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Monday, September 18, 2006

Blind Calls

Well, the Oregon-OU game taught us many things, in the least, that life is not always fair. But I noticed an interesting trend.

As of 9:30 this morning, there were about 70 Facebook groups devoted to the OU-Oregon game. In those 70 groups, there were about 6,500 people (and growing). The groups ranged in composition---some were ref-based, some Pak-10 based, and many others were just sprinkled liberally with expletives.

One group in particular had close to 2,000 names. It was a petition to get the game's win over-thrown. Although that is unlikely, the thought behind that group and the 70-some-old others made me take notice.

The common link behind each of the groups was
passion. Passion drives us to take action. We are passionate about the injustice, about the loss, about the unfairness of it all. SO passionate, we find out the email, phone, and address of those who are in charge. We form like-minded groups...we petition...we contact...we pursue justice.

The sad part of all of this is that it is about FOOTBALL. Now, don't get me wrong. I am a HUGE OU fan. I
am mad about Saturday's loss. I think we did get robbed, and it was 100% unfair. It stinks!

Given that, though, it kind of makes me sad to think we can get over 7,000+ people to be so passionate
ONE football game and yet these same people ignore other injustices each and very day. Are you more passionate about the injustice of a call in a football game, or are you more passionate about reaching the lost?

Which motivates you into action--a bad call on the field, or an abortion of an child?
What issues invoke intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction in your life?

I am saddened that I can more easily get passionate about an injustice in football than about people going to hell. I'm disappointed that I'm more likely to sign a petition to get a football game score overthrown than I am to save an unborn child.

Hmm. Yes, the Pak-10 Refs were blind this week, but I think I am just as blind. I am just as guilty of allowing bad calls to stand even in the light of Proof.

Monday, September 11, 2006


Well, it's been five years now.

Today I was thinking about where I was on September 11 when I heard about the world trade center crashes. I was not yet working at the BSU yet, but rather, Boise Cascade Office Products. I was on the team on the far corner of the building, which I loved. It was quieter and more private over there. So much so, the guy in the cubicle in front of me would listen to his radio during work. He heard it announced on the radio, and at that time we didn't know it was on purpose. It seemed like an accident.....until the second plane.

Before long most of the several-hundred person office was in the break room watching the TVs. After about an hour, we were actually sent home from work.....I have never heard of that thing happening before. I guess they figured we wouldn't work much with this going on. Plus, we were a national company and it affected the company everywhere--even Norman, Oklahoma. And I watched TV, like the rest of the world, for the rest of the day and days to follow.

That day reminded me so much of the OKC bombing in the shock of watching history unfold in front of your eyes. It's like the Kennedy assassination, too, I guess. They say everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing on that day too.

We never know when a normal day will turn into a historical day. We never know when we might be touched by acts of violence like this. We never know when our time here on earth is over. We never know.

Monday, September 4, 2006

Sweet Dreams

This quote was at the beginning of a book I read over the weekend. Although the book was pretty lame, this quote stood out to me.

"The division of one day from the next must be one of the most profound peculiarities of life on this plant. It is, on the whole, a merciful arrangement. We are not condemned to sustained flights of being, but are constantly refreshed by little holidays from ourselves. We are intermittent creatures, always falling to little ends and rising to little new beginnings. Our soon-tired consciousness is meted out in chapters, and that the world will look quite different tomorrow is, for both our comfort and our discomfort, usually true. How marvelously too night matches sleep, sweet images of it, so neatly apportioned to our need. Angles must wonder at these things being who fall so regularly out of awareness into phantasm-invested dark. How our frail identities survive these chasms no philosopher has ever been able to explain." --Iris Murdoch