dr. Church was a Christian and he did a surgery on him. Later Dr. Church looked in and couldn’t find any sign of Crohn’s Disease. <br />
<br />
When I watched this video I knew it was for me, and Dr. Church in Cleveland was where I was supposed to be. Over the last few months I have fought my HMO to approve my visit and they denied me, saying I could try some more doctors’ in New York. I was initially frustrated but I had made an appointment just in case I was approved. 4 days before my appointment I found out I was denied coverage.<br />
<br />
I was going to call to cancel because I thought the visit would be too expensive to pay out of pocket.I felt God telling me to keep the appointment. It turns out that once I got there I found it was more affordable then I thought. <br />
<br />
On Wednesday night, 2 days before the visit with Dr. Church, I was not feeling well and had a moment of being overwhelmed. I was driving home from Syracuse and asked God to please help me through the night. The moment I asked him for help I looked up and passed "Church Street."- Confirmation of what is to come. <br />
<br />
This past Friday Melissa and I headed to Cleveland with faith that God was going to orchestrate the whole day to his will and to my benefit. It turns out her faith was stronger than mine… A wrinkle was thrown into the day when I immediately was extra sick when we left. I wanted to turn around and cancel because I knew it was going to be a long tough ride feeling the way I did. But my diligent, selectively and aggressively directive fiancé told me that we were not turning around. She knew it was a spiritual battle that had to be won. <br />
<br />
So we pressed on and went. It was a tough ride, having to stop every few minutes along the way. But here’s the thing-because I felt so sick I didn’t want to eat, and not eating would benefit me enormously later that day. <br />
<br />
When we got there we waited 2 and half hours to see Dr. Church. When he walked in you could feel his humble nature immediately, and when he spoke it was only verified with his soft spoken New Zealand accent. I told him how I found him and that I was also a born again Christian.<br />
<br />
I told him my situation and he listened intently. I told him I wouldn't be able to afford any surgery until after I get married and on my fiance's insurance in July. He decided to look in with a scope to see what was going on in my system. He did it without sedation, something that always has hurt me incredibly in the past. Somehow this time I didn't feel a thing.<br />
<br />
It didn’t hurt at all. Missy and I had both prayed separately that it wouldn’t hurt and God answered that prayer. I had gone not planning on having a scope but prayed it would be an option. The x factor in all this was that I didn’t eat all day so he was able to see my intestine clearly. <br />
<br />
His first words afterwards were “it is recoverable.” He explained that the pouch was built poorly. He said there is a twist that had developed up near where the small intestine meets the J-pouch, causing a narrowing of the junction, which is causing me all these problems. He also explained that the stem of the J did not stand up well, and that it just jutted out instead of folded up. He told me that the best bet is to go in and re-work the system in a major surgery.<br />
<br />
After 10 years of searching and about 10 doctor’s, I had finally gotten an answer and a solution in just 10 minutes with Dr. Church.<br />
<br />
He said that “You, I, and God are going to see that this gets fixed.” He also said, “You are going to be well again.” Both lines made me teary eyed on the spot. <br />
<br />
I knew I was in the right place before I even saw this mans face. God told me and had set it up for me. But after speaking with him I knew that my life was never going to be the same. God had led me to a place and a surgeon that not only had a clue, but he also had rooted his clue in Jesus Christ. You could just tell in his voice that he knew, much like the situation with Rich Heil coming to him, that this was a divine meeting.<br />
<br />
Non- Believers in Jesus might think that this is just another coincidence in my long line of crazy coincidences that I have written about in various blogs.However I know that once again I have been bestowed with the grace of the Lord. <br />
<br />
So what awaits me is probable major surgery(I am thinking August 24th,revolved around a Yankee's visit to Cleveland, to make my families trip more favorable), but I am excited because I know I am at the exact place God wants me to be at. In the meantime I rejoice in knowing this particular suffering is closer to the end of its shelf life than it has ever been. I stand amazed at Jesus’ love for me, as well as his distinct realness.<br />
<br />
The bible says to rejoice in your suffering because Christ has suffered first and it is good to be like Jesus. It also says that out of suffering will come perseverance and then character and then hope- and that hope never fails. I wouldn’t be surprised if the name of the nurse doing my surgery is indeed ‘Hope.’<br />
<br />
I am thankful for this 2 year journey-first freed of gambling and then disease and also being given the gift of the greatest wife I could have ever asked for. <br />
<br />
What’s really interesting is that I couldn’t have done this surgery until we got married because my insurance won’t cover it and hers will. Even if I had discovered Dr. Church earlier I wouldn’t have been able to pay for him. God’s timing is perfect. His grace is enough. His peace passes my understanding.<br />
<br />
I write because I want to glorify God. I want non-Christians to understand that this is not religion I am experiencing-religion poisons and dictates a God who comes across as lifeless, dictating, and mundane. Religion has no living God, only figureheads who were human, died, and stayed dead. <br />
<br />
But God is life. My blogs tell of a God who shows me he loves me so loudly and supernaturally, that I am either a chronic liar or Jesus is Lord. I hope this latest story helps confirm the realness of the need for Jesus in your lives. He is only a prayer away at all times. <a href="http://www.salvationprayer.info/prayer.html">http://www.salvationprayer.info/prayer.html</a>. He wants to know you and he wants to spend forever with you. It is your choice. No HMO or disease can separate you from him, and no person or thing on this earth can replace him. <br />
<br />
I am elated that my suffering has led me to this hope I have. But I would much rather my suffering result in new hope for someone who hasn’t accepted Jesus as their God. And if doubt starts to creep into your head about all this-about who God is; or even if God is..... Just remember my new surgeon’s name... And believe.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-23039002950973370832012-01-21T06:39:00.000-08:002012-01-24T10:13:56.035-08:00A Letter to the Four Walls of my Church<b>A Letter to the Four Walls of my Church<br />
<br />
By Joe DiBella<br />
</b><br />
<br />
1-21-12:<br />
<br />
Hello,<br />
<br />
I am writing to let you know what you have meant to me and how deeply you have affected me over the past 25 years of our relationship. Although we have had our ups and downs over the years I realize you have always been a constant in my life, and the fluctuations in our relationship have been solely my responsibility. I wanted to write to you to sequentially thank you and point out all the nuances that I so greatly appreciate about yours and my relationship.<br />
<br />
<b> 1986</b><br />
<br />
We first met in 1986 in Bushnell’s Basin at Vacation Bible School. I was only 7 years old and don’t remember too many specifics. You know how when you're young like that you normally only have a few freeze-frame memories? Think about how many days of your childhood were spent without a single elongated memory;the only things etched from the first 10 years being a handful of freeze-frames.<br />
<br />
My earliest freeze-frame of you was seeing a young boy in a cast who had been in a very serious car accident. I don’t remember how many casts he had on but at the very least I remember one covering his arm. I remember the concern for him and for his mother who was also involved, and was fighting for her life.<br />
<br />
Now 25 years later I play softball with that young boy on a team you sponsor. And the woman who was fighting for her life will be at my wedding in July. The young man throws like a girl now and I wonder if that’s because his arm never properly healed from the accident. But that’s another story for another time(just kidding). Anyways, I want to thank you for introducing me to them……<br />
<b><br />
1989</b><br />
<br />
<br />
In 1989, you introduced me to a young kid who was about my age. At first he and I did not hit it off. Frankly, I don’t think he liked me. He was too caught up in solidifying his spot in the gang of 9 year old “cool” kids. But time after time you kept setting us up to talk and engage.<br />
<br />
At some point I started whispering really funny things into his ear that he would repeat to the group that always would make them laugh. I was too timid to blurt out my jokes,and he of course would inaccurately get full credit for the laughs.(To his credit he was funny on his own also.)I think he liked me because he was able to capitalize on my shyness, and in turn seemed funnier to everyone than he actually was. We struck up a friendship and he blossomed into my best friend. Because of my relationship with him I chose to go to the same high school as him, where I met so many of my dearest friends and had so many of my fondest memories.<br />
<br />
I ended up coaching basketball at the school after I graduated and had more irreplaceable memories with the kids I got to coach. I shudder to think of the good times I would have never known about without that high school, and it is all thanks to you setting me up with my best friend when I was 9. This July he will be one of the best men in my wedding.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b> 1990</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I was 10 years old and this was the year that my dad wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t able to do all the things he wanted with me. I remember you introduced me to a man who took me out go-carting and to the monster truck show. He called himself my “big brother”, which was the namesake of the outreach program he had volunteered for. “Big Brother” was an understatement, as he could stow my 90 pound body away behind one of his leg calve muscles if he needed to hide me.<br />
<br />
He even invited me over to watch the Bills and Giants play in the Superbowl. I was the only Giants fan amongst a sea of Bills fans. He was the biggest Bills fan I knew. He didn’t even mind when I ran around his house at 10pm screaming joyous exhortations after the Giants won. I’m so glad my dad got better and I was able to indulge in so many of those activities with him after all,but I will never forget this man’s kindness to me in such a difficult time of my childhood. I am happy to say that I now tower over him in stature. While he isn’t my “big brother” anymore, he will always be my brother.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1991</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I will always remember how much you looked out for my mother. You introduced her to so many mentors and friends along the way to help her in her walk with Christ. I remember one night when I was 11 years old our car battery was stolen from your parking lot during a meeting. (I remember we worried about stuff like this happening when you told us you were moving from Suburban Bushnell’s Basin where jaywalking was its most serious crime, to a troubled part of the inner-city in which murders sometimes occurred)<br />
<br />
My mom and siblings and I were frazzled by the stealing of our battery and you sent someone to help us get home and make sure we were okay. Although I am not certain I am willing to bet you even bought us a new battery.<br />
<br />
We were a little concerned at first that we were not safe going to your place anymore, but we remembered what you told us when you left the suburbs; that God is with us wherever we go; and that we are called to reach the ‘least of these’, and that included the poor and the needy; and that he will protect us.<br />
<br />
You were right because 20 years later I think a stolen battery is the worst thing that has ever happened in your parking lot. So for the peace and tranquility you have brought my mother in so many situations, on top of the one mentioned above, I am eternally grateful to you. And for all the people you sent her way to befriend her, I want to thank you for introducing her to them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br />
1994 – What Seemed Like Forever</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Ah, but times were not always so peachy keen were they? These were the years that I can not even keep track of the amount of times I loathed you. Yes, the teenage years. It was my formative years and I didn’t really want to deal with the hassle you sometimes presented with your existence. Sure I appreciated you for the Friday nights where you would provide Fizz soda, Pudgie’s Pizza, laughs, and most especially, flirting time with the young ladies. But other than that I didn’t really enjoy a lot you had to offer.<br />
<br />
You always seemed to be waking me up way too early on weekends. And did you really have to start those meetings at 930am and have them carry on so often past the 1pm kick-off during football season? That just seemed like a bit much to me. And boy, did you send a bunch of unwanted ‘over-friendly Freddy’s and Franny's’ my way.<br />
<br />
Everyone was always up in my face trying to hug me or ask how school was or find out how my acne treatment was coming along. And did I really need a kazoo?? I was 16 years old for crying out loud. Why did you always send over the kazoo lady??? The annoyances of being around you never seemed to end.<br />
<br />
It just seemed like you were trying to get under my skin. This went on for what seemed like a lifetime and then something changed in me. All along it was my spirit and attitude that was causing me annoyance, not the people you put around me. Looking back I realize that those people cared about me because I meant so much to you. They thought of anyone who came to see you as their own family member, and showed interest in them as such. So I want to thank you for introducing me to them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b> 1997-2002</b><br />
<br />
Right about when I started to reach my social comfort zone in life, I got very sick with a pooping disease. Oh,the irony! I was plagued with the most serious of digestive diseases, which hampered me in almost every aspect of life. There were nights I didn’t think I wanted to go on and nights I thought I wanted to go on but really thought my body was about to shut down and succumb.<br />
<br />
But what I remember most about these years that felt so dark and lonely were that you always made sure I was taken care of. On my worst nights, you sent over some of your leaders to lay hands on me and pray for me. The phone calls to check up on my family and I were plentiful. Whenever I was well enough to attend your services, I was overwhelmed (in a good way) by the outpouring of interest in my condition. When I had surgery to remove my intestines, the first person who visited me when I awoke was your pastor. <br />
<br />
Looking back, I can honestly say that besides my family, the thing that got me through those years of insufferable illness were you and the people who you sent my way. So I want to thank you for introducing me to them.<br />
<br />
<b><br />
2002-2009</b><br />
<br />
Okay, okay…I am ashamed to say that I went through another period where I wasn’t the biggest fan of yours. I can't blame youthful rebellion on this one. It was more adult rebellion I suppose. <br />
<br />
See, you represented so much of the good that I wanted to see in myself, that when I thought of you or went to see you I would get upset with you because I was so far from what I knew I should be. Does that make sense? I don’t know why we run from good things. It’s kind of an oxymoron, isn’t it?<br />
<br />
But run I did. I ran into the arms of the wrong settings and the wrong situations. I didn’t feel worthy of you. As I depicted above, you were so good to me on so many occasions, yet I still chose to have little to do with you. Sure, I would stop by and visit once in awhile just to say I did or to please my mom, but I didn’t have any interest in connecting with you. I want to apologize for that. Again, it was me and not you. Thank you for not being offended. How come you never seem to get offended??<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br />
1991-2010: The Years You Were a Failed Matchmaker</b><br />
<br />
Yes, you spent 20 years trying to get me to fall in love with Ms. Right under your watch, and with all due respect you failed miserably. But what a funny, interesting journey you sent me on in the process. You introduced me to my first crush when I was 11 years old. I liked her for about 7 years and said about 7 words to her. You didn’t take your first failed matchmaker attempt as a sign to relent though, as you directly or indirectly tied me to a small handful of other relationships.<br />
<br />
I can’t help but laugh when I realize that the only relationship I had that wasn't in part due to your scheming was the one with my future wife. While I appreciated your efforts, I eventually came to a point where my sole prerequisite for a woman was that she didn’t know you at all! I kid of course, but I thank you for your attempts and know that the journey that you led me on in this matter led me to the very good place I am in today. So thank you for lovingly introducing me to all the wrong girls over the last 20 years.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Present Day</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Lastly, I want to thank you for your most recent meaning to me. I think we have been closer than we ever have these past few years. We have been through a lot you and I. We both changed our names over the years; me from ‘Joey’ to ‘Joe’, and you from ‘New Jerusalem’ to ‘Joy Community.’ Most importantly you were always willing to accept me no matter where I was in life or how I felt about you. Kindness was the most evident quality in you, and you displayed it glowingly.<br />
<br />
So many people perceive what you represent wrongly, because so many people have twisted who you are. There is nothing religious or ritualistic about you at the core, but because of humans transforming you on the surface your true value has so often been convoluted. I mean anyone who read what I wrote about you above would be hard-pressed to call you routine or mundane.<br />
<br />
So I must admit that it looks like I will be moving away from you in the next few months to be with my wife. I guess I won’t be seeing you as often, but I will look forward to reading your emails and such. Please do not take me off your happy birthday shout out lists or put me in parentheses in your directory (I know how you get).<br />
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But for now I am still here and want to thank you for all you have been to me. All you have been to my family;and all you have been to so many countless others. Like the God you represent, 'love' has proven to be what you set the foundation of your four walls on.<br />
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So lastly, I just want to thank you for introducing me to YOU.<strike></strike>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-2080546008081046702011-12-31T18:23:00.000-08:002012-01-01T05:22:19.994-08:00Papa Joe Prattico<b>Papa Joe Prattico</b><br />
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A dear friend of mine passed away Thursday. His name was Joe Prattico. He was 79 years old, and undoubtedly the face of my church. Everyone who loved him, and that was everyone, called him “The Pa”, or “Papa Joe.” He was like a grandfather or father to so many. He was the nicest man you would ever want to know, and that is an understatement. He loved Jesus and loved people. The following is my thoughts and memories of the man. I hope whether you knew him or not this will paint a clearer picture of who he was; and through his legacy, who he will always be.<br />
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<b>60 Years of Marriage</b><br />
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On December 27th 2011, Joseph Prattico celebrated his 60th wedding anniversary with his beloved wife, Carolyn, whom he so endearingly called “Goldie.” If you want to see a prototypical example of true love in marriage in a day and age where that notion is so frivolously disposed of so easily after the vows, look no further than Joe and Carolyn’s marriage.<br />
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That night, there was a party with his family and closest friends to celebrate. In his customary suit, (Papa Joe was the tannest, fittest, and snappiest dresser you have ever seen for a man in his 70’s.), he told his family how much he loved them. When he got home, before he had even changed out of his suit, Papa Joe fell down the stairs………<br />
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<b>“There’s No Reason to Fight”</b><br />
