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Mink Again...

10/24/2011

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The text read something like, “Well, the mink got out.  Will find when I get home from work.  Just don’t open the garage bay door.”  For those of you unfamiliar with minks, they are related to weasels, otters and ferrets, and prior to PETA, were quite popular in the form of a coat.

The back story is that my son somehow managed to find one trapped in a storage building at his place of work, and being the lover of animals he is, he felt it best if he bring it home to observe for a few days and then figure out how to secure its future welfare.  A suitable habitat was created and, it was thought, the cute little critter was secured.  At least until it somehow became un-secured, and now my garage, which was already packed to the brim with everything from family Christmas decorations to the items my son and his new bride had brought with them in the move from Idaho to Oregon, was this little weasel’s (pun intended) playground.

After much fruitless searching, I was left wondering if perchance, our furry friend had somehow managed to scale the shelving along the wall and make it up into the crawl space above the garage and perhaps from there into the attic space over the rest of the home.  Visions of insulation-turned-mink-condominium combined with pest-control and insulation bills began swirling through my mind.

At one point, as I found myself creeping through a darkened garage, welding-gloved-hands holding a flashlight in hopes of picking up the reflection in my mammalian houseguest’s eyes, I actually opened the garage doors simply hoping Mr. Mink would catch a whiff of freedom in the night air and high-tail it out of my life.  But then I remembered my son’s caution that our two cats, Zoe and Sassy, might make a tempting treat on the mink’s menu, and quickly reversed course.

In fact, I resolved to give up the search and stop stressing over what “might” happen.  I put the mink out of my mind and moved on with my week.

Meanwhile, my son performed daily, searches of the garage.  He even searched underneath the entire house.  One day passed, then another.  I believe it was on the third day that my wife and daughter made their way to the empty drum that had been the mink’s home.  Leaning over to peer inside, and yet not in the least-wise expecting to find anything, my wife got quite a start when our wayward weasel popped up to meet her gaze!

And so, after late night search parties, daily excursions, and a fair amount of stress, the mink simply meandered his way back “home.”  Crisis averted. I think.  We most likely will find his little paw-prints (and certainly some other surprises) in cartons and crannies for years to come.


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Meandering Through an Autumn Day

10/20/2011

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The day began like a typical autumn morning in the Willamette Valley: cool moist air, gray dreary skies. Under cover of dark, I skittered off to the Silverton Kiwanis meeting at O’Brien’s Café for my formal induction into the club.  Meanwhile, the rising sun cast a silver-sable canvas over our quaint community as I made my way up the hill to Silverton Hospital to support a family facing surgery.  After we had laughed and prayed together, I hurried back down the hill to rendezvous with a few friends for a “grown-up field trip” to nearby Bauman Farms.  The plan was to carpool/caravan our way there, tour the grounds, and test out the gift shop then enjoy a picnic lunch. The morning sky suggested rain; however, we pulled away from our rendezvous-point as the overhead canopy parted before a brilliant blue sky – as if fall was giving way to spring.

We made our way to our destination drinking in the sunshine and each other’s company.  There is nothing like connecting with folks whose hearts are alive with a love for God and other people to safeguard your soul from seasons of decline.  Not that anything unique took place.  We simply spent time together – laughing, conversing, praying, eating – simple parts of the profound gift called community.

By late afternoon, the canopy had closed its curtain again. Silver-sable splashed a slight spray – a sign of the Season’s inexorable grind.  A reminder that no matter the season, blue, gray, or somewhere in between, sharing life together is a gift.

