Spin, spin. Spin the black circle!

You may have noticed my blog entries becoming somewhat few and far between lately. There is a perfectly logical explanation for this. I've been spending my evenings trapped in a room with several well-meaning, yet panicking, folks who rant and rave about deficits, consultants, funding, and pies for hours on end.

Several months ago the congregation at my church all got together and thought it would be really funny to nominate me to the Board of Directors. They extended the joke even further by voting me in and giving me a three-year sentence ... I mean term. Damn them! Damn them all!

Since that time I've received a crash course on life among the powerful. It's a strange existence filled with laptops, charts and panicking. Lots of panicking. You might have read somewhere that our national economy is, um, struggling. Well, the powerful ones on the board have decided to lift a giant middle finger at the fledgling economy and raise its budget to unheard of levels. I would love to mock this decision, but I actually agree. Our church has grown in recent years from a quaint little operation where volunteers take care of everything and everybody knows your name (like Cheers!), to a legitimate business that needs a professional staff. Right now we have one minister and one office worker trying to meet the needs of a congregation approaching 300. Our poor office worker is desperately trying to walk on water and part the Red Sea at the same time. So, yeah, she needs some help. And fast.

Anyhoo, to accomplish this ambitious budget the board has decided to bring in a consultant. Someone to leap tall buildings in a single bound and reveal the identity of the fifth cylon. This prodigal son held a workshop a couple of weeks ago where he espoused brilliant ponderings such as, "You guys need to raise more money," and, "No, seriously. You guys need to raise more money!"

So last night the powerful ones crowded into our panicking room to unleash some level 5 panic! It was a sight to behold. These meetings always leave me somewhat bewildered. You see, I don't exactly fit into our "Go Gadget Go!" culture. Picture everyone speeding in sports cars on the interstate while yacking on cell phones and texting with their spare foot. In this analogy you would find me chugging along on the side of the road in a rusty tractor, typing Morse code and sipping Coca Cola out of a glass bottle.

During the onslaught of panicking, I apparently fell into a trance where I either volunteered, or was volunteered, to fulfill about 3,000 different tasks. You might recall that I intend to pursue ministry in a couple of years. The good news? I have the full support of my minister, Elizabeth. She has agreed to take me under her wing. The bad news? I am now her minion, and completely at her mercy.

There was a point during the meeting when our President announced a few particularly powerful names to serve as co-chairs of our fundraising committee. These are all well-respected, wealthy and accomplished individuals. Elizabeth chimed in with, "I would also like to appoint David Ward, the unemployed former sports writer who has absolutely no clue about money to also serve as a co-chair on this committee." I have to give our President credit. She may have failed at concealing her shock, but she did hold back any mocking laughter. Good for her!

I also agreed to help call everyone at our church with the exciting news that, "We're meeting with a financial consultant again in a couple of weeks, and you have the exciting opportunity to help badger people for money. Lucky devil, you!"

I believe I am also the board liaison to a search committee seeking to hire a full-time director of religious education. I believe the fact that Michael is currently enrolled in the preschool class qualified me for this position. I've never been a liaison before. Sounds French.

I think I also agreed to wash everyone's car and clean the toilets. I can't remember. It's all a blur.

Anyway, I'm sitting here blabbing away on this blog and desperately trying to avoid the 30 or so emails I've received since last night's panic session. I know that eventually I'll run out of things to write about, and I'll have to plow through the old inbox. It wouldn't be so bad if every ... single ... email didn't contain 10-page attachments filled with numbers and charts and gobbledy-gook.

Oh wait! I have something else I can write about (phew!). After checking out my lounge act last month, Elizabeth has decided to punish other churches and force them to endure my "Starrr Warrrs" routine. Plans are in the works for a possible appearance in Pocatello. That would be a nice homecoming of sorts, since April and I graduated from Idaho State University during my former life. Elizabeth is also trying to punish other unsuspecting churches around the state. So stay tuned for that.

Now, I just need to decide between breaking out the diamond-studded Neal Diamond jumpsuit, or rocking the Axle Rose spandex shorts and ripped football jersey.

Which would you pick kiddies?