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When I got engaged I remember wanting get Papa Joe’s advice on marriage more than anyone else’s. The first question I asked him was, “How do you handle a fight?” He looked at me and said,” I don’t know, we have never got in a fight,” throwing his hands up deftly as he spoke. I said, “You guys haven’t fought in 60 years?” to which he quipped back, “disagreements sure, but no fights. There’s no reason to fight.” <br />
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The way Papa Joe said it was not in the slight bit elitist. He said it in a way which seemed like the norm; as if he could not fathom why you would ever “fight” with someone you loved with all your heart.<br />
<b><br />
The Only Man You Wanted Kissing Your Significant Other</b><br />
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Papa Joe’s trademark to the ladies was his kiss. He often ushered at church and was the first person you would see walking into the church halls. True to his Italian heritage, for over a quarter century Papa Joe would welcome the woman of Joy Community in with a kiss on the cheek. It was his trademark and one of the things so many ladies looked forward to upon entering the church.<br />
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A few years back I spoke with a young lady who had just began coming to our church a few months before. I asked her what brought her to our church. She said it was random; that she had just seen it driving by. Then I asked her what kept her coming back. She told me, “It was that Papa Joe guy’s kisses.”<br />
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The last time I saw him he kissed my fiancée Melissa on the cheek, then later went out of his way during service to come kiss her ring. Even before I knew it was the last time I would ever see him, I was thinking what a blessing it was to watch Papa Joe give his seal of approval and affirmation on our marriage with his trademark show of sincerity. <br />
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Facebook</b><br />
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Not many near 80 year olds could pull off joining Facebook and commenting on ‘20 something’s’ posts like Papa Joe did. Over the past few years he was evident on the social networking site with his uplifting words of encouragement, which always ended in “blessings-Papa Joe.”<br />
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I believe he was probably on the site to keep up with everyone whom he had watched grow up since they were babies. He loved every one of us like his own kin. Papa Joe and Carolyn would start every day by going through the church directory and praying for EVERY person in it. Over the years, many have come and gone through the church, but I presume Papa Joe has never stopped thinking and praying for them. I would bet that Facebook was a place where he could see the people he loved so much and speak the love of the Lord over there life. <br />
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I found it interesting that most of his writings on Facebook were in all caps. He was so softly spoken in real life and I would love to know his thinking behind the caps on Facebook. I would be willing to say it had something to do with the fact so much of his warmth was displayed through a smile or a physical touch in person, that online the only way he could get across his passion for the people’s lives in which he was typing to was by making it louder with the cap-locks on. He will certainly be missed on Facebook. He will be missed everywhere.<br />
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<b>The “Yanks”</b><br />
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I had two incidents in my life where Papa Joe and I were able to really connect beyond his wrist shaking handshakes. In 1996, I was 16 and the self proclaimed biggest Yankee’s fan in the world. Papa Joe was also the self proclaimed biggest Yankees fan in the world. We used to have Wednesday and Sunday night meetings at church then and twice a week Joe would come up to me and talk about the Yankees. “Did you see the game today? Did the Yanks play this afternoon? How about them Yanks? ” He would always call them, “The Yanks.” <br />
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That year the Yankees won the World Series for the first time since before I was born. Moments after they won, Papa Joe and Carolyn called in the way so many of you have been lucky enough to hear from them over the years; with two phones; as a tandem. We congratulated each other on the season and the championship as Mrs. Prattico also commented on how fast Joe Girardi ran and how he was super fast for a catcher.<br />
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In the last 15 years Papa Joe has talked to me about the Yanks almost every time we have spoken for any duration of time. The problem was that in the year 2000 I stopped loving the team of my childhood for various reasons. <br />
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One time in the early 2000’s, upon inquiring what I thought about the upcoming season, I told Papa Joe I didn’t like the Yankees anymore. He gave me a baffled look, paused for a moment, and said “What do you mean you don’t like the Yanks anymore?” I explained to him my lament and he seemed to loosely grasp it, although he still seemed perplexed. <br />
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As the next few years went on Papa Joe continued asking me about the Yanks when he saw me. He had refused to accept my decision to abandon them. I decided for the sake of Papa Joe’s and my ‘Yank’s’ bond, I would be a Yankee fan again whenever he brought them up. After that one time, he never heard a word of Yankee disapproval out of my mouth again. <br />
<b><br />
The 2 Hour Standing Conversation</b><br />
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In April of 2008 I had my longest talk with Papa Joe. At the Men’s retreat in Geneva we got a chance to speak one-on-one for awhile, standing in the conference room. He at 75 years and 11 months of age and me at 27 years and 8 months of age, stood there and talked for about two hours. As we stood there I remember getting tired and looking for anything to lean on, but not wanting to suggest we sit down to save my juvenescence pride.<br />
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As I was teetering back and forth well into the 2nd hour, this man stood tall and square, never wavering or looking for a chair to even lean on, no less sit on. He never took his eyes of me as I or he spoke. I had gazed at the cookies on the table behind his left shoulder at least a half a dozen times during our talk. The man was about people… the man was for people. <br />
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What I will take out of our two plus hour talk were these two things. I remember him talking more than asking questions. He rarely deferred the attention away from him getting to know you. I remember asking him question after question about himself and him gladly answering. It was refreshing to hear him converse about himself for once. He even seemed comfortable doing so.<br />
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The most striking thing he told me was thrown in so nonchalantly and unpretentiously that you would have thought he was quipping about the weather forecast. Somehow I had asked him how he started going to New Jerusalem (now Joy Community) Church. He then told me that for years he had tried to convince one of his best friends, Al Gerhardt to come to church. I said, “Years?” And he said “Yes. Al was a bit stubborn about stuff like that back then.” He said eventually he was able to convince Al to come to church.<br />
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He told me from that, a group of couples began a church out of their houses and eventually they started, New Jerusalem Church. Pastor Al Gerhardt was later Pastor of New Jerusalem Church and remained so for twenty years. <br />
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Papa Joe humbly described to me the fact that he and a few friends started this church. I remember so clearly saying to him, “Wait a minute, you are the reason we are all here???!!!!”, and Joe saying, “Well, it was the Lord really.”<br />
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I’m not sure if most of the new people in our church are aware of it or not, but Papa Joe’s relentless outpouring of his love for Jesus Christ and his desire to see his friends and loved ones come to Christ is the reason we all worship at the corner of Bay and Goodman. I shudder to think how different my life would be without that church. My best friends, my schooling, my second family, support systems, and so much of my social life, have all been spawns of Joy Community. And all along unbeknownst to me, Joe Prattico, was one of the people to thank. <br />
<b><br />
“What Would Papa Joe do?”</b><br />
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I hope this doesn’t sound sacrilegious to any of you, but a few years ago I had come to my mom with a problem and told her how I poorly handled it and she said one of the most comically profound things anyone has ever told me. Instead of giving me advice or delving into the problem, she simply said, “What would Papa Joe do?”<br />
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The funny thing is that any other name replacing Jesus in that famous catchphrase (What Would Jesus Do?) would be seemingly absurd and feel like grounds for instant lightning strike. But the Bible instructs us to be like Jesus, and you could search the world up and down until you can’t search any longer and you would be hard pressed to find a man in the flesh who reminded you more of Jesus than Joe Prattico. The catchphrase stuck and I can honestly say that in times over the past few years when I was struggling to maintain my composure, I quietly whispered to myself, “What would Papa Joe do?” <br />
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<b><br />
“Papa Joe knew”</b><br />
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About a year ago it was suggested to me to interview Papa Joe and learn more about his life. When I asked him he said, “I don’t think I am that interesting.” I didn’t get the feeling he wanted the attention, so I didn’t interview him. A few months later I asked him again, to which he gave a similar reply. So instead of persisting, I let some more time go by.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I told him again that I wanted to interview him. This time his response was much different. He seemed eager and ready to put his life story into words for someone. He quickly remarked, “Yeah, you keep telling me that.” As if to say he was ready for me to actually do it and stop talking about it.<br />
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I had every intention in the new year of sitting down with this man of God and learning about everything he had gone through in his life. I will always regret not pushing through with it and convincing him to let me interview him. I actually wonder now if he was always intrigued to pour out his life song to me, but he was just so humble that his automatic response was to defer from the attention.<br />
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So how come on December 11th, two and a half weeks before his death he was suddenly gung ho to sit down with me? Perhaps it was because in November he had fallen and broken some ribs and was more aware of the precious gift and fragility of life, especially as we grow older. But I remember his sudden eagerness for me to interview him to be both exciting and concerning. <br />
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What I am about to tell you might seem strange and I can’t decipher why I got this premonition in a dream:<br />
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Joe fell this past Tuesday night and on Wednesday morning before I woke up, or knew anything had happened, I vividly remember dreaming in words. The words were, “Pray for the Prattico’s”, and “Papa Joe knew.”<br />
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When I awoke after the dream I checked my email to see Papa Joe had fallen and been taken to the hospital with broken ribs and was being rushed into surgery with bleeding on his brain. Papa Joe succumbed to his injuries the next day, Thursday December 29th. <br />
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I couldn’t believe I had dreamt those words without knowing anything was wrong. I was wondering what the words of my dream meant and why they were shown to me in a dream. Maybe it was to encourage me to write in spite of being disappointed in myself for not interviewing him when I had the chance. But here is the best way I can define what "Papa Joe knew" means to me: <br />
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I think what “Papa Joe knew…” means is actually an incomplete sentence or statement that all of us can complete in our own personalized way. My statement would finish with Papa Joe knew how to make you feel like the most important person in the room, no matter who you were or where you were in life. He knew how to love you greater than anyone who wasn’t required, per blood relation, to do so. He left you asking yourself, “Wait a minute, is he really my biological Grandfather and nobody is telling me? Why does he care so much?” <br />
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Papa Joe knew how to make you feel like even your story about trying to pick out a pair of shoes to wear that morning was worthwhile. You would never catch Papa Joe looking over your shoulder at his surroundings as he spoke with you; a focus trait so many of us don’t have. Basically he made you feel special because you were special to him….. Papa Joe just knew.<br />
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<b>“I miss the man”</b><br />
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I had a CD of Papa Joe talking about how much he loved Pastor Al, which was recorded shortly after Al’s death in 2004. On that CD Papa Joe got teary eyed and choked up and said, “I miss the man. But I know I will see him again one day. And I am looking forward to it.” I remember listening to it and thinking I rue the day we are all saying the exact same thing about Papa Joe. <br />
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<b>Farewell, but not Goodbye</b><br />
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The way he died seemed so unfair to me until I began to hear the details. At first, I thought he fell the day before his 60th anniversary only to find out it was the day of. <br />
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He got to celebrate 60 years of marriage with his sweetheart, he got to wear his coveted suit, and he got to tell his family how much he loved them, moments before he fell.<br />
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I wondered why we didn’t get any warning. Why was he just gone? And then my sister told me that it would have been too hard for us to watch him grow old and weak; or to watch him suffer. And as hard as it would have been for us to watch, it would have been equally hard for Papa Joe to live it himself. He would not have liked “getting old.” He was too vibrant, too zestful, and just too plain good to suffer from getting old. <br />
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The Lord knew exactly the right time. There was no way he was taking him before his 60th wedding anniversary. There was no way he was not letting a suit be the last outfit he slipped into, and no way he was letting him go out in any other way but celebratory and dignified. <br />
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In the words of Papa Joe himself, “I miss the man. But I know I will see him again one day. And I am looking forward to it.” <br />
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Because above all else,Papa Joe knew the way to heaven.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-7377788350765659552011-12-24T07:21:00.000-08:002011-12-24T21:05:17.617-08:00Silent NightMoments ago I heard a sound that was all too familiar to me in the past. It represented incurable disease and hopelessness, and for a second just now it tried to represent that same thing it used to. <br />
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I am at my fiance's and her family and I had plans to spend the day out and about doing things you do on Christmas Eve. I had surgery Tuesday to laser remove massive amounts of scar tissue that allegedly have been causing my digestive system to be stymied.<br />
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Since the surgery, instead of the optimal opening of my system, it has closed to the point where as of last night it is not sustainable without copious amounts of prune juice. <br />
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This morning I have been up all night dealing with the results of the only viable option to move my system. Due to the current problem, I told Melissa I would be heading home this morning and not joining them out. As I lay in bed I heard the sounds of people busy to get ready to go somewhere. Keys jingling, plates clattering, feet pattering. It was alot of loud noise, the sound of ensuing plans being hashed out and brought to fruition.<br />
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See I spent alot of years in a basement, exhaustingly ill, with my family on the floors above me. Somehow the sounds of noise for a special day always resonated differently then the sound of noise on a mundane workday. <br />
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It was always the worst feeling when on one of those days where something important was going on,suddenly the noise stopped. The door would slam, the house would creak, and boom they were gone. It was so symbolic of being left behind;the world continuing while you were left fighting illness by yourself. You were indeed missing another life event.<br />
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Today when the feet stopped moving and the silence permeated the house, Satan wanted so badly to remind me of how awful that silence was. That is when I decided to write this blog.<br />
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I have been preparing a blog for a month trying to explain exactly what led up to me being healed of Crohn's Disease. I have a draft with the details of every encounter, every word spoken over me, every rough patch, and every doctor that said " It's Crohn's," to the last 2 doctors that said, " I don't understand why any doctor ever told you it was Crohn's." Instead I felt God telling me to write this up real fast and publish it. There is someone who needs to hear it. Someone who needs to know that the silence is not always hope lost. <br />
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I don't know why my first Christmas Eve with Melissa is going to be spent apart from her. I don't know why I have gotten sicker before I have gotten better. I don't know God's plan. But I know how it all ends. Maybe I have to suffer today to end up somewhere 27.4 years from now, that I could have not have gotten to without this specific circumstance. <br />
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Yesterday I scolded God. I told him that being ill on Christmas was not cool. Not after what I have gone through. I started to explain to him what I had been through, as though he didn't understand without my explanation. He quickly reminded me of the miracles he has done in my life; the absolute, concrete,stone cold miracles. He reminded me that I needed to understand that I don't need to understand what's currently happening.<br />
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I have been healed and only suffer in the temporal for a greater purpose; For the Glory of my Lord and savior Jesus Christ.(Tebow!!!!!!) I know this is going to pass soon. I pray even today that things would turn around for Christmas Day.<br />
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In the bible it says that we should rejoice in our suffering. From suffering comes perseverence , then character, then hope; and hope, the greatest of these, never fails. <br />
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I can humbly say that I always assumed once you reached hope that suffering was long behind it. All of those times where the house fell silent after a long rumbling, I was sure I was many steps away from hope. I couldn't wait until my creating noise was part of the fray on a special day; a hope fulfilled.<br />
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Today that scuttlebutt left me behind in the utter silence again, just like those years ago where the silence represented hopeless suffering. But today, knowing what I know now of Jesus and 'holy cow', knowing what he has shown me since the last time the house went silent.., Today that sound of silence is a silent sound of hope.<br />
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And now that I think about it, I guess it always was.<br />
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Addendum: I knew before I wrote this that it was for someone else. That it was God telling me to do it to help someone. I got confirmation of that after I posted it. Also, I wanted to be clear that this was not meant to be a downer or depressing. I was writing in a darker way yes, but with the ultimate message being I am excited and hopeful and know God has a detailed plan here for me health wise. Sorry if it came across as 'woe is me.' Lastly, after I typed this I felt God asking me to stay in Syracuse and I did and it was a good decision. Thanks for reading. Merry Christmas.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-73217719794848753882011-11-28T14:56:00.001-08:002011-11-28T16:35:10.356-08:00There's Something About the Way you Wink TonightHave you ever winked at someone? Like an unexplained wink that oozed definition and feel and the subject matter knew what you were winking about without any explanation? It’s a great tool of expression, right? A wink delivered on cue can speak a thousand words. Myself; I don’t think I have ever winked at someone except at myself in the mirror on a particularly good hair day. <br />
