PFN Recap For Me

Recapping Prayer and Fellowship Night from last Saturday night I was thinking about how lost I felt praying for Greg's requests. I simply couldn't remember them very well. By looking at a scripture tonight I was reminded about how the Spirit intercedes for us when we pray, getting across what we can't in our own words, to God. I think it also applies when we want to ask God for something, but feel outright selfish asking for it (Imp, I know how you feel).

Romans 8:26-28:

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according for his purpose."

Have a wonderful Friday!

There's Something About Mary

Ok, just a title to draw your attention. Or is it? Some of you know Mary, so don't draw your own conclusion. Really, I just had a great time chatting last night with my friend Mary and Melissa at Cambridge Coffee. I saw some of the remnants of the "girls' night out" hanging around but didn't want to disturb; was going to get coffee anyway. Then, I parked next to Mary's car and when she went to leave I gave her a call.

We sat and talked for a while and it was very enjoyable. Our friend Melissa came along and chatted for a while. I just find some things Mary says interesting ideas and sometimes they catch me off gurad. Wow, there is no point to this other than I had a great hour and a half with some friends. Thanks!

A Porcelain Heart

A porcelain heart, you ask? Yes a porcelain heart. I went to a concert last week that gave me such a beautiful picture of the heart of a Christian, no matter what the circumstance. More will come later about that awesome event, but this blog is for all my friends who have a broken or hurting heart. Not just a lost love, but any situation. First I want to preface with some simple trivia.

Porcelain is a pretty common material in our lives now days. You'll find it mostly in fine china, toilets and sinks, and floor tiles. I've dealt mostly with floor tiles, so we can use that for an example. It starts off simply as clay, colored to the desired hue, is fired in very intense heat, and fired far beyond your average clay tiles. Clay floor tiles are fired at lower heat then simply covered with a glaze fired on to cover the blandness. Porcelain tiles are not glazed and they are solid color all the way through. The greater heat make them much harder and durable than clay. This is why only porcelain tiles can be used outside in extreme temperatures, especially the cold. The others crack. Furthermore, if the porcelain tile is cracked or chipped the color goes all the way through so it is not as easily noticeable. So, porcelain floor tiles are much better and more preferred if you have the budget for it. Ready to buy tile? Keep these facts in mind.

Now back to the Christian heart. The other night in the car I was listening to the glorious song by Barlow Girl titled "Porcelain Heart," again. It is even on the cd twice. It just really hit me how much our hearts are like porcelain. Yeah, it is illustrated in the song, but I came up with all these pictures and facts to further illustrate the point. I guess God was making me think deeper. So, porcelain is a perfect way to think about how God made our hearts.

Our hearts are made of the porcelain, forged in extreme heat and made to be pure and resilient to life's wear and tare. Our hearts are the most sought after part of our being and at the core of our existence. The Christian heart should be stronger to last through the most difficult of trials and when "chipped" remains the same in color all the way through. Plain and simple, they last longer and still look beautiful. But, the heart can be broken and shattered still. So what happens then? Well, ask Humpty Dumpty. No.

I really don't know anyone on Earth who can put porcelain or clay back together again, perfectly, without flaw to be found. You watch the antiques road show and see professionals pick up on cracks and chips that folks tried to fix really well. It just takes away from the value when people try to fix some things. But that's where God comes in and fixes us, "mends" us. He makes us into "beauty once again." No person or thing can do this, only God in His more than sufficient love and grace (don't get me started on another Barlow Girl song). There is probably not anyone who can put a piece of porcelain or clay back together perfect. So friends out there who are broken put your heart in God's hands and let Him make you whole! There it is folks. The bare fact of the Christian heart is out, thanks to Barlow Girl. Actually thanks to God for blessing them with awesome talents and the guts to share it.

Now, I have to put the lyrics here for you because that would be cruel not to. But don't take my word for it, go buy the cd (Another Journal Entry). All the songs are awesome.

Porcelain Heart by Barlow Girl

Broken heart one more time

Pick yourself up, why even cry

Broken pieces in your hands

Wonder how you'll make it whole

You know, you pray

They cry, you say

Something's gotta change

And mend this porcelain heart of mine

Someone said "A broken heart

Would sting at first

Then make you stronger"

You wonder why this pain remains

Were hearts made whole just to break

Creator only You take brokenness

And create it into beauty once again

Melissa, Chris, Crystal, and Amy, this blogs for you. :)

Visit http://barlowgirl.com/new_discography/discography.asp for the lyrics

and a sample of the song.

