We’ve never had much of an art collection. Our home mostly is decorated with the artwork of friends, a few photographs that we have taken, and reprints that have meaning for us. But I have seen great art. I remember standing mesmerized by paintings of Claude Monet at the Art Institute of Chicago. I have been awed at the sight of stained glass by Marc Chagall when traveling in Europe. The list of wonderful art that I have witnessed in my life is long and there are so many memories of great beauty expressed in the artwork of human beings.

But I don’t have to travel to be immersed in beauty. Our home has a daylight basement. The basement is buried on the west end, but open on the east end as the hill slopes away from the house. On the east end of the basement are the kitchen and living room of a small apartment that was designed into our home. The living room has become my library with shelves on all of the walls except the East, which has a beautiful window matching the one in the kitchen. It is in this room that I do much of my writing and thinking and preparing for my days. And it is out of those windows that I am gifted with panoramic sunrises day after day.

I know a little bit about photography and I have a very good camera. I can control aperture and shutter speed, thus controlling my depth of field. I know a little bit about filters and reducing glare. But I know that I can’t capture the sunrises that I witness.

Not that the knowledge keeps me from trying.

As I look through the images of the past year it is remarkable how many are taken at sunrise.

The beauty in which I am immersed, however, isn’t reserved for sunrise only. The hills are prone to spectacular sunsets. And the creeks that flow around us have some stunning waterfalls. A few steps into the forest reveals a stunning vista of shadows and light in the midst of the trees.

And the beauty isn’t limited to what the eyes can see.

Yesterday I was holding a six-week old baby. He was calm and quiet in my arms. His black hair and dark eyes were absolutely gorgeous. But there is more beauty to holding a baby than what your eyes see. It is the feel of new life in your arms, the soft breathing against your chest, and the knowledge of the joy of new life in your heart.

I have witnessed the beauty of the glances a couple exchange after decades of marriage and shared life. I have been with teens at the moment of confirmation and commitment. I have sat at a bedside as death is experienced with grace and courage.

I have lived immersed in beauty.

I know that there are good and faithful people who long for a distant and different heaven. I have read the descriptions of streets paved in gold. cities of gleaming white and the majesty and splendor of the throne of God. And I have no direct knowledge of what lies beyond death for people of faith. I know that it is beyond imagination. In Corinthians, Paul quotes the prophet, “But, as it is written,
“no eye has seen, nor ear heard,     nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.”

So I am content to wait for what will be revealed in its own time.

But I don’t have to wait to have witnessed paradise.

I have already been invited to sit at the table with angels.

I will never forget the taste of eating Gallo Pinto with Pastor Dorotea while sitting on a homemade bench in front of a homemade table on the bare concrete floors of a little church in Costa Rica. The years have passed. The floors have been tiled. The tables and benches have so many coats of paint on them that they seem to be made of paint alone. But the food has never been better than it was on that day as we struggled to understand each other’s language, but knew each other’s struggles and tasted the genuine hospitality of colleagues.

I have feasted on wohanpi and fry bread and wojapi with friends from the Dakota Association. We have a long and mixed history and earning trust is a slow process. There is no better food and when it is offered with love there is no finer meal ever served.

I am willing to wait for the glories of heaven because I have already been invited to feast with angels in paradise.

I am looking forward to this week with great anticipation. We have invited colleagues from neighboring churches and people from the community to share in a community thanksgiving service on Tuesday evening. It will be a great celebration of the faith we hold in common and the ministries in which we share in our town.

The next day we will drive to Missouri to our daughter’s home to share a holiday weekend with her. We get to play the role of host and guest in the same week and to celebrate Thanksgiving in different ways and different places.

It is appropriate to offer thanks and praise multiple times because we have been so blessed.

The horizon is still dark as I look out my window, but I know that there is another brilliant sunrise just over the horizon. I think I can see a bit of pre-dawn glow starting to creep into the scene outside my window. I love this time of day as I anticipate the beauty that is about to burst forth. It is good to live on the border between the glory of the night sky with all of its stars and the brilliance of sunrise. Immersed in beauty there is yet still more to be revealed.

Thanksgiving is every day.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

We’ve come to the end of another year in the Christian Calendar. Next Sunday, we start all over again with the First Sunday of Advent. The traditional name for the last Sunday of the year is “Christ the King.” In recent years, many congregations have shifted the language to call the day “Reign of Christ.” The shift in language is a reaction to what some perceive to be an overuse of English titles and hierarchy that might lead believers to have misperceptions about the ways God works in our world.

The roots of the holiday are deep. In Roman Times as people felt the burden of the oppression of the empire, believers reminded each other that there was an authority that was higher than the Emperor. Similar language was used among the faithful living under the oppression of the European feudal system in the middle ages. During the years of the slavery of Africans in the United States, the concept found expression in song and powerful preaching.

There have been, however, times when the same notion has been twisted into a kind of triumphalism expressed by those who have power. There is a kind of “our religion is better than your religion” attitude that forms.

In the church, we need constant reminders that although God is in charge of this world and Jesus reigns over all, the way that God participates in human life and the way that Jesus leads is not the way of earthly politicians and rulers. It is a tradition to read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion on this day as a reminder that temporal concepts such as winning and losing and even life and death are redefined in the the encounter with the divine.

Jesus’ first disciples struggled with the concept. Mark reports that Jesus said to the twelve, “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.” (Mk 9:35). A parallel text reads, “Not so with you. Instead, however wants to become great among you must be your servant.” (Mt 20:26). The idea is repeated several times in the Gospels. Christ’s way in this world is not the way of earthly rulers and decision makers. The dynamics of power are not as they are in human politics.

The greatest role for a human is to serve and to sacrifice for others.

We have a fascination with royalty. Even in the United States members of the the British Royalty are the subjects of news stories and countless conversations. We seem to enjoy speculating about what it might be like to be a member of a royal family. Articles and stories about the rich and powerful in our country are the stuff of our tabloids and many blogs because people seem to be fascinated with those lifestyles.

It is as if each one of us carries within us a bit of Tevye, the father in the play Fiddler on the Roof, as he sings and dances his dream about what it would be like to be a rich man. What is a lottery ticket if not a dream of becoming wealthy.

Christians, however, follow a different kind of leader. Jesus was never rich in the goods of this world. He never accumulated a lot of possessions. He didn’t serve with acts of philanthropy. As he was dying, some mocked him calling out for him to save himself by coming down from the cross. He submitted to the authority of earthly rulers and powers. He suffered and died under Roman rule. We know that the story doesn’t end at this point, but we also know that the path of following Jesus is not a path that leads to earthly recognition, fame or fortune.

Ours is a road of service. Jesus warned, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Lk 9:23). The path of a disciple is not an easy path, nor does it lead to recognition, wealth or power.

It has been called the great reversal.

Meaning and faithfulness don’t necessarily lead to places of honor in this life. For the faithful, however, there is always more to the story.

Still, we don’t really know how to celebrate this day in the contemporary church. A message reminding people that they are called to serve and suffer doesn’t sell very well in the marketplace. Churches have succumbed to the pressures of this world. They want to succeed. People are attracted to churches that have large buildings and full parking lots. And the places that draw the crowd aren’t doing so by promising people pain and suffering and a life of service. I have yet to see a television ad for a church that promises that those who attend that church will become servants of all. What we celebrate today doesn’t sell well in the marketplace.

So many congregations have turned to a kind of triumphalism on this day. They preach about power and about Jesus reigning over all the world. They talk about some imagined future day when Christ will come in the form of an earthly ruler and sit on a throne and lord it over all the others. I guess the presumed, but unspoken, message of such a vision is that somehow those who believe, or perhaps those who participate in the right church, will somehow have a place of privilege in the new hierarchy that will be established by Jesus.

Not being an expert in predicting the future, I prefer to look at the traditions and stories of our people for clues about what I am called to do and to be. And there I discover a path of quiet service that doesn’t lead to fame or wealth or any other things that might be seen to be rewards by the standards of this world.

So we cut and split and haul firewood. It is a dirty job. We come home with our pockets filled with wood chips and bark. There are cold days when the wind bites at our cheeks and dusty days when our eyes sting. And in the midst of it all we find the joy of service. It is a path worth following.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

The good news is that the forecast is calling for light or no winds throughout the day - winds under 5 mph all day at Eagle Butte. Still, it will be cold. It’s only 7 degrees up there as I write with a forecast high of 23. We should be working outside during the warmest part of the day. And, as I said, there isn’t supposed to be much wind.

There are ten parking slots in the northwest corner of our church parking lot. Each is occupied by a trailer filled with firewood. Around town most of the tow vehicles are filled with firewood. And there are a few pickup trucks that won’t be towing trailers that are also filled. Add to that the SUV that will be hauling more than 50 frozen turkeys and the four boxes of books that are in the back seat of our pickup truck, and the boxes of knitted hats and scarves, and we’re ready for our annual run to Eagle Butte.

It is a pretty good run - a little over 180 miles one way. And we’ll make an impressive caravan with 14 or 15 vehicles, ten of which are pulling trailers. Wherever we stop along the way, the first question will be, “Where are you heading with all of that firewood?”