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The wink is a tough play with someone who is not familiar with you nor you familiar with them. Join me as I delve into the art of the wink and all it encompasses.<br />
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Sure, winking at someone your comfortable with is easy. It doesn’t even matter what it means because the person knows you well enough to know they like you and you’re probably just winking because you feel like tasting your dinner tonight instead of gabbing through it. <br />
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Winking without definition is a slippery slope however. Actually, legend has it Sonny Bono was winking at a ‘ski bunny’ in his last moments.<br />
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Winking at someone without a precursor is ambiguous because it can mean such a myriad of things. You can either be perceived as really nice or really creepy, all within the friendly confines of the same wink. George Costanza once had a whole month of his life screwed up because of an involuntary wink due to getting lemon juice in his eye. The definition of being hoodwinked’ is to be deceived or tricked. If I went up to the matronly Librarian who is standing about ten feet to my left right now and started winking at her, I would probably have my precious library card revoked for harassment. If I winked at this guy sitting at the terminal next to me I would probably…eh, I think he might wink back unfortunately. Wink at a girl at a bar and you are going to expose yourself to intense scrutiny and assumption, and probably end up with the last guy who winked at her’s phone number in your wallet.<br />
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<br />
Anyways, winkers in our society have been on the downswing since the onslaught of cynicism has barnstormed our everyday lives. Let’s look at some of the unfortunate paths some famous ‘winkers’ have trudged down. <br />
Rip Van ‘Winkle was not an ambitious man by any means. He slept and slept until he probably woke up one day old, broke, wrinkly, and loveless(I have not read the story so correct me if he ended up the CEO of NoDoz).Henry ‘Winkler was a heartthrob in the 70’s as “The Fonz”, but have you looked at him lately?For goodness sake, he makes Rip Van Winkle look fetching. And don’t even get me started on the dreaded Winkelvoss twins. Not even their mother likes those guys. <br />
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I can only remember one person who has winked at me in my life. My former high school coach became my boss when I coached at my alma mater and he would call a kid into his office and pretend like he was mad at him. He would give him a hard time and break them down about some minutia and when the kid would stare at the ground thinking he was in for a session of cleaning Mr.Pfieffers blackboard erasers, Coach would wink at me to let me know he was messing with the kid. The subject didn’t get to see the wink however, so he had to sustain the elongation of the berating until Coach felt ready to let him know everything was going to be ok. Depending on Coach’s mood, this process could cover a bunch of winks to me and a plethora of boot shaking by the presumed assailant…See, another incident of a wink just not feeling all that good. (In all reality it was in good humor and he only did it to kids that could handle it. Everyone laughed together after. Win/Win.)<br />
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Anyways, a year ago today I decided to use my first ‘wink….’ E-harmony has a list of options of ways to break the ice with a potential matched mate. I had to choose between, “Hi. We seem to have been matched up, how are you?” “ You seem interesting, would you like to share an electronic mail?, “ I can see my unborn children in your eyes,” and just simply, “Wink.” <br />
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I chose to wink at Melissa and let it ride. I was excited when she winked back later that day. We began emailing a few days later and on September 17th of this year, we got engaged. We will be married on July 21st of next year. <br />
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Our relationship began with an online wink and to this day we haven’t winked at each other in real life. This morning I texted her, “wink” and she texted back that she was so happy and smiley when she got the first wink from me on that fateful day one calendar year ago. I shudder to think at what could have been lost had she misread the wink and been looking for a less flirty opening segment from her potential suitor. <br />
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All I know is I am in love. In love with a woman of virtue and passion for the Lord and for life. Melissa makes me laugh like I have never laughed before and it’s now finally safe to tell her that I do see my unborn children in her eyes; both her wide open eyes and her winky eyes. <br />
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I am saving my first real life wink to her for an opportunistic moment. Perhaps the next time I see her even. Or at the altar.Or as she lay on the hospital bed pushing out our first child. Or on my death bed as we say farewell on this side of heaven. Maybe all of the above.<br />
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I know this next wink will be unlike the first one, which was punctuated with a nervous question mark. The next wink or winks will end with a much different punctuation at the end of it. This time with a period. I love you.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-39824903824091904112011-10-19T23:40:00.001-07:002011-11-14T05:57:29.666-08:00How God Cured My Incurable Disease“So let the water’s rise, if you want them to”<br />
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I don’t know why I haven’t written about this miracle sooner. Maybe I was waiting for confirmation from a second doctor,which I finally got on Tuesday, to squelch any questions some may have of its validity. Maybe I have been too busy to write. I don’t really know but I know it’s been in the back of my head for 9 months now. It is a story of what God has done for me. It is the ultimate miracle to date in my life and it’s been 14 years in the making. Four years ago I was diagnosed with Crohns disease and now I stand here on October 20th 2011 and proclaim that two separate doctors have looked into my digestive system and confirmed to me that they don’t see any signs of Crohn’s disease. I’m going to write in several parts where I have come from,what God has done,and what a miracle it is that I no longer live with what the secular world proclaimed to be an “incurable” disease. And of course we are going to have a little fun at my expense along the way.<br />
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14 years ago this month I got sick. Very sick. So sick the next year of my life was spent trying to figure out what the heck was going on. My symptoms were bloody and frequent diarrhea,fatigue,anemia,and fevers. Whatever it was this was rip roared into my life right at the beginning of the one of the most coveted years of a young man’s life;my senior year in high school. I had finally come into my own socially and what do you know,I started pooping blood with no control over it. Not exactly a trait the ladies were looking for. I missed a ton of school and spent a lot of time at doctor’s offices. I had no clue I was about to embark on a struggle that these words on a piece of paper could never fully explain.<br />
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About 9 months after the initial symptoms I was finally diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis,the second most severe digestive disease possible. U.C. is inflammatory bowel disease. It is defined as inflammation of the large intestine. About 1 in 300 Americans have either Colitis or the more serious Crohn’s disease. I spent the next 5 years on high doses of the sterioid prednisone,which I know now is just as bad as the disease itself.<br />
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The drug kept me alive though,although a lot of those years I was so drugged up I almost felt comatose. I was not myself. I was miserable, unhappy,and unhealthy. My hair thinned out and my face puffed up as side effects of the drugs. I was told I was going to lose my hips if I didn’t get off of prednisone,and I was only 21 years old.<br />
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When I was at my sickest I couldn’t even keep my head up over my shoulders. I was so weak that I couldn’t sit up for more than a few minutes at a time. (For a miracle story God gave me from this time in my life please read this blog if you haven’t already…. joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-first-time-actually-seeing-god-in.html)<br />
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I also had no control over my bowels. At its worst I would have about 5 seconds between the time I first felt the urge to go,to the time I was actually going uncontrollably. Much to my chagrin there was not always a bathroom within 5 seconds of me. I would have to wear diapers when I went out during the day sometimes. I remember a time when I was at a New York Giants conference championship game and trying to decide if I wanted to wear a diaper or just risk it. I had already gone to the bathroom behind a parking lot dumster on the way to the game and didn’t want this huge game to be ruined by soiling myself. I remember deciding to wear the diaper in and telling myself, “This is awesome,you are watching your team play for the super bowl and your diaper is going to make sure you don’t miss it.” I was legitimately stoked. A 20 year old man with a diaper,his best friend, and his football team. ‘This is the life.’( I didn’t end up needing the diaper that day after all.)<br />
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But all joking aside,that was my life. Not to mention all that goes along with 10 to 20 disease driven bowel movements a day. I used to sleep all day and stay up all night because the day time was just too hard for me. I didn’t like going out during the daylight because I couldn’t inconspicuously drop a bowel movement at mine or someone else’s front tire in the sunlight. My eyes were also severely damaged by the potent amounts of steroids I was on and my eyes were so sensitive to light that I couldn’t stand it. One time a friend of mine stopped over during the day and I came out to the driveway. After I went back inside I couldn’t see a thing. I realized my eyes hadn’t seen daylight in so long that they were struggling to adjust from dark to light to dark again and I was just seeing darkness now. It went away after a few minutes but it was really a wake up call to how indisposed my body was.<br />
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In all these years I had no relationship with Jesus. I didn’t really care to. Perhaps I was mad at him. I really don’t remember. I was rude to my family and distant from my friends. I lived as a shell of myself. The disease and the drugs had worn me down and I had withered away to about 130 pounds at 6 foot 2. Looking back I probably should have died at some point,had it not been against God’s plan for my life.<br />
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I spent many a night in the hospital getting fluids or being examined. I was also a guinea pig to a new drug,being the first person in Rochester to receive Remicade for bowel disease. I had such a bad reaction to that drug that I ended up with a 107 degree temperature and rising before I finally got admitted into the intensive care unit of the old Genesee Hospital . I am convinced that without God’s supernatural touch,I die that night. I can’t tell you what it felt like,but it was bad and I don’t know how much worse it could have feasibly gotten before death would have occurred.<br />
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At some point in 2001,I went to a free clinic for osteoporis screening and waited in a long line with all elderly folks. After about 10 minutes I literally couldn’t stand anymore and bowed out of the line as all the people 50 to 60 years older than me stood there fine. It was that day that I knew I had to do something to regain my life.<br />
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On Christmas Eve of 2001 my mother and I went to a surgeon and decided I would have my diseased intestine removed. It would be a 2 surgery ordeal. The first,removal of the large intestine and the rectum, with construction of a J-pouch. The J Pouch would be my small intestine folded on itself and would serve as my new digestive system. I would be required to have an ileostomy bag for six months while my system healed. An ileostomy is when your small intestine is pulled thru your stomach and protrudes on the outside of your body,and excretes feces into an attached bag that hangs down.<br />
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Now the prospects of a bag were intimidating but we knew it was the only chance I would ever gain some semblance of a life. The surgery was a beast and a bear all rolled into one. On April 2 nd ,2002 I woke up with a foot long incision on my stomach,a poop bag hanging off of it, and the worst pain I have ever experienced. When my loved ones looked at the wound I could tell it must have been awful because tears welled up in their eyes. The doctors told me they had never seen a colon so diseased as mine. It was going to be a long road to recovery. But the good news was as my disease was defined as confined to the large intestine,now that I had removed it,I was disease free.<br />
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The ileostomy bag was a challenge. Some nights I would roll over on it while I slept and,what do you know?Pop goes the fecal. I did try to make the most of it though. I was open about having it and once placed it on a co-workers forearm and asked him “is this yours?”,before he ran into the bathroom and hid for about a half hour. I also wore it on the outside of my pants at a Chinese restaurant,much to the horror of my eating companion,Dan Wallace. I had to make the most of it and make fun of myself. After all how else do you deal with defecating thru your stomach skin?<br />
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In September of 2002 I had surgery 2. They took away the bag and I would be able to go the normal way again. They said to expect it to start with about 10 to 15 movements a day and to go down to about 3 to 5. I was excited that I was disease free and ready to get off the Prednisone (it took me a year to wean off the monster). I was ready to embark on my new life. The only problem was….. I never got better.<br />
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I had problems with the new pouch from the get go. I was going non stop and couldn’t properly evacuate. The only difference between this and colitis was I did have control over my bowels,so no diapers needed. But something was still wrong. I spent the next 5 years just living with it. I was tired of doctors and just wanted to live my life as well as I could. In May of 2007 however it was very bad and I decided to go to get a colonoscopy. The doctor discovered I was in the 1 percent who was misdiagnosed and I actually had the most serious digestive disease known to man;Crohn’s Disease.<br />
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The day I was diagnosed with Crohn’s,I played in a softball game. I hit a ball harder and further than I ever remember hitting it,for a homerun. This ball went on a straight line over the center fielders head by about 50 feet. I was not and had never been a power hitter. My mom commented that it was God giving me a blessing on such a hard day. I didn’t see it as such then,but looking back it just wasn’t in my power to hit a ball like that and I am sure it was God up to bat for me. It was so symbolic of what the next 5 years of my life was going to be like.<br />
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I had ignored God during the duration of the past disease (Colitis) and I would ignore him for the first portions of this more serious disease. But there was going to come a day where looking to him was going to lead to my deliverance. He knew what was going to happen,and that out of body homerun was just the start of the miracle of my healing from a disease I was just diagnosed with that morning.<br />
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Part 2 coming later this month. Thanks for reading!joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-80577238250029113022011-06-10T13:09:00.000-07:002011-06-10T13:23:27.277-07:00Feeling Mushy for A Mush; My Lebron James Sympathy MovementIf you perused Twitter last night and looked at the trends, you would have found that the number one trend-er for the day was 'Rashard Lewis'. Rashard’s Wizards didn’t make the playoffs. Not even close. So why on the day of game 5 of the NBA Finals was he trending, and not say, Lebron James? <br />
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Well you see , because ESPN reporter Stephen A. Smith had reported from a ‘reliable’ source that he had a lead about Lewis having a devious physical relationship with Lebron’s girlfriend recently. <br />
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Whether its true or not I am not sure. This is the second time a rumor of another NBA star having a relationship with someone close to Lebron has arisen in the last few playoff seasons(Google, "Delonte West likes Lebron's Mom"). If I had to guess I would say its absolute truth. Usually reported rumors from a “reliable” source in the Orlando area are indeed accurate.( See: Tiger Woods);But on the heels of the most perplexing Finals performance from a superstar I have ever heard or seen, I found myself changing my sentimental stance on Lebron; I kind of feel bad for him<br />
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I feel for him as a human. He is a mortal after all. A 25 year old not far into manhood. He didn’t choose to be given the greatest basketball talent God may have ever doled out. He didn’t ask to be followed around by a camera as a 13 year old; seemingly setting the standard for the rest of his life being scoped under the lights. He certainly didn't ask to be involved in a relationship with a woman that would be rumored to go sour and having the villain of her possible infidelity be the number one trend-er on Twitter on the afternoon of the biggest basketball game of his life. <br />
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We haters have been eating up his failures for the last few days, and most of us probably haven’t stopped to think what it would be like to have your work scrutinized by tens of millions of people. Not to mention your relationship woes broad casted throughout national news media outlets. <br />
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Sure, I am still rooting for him to fail competitively on the court at this time. I pumped my fist at almost his every miss in games four and five. I however found myself opening up the possibility of an end game to my personal chastising of him. <br />
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I certainly don’t want to see him win a title this year. And thankfully, if the Mav’s can win one of the next 2 games, he will have to at least pay a years worth of dues for his utterly gross front running attempt.<br />
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However, I am now open to the possibility, maybe even the likelihood that one day down the road I could allow myself to root for him again and even root for him to win a title. <br />
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When I woke up yesterday if you had asked me if I saw a light at the end of my bitter tunnel I would have said absolutely not. Today I realized I might just want to see the saga'd quest continue for a few more years. Heck, maybe even a decade. But if 36 year old Lebron is 0 and 5 in the finals, wearing a Minnesota Timberwolves jersey as their sixth man, and has a shot at a ring, I think I assuredly would root for the culmination of his chasing's to come to fruition for him. It's just that I enjoy good sports stories and drama so much, and the longer James goes without a title, the thicker the plot. <br />
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Listen, Lebron is struggling with an on the court complex, whether he admits it or not; Something is wrong with him and its not talent,it’s mental.<br />
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In his last 2 games, the biggest of his 25 year life, he has blended deferment and what can only be described as cowering under pressure, to a tee. The Anti King James side of me loves it. The humane side of me suddenly feels for him. <br />
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None of us could ever understand what its like to fail at our jobs and our relationships on such a public level as Lebron James has encountered in the past few days. We compare him to Michael Jordan, but he never asked to be compared to him. He never asked to be this good at basketball. He never signed up to be raked over the hottest coals in town. He never meant to be THIS. <br />
