I hearby resolve to make skid marks in my undies

I, Joe Southern, being of absent mind and round body, do hereby resolve the following for the coming year:
To not eat live toads first thing in the morning. They make a better afternoon snack.
To stop breaking wind in the fragrance aisles at major department stores.
To experience more unbridled passion, romance, energy and excitement during intimate encounters with my wife.
To experience less unbridled passion, romance, energy and excitement during intimate encounters with football on TV.
To get my Christmas cards written before Christmas.
To clean the skid marks off my undies.
To live a life so adventurous and exciting that I can’t help but leave skid marks in my undies.
To write the Great American Novel – or at least the mediocre-small-state-in-the-upper-Midwest pamphlet.
To stop repeating myself.
To experience more unbridled passion, romance, energy and excitement during intimate encounters with my wife. (What? I like that one a lot!)
To stop picking on people of lesser intelligence.
To see if I can actually find someone of lesser intelligence.
To eat mor chikin.
To think outside the bun.
To start to think after I stop to think and forget to start again (I think).
To find a healthy way to live off of cheeseburgers, pizza and my wife’s meatloaf.
To stop procrastinating by the end of the year.
To stop losing arguments with myself.
To drink less coffee.
Who am I kidding? Of course I’m not going to drink less coffee. What moron came up with that one?
To stop referring to myself as a moron.
Idiot!
To finally get “Dancing Queen” out of my head.
And finally, to stop starting sentences with conjunctions.
But first, to stop making resolutions I won’t keep.
On that note, I would like to get serious for a moment. Every New Year’s Eve we traditionally look at the coming year as a blank slate; a new beginning. In many ways it is. That is true of every single day. The future is what we make of it, God willing.
The trouble is that we keep hauling the garbage of the past right along with us. We’re comfortable with the skeletons in our closets as long as we can keep hearing their bones rattle and know they’re safely tucked away.
I learned last year that evicting the skeletons from my closet is an amazing thing. While I’m not yet ready to make my skeletons common knowledge, I can say that their removal has made my life much better. With the big things out of the way, it makes it much easier to deal with the little stuff, like losing weight, getting organized and reading so many books.
My challenge to you is to look deep down and resolve to make changes in yourself that will really impact your life and the life of those closest to you. Deal with the things that rattle in your secret place. Trust me; you’re not the only one who can hear them. You’re just the only one who can ignore them. And you’re the only one who can deal with them.
For some that may be alcohol, smoking, drugs or other such things. For others it might be pornography, an affair, gambling, over-eating or some other compulsive behavior.
Ask yourself how your skeleton is making your life better? Ask yourself if you would want a giant spotlight to shine in your closet for all the world to see. Ask yourself how your skeletons are benefiting your spouse and children. Ask yourself how you would feel if a family member or someone else very close to you were harboring the same set of bones in their secret place.
Dealing with the proverbial elephant in the room will clear the way for you to make a real difference in your life and the lives of others. Once you have exposed those skeletons and dealt with the underlying problem, you will be free to deal with all of your other nagging hang-ups.
If you want more help or information on how to do this, I suggest you find a local Celebrate Recovery group to visit or look it up online. It’s making a huge difference in my life and I know it can help you with yours.
Blessings to all for a happy and prosperous 2011!

