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| As many of you know, I am working as a Detention Officer at the Richland County Juvenile Detention Center in Mansfield, OH. About 3 or 4 times per week, the court has church groups do services for any of the youth that wish to attend. Usually it's a basic message about salvation delivered by a person who is obviously nervous about the setting. But something different happened today. While the leader was closing in prayer and extended the offer for salvation, one of the kids raised his hand. I had a difficult time maintaining my composure; I was so elated, I nearly cried. Obviously, as a Detention Officer, I'm not permitted to breech the topic of faith at all. I simply supervise the youth with whatever they are doing (in this case, at the faith services).
There are several Bibles in the detention center and the detainees are permitted to have one at any time. They're rather old and beaten up with missing pages. Tonight, the boy that raised his hand came up to me holding the remnants of what is the most in-tact Bible he could find. Confused, he said to me, "man, this shit don't make no sense!" I looked and it was an old King James Version Bible. I helped him look for a different version, but they are all old King James Bibles. The entire book selection was rather pathetic to be honest. Mostly junk books that would otherwise have been thrown out had somebody not had the last minute idea to donate them to the "kids jail."
I'm not allowed to actually give kids books or Bibles, but I can put on the shelf anything I wish to donate to the county for use by the inmates. Anybody can donate books. These kids are hungry and seeking and it seems to me there is a great need for: 1 - Bibles in versions they can understand; 2 - inspirational books geared towards teens; 3 - faith-building books geared towards teens and non or new believers.
Many of these kids are locked up for months at a time and the only thing they have to do to pass the time is to read. My request is this: if you are able and wish to do so, please send anything you think may be useful by these kids. Everything must be paperback (absolutely no hard covers are permitted) and nothing with staples (staples are not permitted). Mail them to me and I will personally put anything you send on the bookshelf for the kids to read. Use United States Postal Service and tell the clerk your package is "media mail" as this is a very reduced shipping rate for books and other media items.
Some suggestions:
Teen study Bibles
Zondervan makes an EXCELLENT Bible called the Serendipity Bible
http://www.amazon.com/Serendipity-Bible-Lyman-Coleman/dp/0310937329/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1219728600&sr=8-1
A lot of James Dobson's stuff for teens such as Life on the Edge.
Some of the kids have expressed interest in the Left Behind series.
Anything and everything on forgiveness and reconciliation.
Whatever God lays on your heart. And it's OK if there are duplicates because there are a lot of kids and they all like similar things.
If you have something you want to send, let me know so I can give you my address and I can expect its arrival. Thank you all so very much.
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| I have a good friend who manages a local mom-and-pop pizza shop in
town. I was out running some errands this evening and as I was
finishing, I thought I'd stop in and say hello since I would be passing
by. Using a 50+ year old secret recipe, this shop bakes from scratch
all their dough for pizzas and bread for subs--it is VERY good and well
known in the community! Usually, they have a little bit of dough left
over at the end of the day, so they'll make small rolls for the staff
to eat throughout the evening. When I arrived, my friend told me they
had several rolls left over and asked if I'd like some bread to take
home. "Sure," I said, thinking nothing of it. He put some bread in a
bag; we visited for a couple minutes more then I left, bag of bread in
hand. I got in the car and without a thought, tossed the bag on the
front seat. The instant I did, my memory was jogged to something I had
seen earlier today.
A reporter was interviewing a woman in the
Republic of Georgia about the current illegal and violent occupation of
Russia in her country. Hundreds are dead; thousands are displaced and
this woman was telling that her family has not eaten for several days
and that they are hungry. She cried out, "We have no bread!"
I
sat in my car in the stunned silence, almost crying as I could vividly
hear the woman cry out, "We have no bread" as clearly as if I was
listening to her on the radio. Over and over in my mind her statement
rang out. "We have no bread."
I've given up asking God "why?"
It's a futile conversation with reasons beyond our comprehension. The
best we can do is try to understand that all things are part of God's
plan. Instead of asking "why?" I did the best I could do in that
moment: through my tears, I pleaded for God's mercy on behalf of this
woman, on behalf of her family, and on behalf of her country. I thanked
God for the blessings He has given me, blessings I so often take for
granted, without a thought. Like a bag of bread.