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But he did however sign up to be the bizarr-o Scottie Pippen , and my oh my what a fine job he is doing at being just plain bizarre. The man has superhuman ability and has been dubbed the chosen one, but has effectively boxed himself into a corner with his tail between his legs in this NBA Finals. <br />
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He tweeted "Now or never" before and about game 5. What now Lebron? Game 6 is still going to occur right? <br />
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This isn’t what I envisioned or hoped for from Lebron when I fell in love with his on the court character and basketball tools while he was in Cleveland.... But,this is exactly what I had hoped for when he shredded the city of Cleveland in a shameless one hour special last July. <br />
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Hey, in Four days Lebron James might win his first World Title. It’s still very much in play. But watching him on and off the court the past 2 days has given me a new found respect for the humanity of Lebron James, and opened me up to the possibility of one day rooting for him to get it all right : I see myself rooting for him to find a interior, back to the basket, post game in his later years like Michael did, when his legs were weighed down. And I find myself pipe dreaming that he might go back to Cleveland at age 31 when his contract in Miami is up, with no rings in his baggage; and to win his first in Cleveland. <br />
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I always thought I was a softy when it came to sports. I realized today that if I can see a light at the end of the tunnel, in this encompassing disdain for Lebron James self induced highway robbery of his own ceiling, that I am an even bigger softy than I first thought. But alas, I slap myself and put on my "Go Mav’s" face for now. <br />
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It’s just too soon, Lebron. I know you never asked for all of this pressure or fame, and I now hope you get your trophy one day. But not this Tuesday. Not June of 2012. Maybe not even June of 2017. But yes, some June, some day.<br />
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Until then though Lebron, would it upset you if I rooted for Delonte and Rashard to win a title first??joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-22197176880670165072011-04-29T14:11:00.000-07:002011-04-29T14:21:05.778-07:00Finding the Michael Scott in All of UsYes, I cried. Yes, I felt like a friend of mine was yanked out of my life and an important part of me was ripped out of my innards. Yes, I was elated for him to have ridden off into the fictional sunset into a life of fictional happiness; the one he had always dreamt about. The one with a wife and the promises of children. Yes, Michael Scott was veritable to me on a deeper level than just a television character. <br />
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I saw Michael Scott in a different perspective then most may have seen him. You might have seen him as a quirky, fun loving, goofy, asinine character on a television sitcom. When I really looked into his character though I found something in him that struck an esoteric nerve. He was zany and came off as a selfish, conceited imbecile because he was longing for happiness. He was often crass because he had internal anguishes of not having found true love and was simply acting out his hurts in a different avenue of expression. The creators turned him into a symbolic character that some people could relate to, whether it be at their current point in life or in a time gone by. <br />
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‘The Office’ is the only show I have watched every episode of week in and week out since ‘Seinfeld.’ With ‘Seinfeld’ I missed the first few years and never really felt drawn to a specific character. With Michael Scott I have experienced for the first time a friendship and dare I say love for a television character. The feelings are not reciprocated, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter who or what it is, as long as it touches you on an emotionally profound level, it’s worth pouring something into.<br />
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For 7 years I watched this character yearn and suffer in an often subtle, fictionalized morphing. After all he was a mid 40 something American male who craved to be liked and longed for a family of his own. Who among us doesn’t want to be liked? Who doesn't want family to share life with?<br />
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He was teetering on the edge of tragic figure status in that he knew he was running out of time. Running out of time to play ball with his kids. Running out of time to grow old with his grand kids. He was a white collar employee with a seemingly good salary and stellar health. Yet this man was lost and lonely. It was somewhere around season 4 that it struck me that we were watching perhaps the most tragic figure in television history, masked under the guise of ridiculous humor. <br />
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The fact that his character was able to make me laugh like none other I’ve ever watched, in the midst of his search for his own personal holy grail was television genius. I always found myself rooting for him to finally find what he was looking for. But I never missed a chance to laugh at his expense either. <br />
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The 7 years I spent having the privilege of getting to know Michael Scott (Yes, I just typed that) were transcendent in my own personal life too. After a long, lonely night of gambling I would often pop in an episode of ‘The Office’ and bond with a character that was desolate in his own way. <br />
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I got to know Michael Scott in a time where I was far from where I am now. Much like him, I wasn’t sure of myself or where my life was going. As was he, I was painfully dumped a few times in my years of getting to know Michael. Through years of illness and confusion, I too wondered whether I was ever going to meet that special person and play ball with my child.<br />
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As crazy as it sounds, I believe Michael Scott helped me through some of the most trying times in my life. In times where I wasn’t even close to my own family or God, I turned to that character to laugh and be touched. Sometimes just being able to say "At least I'm not Michael Scott", was enough to pacify me.<br />
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When it boils down to it, Michael Scott was just a television character. He doesn’t exist; he isn’t real and he isn’t in Boulder, Colorado right now having his culmination of a life hoped for with his fiance.<br />
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So how then, tonight, in his last episode did this fictional character’s contentment actually touch me as I sat silent on my couch? In my life I have learned the things I appreciate most are those moments you feel warmth in your soul without a word coming out of your mouth. He didn't need to exist. <br />
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I cried tonight watching this fictionalized character ‘die off.’ I didn’t feel dumb about crying or as if I was losing perspective. I found myself legitimately moved by the fact I am going to miss that goofy clown. You can earnestly miss old homes, vacation spots, or sports stadiums that have since been torn down. Why not a television character? <br />
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After some selfish tears of sorrow I found myself once again merry realizing Michael was happy. I was moved by this creation because it epitomizes so much of what we all strive for. At the end of the day, we all just want to be happy. <br />
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In that way, the spirit of Michael Scott will live on in all of us who truly grew to love him. And his spirit is all we have left of him now. I suppose it's all we ever had. <br />
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<strong></strong><em></em>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-40249576172997996282011-04-12T07:54:00.000-07:002011-04-12T10:20:55.330-07:00A Day At The Too Fast, Fast Food Place.I know, I know. I shouldn't even be eating it. But this is not meant to be a 'Come to Jesus' moment. This is a rant about the all too hasty abruptness of a fast food drive thru. Wait a minute, isn't that the nature of the basis of your decision to go thru a drive thru? No. My reason for drive thru's is that I don't have to answer to anyone when my shoes don't match or my boxers are indeed my pants for the moment. Sure, I would like for my artery clogging food to be given to me in a timely fashion. But lately, in the past year I have noticed a difference in the M.O. of fast food drive thru's. They are too fast. Even Superman needs a second to regroup.<br />
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What do I mean? Well if you don't know then you are eating right, so kudos. Because if you have had any experience with drive thru's lately you will have noticed the following, no matter which one you go to: These people are trained to send both unspoken and spoken vibes about how fast they want you in and out of their line. <br />
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You pull up to the drive thru already knowing you shouldn't be there. Your stomach is begging you to turn around but your soul is desperate for an insta-fix. So you pull up to the public address system and before you can even come to a full stop, an automated voice asks you if you want the most obscure item on the menu for 30 cents less then it usually is. The voice comes across as friendly, in real time, and focused on your needs, but really its a pimply faced high schooler in Beverly Hills California, who recorded it during one of his 2,4 hour shifts back around St.Patrick's day. <br />
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So you tell this voice "No thanks," only to get to the real person. Then the aforementioned real person comes into your life telling you to go ahead with your order. They don't even tell you to wait until you're ready anymore. If I'm not ready I feel guilty and apologize that I'm not ready. Why am I apologizing? Because I'm trained to worry about the voice inside the box more then about ordering what will make me happy.<br />
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So I apologize. From the time you apologize a running clock in your head is counting down. You know that apology is only good for about 15 to 20 seconds. If you are still contemplative after that, you owe the box another apology, lest you offend it. Honestly I had a friend make me leave the drive thru a few months ago because when the girl asked how I was doing, I said "Sub-par." The Giants had just been eliminated from the playoff race and I was indeed "sub par." He thought I offended her and didn't trust our food would be safe in her hands. I can't even be myself to the drive thru lady? We worry more about offending the drive thru guy then offending our spouses. <br />
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Anyways, you sit there worried trying to decide what you want, and all this time there is another,more tangible and less paranoid "clock" that has begun. Now if you are leery of big brother, do not read the following few lines. I'm going to delve into the little known underbelly of the fast food world. A fact that since we all have discovered that their fast food is literally killing us, they have now put at the top of the list of things they don't want you to know about. One that will change your drive thru life forever.<br />
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What is the "clock", you ask? The clock is just that. It's a clock. It begins running the second you pull up to the speaker. Fast food eateries chart the time it takes you to first come up upon their den of intestinal dismay to the time you drive off flustered, fumbling your loose change, and wondering why your straw only has half the wrapper on it. <br />
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They have quotas to meet. Not on the quality of the food per say, but on the speediness of getting you in and out faster than you can say "give me the real beef." <br />
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A computer system takes tabs on the times of every drive thru, and regional fast food joints are compared and judged by 'corporate' based on the data. Managers put pressure on their minimum wage workers to 'get em' in and get em' out', because their job performance reviews depend on it. Isn't it comforting to know that your on the clock as you go thru a drive thru like you are the general manager of a pro sports team? "Why did I pick Ryan Leaf this early?" "Why did I draft Sam Bowie over Michael Jordan?" "Why did I order the 10 piece nuggets when the 6 piece would have sufficed?" America has demanded this. I remember when I used to say " This fast food is too slow,"as a naive youngster........ It's my fault. I created this monster.<br />
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How do I know this? Well I cant name names, but insert the scrambled faced girl here whose name is protected and is shaking as she speaks into the camera. That's how I know. But I don't really know. Because she didn't really "know." And you don't know either. Don't say I didn't warn you.<br />
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So now you know your simply a time piece to them. Just sand in a glass. But we are still only at the ordering stage. So after a third apology, we order. <br />
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"Ya can I get a number two please, but not before you tell me who number two works for?" "I'm sorry sir, did you want a number 12 you said?" " Close. I do need an even number, you are right. But your 10 numbers off." " OK sir so that's a number 10 with a Hi-C then. Drive up for your total." " No, not a number 10,that's the number I hear gave Chris Farley his baker's dozen heart attack in that one week. I need a number 2 and that reminds me, why aren't your toilets cleaned more often during rush hour as they are during down hours?" "Sir, can you drive up?" "Can you Super size me??" "I'm not familiar with that term,.. or that movie sir. Drive up."<br />
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You pull up to the first window. The first window is where you come across the most miserable worker there. And you can't blame her. She is the girl in the box, who doesn't see any of her other co-workers and has to touch dirty money and dirty hands all day. She is as happy to see your penny's as your large intestine is to see your chicken carcass's,err,nuggets. <br />
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So your total was $9.81 and you give her a 10 and say "I have change." So you start counting your loose change from the median "things" holder. You start with the quarters, then realize you have enough nickels and penny's and can save the quarters for laundry,which could come sooner then later if you don't count your change fast enough and your Hi-c lid is somehow "accidentally" loose around one inconspicuous edge. (I know circle's don't have edges, but bear with me)<br />
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So you count out your nickel's and penny's and your sweating your famished head off. Why? Because you look up somewhere around the fifty cent mark and realize the following: The first window girl has her hand out the window, although her head is looking the opposite way, presumably at her texting machine. But by now the second window has opened. And there is a head leering out of it like a giraffe at a zoo. You realize your food must be ready at the window ahead. How blessed are you that a fresh batch of nuggets must have just came out of the oven? But, How do you know your food must be ready? Because the "giraffe's" hand is now outside the window with a bag in it. Wait, is this guy really dangling my food and my Hi-C out of window two while I struggle at window one? You bet your bottom feeding dollar menu he is. <br />
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So you give the uninterested, yet aggravated first window girl the change and she gives you your dollar bill back. You tell her you don't need a receipt. They always get offended when you say you don't need the receipt. I'm not sure why but I'm sure it has to do with George Orwell's "clock," in some way. So then you try to put your dollar back in your wallet, which is now on the seat beside you, as you pull up to window number two to get your meal;which has now had enough fresh air to make an arborist jealous.<br />
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Before you know it, your at window two and your dollar is just not nestled to your liking in your wallet. So instead of grabbing your food and beverage, you tend to the wallet. Now this incenses the pimply faced high school football star; Only he doesn't say it, he vibes it. The crass fast food worker vibe is the harshest. You should have seen how unspokingly angry the kid got the other day when I asked him to skim some of the cool whip off the top of my milkshake because it was overflowing....Anyways, So you begin to feel unhealthy disdain for this high school senior. It's not his fault the clock is running, you tell yourself. Give him a break,grab the food. But then you smile as you remind yourself its not your fault either, and you continue putting your dollar in your wallet.<br />
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By now he has pulled your all to quickly made and delivered food back into his booth, as if to try to scare you into thinking he may have the power to just tell you, "No food for you." Your dollar is half in and half out of your wallet due to unceremoniously folding under the pressure of the drive thru; but you know you can't go back to the wallet a second time. You just can't. So you finally are ready to receive your bag of food. It will all be worth it when you're eating you're tasty nuggets and your parch squelching Hi-C.<br />
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The boy gives you your food and you ask if their are napkins in the bag. He says yes. You say, "Notice I used napkins in the plural tense." He hands you some napkins. Then he closes his window in such a way, as if you were the drunken neighbor who sat on the porch all nite talking to your friends in an unruly tone, and keeping his kids awake. <br />
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You drive off and head home to eat. The "clock" has stopped at forty two seconds above the quota median. You just cost some manager her bonus, and your license plate number is plastered to a bulletin board in their back room on post office poster paper. But at least you got your food. You remember as your driving off you forgot the straw, so you go to throw it in reverse but its too late. The clock has already gotten the next victim. The giraffe has moved on to the next car. <br />
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You go home to eat frazzled. You're sure you must have a straw laying around from a time they put 2 in your bag when you only ordered one drink...It's time to eat now. Put the all to fast fast food experience behind you for a few minutes.And, oh, ..Enjoy your fish-fillet and iced tea.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-44040147252982367492011-03-21T17:46:00.000-07:002011-03-21T18:16:28.292-07:00The First Person I saw Accept Christ in God's Miraculous TimingIn October of 2009 I was newly dedicated to Christ. I decided I was going to stop gambling and had been attending addictions classes for the past few weeks, when God put together his first fateful divine appointment in my life. <br />
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The story takes place on a Tuesday night, but the ball begins rolling for its apex on the preceding Friday. I had gone to Tc Hooligans with my sister and brother in law and paid with my debit card. Somehow the card was split in half. Whether or not that has anything to do with the fact the waitress never gave it back to me, I don't know. <br />
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Four days later, I found myself in the neighborhood of a girl whom had broken up with me a few days earlier. When I looked down her street , I saw her new boyfriends car in the driveway. The aggravation of this caused me to begin driving to the casino in Buffalo. I had been about three weeks or so "clean." <br />
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As I drove thru Greece on my way to Buffalo I had to pick up some cash to gamble with. I had a 3000 dollar check from a poker site and was going to cash it at my bank, Esl. Well, I couldn't find any Esl's in Greece but I did find an ATM machine. By now I was vascillating and could feel the spiritual warfare going on in this situation. I reached into my wallet and couldn't find my debit card anywhere. Then I remembered I must have left it at Hooligan's four days before. It's the first time I remember losing my debit card in a place other then the ATM machine. <br />
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So here was my problem: I couldn't gain any access to money to gamble with. I was a half hour from home and only had a few bucks in my pocket. At first I was angry in regards to my bad luck, but as I calmed down I knew it was not luck at all. God had started the ball rolling four days earlier, knowing I would be challenged to gamble on this day. <br />
