We are now about a month removed from Cee’s B-day festivities. Her uncles decided a great gift for their 2 year old niece would be a fish tank. I guess they wanted to teach her about death and loss at an early age. We started with six small goldfish. It’s never a good commentary on an animal’s longevity when they are sold for less than $.25. Basically any transaction that requires you to wait for change on your quarter is not a long-term purchase.

Alright so we have our fish, and sure enough within 48 hours our six-pack is thinning fast. We were down to 3 fish quickly. Actually we had 2 normal fish and one suspiciously large fish. Cee named one Messy since he was yellow with large brown specs on his back (note the masculine pronoun is only used because of the patriarchal nature of our society and not because I check any of our gold fish, so get in the kitchen and deal with it…also note that I understand I will likely sleep on the couch for that last comment…alas). Messy had made it to the final three but it was clear he would not make it any further. We were down to 2.

Perhaps, the only thing sadder than Cee looking for Messy among the 2 remaining fish was when she would pull Tiff or I to the empty tank after all the fish had died to show us “the fishys”. With only two remaining once one “died” (there was never a body found and big fish was getting still larger) the other was floating within a day. Like a excerpt from “Where the Red Fern Grows” they needed each other (again note it would have been the version where one dog eats the other which I as remember it would be a departure from the original text). It was depression, or we didn’t feed them enough, or we fed them too much, or looked at them wrong, seriously they’re fish.

So determined to make the fish tank a success we went to Pet Smart over the weekend and bought some more fish. There are 2 identical orange ones we’ve named Fred and George, and a white and orange on that looks cool but doesn’t yet have a name. Tiff will name him if Cee doesn’t get to it first. On a scary note, while at the Pet Smart Cee was tickled to death over the guinea pigs. Maybe one day we’ll move up mammals, but not this day.

Just a quick experience to share. This past weekend we went to dinner with family. There is a new pizza place in Macon, and let’s just say if you’re interested in trying it you will want to go ASAP, cause it won’t be around for long.

It all started when we ordered breadsticks, and even though the place has only been open about a week they’ve taken the breadsticks off the menu. Ok, that happens, so we ordered the “homemade” mozzarella sticks. When they came out a few minutes later I took a bite and found the center not only cold but still frozen! Things are not looking good, but we’re there so we’ll stick it out. The waiter was very nice about it. Then he came back with good news and bad news (which by the way is always bad news). He told us the pizza was done but it had stuck to the pan and when they tried to get it off it tore so they were remaking it. They were nice enough to bring us out what was left of our sad pizza.

At the end of the night the food was pretty good, and it was an interesting evening that we won’t forget anytime soon. I guess in that situation you can be a jerk and make a deal about it or just laugh it off and know that God is everywhere.

I talk a lot about my wife here and on the book of faces. Usually its good, sometime I get in trouble, but after almost 6 years of marriage it has been nothing if not interesting. I think any honest couple will tell you that there is nothing easy about marriage and ours is no exception. In our short time together we’ve bought a car and a house, both been unemployed at one point, gone through a complete career change, begun a masters degrees, had our first child, and much more. Honestly if we had known all this was going to happen ahead of time there may have been some 2^nd thoughts. However, all of these things, both the wonderful and unpleasant, have brought us to a better place than either of us could have gotten to on our own. And I believe the key is that it brought “us” to this place. Even on the worst of days I can’t even imagine anything but us.

This is my wife: Tiffany is a 1^st grade teacher, though she has not always been so. Just a few years ago she was working a job that didn’t satisfy her in a college financial office. Now while too many people would just accept their fate Tiff decided to do something about it. Over the past 2 years she has taught in a classroom while going through a very difficult certification program with summer and night classes. Of course, as is her way she has overcome those obstacles. Through red tape, course scheduling issues, and an entire change in the structure of the program she is a part of she is now set to finish her masters at the end of this year. She faithfully stayed with me through an extremely trying experience as church staff in the midst of a church split, and she continues to amaze me with her devotion. She is strong, resourceful, and far more compassionate than I could hope to be. She has a heart that cares for all her students no matter how annoying they seem to me. She is a talented writer and an extremely handy youth minister. She is passionate, strong willed, kind, and beautiful (very beautiful!). Anyone who know her know that she never fails to speak her mind or let her opinion be known. She neither has to be, or wants to be the center of attention, but she has always been there for me, usually far more confident in my abilities than I am.