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Cobwebs, Coffee, and Community

10/10/2011

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There is nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day – especially on Mondays!  This morning, a handful of friends and I pooled a few dollars, purchased a few gift cards, and surprised a few customers at the Silverton Starbucks with a free cup of coffee or two.  It was a grind, at first, as the
 “0-Dark-Thirty” cobwebs cleared, but once those first set of eyes lit up at the realization that their coffee order was being filled “free of charge,” the blessing of being a blessing in the slightest way, made the early rise and small financial sacrifice worth it.  Most of those eyes were first acquaintances; some were old friends like Bretny, a childhood friend of our now College-Freshman-daughter, Kaitlyn.  Bretny was on her way to class at nearby Chemeketa Community College.  Thinking of her slipping out of Safeway, coffee in hand, on her way to class, somehow brings me closer to my own college student, and I find myself praying someone in Nampa, Idaho, might offer a similar kind gesture along the way she travels. One set of eyes belonged to a young mom whose husband was off to his first day of work in five months.  Having to get up early to help him get ready for work and drop the kids off at school was something to be celebrated, and we were given the privilege of sharing the moment, ever so briefly, as we sent her off into the murky, but more hopeful, Willamette Valley morning.  The last set of eyes summed our morning up best.  They belonged to a mom who had lost her daughter of fourteen years to cerebral palsy just two years ago.  We connected with her because of one kind gesture, and she gifted us with a brief glimpse into her story expressing her gratitude through the grandest of human gestures – a hug for my wife, Heather.  Smile after smile, our little band connected with people – life’s most precious resource – for a couple of hours on a Monday morning that, honestly, was one of the best Monday mornings I’ve experienced in a long time.
 ~ Dom

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Stepping Forward in the Face of Fear

10/2/2011

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I had the privilege of spending and hour or so with a truly unique group of people today.  They came from all walks of life – retirees, blue collar workers, medical professionals, high school students, young, old, high income, low income, no income they came – over twenty strong  with one purpose in mind: to dedicate themselves to travelling to Suriname, South America, at their own expense and to raising $15,000.00 to pay for the materials they will need to help a community make much needed repairs and improvements to their place of worship and center for service to the community and the home of the family that serves and shepherds them.

It reminded me of a moment in the movie, Pearl Harbor.  When Lt. Colonel James Doolittle is observing Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett’s characters, and the other brave men who volunteered to try and do the impossible: Successfully launch bombers from the deck of the aircraft carrier, USS Hornet, make the flight to Japan without enemy detection, and execute a bombing raid on Tokyo itself.

Against the back-drop of their bravery, under the shadow of perhaps the greatest military tragedy our nation had ever faced, staring into the face of the towering threat of Imperial Japan, and undoubtedly awash in the temptation to doubt, Doolittle experienced something on the deck that day that gave him hope: “We’re going to win this war, Jack. And you know why?” he asked his fellow officer.  “Because of them [the bomber pilots]. Because they’re rare.  Because at times like these you see them – stepping forward. There’s nothing greater than the heart of a volunteer.”

Doolittle’s Raiders weren’t going to singlehandedly win the war.  Militarily, the impact of their effort was infinitesimal.  Spiritually, however, they put into action, the faith of then president, Franklin D. Roosevelt: “No matter how long it may take us to overcome this pre-meditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.”

Today, under the shadow of another terrible tragedy, staring into the towering threat of economic uncertainty, tempted to doubt, I watched a new crop of volunteers step forward and found my own faith lifted by the greatness of their hearts.

“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”


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    Welcome to Daily Grinds
    I chose “Daily Grinds” for a name because everyone has them. For some they show up at the workplace, for others it is on the freeway, maybe at school. “The Grind” comes to us all at some point, and in some ways at every point in our lives. Of course, these grinds aren’t always bitter and burdensome. Sometimes the daily grinds are evidence of the most positive moments in our lives – the satisfaction of a difficult job well done, confidence hammered out on the anvil of much preparation. And sometimes, quite unexpectedly, "the grind" gifts us with moments of grace – some monumental like the birth of a child, others more mundane, like a great cup of coffee and some casual conversation with a good friend. In fact, I came across a website for a coffee company in New York called, The Daily Grind, that confirmed my inspiration.  Perhaps sifting through the “grounds” of my day-to-day will give you a glimpse into your own Daily Grind.

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    About Dom

    Just your average guy (ok - a little below average in the height department!) that is trying to make my way in this world.  I have been the pastor of SCN since 1998 and just celebrated 22 years of marriage to my wife, Heather, (obviously way above average in the wife department!) on September 2nd.  Aside from sardines and anchovies, there isn't much I don't enjoy in life.

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