Christmas thoughts go round and round

As I sit here contemplating a column idea, I keep having these circular thoughts about things that are unrelated but connected nonetheless.
Every year at Christmas I get distressed about what the holiday has become. My interest in Christmas has certainly evolved over the course of my life. As a child, I, like most children, couldn’t wait for Christmas. Santa … snow … decorating the tree … and presents, lots and lot of presents!
Sure, we all know that Christmas is about giving and that it is more blessed to give than to receive. But it’s human nature – especially for children – to want to receive. We want to know what gifts we’re getting. We want to know what Santa brought us. I never once sat with my family around the Christmas tree eagerly waiting to see the expressions on their faces as they opened their gifts from me.
More often than not, I gave my brothers gifts that I wanted for myself and usually wound up with before the stroke of midnight on New Year’s. I had many a sleepless night in my pre-teen years as I tossed and turned in bed unable to sleep. Every few minutes I would peek to see if “Santa” had come. How he managed to deliver gifts each year without my knowing it still baffles me to this day.
My parents finally made a rule that my brothers and I could not wake them up before 5 a.m. to open gifts. I would usually go downstairs and start a fire in the pot belly stove around 4:30 and then head to the kitchen and make the coffee. It would be ready and waiting for them 30 minutes later as we excitedly dragged Mom and Dad out of bed.
By 5:15, the gifts would be open, the excitement would pass and then, as the post-present letdown started to sink in, I’d retreat to bed and let sleep win over for the next few hours.
As I reached adulthood, my interest in gifts very slowly began to wane. By the time I was in my 30s, I had more interest in watching my children open their gifts and had only a passing interest in opening mine. But then I saw my children – my own flesh and blood – become the greedy, self-absorbed monster I had been and I began to see Christmas in a whole, new light.
About this time I was growing rapidly in my Christian faith and I soon felt a degree of righteous indignation toward Christmas. I had finally figured out that Santa, Christmas trees, ornaments, lights and gifts – those precious gifts I had so longingly pined for – have nothing at all to do with Christmas. I began to see Christ – the real reason we have Christmas at all – being lost in this spending orgy and the surreal fantasy characters and idols that have displaced what should be a very sacred birthday party.
Once the term “black Friday” became popular, it occurred to me that this nation’s economy depends on Christmas for its survival. If it weren’t for the holiday spending sprees, our retail economy would collapse on itself. Our economic viability depends on our manufactured fairy tales that in no way have anything to do with the gift of Jesus for the salvation of all mankind.
That has me thinking of what it would be like if we ditched this modern version of Christmas and turned it back to the Christian celebration that it originally was. What if instead of fueling the greed, we gave generously to our churches and other charitable organizations? What if a Christmas service was the highlight of the celebration? Instead of making a Christmas tree the centerpiece of our celebration why don’t we gather around a nativity scene?
Going deeper and looking at the decay of Christianity in this country, I often think it would be nice to live in a place that was governed by Christian principles – a place where the moral corruption of the day could be held at bay. I know such isolated colonies have been attempted. Jonestown, the Branch Dravidians and the Mormon Trail come to mind.
But in my circular way of thinking, I realize that such a place would essentially become a theocracy. It then occurs to me that Middle Eastern countries ruled by Islam are just that.
Suddenly I find myself understanding why the Muslim world hates America so much. I understand why our immoral, crass lifestyle offends them and how they value their faith above what we would call basic human rights. I now understand why our brand of democracy is so offensive to them.
I still do not understand why they feel the need to wage war with us and to attack us with cowardly acts of terrorism. I clearly do not agree with their theology, ideology and any other “ology” that condones acts of hatred and terrorism. But I can sympathize with their desire to not have their way of life corrupted by our democracy, greed and our declining sense of morality.
All of a sudden I’m back to bemoaning the over-commercialism of Christmas and my thought pattern goes around once more.
Oh well, Merry Christmas to each of you. Please, never forget the real reason for the season.

A demented twist to some holiday favorites

For almost three weeks now Christmas music has been playing on the radio and everywhere you go.
I don’t know if I can hold out the remaining week until Christmas is over and regular music returns. I do like Christmas music, but I get tired of hearing the same songs over and over.
Since these things are stuck in my head, I thought it would be interesting to have some fun with them. So, I decided to write some parody lyrics. Without further ado, I present to you songs sung to the tune of:

The Christmas Song (Chestnuts roasting on an open fire)
Chipmunks roasting on an open fire,
Jack Daniels nipping at your nose,
Long underwear hanging on a wire,
And jerks dressed up like old hobos.
Everybody knows a turkey’s in the White House,
Hope to set the country right.
But all he’s done is act like a louse,
Making it hard to sleep at night.
He knows that election’s on its way;
He’s loaded with lots of beer, but hey.
And every Congressman is going to spy,
To see if healthcare is really going to fly.
And so like cattle sent out to graze,
Losing my job in a week or two,
And though it’s not wise, more of a craze,
I guess we’ll just re-elect you.

