Goodbye, My Trusty Steed

It was Summer 2010 and I was diligently searching for a car. Or a truck, SUV, Jeep, wagon, hatchback...even a minivan. ANYTHING that would replace the untrustworthy 1998 Jetta I was driving. My preference was a Dodge Intrepid in the 2001-2004 range, equipped with the rare 3.5L high-output engine.

Must see! Sunday driver, garage kept!
Previous owner was a wee little granny!

But as the word "rare" implies, there just weren't any 3.5L Intrepids to be found unless I'd settle for a retired police cruiser with 200k miles and a penchant for guzzling oil.

The engine rattles a little...we spent most of the past 198,000 miles chasing
little grannies through corn fields and gravel quarries on Sundays.
They sure knew how to evade capture...but their cars were always in the local Garage.

The Case of the Wayward Bullet

One sleepy, quiet afternoon late in October, a large-caliber rifle broke the still air with a sharp crack. The bullet left the barrel of the firearm without fuss and traveled gracefully through the countryside, spiralling majestically as it passed over a highway, through a row of trees, and into the quaint little home of an equally quaint little lady.

I had known absolutely nothing about the bullet, the house, or the little lady until my mom sent me a text two weeks later with the message: "Is it true a bullet went thru [Sweet little lady]'s house into her living room. Did you make it right with her?"

I was flabbergasted. Bullet? House? Little woman? Reparations?? I drove straight over to the woman's home to investigate. The sweet little lady was home and invited me in. I introduced myself, briefly mentioning who my parents and grandparents are so she could accurately place me. I then explained where I lived and that I had just heard about a stray bullet. She nodded her head and said, "Here, I'll show you."

Unexpected Hospital Detour

"Have you ever been admitted into the hospital for DK?" The nurse asked me.

Even though my brain seemed to be racing, the rest of my body felt trapped in molasses--including my tongue.

I mumbled, "Uh, what is DK?"

"Diabetic Ketoacidosis." She replied.

"I don't think so." I responded.

For many of you, the following account of my visit to the ICU will make absolutely no sense. "Shawn did WHAT?!" You may say.  To some of you, what I did will make a good deal of sense. Unfortunately, I can't tell you about everything first-hand...many of the events had to be told to me once I regained consciousness.

My Jesus is Life-changing.

"Why do bad things happen to good people if that Jesus character is as powerful as you say He is?" many have asked. God is in the business of changing lives, but because He has promised to give us free choice, He never forces that change on us. This may be a simple concept, but simple is not equated with easy. We get to choose our own way, but we reap the consequences of it as well.

Despite the overall badness of our society, God Himself is good. He is so good. These two-dimentional words on a screen that you're reading right now cannot portray the depth of emotions that flood through one's heart and soul when the Creator of the universe bends down and whispers, "I love you, my child."

There have been many times that Abba Father has whispered His favor to me, but each time is fresh and unique and unforgettable. How often I forget that God is truly relational and wants nothing more than time spent with His children. I'm grateful for His constant reminders.

Seeing others experience that same connection with their Heavenly Father is incredibly rewarding. I had the pleasure of participating in a Land of Promise conference this past week where I saw men and women removing hindrances between them and their Maker and basking in His love. Our group of 160, though strangers to each other, felt completely at home worshiping and praying and crying and generally behaving like we'd all been swept up in the Charismatic Movement. It was truly glorious.

Seeing a famous person's life changed in the same manner is a rare treat, so I was floored when I saw the radical life-change and equally radical testimony of Lacey Sturm. Don't know who she is? Well hold on to your suspenders, I'm about to tell you.

Apprenticeship Training

I am a member of several online forums, but I hardly sign in to check messages. I signed in to one this afternoon and saw the notification for an unread message. Upon inspection of the message, it was entirely in a form of Cryllic text.
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Сколько ни прогоняй грустные размышления, а они всё равно тебя достанут. Я в очередной раз раздумывала о том, что в моей судьбе не достаёт эмоций, сочных красок, хороших новостей. А, возможно, нужно хоть что-то сделать, чтобы внести изменения в такую обстановку? Например, куда-либо сходить с друзьями. Определить, в конце концов, за какую цену можно сбыть старенькую машину и приобрести более новую. Отослать резюме и сменить надоевшую работу. Следовательно, мне требуется различная информация о нашем Житомире. Выбрать достойный информативный сайт города оказалось нетрудно.