Born on the 10th of September

September is a terrible time to have your birthday. I'm not blaming my parents because I was born late. My fault completely. I was actually due in August, about the same time. Yes, I actually procrastinated my own birth. This explains a lot. But back to reality, September just seems to be a bad time for a birthday, especially the tenth. Anybody know why? Hmm...maybe because of the eleventh. At least I decided to get out before the eleventh. No offense to anyone born on the eleventh. They have an even bigger reason to dread the day now. Still not sure why? Look at the picture. What happened to the building on September 11, 2001?

You probably already know where I'm going with this. Yes, it is simply terrible to have your happy birthday on September tenth, because the very next day your brought back to the somber reality of life and morbidity. So many people died on the eleventh. They are still dealing with it to this day and some will always be dealing with the grief and loss of loved ones, friends, and co-workers. I can't imagine that. If my ex-wife had been in those buildings I seriously would have lost my mind at the time. This is where we take a side story.

On a cool morning in January, 1998, the twenty-ninth to be exact, I got back to from my early morning class and decided to flip on the t.v. in the dorm. This was in the nice days at Samford when I had no big life pressures. Dating was great; we had even started talking about marriage. I'm talking about my ex-wife Julie. Well, I turned on the old t.v. to watch whatever. As flipped through the channels all the news stations were broadcasting live from UAB's campus in Southside. Then thoughts began to flood my head. "Southside?! Wait, that's where Julie goes to school." Yes, her masters. "What's going on? A bomb? Where? Who was hurt? An abortion clinic. Why? Where near UAB?" Then they went on to tell exactly where. I was freaking out. Very much. I think I contained it somehow. At some point my roomies began piling into "disfuntion junction (another story)." I repeated what I knew.

Ok, I was flipping out. A bomb had gone off in front the "women's health" clinic in Southside killing a woman and injuring a security guard. "What woman? Who? Ok, Julie was not going any clinic; she's safe." I stayed glued to the t.v. for a long time. I kept seeing pictures over and over again that showed the road down which Julie parked to go to class. Yes, and they were not letting anyone down it, had the ATF on scene, and the FBI on scene. Ok, now I'm trying to figure out how to call Julie. I couldn't. It turns out the bomb went off at the clinic across the street from Al's restaurant, which was directly next to the parking lot where Julie parked.

Around 11a.m. she called. She was alive, o.k., but could't come home. Yeah, she could not get in her car. All the cars in the parking lot and near the scene had to be processed, searched, whatever to be cleared by the FBI of suspician. So, I went down to pick her up. Later we drove around the area and I realized how close she had been to domestic terrorism.

She had arrived at work early, about 7:30a.m. maybe. She parked, walked to class about 300 yards away, and was safe. But had she decided to arrive a little later and walk to the corner by Al's to cross the street, she could have been hit by the simple dynamite and nails bomb placed there by Eric Robert Rudolph. I thank God even now she got there early! The relief of still having my love was so great.

Wondering what this has to do with my birthday or September 11? I didn't lose any friends or family in 2001, especially on 9/11, as we call it. So I guess I can't relate to what those people feel, think, and know aside from my experience in 1998 here in Birmngham. Two things I have heard over and over from people lately. First, America and the world changed on 9/11/2001. Did it? Did the world stop turning, reverse direction, or lose any oxygen because of the events? No. But what did change? The people; the people changed. Some were angry, some torn up inside, some flung into fear, prejudice, and regret or revenge. Almost everyone I know sees something about life differently since the evets. We worry about traveling, about going in tall buildings, or what to say to certain people we meet in public, because of the background they come from! How did you change? How did you feel? How do you feel now? Seriously, leave me a comment and let me know. I'm just curious.

The second things I have heard so much is, "Where were you on 9/11?" or "What were you doing then?" I was sitting at home in the apartment we rented in Bluff Park getting ready to do some house work or something (I don't remember). I do remember calling Julie on her cell; yeah, was worried about her being near tall buildings. No joke. I had no teaching job yet and was sitting around at home hoping to hear from Birmingham City Schools, so I was glued once again to the t.v. Julie was o.k. and had heard what had happened. Two days later I got the call to go teach. I was still in shock, but it was weird that no one at school talked about it much in the office. But the students I met were confused and shocked like all of us were. "Why would someone do this?" they asked. I had a friend from our church that had moved away that was a retired Air Force pilot that on that morning boarded a plane out of Boston. He was the pilot and headed to the west coast. He later was commanded to land in Chicago's O'Hare for about three days. He departed the same air port as one or two of the planes used for the event, just an hour or two earlier. A day or two passed before it dawned on me of the connection with him and I wondered how he was. Months later he came to visit and told us his story. Wow! God was looking out for him. So where were you on that morning and what were you doing? I would love to know.