One of the things that is most surprising about it is that this is the third Saturday in a row of firewood deliveries. We’ve delivered over 32 cords of firewood to other locations already. That’s pretty impressive for a project that started with a few trees from a family’s project of thinning trees on their property, a borrowed pickup and horse trailer and a handful of volunteers.

From those humble beginnings our church’s firewood project has grown to over 100 cords to be delivered this year without any meetings, without any budget, and with a basic principle of “What people give us we will use, what they don’t give us we will get along without.”

To get a picture of the scale of the operation, today’s delivery will consume over $1,500 of fuel. All of that fuel will be donated by the owners of the vehicles. Each person will pay for her or his own fuel as we make the trip. Add to that the fuel for the splitters and chainsaws, the wear and tear on tires and equipment, and the generosity of the congregation is truly impressive.

I have written about the Woodchuck Society many times over the years and there isn’t much additional that needs to be said and these days talking about the Society sounds mostly like bragging to my ears. And I don’t mean to devote space in this blog to self aggrandizement.

It is important to say that while I have participated in a lot of Woodchuck work days and deliveries, the idea wasn’t mine and has grown through the leadership of lay members not through some extraordinary pastoral leadership.

I believe that projects like the Woodchuck society are an important expression of the faith of our people. They want to help others. They want to serve. They want to be connected with our neighbors. The ministry sprung from the grass roots and the positive intentions of the people of the church.

Hands on mission isn’t the the only aspect of ministry in our congregation. We budget tens of thousands of dollars a year for benevolences, including major support of Our Church’s Wider Mission, an important source of funds for our church’s state and national ministries. We receive special elections for Neighbors in Need, One Great Hour of Sharing, The Christmas Fund and Strengthen the Church. We support Church World’s Service’s Blanket Fund. Our youth group’s two biggest fund drives each year are for mission projects: Souper Bowl Sunday and Big Brothers/Big Sisters.

And our congregation is quick to respond to emergencies. Last week, in addition to our annual pledge drive for our operating budget, there were announcements about Blanket Sunday and we were preparing for this week’s turkey delivery. In addition we ran a otter from Jim Moos, our church’s minister for Wider Church Ministries, appealing for support for a special fund for Hurricane Relief in the Philippines. That letter in the bulletin produced over $800 on Sunday and people have been bringing in checks all week.

People are generous. They want to be connected. They want to serve.

Having said that I finally am getting around to the story I want to tell. We have a freezer in the church, so we can receive some of the turkeys that are donated to be distributed by the pastors of the Dakota Association can be dropped off during the week by those who are unable to meet us at the church this morning. Working in the building, I get to visit with people as they drop off their donations. I received a turkey from a successful doctor with a thriving practice and a very busy lifestyle. It probably would have been easier for him to make a cash donation. He was scrambling because he has to leave early this morning for an out of state trip. He works long days because his practice is growing. But somehow he found time to go to a store, buy a turkey and make a special trip to the church to deliver it.

Another member is a widow who lives on very limited means. She was born in another country and her primary connection to our city was her husband. When he died, she was left alone. With no family and little means to return to her homeland, she stuggles to survive in our community. Sometimes she needs to ask for help with home repairs and other tasks that overwhelm her. She drives a 25-year-old car that seems to always be on its last legs. She dropped by the church with a turkey that was so heavy that she struggled to cary it by herself.

There is something right about a ministry in which a struggling widow and a successful physician are able to make the same sized donation.

There is something right about a church that inspires such generosity.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

I was in the 5th grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Wolley, had a reputation for being a stern disciplinarian, but I never found her to be much of a problem. Far bigger as a problem in my mind was the gang of girls who seemed to dominate the class. The biggest was Debbie, who lived at the other end of the same block as I did. She had been held back and was older than the rest of us and she was not afraid to use her size to intimidate others. So I learned to get out of the building and head home quickly to stay ahead of Debbie and her pals. We always went home for lunch. Our school’s hot lunch program was held at the high school which was a block farther than our home. Besides family dinner was a big deal for our parents. We were on the lunch-dinner-supper plan. Dad closed his shop for an hour between noon and 1 pm and we all sat down together.

My sister, the seventh-grader, traveled with other girls and It wasn’t hard to beat her home. They had to talk. My little brother was in the second grade and he had yet to ever arrive anywhere on time. He’s 57 now and he is no less a slave to the clock than he was in those days. He knew the names of all of the cats and dogs that inhabited the block between the school and our home and he needed to check in on each of them. There was no problem with my being the first one home for lunch. The little boys would be home already. Kindergarten got out at 11:30 and the youngest wasn’t even old enough to go there. Some days I could get as much as five minutes upstairs with my train board before having to sit at the table with the family.

I knew when I entered the house that this wasn’t an ordinary day, however. The television was on and mom was paying intense attention to the news program that was running. Television was a rather recent addition to our house. Everyone else in the neighborhood had a television before our family got one. It was reserved for evenings, however. Our folks watched the news and there were a few programs that we got to watch on Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings. I checked to see if anyone was home sick, which was the other reason the TV might be on, but there was no one convalescing on the daybed. We knew better than to fake sickness in our home anyway. Mom was a nurse. She could tell. And if you were truly sick, you’d be treated for whatever ailed you.

The only other reason for the television in our house to be on before the evening news was a space shot. We all watched together as Alan Shepherd blasted off when I was 7 and we had watched every space shot since. Aviation and space were a big deal in our family.

I asked Mom what was going on. She shushed me for a minute and then told me that the President had been shot. I watched the pictures of people in hallways and shots of police cars with flashing lights in some distant city. I have a clear memory of Walter Cronkite sitting at a desk in shirt and tie, but without the jacket that was normally worn for evening news, making the announcement of the death of President Kennedy. After the announcement he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. I have watched the re-run so many times that now I don’t know whether or not I actually saw it on that day or only watched reruns later. In my memory I was at home for the announcement.

It was a somber lunch at our house, our folks talking in low tones. We kids were pretty subdued, thought I’m sure that I asked whether or not we had to go back to school. We’d never known the death of a President. I didn’t know if school would go on as usual when such an event happen or not. We did return to school, but the rest of the day wasn’t devoted to the regular schedule. The principal came to each class room and made an announcement about the death of the president. I don’t remember what he said, but he spoke in the same somber tone that he used at church and he said something about the assassination of President Lincoln as well as the death of President Kennedy.

It is one of the things that marks people my age and older. We can all remember where we were when we heard the news on that day. Those who are younger don’t have as clear memories of the day and those who are a decade or more younger weren’t alive when President Kennedy was shot. We didn’t know that it was the start of a tumultuous decade that was also marred by the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy.

The scenes of the funeral still replay in my mind as if I were watching them on television. I remember the flag-draped casket in the horse drawn cortege, the shot of John John saluting the flag, the soldiers standing neatly at attention with tears on their cheeks. And I remember it all as we watched it: in black and white.

Everyone knew what the topic of conversation would be at the post office and grocery store and church for the next few weeks. We were going through a deep grief together. President Kennedy hadn’t garnered a majority in my county in the election, but there was more respect for the office than is demonstrated these days. There were no sick jokes or mean comments that I heard. We were a nation in mourning and we all participated without distinction of party or denomination.

So today, as our nation remembers what happened 50 years ago, some of us have clear memories of that time. Others struggle to understand how that event became such a turning point.

I remember my mother’s words on that day: “Pray for peace.”

I’m still praying for peace.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

Being an island nation, many of the people of the Philippines earn their living from the sea. The traditions of fishing go back for millennia. The traditional Filipino fishing boat is called a Banca. The boats are based on earlier designs. They usually have a deep v hull with outriggers on both sides for added stability. Hulls were hollowed out logs in some early forms, but in contemporary times, most Banca are made out of plywood. The outriggers, as in former times, are made of bamboo. Banca come in many different sizes. In modern times, they are often powered by engines. It is not uncommon to have a Banca with an automobile or truck engine and transmission. The propellor is mounted on the end of the driveshaft.

Banca are used to transport people and goods and there are Banca that hold more than 100 people. The fishermen, however, use small Banca and paddles to ply their trade. There are a few outboard motors and other small motors that have been improvised for propulsion on small Banca.

The livelihood of many fishermen, however, disappeared in the roar of Super Typhoon Hayian. The boats were crushed and ripped asunder. No one is counting the number of destroyed boats as rescue efforts continue to focus on providing help to injured persons and recovery and burial of the dead. But without boats the fishermen have no income. Without boats they have no food to feed their families.

People can be remarkably innovative when the need is great. That is what happened in Tanauan, a small coastal town 20 km south of Tacloban. Tanauan used to be a fishing village. The storm, however, destroyed virtually all of the boats in the village and with them the opportunities for people to earn a living.