She is not perfect, and I don’t try to overlook her imperfections. The same passion that serves her so well also tends to make her react, at least initially, more out of emotion than logic and she is very possibly the least patient person alive when it comes to wanting something she has set her heart on. But these are not imperfections that need to be fixed, rather they are part of the mixture that makes her who she needs to be, and I love her more today than I did when we began this journey six years ago.

I am convinced there is no one else in this world that would put up with my eccentricities, and all in all ridiculousness. And if all of the already mentioned reasons weren’t enough to draw me to Tiff, there is a 32 inch reminder of our love running around with an infectious smile and her mom’s good looks. And that is Tiff and I’s greatest accomplishment. At this point not only can I not imagine a world without “us,” I can’t remember what it was to not be a part of “us”. Its as if that was a part of someone else’s story. For that matter its getting harder to recall a day without having Cee constantly going with another Veggie at the ready and a heart wrenching “Hello Daddy”. It is easily the most humbling and beautiful thing I hear every day. And on top of that I now have a non-embarrassing reason to walk through the toy aisles in Wal-Mart. Score me! But I digress.

To Tiff and Cee, I love you. God is Everywhere

Its Father’s Day 2009. It’s the 29^th edition I’ve had the privilege of being a part of (ok 30^th if you wanna count in the womb, but I didn’t want to get political). Last year my participation underwent a dramatic change. This is my 2^nd year being the focus of this day rather than part of the cheering masses. The funny thing is that it doesn’t feel like a day where I am being brought to the center but one where I find myself shuffling to the back of the stage trying to find the part in the curtain. I don’t feel like someone who has done anything worth being celebrated. Heck, most of the time I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Its only by the grace of God and that little picture of a bathing suit tie that I can put a swimmy diaper on the right way. I guess if we’re honest most of us feel that way. In truth I think what makes a dad great is living in the constant fear that you could really screw up this poor kid if you’re not careful. That constant awareness of the delicate nature of that which has been entrusted to us.

For me its that awareness that make it impossible for me to understand an abusive father. Sure I get tired and I get frustrated but not once in the last two years has it ever crossed my mind to have anything but infinite compassion for my daughter. Perhaps that’s a God thing, perhaps it has as much to do with my example. My father is a great man and a great dad. When I think of that father’s day stage its men like him that I believe we are celebrating. He was soft spoken, but strong enough that there was never a question of who was in charge. There was a healthy fear of his disciple but neither my sister nor I ever felt intimidated or scared, but rather we knew we were infinitely loved no matter what.

My dad is a wiser man than I think I will ever be. He know how to work with, not manipulate, people and he has a patients that is at the same time impressive and endlessly frustrating. There have many time when I’ve wanted to act or rant or any number of other actions but he being him was patient and it was for God’s glory. He is the definition of meek. Which is great, he’ll inherit the earth and then, as long as I stay in the will, I’ll inherit it from him. Sweet!

To the fathers…happy you day. I guess that includes me…Happy Father’s Day me. Why thank you very much self. Same to you. You’re too kind me and so good looking. You’re not too bad yourself self.

See what I mean. Is the thought process of a responsible father figure? At least I’m doing better than Darth Vader. My wife is still alive and my children have all their extremities.

Last week was a big moment in our family. It was a proud moment for any father. We took C to her 1^st professional sporting event. We went the Braves’ game. She seemed to know that it was a special day cause even as we walked through the parking lot she was bouncing in the stroller. As we got into the Ted (Turner Field) there are large cartoon network chacters just inside the gate and I think that convinced C that this was going to be a great place to be. Even though I prefer football, I must confess there is something very special about a baseball field that just invites you in and even a 2 year old can understand that. C was fascinated with everything. From the folding seats to the big screen to the cheering people she enjoyed to whole thing.

It was fun to review with her the finer points of the game. Like the use of the hit and run and a full count breaking ball. Of course her conceptual grasp at this point is “out”. She’s all over “out”, so I guess that’s a start. She had a hot dog, and did her 1^st tomahawk chop. I’m not sure I really sold her on cotton candy as a snack but she enjoyed tearing it off and feeding it to me, and that means more for me.

