Another “hands-on” experience

by the Night Writer

Earlier in the week I posted a link to a talk I presented last month to the Inside Outfitters group about the need and benefits of living with an open hand (my part starts about five minutes into the podcast). In the talk I shared several of my experiences over the years where I was prompted to give something (usually money) to someone and the things that had happened for myself or my family as a result. The main point was to show how important it is to have an open hand (as opposed to a grasping or fisted hand) in order to both receive from God and to hand on the blessing to others. It was a fun message to prepare since it caused me to go back over so many wonderful memories. The trap, of course, is to spend too much time looking back and not enough looking ahead.

At about the same time I did that little presentation I also also received an unexpected gift from my new company, honoring my 15 years of experience. Actually, the experience was with my previous company, which had just been acquired by the new company. The new company, though, carried everyone’s seniority forward into its own benefit structure and I suddenly found myself with an American Express Gift Certificate for $75. “Hoo-lah!” I thought, “What toy can I spend this on?”

The thing was, I have just about all the toys I could possibly want — at least among those in the $75 price range — and I couldn’t think of anything even after giving it some thought over a weekend. Then, duh, I remembered what I’d preached and realized that I was overlooking a basic calculation. The Word says God “supplies seed to the sower, and bread for food,” (2 Corinthians 9:10); therefore I should look at everything that comes to me as either being bread (something I need to live) or seed (something to sow “to increase the fruits of my righteousness”) and this unexpected windfall clearly looked like seed to me. Then, instead of shopping, the fun part became looking around trying to find out who I was supposed to give the card to. Over the next week or so I saw a couple of possible opportunities, even good ones, but I didn’t have an inner release that any of these were what the card was for (we gave other things instead).

Then, quite unexpectedly, I re-connected with an old friend I hadn’t seen or heard from for nearly 25 years (and the way I got reconnected is pretty incredible and too complicated to go into here). We exchanged some emails and agreed to get together for lunch this week. In the course of our emails I learned that this woman was going through a tough time and trying to get a small business started. As I thought about it over the weekend, prior to meeting for lunch, I decided that the gift card was meant for her even though it wasn’t much compared to the size of the challenge she was facing. When we met I found the opportunity to give her the card and share a little about how it had come to me in the first place and how I’d been looking for the right person to give it to and that I was pretty sure it was for her. As I was saying these things, and handing her the card, she was smiling pleasantly and perhaps a little uncomfortably as most people are when receiving something. Since the value of the card wasn’t marked on it, however, I then told her that it was worth $75, thinking she might buy groceries or something with it. Her eyes blinked several times and she suddenly looked half-stunned.

It turns out she had been pricing some supplies she needed in order to get her business started, and the amount she figured she was going to need was…$75.

I have no way of knowing how she’s going to do in her new endeavor, or if it will be 25 days or 25 years before I ever see her again, but it was a tremendous rush to be used to encourage someone in such an unexpected way. Its always been fun to give, but when something comes together the way this did it’s even more satisfying — and feels even better than getting a new iPod. I also hope that, as welcome as the money might be to her, the sense of knowing that God is aware of you and is thinking of ways to let you know that is priceless.

St. Rukavina

by the Night Writer

“Jesus was a socialist, and you like him.”
— Minnesota state senator and DFL gubernatorial candidate Tom Rukavina

In that case, wouldn’t passing laws to raise taxes and forcibly re-distribute wealth be mixing Church and State? Isn’t that forcing (and enforcing) one’s religion on others? Did he go on to say that it was appropriate to rob Peter to pay Paul?

I suppose it does mean that when I stand before God and He asks me if I gave to the poor then all I have to do is say, “Well, I paid my taxes.” Or maybe I just have to say “I voted to raise other people’s taxes.”

Somehow or another I’ve always figured that giving to and serving others was a personal responsibility and not something I could farm out. Apparently it’s not self-government we need, just more government. Yet its been my experience that loving my neighbor brings me closer to both God and my neighbor, causes me to consider the state of my own heart and stimulates my appreciation for the blessings I’ve received. It also seems to me that if my neighbor loved me, he wouldn’t covet what I had or want to do anything to make himself a burden. My experience is that when people take it upon themselves to help others they end up sowing peace and reconciliation. When it’s left to a third party to do it on your behalf, however, the result is strife and enmity. Which would Jesus chose?

Along those lines, I recently shared a message with the Inside Outfitters group on the importance of “living with an open hand” and what I’ve seen in my life as a result. You can hear the message here (the first couple of minutes of the podcast features someone else, and then I get to talk).

