If you were about to board a transcontinental flight and several Muslim passengers from your flight knelt in prayer in the boarding area would you feel uncomfortable? Would you feel the same way about a group of Orthodox Jews with yalmurkas and long traditional beards gathered in prayer? How would you feel about a group of Nuns or maybe even Mormon missionaries? How do you feel about public displays of faith?

As an airline pilot, I see public displays of faith everyday. I guess more people are afraid of flying than care to openly admit. I see Muslims praying in the boarding area. I see Catholics crossing themselves just before they step on to the plane. I see people kiss their fingers and tap them on the plane for good luck. One Bible-carrying passenger stopped and told me how she said a prayer every time she took her seat on the plane. I just grinned and said, “You too!?”

Faith is the motivating force behind all of our lives. I don’t care what you believe about God, if you didn’t have faith that the sun was going to come up, you wouldn’t get out of bed. Unless you have knowledge of the future, your every action is driven by faith. Every accomplishment beyond our simple existence of the moment requires faith.

Various religions require overt acts of faith. These acts include everything from silent prayer, to bathing in the Ganges River. Each public display of faith demonstrates to the world, and to the intended god, that the believer has faith strong enough to evoke action. Action, the highest form of faith, is required to demonstrate one’s level of faith.

But what if these acts of faith interfere with or even harm the lives of others? A suicide bomber in the name of Allah, car bombings to resolve a dispute between Catholics and Protestants, Sikh assassinations to end perceived religious oppression, all have the same thing in common – violence committed in the name of faith.

Clashes between good and evil sometimes do escalate to the level of violence, but I don’t believe that the fight against evil requires the willful taking of innocent lives. The battle against evil requires that we change lives – starting with our own.

So the next time you board a flight, go ahead and display your faith in public. Maybe your overt act of faith will inspire someone. We only hope that it inspires others to do good - not wet their pants in fear.

Years ago while living in South America, I became a fan of a Spanish singer, Jose Luis Perales. His song, “Cómo Es El”, was one of my favorites. The song is poetic, as most of his songs are, and speaks of stolen love as the couple separates. Cómo es el literally means ‘how is he’ or more clearly translated, ‘what is he like?’ The forsaken lover painfully and pointedly questions the departing woman about the nature of the conquering rival, and where exactly did he fall in love with her. I always considered it a poignant and moving song. And then the other day I found out the real meaning behind the song, and it deepened my understanding of the song making the poignancy downright visceral.

I found out that the ‘forsaken lover’ was a father questioning his daughter as she announced her betrothal. With the new information in mind, I played the song again. Since I now have three daughters, an entirely new wave of emotion overcame me as the old lyrics played, and I must admit that I cried. It was, as they say, a significant paradigm shift.

How often does new information completely change our outlook, our feelings, or our understanding of something? Perhaps it doesn’t happen enough.

We often trudge along in life from one event to another without opening our eyes, ears, and minds to other possibilities. We entrench ourselves in our mindset and fight off any new information as if it were an invading army hell-bent on destroying our way of thinking. In the end, like the trench, our thinking becomes narrow, monotonous, and goes nowhere productive.

If, however, we build our house of thought on the rock of truth, then we can gladly welcome in any new idea or thought into the walls of our home for examination without fearing the outcome. If it is truth, we gladly give it space and welcome it as we would a new member of our family. If it is not truth, then we can confidently and cordially show it to the door. Because the foundation is strong, the house can withstand any paradigm shifts.

Truth needs no defense. We need not hedge it or protect it. We need simply learn it, proclaim it, and ally ourselves to it.

My paradigm shift deepened my admiration for a beautiful song, but now when I hear the words, my emotions will be different than before. The song is still poetic and poignant, but the truth about its meaning made me feel its emotional message more deeply than before – perhaps because I now have three daughters that are growing up too fast.

I recently wrote a small segment about love as part of a writing exercise that I wanted to share. BTW, don't forget about Valentines Day!

“Why should I let you live?” said my captor. His accented delivery was smooth and even, but his voice had the quality of wrinkled sandpaper.

I paused. I could smell my own breath as it tried to escape from the coarse bag over my head. The mind is a funny thing, especially under panic. One thought dominated my mind – a line from a movie.

“True Love,” I said simply and clearly.