In a BBC interview Jimmy Obaldo, a local fisherman, told of how his children asked him if they could use an old refrigerator as a boat for play. He decided that if it would work for play, it might just work for fishing. He devised a frame and outriggers of bamboo and succeeded in catching fish and crabs. His neighbors imitated and soon there were enough improvised refrigerator boats in Tanauan to catch the attention of reporters covering storm damage and recovery. More importantly, there were enough refrigerator boats to catch enough fish to begin to feed the families of the fishermen.

As you might imagine, the boats are hardly hydrodynamic and they are difficult to paddle and steer. It takes four men to carry a boat out into the surf and they are usable only when the seas are very calm. They cannot carry as large nets as were common for fishing before the storm, so the nets have been cut into smaller sizes to suit the situation.

They aren’t catching enough fish to sell yet, and there is no market should they have extra fish, but the refrigerator boats are providing a return to work for some of the fishermen.

It can take several months to build a proper Banca. And it requires plywood. There is not currently any source of plywood in the area and if there were, it would likely be used to build homes and improve shelter for the people who are living in improvised homes. No one knows yet how long it will be before proper boats can be built and the fishing industry revived.

In the meantime, you have to marvel at the ingenuity of refrigerator boats. I watched a bit of video of the boats in action and I have no idea how they came up with the idea. Sure a refrigerator is water tight and, with the door removed displaces enough water to carry the load of a fisherman. They even ride in the water with enough freeboard to demonstrate their ability to carry additional weight. But a refrigerator is essentially a box and a box is far from stable in the water. A box tries to tip over and fill with water. A box resists motion with its flat sides pushing large amounts of water. A box is a far cry from the elegant and time-tested shapes of traditional Baca.

But there are plenty of destroyed refrigerators in the rubble of the destroyed town. They are available and can be obtained without money. And the fishermen have time and some innate knowledge of the sea and boatbuilding. A small amount of experimentation provided information on where to attach the beams and at what level the outriggers should ride. I suspect that it won’t be long before a fisherman discovers some other rubble that can be crafted to form a bit of a v at the bow of the boat to improve stability and make the craft a bit easier to steer and paddle. Everything has to be made from salvage. Different builders will find different materials and new ideas will emerge.

For now there is fresh fish for some families some days as the people of Tanauan work to recover from the devastation of the storm. I can’t help but wish them smooth seas and happy paddling as they head out to fish the shallow coastal waters.

I’m thinking that refrigerator boats aren’t going to catch on in the waters where I paddle. But we have never faced anything like the typhoon that ripped through the Philippines.

Still, I have seen people use their imaginations here this week. We are in the midst of our fall stewardship campaign. We are also playing a bit of catch up with this year’s budget after a year of special appeals including a major capital improvements fund drive. This coming Sunday is Blanket Sunday at our church. We have been asking for donations of our members at every turn. Still, we felt that it was important to share with them the letter from Rev. James Moos, the minister for Wider Church Ministries of our denomination. So we included that letter in our bulletin on Sunday. The response was generous and significant. Over $800 came in designated for Typhoon recovery. Additional gifts have come in during the week. Others have said that they will be making gifts in the coming weeks.

When we thought we had pushed the limits of the generosity of the congregation, we discovered that additional generosity still exists. The graciousness of the people and their compassion for those living in the Philippines is amazing.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

One of the things about myself that sometimes puzzles me is that I am not very good at mathematics. I failed to study much of math beyond algebra and geometry when I was in school. I know that mathematics are a young person’s game and that most true mathematical breakthroughs have come from young minds. Still, I think i would have been intrigued by math if i had disciplined myself to study it more in my early life.

The reason this is such a puzzle is that philosophy and theology and mathematics go together so well. All three disciplines are interested in logical patterns and ways of thinking that avoid contradictions.

Mathematicians and theologians both employ the concept of paradox, though the usage may be slightly different. Mathematicians tend to see paradoxes as problems to be solved. Theologians are perhaps quicker to live with paradox.

A paradox is a statement that apparently contradicts itself and yet appears to be true. A simple example is, “less is more.” From a mathematical perspective the paradox doesn’t exist. The statement is simply mathematically false. But from a philosophical perspective, there are times when having less possessions can lead to more quality life, less options makes for more freedom of choice and many other places where less is more appears to be logically valid.

Some of my theological colleagues love the concept of paradox so much that they use the label to avoid a complete logical examination of their beliefs. Using the label paradox does not make the statement true. In fact from a logical perspective most things that are called paradoxes are, in reality invalid statements. Other statements only appear to contain contradictions but in fact do not. An example of the latter is “death is not the end.” The key to that statement is probably in the use of the word “the.” If one used “an” instead the statement would be false. Death is the end of some things. It is just not the end of everything.

At the risk of getting hopelessly lost in a game of words that might at once be boring and also confounding, it is probably important to at least attempt to state Russell’s paradox in a blog post on the topic. Bertrand Russell was a turn of the twentieth century philosopher and mathematician who first published a paradox of lists. He, of course, posed a mathematical problem, but it might be stated as a word problem like this: Does a list of all lists that do not contain themselves contain itself? If it does, contain itself it is no longer a list of things that do not contain themselves. If it does not, then it should be added to the list because the list would not contain all of the lists that do not contain itself unless it is added.

Trust me, mathematicians and philosophers have invested countless hours pondering problems like this.

Here is a paradox from one of the sayings of Jesus. in Matthew 25, Jesus compares the realm of God to a shepherd separating sheep from goats. Some people are put into a group that is welcomed into God’s realm because they saw Jesus hungry and gave him something to eat, they saw him thirsty and gave him something to drink and the like. These people were not aware it was Christ they saw, they had, rather done it for “one of the least f these brothers and sisters of mine.” The second group are cursed and cast into eternal punishment because when they saw Jesus hungry they gave no food, when he was thirsty they gave no water, etc. Like the first group, they were unaware of having seen Jesus. Once again Jesus reminds them of “one of the least.”

Here is the paradox: Most of us could easily be put into both categories. There have been times in my life when I saw a hungry person and offered food. There have also been times in my life when I passed by a hungry person and did not respond. The same is true with thirsty, strangers, naked, those who are sick and those in prison. I could be judged to be a member of both groups. But in Jesus’ description everyone is assigned only a single category. They are either saved or cursed.

People have been pondering that problem for thousands of years. Some try counting and comparing: “Did I offer food more times than I refused?” “Did I visit the sick more often than not?” I suspect that most of us would come up short in that way of counting.

I think that Jesus told the story precisely because it calls into question our ways of counting and judging. From one point of view, if the judgement is by our standards, we all fall short. No person, not even Mother Teresa never failed to visit a sick person. There are simply too many sick people in the world. If someone had fed all of the hungry persons there would be no hungry people. The fact that there are thirsty people in the world means that no one has responded to all of the thirst. In a sense we all belong in the group of the condemned.

But it is also true that the standard for acceptance into the group of the blessed is incredibly low. One visit to a sick person. One morsel of food to a hungry person. Virtually all of us have responded with compassion at some point in our lives. That meets the criteria for being in the other group.

The point of the story, it seems, is that we are at the same time guilty and saved. That is a true paradox.

I don’t think that it can be solved by mathematics.

Boatbuilders like to ask this question: If you have a boat and you replace one part of the boat is it the same boat? Most answer, “yes.” So if you replace one part at a time until every piece of the boat has been replaced is it sill the same boat?” It is called the “Ship of Theses” paradox.

Perhaps we ourselves are ships of theses. In 2 Corinthians 4:6 it is written: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed every day.”

Something new is emerging.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

These days it isn’t at all uncommon for me to wake up with a little ache or pain. Perhaps I slept in a position that results in a temporary stiffness, perhaps I did something the previous day that stretched a little-used muscle. I’m not certain that this is the case, but it sure seems like I have these little aches and pains more frequently than I did a couple of decades ago. I think that they may just be part of aging.

To be sure, these are not major pains. In fact, my life has been remarkably free from pain. I have never needed a major surgery, I have never broken a bone. What little arthritis I have is expressed primarily in knobby buckles and minor pain in my hands. I did suffer some rather serious burns a few years ago and I have had the occasional toothache that kept me from thinking about anything but the pain in my jaw. On one occasion, I ended up having an emergency dental procedure in the late evening because I couldn’t bear the thought of trying to get through the night with the pain.

Still, if you were to look in our bathroom medicine cabinet, you would find aspirin, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen. We keep a modest supply of three different over the counter pain medications in our home at most times. There are small bottles of the same three medications in the first aid kit that I keep in my car as well. Just reporting this makes me think that I ought to check expiration dates on the labels of the medications. I almost never take any of the medicines. I simply don’t need them. But I keep them on hand “just in case.”

The fear of pain without resources to treat it keeps the sales of over-the-counter pain medications high and I participate in that economy.

Still, I believe that not all pain is bad. Pain is the body’s way of communicating that there is some trouble that needs to be addressed. In my case, at my age, the problem that needs to be addressed is often simply a lack of exercise. I know from my own experience that when I wake stiff and sore a gentle paddle on the lake or a set of stretching exercises in my home can ease the discomfort and help me get ready to face the rest of the day. I seem to need occasional reminders that my life has become a bit too sedentary and I need to be more intentional about exercise.