At first, I hated this question. It got old quick. But then I though about where I was, friends or family. I began to realize how as Christians we can look back at God's footprints in our lives and see where He placed us in life, or circumstances, to protect us. People do die, Christian or not. But they never die until God has finished using them to cary out His will. And then there are the lives he uses even after death to touch others. So many stories have re-surfaced lately about how others touched survivors of 9/11. It is amazing to listen to some of these stories. It is amazing to see how God uses us, each one, to "add to the beauty" of life (as Sara Groves would say). When I think about it fills me with life and creates a beautiful picture in my mind.

So, what else does my little story up there have to do with my b-day or 9/11? Well, the same year the Birmingham clinic was bombed I proposed to Julie. Ok, so what other connections are there? I propsed on September 11, 1998. Yes, the day after my birthday and the same day of the year as the ill-fated attacks. I was always bitter about that happening on that date. And what else happened later on to make me dislike that date? I was divorced. But five years later I see that no matter what day you were born on, life goes on and that day is not about one person. So omany things can happen in a day, good or bad, and we are players for God in that day. Not pauns, but players.

God is like the an athletic conference administrator. Our parents, the coaches. The day we are conceived we are recruited and put on the bench in a fresh jersey. The day we are born we are pulled off the bench and put into the game of our lifetime. We can get fouls, go out of bounds, get technicals, and sometimes God can "fine" us for certain actions. But what we do in the game, how we play, is determined by our coaching and training, as well as our own ambitions. Our "goal" is to "defend" the faith and "pass" it on. So on my thirtieth naked-suit-premier-day plus one I am reminded by God to live life according to a certain competiveness so that our team can win (which we know we already have, but still...). And we must continually recruit others to carry on the tradition of building great records.

I hope you are having a blessed day and had or will have a great b-day this year. Thanks for reading this late night banter about whatever you think it was about. If you got this far you must truly be someone I am close to or should be closer to knowing. Maybe tomorrow I'll actually proof read it and edit it to make some more sense. Good night on this quiet 9/11/06.

David P. Simmons

What Men Want (at least some of us)

I've always liked women that did not, I repeat-did not, wear a lot of makeup. When you go out to the mall and see women that almost look like a geisha because they wear so much makeup, does it drive you crazy? It does me. It can be a beautiful woman, but why so much makeup? But it doesn't end there. Some ladies have to dress up everywhere they go. They can't simply dress down. I like women who can let loose and go to the store in sweats, or run grab coffee without looking like they're going to church. Why can't I find a woman who can go enjoy life without feeling like they have to be always made up?

The truth is, I have many friends (ladies) who are like this. But, how do I tell them that I don't think they need makeup at all to be beautiful, or to lose those extra 10 pounds. I've heard several of these friends lately comment in conversation with other women about how they feel like they need to lose weight. That's the other point I have. I like women who are healthy. Definition: not grossly overweight or never active physically. These women are active and all in shape, at least in my opinion. They are hot! Yes, I said that; they are hot. Why do they need to lose weight. And I did tell them that I though they had reason to feel self-conscious or that they needed to lose the weight. But still, they don't hear what was said. In fact one got a "wow" out of me, something I reserve for only the most attractive women (my opinion here). It just slipped right out, but it was sincere. Guess what she had no makeup on and the hair was not done. When I saw her in her athletic clothes, yeah, just as hot. She needed no weight loss. Ok, I'll stop there with that.

Another lady said she thinks she needs to lose weight. She works out, but it hasn't made any difference in how I see her. Yes, she has lost weight, but you know what I mean. I was already attracted. But she does feel the same as me on the makeup. Thank goodness. She has a great face, among everything else.

So why do many men like makeup and lots of it? I like to see the real person. A little is ok at times. But I mean my goodness, not three pounds. And why do some women have to always be so obsessed with "the workout?" Come one guys. Why do they expect it from a woman.