Feliz Navidad
Fleas on the dog,
Fleas on the dog,
Fleas on the dog,
And now they’re spreading to the kitty cat.
I really want this song to end,
I really want this song to end,
I really want this song to end,
’Cause they play it way too much
(Repeat endlessly)

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
I saw Daddy punching Santa Claus
In front of the Christmas tree last night
He slapped him across the cheek
And then bonked him on his beak
Then he hit him with a roundhouse
That knocked him off his feet.
Then I saw Daddy kicking Santa Clause
Kicked him with the left and then the right
Oh, what a sight it must have been
’Cause Daddy had just seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.
I saw Daddy punching Santa Claus
In front of the Christmas tree last night
He slapped him across the cheek
And then bonked him on his beak
Then he hit him with a roundhouse
That knocked him off his feet.
Then I saw Daddy kicking Santa Clause
Kicked him with the left and then the right
Oh, what a sight it must have been
’Cause Daddy had just seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

Santa Claus is Coming to Town
You better watch out
He’s starting to spy
He gonna find out
If the Falcon can fly
Boba Fett is coming to town
He’s gunning for Han
And Chewie too;
Gonna find out who’s best with a gun
Boba Fett is coming to town
He knows where you’ve been hiding
Like Imperial trash
He knows you can’t make light speed
Once you release the parking brake.
O! You better watch out
He’s starting to spy
Gonna find out
If the Falcon can fly
Boba Fett is coming to town.

I'm wise enough to know what smart is

As a child, I fervently prayed to God for wisdom. The Bible says that if we pray for wisdom that God will grant it in abundance.
“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5).
Apparently he must have found fault with me, because I never seemed to get the wisdom I asked for. As the text continues, “But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord.”
I equated wisdom with being smart. I believed only smart people are wise. It wasn’t until I was well into my adult years that I learned that wisdom and knowledge are two very different things. Knowledge is basically facts, information and understanding. Wisdom is the ability to prudently put knowledge into practice.
The whole time I was praying for wisdom, I really wanted knowledge. I wanted to be smart. What I wanted was for my own benefit, not for the glory of God.
You see, I had incredibly low self-esteem in my younger years. I was led by my peers to believe I was stupid. It turns out that I’m just slow. Being slow is not the same as being stupid. Somehow the two had become synonymous in our culture and in our education system.
In addition to being slow, I’ve always had a very difficult time with memorization. In elementary school, most tests were either timed or required rote memorization. Not being too good at either cost me a lot more than grades. I was seen by my peers as slow and stupid and often not worth their time. Bullies seemed to have plenty of time for me, however, which made school that much more difficult.
Moving ahead, one of the things that attracted me to journalism was that while it may be a deadline-oriented career, writing always gave me a chance to stop and compose my thoughts. Given the time to do what I needed, I discovered that I really wasn’t stupid (please, no comments from the peanut gallery).
It wasn’t long before my peers and former teachers who had pigeonholed me as an unteachable sloth were complimenting me on my insight and my ability to tell a story. It turns out that God did hear my prayers. He did grant me wisdom and knowledge. He just did it on his timetable, not mine. Either that or it took me this long to figure it out.
I do not believe in the slightest that I possess an abundance of wisdom but I do have enough to know that there will always be someone smarter, faster, more eloquent, slower, less intelligent and thickheaded than me. The only thing I’ll ever be the best at is being me. Trust me, it ain’t that hard!
All of this leads us to the question of why does anyone else care if I’m smart or stupid, wise or foolish? It matters because there are a lot of children in schools today who are waging the same internal struggle. Likewise, there are a lot of smart people out there who are ignorantly inflicting their view of intelligence on their peers and students who, like me, just need a little more time to work things out upstairs.
Remember this folks, it was the tortoise that beat the hare. Slow and steady wins the race. To borrow another cliché, this is my word to the wise and I’m sticking to it.