- Dave

Duck Hunting

I usually try to avoid the topic of sports in this space. In my previous life I was a sports writer spending nearly every waking moment either thinking or writing about sports. High school football, college basketball, professional rodeo, horseshoes. You name it. When I started this blog I made a pact that I would avoid the subject of sports at all costs. I wanted to broaden my horizons and seek out new life and new civilizations.

I must say I've been rather successful in this endeavor so far. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. On that note, here goes nothing ......

MY BOISE STATE BRONCOS DEFEATED THE 17TH RANKED OREGON DUCKS LAST SATURDAY!!!!!!!!! IN EUGENE!!!!! THIS IS AWESOME BABY!!!

Head coach Chris Petersen (known simply as "Pete" in these parts) took a team filled with freshmen and sophomores into Autzen Stadium and pulled off a colossal upset. And the best part about it? I was there!!

My Dad and I piled into the Matrix last Friday and proceeded to invade the land of a thousand Dairy Queens for a weekend of good ole' college football. God bless America!! We endured an eight-hour drive and plenty of diner coffee, but it was worth it! I wish I could tell you that we withstood a barrage of attacks from evil Oregon Duck fans, but truth be told, the green and gold faithful were actually kind of nice. No scratch that. They were EXTREMELY nice. Apparently Oregonians spend their free time welcoming visitors. You know, when they're not enjoying delicious Dairy Queen meals.

My Dad and I had dinner Friday night at a local Outback Steakhouse. While waiting for a table, we sat down on a bench next to several Oregon fans. We were wearing our blue and orange Broncos gear and they didn't boo, throw stuff, or punch us. They actually started chatting with us about Eugene and the game. It was like a weird alternate universe where fans are friendly to each other and I'm suddenly really good at math.

We had the same experience standing in line for a shuttle to the game. An Oregon fan tapped me on the shoulder and I immediately braced for the "Boise sucks!!" insult. I got this instead .... "You know, the Fiesta Bowl has to be my all-time favorite game ever." What?!! (For those not from Boise, he was referring to the 2006 Fiesta Bowl where Boise State defeated Oklahoma in overtime on a trick play that nearly gave me a heart attack. In Boise all you have to say is "Fiesta Bowl," and complete strangers will immediately begin cheering).

We entered a pregame party at Oregon's indoor football facility and were immediately surrounded by hordes of green and gold. What did these fans do to the blue and orange out-of-towners in their midst? Why they came up and shook my hand, that's what! They said spiteful things like, "I really like Boise State, just not today," and "You guys have a great program." The nerve of these people!!

During the game my Dad and I cheered our lungs out for the Broncos and nobody threw tomatoes. Immediately following the game several Duck fans turned to me and said, "You've got a good football team. Good luck the rest of the way." Walking back to the hotel a driver rolled down his window and yelled, "Congratulations!"

The only negativity I encountered during the entire trip occurred when a group of Oregon students pointed to their shirts that read, "I farted ... and it smells like Boise State." I've got to admit that made me laugh, which says all you need to know about my level of sophistication. After enduring this onslaught of niceness for two entire days, I am at a complete loss for words.

One final thing. My Dad and I discovered quite the oddity while driving home. Apparently there are people in Oregon who feel compelled to pull their cars over, place their blizzards in the cup holder, walk out into the middle of the highway and throw their shoes over power lines. I can't explain it. I only know what I saw.

Go Broncos!!

- Dave

You've gotta believe

Hello friends. I figured I'd repeat some words of wisdom from Michael this morning. A couple of weeks ago the little guy noticed something was bothering his Grandma. He quickly walked up to her and delivered this wonderful advice --- "That's okay Grandma. You've just gotta believe yourself!!"

Genius!

Believe yourselves kiddies!

- Dave

What was I thinkin'?

Come over here a minute. Peek through this window into the stay-at-homer's world. Just don't tell anyone about what you see ---

Here's a story I heard recently from a friend of mine. Not me. A friend of mine. Definitely not me. Got it?!