The Romans had a name for a small pain that has given a word to our language that we often use without much thought of its origins or true meaning. In Latin a scrupulous is a small and sharp stone that gets lodged in one’s sandal that transforms walking - an act that we usually take for granted and don’t reflect upon - into a constant annoyance. Each step provides a constant reminder that one has just take a step. Before Christianity was the religion of Rome, the term had been expanded to include any small thing that made one aware of a part of life that one normally took for granted.

A scruple is a unit of weight equal to one twenty-fourth of an ounce. That is 20 grains or about 1.3 grams. In general, the term has come to mean a very small amount.

Gradually over years of use the term scruples came to mean small doubts. A scruple is a tiny doubt that makes us question whether an act is right or wrong. We might simply act without thinking about what we do except for that tiny hint of doubt. In contemporary use the term can be used to describe a positive attitude - the ability to question actions and to think about what is right and what is wrong before acting.

Religious leaders also speak of scrupulosity as a trait that can prevent people from living fully and abundantly. People can develop obsessive concerns about their sinfulness and feel that the tiniest misstep is somehow a mortal sin. It isn’t all that uncommon to encounter someone who is kept from living fully and abundantly because of their inability to lett past mistakes go and move on. Sometimes these obsessions manifest themselves in psychological disorders that require intensive treatment. More often, they become small barriers that people need to learn to overcome in order ot get on with their lives.

I have learned that those little doubts are often my friends. When I take time to listen to those thoughts in the back of my mind, I am able to make better decisions. When I don’t take time to think about the consequences of my actions, I often make decisions that I later regret.

I find this to be true when it comes to financial decisions. When we were young and both going to school, we didn’t have much money and we had to weigh every expense. We kept track of all of our money very carefully and gave thought to how a purchase or donation would affect other needs and wants. These days we earn a bit more money and have a bit more discretion. I come home in the evenings, take the change out of my pockets and put it in a container in my bedroom. I rarely think about that money. Sometimes I’ll raid my coins for money for parking meters or the carwash (though these days it takes a whole lot of quarters to wash the car and the machine now accepts $1 and $5 bills and credit cards). A couple of times a year we practice the discipline of small gifts with coin boxes for Habitat for Humanity or One Great Hour of Sharing. Whenever we do this I am amazed at the amount of money that I leave lying around my house. When I count the coins, it seems to me crazy how much I have ignored. I don’t believe in wasting money, but I have been known to do it.

So I’m grateful for scruples. I am grateful for the small pains that make me think of things I might otherwise ignore. Life is a gift every day. Sometimes I need a small pain to remind me that I am alive. The abundance and generosity of the congregation is a constant reality. Sometimes I need to pinch a few pennies to be reminded of how great this gift really is.

The important thing is that I don’t need to fear pain. Sometimes a little pain can be a very good thing indeed.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

Just in case you are uncertain, no, I am not under 25 years of age. And, no, I don’t have Snapchat installed on my phone. I barely know what the application does. If I understand it, the application is a social media program that lets users send each other photos which automatically delete after a few seconds. The concept is that there are many things in life that are ephemeral. They come, are a part of our lives for a while, and then are gone. We are formed by our reactions to a lot of different things. So a bright young Stanford dropout started a company around a way of using smart phones to have images from the lives of friends that come and go.

I’m not particularly interested in looking at the coffee my friends are drinking or even the decor of the coffee shops they visit. And I’m not the kind of person who looks at a picture and then deletes it. I think of photography in an entirely different way. Photographs are records to me. They hold the story of our people. I am in the process of digitizing thousands of slides taken by my mother and my father in law. The photographs they made tell part of the story of our family and ought to be preserved in a way that makes them accessible to future generations.

Snapchat, however, is founded on the concept that users don’t want to have things that are left behind. It automatically erases its own online presence without leaving a trace.

But those future generations don’t see photographs that way at all. They are like the images that flash across the television screen. Here one second, gone the next. They think in a visual manner, but don’t need to keep the visual clues once they have taken a glance.

Still, I am intrigued by the person Evan Spiegel. Like I said, he’s 23. He dropped kurt of Stanford. He started up a social media company and somehow earned the backing of some of the biggest names in Silicon Valley venture capital. He seems poised to become one of the next dot com billionaires if he can figure out how to get people to pay for a social media experience.

What Intrigues me about him might be summed up in a tweet that he reportedly sent a day or so ago. I didn’t receive the tweet and he is the master of deleting social exchanges from the internet, so I don’t know for sure the content of the exchange. The report is that he simply said, “We’re enjoying being an independent company.”

That might not mean much, but, according to online reports, it was a response to an offer from Facebook to purchase his company for $3 billion. It isn’t every 23-year-old who would turn down a $3 billion offer.

On the other hand, it is, in a way a poetic response for Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook. Zuckerberg, at the ripe old age of 29 has already been recognized as Time’s Person of the Year, but I suppose that in the world of social media who is on the cover of a magazine doesn’t mean much. Way back when he was only 22 years old, Zuckerberg turned down a $1 billion offer from Yahoo to buy Facebook. It didn’t seem to derail his career. From all indications, he has been doing fine since making that decision. After all he somehow found the funds to make a $3 billion offer to Spiegel.

Of course all of this is completely in the realm of fantasy for someone like me. I have no idea what a billion is, let alone three billion. I’m pretty sure that no one is wanting to offer me a billion for any of my ideas. And I haven’t ever started a company, so I have no idea of how a company that has yet to make any profits at all can be worth billions. The world of billionaires and dot com startups seems to go on quite well without my input.

And, though I do use social media a bit, I have never really gotten into any of the ones that seem to be making billions. A guy who writes a thousand word essay every morning is not likely to be satisfied with Twitter’s 140 character limit. I have the Facebook application on my phone but mostly it seems to be people I know inviting me to play 21 questions, or jackpot casino slot machines, or dragon city. Apparently they didn’t get the hint when I declined to play farmville.

I guess the thing that is appealing about snapchat is that when I don’t respond to the selfies my friends send me it automatically deletes them.

I admit that I haven’t got a clue about what does or does not succeed on the Internet and I’m not likely to be the source of the next big billion dollar idea.

But I like the thought of a twenty-three-year-old who has the courage to turn down $3 billion. Not every person his age has that kind of confidence. Not every person his age understands that happiness is not a product of how much money you have. I don’t know what Spiegel was thinking. Maybe he is simply a good businessman and knows how to make more than $3 billion. Maybe he is arrogant and thinks that his idea is worth a whole lot more. But I like to think that he turned down $3 billion because he knows there are things that are more important than money.

When I was in my twenties, I chose a vocation that is not noted for big salaries and the accumulation of wealth. For me it was a great decision. I’ve had more joy and satisfaction from my life than people who have millions or billions of dollars. I can’t imagine giving up my vocation for any amount of money. After all, I don’t understand what a billion is. I’m sure I wouldn’t have a clue about how to manage such an amount.

I’m happy with the way things have turned out. I wouldn’t change places with Spiegel - not even for $3 billion.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

As a Sheriff’s Chaplain and a member of the Pennington County LOSS (local outreach to survivors of suicide) team, I have probably seen the immediate aftermath of a death by suicide than the average person. As a person who has been involved in suicide response and support for many years and as one trained in ASIST (applied suicide intervention skills training), I have probably thought about the dynamics of suicide more than is typical. I have been diligent in keeping up with regular continuing training. I watch the International Survivors of Suicide Telecast each year, even when other commitments prevent me from attending the public showing in our community. I keep up with research on suicide and suicide prevention through my professional membership in the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). I have participated in Out of the Darkness Community Walks and even been a speaker at events for Survivors of Suicide.

Having said that, it is important to add that I don’t understand suicide. I do not know what is going through the mind of the victims of suicide at the moment of their death. I have witnessed the pain of loss. I understand the dynamics of the unique nature of suicide grief. I have tried to learn as much as I am able, but I don’t understand suicide.

I would submit that no one does, not even the experts.

A critical piece of evidence about the nature of suicide is lost with each death by suicide - the thoughts of the one who dies.There is much that can be learned by studies of those who attempt suicide and survive, and such studies are helpful, but we still don’t have all of the information involved. We never will.

International Survivors of Suicide Day will be Saturday, November 23, 2013. Our church is one of many locations around the world that will provide a safe and healing space where everyone can comfortably participate in a way that is meaningful. The diverse group of survivors will discuss their losses and how they cope and listen to a panel of experts with the latest information on suicide, suicide grief, and recovery.

As I continue to work with others in our community to find ways of engaging in effective suicide prevention, I know that there is much more we can do to save lives. Understanding of the nature of mental illness combined with trained community resource people and adequate mental health services can make a big difference. Depression, a major factor in suicide can be effectively treated in the vast majority of cases.

Recently I have been pondering a death by suicide that occurred in December 2010. I did not know the victim. I never met any of the members of his family. I only know the things that were reported in newspapers and other media. As with every suicide there is much that we do not know. This particular suicide received so much media attention that it is hard to know the true meaning and impact of the event.

