Grilled Cheese Sunday

Just a quick post – a quiet Sunday afternoon in the Prowitz household. Olivia’s making me “tea” with her new tea set she purchased with money she earned doing chores. So proud. Not even 5yrs old and learning how to earn & save for things she wants. Picked the tea set because she could share it with Hattie & have tea parties.

Gotta make a run to the hardware store for Jen, then off to church tonight to lead our Dave Ramsey FPU class.

Did I mention I’m wearing shorts today? Love this mild winter. Gonna be almost 70 on Wednesday.

Some concealed carry thoughts…

First off, yes, the firearm pictured is mine… a Beretta PX4 9mm Subcompact Pistol. It’s really fun to shoot. Low recoil. Accuracy at 10 yards is great. Not bad for a 2.75″ barrel. Needed a picture for this post, grabbed my camera & got all “artsy.”

Had an interesting encounter at a local gun shop this morning. Went in to possibly trade one of my older handguns and take a look at what they had when an older gentleman came in. He proudly announced that he had recently taken the required training class and received his CCW permit & was looking for a carry weapon. That piqued my curriosity.

Oh…my…gosh!

The shop owner and I exchanged several nervous glances with each passing statement (eg. relying on the sound of racking a pistol’s slide to scare off an intruder, using a 12ga. shotgun w/ slugs and a rifled barrel for home defense, etc.) as it was painfully clear this gentleman seriously needed to NOT purchase or carry a firearm without additional training. I tried to be as helpful as I could without stepping on the owner’s toes, while the owner tried to explain the basics without sounding too patronizing.

It was painful!

Side note: a loaded Kimber 1911 .45ACP in an IWB holster is like wearing a brick on your hip. Hope he has a good belt to hold his pants up if he ends up going with it!

After a half hour or so, the gentleman left. With what the owner & I were able to cover, I think it was a valuable education for the guy… but he already could carry a loaded, deadly weapon in public. What does that say for Wisconsin’s training requirement for a CCW permit?

[shudder]

Someone like me, who’s been shooting for decades, looks at the training requirement & thinks, “really? I could teach the class myself” and considers it an unneccessary hoop to jump through in order to get a permit. However, the fact that there are folks out there at the same level of training and experience as the gentleman I met today legally carrying concealed firearms is a bit scary.

Maybe there should be a “challenge” option. Something to accomodate someone like me (who can field strip & reassemble a Ruger LC9 in under 30 seconds, thank you very much) and the folks who don’t understand how different types of firearms function and need additional education, hands-on time at a range, etc.

This weekend I’m taking the permit class. Today’s encounter made me ask some tough questions of myself. Why do I want a permit? Why would I carry a concealed weapon?

I think it boils down to the fact that the permit gives me the freedom to choose to carry or not. There’s no glamor side to carrying a weapon. I believe in our 2nd Amendment rights, but with those rights comes a staggering responsibility. That we cannot ever forget.

Snow shovel evangelism, part deux

Yup, loving your neighbor has reached a new level… involving a 2-stroke internal combustion engine. After tackling our drive & neighbor’s with a shovel (we got a lot of snow) last year, God blessed us with a used, very well-maintained gas snowblower for $25.

We’ve gotten to know another elderly lady on our block who needs help at times, which makes three drives and sidewalks. The snowblower makes short order of the snow, and I can get all three done in less than an hour.

There’s other dynamics at work among our neighbors, but the labor is being noticed. My prayer is that God uses this, however He chooses, to reach them where they’re at, impacting them in eternal ways.

Funny side note: I had no idea how long a tank of gas would last in this thing. After a few snowfalls, it was still running strong. I was almost finished with one of their drives & started to wonder if, because of my honoring God through loving our neighbors, maybe like the prophet Elijah & the widow with the oil that miraculously didn’t run out, my MTD 3/21 would just keep runnin’… til it finally ran dry & I finished it with a shovel.

Good stuff.

 

God’s a sloppy kisser

I recently attended a worship service where John Mark McMillan’s “How He Loves” was performed. This song has been around for a couple years, is a favorite to many, and even has a smidgen of controversy attached to it. As I sang along, we came to the line I had heard had been “edited for Sunday.”

Yup.

“So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss…”

… had been replaced with

“So heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss.”

There’s a powerful story behind the song that John M. shares on his blog, along with his thoughts on the whole sloppy thing, his conversations with David Crowder concerning the lyric change, and his frustrations with the whole thing.

That got me thinking… why couldn’t the generally accepted version be the “sloppy” one? Why is there even a problem?

As I thought this through during one of my quiet times, I was reminded of my dad during his last few years. Not one to normally show a lot of affection, I remember when he started to kiss us when we parted. Just a peck on the lips, and I remember being taken aback the first few times. On the lips? I was a grown man. You don’t do that! After a while, I realized he was expressing his love for me, and he wasn’t embarrassed to show it, didn’t care what others thought. His love was “messy,” and it was genuine. I miss those kisses.