So this friend of mine who is not me got himself into quite a pickle. Imagine this friend of mine who is not me trying to clean up junk out of the yard one fine afternoon. Everywhere he looks he sees dirt-covered toys that have not seen love and attention since the Reagan administration. Long forgotten mini footballs, plastic golf clubs, half-inflated inner tubes, and a few toys that have become somewhat unrecognizable. All remnants of a time before little Michael discovered computers (more on that topic in a future posting).

So this friend of mine who is not me began the arduous task of transporting this collection of misfit toys out of the yard and into some semblance of order on the patio. Most of the toys are hosed off and placed neatly in a pile, awaiting the moment little Michael discovers this orderly pile and immediately hauls the toys back out into the yard. (Michael and my friend who is not me have drastically different definitions of "order." My friend who is not me likes to label Michael's decorating style as "modern urban messy").

My friend who is not me, in one of his weaker moments, opts to throw away some of the more unrecognizable toys. In his defense, these are toys that little Michael has not even looked at for at least two years (he's 4, by the way). If he ever played with them at all.

One of the more tattered toys was a small stuffed bee covered in mud. Not an actual stuffed animal, mind you, but a remnant of a baby toy that I only remember as "the pad thingy that played classical music when baby Michael kicked it."

I'm guessing that all experienced parents of toddlers out there can fill in the rest of this sad tale of woe. Little Michael approached my friend who is not me early this morning as I, I mean my friend, stepped out of the shower. His little eyes were filled with tears and his voice quivered with stunning sadness as he exclaimed, "I ... sob, sob .... can't .... sob, sob ... find my ..... sooooobbbbb.... BEE!!!!!"

This particular sentence actually frightened my friend who is not me, as he pictured little Michael chasing an actual bee around the yard and finally discovering why Dad breaks out his patented "bee dance" each summer.

But thankfully Michael clarified himself before my friend who is not me suffered full cardiac arrest. "My PLAY bee .... sob, sob .... I can't find my PLAY bee .... sob!"

This is when my friend who is not me realized the sheer stupidity of his actions. Of course! Michael's play bee! The same "play bee" that Michael hasn't actually played with since he was a baby, and left out in the yard to rot! Why wouldn't Michael arbitrarily want to play with this forgotten toy the moment my friend who is not me threw it out? It makes perfect sense!

This parenting thing is hard!

Never throw away your toys kiddies!

- Dave

Stop fidgeting with the microphone!!!

That was exactly the sentence I was screaming in my head last Sunday while standing in front of a room full of people delivering my lounge act. People do all sorts of things when they are nervous. Some develop a twitch. Some burst out laughing uncontrollably. Others might go into a sneezing fit. I can now tell you with full confidence that my nervous habit involves relentlessly and compulsively tugging on a microphone. I realized I was doing this about halfway through my lounge act, but I still wasn't able to kick the habit. With every, "stop that you idiot!" thought that went through my brain, my left hand decided it would be funny to reach out and tug on the microphone yet again. Quite a cheeky monkey, that left hand of mine!!

I guess I should back up and explain a few things. I volunteered to unleash my lounge act on poor unsuspecting souls last Sunday at my church - The Boise Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. My friends Joe and Tom warmed up the crowd with a rousing session of drumming, and April followed with a stirring rendition of Brandi Carlile's "Have You Ever," while our friend Robb accompanied on guitar. With the crowd dutifully inspired and ready for a rousing speech, I proceeded to take the podium and do what I always do - let my "Starrrrr Warrrrssss!!!!!" lounge singer out of his cage. He was in rare form, I assure you. There were Rocky quotes, hockey references and the world's worst attempt at a British accent. He even unleashed the world premier of his "Riverdance." You can check out all of my lounge singer's shenanigans on-line by going to http://www.boiseuu.org/audio/ and clicking on the "Silencing Mr. Negativepants" speech.

I should warn you that a vast majority of the speech deals with my crazy plans for the future. You see, I have decided to embark on the path that all stay-at-home Dads eventually choose. That's right, I have decided to become a Unitarian Universalist Minister! This is the path I have chosen, and since I don't know any other stay-at-home Dads, I can only assume this is a common decision.

Now all I have to do is convince a certain graduate school of theology in California to let me and my lounge singer through the front door. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to accept an unemployed former sports writer who spends all day changing diapers and playing video games. Right? .....
Hello?