The known facts are relatively simple: At midday on December 17, 2010, a fruit vendor named Mohamed Bouazizi walked to the offices of the regional government. Standing in the street outside the entrance, he doused himself with a can of gasoline and struck a match to his clothing. Shouting, “How do you expect me to make a living?” he quickly succumbed to his burns. Although the flames were extinguished and he lived for another eighteen days, he never woke from his coma.

We know the story because by the time of his burial on January 4, the signs of a powerful change were sweeping across North Africa and the Middle East. It was dubbed “Arab Spring” by reporters and observers. The subsequent revolt and revolution that swept through the area resulted in changes of government in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya and a long civil war in Syria. The changes are not as dramatic as they once appeared. It seems that there is more to changing centuries of culture and government than a simple outcry and an attempt to impose Western-style democracy. The road to freedom will be long and rough.

I guess there is a little bit more that we know about Mohamed Bouazizi. We know that earlier in the day the he died local officials, claiming that he did not have a vendor’s license overturned his cart and confiscated his scales. Witnesses said they also slapped and spat on him. Bouazizi was the sole breadwinner for a family of eight and he simply did not have the cash to pay the usual bribe required in such situations. He went to the local police station to complain about the incident, but his complaints fell of deaf ears. The police offered no help in his situation.

His death has become a symbol in Tunisia and across the region. He has been hailed as a martyr. He has been uplifted as a rebel who was no longer willing to live under the harsh conditions that were imposed upon him by a repressive regime. I even heard the Patrick Henry quote mentioned in regard to Bouazizi, “Give me liberty or give me death!”

But we have no knowledge that Bouazizi was trying to make a political statement. We have no knowledge of his mental clarity or lack of it. We do not know how depressed he was, though the conditions might well have lead him to despair.

And we know little of the seven grieving survivors of his immediate family who were left not only with deep grief, but without the means to earn a living and feed themselves. Much has happened in the nearly three years since he died, but I know that the family is still burdened with grief and struggling to understand a loss that defies understanding.

We want to find meaning in every tragedy. We want every life to have a purpose. And we can only speculate on what might have happened had he not died on that day.

Every suicide leaves us with unanswered and unanswerable questions.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

The scale of the devastation left by Super Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines is so massive that it is difficult to just take it in. Officials estimate that 10,000 people have died in Tacloban city and elsewhere. The number of homeless people is in the hundreds of thousands. People are desperate for water and food and shelter. Rescue workers can’t get to those in need because of blocked roads and destroyed airports. More than 9 million people have been directly affected in the Philippines.

And the storm didn’t stop after ravaging the islands. The storm made landfall in North Vietnam, near the Chinese border as a tropical storm.

Six islands in the central Philippines bore the brunt of the storm. Buildings are flattened. In the coastal areas it wasn’t the wind that destroyed the buildings, but the water. The storm surge was as high as 45 feet in some places. Some cities, such as Baco, in Oriental Mindoro was 80% underwater. The city was home to 35,000 people.

You don’t have to go far to read about the devastation. I don’t think I can watch another video of a reporter walking through a field of rubble trying to describe the stench of human bodies without anyone to bury them, no one to attend to them.

The best prepared relief agencies, Church World Service and the Red Cross, are completely overwhelmed by the numbers of people who are in desperate need and the devastation that has made it nearly impossible to get goods from one place to another.

The road to recovery is going to be long and complex.

Our commitment to providing relief must be deeper than a special offering or a day of prayer.

It is important that we not fall into thinking that this is just another storm in a world filled with storms. What has happened is unique. "The world has not seen a storm like this before," said Senen Mangalile, the Philippines Consul General to the UK. The storm was the most intense and strongest storm of this type to make landfall.

American military aircraft and ships are being deployed to provide help. The Philippines military is going to need reinforcements just to prevent mob action with so many people in such desperate need. The ability to move gigantic amounts of cargo including food, water and medical supplies is going to be required to prevent a secondary wave of death as people run out of food.

So today, as we recognize our veterans and honor them with a holiday it is once again important to remind ourselves that there are many paths of service. The young sailors, airmen and soldiers who will land in the Philippines today are going to be faced with circumstances for which there is no adequate training. There aren’t any scenes in Army recruitment videos that look like what they are facing.

It is easy to see the contributions of our oldest veterans. World War II was a massive nation-wide effort that brought many into service who might not have otherwise become involved in the military. Many served for a few years and when the war was ended they came home and invested in their communities and provided leadership for all kinds of local organizations. The threat that the world felt from out-of-control despots was real. The response of the military was effective. The dictators fell and democracy was returned and extended to places that had suffered under brutal dictatorships.

It is often more difficult to give proper thanks and pay homage to those who served in less dramatic times and less glamorous settings. The wars in Korea and Vietnam didn’t have the same kind of solid endings that characterized the Second World War. Subsequent actions in the Persian Gulf, in Iraq and in Afghanistan have involved different kinds of service and sacrifice. The contributions of those who have served in these places are no less significant, their sacrifices no less real, than was the case with previous generations of veterans.

And there are many whose military service did not involve going to war. They have served by providing security around the world and helping with peacekeeping, which can be more challenging than going to war. As every police force in the world knows, teaching a recruit to properly discharge a weapon is a very small part of training. The more difficult job is teaching how to discern when to use a weapon and when to refrain from shooting.

Today is a good day to honor all veterans, not just those whose service was long ago in famous locations. This morning my plan is to split wood for a veteran who never saw combat. He has no dramatic war stories to tell. And right now being a native Texan, facing a South Dakota winter seems to be more challenging than were some of the things he encountered while serving in the military. He would figure out how to get his firewood split and ready for his stove without me, but that pile of cut of logs represents a lot of work and when you didn’t grow up feeding wood into a stove, getting it split can be intimidating. In months to come I can teach him the difference between an axe and a maul and show him how I split my own firewood by hand. But today we’ll just use a power splitter and in a half day we’ll have that pile of logs split and stacked and ready for a winter that might be long and cold.

This afternoon I’ll go to visit a veteran who is nearing the end of his life’s journey. Hospice of the Hills has a special ceremony for veterans and this particular man has a son who is also a veteran who will be in town visiting his father. They both know that they don’t have much time left and feel the value of the time that they do have. Both of them long ago faced the reality of their own mortality. They are not overcome with fear. Their feelings, however, are complex as they journey along the edges of grief.

“Happy Veterans Day” doesn’t seem like the appropriate greeting for this moment in history. So I wish you a day filled with meaning and a new dedication to service. For it is in serving others that we best honor those who have served.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

I have a friend and colleague who works exclusively as a minister to and with junior high and high school youth. I confess that there was a time when I thought that such a job would be pretty interesting. I had enjoyed my own time in youth group, I loved camp and outdoor ministries. I had done an internship as a youth minister in a large church and enjoyed the activities and the joys and trials of working with youth.

Of course several things have changed, not the least of which is the simple fact that I am older. Still, I enjoy youth ministries and I have been involved in some form of youth ministry for my entire career.

But when I look objectively at my friend’s ministry, I know that there are some things about my current job that I would deeply miss if I were to be called to a ministry like his. For one thing, he works with so many youth that almost all of his ministry is with groups - usually fairly large groups. He rarely has time for significant individual conversations with the youth. He understands how they act when they are participating in groups, but doesn’t know them at the family level. He rarely gets to know the individual hopes and dreams and intentions of the youth with whom he works. His is a ministry of programs and events. He is constantly planning events. He knows how to arrange food, transportation, and logistics. He knows about parental permission forms and permission to treat forms. He knows about insurance and how to change the syrup bottles in a Coke dispenser.

There is prayer and Bible study and worship in his work, to be sure, but for the most part, he is working at innovating and discovering new ways to do those things that engage the youth. His is a world of video projection, sound systems, Twitter, Facebook, text messages and social networking.

The other thing that would be a challenge for me and youth ministry these days is how quickly the youth pass through the programs. My colleague has a few youth that he sees for seven years. Most are involved in his program for four years or less.

One of the joys of the job that I have is the joy of watching young people become adults. I get to know them as they continue their journeys through college and beyond. I get to officiate at weddings of people who were once youth in my group. I get to baptize their children.

Having young adult friends is one of the blessings of my life. And I was reminded of that blessing last night when the young adults of our church gathered for a supper. They don’t need my input, but they are gracious and invite Susan and I to participate in many of their activities.

First of all, these are really neat people with fascinating and interesting lives. It is a joy just to listen to them talk about the things they are doing. They have fascinating hobbies and interests. They are a group as diverse as any other group in our church. They have different perspectives on politics, they have different likes and dislikes. They are touched by different kinds of music. Yet they enjoy being together in part because the other young adults have shared a journey of faith and church involvement with them.

They don’t do church the same way as their elders. But they definitely know how to be the church for each other.

Having said all of that, it is important that I not be making judgements about other ministries. I am well aware of how important a few months can be in a person’s life. A single contact can change everything. As disciples of Jesus we have to remember that his entire span of ministry was only about 3 years. He lived the love and grace of God in such a way that every generation that followed has been able to understand and contact that love and grace in ways that were previously impossible.