Another story of a father unashamed to show love to his children can be found in Luke 15 in the parable of the prodigal son. In Middle Eastern culture, it was unheard of for a father to run to his son, but this one didn’t care… didn’t care what his family, servants, neighbors, etc. thought. “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20 MSG) There was nothing proper, nothing formal about that reunion – just a father’s love, lavished on his returning son.

“And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me.”

I think part of the problem may lie in not truly grasping how great His affections are for us, a love that gave His Son to take our place on the cross, that we could be reunited with Him. I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly picture God greeting us with a Christian side-hug, or a double-pat man hug. No, I imagine it’ll be something a bit more than that, might even be a bit “sloppy.”

God’s love for us is embarrassing only until we accept it.

“…Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” – Ghandi

This post has been brewing in my noggin for weeks… some folks who identify themselves as Christians, by their words, actions, etc., sometimes leave me completely baffled and profoundly sad.

Let me be abundantly clear – I’m not making a blanket statement addressed to the whole of Christendom, but it’s unfortunately applicable to more than just a few individuals. This isn’t meant to be accusatory, as this imperfect putz is in no position to be casting any stones. Maybe this is meant solely as a reminder to those of us who consider themselves Christ-followers to guard our hearts, that we’d not bring dishonor to the One who’s worthy of all honor.

I’ve mostly just shaken my head at the judgmentalism I’ve witnessed recently amongst Christians – how you dress, music styles used in worship… although personally, I think God’s got the David Crowder Band headlining eternity with a set that’ll last the first thousand years… may even throw in a PowerPoint presentation or two for the folks who split churches over such a ridiculously trivial thing. It’s a good thing God’s patient with us!

But most recently I read a blog post from someone describing how his wife’s friend of 25 years, a self-professed Christian, abandoned her when the friendship was most needed. Apparently they were too “different” and should go their separate ways.

The kicker line? “I’ll pray for you.”

I wanted to scream! Being a Bible school grad, I’ve got more than a few of ‘em on my shelves, and I’m pretty sure that none of them describes Jesus walking away from those who need Him most. Not even in The Living Bible or The Message – sorry, little dig at the folks who judge by the translation you use. What’s tragic is that these [clueless, self-righteous, ignorant, etc.] professing Christ followers leave behind them a wake of “wounded” who may never come to know Christ’s love for them because of their perception of Christianity.

The Jesus I know promises never to leave us, abandon us, or relax His grip on us. That’s the Jesus who should’ve been reflected in the friend’s words & actions, not something borrowed from the ol’ Pharisaical playbook.

I’m so bad…

You know it’s bad when you realize you have a website… and it’s been FOREVER since your last post. My apologies!

Latest Dave update? Well, I’m in the midst of a crazy busy fall at camp. The girls are getting so big! Hattie’s talking, Olivia’s writing words on a notebook next to me as I write. Hard to believe she starts school next year.

Jen & I are leading a small group at church, starting this weekend. Funny, being in full-time ministry, that I shy away from opportunities for God to use me outside of camp. Silly me!

Look for more posts soon…

The price of apathy… aka the hobby store closed

Driving through East Troy yesterday, I noticed a “for lease” sign in the window of the hobby store. My profound response?

“Hmm…”

… and I kept driving.

An enterprise that someone spent time and effort trying to establish now joins the ranks of fellow failed businesses. The economy (blame it on Bush or Walker)? The location?

Nope. They just sucked, plain and simple.

Growing up, I loved to build scale models. A store in East Troy? Awesome! As I opened their door, I was already trying to decide what I’d purchase. Something sci-fi…or, maybe a cool helicopter… been a while since I built an aircraft carrier…

…I was met by a guy behind the counter who didn’t even greet me when I entered (I was the only person in the store) and the most half-hearted selection of EVERYTHING. Skimpy offerings in the plastic model kits, R/C cars and planes, model trains… it was like the wind left my sails and I was left to drift in a sea of apathy… if apathy could be a hobby store.

After a couple pity laps around the store, I smiled, said thanks, and walked out the door. My first and only visit.

Passing the shuttered business, it made me think of what it could’ve been, if I had had a crack at running it. Location may be part of it, but you’d strive toward making the store THE location for models, the Mecca of models in SE Wisconsin. Great selection, passionate staff, world-class service, etc.

Dave’s Hobby in East Troy is THE ONLY place you want to go for your hobby needs. They rock!

Instead, that place will probably become another Curves location in a few months, the hobby store forgotten.

They didn’t leave their mark. They didn’t distinguish themselves.

Are you leaving your mark, to be the best spouse, parent, friend, boss, employee, volunteer, etc., etc., etc.?

Helpless

So much for a day off! We had plans on spending time as a family, visiting a children’s museum in Milwaukee, maybe just hanging around home… well, sometimes the best laid plans…

My day began at 6:45am with my 4yr old standing at my bedside, informing me that, “mommy needs you to come downstairs right now.” Sensing there was more to this than the usual, ” it’s time to wake up, daddy,” I headed downstairs to find my distraught wife sitting next to our two year old on the couch.

Our two year old, laying in the recovery position, in the midst of a seizure. Limbs twitching, eyes partially open, foam on her lips… my princess!

