Sara and I just returned from our trip to Nicaragua.  The trip was a success.  Three practitioners saw 813 patients in five days and the pharmacists filled over 1800 prescriptions.  Hundreds of lives were impacted and the grandparents made it just fine with the kids on the home front (thanks grandparents!).

 It was quite an adventure.  We flew into Managua and drove about 150 miles north to the mountainous region of Jinotega, which serves as our base while in Nicaragua.  From there, we journeyed out to some of the remote villages that lacked sufficient medical care and set up clinics. 

Some of the travel was quite interesting.  One of the areas we visited, Puertas Azules, was about a 2.5 hour drive from Jinotega – 30 minutes of which was paved roads.  The rest was mud and rock.  We crossed a river in our four-wheel-drive truck and scaled a mountain on a muddy road with a precipitous drop just beside the road. 

There are many images that will stay in my head from my trips to Nicaragua, but one in particular occurred when we dropped off the garbage at a dump.  When you go to the dump, you literally drive over a mountain of trash.  Amongst the garbage, you can see little shacks where people actually live.  As we slowed down, two kids – probably 6 and 8 years old – came running to the truck and jumped into the bed before the truck came to a stop.  They pulled the garbage bags out of the truck and eagerly ripped the bags open looking for food.

When we turned the truck around, I saw two dogs arrive at the scene.  As we drove away, I saw two children fighting off two dogs so they could eat garbage.  Images like that don’t go away.  What if those were my children?  What if they were your children?  We can stick our heads in the mud and pretend that this sort of thing doesn’t exist… maybe that will keep it from being real in our world, but to these kids it’s an everyday experience.

Some people question how God could allow this sort of thing to go on.  Just remember – we live in a fallen world.  Despite the fact that we live in a fallen world, the same God that allows these people to live in such deplorable conditions also put people like you and me here – people with the means and the ability to do something about it.  You have to choose to make a difference – it won’t just happen automatically.

I’ll post some photos next week after I have some time to get everything downloaded.  Until then, take some time to be thankful for what you have.  You have no idea how rich you are.

Sara and I are getting ready to go to Nicaragua for a Medical Brigade.  This will be the first time that we have gotten to go together on a mission trip and we are very excited about it.  The grandparents are teaming up to watch the kids while we’re gone and I think they are tentatively looking forward to it.

Here’s some advice for them while we’re gone.

• ·         If you think it’s chocolate but aren’t sure, don’t taste it – smell it first.
• ·         You will have zero privacy for the next few days.  Showers, trips to the restroom, and sleeping are all community events.
• ·         Prepare to spend at least 30 minutes every day looking for Bunny and Blankie.
• ·         Remember – their powers are multiplied when they’re together.  Divide and conquer whenever possible.
• ·         If you do anything wrong, Olivia will tell on you.  She is the Informant.
• ·         The “Santa’s watching” bit still seems to be effective, but I think we’re stretching it.
• ·         You’ll be watching a lot of Nickelodeon and Disney.  Good Luck Charlie, iCarly, and The Wizards of Waverly Place aren’t too bad.  Yo Gabba Gabba and Blue’s Clues will give you suicidal thoughts.
• ·         There’s Benadryl in the medicine cabinet and we’re not above using it.
• ·         Chicken tenders and French fries will be embraced at any time.  Go for it – by the time they grow up there’s no telling what statin drugs will be able to do.
• ·         The house will be a wreck.  Get used to it.
• ·         Don’t forget about the dog (she sometimes gets lost in the shuffle and barks at us after patiently waiting at the back door for an hour or so).
• ·         Amelia will wear at least four sets of clothes a day and most of them will look hideous (pink tutu with boots and a Hello Kitty sweater).  There is nothing you can do about this.
• ·         They are smarter than we think they are and they can manipulate effectively before their first permanent tooth comes in.  You’ll have to be on top of your game.
• ·         However bad it is, remember you get to go home.  The chaos that you will endure is what we call home.

Thanks to the grandparents for helping us out!  There will be no post next week and I’ll update you our trip when we return.

Sara got me a banjo for Christmas.  That may sound like a weird gift, but I actually asked for it – I guess that makes me weird.  I’ve always liked Bluegrass music and I love the newer music that incorporates banjos (Mumford & Sons, The Avett Brothers, etc.).  Plus, tons of people play guitars.  How many people do you know who can play a banjo? 

If nothing else, I thought it would be a great addition for home security.  What would-be intruder wouldn’t go running for their life if they broke into a home and heard first line of Dueling Banjos?  I guarantee you Ned Beatty won’t be breaking in.

I’m starting from scratch, so it’s been pretty rough but I’m improving.  I’ve found some banjo tabs online that show you how to play songs even if you can’t read music.  One song I thought would be good to learn is the theme song from The Dukes of Hazzard, so I went searching.

While searching, for some reason I thought about how ridiculous that show was.  Don’t get me wrong – I was a big fan.  I had my Duke Boys lunchbox and watched the show every chance I got.  It’s just that I can’t imagine a show like that coming out today.

