It all starts the day after Halloween . . . I break out the Christmas music and start talking about putting up the tree. This year, the music started on November 3 when I returned to school and created a Christmas playlist for Media Player. People coming to my office made comments that week about how early it was to be listening to Christmas music, but as time went on, more and more of them started getting out their CDs.

Two weeks ago tonight (that would be the 7th,) we went to Piedmont for Chinese buffet. While we were eating, we found out that the florist from our wedding was having his annual Christmas open house that night, so we stopped in for a couple of hours. After contemplating different purchases, including all new decorations for our existing tree (about $700) or two candles ($40), we found three rustic trees in the corner of the shop, decorated in a woodsy, cabin-type theme. It reminded us of the time we spend in the Smokies and made us look forward to our upcoming trip over Christmas vacation.

When we asked Lester how much the three trees would cost, with decorations, he said he'd just have to take everything off and add it up. We decided to let him do it and go ahead and buy it. After several minutes of pulling decorations, making lists, adding up all the birds, stockings, snowmen, berries, ribbon and trees, and throwing in a few more snowy berry branches, the total price was $400.62. We loaded the decorations and made arrangements to pick up the trees at Lester's house the next morning.

Impulse buys? I don't really think we know how to make any large purchases without making impulse decisions. We often wait and watch before buying things - usually for many months - and then suddenly something jumps out at us as the perfect option and we buy it. I'd been planning to re-do the entire Christmas tree this year anyway, and I'd been watching for colors and themes at Hobby Lobby and Kimmswick. Then, when we found the right one, we knew it.

So . . . the long awaited pictures of our three Christmas trees:

In the class I took this summer, Dr. Buchanan said, "if you're getting a paycheck from a school district, it's a great place to work for." The whole idea behind that thought is that no matter who you work for, and no matter how bad it may seem, the fact that they employ you and give you a paycheck means that they deserve enough respect that you're not bad-mouthing them all the time. I thought about that a lot while we were on vacation the second time this summer, and a few times since then.

What if everyone had the attitude that, because they're being paid by someone, their employer is, at the time, the best to work for? How would service in restaurants and stores change? Now I've been very impressed with some of the employees in some not-so-high-paying jobs lately, but I've also encountered those who complain about everything they have to do and act as though it's a bother just having to talk to me. The difference? Pride in the job they are doing and support for whoever is writing the check. That's what separates those who will bend over backward to keep a customer happy, no matter what the circumstance, and those who would rather see you turn around and walk out than to help you.

But how does a new generation of employees learn this piece of work ethic? Maybe it's time we start modeling that for them in the classroom and the hallways, and challenging them to have a great attitude beginning with the first job they get, even if it's cleaning the grease trap at McDonald's every Friday night.

Hmm - that reminds me of something else I need to post about - our Good Friday experience at Joe's Crab Shack. Coming soon . . . .

Can it be . . . I'm actually sitting here in the recliner, watching American Idol and blogging? The two things I've been avoiding like the plague lately. Actually, I've avoided American Idol for its entire run, but without 24 this season (thanks a lot, writers strike,) I've added Idol to the DVR schedule - right there with Family Feud, Andy Griffith, Jack's Big Music Show, and the Backyardigans . . . and I'm actually enjoying it. I've may have made a conscious effort to not get wrapped up in the Idol hype, but I haven't been purposefully avoiding blogging. It just happened. And now I have junior high students, teachers, and friends asking me on a regular basis when I'm going to blog again.

Over the past three months, I've had a few ideas for how to continue blogging. With more demands at work than I was used to in my last job, I've found that there's not much time in my day to sit down, clear my head, and blog. The first idea I had was series blogging - focusing a few posts on a central topic. Possible topics included "Dear Presidential Candidate . . . " where I'd write open letters to all the remaining candidates to tell them why I would or would not vote for them. Another thought I entertained was "Why I'm _____" where I'd explain why I do or believe certain things - Why I'm a Republican; Why I'm a Christian; Why I'm not blogging lately . . . ." The other idea was just continuing just as in the past with a potpourri of life's experiences as they happen and as I take the time to share them. So before this site goes the way of my Xanga site, my first website, and the fifteen email addresses I've had over the past ten years, I'm back after three months of silence, and I'm ready to share some huge things that have been happening in my life.

Two weeks ago yesterday, my wife and I packed our bags and went to bed prepared to head to Farmington the next morning for her to be induced and have our second baby around two o'clock. Everything for baby two was planned - the total opposite of what had happened a little over seventeen months earlier when our daughter surprised us by showing up a month early. This time, we knew the sex of the baby, the day he'd be born, and even the approximate time.