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The story gets better. As I gripped reality I decided I wasn't going to go to the casino ( Doesn't sounds like I had much choice, does it?), but I would instead go to addictions counseling that night. <br />
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As I sat in group counseling, an African American man of about 45 years of age, began to share of his life as a drug addict. He shared a story of a time he died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Yes, died. He said he was pronounced dead and subsuquently revived. What he described he saw in his instance of death was daunting and haunting. <br />
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He said when he died he was taken to hell. He said he remembers the fires and the screams. He remembered seeing people in chains and cages yelling for help. His most succint description was of the heat of it all; the raw, molten, heat. <br />
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This man whose name I do not know, was revived and came back to earth. He said upon learning of hell's fury that he hoped to never go back there again. <br />
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After I listened to this story I remember God speaking to me so clearly. When God speaks you don't hear a voice audibly, but you hear a voice in your head that you know is not yours. You know its not yours because it is so peaceful and overcoming and seperate from your own day to day mindful conscience. <br />
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What God was saying to me was " This man just shared of hell and how awful it was, but ask him if he has accepted me as his God since then." So in front of about 10 people and upon Jesus's instruction, I said this. " Sir, I don't want to put you on the spot. But I think God wants me to ask you if you have done anything since that day to ensure you don't go back there upon your final death?"<br />
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The man said he had not. He said he was not worthy to be a christian because he had done bad things. He even said he was unworthy because he smoked.Imagine that;there are people out there who have not been ministered to properly enough that they actually believe cigarettes can seperate you from the God who made you.<br />
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We as a group explained to him that is exactly why he was worthy. We all have done bad things. We all our sinners. Thats why we need the Lord. We fall short without him. <br />
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This mystery man accepted the Lord that night. We all applauded and told him he will assuredly never have to experience that pain or that heat again. It was something so obvious to some of us; I mean be honest, if you went to hell and came back, wouldn't you make sure you never go back again?<br />
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This man hadn't dealt with it in the years since his experience. Maybe nobody ever told him how to get to heaven. Maybe the lies of unworthiness were so binding that he thought he deserved hell. <br />
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When I think of all that happened that week it was so clearly God. He allowed me to lose my debit card,and while upset about my personal life, allowed me to see him so clearly in my moment of weakness. All because he needed me at that meeting that night to hear from him, and to speak to a man who had literally been to hell and back. I'll never forget that divine day;One that would have led me to a casino without God's graceful intervention. <br />
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I'll also never forget that day because it was the first time God had given me the privilege to be used in bringing someone to Christ....And undisputably enough, God knew he needed me there that night specifically. ....After that Tuesday night in October of 2009, I never saw that mystery man again.....joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-87539996878833130152011-03-03T11:25:00.000-08:002011-03-03T11:35:44.268-08:00Joe DiBella has a Nice New Girlfriend<strong> Joe DiBella has a Nice New Girlfriend</strong> <strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>By Joe DiBella</strong><br />
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<strong>If you haven't read this blog yet, please do; as it is imperative to understanding the following blog. <a href="http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/12/one-about-gambling-problem-one-year-of.html">http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/12/one-about-gambling-problem-one-year-of.html</a></strong><br />
<strong><br />
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<b> Some people say I read into things to much. Have they told me this to my face? Sometimes. Have I traced this in their face? Sometimes. But actually I believe I look into things just the right amount. Funny; You never hear anyone say that do you?... 'He looks into things just the right amount.' We as a society are ever skeptical. It's the ever skeptics in so many that keeps so many from religion. Because although everyone knows we must die on this earth, so many skeptically for whatever reason lose interest in what happens when we do so. How could there be a God, they ask? Nothing comes out of nothing. But with that very same thinking there is the thinking that if a higher power didn't pop out of nowhere, then somehow we did? Something had to come out of nothing. You can't dispute that. So instead of saying we popped out of nowhere, how about saying God popped out of nowhere, and defining "nowhere" as "always there."<br />
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See I look into things just the right amount. Which is always. When you ask God to write your life's story as I have the past year or so, you will always expect God to be the one outlining your life's details. And God is deft enough to write between the lines. Whereas I pray almost everyday that I am also deft enough to choose to read between his lines.<br />
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Alas, my point: I have a new girlfriend. But not any old girlfriend you see. I paid $59.95 for the privilege and unadulterated joy of meeting her. I signed up for E-harmony in November with the belief I would be meeting someone significant. Did I surprise you with that last comment? Is it because you expected me to say " I signed up for E-harmony without thinking it was going to amount to anything significant?" Well that would be the commonplace themed statement to make. But you must realize, as I said before, I look into things just the right amount.<br />
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So when my mom text me for the third or fourth time in a couple months time that she had seen a commercial stating "E-harmony has a free communication weekend coming up and you should try it out," I was able to quip back "I already signed up and paid, and maybe you should try it out and find us a sugar daddy."<br />
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I have prayed for over one year for God to protect me from the wrong relationships. I had already had a lifetimes worth of those. So over that time God had made me privy to spots and situations he didn't approve of through lack of peace or lack of sensibility in the situation. I prayed for doors he wanted to close to close, and strings he needed to pull to be pulled.<br />
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For the first few weeks of E-Harmony, I was finding they were trying to hook me up with (in my eyes only) fairly unattractive woman mostly in the Great Toronto area. My 'looking radius' was set at only 60 miles wide and long. But apparently no one told E-harmony the fast ferry was defunct as they must have expected me to get to these woman on the boat to make it to them in 60 miles distance.<br />
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It was late in November that I decided that I would expand my radius to 90 miles. It was right about then that a mystery woman in Liverpool was going to quit her E-harmony account due to insufficient return on investment. Luckily for all of us, her best friend talked her into signing up for one more go of it.<br />
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On November 28th I winked at Melissa Holden Kaltaler.(Remember that middle name for later). Winking is the online equivalent to walking up to someone in real life and saturating them with a corny pick up line. Much to my delight, she found my wink to be at the very least, somewhat charming, and winked back.<br />
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To make a long story short, over the past few months we have talked and gotten along swimmingly and recently decided we should embark on a more then friends relationship.(After all it wasn't "E-platonic friends.com" we had signed up for)<br />
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Last week I felt an insatiable urge to go back and look at the date of our first email to each other. I knew the significance of December 1st being the date I quit playing "Holdem'; and of course the gift the Lord had given me at midnight on my one year anniversary in the Water baptism certificate being found. (As you read in the blog link above.)<br />
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Well, not much to my surprise, the date of our first Email to each other was indeed December the 1st. My one year anniversary of being set free from the bondage of gambling. I had asked God to portray things as making sense, and to me introducing communication with such a lovely girl on my "Birthday" made allot of sense.<br />
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Am I reading into that one? That's a 1 in 365 shot and 1 in 366 shot every fourth year, that we would start communicating on that day. If I was a gambling man I would not bet on that being a coincidence.<br />
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Another interesting tidbit : Melissa's middle name is 'Holden.' So what', you say? Well it is one letter off of 'Holdem.' One letter off of the game that ensnared my joy and spirits for so many years. Sometimes one decision or one letter per say, is much more significant then the small numeric change we believe the number one represents. Let's look at the tally board, in sequential order of how symbolic I believe the number one has been in my life in the past 15 months.</b><br />
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<b>Significance of the number one scoreboard:</b><br />
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1) One hope for freedom from addiction.<br />
2) One one time payment to a dating site.<br />
3) One year of freedom.<br />
4) One miraculous birthday gift at midnight on my one year anniversary from God.<br />
5) One email sent on my one year anniversary of not gambling.<br />
6) One letter discrepancy in a middle name separating that very middle name from the vice that had and would have always kept me from God's Will for my life.<br />
7) One God in the 'middle' of it all.<br />
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We will see what God has in store in the next few months in this relationship. I know I just want the one true God in the middle of its orchestration. I'm just glad to have a peace that passes understanding about where I have been brought in my life in all regards. <br />
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I hope you believe me, in that I was looking into what I just wrote the exact right amount. When you believe in the one and only saviour who died,rose, and made one route for you to live in eternal glory,the number one becomes extremely worthwhile.<br />
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One isn't the loneliest number, like the old song bemoans. When you believe in Jesus, and his perfect love and plans, one is the only number that adds up.</b>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-80053422494824473692010-12-01T14:53:00.000-08:002011-04-27T18:28:24.145-07:00The One About The Gambling Problem: One Year of Freedom<strong>How it all began</strong><br />
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6 years ago I fell for something. I was the last of my friends to get into it,and I was the only one to get entrenched by it. In 2004 the poker boom took off amidst an average nobody amateur poker player named Chris Moneymaker winning the World Series of Poker main event and 6 million dollars. Suddenly teenage boys and grown men everywhere were playing no limit Texas hold em' with their friends, thanks to the 'everyman' hitting it rich in Vegas. Sure poker had always been a staple in some way. You always see it being played in the old westerns and sitcoms spanning back to the 1950's. The game was usually five card stud back then. But with Moneymaker winning the title in 2004, no limit hold em took off due to the TV coverage,the Internet accessibility,and the casino prevalence.<br />
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I had a few friends who started playing friendly five dollar games on Friday nights at their houses. I never wanted to play because I didn't want to learn how. It seemed complicated and I thought I would just be donating five dollars to the cause. I finally learned that If I wanted to do something on weekends, I better join in.<br />
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The first time I played I didn't know what I was doing. I kept winning hands just playing stupid and getting lucky. I had a cheat sheet that showed me the ranks of the hands that I had to check almost every hand.<br />
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At some point in the next few months I started playing online and depositing money. It started as 20 bucks. I remember the first time I lost 50 dollars online I was devastated. I said I was not going to do it again but a few days later I put in another 50. Somewhere around the summer of 2005, I started turning a slight profit. I would cash out a couple hundred bucks and leave a few dollars in my account to try to build it up again. Over the course of the next few years, what started as twenty dollar games turned into 50,100,200,300,500,and 1000 respectfully.<br />
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I became obsessed with the game. It was a game of math and Psyche. I would study everything and anything I could; On TV, in books, atonline forums. I was a student of the game in every measure. I would go to the casinos and everyone else at the table would be socializing and I would just be staring at them and listening. I never said a word. Any little tidbit I could pick up was going to mean profit. And every little moment I let my guard down to fraternize with my competitors could lead to hundreds or thousands of dollars lost. <br />
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By September of 2006 I was making enough money to only work part time. I worked two overnights a week and played poker as my main source of income. I kept strict records of wins and losses and paid my taxes. It was a business to me. Many days I would sit at my computer for 16 to 20 hours without even eating. I would go to bed and do it again the next day. I was ranked in the top half of the top one percent of all online players for short handed sit and go's in the world. I would pay 500 dollars, play one other guy who also put up 500, and play until one of us got all the chips and the thousand dollars. These games would take about 10 to 20 minutes. Since we were playing the highest stakes on the site at the time, people would "rail bird" our games and try to chat with us. I remember one person telling me that I was their hero and they had been watching me play for weeks. On one site,within their online community, I was very well known for dominating the 200 to 500 dollar heads up sit and go's.<br />
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But I was masking many things behind that computer screen. I was sick and very unhealthy. My mind was one tracked and I would often torture myself over decisions that cost me large sums of money. I was in fact, numb to money. I was numb to winning. <br />
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But you never,ever become numb to losing. When I lost it would feel like an avalanche pouring down on my head. The thrill of winning never compared to the pain of losing. The turn of one card would often decide thousand dollar pots. I believed I was trapped in the game because being sick and all, it seemed like the only way to make a legitimate living. Years went by of being anti-social, distant ,and addicted to a game that in my own mind validated my worth. I knew I was good at it. Others knew I was good at it. I was finding the answers to my worthiness through this game. Today I know who I am through God.<br />
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<strong>How it all ended</strong><br />
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I started feeling God tug at my coattails about this when my girlfriend broke up with me because of the poker lifestyle, in February 2009. To this day I believe that relationship was sent as God's way of saving my life. It wasn't meant to last, but the lessons learned were meant to change eternity. <br />
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Over the course of the next few months, I battled to quit, but never achieved true victory. In July of 2009, I had an afternoon which went like this. Around noon I sat down at a table with 3000 dollars. By 3pm I had ran it up to over 14,000 dollars. By six pm, all 14,000 was gone. Between your lunch and your dinner, I had won and lost enough money to buy a brand new car. This was my tipping point. I knew I had to quit. And I knew God's grace was the only chance I had at achieving that goal. What I got a few months later was more then grace. It was a miracle.<br />
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<strong>The Miracle from Jesus</strong><br />
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I was still gambling in September, when a friend of mine from work named Billy had became extremely distraught about a breakup between him and his longtime girlfriend. I remember he was very upset and one night was texting me that he didn't see any way out of the darkness. I felt God telling me to text him about God's love. It was very, very awkward because I had never spoken to him about God at all and I was coming out of left field with it. But I text him something along the lines of "There is hope with God" and he text me back " I can't see hope in anything right now, but thanks for trying." At least the ice had been broken and God's hand had began writing the script that would save both me and Billy's lives. <br />
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A few weeks later was a night I will never forget. Things hadn't gotten any better for Billy. It was a Thursday night and my phone rang. It was Billy. I was gambling online and when I gambled online I rarely would pick up the phone. So I ignored the call and didn't think of it again..... Until the next day. <br />
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I got a phone call from another co-worker saying Billy was missing. To make a long story short, he ended up ingesting a massive amount of pills and alcohol that night in a suicide attempt. With the amount he took, for all intensive purposes, he should have died. <br />
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When I got wind of this I was shook to the core. A few weeks later when I saw him I asked him why he called me that night. We hadn't been particularly close at that point and for a few weeks I wondered If it was possible he was crying out for help to me for some reason. He told me that he didn't know why he had called me and that I was indeed the last person he thinks he tried to call. It bowled me over and instantly made complete and utter sense what God was doing. <br />
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He was using my gambling and the selfishness it had led to,to wake me up. I had laid the foundation in a struggling man's life of the love of God, and when the same man reached out to me only weeks later, I ignored him for poker. Sure I had no way of knowing that at the time. But God knew I wouldn't know until I needed to know. God knew exactly what he was doing moment by moment leading up to that night.<br />
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I confessed to Billy that I ignored his call that night because I was in a poker trance. I told him how guilty I feel and how guilty I would have felt had he died and I was the last person he had tried to, and unsuccessfully contact. As I apologized to him I knew what had to be done. A few days later I quit gambling. <br />
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<strong>And on the 40th day.....</strong><br />
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When the previously mentioned ex girlfriend broke up with me she asked me if I would quit playing poker for 40 days and see what God would show me. I snickered at the notion when she told me this. But eight months later on the 40th day of not gambling there was a small electrical fire at the group home where me and Billy worked. When the smoke alarms went off one of the clients, who usually will get up and go on command, decided that she wanted to stay in bed. So she layed in bed as the fire was put out. The overnight was usually a one staff operation and had it been a bigger fire there would have been no way to get the client out with just one person. So management decided for the next month to have 2 staff on the overnights to carry her out in case of a fire. Why they did this only for a month and why not permanently I'll never know. Well actually yes I do know. It was all God.<br />