Imagine describing The Dukes of Hazzard to someone today who had never seen it.  You and a friend are exchanging idle chatter and you bring it up…

“You know our family is really hooked on this new show.”

“Really, what is it?”

“It’s called The Dukes of Hazzard.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well… it’s about these two racist redneck brothers who run moonshine for a living in their bright orange Dodge Charger named after the Confederate general of the Civil War with a rebel flag on top.”

“Oh?”

“…and their sister is a bartender at a honky-tonk bar owned by the mayor.  His name is Boss Hogg.  He’s this stereotypical obese Southerner who is the brother’s mortal enemy, but for some reason he employs their sister.  It must be because she wears these really short shorts all the time and flirts with everybody constantly – even her own brothers.  That’s a little weird.  Oh, and they can’t have guns, so they blow up a lot of stuff with dynamite-tipped arrows.  You know, just like Wyle E Coyote.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Yep, it’s a great show for the family.”

I know we often talk about how terrible television is these days, but I think we sometimes forget where we were. 

We went out to Lake Lanier Islands to see the lights the day after Christmas, so we exetended the holiday by a day. Now I just wonder how long I can milk this “Santa’s watching” bit into January.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and are ready for a great New Year (unless those Mayans were onto something – then 2012 may be a little stressful).

As I dropped off Olivia at school one day last week, she was excitedly talking about her Christmas party that she was having that day.  “You know whose birthday it is on Christmas?”  she asked. 

“Whose?” I replied.

“It’s Jesus’ birthday!” she said.

“That’s right,” I responded.

After a few seconds of silence, she hit me with one of those six-year old theological questions, “When is the devil’s birthday?”

I was stumped for a second but then told her that since there was no incarnation of the devil, he doesn’t have a birthday.  You know this technique, use big words that will end the line of questioning.

“What’s a car-mation?”  She is very persistent.  “Is that like a car that you ride in?”

“Looks like we’re here!  Have a good day, Olivia.”  That was a total cop-out.

Regardless of your beliefs, I hope you take some time this Sunday to reflect on the real meaning of Christmas.  Even if you don’t believe all of it, let your mind wonder for a bit.  If you do believe, remember what that baby did. 

The holiday season is in full swing, so I thought I would do another one of my Christmas carol re-writes.  This one was inspired by our trip to Chateau Elan this weekend to visit Santa.  My six-year-old hopped in his lap and let him know that she wanted a real puppy, a real bunny, and a real guinea pig.  My three-year-old cowered behind her mother and refused to get within fifteen feet of Santa.  As we left, there were more screaming children terrified of the Big Guy.  It reminded me of the Santa scene in A Christmas Story.  Sing to the tune of Away in a Manger.

Away with that stranger, with fake hair on his head.

His beard scares the bejesus, out of kids filled with dread.

Facial scars near his eye, and eyebrows so gray.

Why are they snapping pictures?  I’m not going to pay.

The crying is slowing, and so do the shakes.

His boots are made of plastic and really bad fakes.

I move the child toward him, to give it a try.

She screams like a banshee when she sits on his thigh.

In line for two hours and now she isn’t going to stay.

He smells like he came, from a beef and cheese buffet.

Frustrated with the children, it’s time to end this affair,

And find another Santa, who’s not the size of a bear.

Alright, I’m no Weird Al, but Merry Christmas anyway!

Traffic was terrible Sunday.  It was the Sunday after a holiday weekend, rain was pouring down, and I was stuck between Nashville and Chattanooga on I-24 on my way home to Atlanta.  For those of you who have never had the privilege of driving on I-24, you basically spend about half an hour gradually climbing a mountain while 18-wheeler drivers who have not yet mastered the concept of gravity try to pass each other.  This slow and frustrating climb is followed by a 20 second descent on the other side of the mountain at Mach 3.  Add in holiday traffic and a steady rain and you can imagine the fun we had coming home.

After we got home, we (Sara) decided that it was time to put up the Christmas tree.  We have this ginormous artificial 9 foot tree that would make Clark Griswold proud (if it weren’t plastic).  Interesting note: my spell check actually recognizes “Griswold”.  Anyway, it takes a couple of hours to put this monstrosity together.

After lugging the heavy, bulky box up from the basement, I realized that some of the lights went out last year and we needed new ones.  More driving, more delays, more frustration.

Sara ran out to Home Depot to get some lights while I got started on the tree.  If you’ve ever had an artificial tree, you know how long it takes to bend the wires out on each branch to make the thing look realistic.  Sara came back over a half hour later and I had not even completed a third of it.  When she came in, she said that it smelled like Christmas. 

My response was, “What… dust and plastic?”  We don’t have a real tree because I have asthma.  I’m beginning to think that our 12 year-old artificial tree has far more allergens than anything God created.

Of course, the whole time this is going on, we have two little girls begging to “help” put up the tree and a dog that never seems to move but is always laying right where I want to stand… odd.  I finally finished assembling the tree, putting on the lights, and helping run all the beads, banners, and other items that require someone taller than 5’ 8”.  As I made my way toward my chair to watch a little football, I realized the star on top was not lighting up. 