About two hours before we should have started getting ready on Tuesday morning, Jessica woke up with pain that she thought resulted from contractions. We decided to get ready early, and if the pain stopped, we'd just wait around at home until it was time to make our way to the hospital. If the pain continued, we thought it would be better to get an early start in case she was already in labor. By five, we were on the road.

The events of the first three hours in the hospital now seem like a blur. From OB to the emergency room, to the parking lot to get the insurance card, back to the ER, and then back to OB, I felt like the nurses were just trying to keep me busy so I'd stay out of the way as they prepped Jessica for the birth. I'd much rather have revisited the first hour I spent at the hospital when Ella was born, while I sat, sleeping in the emergency room waiting area, thinking we were only there for a quick examination.

With phone calls made and family members headed our way, I was finally able to make it back to the delivery room to find out that we were just minutes away from the epidural . . . perhaps the best part of the whole day . . . and that the doctor had estimated delivery time at 10:15. Our parents and Ella arrived sometime between eight and nine. They were able to take turns visiting with Jessica in the delivery room before the action started picking up. Unfortunately, about the time the epidural started kicking it, it slowed contractions to the point that the anesthesiologist had to add another drug to start them up again. That pushed the estimated delivery time up a little, but we were still going to have a baby by noon.

Recovering from a staph infection or spider bite (what it really was will be disputed for years) and just a day after being diagnosed with a viral infection, I wasn't exactly feeling the adrenaline rush that I should have been throughout the morning. As we neared delivery, the nurses started assembling the necessary tools, and the doctor dressed in his gown and catcher's mit, it seemed as though the heat kept rising and the room started spinning. With six people crowded in half the room and the curtain pulled just behind me, I felt the claustrophobia taking over. Cold sweat beads running down my face, I found myself having to sit down a couple of times. I was able to muster the necessary strength and overcome the queasy feeling just in time to see my son come into the world - and I was down again.

At 11:49, we welcomed the fourth member of our family, Joseph William Marc, into the world. As special as the birth of a first child is, the second child is just as special and the overwhelming pride and joy is just as real. After snapping a few quick pictures, I slid out of the room to leave the professionals to do what they do best (this time, the OB department wasn't as busy, so I didn't have to be the assistant), show the grandparents pictures of their first grandson, and get a breath of cool air. Once I was able to catch my breath, I returned to the delivery room to take more pictures, then brought Ella back to meet her new brother.

For the past two weeks, we've been able to spend a lot of time together, refreshing our relationships and building new bonds with Will. Ella has been a great big sister - helping with feeding and other baby care, and giving him a sweet goodnight kiss each night at bedtime. Being an only child for seventeen months, we were afraid she would be jealous of the new baby taking our attention, but we're trying to make her feel as much a part of what's going on as he is, and she's definitely handled it much better than we had expected.

Jessica and I have fallen in love with our son, and we're excited about where his life will lead. God has a special plan for all of our kids. On the way home from school this afternoon, I was listening to the new MercyMe CD. The first track is a song about living an extraordinary life - one that is God's will and not the ordinary life that we often grow used to. I pray that this will be one song that defines Will's life, and I pray that Philippians 3:12-14 is something that he clings to as I have.

"Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free." - Ronald Reagan

For some time now, I've waited and watched for a presidential candidate that I could support - one who not only scored high on my issues surveys but also who stood a chance of winning both in the primary and next November. You may remember that Duncan Hunter and Tom Tancredo fit the first criterion, but were long-shots at best. When I would talk to anyone about either of those candidates, the reply would generally be, "who's that?" For a while, I thought that if Fred Thompson would step up and run, he'd be the answer I'd been looking for, but I've been very disappointed in just about everything he's done. Of course, there's always been Rudy McRomney - the three stooges of the Republican party. I can't really tell the difference between Rudy and Hillary; McCain seems too weak on national security; Romney says his faith doesn't define him, and I remember all too well what happened the last time we had a president whose faith didn't matter.

After several grueling months of campaigning and debating, it almost seemed like Ron Paul was the best candidate . . . and that was REALLY starting to worry me. Enter Mike Huckabee in the blind spots of all the frontrunners, leaving the second- and third-tier candidates behind. Finally, someone who shares my beliefs on fiscal and social issues, national security, and even religion. A Southern Baptist preacher running for president, who recently beat all the Democrats in a head-to-head poll. I never dreamed Huckabee would be a formidable candidate, but it seems like he's in this race to win, and he has as good a chance as any of them.