Even though the Braves lost it was a great evening. We weren’t really watching the game. The real show was in the seat next to us. Every cheer got C excited and she really enjoyed dancing to the mid inning music. And toward the later innings she curled up in my arms and we watch the Braves attempt a comeback as we snuggled in the upper deck. Who needs World Series tickets when you can go to a meaningless mid May game with a two year old.

Last time on God is Everywhere…

Jon: “This is a bad idea isn’t it?”
Tiff: “Yep. We doing it? I wanna go to bed.”
Jon: “Yeah…(time elapses)…Oh no! Its bad!”
Tiff: “I’m going to bed.”

And so there I was, I looked like an esoteric characiture of myself. Perhaps if I had invested in bureau and a long cigarette and started talking with some strange accent I could have pulled it off, but I did the first thing anyone in my situation would have done. I put on a sock hat and tucked as much of my hair out of sight as possible. Now with Tiff sleeping it was up to me to formulate a plan that would result in the restoration of at least a presentable appearance. So as the clock inched towards midnight I prepared to travel to the only place of refuge for those of my ilk, Wal-Mart. As I went to my car I wondered how often they see folks, hair hidden, purchasing hair dye at one in the morning? Perhaps that is where the original idea for the 24 hour service came from, maybe. It seems as likely as anything else.

Luckily for me I would not have to make my Wal-Mart run-of-shame alone. I called my good friends the Rainers, knowing they may be the only people I know who would not kill me for calling so late (Will for one definitely hold a grudge against those who would dare call at such an hour), and they did not disappoint. Of course upon arrival I had to endure the obligatory initial mockery (you would have done it too), but all in all they spared my feeling for the most part, and they thankfully obtained from taking any pictures though that was likely do more to the threats of death than any good nature on Rainer’s part. Beka rode out to Wally World with me and we discussed our plan. It was simple, just get something basic to try and get me back to work the next day.

We came to consensus on a brand and color and we made our purchase. Once we got back to their house Bekah broke out the directions (I know those are usually the first to go but desperate times call for desperate measures) and I prepped the bathroom for the coming color war. Other than the fact the hair dye specifically instructed that it not be used on washed, wet or recently dyed or highlighted hair, and my hair qualified as all three of those we felt no trepidation what so ever. Except, of course, for that nagging feeling that multiple dyings could make my hair fall out all together, but other than that we were confident this would work. Except the confident part…and the part where we thought it would work. So we did the deed, and waited the allotted time.

After washing and drying my hair, it was by the most basic definition a success. My hair was a shade of brown and it was passable enough for me to be seen in public for now. We apparently didn’t select a dark enough shade of brown so I was sporting brown hair with dark brown roots which in and of itself wouldn’t have been so bad but the contrast was exacerbated when I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. There’s nothing quite as attractive as that line of demarcation running just an inch past my hairline.

Then, having done the best we could, we called it a night and I went in to work the next day committed to keeping a low profile and not talking about my “situation”. Of course by lunch time 3 people had asked if I had done something to my hair with that expression usually reserved for seeing a dying animal on the side of the road. And it took my students at LDBC less than 2 minutes to notice and begin a stream of questions about my new look. So much for a low profile. I was outed. I had no choice but to embrace my own stupidity and wear it like a badge of honor. It was my stupidity and I had earned it.

In the end our patch job got me through. I waited about 2 weeks to give my hair time before dying it again with a darker shade of brown. It took 2 weeks, $30+ worth of dye, a little ridicule and a lot of embarrassment to get me back to where I essentially started out from, but I did learn something. I learned that the best of friends will laugh at you when you look like a Bugs Bunny character, but they’ll do it standing with you at Wal-Mart well after midnight. Your wife may go to bed and wash her hands of the whole thing but she’ll also assure you that it isn’t that bad (whether she believes it or not) and ultimately she’ll help you fix it in the end. And above all I learned that today’s world-crushing, life-ending, never-leaving-the-house-again moments will be tomorrow’s fodder for another self-indulgent blog post. So, don’t forget to laugh at the dumb things you do and know that greater things are always at work and you just might find that God is indeed everywhere.