Fifteen minutes with this star and I realized it will never light up again.  I finally called it quits and put the unlit star back on top.  Of course, I wasn’t quite done yet.  I had to vacuum up all the little green plastic “needles” that fell off the tree.  I am amazed that this thing doesn’t look like the Charlie Brown tree yet.  It’s shed more plastic in the past 12 years than a Dave Ramsey convention.

Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, I finally washed my hands of the tree project (literally – that thing is covered in dust).  That’s when I saw my little girls hanging their ornaments and loving every second of it.  I guess that’s why we always have such fond memories of putting up the Christmas tree… in July.

We’re getting ready to load up and head north to Tennessee for Thanksgiving.  Since we have a 6-hour drive and my kids are at the age where they like to be at home for Santa on Christmas day, we do Thanksgiving with my family on Thursday and Christmas on Friday.  Maybe it’s not traditional, but the kids love it!

Olivia is getting to the age where she is not only interested in presents, but also enjoys Nana’s cooking.  Just the other day she asked me about our upcoming trip.

Olivia:  How many more days until we get to go Nana and Grandaddy’s.

Me:  Six more days.

Olivia:  Will there be a feast?

Me:  Yes, Olivia there will be several.

Hearing a six year-old ask about an upcoming feast made me laugh, but it also puts some things into perspective.  The majority of children on this planet have no idea what a feast is.  Fewer still get to have several feasts over the course of a long weekend. 

With Thanksgiving approaching, we really do have a lot to be thankful for.  Yes, the economy stinks, unemployment is up, home values are down, and Tennessee’s only SEC win thus far is against Vanderbilt… in overtime, but if we focus on all of the things that we do have rather than lament over what we don’t have, we will soon realize how fortunate we really are. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and don’t forget to remove the giblet bag before putting the turkey in the oven (that was something my wife learned many years ago through experience).

I am your greatest helper or your heaviest burden.

I will push you onward or drag you down to failure.

I am at your command.

Half of the tasks that you do you might just as well

turn over to me and I will do them quickly and correctly.

I am easily managed,

you must merely be firm with me.

Show me exactly how you want something done;

after a few lessons I will do it automatically.

I am the servant of all great people and

alas of all failures as well.

Those who are great I have made great,

those who are failures I have made failures.

I am not a machine, but I work with all the precision

of a machine, plus the intelligence of a person.

Now you may run me for a profit or

you may run me for ruin.

It makes no difference to me.

Take me, train me, be firm with me,

and I will lay the world at your feet.

Be easy with me and I will destroy you.

Who am I?  I am called Habit.

Performance of the Tennessee Volunteers notwithstanding, I am proud to be a volunteer. 

I’m not talking about college football… I had a couple of volunteer opportunities over the past two weeks.  One was with Habitat for Humanity and it was nasty work.  We removed an old railroad crosstie retaining wall.  If you’ve never picked up a railroad tie, I will enlighten you.  They are heavier than a Dennis Miller monolog and about twice as awkward to handle.  To add to our troubles, our footing was on a very steep slope, which was all mud because it rained the previous night. 

When the representative from Habitat for Humanity met us at the site, he apologized, shook his head, and told us we were in for a rough day.  The work was hard – I’ll give him that – but we had a great day.  In my experience, what you’re doing doesn’t matter nearly as much as who you’re doing it with.  We had a fun group of guys who took shots at each other all day with the crude guy humor that comes out during times of intense labor and we had a great time.

I’ve taken part in all types of work that is physically uncomfortable.  From driving 3 foot-long stakes through asphalt with a sledgehammer to bouncing around the remotest regions of Nicaragua in the back of a pickup truck, the physical discomfort of the work was always overshadowed by the camaraderie of those working.

We’re heading into the holiday season and there will be no shortage of volunteer opportunities.  This is also the time of year when people are trying to use up their vacation time.  Our company went from a policy where vacation time could be carried over to a “use it or lose it” policy.  Because of this, several people are trying to cram in vacation days at the last minute. 

One individual contemplating their unused vacation time said they didn’t have anywhere to go and didn’t have any projects at home, so they probably wouldn’t use all their vacation time.  He said something to the effect of, “I’m not going to take vacation time just to sit at home.” 

I suggested that he take his vacation time and do some volunteer work on his day off. 

He looked at me as if I was crazy.

Ok, so maybe I think a little differently than most people, but this makes perfect sense to me.  The biggest excuse people give for not volunteering is that they don’t have enough time.  The biggest consumer of most people’s time is their job.  If you’re considering just letting your vacation time waste away, why not use it help those in need?  For most people, the problem is their mindset.  They think vacation time is supposed to be “me time”. 

Earlier this year I spent a third of my vacation time in Nicaragua on a mission trip and am doing the same next year.  Even though I “lost” a third of my vacation time in January… and took a weeklong trip with my family in the summer… and took time off to work on my basement, I still have plenty of time off to schedule for the next two months.

I’m not telling you all of this to brag or try to make you feel guilty, I’m just letting you know that it is not only possible to use your vacation for volunteer work, but it is quite rewarding.  Who knows, maybe breaking a sweat doing some worthwhile work is more rejuvenating for you than laying on a beach.  I know it is for me.