I’m getting back in practice

by the Night Writer

My grandson is scheduled to arrive in July and will join his parents in residence at the Night Chateu, no doubt soaking up most of the attention in the household that is currently being devoted to Sly, the Family Rat. Or perhaps receiving even more attention than Sly. After all, I haven’t yet waltzed through the house with Sly, singing, the way I did with my children when they were little…or the way I’ll do with the beh-beh.

And of course, I will sing the same song I sang to his mother and auntie.

Who was that masked girl?

by the Night Writer

We made our annual expedition to the American Arts Council Craft Show in St. Paul. Saw a LOT of beautiful things, but they cost more than we cared to pay. This is also true of the item in the photos below, but then sometimes you’ve just got to do it when you see those big, sad blue eyes … and the pointy dagger.

Tiger Lilly Mask 1

TIger Lilly Mask 2

Sloganize Me!

by Tiger Lilly

So my friend alerted me to this new website. It’s called Sloganizer: You type in whatever you want, and it will give you a slogan for it. Naturally, I typed in my name, and here are my (extremely accurate) results:

Oh my gods, it’s a Tiger Lilly.

Kick @$$ with Tiger Lilly.

Tiger Lilly: Your personal entertainer.

Tiger Lilly. To hell with the rest.

The best Tiger Lilly in the world.

Then I did it with ninja cows and doomsteak:

Hmmmmmm… ninja cows. (I think it should be Mmmmmmm… ninja cows. Meh, close enough.)

Where’s your ninja cows? (That’s bad grammar!!!)

Ninja cows – empowering people. (That may or may not be a good thing…)

Doomsteak is the sound of the future.

I wish I was a doomsteak.

And then, of course, Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous:

Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous evolution.

Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous on the outside, tasty on the inside.

Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous. Since 1845. (I-I had no idea!)

Try it yourself!

“Ciao for now is rolling, the others are stoned.”

Happier Opening Day

by the Night Writer

It was Opening Day for the new Twins ballpark today, and it sounds as if it was a great experience for everyone. I couldn’t be at the game, but I work a few blocks from the new stadium and got to watch the fly-over by the F-16s. I can recall a few fly-overs in the Dome days, but I think that was just because the Dome occasionally was on the flight path to the airport. We could hear the rumbles, though. Going home tonight I caught the light-rail and even though it was only about the 8th inning the train was packed with fans christening the new stadium by keeping up the Minnesota tradition of leaving early. The train smelled like a brewery, but it was nice to see all the sun-burned necks and faces (this outdoor baseball is going to take some getting used to, but I predict it will catch on.)

It was great to see that the Twins started the day off by unveiling the Kirby Puckett statue outside Gate 34 (the Twins numbered their gates after great Twins of the past). While I don’t think the statue looks much like Puck, he was the Face of the franchise. I hope — and maybe it has already happened — that the Twins do something appropriate for the man who was the Voice of the franchise: Herb Carneal.

Today I was remembering the Opening Days from 2005, 2006 and 2007. Out of some depressing coincidence, these openers came hard on the heels of the deaths of Puck (’06), Herb (’07) and long-time stadium announcer Bob Casey (’05). It also got me thinking about Ronnie Newman, the team organist who played “Take Me Out the Ballgame” for 1,775 straight home games and who died at the end of the ’03 season. Casey (I never heard him called “Bob”) and Ronnie had both been at Met Center and the Dome and I got to know them during my days as a Dome scoreboard operator.

Often when I was working I’d be on the same headset link with Casey. In between his announcements he usually kept up a profane, vitriolic and often apoplectic rant about anything and everthing that was annoying him that day. I thought for sure one day he’d slip and leave his microphone on during one of these but he never did. Nor did he ever have an aneurysm in mid-call, which I thought was sure to be his fate. Instead a double whammy of liver cancer and pneumonia (the latter he contracted in his lasts visit to Spring Training) did him in. One of his favorite foils was Ronnie, the ever-optimistic organist. They were friends, but Casey was always cracking jokes at Ronnie’s expense. Somehow the abuse just rolled off his back, though, and nothing ever seemed to change his smile or his demeanor. Ronnie was an unusual looking guy, short and about as wide as he was tall, and with a gravelly voice. He was as nice a guy as you’d ever want to meet, though I am ashamed to admit that I myself had a little fun at his expense one time. One night he came into the press box before the game wearing a bright blue and yellow plaid sportcoat that outshone the little yellow bulbs on the scoreboard.

“Hey, Ronnie,” I said, “nice coat.”

“Thanks!” he said, his perpetual smile getting even larger.

“Who’s couch died?”

“Aww…” and then that gravelly laugh.

Anyway, I’ve got tickets for an upcoming game, and will try to take in an afternoon game or two as the season goes on. I’m excited to see the new place and get a look at the new players in person, but there’ll always be something of the old place and the old guys sitting with me.

Btw, here are the pieces I wrote for Kirby and Herb when they passed.