Ok, it's late I'm tired and not making a big point, but you've read this far. My whole point is:
I want to find a woman who likes to be active (activity partner) whether sports, outdoors, whatever; a woman who doesn't feel she has to put makeup on all the time and never a lot; and a woman not obsessed with always working out to loose ten pounds when I think she looks hot as it is. My whole point. And in addition, guys stop expecting so much from a woman. I mean, look at what you do. Do you shave all the time like she wants (if she does)? Do you work out with her? Do you keep clean like she likes? To you ladies, I'm single, available, clean (except when at work), would work out with you if you want, you don't have to wear makeup, and I will still check you out in your sweats. Then, when we go out to a nice sit down dinner, yeah, look out. I'll bring a sponge! :)

Two Days in Two Years

Two years. It's been two years since you walked out the door. Last year on this day I didn't think about it. This year it's hitting me harder. I miss you. I love you, still. But that love has changed. It's not romatic love; it's the love for a friend. You are still special to me, always will be. But that's the way it is. Just that, nothing more. Just a simple, uncomplicated love. Sometimes I smile when I think about the good times we shared, not often, but sometimes. And there were many. Thank you for the time that you gave your heart to me.

Last night I was depressed, simply that. No reason, except for today at 8:45p.m. cst it will be exactly two years since you gave up on me, us. I've never known you to give up on anything, before that day. But love can change, life can change, hearts can change. And with change comes new things. That's where my friends kicked in last night, called me to go hang out. One of them an ex-girlfriend and now awesome friend, that I also loved; the other just a great friend. Maybe it was God sending me relief from self pitty and despair. Either way, they were a part of that change, that different life I now lead. I don't regret this experience, just some decisions way back when... . I'm glad for this experience. It reminds me that God hasn't finished with me yet, hasn't given up on making me someone special. And just maybe someone special enough for someone else, again someday.

That's for someday later on down the road. Now is when I remember your smile, your eyes, your hair-that familiar smell, those "legs," the laughter and sound of your voice-barely, your warmth. But then I think about the hurt, the pain in your words, the coldness that crept in took over your heart, and now mine. The depression is gone, except these two days in August. The first time in a while I've spent this much effort thinking about life then and now. Despite the hurt between us, I still can't hold it to you. I was wrong many times, and so were you. Yes, I think more than you will admit. But that doesn't matter. That's your opinion, as this is mine. I forgive you.

Yes, I forgive you of all the hurt, pain, words, actions, feelings you expressed, just as much or more as I hope you can forgive me for what I did. One thing I've learned is that I have to be open. You can't make good music without expression. You live life pouring yourself out a lot to some and a little to others. To those close to you, a lot is required. I try to do that with my friends, family, and any significant other that may come my way. Why? Because I will never expect the same back unless I give it first. That's my rule now.

You will probably never read this. I expect that. But it's not just for you. It's for me, for friends, family, God, and whoever wants to see my mind and heart. I love you, friend, as I said I always would; that will never change. No matter what you do or say, it won't change as I pledged to you. It just has a different face. I hope the best for you today in all you experience and do. I am proud of what you have accomplished, not necessarily who you are, but what you have achieved. God will always be there for you, everywhere, everyday, always! I will be here for a time, ready to listen, talk, whatever, should you choose; but not expecting.

This song continually comes into my mind when I think about you:

We were younger then, you and me, full of dreams weren't we?
I went my way, you went yours, where did you go dear?
Someone said you had left the life we lived together then
This is my way of reaching out 'cause I remember...

This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to speak to your heart
You are loved
More than you could ever know
This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to tell you something
You are loved
More than you can imagine
Imagine

If I told you would you believe, the narrow road, I did not leave?
If I told you would you understand that I've found truth?
Are you jaded? Are you hurting now? How I wish that I could tell
Where your heart's at... can you se? Mine has found - home

This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to speak to your heart
You are loved
More than you could ever know
This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to tell you something
You are loved
More than you can imagine
Imagine

Not sure if I've made it clear enough
It's not my love I sing about
Everybody asks, "Is God good?"
I believe, He is
In fact I know, He is

This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to speak to your heart
You are loved
More than you could ever know
This is what I want to say to you
If I had one chance to tell you something
You are loved
More than you can imagine
Imagine.

You Are Loved-Rebecca St. James

Today is important, because tomorrow is the leftovers from today. What will you have left over?
Love, always, In Christ!!! DPS

Ssssccccrrrrreeeeeeeeccccchhhh. . . Bam!

These are some pictures I took downtown one Saturday afternoon. I was standing on the street corner taking this picture and suddenly heard a screech. I looked up the hill to the left of the church and saw this car swirving around to it's left, almost like a quick u-turn. Behind it was a small moving truck trying to stop. Then, bam, the truck hit the back end of the car. I put my camera back up and took a quick pic. Took one more with the church in it before putting it away and calling 911. First time I've ever called 911. Everyone was fine, just annoyed because of the wreck. The lady in the car had a tire that blew out going down the hill and caused the wreck. She simply was trying to stop before crossing the intersection below. Can't blame her. I thought the truck driver did a great job at attempting to avoid her, too. Just glad everyone was ok. It made for an interesting afternoon.