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During that month, Billy and I worked together many times on the overnight. Just me and him. We got time together to talk and God gave me words to say to him. He allowed me to tell him the way to heaven, which is acceptance of Jesus Christ as his saviour. I had been giving a laminated print out of the Roman's Road, from a Pastor that I sought out a few months before to help me stop gambling. The Roman's road is a point by point biblical reference of why we have fallen short of heaven without Jesus, and how simple the prayer is to gain eternal glory's access. One night on the overnight I gave Billy the print out and asked him if he was ready to pray Jesus into his heart and seal his destiny. He wasn't at that particular time but said he would take it home with him. I joked that If he didn't pray it soon I was going to be extremely mad at him. He joked back that it sounded like I might blow up his car.<br />
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The next day I woke up to the most significant text message I have ever received. It simply said " I prayed it. Don't blow up my car." The man who should have been dead without ever knowing God in September, was now alive and forever stamped in the book of life in November.<br />
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God's stories are perfect. This story is perfect. He needed my attention. He needed me to stop gambling because he had things he needed me to do. His timing was perfect. He wasn't going to let Billy die that night. He knew I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. And he knew Billy was meant to be a child of his. Only God can tie this type of story together. "Quit for 40 days and see what God will do." Satan is the only one snickering now.<br />
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Since he got saved Billy has been baptized and recently married the love of his life, whom he had been so broken hearted about losing last year. She is also a born again christian. Another example of God working. That relationship had to end temporarily, so that Billy and I could be saved.<br />
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<strong>The Sovereignty of December 1st</strong><br />
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You may have figured out by now that these stories of quitting occurred between September and November and you may be wondering what makes December 1st the one year anniversary. Well I slipped up after 2 months and played once on December 1st, 2009, online. On that day I took my computer and plucked it out per say. I brought it to my sisters and told her I don't want a computer in my house anymore. <br />
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Last night on the eve of my one year anniversary I decided I wanted my computer back (without Internet), so I could type out my blogs and save them to flash drive. I was setting my computer up a little before midnight and it wouldn't work. So I pulled down an old shoebox from the top of my fridge to try to look for the re-boot disc. In a shoebox full of papers, the first thing I saw and grabbed was a small envelope. I pulled out what was inside and it was a sheet of paper torn in 3 pieces. Those 3 pieces of paper were my certificate of water baptism at my church in 2008. It had my name on it and a seal of approval with the date and a scripture verse. It's funny because In the Romans Road it says that after you get saved you should do 2 things. 1) Tell a friend. 2) Get water baptized. Billy told me he was saved, and got water baptized a few months later..... All the while I had no recollection that I had destroyed my symbol of water baptism over a poker game.<br />
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I realized as I pulled out the 3 sheets of ripped paper that I had torn it off my wall and ripped it up after an online poker loss a year or two ago. I decided to tape it back together and as I finished taping it, it hit me. I grabbed my phone to look at the time and it read, December 1st,2010: 12:05am. The time between finding it and taping it back together took about 5 minutes.<br />
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At exactly midnight on the one year anniversary of obeying God and giving up gambling, the Lord helped me find the remnants of a night of gamblings angst; and put it back together. All while trying to hook up a computer that I yanked out as a symbol of hope a year ago. Three pieces of paper torn; The Father,The Son, and The Holy Spirit. I had ripped them apart and made something else my God. And now they hang on my wall as one again. I knew that was a gift from God in that moment. His way of saying "One year Joe. One year. Do you see now how much I love you? I couldn't even wait one minute past midnight to say Happy Birthday to you. I am so proud of you." All I know is this; When God says I am proud of you so profoundly, it is a slice of heaven on earth.<br />
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For non-believers it is so easy to say that there is no proof of God and that they just can't wrap their heads around something that isn't tangible. I don't know why God has blessed me so much to ensure that I can't doubt his existence,but I am thankful. Some may think my stories and the stories above are coincidence. But knowing what God has done and how real he has shown himself to me causes me to implore any unsaved who are reading this to believe me. This is not coincidence. We are not coincidence. There are so many ways to die, but there is only one way to live after we die. Jesus is the only way to heaven. If you want to join me and Billy one day with the Lord, please pray this prayer. It's no strings attached, and it doesn't require an audience. It's not religion. Does the love I describe above sound like ritual or does it sound like love?<br />
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A year later I am a free man. I have seen 7 people come to Christ. I want 8. Satan tried to devour me through gambling and sickness. God had other plan's. Pray this prayer from the Roman's road and check out the link. I wouldn't want to have to blow up your car..... <br />
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I want to thank Jim Carpenter,Dan Wallace,my Sister,my Brother and my Mother for helping me thru the gambling years and believing I could do this the past year. I'll never forget non-chalantly showing off and blowing a hundred dollars on one spin of a roulette wheel when Jim came to visit me at the casino once and me saying " Ah well" and him quipping back, " Next time just hand it to me. My kids need clothes."<br />
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And all my mom's words of hope that I would quit one day, even as I was setting up her 600 dollar, 32 inch TV as her Christmas gift one year. I couldn't have gotten thru it without you five guys love. Here is that Roman's prayer..a link to a great song of hope and a picture of part of the taped together certificate from last night. God Bless.<br />
<strong> </strong><br />
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<strong>"Dear God, I confess that I am a sinner, and I am sorry. I need </strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>a Savior. I know I cannot save myself. I believe by faith that Jesus, your </strong><br />
<strong>Son, died on the cross to be my Savior. I believe He arose from the grave </strong><br />
<strong>to live as my Lord. I turn from my sin. I ask You, Lord Jesus, to forgive my </strong><br />
<strong>sin and come into my heart. I trust you as my Savior and receive you as </strong><br />
<strong>my Lord. Thank you, Jesus, for saving me."</strong><br />
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Link to full Roman's Road page : <a href="http://theromanroad.org/">http://theromanroad.org/</a><br />
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Link to a beautiful song of hope. I think the link only opens in full screen: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYW3eT0RZ9Y&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYW3eT0RZ9Y&feature=related</a><br />
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Taped together Scripture on certificate of water baptism: <a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=743296c1e7&view=att&th=12ca3fc85ef80388&attid=0.0&disp=inline&zw">https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=743296c1e7&view=att&th=12ca3fc85ef80388&attid=0.0&disp=inline&zw</a>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-44026691048721922972010-10-19T10:57:00.000-07:002010-10-19T11:12:27.582-07:00The Night I Turned Cliff Lee's Career Around and He Paid My Rent.Through my 3 or 4 years of playing poker for a living I ran across a few professional and collegiate athletes at my table. Tim Connolly of the Buffalo Sabres once tried goofy talking me into making a bad raise into his preflop pocket kings. I once bluffed Fred Jackson, running back for the Buffalo Bills, out of a pot of about a thousand dollars. And Paul Harris once told me, as he played his hands without looking at his cards with no regard for money, that he was going to graduate from Syracuse because he promised his Grandma he would. A year later he was opting out of his senior year and entering the NBA draft. But one of the favorite stories of my days at a poker table, or any table for that matter,is the night I spent sitting next to Cliff Lee. While he was mired in obscurity in the minor leagues playing for Buffalo, the farm team of the Cleveland Indians, he would come to the casino and play cards on free nights. It was the summer of 2007, and little did I know I was playing cards and chit chatting with a man that less then 3 years later would one of the top 3 pitchers on earth. <br />
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Somewhere around 7pm that nite, a young ,athletic looking man sat down in the seat to my right. He wore a watch that was almost as big as a baseball. He started chatting it up with the table and somebody asked him what he did for a living. The man stated he played professional baseball. The same man asked what his name was. “Cliff Lee”, he said. Then came the sound of crickets, as noone had ever heard of him except me. A few seconds later I said , “ I know you! You were on my fantasy team last year. You stunk so much I had to release you .” Cliff Lee and the whole table laughed and Cliff declared, “Ya I still stink.”<br />
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<br />
As we continued to sit next to each other we started on a private conversation. I asked him what went wrong that he was pitching in the minors after a pretty good year in the majors a few years back. He told me that the problems started a few weeks back. He was the 4th or 5th starter on the Indians roster and was the starting pitcher on Sammy Sosa night in Texas. “ I hit Sammy Sosa in the head on Sammy Sosa night and he had to leave the game,” Lee non-chalantly explained to me. “What?”, I said. “Ya, then me and Victor Martinez (Indians all star catcher at the time), got into a fist fight in the dugout. He was mad and said I threw at him on purpose.” “Did you?”, I asked. “Ya he was crowding my plate so I nailed him.” I laughed as he told me this story straight faced. “So wait you hit Sosa on Sosa night and fought your catcher, and then got sent to the minors?”. “ Ya. But also I can’t get anyone out ,and Laffey (Indians 5th starter at the time) was pitching decent and not fighting his own catcher, so they sent me down.” The man was brutally honest about his short-comings the last few years on the mound. And every few minutes as we sat next to each other that night I turned to him laughing ,saying “Really man,,,... On Sammy Sosa Night?!!?” <br />
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Here is how one newspaper detailed the night Lee hit Sosa. Notice how Lee didn't admit he hit him on purpose. Maybe I am the only one he told the truth to?<br />
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<em>"The argument escalated in the third inning when Lee hit Sammy Sosa in the head with a fastball. Sosa, honored before the game by a large delegation of family, friends and politicians from the Dominican Republic for hitting his 600th homer June 20, had to leave the game. </em><br />
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<em>Lee said he had no intention of hitting Sosa, especially in the head. Martinez reportedly was upset for Lee's lack of remorse. He felt he should have at least come to the plate to see how Sosa was doing."</em><br />
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So as the night went on we kept talking. About his family and life on the road. He told me how much he missed his kids and how hard it was to be away from them. Every few hands he stepped away from the table to use his cell phone. I asked him why his watch was the size of a small country? He asked me If I knew anywhere good to eat in this casino. “The hot dogs are nasty, stay away from the hot dogs.That’s all I know” He thanked me for the advice. <br />
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At some point in the night I felt there was an opening to actually give him a little pep talk. The way he talked about his career that night was with a big question mark and a humility that bordered on giving off a vibe that he might be ready to call it quits. Between his being away from home and not being sure if he was ever going to get back to the big leagues, I found Cliff Lee at a poker table that night with an obvious amount of self doubt for himself. As we got talking I remember apologizing for releasing him from my fantasy team. He laughed and said “ I would have released me too."<br />
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It was right around this point that I did indeed decide to give Cliff Lee a pep talk. I told him in so many terms, “ Listen, hang in there, You are a lefty,which is a valuable commodity. You are still young and you know you have great stuff. Just keep pitching hard and I know you will find yourself back in the show someday.” “Thanks man. I hope so.” <br />
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Three years later, Cliff Lee is not only back in the majors, but he has amassed the best postseason numbers to start a career of all time. Three years later Cliff Lee is arguably the best pitcher on the planet. Last night he became the 2nd postseason pitcher of all time to record 10 strikeouts in 3 postseason starts in the same season. He is 7 and 0 to start his playoff career with an Era in the low 1's. He is 55 and 25 since that night with an era in the low 3's.<br />
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That night I played a big hand one on one with Cliff Lee. I had pocket kings ( the 2nd best starting hand possible in poker),and he had a pair of sixes in the hole. We were isolated in the hand ,and on the flop came a 6, blank blank board. My kings looked good to me. He bet, I raised, he re-raised. I went into the think tank and after a few seconds decided my Kings might be good and I was going to put my last 3 or 4 hundred into the pot . (Really a bad read by me all things considered) <br />
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It was then that Cliff Lee did something I have never seen anyone do at a poker table before. He turned his sixes over and showed me what he had. (He had an unbeatable set of sixes.) He said to me “ Save your money kid , I got you crushed.” This minor league baseball pitcher decided to spare me a ton of money, in a kind act of humanity. I said “Thanks a lot Cliff Lee, you saved me a ton.” The whole table was stunned that he spared me. Cliff Lee just went on with his business. I wonder if he had mercy on me because he was flattered that not only did I know who he was ,but I believed in his future.<br />
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When he left the table around midnight he made a point to shake all ten people at the table’s hands. He made his way out , and I never saw him again. As I watched him ascend the next few years into one of the most savvy and talented pitchers in the major’s , I have always glowed at his successes as if he was a special friend of mine. <br />
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Did my pep talk that night turn around his floundering career and bring his wayward mind back to a place of hope and belief? I don’t think so. But your dog gone right until he refutes it, I am forever going to jokingly gloat that I turned Cliff Lee into the monster he is today. And through his selfless kindness in that one hand, I can also tell people “ Hey did I tell you about the time Cliff Lee paid my rent for me ? " <br />
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Yankee fans everywhere can blame me for this today if they want to. And they can also thank me in November when he puts on the pinstripes.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-24378269978329393012010-09-25T13:28:00.000-07:002011-06-21T21:43:23.288-07:00Pastor Albert GerhardtI recently took a course through my now former employer entitled, "Crucial Conversations." It was a class designed to get you ready for the important conversations that will arise in your day to day life. The most striking fact I recall from the 10 or so hours of this class was that 93 percent of what we take out of human interaction is not the actual conversational quotes. That means that only 7 percent of what we take away from an exchange, albeit social, casual, or professional, is the actual quotable dialogue. We remember tone, intent, body language,and unspoken vibe.<br />
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True to this statistic, my pastor from 1989 to 2004, Al Gerhardt, left his mark in my life mostly based on his actions and the way he carried himself. Probably the most prevalent quote I can recall of him is his enthusiastic "Hey Joe" when he saw me. I can't really reiterate all the profound or exact words of hope he spoke to me over the course of 15 years. I only recall bits and pieces. What I remember so clearly however is the lessons learned from observing his conduct, kindness, and intense love for Jesus Christ.<br />
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He was gentle with me at times and firm in tough love at other times. But the common denominator was his portrayal of Christ's love. I feel unworthy of even writing about him, as I know there are hundreds of others who were closer to him than me. The following are a few memories and thoughts from observation and direct contact with the man most of us so eloquently referred to as "Pastor Al."<br />
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My memory of Al Gerhardt passes through two different eras of my life, as well as two very different perspective's of him; One perspective falsely concocted and one dead on accurate. The first 10 years or so I knew him were based off of reverence that I doubled as intimidation. The last couple years were merely based from excitement and appreciation just knowing the man.<br />
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<b>"Here He Comes. He Can See Right Through Me. I Better Go the Other Way."</b><br />
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As a young child and right through my teenage years, I was scared of him. It was a self created fear. He was the face of God in my life, and quite frankly I was not sure how I felt about God, or how God felt about me. I didn't fear Pastor Al because of anything he did or said, but I was intimidated by what he represented. <br />
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In Mitch Albom's "Have A Little Faith",Albom describes his childhood Rabbi as someone that was a figurehead that embedded fear and quivering inside of him. It was only later in his life that he got to know him as a man first and a Rabbi second. <br />
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I could relate to Albom's portrayal because that was much the same timeline I had with Pastor Al. I swore he must have been able to see all the sins I had committed when he looked at me. Of course my imagination was erroneous looking back now. But all I saw back then was God when I saw Al. It's funny because later in his life I still saw the exact same thing in him, only my emotion changed from fear to peace. I think I had trouble relating to him in my youth because of the following fact: If I hadn't made friends with God yet, how would I make friends with the human face of God in my life.<br />
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<b>His First Gift to Me</b><br />
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Somewhere around 1990, I received my first gift from Pastor Al. It was in the form of a Christian sports magazine called "Sports Spectrum." He sent it in the mail to me knowing my love for sports as a 10 year old child. These magazines would come with stories of Christian athletes and their fierce faith. They spoke life into me at a very young age and commanded my attention because they were a gift from the most Godly man I knew. Often times the subject of the magazine surprised me, leaving me saying "He is a Christian?” about the athlete on the cover. Magazine after magazine came in every month, Pastor Al renewing my subscription every year.......for six years.<br />