There is plenty of good ministry that is done in a specialized context. There are opportunities for genuine Christian community in groups that are constantly changing.

Furthermore, the coming and going of people that is inherent in specialized youth ministry is also a very real part of the ministry of the church. It is important to remember that although we think of ourselves as an established church, our membership profile has shifted radically. There was a time when the majority of the church had been members more than a decade and a third of the church had belonged for 40 years or more. This is no longer true. About half of our congregation have been members for less than a decade these days. People come and go at amazing rates. Some of our people participate in our church for a while, fall out of active participation and return. We have folks who have gone to other churches for a few years and then returned. We have folks who actively participate in multiple congregations. There are so many different patterns of church membership and participation that we are continually saying “hello” and “goodbye.”

Just like my colleague who works in a specialized youth ministry, I have had to learn to be an honest and genuine presence in the moment, to proclaim the gospel freely in the best way I can with the people who are present, to reach out in whatever ways I am able, to give God thanks that we are able to be a part of the spiritual journey for some people, and to pray Godspeed to those who are moving on to other phases of their faith journeys.

My friend’s work and mine are more similar than different. We are pilgrims on a similar journey and partners in a common ministry.

And along the way there are many moments like we shared last night - moments of seeing the grace of God and the presence of Christ in the face of the people we serve.

In God’s economy we always receive more than we give.

There has been a mystery washing up on the northwestern shores of Costa Rica all week. Actually what is washing up on the shores is not the mystery. What they have are dead sea turtles. There have been dozens, perhaps hundreds of dead sea turtles washing up on the shore. The mystery is what killed the turtles. The turtles are Eastern Pacific Green Sea Turtles. This is important, for the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica is famous as the nesting grounds of a different species of sea turtle - the Olive Ridley turtle. So far, however, all but one of the turtles examined by biologists have been the less common Eastern Pacific Green Sea Turtle. Eastern Pacific Green Sea Turtles are considered to be an endangered species.

One early theory is that the turtles had been killed by longline fishermen. A sudden influx of mahi mahi to the Pacific coast has increased the number of longline fishermen currently operating in Costa Rican waters. But the turtles lack any signs of physical damage. Longline fishing leaves hooks in the turtles that would be easily seen.

Another theory that has been discounted is that radiation leaked from the Japanese Fukishima disaster could be to blame. Experts, however, have stated that it would take at least five years from radiation to spread across the Pacific to the Western hemisphere, meaning that marine animals would not be affected until 2016.

Many of the turtles have been sent to laboratories for analysis. The possibility of chemical toxins has not been ruled out, but scientists aren’t sure what kind of toxins would affect only Eastern Pacific Green Sea Turtles.

Roberto Umaña, head of the Costa Rican Fisheries Institute, thinks that dynamite fishing might be the cause. Dynamite fishing is banned in Costa Rican waters, but local fishermen have reported that Nicaraguan fishermen have been using the practice near Costa Rica’s northern Pacific coast. In an article in the Tico Times,Umaña said that “there were turtles found swimming circles in the water. I don’t know how a bombing would affect a turtle, but confusion like that seems to make sense.”

But if the cause were dynamite fishing, one would expect to see Olive Ridley turtles affected as well.

For now the mystery remains. Scientists are looking to see if chemical or natural causes could explain what is going on.

Costa Rica is especially aware of its incredible biological diversity and its role in preserving many creatures that are unique to its climate and location. Before the 1980’s the Golden Toad was almost a symbol of the country. Thousands of the beautiful amphibians lived in the Monteverde Cloud Forest. 1987, however was an unusually warm and dry year and the population was nearly wiped out. No Golden Toads have been observed since 1989 and it is believed that the species is extinct.

Biologists haven’t totally given up hope, however. The “Halloween” frog, sometimes also called the “Clown” frog was once declared to be extinct, but it was rediscovered in 2005. Other amphibians including the Holdrige’s toad, red-eyed stream frog, and the green-eyed frog, all thought at one time to be extinct, have been rediscovered. One recently rediscovered frog, Isthmohyla rivularis, is so rare that it doesn’t even have a common name.

Scientists believe that after conditions at the end of the 20th century threatened nearly 90 percent of rainforest frog species with extinction, the creatures may now be on the increase once again.

The bottom line is that even with all of the scientific knowledge and studies that have been completed, there is much that we do not understand about the lives of the creatures of this world. It seems probable that life on this planet is a bit more resilient than we had thought.

This is not to say that we shouldn’t be careful about our impact on the environment. Life is fragile. Death comes all to easily. Once a species is genuinely extinct, it is gone forever. There is no doubt that humans of the 20th and 21st century have an enormous impact on other species. We have developed lifestyles that consume more than our fair share of the earth’s resources and the decisions we make about our lives has a deep impact on other creatures.

We have much to learn about other creatures with whom we share this planet. Many of our discoveries about these creatures illustrate how closely linked we are. Saving species from extinction is not just a matter of having more creatures for us to observe. Biological diversity is of critical importance for human health and well being. With each species that is lost, we also lose information about the nature of life and death, disease and its treatment. In some cases along with the plants and animals that are lost sources of medicines to treat human ailments are also lost.

So the work of the biologists in Costa Rica continues to hold my interest and inspire hope. Costa Rica is a very small country, about half the size of the state of South Dakota. Yet it is home to amazing biological diversity. And the people of Costa Rica have become aware of the need to preserve the natural beauty and biological diversity of their tiny country. They have set aside large amounts of land as nature preserves. They have engaged scientists from around the world in the study of the plants and animals of their country. They have enlisted experts to assist in preserving the rich biological heritage of their country.

I’m sure it is heartbreaking for scientists to watch the arrival of the dead sea turtles, but they are on the site to study and learn what they can about the phenomenon. Meanwhile, up north, I read about their work and am grateful for their contributions to our common understanding. Sometimes I contribute to the problems in other countries by decisions I make about what to eat or wear. I drink coffee that comes from Costa Rica, My decisions affect people and creatures that are far away from my home.

Once again we are reminded that we are all in this together. May we learn from our mistakes and continue to understand that all life is a gift of God worthy of our careful stewardship.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

When we moved to Chicago back in the seventies, some people in Montana asked if we were scared. I suppose I was a little bit, at least the first night driving into the city alone in a borrowed pickup truck, getting lost and having to exit the freeway and turn around in a dark and very unfamiliar neighborhood. But the experience of living in Chicago wasn’t frightening for us. We had to learn to adjust to some parts of city living like locking the car and all of the locks on buildings, but we were never personally threatened. The neighborhood where we lived had two large and active police forces: the Chicago Police Department and the University of Chicago Police. Almost everything we did in those days we did in groups of students and short walks like the trip to the library were very safe on well lit streets. The alley behind our apartment building had four street lights every block, which is considerably more than most city streets.

But it would not be true to say that Chicago is a safe place for all of its residents. Increasingly, the city is making headlines as a very dangerous place, especially for teens and children. This morning Chicago police wake up to the daunting task of continuing investigations into shootings in which at least seven people were wounded last night. Three men were shot to death. A six-year-old is in the hospital in critical condition with gunshot wounds in his shoulder, and chest. The boy wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was riding in the back seat of a car with his seven year old brother, heading home from a regular tutoring session. The car was driven by his nineteen year old brother. Another teen was with them in the front seat. The two older boys exchanged words with two pedestrians at an intersection. The pedestrians threw bottles at the car, which began to drive away. The six year old was wounded by shots fired through the back window of the car.

It is part of an epidemic of gun violence in the city with no obvious solution in sight.

For most of our career, we have worked hard at making sure that the church provides a safe place for children and teens. When we first began to institute safe church policies some people wondered if they were really necessary. They wanted to be able to assume that the church was safe without going into the process of criminal background checks and requirements that adults working with children and teens be closely supervised. But we persisted and after decades of reports about abuses of power and predatory violence by adults working with children in churches, it seems like the caution was important.

Last night we had a discussion of sanctuary with the youth in the church. We talked about what was required in order for the church to provide a safe place for them. They were quick to point out that it needed to be a place of acceptance and support, that they needed a place that was free from bullying and intimidation, and that the church should not allow weapons in worship. But not everyone agreed about things like the use of cell phones. The teens acknowledged that social media could be used to intimidate and bully and that text messages could be harsh and threatening, but they were uncertain about what role the church should play in addressing these issues.

One youth said that one of the gifts of school was that the ban on cell phone use gave her a break from the device. Another said that it made her feel less safe because she couldn’t stay in constant contact with the people she loved and who were her support system. All of the teens had had cell phones since they started middle school and one has had a phone since the fourth grade. All said that having a cell phone made them feel more safe and that safety was the reason that their parents had supported their use of cell phones. The majority of the teens turn off their cell phones only during the required hours of school. All but one of the teens in our informal small group poll leave their cell phones on all night long. The majority have looked at Facebook posts and responded to texts in the middle of the night.