Silence dominated. No motion. No breathing. Awkward silence. The seconds sped away until the grit from his voice scraped away the silence. “Tell me about her and why you love her.”

In the darkness, I closed my eyes that I might see more clearly the images of her. I took a deep breath and began.

“I began to love her many years ago. Her unabashed smile and unmistakable zest for life attracted me from the first moment I laid eyes on her. She was laughing and talking with a buddy of mine and her bushy blonde hair gleamed in the sun. She smiled with gusto, not some half-hearted reserved smile. It was the kind of smile that starts somewhere deep in the heart and bursts across the face like the sunrise. Her blue eyes sparkled and her laugh was contagious. We dated and everything felt so natural – no jealously, no drama, no weirdness. We became inseparable friends. It was a warm spring afternoon in the mountain canyon when I first knew that I was in love with her. As we drove down the winding canyon road she suddenly made me stop the car so that she could pet some cows in a field beside the road. I laughed! But as I watched her in the afternoon sun gently coaxing the cows to the fence with her delightful voice, my affection for her bubbled up inside of me making me tingle inside. I knew I was in love with her.”

“You speak only of young love or, how do you say, infatuation. That is not true love,” said the captor skeptically.

I continued.

“We were married a few months later in the summer. The hot summer nights were filled with passion and yearning desire. We drank deeply from the sumptuous waters of sexual intimacy. We discovered the previously uncharted country of giving each other guiltless sensual pleasure as a husband and wife that had become as one flesh. Nights filled with sweet sweat, wet lips, skin to skin, and synchronized scintillating motion. Our love…”

“Now you speak only of sexual desire!” interrupted the voice. “Surely you are not trying to convince me that such emotions are true love!”

I continued, increasing the pace of my words. “The romantic passion gave way to the ebb and flow of two lives combined in the fight to win at the daily grind. We locked arms and focused our efforts on common goals and worthy horizons. We started a family – one…two…three…four children. Each time she stared death in the face and endured great pain to bring our children into this world. Her life became an endless battle against dirty diapers, snotty noses, and cluttered carpets. My life became a balancing act of earning a living and raising children. We adopted two more needy children and brought them into our circle of love. Our family…”

I could almost hear my captor shake his head and roll his eyes as he interrupted again. “Now you bore me with details of family life! Do you expect me to believe that true love comes from raising children?! Bah!”

I continued, even faster than before. “We set off in new directions as our children grew. We encouraged each other and took up new hobbies together. We…”

“Drivel! Love is not learning new things together!”

I continued at a panicked pace. “We grew old together and learned to support each other through sickness and injury. We cared for each others needs by…”

“Enough! Any nurse can do that! Since when is that TRUE LOVE?”

I stopped and sobbed softly to myself not knowing what to say.

After a long pause, I felt the captor’s mouth close beside me. His scratchy voice raked softly across my ear. “I have your wife in the next room. One of you must die. Will you die for her?”

“YES!” I shouted without hesitation.

I heard the legs of the chair squeak roughly against the floor as my captor stood. “THAT is true love!” he said.

I heard the hinges moan as the door opened. I heard the sound of metal against metal as the door swung firmly shut. I prayed for the safe release of my dear wife, and I waited happily to die.


Happy Valentines Day! May you find TRUE LOVE!

Growing up in a big family we had one black-and-white TV, and limited space on the couch. If you got up to go to the bathroom you had to yell, “Seat back!” or when you returned you would find a brother or sister sitting comfortably in your coveted spot. It was our way of laying claim to our place in the family.

“How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. You can never go home again.” (James Agee; “A Death in the Family”)

It is an adage that rings true over an over again. As soon as we cross the childhood threshold in search of our own life, we are forever changed. Our childhood home changes in our absence, and can never be reclaimed.

I recently enjoyed an overnight visit with my parents who still live on the family farm in Kentucky. Amid the discussion of kids, good books, and politics, I felt the usual nagging regret that the choices I made have led me far away from my parents. I mean that in a geographical sense not an emotional one, but sometimes one follows the other.

My parents and I have managed to stay quite close emotionally over the years and across many miles of road and sky, but I can’t help but feel a sense of loss when I let my mind wonder about what might have been - If only I lived closer… Interestingly enough, only two of my parents’ ten children still live nearby. The rest, like me, charted courses and made decisions that took us to far-away (and sometimes strange) places.