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<b>His Sunday Morning Ambiance</b><br />
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I remember on most Sunday mornings, shortly after worship would start, Al would stroll into the sanctuary with his Bible under his arm. Did he come in alone and late in hopes of making a symbolic grand entrance? Hardly. I remember hearing once that he usually would walk in late because he put so much stock in prayer that he would pray for the service in a back room until he heard the worship music begin.<br />
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I remember he would usually turn around at some point during worship to see who was in attendance. The look on his face as he scanned the room could best be described as auspicious. I would describe it as an appreciative and humbled awe at what the Lord had entrusted him with. He always let the Holy Spirit move in his services,but also was always sure to bring some sort of word from The Bible even during mornings of spirit led revival.<br />
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<b>Studying the Man's Unspoken Nuances</b><br />
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When I was a teenager I loved watching him conduct himself. I remember thinking to myself over the years, "Does his hair ever move?" and "What size shoes is that?"<br />
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I spoke in church this past May about overcoming my addiction to poker. Before I went up I knew I wanted to somehow mention Pastor Al's name and give him props. So I decided I would play Al's " Your testimony is going too long, how can I tell you this without getting up and grabbing the microphone" card. <br />
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I remember Sunday mornings where people would go up to the altar and give testimony about what the Lord was doing in their life. Al would sometimes mention the importance of brevity, but a lot of times that notion fell on deaf ears. I always had a timer in my head as people shared and tried to guess when Al would start squirming. I was pretty good at hitting the nail on the head in this category. I never wanted it to come to that but once it did I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. He would uncross his leg and switch over to the other leg, look at his watch repeatedly, and do a fake cough routine. Anything to get the person's attention and let them know, “Hey I got a tee time at 2 o' clock." Sometimes the speaker would get the unspoken vibe and other times not. But I loved the fact he was so human and to me at least, so funny about it. <br />
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So in May, after about five minutes of giving my testimony I decided it was time to deliver the Pastor Al line. I said to the congregation of which maybe less then half actually had known him, “I have to wrap this up now. I can hear Pastor Al doing his fake cough in my mind." I loved the fact I could acknowledge the person who made it possible for everyone in that room to be there. I loved that I got to drop his name in front of a full room....I loved that people were thinking of him and laughing.<br />
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<b>“I Have to Mow his Lawn? What if I Miss a Blade?"</b><br />
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In the summer of 1994, I was 14 years old and my family found itself living in the same apartment complex as Pastor Al. He occasionally would pick me up and take me to church on a Wednesday night for revival meetings. During the 6 years we lived in the same complex, I was often volunteered by my Mom to mow his lawn. He had a small yard and a manual, non-engined mower.<br />
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The job literally took me about 10 minutes to do. I remember on one particular hot day, looking over as I was rolling the mower and seeing him standing at the sliding glass door. In my mind I was panicked and sure he was scrutinizing my work. I probably started mowing nervously in crooked lines as he stood there. After a few seconds of watching, he opened the door and said to me, “Don’t forget to come in for iced tea when you're done."...... The face of God had spoken. And strangely enough, he was more concerned about my well-being then his grasses cosmetics.<br />
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<b>July 31, 1996</b><br />
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I don't know how I remember the date, I just do. My best friend Jim Carpenter and I were known for our petty, girlish fights. We would argue about the dumbest things as if they were life or death, then not speak for awhile afterwards. During this particular time period we hadn't talked in the longest amount of time we had ever gone. My mom set us up to get us back together. He came over to my house on this summer day and asked me if I wanted to go golfing. We set out to Webster golf course to play a round.<br />
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I remember we were still angry at each other and were bickering quite a bit still.As we headed towards one particular hole we saw Pastor Al up ahead of us, pulling his clubs with a hand cart golfing alone.We debated for a few moments whether we should go up to him and converse. I remember thinking," If he asks us to join,we won't be able to curse after a bad shot the rest of the day; and worst of all Jim are I are going to have to pretend that we don't hate each other right now." <br />
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We decided to hurry along and catch up to him to say "hi". He asked us if we would like to join him and we did. It was not long, before Pastor Al was displeased with one of his shots and started talking to himself. - "Al, You have got to be kidding me. What were you thinking? You are playing terrible golf."<br />
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Throughout the day he berated himself as such after a 'bad' shot. Jim and I laughed about it afterwards because we were so worried about not being able to beat ourselves up while golfing with the pastor, and it turned out he did enough self-scolding for all three of us. He must have beaten us each by 20 strokes and also through pastoral osmosis, Jim and I were getting along great.<br />
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<b>Always There at the Lowest Points</b><br />
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When I was 17 years old I became plagued with a difficult digestive disease that left me bed ridden many a time. Over the next 5 years my mom would call Pastor Al on my most dire nights to ask for prayer. He would often head right over to my house and pray with me. Sometimes he would come alone and other times he would bring the elders with him. <br />
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One time in particular I was more depressed than sick. He came over and sat with me one on one in the living room. I lived in the basement of my parents house and I remember being so sick and depressed that I wouldn't come up for days. <br />
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I remember when I came upstairs on this day that the sun piercing through the blinds had made my vision distorted. I must have not seen the sun in weeks. I slept during the day and stayed up all night. I remember before I could even adjust my eyes to the light Pastor Al was speaking life into me. I don't remember exact words but the gist was “Do you believe God has something better planned for you? Do you believe he is able to save you from death?" <br />
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I want to say that the man always knew exactly what to say, but the fact I don't have a lot of direct quotes on him specifically makes me more apt to say this; the man always knew how to love you.<br />
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<b>Goodbye Intimidation</b><br />
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There was about a 5 year span where I was very sick, and it was only towards the end of my sickness that my childhood intimidation of him ceased. I worked at a deli in Webster where he shopped and sadly enough, I remember sometimes I would see him coming around the bend and I would hide in the back room. I figured I had nothing good or Godly to report to him, so what would I talk about?<br />
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It was towards the end of that period of time that I stopped hiding in the back room and started embracing him. I recall on more than one occasion asking my boss if I could take my break and going up to the diner to have coffee with Al. The man I had so hastily and erroneously labeled as overwhelmingly intimidating,was suddenly my friend.<br />
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<b>His Second Gift to Me</b><br />
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I ended up being hospitalized a few times and the first one to join me there after my immediate family was always Pastor Al.<br />
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In 2001 I had a bad reaction to a drug and had a temperature of over 107 degrees, ending up in the intensive care unit of Genesee Hospital. He came down to pray with me in the unit and the next Sunday I gave testimony of how God saved my life. <br />
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Al prayed for me after my testimony and I still have the audio tape, one that I played last week for the first time in many years in preparation for writing this piece. It was my first time hearing his voice in so long and is my only documented audio of him.<br />
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He spoke words over me that 9 years later mean more than they ever have. He said “Joe, the Lord is asking you, do you love me? And you are saying 'Yes Lord, I love you.' And The Lord is saying to you “I love you Joe. Never have any doubt in your mind that I love you. I have always loved you. And I want to take you out of this place of sickness. But it's all contingent on you walking out this love relationship with me."<br />
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He went on to talk about how God promises to take me out of this wilderness of illness if I only will allow him to and trust him. As I listened to it recently I couldn't help but get teary-eyed. His voice was so gentle, and his passion so evident. It's fitting that the only documented audio I have of Pastor Al is him speaking in the role of Jesus.<br />
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<b>His Third Gift to Me</b><br />
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Sometime during the years of illness, Pastor Al brought me a handkerchief. He told me that it was representative of the hem of Jesus’ garment as documented in the Bible. He said when I feel alone and overcome by illness I could hold onto it as if I was holding onto Jesus himself. As I write this, I am familiarizing myself with the story behind the garment in the Bible. <br />
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The story goes that a woman had had an issue of bleeding for 12 years. As the masses tried to get Jesus attention as he walked through the village, the woman reached out and touched the hem of his garment and was immediately healed. I am just realizing now that it has been 12 plus years for me dealing with a disease whose first symptom was loss of blood. I only last week, not having yet familiarized myself with the story of the woman in the Bible, heard God tell me to proclaim that I am healed of all digestive disease.(Five months after I wrote this I was indeed healed of Crohn's Disease, as a doctor told me he couldn't find a trace of it every existing in my body. Hallelujah.)<br />
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Looking back perhaps the handkerchief was a prophetic gift. I always held that handkerchief near and dear to my heart not only because it was a gift from Al, but it represented my hope in one day being healed. Sometime after he died I lost the handkerchief. I remember searching deep and wide for it many a time. To this day if I could find just one thing I ever lost it would be that handkerchief.<br />
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<b>His Final Gift to Me</b><br />
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In June of 2004 Al Gerhardt passed away from complications of cancer. The sanctuary was so packed with people for his funeral that the church streamed the service on closed circuit television into another room in the church. As some of his grandson's carried out his casket, there was not a dry eye in the building. <br />
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A year or two after his death my mom had mentioned to his daughter, Joy, that I was having trouble seeing small print due to the years of steroid use affecting my vision. Joy asked her if I wanted a bible that had large print. It was a Bible Pastor Al had bought later in his life because of the larger print being easier to see. Joy gave my mom the Bible to give to me. I can't express my gratitude to be able to own one of the last Bibles that this ultimate man of God had owned. <br />
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In this Bible there is only one spot where he had hand written in it. It is written in pencil, with two verses in it at the bottom of Ephesians 2. Ephesians 2:8 and Isaiah 65:1, and they are as follows. Ephesians 2:8- "For by grace you have been saved through faith and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God." Isaiah 65:1 - “I was sought by those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. I said 'Here I am, here I am,' to a nation that was not called by my name." <br />
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Both verses are representative of how unworthy we are of God and how his grace is so precious. How appropriate that in the last years of his life, in perhaps the last Bible he ever owned in perhaps the last markings he ever documented in a Bible, his notes were in regards to how humble we should feel to be receiving God's grace. It is so fitting because when I had finally got past my false image of intimidation, what I found most in Pastor Al was a humble and thankful Christian.<br />
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I mentioned earlier that he used to get antsy when testimonies would drag on Sunday mornings and joked about him being late for his tee time. I think its important to point out he wasn't trying to move things along for his own reasons, but he was just always cognizant of keeping things in the realm of the Holy Spirit’s flow for the service. As I mentioned above, he was humbled by what God had given him and always aware of God's presence.<br />
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In writing this, I was thinking about when we get to heaven and if we get to request to be able to see and spend time catching up with certain people that have had an impact on our lives on this earth. If this is how it happens I have a feeling Al Gerhardt doesn't get many periods up there where he is not "looked up." The people whose lives he had an impact on are countless,as is I am sure are the amount of people he led to Christ that want to thank him for the glory that has been revealed through his outreaching. <br />
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I know when I get there he will be on the top of my list of people to look up. What will I do when I see him? Maybe just give him a gentle hug and a whisper of "Thank you." I will try to keep it brief, but who am I kidding, no I wont.<br />
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I guess I'll find out quickly if there are wrist watches and fake coughs in heaven.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-26064401422933035332010-08-24T12:36:00.000-07:002013-06-21T13:18:24.087-07:00Finally A Funny One :How Not To Handle a Loaded Gun In Your Face: The Story of the Night I Got Robbed with Sawed Off Shotguns.On June 19 1999, my beloved Buffalo Sabres lost game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals. They lost the series 4 games to 2 and were victims of a goal in the 3rd overtime of game 6 that shouldn't have been allowed due to an in the crease violation. Had the Sabres found a way to win that game I would have been watching a 7th and decisive game that Tuesday the 22nd. Instead I was at a park in Penfield, New York getting robbed at loaded gunpoint.<br />
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Three of my friends ( Jim, Joe, and Josh) and I went to Linear Park about 9pm in the evening to hang out. We were there no longer then five minutes when a group of 4 guys came up to us pretending to want to fraternize. The introductory statement came in a bizarre request that I didn't understand-" Hey, you guys got any trees?" I found out later that trees was the cool way to ask if we had any marijuana cigarettes. One friend picked up on the lingo quickly and proclaimed we were pot free on this night.<br />
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Well the boys were not happy that we weren't able to provide them with any of that "Kind Bud." So the next words out one of their mouths were "Well let's see what you DO have." Two of them pulled out shotguns and stuck them in my friend Joe and Josh's faces. Me and my best friend Jim were lucky enough to not have a shotgun in our faces. For the moment.<br />
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My friend Joe was a tough kid, who didn't put up with any nonsense. He was the type that if he wasn't on your side you better run fast and never look back. His first reaction to the shotgun in his face was to swat it out of his face. This didn't please the ringleader of the group,Michael P. Sheheen. He was running the show and he had 2 other Einstein's in charge of the shotgun's. When Joe swatted it, Sheehan exhorted that this was " not a game" and told his cohort to "bust". <br />
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I was learning all kinds of new terms on this night. "Trees" meant weed,and apparently "bust" meant shoot the gun into the grass to show us it's loaded. When the kid tried to shoot the ground to show us the gun was packed, He couldn't get it to shoot. So Shaheen implored the other gun wielder to shoot his gun to show us it was loaded. Gunman number 2 failed just as miserably as gunman number one. Neither could figure out their guns. Apparently these hijackers didn't believe in dry runs.<br />
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At this time, I remember 2 thoughts came into my mind. One was that the gun's were indeed loaded. Two was that the guys holding them to our heads didn't know how to use them. I began to repent of my sins and prepared to see Jesus momentarily.<br />
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After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to use his loaded rifle on the grass,Shaheen told gunman number 2 to forget it and suggested that they just point them back at our heads so they could continue on with the robbery. This was the part where the gun now was pointed at my brain for the first time. <br />
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Joe had settled down a bit now that he saw that the guns were likely loaded and the gun toter's were more than likely idiots. So they proceeded to tell us to put all our money and belongings from our pocket's into one of their hat's. Between the four of us they got 48 bucks. When you count the overweight robber they left in the get away car due to his inability to run, there were five robbers. That's a whopping 9 dollars and 75 cents each. And to think, Mcdonald's was hiring.<br />
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Well in all actuality the thieves would have gotten an extra 20 bucks and keys to a new car had my friends been honest victims............ <br />
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Not to be outdone by Joe swatting a loaded rifle out of his face to try to salvage his 17 bucks, Jim and Josh decided to be cute during the string of events.<br />
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While the young men were trying to figure out how to use their guns, Jim knew that his money was soon to be at risk. He was a minimum wage "Yo-Yo" operator at Sea Breeze who's friends (me) regularly stiffed him on gas money. He decided it would be a good idea to preserve the larger bills and only give the robbers the 1's and 5's. He took the lone 20 dollar bill out of his pocket and inconspicuously stuck his 20 dollar bill down his backside and placed it on top of his posterior.<br />
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Not to be outdone, my friend Josh Demille decided when the gunmen asked for everything in his pocket that he was not giving up his car keys. Now don't get me wrong, I understand this to some degree- It was a new car and was pretty nifty looking. So afterwards when we asked Josh what he would have done if they demanded his car keys he said, " I would have let us all get shot before I gave up the keys to my new car." Brilliant. When we asked him how his dead, lifeless corpse would drive his car he had no answers but still insisted on principle he would have never given up his car keys. <br />
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After the robber's got our 48 dollars they ran off and what do ya know, Joe went after them on foot. When later questioned about his decision to chase loaded gunmen over 17 dollars, he stated " It's the principle of it. Nobody robs me." <br />