олевский янтарь

Заинтересовавшись событиями города, я даже запамятовала, зачем заходила. Как оказалось, у нас в развлекательном центре вскоре открытие выставки, премьерный показ мелодрамы,а я раздумывала, куда же новенький пуловер одеть! А тут и перерыв на работе истёк. Засияло солнышко, и реальность перестала казаться настолько бесцветной. Тем более, что я таки составила и отослала личное резюме. Да и одна работа меня уже привлекла. Правильно считается, важные изменения стартуют с незначительных усилий.
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Normally I'd just delete such spammery, but this time I was intrigued enough to investigate. I tossed the text into Google Translate and it came out with the following:

[Detected language: Russian]

No matter how much banishes sad reflections, and they still would get you. I once again wondered about that in my life lacks emotions, rich colors, good news. And, you may need at least do something to make a change in this situation? For example, somewhere to go with friends. Determine, in the end, at what price can sell an old car and buy a new one. Send resume and replace the boring work. Therefore, I need different information about this Zhitomir. Choose a worthy informative site of the city was easy.

Olevskii amber

Intrigued by the events of the city, I even have forgotten why sign up. As it turned out, in our entertainment center soon opened an exhibition premiere of melodrama, and I was thinking, where is a brand new sweater dress! A break here and at work has expired. The sun shone, and the reality is no longer seem so colorless. Especially because I was still private and sent the resume. And one work has already attracted me. Properly considered, important changes start with little effort.

Now I'm just intrigued even more. Whoever you are, dear Forum Note Sender, I hope you get yourself a brand new sweater dress.

[Insert Eye-Catching Yet Informative Title Here]

"Your friends are sending me some pictures of our skydive. It was amazing; you shoulda been there."

I said to Heather, the sales rep that hooked me up with the skydiving trip. 

Heather laughed, "I know! I couldn't make it because I went to a wedding instead. My friends sent a few photos to me while I was at the wedding. But I'm planning to go skydiving next year. Wanna go again?"

I paused. 

"Yes!" 

My hesitation was because I decided I need to start saving up for skydiving.

Shelby walked into the shop, heard two words, and said "Skydiving?"

Heather asked, "Are you interested in going too?"

"Sure. I need to save some money to go, though." He replied. 

Shane burst through the shop door, nose twitching. Without hearing a word of our conversation, he turned and said, "Skydiving!" 

Heather laughed and said "Would you like to go along with

"YES." Shane interrupted.  

Cue song: "It's Rainin' Men."

November has been a busy month. Once I have a spare moment to collect my thoughts, I'll tell you all about the wedding, the funeral, the road trip, the deer collision, and the other road trip to the other wedding. With the way things have been scheduled, I'll have some spare time to blog in April 2016. 

For those of you that take time to read my oft-neglected blog, thanks. I appreciate that. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! 

Adrenaline Junkie

Yesterday I fell out of an airplane.
While it was flying.
On purpose.
I've got the story and the documentation to prove it.

It started a few months ago when I discovered that Heather, a sales rep that works with our business, has a pilot's license and several jumps under her belt.

Full disclosure: it actually started 21 years ago when I learned how to ride a bicycle, and therefore began to speed on things with wheels.

I asked Heather to let me know when the next jump would be happening. A month ago, she informed me that some of her friends were getting a group together to skydive. "Are you still interested?" She asked me. "Ab. So. Lutely." I replied.

I was contacted by Heather's friend Kathy, one of the jumpers. Over the phone, she sounded completely thrilled that I was joining. Perhaps because my interest confirmed that there were other humans as crazy as herself. The fact that I made the group large enough to get a discounted rate was a bonus. Kathy informed me that "Kathy, spelled with a C" was in charge of the group. I talked with Cathy and found her to be just as exuberant about skydiving as Kathy was. Cathy informed me that I could bring along a friend if I wanted, so I set out to find someone as wantonly reckless as myself.

My friend Anne has been laboring away at the University of Iowa for quite some time, and I determined that she could use a break from her studies. What better way to relax than to get thrown out of an airplane? I imagine there are various alternative activities you would recommend, dear reader, but then you're most likely not a Graber. I asked Anne if she wanted to join, and she replied, "I would totally go but I should perhaps converse with my parents. They might be concerned for my safety." An excellent course of action, and one that I deliberately avoided because my parents are always concerned for my safety, so why bother them with additional worries?

You'd never suspect that Anne is a borderline 

maniac, but then you'd be wrong.