For those with really slow computers, fear not! Here is the cut-and-paste version of my speech:

And we may never meet again
So shed your skin let’s get started
And you will throw your arms around me
And you will throw your arms around me
- Mark Seymour

“SILENCING MR. NEGATIVEPANTS”

David M. Ward

Here’s a true story I’m sure you will enjoy. Several months ago I found myself sitting across a dinner table from Mr. Robert Fulghum. I was breaking bread with arguably the most famous Unitarian Universalist minister in the world. A man who just happens to have authored seven best-selling books, and according to his web site, “has more than 16 million copies of his books in print, published in 27 languages and 103 countries.” I might add that he’s a snappy dresser.

As a stay-at-home dad who counts trips to the doctor’s office and the grocery store as “social outings,” this was quite the event for yours truly. It was even more exciting for another, more personal, reason. You see, I was secretly harboring a desire to pursue ministry myself. That’s right boys and girls, we have breaking news. Dave wants to be a minister when he grows up! (Surprise!).

So there I was, eating dinner with the esteemed Robert Fulghum. Sitting across from “Mr. Kindergarten” himself, trying to act like I have dinner with world-renowned authors all the time and desperately trying to avoid spilling barbecue sauce all over myself. The conversation wafted between novels and camping and religious theology (we are UU’s after all!). There was a point in the conversation when the chatting hit upon the topic of ministry.

What happened next may have changed my life forever. (Hooked yet?).

My darling and beautiful wife, April, who could not keep a secret if the entire human race depended upon it, turned to the esteemed Rev. Fulghum and exclaimed, “My husband Dave wants to be a minister too!” You can imagine my reaction. Picture someone walking up to Andrea Bocelli and exclaiming, “My husband wants to be a singer, too!” I believe my cheeks displayed a nice shade of fire-engine red at that moment.

Thanks honey!

I say “thanks” in jest, but I really mean it. In actuality I need to wrap my arms around my wonderful wife and say “thank you” a thousand times with all of the sincerity I can muster. Her act of bravery, no matter how embarrassing at the time, brought forth a change in my life that may never have happened otherwise. From that moment forward I found the confidence to pursue my dream of ministry out in the open in front of friends and family. My “secret” ambition began taking shape and growing wings. For this I am forever grateful.

Those among us teeming with confidence may be asking, “If this is so important to you Dave, why didn’t you just tell Mr. Fulghum yourself?” That is a brilliant question requiring a very complex answer – Basically I’m chicken! I’m yellow! I’m a scaredy-cat!

I’ve spent the majority of my life battling a very powerful negative voice in my head. A voice putting me down whenever possible, and making me believe that I am not capable. I believe we all have a version of this negative voice, and some of us are better at silencing it than others. My own version of this negative voice is quite a character. I’ve christened him, “Mr. Ebenezer Negativepants.” He is a British butler, you see, and very strict. I like to picture him with a tuxedo and an eye glass. Mr. Negativepants actually has quite a flair for the dramatic, ending all of his snobby little comments with the phrase, “What, what!” A typical comment from old Negativepants goes something like this … “I do say, dear boy, that is a perfectly dreadful idea. What, what!”

In his mind, Mr. Negativepants has good intentions. His mission is to protect me from embarrassment and shield me from wants and desires he deems beyond my abilities. He sees himself as a grand protector. A guardian against pain and disappointment.

The problem is that by shielding me from potential pain and disappointment, he is also squeezing the nectar out of life. We all love a thrill every now and then. And some thrills are just as unpleasant as they are pleasant. I believe that raw emotion, no matter how blissfully breathtaking or painfully heartbreaking, ranks among life’s greatest gifts. To feel something is to be alive, and to feel truly alive is to live. Taking a “safe” and “painless” approach to life robs us of experiences and emotions that may lead us to our best selves.

I never fully realized this until I began attending services here at the Boise Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. I grew up basically without religion. I had no real notion of a higher power, and certainly no understanding of the transforming power within a loving and accepting community. I spent my formative years engulfed in our American society focused on individualism, negativity and fear. I have to say Mr. Negativepants thrived in this environment.

