I hate getting pulled over. It happens sometimes, but I certainly am not a fan. Ince, I was heading to lunch south of where I worked and an officer saw me without my seatbelt on. The moment I saw him I put it on. He followed me for a few blocks, flashed his lights, and pulled me over.

He came up to the car and asked me if I knew why I was being stopped and asked for my license and registration. I had my seatbelt on when he got up to the car. He did a double take, looked at it and then told me that when I had passed him I was not wearing it.

In this moment I had a choice to make: Do I admit that I had done wrong? Or do I a make a case that I had it on now? Fortunately I took the responsible route and owned up for what I had done. I knew I was supposed to have it on.

He went back to his car to do whatever it is that police officers do and it gave me a few minutes to think. The public has a skewed picture of most police officers. The man who was writing me a ticket was professional, courteous, and kind. He was doing the job that he had been entrusted with, keeping the public safe…even keeping me safe by making me comply with the seatbelt law. He came back to the car and I apologized for now following the law and thanked him for his time. He did his job and did it well. I didn’t like the ticket I was now holding, but that was my fault, not his.

The story doesn’t stop there. I remember when I went to the county courthouse to pay for the ticket. I was standing in line at the court clerks office. An officer was standing against the wall watching over everything. A woman walked up with her granddaughter in tow. She looked down at her granddaughter and told her to be good or the police officer would lock her up. He smiled at the girl and told her that he wouldn’t do that and that he was there to help. The lady smirked and told the girl again to behave or the cop would do her in. He smiled at the girl and told her again that he was on her side. The officer walked away and the woman looked at me and said, “On our side, yeah right.” This man was kind and very professional. He didn’t deserve that.

It was a very clear picture. I was standing in line to pay for a ticket that I deserved. I am certain the woman was standing there for the very same reason. She and I had very different views on why we were there and whose fault it was.

Have you encountered situations like this? Passing blame and making someone else the villain seems to be a way of life for many. I don’t want to live like this. Through this whole process I didn’t get angry (except at myself). I chose to be accountable for my actions. I made the right choice.

Yes. I am on of those guys. You know the type? Sometimes I read definitions of words, just for fun. It amazes me that we have such a huge arsenal at our disposal to express what we want to say. And yet…sometimes we goof. Maybe it’s just me.

I remember very clearly that I liked to use big words when I was a teenager. Some kids played sports to look cool. Others drove nice cars. Me? I wanted to look smart. How did I do it? By making myself look like a fool misusing words I didn’t understand.

When I was 16 I used to visit the Christian bookstore in our little town. It had a great atmosphere and the owner was friendly and went to my church. He asked me how my day went. I responded…very monogamous. He busted out laughing. For a moment I though about being offended. I asked him why he was laughing. He says, “Do you mean monotonous?” Yes. I meant monotonous. I had the right meaning…not the right word.

These days I try to use a wide vocabulary, but it has nothing to do with looking cool. I just love words. I love the meanings that they are packed with. Words have the power to lift us up and tear us down. We can inspire with our words and we can motivate…others and ourselves.

Several years ago I heard about choosing a word for the year. The pastor of our church is the one who presented the idea. He encouraged us to pray and choose a word that would motivate us throughout the year. A few years ago my word was engage. What does it mean? To establish a meaningful contact or connection with something g or someone. My goal was to engage more with my work and those around me to make a difference.

Last year the word in our home was healing. After going through cancer for the second time, focusing on healing and wellness was the task for the year. For the most part, that is what 2019 was. I have been cancer free for 19 months and feel better than I have in quite some time.

So, I have been considering g my word for 2020. I think that I am going to go with thrive. What does this mean? Webster’s Dictionary says this: to progress toward or realize a goal despite or because of circumstances. After a year of healing, it is time to start setting goals again. It is time to take my family, friendships, health, fitness, church involvement and my work to the next level. It is time to thrive.

Do you have a word for the year? What is it?

For all of my life I have loved stories. Whether a book, movie, or show on TV, tell a story and put enough mystery, explosions or fighting in it, and I was hooked. I didn’t know why I was hooked, but it didn’t matter. I loved every minute of a good story. It wasn’t until I was much older and read Donald Miller’s A million Miles In A Thousand Years that I truly understood what makes up a good story. It is a fairly simple formula that writers follow every day.

Every good story has a character that wants something. He goes after the thing that he wants, but he encounters conflict. The conflict almost beats him, but he doesn’t give up and he is able to overcome it. The character endures and reaches the climax of the story where the character achieves what they set out for. Whether it was to win the boxing match at the end of the movie, to finally fall in love with the one their heart desires, or whatever. You know when you have gotten to that scene at the end of the movie and it is time for the credits to roll.

But, what does this look like in real life? I loved when people handed me a story to enjoy. Could I spot one for myself?

It was the spring semester of 1997. I was a freshman at Southeastern Oklahoma State University and I needed a job. I responded to an ad to work for the college newspaper. The faculty advisor of the paper was a hard, but fair, professor who had a doctorate in journalism. It was a bit intimidated going into the job, but soon found my grove doing whatever was asked of me, and from time to time writing articles.

I was given an assignment one night to write a story over a speaker that was visiting the Baptist Student Union on campus. He was present for the events of April 19, 1995 in Oklahoma City and would be sharing his experiences. Being young and dumb, I took a date and didn’t pay very good attention to the speaker. Actually, I don’t think I ever heard a word he said. I knew my date had a curfew and, in an effort not to get us both in trouble, I ducked out early and got her home on time.