A few weeks ago, I started worrying that this whole Huckabee craze would wear off by the time the primaries rolled around, or that he might actually win the nomination only to be defeated in the general election by Hillary or Obama. I kept focusing on the negative and thinking about how horrible it would be if that happened. But then I started thinking. Jeremiah 29:11 says, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" God already knows who will win the 2008 election - He knows the foreign policy, healthcare plan, and moral values of the next president. He also has the power to make anything happen - He can even put a Southern Baptist preacher in the Oval Office if He wants to. The only thing we can do is pray for His will, and then for the man (or woman) who ultimately gets the job.

Would Jesus vote for Hillary? Obama? Giulianni? McCain? Huckabee? I don't know. I do know that, no matter what happens, God will still be in control on November 5, 2008, and He'll still be in control on January 20, 2009. My favorite verse is Habakkuk 1:5: "Look at the nations and watch, and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." That's what I'll be counting on in the weeks and months ahead.


"Recently, out on the campaign trail, a voter asked if my personal faith informed my decisions. My answer was simple, just as it always has been: my faith is my life - it defines me. My faith doesn't influence my decisions, it drives them." - Mike Huckabee

I've come to a point in my life where I've started realizing that the road of life is one-way. There are no u-turns and no slowing down. It feels like I'm in the cab of Jack Monk's eighteen-wheeler, barreling down a winding mountain road somewhere in California, with the brake lines cut. The farther I go, the faster the scenery seems to pass by. Yes, the DVR picked up all the "Monk" episodes that I haven't already seen, and I've been enjoying catching up on the ones I couldn't watch when we didn't get USA.

For some reason, the thought of turning 30 frightens me. In just 389 days, I'll enter the fourth decade of my life. See - I couldn't even type that sentence without getting a knot inside and my heart pounding a little harder. I've never dreaded something quite so much, but I really can't tell you why. I'm excited about the journey of life; I'm secure in my faith and the dreams I have for my life. I love my wife and daughter and am looking forward to the arrival of my first son in a couple of months. There's just something about not being in my 20's that scares me!

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, we went to my wife's grandparents' house for a family reunion. Her cousins from Nashville had spent a few nights there, and they brought their 4-wheelers to pass the time. I'm not really used to riding 4-wheelers that were made for sport riding - I've mainly just enjoyed the utility versions that get the work done. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy going 60-70 mph around the makeshift track behind the house - or running straight lines from the yard to the woods and back as quickly as I could. It was definitely a lot of fun - and I wanted to spend the night so I could do it again the next morning. But I couldn't talk Jessica into staying, so around 10:00 that night, we headed north.

Sometime in the middle of the night - not long after we went to bed - my back started hurting. I've been told countless times that I don't know what "hurting" means until I've carried a baby for nine months and had unmentionable things done to my body in order to get that baby out . . . but that night, I knew that an aching back was enough pain for me. I tossed and turned all night and took a couple of Jessica's prescription pain pills from when Ella was born along with six or eight Tylenol. And I was still in pain. The only thing I could do to keep my back from hurting was to lie on a heating pad on the floor. Every time the thermostat on the pad would kick it off, I'd wake up in pain and have to wait for it to heat up so it would stop hurting long enough for me to go back to sleep. The next morning, I crawled upstairs and into the recliner, where I sat with the heating pad for the rest of the day. By bedtime, I was finally feeling better.

I'm 28 years old. I shouldn't have to give up an entire day of my life to recover from riding a 4-wheeler. What is going on? Is this what getting older feels like? I've had a hard time admitting that age was a contributing factor to my back problem, and I really wanted to blame it on the mattress.

I don't really have anything inspirational to say about the subject . . . I still hate the thought of getting older, and I haven't figured out how to stop it from happening. I'm well on my way to having a Doctorate by the time I'm 38, and I'm headed up the "corporate" ladder of public education. I have the family, house, and cars. I have a relationship with Jesus and a purpose for living. I'm happy with life. But I'd like to just stop the hands of time for just a while. Or maybe I should just start thinking of my age as 21, plus (fill in the blank).

One of the dangers in pouring yourself into any project is the potential for pride to take hold and later destroy - or at least inhibit - the joy that we should feel with the final product. Maybe it's not a problem for everyone, but I have seen Satan use personal pride in achievement to destroy relationships and steal joy from many people, and I've seen him use the pride in my own life to keep me from accepting the help of perfectly capable individuals in order for God to work through their gifts and free me up to use mine to the best of my ability. This week, I think he tried using the same pride to discourage me and make me feel animosity toward others in a situation that I had no reason to feel that way. I'm glad God showed me a better perspective so Satan didn't get the victory!