"We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy." Daniel 9:18b | | |
| Hmmm...I got an email from Xanga today. Apparently I've been inactive here and they're going to be deleting accounts to free up usernames for others. While I don't use this site very often, I'd like to keep the option, so I'm posting something to keep my site open.
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| Nothing tops a hot summer day like a baseball game--it's part of being
an American! Of course, you should always take your baseball glove on
the off chance that a home run or foul ball comes your way. I remember
attending Indians' games at the old Cleveland Stadium (may it rest in
peace), a man tried to catch a foul ball with his straw hat. The hat
didn't last very long--the ball tore clean through it and into the
walkway below. That was the closest I've ever come to catching a ball
at a professional game, though one time at Jacob's Field, someone in my
party got to toss a ball to a reporter who was on camera before the
game for some type of on-screen effect. Admittedly it was corny, but it
was fun nonetheless.
Gone are the days of letting the kid catch
the ball and everybody around him scruffing his hair with jovial
"ata-boys" and "good jobs!" Catching the ball was a great memory and
now he had one more ball to take to the neighborhood park to play with
his friends. Now the fans hit and kick and fight and put up a big
ruckus for the ball, then sell it for thousands of dollars on Ebay or
some other auction.
Case in point...
Barry Bonds has
broken the career home run record, sending number 756 over the wall.
The record breaking ball was caught by 22 year old Matt Murphy.
Recounting the event to the Associated Press, the AP writes:
"'The
ball "took a lucky bounce,'' Murphy said, and set off a scrum — with
him at the bottom. 'Longest minute of my life,' Murphy said. 'I think
one gentleman kicked me in the back of the head. There were people on
top of people on top of people, which I didn't really understand. The
San Francisco Police Department really helped me out by getting there
quickly.'" (http://www.startribune.com/503/story/1353623.html)
The
police had to help him? Those are some serious fans. Granted, this was
an historic ball. I can't say that I wouldn't have been in that scrum
as well. In fact, even the Internal Revenue Service--the IRS--wants in
on the scrum. The AP writes:
"Matt Murphy could become $500,000
richer if he sells Barry Bonds' record-breaking home run ball. Selling
the ball for that amount would instantly put Murphy in the highest tax
bracket for individual income, where he would face a tax rate of about
35 percent, or about $210,000. Even if he does not sell the ball,
Murphy would still owe the taxes based on a reasonable estimate of its
value, according to John Barrie, a tax lawyer with Bryan Cave LLP in
New York. Capital gains taxes also could be levied in the future as the
ball gains value, he said."
(http://www.startribune.com/503/story/1353623.html)
Now
seriously, folks. Is there nothing sacred anymore? It's a baseball!
This young man should not have to be punished for engaging in a
time-honored tradition! But since he might have to pay tax on it, I do
have a few questions for the IRS. I'm not a tax expert, so some of
these may be based on presumptions, but I still have them as questions
anyway.
1. Can he write off the expense of the tickets he purchased to attend? They were in fact a necessary business expense.
2.
Since we're looking at write-offs, Mr. Murphy was on a trip to
Australia. Had he not been on this trip, he never would have attended
the game, so technically he could write off his travel expenses,
meaning the whole trip!
3. What about the old man years ago at
Cleveland Stadium that ruined his straw hat trying to catch a ball.
That hat was a business expense. Could he write it off?
4. If I
take my baseball glove with me the next time I go to a game, can I
write off the tickets, hot dogs, beer, gas to get there, parking,
peanuts, and any other expense I have? By taking my glove, I am in fact
not going to enjoy the game, but for the purpose of making a profit by
catching a ball.
5. Since any old foul ball is worthless, can I
write off the lost revenue and the decline in my net worth for having
caught a foul ball in the first place?
6. What if I spill my
beer or get mustard on my shirt while conducting business? Should I
send my clothes to the cleaner and write off the cleaning bill or
should I just get all new clothes and write those off?