What Ever Happened to a Quiet Episode of the Twighlight Zone?

The book was pulling him in further. It was so much information, but yet it kept drawing him in. By now he had finished the introduction and the half the first chapter. He was never a big reader, rarely reads to this day. This new book was a simple one, just a bunch of knowledge to help him make a better blog. It was all about HTML code, nothing more. But somehow it was so fascinating to the man. It was nearly 12:30a.m., and he had not slept much the night before, either. Still he pushed on.

"Pop.....pop!" Suddenly his attention was drawn to a new interest. "What was that sound?" he thought to himself. It actually sounded just like two gun shots, about 5 seconds apart. His mind wandered, it could have been a murder, a double murder, or just someone shooting at the noisy bird outside. Yes, he hoped they shot the bird. Not a crude hand signal, but a real bird that had plagued the complex for weeks. It was 12:35a.m. The bird was still singing it's same concoction of songs. He just sat there listening. There were no other sounds.

Now it was 12:39a.m., his mind still wandering away. He got up and moved to the door, opening it carefully, as to not wake up the woman sleeping across the hall. He hesitated and thought, "I wonder if the noises woke her up." Nothing. Not a sound, except the extremely early bird. He continued to the front window and looked out. Nothing. What was going on? He waited a minute or two; then heard the sound. A car was coming down the lot. Should he call the police? It had crossed his mind several times. "Ah," he thought. The car speeding past was a police car. The Vestavia Hills Police had once again been summoned here. This time he knew just what for. Someone else had been suspicious, or even a victim of some heinous crime. The car didn't stop. It was another two or three minutes till another cop sped by the window. Not in that desperate hurry, where someone's life is at stake. Just an earnest pace to find out what was going on here.

He watched out the window, saw one man walking his dog. The first policeman had stopped, asked the other man something, and apparently gotten an answer. The car turned around and drove down the hill; it stopped. It was pulled up next to another police cruiser that must have found something. What?! The tall man's heart began to race. He felt like he should duck or something. But from what? He just stood there and watched. Two more cruisers went by and kept circling every few minutes. Suspicions were up.

He suddenly looked down. There it was, the door unlocked from that afternoon. He had been so distracted by her talking, forgotten to lock the huge sliding glass door that led to his patio. No one had entered, to his knowledge, anyway. Besides, there was no where to hide. He was glad to realize the oversight, felt safer. Safer? There were apparent gun shots being passed around like they were tickets to an Alabama game-no one wanted them and definitely did not deserve that torment! He would stay until the end to see what happened. Nothing was visible, because the big green dumpster blocked the view. At least he knew there would be no bullets for him, flying past the nasty things. Some cars still circled. Like patient sharks they looked for their prey. 1:00a.m. He was so tired and could not stand there much longer. They were moving now, seemed to be leaving. All but one car pulled away, that one to follow, shortly. He saw nothing, heard nothing, except the cars leaving, and, yes, that annoying bird. It was his only entertainment, nothing coming from watching the action that was not to be.

He closed the window in silence. No ambulance, fire truck, FBI. Good thing! She still had not stirred. He headed back to bed, exhausted, confused. His thoughts then began to return to the book. He got settled into the large bed. Stretched out, he read for almost another hour. His eyes heavy, heavier, closed. Awake! The book was good but had to be put down. 2a.m. and so quiet. So much had been learned; so much had happened outside. But what? Who knows, but he began to wonder if this was a sign to move out. An apartment fire nearby, a car fire in front of his apartment, and now this, bullets whizzing. He did not care anymore, too tired to think. The lights were out, the covers pulled up, darkness, and..."hhhuuuuuuuu..whewwww......"

-----------------------------------------------------------

This story is a true story, taking place somewhere in the that dull, barely lit at that time of morning place called home. That place between reality, insomnia, and tomorrow. The question: why are bullets traveling through the air at 1a.m. instead of sitting idly in a gun, in an apartment complex with no known history of violence, just heated, twisted ashes? The answer: no one knows, so I can not tell you! I can only say that this is an incident that happened to me, yes me, this past Monday night/early Tuesday morning, somewhere in Mountain Lodge, somewhere in... The twighlight zone.

(Disclaimer: the woman in this story was my mom, visiting for the night. No, she did not hear anything!

No animals are known to have been harmed in the making of this drama.)