Reining in Rudolph
This weekend at First Colony Church of Christ in Sugar Land will present the world premier of the musical “Rudolph”. This original tale is loosely based on the animated “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” with a Christian twist to it. The music is original and very catchy. There is a lot of humor in the show and great sets and costumes. While I know this isn’t a local church, it is the church that my family attends, along with State Rep. John Zerwas.
I have the distinguished role of “elf” and my wife is cast as the “assistant director.” She is also one of the costumers. Last year in FCCC’s Winter’s Eve program, I was Santa and Sandy was “soot-covered neighbor.” Our eldest son Wesley is returning to his position behind the spotlight.
If you’re willing to drive an hour or so to Sugar Land this weekend, please try to catch one of the three performances. Tickets are $5 each and the money supports the Second Mile Mission. Showtimes are Saturday at 7:30 p.m. and Sunday at 2 and 7:30 p.m. Tickets will be available at the door or online at www.firstcolonychurch.org.

Breaking tradition to embrace nature

I broke tradition this year.
For as long as I can remember, I have always put up the Christmas tree on the weekend following Thanksgiving Day.
Alas, my poor tree remains confined in its box, stuffed way back in the attic. It waits, however, for a good reason. Instead of decorating for Christmas, we went camping at Brazos Bend State Park.
My two youngest sons are in Cub Scout Pack 1000 and my wife is the Cubmaster. She planned an exciting and fun weekend for the members of the pack, which helped us escape the madness of the malls and department stores for three days and two nights. The first night the temperature dipped to 29 degrees.
As someone who grew up camping in much colder temperatures in Colorado, that wasn’t a big deal. But I have to confess that I’ve acclimated better than I thought to the South Texas climate and I was surprised at how cold I felt.
Going to bed, I made a complete change into clean clothes and nestled into my trusty old mummy bag. As soon as it warmed up inside, I slept well until sometime around 3 or 4 a.m. when I had to roll over because of a pain in my hip. That’s when I made two unsettling discoveries. First, the pain came from sleeping on the hard ground. My air mattress had deflated. Second, when I rolled over, my backside pushed open the zipper of my sleeping bag in the middle.
So I sat up and began softly murmuring to myself as I wore my fingers raw trying to fix the zipper. After a few minutes I discovered a third unsettling thing. My bladder was darn near the bursting point. That added an element of urgency to my zipper repair job.
When I finally got it fixed, I got up and tip-toed through the maze of sleeping bags to the door. As I slipped on my shoes, I tripped and fell on my oldest son’s legs. By then everyone was grumbling and trying to get back to sleep as I anxiously whispered “sorry” several times. I was finally able to emerge into a beautiful moonlit night and answer nature’s call.
Returning to the tent and once again stumbling over my kids, I got back into bed and slept well the rest of the night. Come morning I was sitting around the campfire flipping pancakes. Being the most experienced camper in the group, it kinda fell on me to be the Lord of the Fire Pit and the Grillmaster. I thoroughly enjoy both jobs, but the hardest part was keeping a bunch of boys – especially my own – from throwing things in the fire.
Throughout the day we did all kinds of fun things like going on a nature hike, visiting the nature center, going to the observatory, fishing, and other such things. We were joined by members of Pack 201, which our pack helped start this fall. It was nice to make new friends and enjoy a gorgeous day outdoors in the park.
I think the hardest part about camping was breaking camp and parting ways. I just didn’t want that experience to end. I was vividly reminded of my childhood dream of growing up to be a forest ranger. All the rangers in the park seemed to love what they were doing. I used to be most comfortable outdoors as a boy. I liked traipsing through the creeks and ponds, catching frogs and fish and, in my teens, hunting for fowl and small game.
There is a passion that this weekend rekindled in my bones that made me long to return to the adventurous ways of my youth. I know that I can’t live vicariously through my children, but I can expose them to the things I enjoyed at their age and see if any of them take an interest. Based on what I saw this weekend, that shouldn’t be much of a problem.
I honestly feel they would get more out of life by camping, hunting, fishing, riding bikes, skipping stones across the water, catching critters, and hiking in the woods than they will watching TV or playing video games. Who knows, maybe we’ll start some new family traditions.
In the meantime, we may have missed the date, but there is still the tradition of the Christmas tree to tend to. I sure am looking forward to a great Christmas season.
P.S. Happy 8th birthday to my son, Colton.