7. If my
new clothes are worth more than the ones I ruined, will I have to claim
that income along with the ball and pay tax on that?
8. Can I, as a business, be tax-exempt for the purchase of the clothes?
I
would appreciate an immediate response from the IRS on this matter as
their delay is causing me to lose valuable time and money that I could
be putting forth to my new business venture. Hey, I wonder if I can
write that off! | | |
| Summer is that time of year when the biggest decision is whether to buy
beef hot dogs or turkey dogs. Should Uncle Frank be left in charge of
the grill after his expertise cost him his eyebrows last year? Don't
let Mike karate chop the watermelon for the sake of Grandma's blouse
vis-a-vis her ruined top from the year before. Ahh, the memories of the summer cookout.
Ours was always held at Grandpa and Grandma's
house, pleasantly perched atop a hill in the midst of the Hazel Willis
Woods in absolutely the middle of nowhere. The pool was there; lawn
chairs dominated the top of the driveway and the yard. The
not-so-orange-juice which all the children received stern warnings that
it was in fact NOT orange juice, so don't drink it. Several years
passed before we would learn that they were referring to the lemonade
pitcher filled with Fuzzy Navel. These were the days when our biggest
concern was keeping out of Grandma's reach whenever she decided
everybody needed more bug spray. She would always chase us around the
yard and driveway and would ultimately win. Though we would never admit
it, we were thankful for the extra protection she offered. A sneeze in
the woods is inevitable, but we always took great pains to hide our
sneezes while swimming as it was assumed it meant we were chilled and
catching a cold. We were promptly whisked out of the pool and bundled
in the hot sun for a while so we could warm up to stave off the assured
crud that would follow.
It never failed, while cooking, Grandma
would always come to the laundry-room window which overlooked the
entire scene and yell into the crowd for Grandpa. Her initial short,
staccato "CHUCK!" went largely unnoticed by the revelers below, so she
would yell louder, "CHUCK!" After several attempts at this choppy,
single syllable, she would begin to extend it with increased emphasis:
"CHUUUK!!! CCCHHHUUUUUUUUKKKKK!!!" Not wanting Grandpa to be left out
of her beckon, she would soon yell at any passer-by between "MICKY!
MICKY! Where's your dad? Get your dad!"
"He's in the garage, mom!" He would yell back at her.
"Get him for me!" Was her response.
No sooner would dad walk away would she yell at somebody else, "NATHAN! NATHAN!"
"Yeah, Grandma?"
"Where's your grandfather? Get Grandpa for me!"
"OK, Grandma!"
Grandpa,
being slightly hard of hearing would eventually be stirred from his
duties in front of the radio to come into the driveway, look up and
yell back at her, "What do you want, Bev?"
It was never
important, usually having to do with things in the kitchen being ready
or delayed or something of the such. Sometimes she just wanted him to
send up help to carry things downstairs.
Grandpa's radio was
an old clock-radio which dated to about the same era that clock radios
were invented that he kept in the garage--the headquarters for these
gatherings. Though the quality of speakers left much to be desired, he
always had the oldies country music station playing. The twangy,
gargled music echoed through the garage and filled the yard. It never
failed, Anne Murray's "Can I Have This Dance (For The Rest Of My Life)"
would come on; Grandpa and Grandma would drop everything and dance in
each other's arms in the garage. While I would join my brothers and
cousins in making sure everybody knew I thought it was corny and gross,
I remember secretly thinking to myself that watching them dance like
that after so many years of love and marriage was possibly the most
beautiful thing I had ever--or will ever see. For the few minutes that
the song played, the world stopped as we watched them dance. They
looked into each other's faces and smiled as decades of marriage and
life passed with the twinkling of an eye.
Many pictures and
photographs exist from these gatherings but these only capture a
moment. It is the memory that is meaningful. Anybody could look at
these pictures and they would mean nothing to them. Only those in the
pictures can stir the memories and recall those hot summer days, days
that now can only be a memory. Grandma is no longer with us. Grandpa is
in failing health. Other members of the family have also passed while
others have been added. It's time to begin creating new memories. | | |
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