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Joe chased them across town by foot, then hopped into a car that he stopped on 441 and told them to "Follow that car!",and finally by foot again. He swears that a bullet zoomed past his head at one point and the cops later did find a bullet in the a field. He actually called the cops as he chased the robbers and they ended up catching the thieves in a field in East Rochester. <br />
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The robbers all got sentenced to jail time. The ring leader got upwards of 20 years in prison. If not for Joe chasing them across town they probably would have gotten away with it because we couldn't see their faces in the dark and had no way of giving a proper identification.<br />
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Later in the night as we waited to be interviewed by police , three of us headed to Denny's to get some food. Where did we get the money to pay for it you ask? We had just been robbed and at the age of 18 didn't have credit cards. Well, Jim's refusal to abandon his 20 dollars paid dividends. Yes the backside 20 was put into circulation only hours after visiting Jim's inside back "pocket". That poor waitress never knew what hit her.<br />
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Life is funny. Had the Sabres not been cheated 3 nights before we wouldn't have been in that position. Had these robbers not robbed the one guy in Rochester that was willing to swat a gun out of his face and chase loaded gunmen across town on principle alone, they would have not ended up in jail. <br />
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I get flack from my 3 friends to this day for not doing anything exciting in that moment such as hiding a 20 dollar bill in my butt crack or swatting a loaded gun out of my face. I was the loser who stared at the ground in the face of a gun instead of trying to pull some against the grain theatric. <br />
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But thanks to my irreplaceable friends, at the end of the night I was lucky enough to have a ride home in a shiny new red car, with a full belly and a story to tell. And in the end isn't every situation worth it if it results in having a good story to tell? As long as you live to tell about it. joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-58966793579674222372010-08-23T13:43:00.000-07:002010-08-23T13:48:29.813-07:00The Goal we strive for is described in this song. The prayer that gets us there is below it.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI_1YliutzA&feature=related<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"God, I recognize that I have not lived my life for You up until now. I have been living for myself and that is wrong. I need You in my life; I want You in my life. I acknowledge the completed work of Your Son Jesus Christ in giving His life for me on the cross at Calvary, and I long to receive the forgiveness you have made freely available to me through this sacrifice. Come into my life now, Lord. Take up residence in my heart and be my king, my Lord, and my Savior. From this day forward, I will no longer be controlled by sin, or the desire to please myself, but I will follow You all the days of my life. Those days are in Your hands. I ask this in Jesus' precious and holy name. Amen <br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI_1YliutzA&feature=related"></a>joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-62774734847301257922010-08-23T12:05:00.000-07:002011-07-21T19:18:17.268-07:00The "Oxymoronicness" of Defining "God is Good" in our own termsFor years I tried to define what "God is good" was supposed to mean. I remember being alone,sick,and depressed on many occasions and cursing him for ever making me. It was only when I was in agonizing pain I would cry out to him like he was my own hired hand. I can recount years in which I only looked to God if I was in actual physical pain. "Hey God, I have no use for you unless I'm desperately hurting and need some relief." And the funny thing was, he always answered.<br />
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I was in a place for a decade or so that I used God for my own benefit. Instead of having a relationship with him or letting him use me for eternal changes, I abused him as a lifeline.<br />
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One time in 2003, I ate popcorn and it got stuck in my digestive tract making a turn in the "J" portion of my "J pouch." It was the most agonizing pain I ever felt in my life and that's saying something for someone who had a stomach ache for almost 5 years straight. I was sprawled out on the hallway floor for the better part of an hour writhing in pain. Finally I heard the still small voice of the Lord say , " How about you ask me to help?". So I did. The pain left immediately...Immediately. I thanked God and forgot about him until I was in pain again. <br />
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I was defining "God is good" in my own terms. My definition was God is good when I need him or he is good when my life is "good." I was unable to see his constant willingness to be good because I had created a man made version of God. Talk about an oxymoron... "Hey God. Come and hang out on my terms, then go away until I need relief again. Thanks man. Well done Good and faithful God,enter into the joy of my human needs."<br />
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We get in trouble in life when we have flesh driven expectation of God. Why do so many people turn from God when a loved one dies, or a marriage fails, or we are wronged by a human in some form. Allot of times I think we forget that this is not heaven. If things went "perfectly good" on this earth, what would we have to look forward to in heaven?<br />
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Last year I got transferred from one job to another after reporting improprieties at a house I was working at . It felt wrong being transferred because I didn't do anything wrong. I asked God why this would happen when he knew I was right and management was wrong. I was trying to bargain with God about what was good and what was bad. "God, Did you get confused and think I was wrong? Did you forget that I was fighting for the least of these?" My mind was playing games on me about his goodness. I was mad at God for allowing this to happen. Another oxymoron minus the oxy.<br />
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In the next year I realized why God had me transferred. I made relationships with people at my new job that were fruitful and everlasting. I saw 3 people come to Christ at the new house. After the last person whom God set me up with to witness to had got saved,I got a new job. His timing is perfect. His work was done at this house...Oh wait, God knew what he was doing when I got wronged and transferred? Really?<br />
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God put these people in my life. Then in my heart. Then gave me the ability and timeliness to help show them his love. This never would have happened had "God is good" been defined by my logic. I would have wallowed in the previous house, not sowing any seeds. <br />
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God is good even when you are being wronged by the world? God is good even when today absolutely appears to suck? It's all in your perception. And for so many years I had deception in my perception.<br />
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When someone dies before their time, or even after their time,so often people get mad at God. We forget the fact that if we had a chance to ask our loved one if they would want to come back to earth they would laugh at you and say no way. We forget that 18 years old is no different to God then 90 years old. That the stories and trickle downs of lives lived, and their forthcoming eternal ramifications, transcends time.<br />
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"Time exists,but just on your wrist's,so don't panic." God wants us to know that this earth is not heaven and he is begging us to not try to define it as such. Imagine if "God is good" translated into our own ideal life on earth. We would get to heaven and feel ripped off and confused. "Wait, I got everything I wanted on earth,so how is heaven set apart?"<br />
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If there was no afterlife I could see how we could easily get angry at God for taking a loved one from us or allowing us to be sick. But talk about oxymoron again. Without an afterlife,there would be no God to get mad at.<br />
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I have talked to so many people who try to define "God is good" in their own terms and end up angry at him. I looked at one in the mirror for 15 years. It's one of Satan's greatest weapons; Confusing the human spirit into thinking that God might only be good some of the time,or even worse: That God isn't good at all. All the while letting it take place in our own convoluted man made dictionary. Last I checked, "Webster" or "Merriam" didn't rise from the dead on the third day.<br />
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I read recently that it is better to be healed then cured. In my new reality I am healed of all my ailments. I may not be cured yet. I may not be cured on this earth,but I am healed because my circumstance lulls in comparison to what God has done and what he will do. Would I take an instant cure to all my problems right now if it meant I was not healed? Never. By his stripes we are healed. I now know why that passage doesn't say "By his stripes we are cured." We must be healed first. And healing takes place in our perception. Our true cure comes when we get to heaven and see the beauty of the face of Jesus. <br />
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I know of so many tragedies that result in either turning on God or turning to God.One extreme or another. I believe the direction people choose is primarily based on who tries to define God's goodness and who accepts his goodness has a definition Webster's dictionary does not contain. The people who hold the most power for the eternal good of God's kingdom are the people who have suffered loss. There is power in the story of your suffering that people yearn to hear.<br />
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I know of a recent tragedy that has led countless souls to Christ. The person whose earthly life has been lost is happy in his arms. Because of it and the trickle down that God has allowed,many more will join him one day. Beauty for ashes. In God's time. Because time only exists in eternity. <br />
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I am thankful God allowed me to use God for so many years. I am thankful he let me yell at him and curse him. I was not struck down by lightning. I was not banished to hell. God is good even when I am not. I am thankful that he stuck with me when I wanted nothing to do with him. <br />
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So many people ask how a good God would allow such bad things to happen to us. They hem and haw and turn to the things of the world as God sits and waits in the same place he was when things were "good." He weeps at our confusion. He yearns for our return.<br />
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I leave you with this challenge. Don't define "God is good." I have been challenged in how I pray lately. I don't want to ask for things specifically because if its not in my best interest (And only God knows my best interest), and it doesn't happen because of it,Then it would be easy to get mad at the Lord. <br />
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I have learned to just pray for his will allot more lately then specific things that the human mind defines as "good." What more could you want then his will? A job? Health? Money? Don't be silly. Don't write your own definition. <br />
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In the end the only dictionary that will exist is a book of names..In it will be names of those who have chosen Jesus. You can put your name in it today. Because God is always good and your destiny is promised the moment you accept that as fact and ask Jesus into your life. Until you see him face to face in a place that neither oxymoron's or moron's exist, we can't define "good" by human standards. One day you will understand that he is and was good all along. I only hope you can make that day today.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-44662911334805110042010-08-20T07:54:00.001-07:002010-08-20T07:55:19.090-07:00in practice for my book of life's short storires im gonna start writing alot of short stuff ,feel free to delete yourself now.My first memory in life is putting a spoon in the garbabe disposal when I was 3 years old. I can still remember the sound of the grinding metal, and the fear and embarassment it instilled in me. In the midst of my tears there was a voice of calm and love to comfort me. With a laundry basket in one hand and me in the other, My maternal Grandmother held me as I cried. She told me everything would be alright. I only have a few concrete memories of her, but still to this day I recall her as one of the most gentle and loving people I ever came in contact with. I hope one day I can comfort my Grandchildren with half the grace she did on this day in 1983.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-38331436310762901332010-08-20T07:43:00.000-07:002010-08-20T07:52:09.484-07:00the day i started measuring my thighs on graph paper.Unlike most people who want to be skinny, I Loathed it. I used to tell my best friend that I desired to be so fat that they would have to weld two desks together in school for my lard butt to fit in. I was very skinny in my teenage years and I was self conscious about it. I took weight gainer formulas and didn't wear shorts once in public after the age of 13. I thought my legs were disgustingly skinny. And they likely were. I remember in 8th grade walking out to the field for gym in shorts and I swore I heard 2 girls snickering about how gross my skinny legs were. Well that was it for me. My legs disappeared for about 15 years. Now to make up for it I wear shorts in the winter. I love my legs now. How am I still single with these caliber of sexy legs only God knows. But I think to make clear my obsession as a child I'll leave you with this . I used to trace my thighs on graph paper from week to week to see if they were growing. I still have the outlines. They never got wider in those days. It was frustrating. It's amazing how your mind can play tricks on you as a teenager. It's part of the reason I want to speak at youth groups to tell kids the truth about themselves and not what their convuleted minds and peers say. I think my 'skinny legs' were the start of my loss of self esteem and the subsuquent health issues. I am pretty sure I was the only one ever to measure their legs on graph paper in hopes of becoming fat though. And being unique is always fun. God bless.joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8791541192155290400.post-73003125967350429512010-08-13T13:16:00.000-07:002010-08-17T13:30:18.944-07:00I apparently am the main suspect in the theft of a laptop computer,,and God is still good.It's funny because I have been working on an article about the potential eternal ramifications of trying to define the term " God is good." Yesterday, I also started writing about the only time I was victim of a robbery. Then today the 2 subjects assimiliated into a real life scenario in my life. I am for all intensive purposes the main suspect in a theft of a developmentally disabled man's computer. And in all honesty, if I was doing the investigation I would think I was guilty. I even told the police investigator such. Allow me to explain.<br /><br />I work for Arc of Monroe County. It's an agency that supports the developmentally handicapped. It's my last week of work there as I got a job with New York State doing the same thing.<br /><br />In May I had to approve my timecard electronically so I stopped by an Arc house I have never been to before. It was the closest house to my apartment so that's why I went to that one to do it. I spent about 30 second there and left.<br /><br />In June I picked up some overtime in that very same house. My first shift there was a Sunday. At the end of my shift I picked up a man from his mom's house, dropped him off back at the group home,and went home.<br /><br />Turns out that that weekend that same man's 800 dollar laptop was stolen out of his room. He uses the laptop to communicate as he is inaudible.<br /><br />I was called down to work a few weeks ago to answer questions about this theft. I told them I don't know anything about it and didn't think about it again until today.<br /><br />Today I was called down to be interviewed by a person working in between the Arc and the Police. He is working for both and is deciding whether or not to press charges.<br /><br />He told me that the man from the group home has implemented that I was the one who stole the computer. This man allegedly told police the following " In May, A good friend came into my room to use my bathroom because his stomach hurt,and I saw him staring at my computer. His name was Joe and he came back in June and stole my computer. But he is a good friend."<br /><br />This guy doesn't speak audibly. He also has no clue what my name is as I only worked with him for about an hour total in the 3 shifts I worked at this house. So he typed all this information out on a computer apparently?<br /><br />So knowing that I didn't steal the computer and that God is in control, I decided to tell this go between investigator that it looks really bad for me and I would think I did it to if I was investigating this case.<br /><br />Here are some things I told him that make me look really bad here.<br /><br />-----" It was my first time working in the house so of course I look like the bad apple who came in and stole it."<br /><br />----- " It's funny he said I came into his room with stomach problems because I have a bowel disease."<br /><br />------ " I don't even own a computer at home because I got rid of it when I quit gambling" Hahaha. ( Hello , gambler who has no money needs a computer to gamble so he steals one from work?"<br /><br />------ " I look really guilty here, this is a perfect way to end my 7 years at the Arc"<br /><br />Here are some of the things I said that make me look innocent:<br /><br />----- " Do you think I'm enough of an idiot to steal a computer the first time I work somewhere?"<br /><br />------ " Don't you think whoever stole it did so on the first day a new staff worked there to make it look like the new staff? (The 'Commish' would be proud of me on this one)<br /><br />------ " How the heck does this man implicate me when he doesn't even know my name? Somebody fed him this information"<br /><br />------ " God is in control."<br /><br />I proceeded to tell him about my past and how I was sick and made a living gambling. Sure it looks bad for me in the cut and dry, but I try not to live in the cut and dry anymore. I told him since I quit gambling I have seen people get saved. It was funny. I basically was incriminating myself on purpose by telling the truth about things, and then implementing God's will above all else. Ah my life is very interesting indeeed. Who says "normal" is where it's at?<br /><br />Basically I look guilty, and I don't care. God is in control. Even if I end up being charged with something there is a reason. Maybe there is someone who's path I need to come across because of this. I have such apathy for life without God that I actually am excited a little bit that I'm so obviously the lead suspect in a petty larceny case. Hahhaha.Who cares what happens if it's in his hands. "Meaningless,utterly meaningless. Everything under the sun is meaningless without God"<br /><br />He said to call him in 2 weeks because he is on vacation. He said there is a 50/ 50 chance they will ask me to do a lie detector test.<br /><br />So I will be in limbo about this for the next month or so. I told him I start with the State In 2 weeks and really hope this doesn't interfere with my job. He made sure to point out I am not being charged or suspected. But come on , it looks like I did it. And I told him so. (haha)<br /><br />I know God has his hand on my life. I know I'm protected by his blood that was shed. I know I didn't steal the computer. It feels like a type of setup because I did indeed stop in the house in May to punch my time in and I do have bowel issues. So the client's story seems to add up in a very eerie way. Conceievably I could have went into his room in May to use his bathroom. It just boggles my mind at this point to think how bad this looks for me.<br /><br />Maybe I'll go to jail. . Maybe in Jail I'll fall in love with a female prison guard and get married and serve gruel sandwiches at my wedding reception. Maybe in jail I'll proclaim my innocence over an in house double feature movie of "The Fugitive" and " Shawshank Redemption." Maybe in jail God will save a soul.<br /><br />Of course I'm kidding about jail. I know It's not going to come to that. But my therapy for the moment on this issue, is alot of trust in God and a little blogging.<br /><br />Until this is resolved I'm just going to procaim to all that will listen that the one armed man did it. God is good all the time. I'm just learning not to define "Good."joeyd5641http://www.blogger.com/profile/14137916613883115768noreply@blogger.com0