In the very best of situations hair coloring and modification is a dangerous enterprise. The risk/reward factor is skewed heavily towards risk. Three weeks ago I swore that this story would never make it to the world wide web, but what can I say, I guess I can’t keep a secret. I should really see someone about self abusive behavior. Alas, here we go.

Back in the day (and yes it was a Wednesday), when I was at Mercer, I always had highlights in my hair. After cutting my hair I decided that the highlights were quickly going to cross into the realm of “more trouble than they’re worth”. Now that I once again need to make regular stops on the hair-tie ales I decided perhaps it was time to resume my practice of hair alteration.

This is pretty much where the good ideas in this story end. Instead of following my wife’s advice and having the highlights done professionally (as I always did in the past), I decided to save a few bucks (a decision I base solely on Rainer’s bad influence) and do it myself. Now Tiff and I have done highlights on my hair in the past to varying degrees of success, but this was a first attempt with hair as long as mine is now. We purchased a good brand, though not one we had used before, because we wanted to use the cap to pull my hair through.  Now if the story ended here it would already be a worthy comedy. The sight my Charlie Brown head squeezed into that skull cap was ridicules enough by itself, but no, let us press on.

Now, there comes a point in every marriage where communication can be done without the burden of words, and that night after pulling my hair through the cap the two of us looked at one another and we both knew this was a bad idea, perhaps the worst of ideas. The cap we bought had about three times the number of holes as the previous brands we had use thus it allow almost all the top half of my head to be exposed to the lightening chemicals. But when has good judgment ever show me down before. So we did the deed and 30-45 minutes later I went in to rise out my hair.

Now, I am not one to worry extensively about my appearance but the iridescent golden orange that now topped my head mixed with my naturally dark hair and beard made it clear that I would not be going to work or anywhere else the next day unless my current situation was resolved. To her credit Tiff was by my side through the whole thing. Well, that’s not entirely true, though it would have been true if I had lain down in the bed. As soon as my new look was unveiled she announced that she thought it was a bad idea from the start and she was going to bed. I don’t blame her one bit. This was a disaster and there are just some projects that you don’t want your name on. She was in a no-win situation and unlike myself she had the good sense to know when to get out of dodge. But now what was I to do? It was nearly midnight on a Sunday and the real world was lurking just eight hours away.

To be continued…

Next time on God is Everywhere…

“No, really no pictures.”

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Today was suppose to be the second round of the breakfast bracket but since there are still a lot of votes coming in we’ll put round 2 off another day. You can vote by posting a comment or email godiseverywhere@joncoder.com.

In the meantime, its spring in Macon, GA and for many people that means it’s time to bring out all things pink for the Cherry Blossom Festival. Personally I have no problem most things pink.  I have even been known to rock the pink shirt from time to time, in a manly way of course (I have yet to delve into the arena of pink pants and I think we’d all agree that’s a good thing).  However I am quite disturbed by the lengths the pink is taken by some in our fair city.  Honestly if you’re not at least bothered by this picture of a ferocious pink poodle then you should see someone. How does that even come up as a good idea? Are two folks sitting around one evening, “I really excited about the Cherry Blossom Festival!” “Me too, I know let dye the dog pink!!!” Actually, a good indication that things have gotten out of hand is anytime dog dyeing is brought up. I could be wrong but I can’t think of anything that warrants the coloring of a canine.  Let’s think, child birth, marriage, graduation, the blooming of an indigenous plant?  No, I’ve got nothing. And let’s face it this dog looks none too happy.

Maybe it’s not about the pink. Perhaps it’s just an excuse for a party, some fair food and questionably assembled ride run by even more questionable personnel. Seriously, nothing says I’m qualified to handle heavy machinery quite like that unwashed staff t-shirt, and the beat up RV parked behind the ride. Where do I buy my tickets?

All in all though, we had a good time. There’s something about a turkey leg and $5 coke mixed with flashing lights and a funnel cake that even today can capture one’s imagination. Sitting with my daughter I think we were equally transfixed by the whole experience. For her it was all new and larger than life and for me not only could I remember those feelings but to see her experience it for the first time was special. We all need a time where we can suspend our cynicism and just enjoy those experiences that can unify all us in a sense of wonder. Of course, even at her young age I think intuitively C knew that there was something seriously wrong with that pink pooch.