What made us all seek new horizons? For starters, we all got luggage as a graduation present. It was their way of nudging, or pushing, us out of the nest. The luggage symbolized our independence and encouraged us to seek new horizons. When I returned home after a lengthy stay in South America, my parents treated me differently. I was no longer a child, and although many unspoken expectations remained in place, a sense of freedom and independence was also prevalent. I could never go home again. It was time to make a home of my own, and I had been empowered and encouraged to do so.

I move forward in life not because I am fleeing from my past and all that it represents, but because I am grounded in it and all its good teachings. I don’t seek new horizons because old horizons have grown stale, but because they have motivated me onward in their grace and beauty. My parents taught me that life is a journey, not a destination. My journey has been good, and I don’t wish to hasten down the highway because the scenery wasn’t good behind me, but because it was so good that it made me anticipate the journey ahead with greater desire.

We are a family of strong-willed individuals, who, happily and surprisingly, have managed to stay close across the miles. Maybe you can’t go home again, but you don’t have to be a stranger to your family either. Just yell, “Seat back!” on your way out the door to save your spot.

Well it’s that time of year again - time for New Year’s resolutions. You resolve to do or become something during the upcoming year. I like goals. They keep your life focused. They give purpose to otherwise empty days or moments. They give you a sense of accomplishment when you actually reach the goal you set. Goals are good… most of the time.

This past year I set several goals, and I even achieved some of them. I distinctly remember looking at my goals for 2009 after writing them down and realizing they looked similar to my goals for 2008, 2007, and several years in a row. I was setting similar goals every year. They were more like “to-do” lists than goals.

This year, some opportunities came along that I never anticipated or even dreamed about. I didn’t feel so bound by my written resolutions that I couldn’t pursue new opportunities. I marched off in new directions, and I am happier because of it.

As I thought about that experience, it made me wonder, “Does God set goals?” I think He does.

I think He has a purpose for all of His creations and therefore He sets “goals” to help those creations. If He sets the planets in motion and creates galaxies full of life and splendor, then He has purpose and knows what He hopes to accomplish. If a sparrow cannot fall without His knowledge, surely He has a plan for our lives both individually and collectively. If He commands us to be “perfect”, then He will provide a roadmap and a means of measuring the fulfillment of the stated objective. I think God is a goal setter.

Not only do I think God is a goal setter, but I also think He wants us to have worthy goals of our own. He wants us to be happy, and He knows that we cannot be happy by seeking only pleasure or by standing still. We must take the resources we have, and with our talents, skills, and sheer effort create “galaxies” of our own.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming.”

I have felt the hand of the God I worship gently and lovingly nudge me as I strive to become, and to achieve, and I am happier because of it.

Merry Christmas!

Here's another failed attempt to win a short story contest, but I enjoyed the story and think you will also. Comments and criticisms are welcome. Have a very Merry Christmas!

I had an Air Force buddy that had an interesting arrangement with his wife. At Christmas time he would buy a present for himself and give it to her, and she would buy a present for herself and give it to him. One Christmas she got a shotgun and he got a sewing machine, and they were both very happy. I have always considered that an ingenious technique to keep you out of the gift-giving doghouse.

Since you are all probably reading this blog in between shopping online, or while you take a break from wrapping presents, I know you will appreciate my lists of gifts not to get your spouse.

A new lawnmower (even the riding type)
A new dishwasher (unless it comes with a lifetime commitment to do the dishes)
Any device for removing body hair
Exercise equipment (unless they ask for it more than five times)
P90X DVD’s (unless they ask for them more than ten times)
A book for your wife titled “Confessions of an Organized Housewife”
A book on anger management
A book titled “Become the Husband Your Wife Always Wanted”
Any apparatus used for cleaning up after others
An iron or ironing board (see note about dishwasher)
Any massage paraphernalia that they will be required to use on you
A wig or toupee
Any “regifted” gift that you received from your spouse
Gift certificates from Hooters
A one-way ticket
Any gift with the wrong name on it

Often gifts like these are loaded with subtle (or not so subtle) subliminal messages, and when the receiver of such gifts decodes the message, you may be in for some marital trouble. Feel free to add to the list and help keep us all out of the gift-giving doghouse!