“Make sure you dress in the latest fashion, or the children will laugh at you!”

“Don’t say anything bloody stupid. You want to fit in, right?”

“Dear boy, do you honestly think these upstanding boys and girls deem you worthy of their presence. Don’t be silly! What, What!”

These pearls of wisdom arrived like clockwork from old Negativepants while I was growing up. My formative years were dominated by fear. Fear of looking stupid. Fear of saying something stupid. Fear of showing just who I really was. My only relief surfaced in theater class, where I felt free to cut loose and have some fun. I was only acting, you see.

My early adulthood featured more of the same. I developed tremendous shyness and crafted a wall between myself and others. Everything changed with my introduction to the Unitarian Universalist faith. I began attending services on Sunday mornings, and it wasn’t long before I realized the immense gift that life truly is. It’s hard to deny the fact that there is a special reverence with every breath we take. It’s simply beautiful. Watching people stand on this very podium each week and share their immense talents, without a hint of fear or shame, has liberated my thinking and allowed me to tear down the wall brick by brick. I discovered, as the saying goes, that life is too short for compromising. Life is too short for playing it “safe” and blindly following old Negativepants.

I believe our job is to take full advantage of this wonderful gift of life. Seek happiness at every possible avenue, no matter how scary the journey. If we fail to do this, out of some fear of failure, we don’t pay proper respect to the unnamable forces that put us on this grand Earth, under beautiful blue skies and here with this loving community.

How about you? Do you fight with your own version of Mr. Negativepants? Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, yet never summoned the confidence to pursue? It definitely doesn’t have to be as dramatic as a one-way ticket to seminary. (Not everyone is as crazy as I am). It could be a trip you’ve always wanted to take, or a hobby you’ve always wanted to try. Maybe you’ve always wanted to take a cruise to Alaska. Or sing in a choir. Or learn to river dance. The possibilities are endless. The point is, if you’ve struggled to reach out of your comfort zone and pursue your true passion, now is the time to do it! Tell that negative voice in your head to pipe down and listen to YOU for a change! Take charge of your life once and for all! Book that cruise. Dust off that old guitar. Write that novel. Become the Lord of the Dance. As Mickey so eloquently phrased it in the classic movie, Rocky II, “What are we waiting for? Tickets?”

Now that I’ve got you all revved up, please allow me the opportunity to throw in a disclaimer. There is definitely a right way and a wrong way to pursue your dreams. The wrong way involves little or no actual self analysis. It also goes without saying that hurting others at the expense of pursuing your own happiness is a very, very bad idea. Your family might miss you if you suddenly fly off to Hawaii chasing your long-lost dream of becoming a surfing champion.

Before you make any rash decisions, I implore you to reach deep within your soul and carefully analyze all of the factors involved. Is this something that would truly bring you happiness? Are you dedicated to following through? Do you have the blessing of your loved ones, and everyone this decision would affect the most? And finally, does this decision “feel” right? Take as much time as you need to carefully ponder all of these questions. If the answer is “no” to any of them, please don’t do it. Mr. Negativepants may be a practical chickenpants, but he is not stupid. That negative voice in your head does come from the “must protect you at all costs” portion of your brain. There are times when we should actually, gasp, listen.

As a stay-at-home dad, I am constantly bombarded with the same question. “What do you think you’ll do when you go back to work?” My snide answer until recently was, “I think I’m going to try professional hockey. I just need to learn to ice skate first!”

Obviously some dreams don’t make practical sense. However, if you have truly looked within yourself, analyzed all of the various factors, and discussed it thoroughly with your loved ones, then I don’t see any reason to wait for your dreams to come to you. It’s time to seize them outright.

I believe the hardest step in this entire process is that initial jump into the pool of uncertainty. Taking your innermost desires and making them public, without any clue how people will react. Will they laugh? Will they stand up and cheer? At this point it’s anybody’s guess what the reaction will be. Some of us need our better halves to give a little push. And some just need support. Someone to look them in the eye and say, “I believe in you.” For what it’s worth, you should know that I do believe in you. I may not know you, and I may not have any idea what your secret ambition is. It doesn’t matter. If you have truly looked within and emerged with the confidence to go forward, then that’s good enough for me. I believe in you. Period.