We talked not only about sanctuary as sacred space, but also as sacred time. We agreed that there are times when it is not appropriate to be focusing on mobile devices. Worship was seen as one of those times. We spent a few minutes in silence in our church’s sanctuary as well as sharing a prayer time in the youth room. The youth were respectful with their devices during those times. We talked about other times when they might set aside their phones. There was disagreement about whether or not phones should be banned during mealtimes. Some youth thought that while they shouldn’t be talking or initiating calls during meals, reading texts or Facebook posts wasn’t rude or disruptive.

It is clear to me that in some ways it is easier to provide for the physical safety of children and youth than it is to provide for their emotional safety in this complex world. I’m not saying we can make the world completely safe for our youth. They travel to and from the church in private cars. When they become old enough they drive themselves. Although we have been fortunate with accidents, we know they can happen to teens and that the world can change in a few seconds. A teen who was seriously injured in a fiery crash earlier this fall is a close friend of one of the youth in our group and has been on our youth prayer chain since the accident. One member of the group lost an uncle who was the father of 10 and 15 year old cousins recently. We live in a dangerous world and we can’t always shield this we love from risk.

But it is important to keep talking about sanctuary and safe places with our teens as the world changes and new threats appear.

We no longer have squires at the entrance to the church to hold the weapons while the knights go in to worship. If the teens in our group are an indication, it doesn’t seem like we will be having designated cell phone “squires” to keep the digital devices during worship anytime soon.

Copyright © 2012 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I didn’t go to the lake a single time during the month of October. We had the blizzard on the first weekend and between cleaning up from the blizzard, taking a week’s vacation and a few other adventures, I simply didn't go. It is a bit harder to go to the lake in the fall and winter because the days are short. When the sunrise is so late, I need to be at work. I haven’t gotten into paddling in the dark, though it might be an interesting adventure.

But I finally made it to the lake yesterday. Paddling in November doesn’t take too many precautions. Because there are very few people at the lake, I need to have a solid plan for self-rescue should anything go wrong. The first part of that is to wear a dry suit. Should I take the plunge into the cold water, the cold would get to me in as little as five minutes or less. My dry suit is warm and because it is designed to keep me warm and dry, it doesn’t breathe. So it is always a bit of a balance in the sun. I can open up the neck on the jacket, but it was chilly yesterday and I paddled with a full suit, including warm booties and gloves. If I were to fall into the lake the only part of me that would be wet would be my head. And I was wearing a woolen stocking cap. Wool is good because it still has good insulating capabilities when wet.

The mood at the lake has changed and some of the change is for the better in my opinion. There’s no other people around, so the sounds are the sounds of the wind, the trees and the animals. And a lot of those creatures have left for the season as well. The geese, normally the lake’s loudest folk, were gone, headed south most likely. There were sill a few ducks left, but they weren’t much into making a racket.

The lake looks a bit different because of the storm. There are a dozen or more trees that have fallen into the lake, mostly uprooted. A few of them are really big trees and extend out into the water quite a ways. In previous years, the forest service has let some of those trees rest where they have fallen and little by little they deteriorate and become a part of the mud at the bottom of the lake. It takes several years for a big tree. I don’t know what will happen to these trees, but I hope a few of them stay. They will provide a place for fishermen to sit for a few years. They provide good perches for the Great Blue Herons, eagles and osprey who like to fish in the lake as well. And they make the paddling a bit easier.

The prevailing winds have come for the winter season, which means that when I launch from the north shore, the only way to go is downwind. That isn’t a problem as long as I remember that it will take me longer to return than it does to depart. The sun was bright and reflecting from the lake as I launched. I headed across the lake to a little inlet where the young beaver has been hanging out since August. I wanted to see if he had abandoned that territory or was hunkering down for winter. I was pleased to see that he has made a fine new lodge for himself. It is a significant construction, so I’m hopeful that he may have found a partner to spend the winter with him. He has chosen one of the first places on the lake to freeze up. Of course freeze is not problem for the beaver who is accomplished both under and on top of the ice. But if he was successful in finding a mate, I may be able to see the pups before the hoards of campers arrive next summer.

I sometimes think of the beaver as grumpy because he doesn’t particularly like to share his end of the lake with me. He’s always slapping his tail and warning me to keep away. But beavers are really social animals and though they may not enjoy my company, they like being with each other.

The heron, on the other hand really is a loner. He hangs around other herons only during the mating and nesting season. So it was fun to see a heron perched on top of the new beaver lodge sort of like he had dropped by for the housewarming party and was reluctant to leave. The fishing must still be pretty good at the lake to keep the heron around.

I didn’t have much agenda to my paddling. I was mostly enjoying being outside, stretching my muscles and messing about in my boat. My kayak is warm and I was comfortable as I paused to take a few pictures and feel the sun as it reflected off of the water. I was hoping to see the beaver, but he wasn’t in a mood to surface and give me a glimpse, so after a while I paddled away. I toured around the edge of the lake looking at the fallen trees on shore and the way the water reflects an image of the shoreline. With the wind, the tree trunks that rise straight upward look like they are reaching down in wavy lines as if their trunks were twisted in the reflection.

I paddled slowly but deliberately on my way back into the wind. My little boat tracks easily even in a quartering headwind and it didn’t take long to get back to the shore. I was loaded up and headed for home in a little more than an hour after I arrived at the lake.

I’m sorry I missed October paddling. Most months have open days when I could paddle, though the lake will likely freeze over come January or February. As long as the water is liquid I can safely paddle.

There is always something new to discover.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

Well, after saving through most of the spring, all of the summer and into the fall, we finally have made our withdrawal from Daylight Savings Time. And, once again, we haven’t gotten one bit of interest - not one second. The hour that we put in last spring was withdrawn at the same amount. It sort of makes you wonder why we bother with saving when we can’t earn any interest.

That is a joke that I have made at this time of year for several years. It wouldn’t surprise me if you have read it in my blog.

The transition from Daylight Savings Time has gone well for us. We have just a few clocks to set in our home. The computers and cell phones set themselves automatically. We have one clock that we have never figured out how to set, so we change the time zone on that clock for Daylight Savings Time. Now we can go back to our own time zone on the clock, not that it matters or that anyone notices.

I heard that there are so many clocks and watches at The Clock Shop in downtown Rapid City that they start setting clocks a week early and it takes the whole week to get all of the clocks set. They have several antique clocks there. I’m sure that there are plenty of clocks that cannot be moved backward. So to “fall back” you have to move the clock ahead 11 hours. We have one clock in the church that is a mechanical 7-day clock. The clock controls the ringing of our bell. It cannot be turned back. So, rather than turn it six days and 23 hours ahead, I stop it by tripping the breaker in the basement. Then an hour later, I re-start the clock and adjust the time. Not much work, really.

Since I have my old joke, the change to or from Daylight Savings Time gets me to thinking about the practice of paying and earning interest. Since the financial crisis of 2008, interest rates have remained very low in the United States. It is hard to earn much interest at all on invested money. CD rates remain below 2%, which means that money invested in a CD probably loses a bit of purchasing power over time.

There is still plenty of money to be made by charging interest, however, Banks basically operate on a margin. They lend money at a higher interest rate than they pay on savings. The difference is their profit. There is nothing wrong with profit. However, our economic system in the United States is based on a system of credit ratings that generally result in credit being available only to middle and upper class residents. Those with less income tend to be seen as less credit worthy. The result is that there is a non-bank system of lenders from pawn shops, payday lenders and title loan companies that in general charge very high rates of interest. Those who can least afford to pay interest end up paying the most. Those who can afford generally don’t have to pay much interest.

The system runs contrary to Biblical principles.

The Bible is very clear in its prohibitions agains charging interest from poor people.

But I have heard plenty of folks who say that the economy simply wouldn’t work without interest. And there is a common belief that the price of credit is a simple product of the market. The risks associated with lending money to poor people are higher and therefore the cost needs to be higher.

Then there are the “bait and switch” schemes that are a part of the money lending business. There is a local business that routinely advertises, “no money down, no interest if paid in full by the deadline.” It sounds like a good deal. But if you read the fine print on the contract, which people rarely do, you will find out that if the loan isn’t paid in full by the deadline, the interest applies to the full amount, not just to the unpaid balance. By the terms of the contract, a borrower could borrow a thousand dollars, pay back $999 by the deadline and end up owing 21% interest on the full $1,000.

However, it is possible for an economy to operate without interest. Just like Daylight Savings time where an hour in is an hour out, a cash economy can operate with everything having a face value. Back in the 1960’s Koinonia Farm operated without interest. From that venture, Habitat for Humanity was formed. Habitat for Humanity operates without interest. They don’t borrow, so there is no interest paid and they don’t charge interest, so homeowners pay only the actual cost of their home. Habitat for Humanity also doesn’t make a profit.

Skeptics said that it wouldn't work. You can’t operate with no interest and no profit. But Habitat for Humanity works just fine even in the midst of a dominant economy where interest is charged and profits are made. Habitat for Humanity is one of the largest mortgage lenders in the world. And Habitat for Humanity weathered the mortgage crisis without a crisis. Their borrowers weren’t over extended. The default rate for Habitat for Humanity mortgages is very low because care is taken to keep costs low and match them to both the needs of the homeowners and their ability to pay.

