A five day mountaintop reset with family and friends comes to an end today mostly because of my dog.

He’s in good hands but I miss his company and I’m returning a day early to surprise him.

Not sure my experience is healthy as he’s just a dog but I also hate when people say he’s just a dog when he represents so much more.

A warm little body who curls up against mine any chance he gets. The reassuring hug around my neck I never ask for but instinctively he knows when to give. The gaze into my eyes at random moments just to be sure I’m okay and that we’re good.

Dogs live solely to please us and care for us at times when human embrace is in short supply.

Yes, he’s just a dog but he’s a better human than most of humanity and sometimes we just need to return the favor.

It’s not confusion, or even a faulty premise that took a left turn somewhere.
But in those few minutes of an early morning conversation with God when you’re seeking some collective noun to describe an unsettling set of circumstances that, individually, don’t add up to much, but together seem overwhelming and more than you can wrap your head around even after a third mug of coffee.
This, my friends, is where God lives and works and demonstrates his namesake.
So while I chip away to find some meaning and purpose to this cluster of concerns before they take me down a rabbit hole into an abyss of emotions, thanks to God, my hope is already being knitted into a fine explanation and sensible outcome.
Mornings like these are the very essence of faith over fear.

Like you, I’m tempted in a half-dozen ways I could very easily slip up on my convictions and eagerly go down that rabbit hole to self-destruction and certain disaster.

While triggers these days seem smaller, they’re a lot more widespread and plentiful, planted in my purview, hoping I’ll pay them just a brief acknowledgement as I walk through my day during which, given the opportunity, take root.

I start each morning with acknowledgement that I am weak and vulnerable, powerless to the crippling of my good intentions apart from my faith in One who guides me blindfolded through the daily minefields.

“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain” was the Wizard of Oz warning that poignantly illustrated this personal battle for me from a very young age.

You’re susceptible to your own rabbit holes, but you have means of avoiding them if you’ll make it your mission to humbly do so this morning and every morning.

I wish you many victorious successes today and every day. 

As culture wars heat up, society breaks down, and the two camps fortify their positions, it’s harder and harder to find a little humor to lighten the load enough to make it bearable.

Truth is, I’m not sure making things bearable is even a noble goal any longer.

Issues once resolvable are now so poisoned and polarizing there’s no wiggle room for even a little giggle.

And while mirth has been my worth and contribution during decades of battles, I find that today’s kings no longer summon jesters for comic relief, but enlistment in a war of their own making or banishment altogether.

10 years ago tomorrow, I accepted an offer to work in the most challenging and rewarding career of my life; keeping a roof over the heads of those who would otherwise end up on the street.
Ironically, just months before, that’s where I was… at nights asking for leftover soups from Panera and chicken from KFC at closing time, and by day job hunting for something more meaningful than my $9/hour custodian job at The Crossing Church for which I was thankful, but far from fulfilled.
Thank you to HopeLink of Southern Nevada for taking a chance on me and my fallen but redeemed history.
It’s a place for second chances for everyone and part of my own redemption story ever since.

Debt.
We accrue mounds of it over our lifetime. So easily buried in it with nobody to blame for our condition except ourselves.
And it’s not just a money thing. Debts are also the accumulation of bad decisions, deliberate deceptions, and wrongs that leave others and ourselves with an immense body count in the wake.
Worst part is nothing we can do or say can erase the hurt and pain that will otherwise consume us both while alive and beyond.

But then came Easter.

I’ve never been much of a winner but my luck appears to be changing.

I attended a seminar in the ballroom of a major Strip resort yesterday afternoon. After the 500 attendees were seated and before the program began, I noticed each of my colleagues had a little red raffle ticket. As one of the very first arrivals, I’d registered before the red roll of tickets made its way to the table by the name badges, I’d missed out. We all laughed at the fact and it really didn’t matter to me anyway. 500 to 1 were slim chances for everyone. Our odds for world peace seemed a better wager.

As the program was beginning a passing staffer asked our table if we’d all been given our raffle tickets and again we all burst out laughing that the topic of a silly raffle ticket emerging at our table for the third time. I remarked at the oddity that if I’d been given a ticket at registration it would most certainly have been the winning one. Seeing I had no ticket at my place setting, she dropped one as the house lights dimmed, the stage was lit, and the program was underway.

It was an hour later before the start of the cocktail afterparty when the ladies at the stage dug into a shiny silver bowl, pulled a ticket and announced the raffle winner.

0682…036. They got my number.

The cheers were deafening as if our table had won the Super Bowl and the response back from the surrounding sea of hopefuls in the ballroom was that we were just a little too excited at the victory.

What I won was irrelevant, the most important part of yesterday was less about me having the winning ticket and so much more about eight complete strangers at our table bonding like best friends within 60 minutes.

I call that my lucky takeaway of the day.