Now, if you just return the favor and believe in me, then we’ve got the ingredients for something special.

After you take your initial plunge and put the decision out there for all to see, the next greatest challenge emerges – Dealing with negative feedback. This is where Mr. Negativepants really shines. Any time you leave your comfort zone you can expect at least a few reactions that, shall we say, stray from the positive. The key here is to listen closely, acknowledging any potential truths, without letting the negativity fester.

This might be a good time to revisit my fateful dinner with Rev. Fulghum. As you can imagine, the moment April uttered the words I was too scared to say myself, Mr. Negativepants unleashed a tantrum for the ages. He immediately began jumping up and down on my slumping shoulders yelling, “Bloody bad! Bloody bad! Bloody bad!!” Compiling matters was a less-than-enthusiastic reaction from the esteemed Reverend.

In a perfect dream world, Fulghum would have jumped out his chair, thrown his arms up and exclaimed, “Yes! I see it! You are so charming, and handsome and undoubtedly brilliant! You are exactly what we’ve been looking for!”

Let’s just say it didn’t exactly happen that way. Fulghum’s actual response was more like, “Now what would you want to go and do a thing like that for?”

“Well,” I answered in what I hoped was my most sincere minister-like voice, “I’d love a chance to spread a positive message and help people in any way I can.”

“If you want to help people, then go be a fireman!,” was his final answer.

I must stress that Rev. Fulghum was suffering from an extremely painful case of Shingles at the time, and relying upon a steady diet of Codeine just to function. I am convinced that his reaction was more a product of pain and exhaustion than any slight toward me.

In any case, my secret ministry ambition is revealed to Robert Fulghum, and I am immediately told to, “Go be a fireman.” Not exactly the rave reviews I was craving, but I survived it. And I promise you the first time you get laughed at wearing your new Lord of the Dance leotard, you will survive as well. We humans are nothing if not resilient.

Several of my very close friends were also present at the dinner, and their reaction was extremely enthusiastic. These were the reactions I paid close attention to. By gaining the support of people who truly know and care about me, my confidence flourished.

Around this same time I was reading a wonderfully inspirational book by Cheryl Richardson entitled The Unmistakable Touch of Grace. Richardson writes about paying very close attention to your life, and watching for signs of “grace” that often come your way. Basically keeping your eyes and ears open for opportunities, and silencing old Negativepants when he tries to discourage you from pursuing them. One particularly moving chapter asks the reader to write down a motivational phrase that Richardson has penned in a journal or a notebook. I was game for anything at that time, so I slowly wrote out the phrase, “I am open to receiving the gift of grace. I ask to be shown exactly what I need to do to achieve this goal or something better.” I also added a second phrase, “Surrender and be patient. Grace is on the way.”

I stuffed this piece of paper in my wallet, and it still resides there today. I often pull it out and read it during occasions when I need a confidence boost, or just a little guidance. Whatever works, right?

Armed with the support of my friends, along with this motivational “can-do” in my wallet, I set out on a journey to find the “gift of grace.” I’m happy to report I found grace waiting for me at every turn. I sprung the, “Surprise, I want to be a UU minister!,” speech on my family and they responded with more love and support than I ever thought possible. I cornered several members of this congregation, relaying my crazy ambition, and they were equally encouraging. Finally, I took a deep breath and waltzed into our minister Elizabeth Greene’s office a couple of weeks ago for what ended up being one of the most honest and productive conversations I have ever had. Our loving minister was very supportive and has offered guidance as I embark on this strange new path. She did mention that I needed to work on my, you guessed it, confidence. So it appears old Negativepants and I have some unfinished business after all.

Today I stand before this fellowship asking each of you to join me in this remarkably liberating action of silencing Mr. Negativepants and chasing your dreams. Whatever they may be. Personally, I can attest that these last few months have been as scary, suspenseful, thrilling and rewarding as anything I have ever experienced. I feel liberated. I feel vindicated. Most of all, I feel utterly and truly alive.

Now it’s your turn …. What, what!!

------

Go get 'em kiddies!

- Dave