An economy without interest bases value on services rendered and work performed instead of artificial markets. It is simple, direct, and less prone to the dramatic fluctuations which are generally a part of the market.

Money itself is simply an idea that people agree to treat as if it were a real commodity. Our common agreement gives money its value. There is nothing inherent in the nature of money that says it has to multiply or somehow become worth more just because it is not spent. An economy that expects people to be paid simply for having money works to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. There are alternatives to the way that we do things.

I don’t expect the economy to suddenly be transformed. But perhaps if we think about money as we think about time we might make different decisions. After all both are things of which we have a limited quantity.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

I am not a fan of group e-mails. I prefer to use e-mail to communicate directly with an individual. Still, the technology is useful. We use group e-mail lists to let people know what is going on in the church and to distribute our monthly newsletter. I send group e-mails to members of the church staff and to the Pennington County Sheriff’s Chaplains.

What I don’t do much is forward e-mails that I have received from others. I have a couple of friends who send e-mails that they have received out to everyone on their e-mail list. The e-mails may occasionally be interesting or cute, but it really isn’t the best way to communicate.

My blog probably isn’t the best way to send out a YouTube Video. But there is a video that I think is amazing. Before you watch it, you should know that it is an advertisement for a Sony television. I don’t own a Sony television and have no intention of purchasing one. I have no reason to promote Sony’s products. But I have watched this video several times and recommend it.


Now, here’s some interesting information about the video:

There are no computer generated effects in the video. It was actually shot live. Those who are familiar with the territory might recognize Costa Rica in the pictures. That’s how I discovered the video in the first place. I like to read the news of Costa Rica and the Tico Times had an article mentioning the video.

You may have seen a video shot by Sony in which they released 300,000 bouncy balls in San Francisco. For this shot, they placed 8 million flower pedals in Costa Rica’s Irazú Volcano National Park. Then they used a series of ultra high definition cameras to capture images of the pedals being blown from the volcano and raining down on the surrounding community.

The cost of shooting the video in Costa Rica was apparently small for the Sony corporation. They paid $300, the standard fee for using the National Park and later donated a washing machine to park officials.

OK, so the pedals weren’t really erupted from the volcano. They would have been immediately vaporized by molten lava. Instead a crew created special effects. The pedals were not placed in the active part of the volcano. Instead 3.5 tons of flower pedals were distributed on a 35 x 35 meter cloth to simulate the effect of a volcanic crater lake. Then giant fans, air cannons and other special effects equipment were used to blow the pedals down the mountain and through the city streets.

All of the pedals used were biodegradable. Park officials reported that the Sony production team “left the park exactly like it was before. They picked up everything.”

There is also a behind-the-scenes video that shows a bit of how they produced the effects.



I enjoyed watching the videos and know that some of my readers have come to have a special place for Costa Rica in their hearts.

Instead of flower pedals, there were more branches blowing about our town yesterday. Wind gusts of 55 mph blew through town and there were several branches that had been broken in the October blizzard that finally came down and blew around. In addition, not all of the branches from the blizzard have been picked up, so some of the piles were rearranged by the wind.

We had a brief moment of excitement at the church yesterday. One of our janitors came in and reported that one of our trailers was out in the street. I went out to check and sure enough a trailer had blown from its usual parking place out into the street. I wouldn’t have thought that the trailer would go anywhere as the lot is relatively flat the the trailer was parked with the tongue on the ground. Instead of digging in, however, the tongue just slid across the parking lot as the trailer pushed it.

Fortunately, the path taken by the trailer avoided all of the cars parked in the lot, which was fortunate, as the lot was full with parents picking up children from preschool. The trailer came to rest with one wheel in the street and the other on the lot, so it wasn’t blocking the street or even access to the parking lot. It was easily returned to the lot and this time we placed bricks under the tires to keep it from traveling on its own.
By the time I left the church in the afternoon the winds had died down and the trailer was still parked where we wanted it. It wasn’t all that dramatic, but provided a few interesting moments and a spot of exercise as I pushed it by hand back into its parking place.

They weren’t so lucky at the Colonial House, a popular restaurant in our town. A driver lost control of her car in the parking lot and ran into the building causing thousands of dollars of damage. Fortunately no one was close to the wall that was hit and there were no injuries. Still, the sound of the breaking windows and crumpling wall must have been rather dramatic for those who were in the restaurant at the time.

The 82-year-old driver was a regular customer of the restaurant. Accidents happen and this one was pretty fortunate as no one was injured. Damage to the restaurant can be repaired and they will be able to remain open while the remodeling is completed. Still, both the driver and the people who were in the restaurant will have a story to tell for years to come.

All in all, we had an interesting day in our town yesterday. But it wasn’t the same as 3.5 tons of flower pedals. It kind of makes you wonder what Sony will think of next. After bouncy balls and flower pedals, there are lots of possibilities.

I’m thinking Mt. Rushmore would be a neat place for them to make a video.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. There is a bit of a different look to the blog, and all of my website today. I have just migrated to a new computer and somehow I didn’t take all of the plug-ins for my website authoring program with me. I’ll get it figured out before long and probably will end up with a new look along the way. For now it is functional and I am able to publish my blog from my new computer.

In the past, I have used a notebook computer that belongs to the church under an agreement with the church. However, I have decided that it is time to have two different machines: one for work and one for my personal use. So, instead of using the migration assistant to move everything from the old computer to the new one, I am going through the old computer file by file, sifting and sorting. It isn’t a lot different from cleaning out an office that I have occupied for a long time. There are things that belong to the church and things that belong to me and they need to be untangled. And, since I’m a bit of a collector, there are a lot of things that just need to be trashed. I’m giving the old computer a good cleaning out while I am at it. It should improve its performance and longevity for church use now that I’m dong the blog and other personal business on the new computer.

The new computer has the advantage of being smaller, more portable, and lighter than the old machine and it has a much longer battery life, allowing me to take it with me where I want and to publish my blog from any place that I like. I am looking forward to being ably to use it outdoors when the weather improves and to sit where I like as I do my work.

So, I apologize for the somewhat rough appearance of the web site. I’ll have things back up to speed soon.

It probably won’t be long before the personal computer is a thing of the past. The great portability and functionality of tablets, smartphones and other devices means that already fewer people are turning to notebook and desktop computers to do their work. But I still like the combination of functionality and portability afforded by a notebook computer. So far we haven’t gotten a tablet computer. My smart phone, however, has a much faster processor, more memory and even more storage than did the laptop that I was using a decade ago. In terms of raw computing power, it is a marvel.
I remember buying a pocket transistor radio with money I had saved from my newspaper route when I was a kid. It was an AM-FM model, even though we had no FM stations that we could receive in our town. If I remember accurately it had 9 transistors. The radio was sold as a pocket radio, but it was a bit too big to fit into my pockets. The processor in my cell phone has the equivalent of 1 billion transistors. The phone easily slides into my pocket.

I’ve written many times about the struggle of looking for balance in a rapidly changing world. On the one hand, one wants to keep up. The world is changing and it demands change from us as well. On the other hand, the rapid pace of change produces much that doesn’t last. I find that with devices such as phones and computers there is no need to keep up with every new model. You can skip several generations before making the change. I no longer worry whether or not my devices are state of the art. The question is not whether they are the latest and best, but whether they can do the work that I need them to do. The best technology isn’t always the latest technology.

One example is a simple notepad. My cell phone has a notepad that automatically synchronizes with my computer. By using cloud technology, I can have access to those notes from any of my devices. I could pull out my phone and make notes on it for all of the things that I need. I do use that application and know how to make it work. However I find myself in situations where the use of any device such as a phone or tablet is simply inappropriate. When I visit a family in the hospital or in their home the use of my devices can be distracting and out of place. It seems as if I am not paying attention to the matters at hand. I realize that feeling is a bit generational. Youth often don’t feel the same problem with their electronic devices. So I still carry a small note pad and a pen in my pocket. If there is something important I need to remember, I can pull out the pad and write a note. The technology of a pad and pen is ancient. but it remains appropriate technology for my use.

I use the calendar function on my phone and computer, but I know others who use paper calendars. They work fine. They may not be stat-of-the-art, but they are appropriate technology for many uses.

Not every item that is useful needs to light up, have an off and on switch, be powered by electricity, and wear out quickly. Sometimes the old technologies are just fine for our use.

And there are some technologies that are combinations of old and new designs. Virtually every canoe that is available is a shape that has been around for centuries. There really aren’t any improvements in shape that need to be made with canoes. Modern canoes use new materials that can make them more durable and lightweight, but the classic shapes remain the best. One of my favorite canoes is 50 years old and if it is properly maintained there is no reason why it won’t last another century or more.

So I continue to seek balance of old and new. And for now, my brand-new notebook computer has the keys in the same order as did my portable Olympia manual typewriter that got two of us through college and graduate school before we knew we might one day feel we needed a computer.

The typewriter, by the way, still works fine.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.