She had a fever the night before. What was happening? Jen stayed with Hattie while I called 911. Within minutes, a police officer arrived, followed by local rescue. Hattie had stopped seizing by the time the EMTs arrived & they took her to the ambulance outside. As an added precaution, a paramedic unit arrived as they waited in the ambulance…and waited…and waited… Ok, based on my years as a firefighter, I knew that once the patient was loaded, they usually wouldn’t roll until the patient was as stable as possible and secured for transport. The fact that the EMTs and paramedics seemed to sit there, across the street, for what seemed an ETERNITY was driving me crazy! Why aren’t you rolling? Did she seize again? Are her vitals crashing? All these thoughts, flying through my head as I watched through our front room window.

Helpless.

Within minutes, the paramedics went back to their rig and the local rescue squad pulled away. No rush, no siren… a good thing?

Turns out Hattie suffered a febrile seizure, a fairly common condition in 2-6yr olds, usually triggered by a sudden high fever. No lasting effects, and kids grow out of it. Loved one article I read about it, stating that it’s “usually scariest for the parents, who think their child is dying.”

I remember before I met Jen, weighing the pros & cons of marrying, well, anyone. On my own, there was just me to worry about. If something happened to me, sure my family & friends would be affected, but I didn’t intentionally bring another person into the picture. I had had my cancer scare… what if it came back? maybe I’d be better on my own…

But I took that chance, and 11 years later, I’m married to my best friend. A joy I would never have experienced had I not looked past the many “what ifs” to see the treasure found within the risk of bringing someone in.

Kids were a different story.

We had waited seven years before deciding we’d never truly be “ready” for children. For me, the “what ifs” returned. Sure, I’d be devastated if something happened to Jen, but could I survive anything happening to a child of mine?

But then came Olivia, followed by Hattie two years later. Sure, there’s the challenges of raising a young family, but the joys vastly outweigh kowtowing to the “what ifs.” And what a lack of faith on my part! Sure, I’d trust in God’s protection and provision for myself, even my wife, but that trust stops when when my children enter the picture? I’m such a dork! Having seen God’s hand in my family’s lives over the years, how could I doubt He’d continue to be there, loving my kids more than I ever could.

Things could have ended much differently last Thursday, and God would’ve sustained me through whatever may have come. However, this morning, Hattie gave me a huge hug as I left for work, accompanied by an, “I love you, daddy” (in her best two-year-old speak). Definitely worth the risk!

Lord, thank you for my family, that my daughters are home, and that we’re never truly helpless when our help comes from You.

“I will not in any degree leave you helpless nor forsake nor let you down (relax my hold on you)! Assuredly not!” Hebrews 13:5 AMP

Virus (Follow-up)

Sorry for leaving you hanging, but I’m much better now. In summary, ended up in the emergency room for more tests, convinced the doctor to at least try antibiotics instead of masking the fever with Tylenol, and 24 hours later my temp was down 2 degrees. 48 hours after that, my temp was normal & the fever hasn’t been back since. Though fever-free, the experience took its toll on me physically, but I’m pretty close to normal at this point. My clothes fit a bit loose. I lost over 20 pounds during the 3-week fever marathon.

That is all.

Don’t quit your day job…

I’m sure we’ve all heard this familiar phrase. With great pride we [fill in the blank], a grin on our face as we anticipate the encouragement of family & friends to pursue our dream, only to be met with, “don’t quit your day job.”

But, what if your day job makes your dream job possible?

As a full-time adventure program director, I get to do dreadful things like rock climb, train folks to be ropes course instructors, nordic ski with school students on beautiful winter mornings, watch the sunset from the top of our climbing tower. I know, rough stuff!

And then there’s this other thing I do that I love – I’m a photographer. Evidently I’m ok at it. People seek me out & pay me a lot of money to work for them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been encouraged to take my photography to the next level & shoot full-time. I love photography. You could say it’s my dream job.

So…why don’t I take the leap?

At this point in my life, my day job makes my dream job possible. I do what I love at camp, it meets my family’s needs, and it affords me maximum freedom as a photographer.

Freedom, you may ask? YES!

First of all, it gives me the ability to say no. With my day job covering our living expenses, I don’t have to worry that by not taking a photo assignment, my kids will go hungry, or our electricity will get shut off. I don’t have to haggle my rates simply because I need cash for a car payment. I don’t have to compromise just to get a gig. I can say no & walk away with no regrets, no empty stomachs, no repossessed cars, etc. I can go all year without a single paying gig & our family is still ok.

It also gives me the ability to say yes. Since I’m not relying on photography income for our daily provisions, I’ve had the freedom to gift my services as I’ve felt led. One year in particular, God blessed me with several assignments. Later that year, I became aware of a wedding where I knew the couple didn’t have a photographer & they had an extremely limited budget. I couldn’t shake it. I really felt God telling me to shoot their wedding for whatever they could afford… even if it was for nothing. I had the best time shooting their wedding. It was my way to give back for all God had brought me that year.

As far as what the future holds, I really don’t know. I love my day job, and I love my photography. At this point, I couldn’t ask for more.