When I went into work the next day, I was called into the professors office to discuss the story I would be writing.

“Did you get the story?” she asked.

“No, I went, and I listened. There just didn’t seem to be much of a story,” I replied.

I am not sure if I had seen a professor get frustrated that quickly before. There might as well have been steam coming out her ears. She stared at me like I had lost my mind.

“He was a rescue worker at the Oklahoma City Bombing!” she said as she raised her voice. “What do you mean there wasn’t a story?! Are you out of your mind?!!”

I did the only thing I knew how to do. I didn’t say anything. The truth was, I was 18. I am not sure my mind was fully functional at that moment. I did have enough sense not to tell her that I had taken a date and ducked out early.

“This is what you are going to do,” she stated very matter of factly. “You are going to find the man who spoke the other night. You are going to set up a phone interview. You are going to get this story.”

I was dismissed and knew well enough to get out. I quickly did as I was told and set up an interview. The speaker very graciously agreed to talk with me and I spent about 15 minutes asking questions and writing as fast as I could.

From the conversation I learned that he was a youth minister in Oklahoma City. He volunteered to be a rescue worker right after the bombing took place. He told me in no uncertain terms that he was not prepared for what he witnessed at the bombing site. There were many workers there to help, but there was so much devastation and hurt. He told me of carrying out bodies and parts of bodies. The workers worked for hours and hours without much food or rest in the hopes of finding anyone else that might be alive and rescuing them. It was by far one of the most traumatic event of Oklahoma history and the most traumatic of this man’s life. The aftermath of what he saw and heard drove him to the point where he wanted to commit suicide. He recalled a part of the story to me where he had decided to end it all. He got in his car and started driving down the highway at well over 100 mph. He tried more than once to run the car off the road and into the pillars of a bridge. He said he felt the steering wheel pulling his hands back. He tried again at the next bridge he came to. Again, he felt a tug on the wheel in the opposite direction. He pulled his cell phone out and called a woman that he knew as praying for him. “Stop praying for me!” he told her over and over. Her answer in a word, no. He knew in that movement that he needed to find help. Soon after he took a sabbatical from the ministry and received counseling. He was happy to tell me at the end of our conversation that he was back at work in the ministry and taking life, with God’s help, one day at a time.

I interviewed this man almost 23 years ago. The paragraph above was written from memory. I went back and checked the article that had written in 1997 to make sure of my facts, but I didn’t miss any. That is what a good story does. It places images and details firmly in our minds so that we do not forget the important things that happen. We remember because of story.

Had I done what I should have that night at the Baptist Student Union, I would have listened to every word. I would have soaked them in, because he was there in person telling the story. I would have not taken a date. I would have approached him after and asked question after question to understand more. My professor was right. There was a story and the story was powerful.

Delivering pizzas was not my dream job, but it did help pay the bills when I was younger. I worked my 8-5 M-F and then 3-4 nights a week I would put in a few hours to help supplement my income. Dave Ramsey is right. It is a quick way to make a few extra bucks when you need them.

I was a few years older than most everyone who worked in the store (which shall remain nameless for this post), but I tried my best to fit in and have conversations in the slower times.

I still remember one conversation between me and another driver as clear as day, and it has been over almost 15 years ago:

“How was your last run,” I asked.

“It was fine. He didn’t tip worth a crap, but that don’t matter.” The driver smirked as he said this.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” I didn’t like where this was headed.

“Guy paid me with a twenty. It was fresh and crisp. Dumb (word omitted) didn’t see that there was another one stuck to it. Serves him right for not paying attention.” He laughed.

I went on to ask why he didn’t give it back. He told me that the customer (which he called a few more names) wouldn’t miss it. I was disgusted.

Obviously, he had no qualms about skinning the customer. I was not in a position to make the matter right. Had I said anything to management about it, it would have been his word against mine. Had I been the manager I would have fired him on the spot. So, I swallowed the issue and did my best to avoid that driver.

Isn’t integrity worth a bit more than 20 bucks? One would hope so. He had the opportunity to do the right thing. He chose not to. He could have made a faithful customer for the store, but he was just a driver and he didn’t care. What did it matter? Strangely enough, he was promoted to store manager a little while later. I had moved on by then. Had I been there, I am not sure I could have worked for him. If he couldn’t make the right decision with 20 bucks, how was he going to keep the store running? I also heard that he was fired not too long after taking his managerial role.

I’ve thought about this several times over the years. It also reminds me of once when my bride and I were buying some office supplies at Staples. There was a sale on one item, 10 for 10 bucks. So we got 10 and with our other stuff we checked out and left the store. My wife looked over the receipt and told me she felt like we hadn’t spent enough (I don’t hear that one too often). She then realized we had only been charged for one of the ten items. So, I took the item and the receipt and went back in and paid for the 9 others. The cashier thanked me with some surprise in her voice. I smiled and told her that I was glad to help.

It would have been easy to shrug my shoulders and drive away. I am glad those choices are easy. I don’t want to turn around one day and realize that I can’t be trusted because at one point I was willing to take 9 bucks from Staples.

It starts somewhere. If you can’t be trusted with a small amount, how can you ever expect to be trusted with a big one?

A while back , I sat in a seminar about social media. I consider myself fairly well versed in the topic, but it was nice to hear about many of the different forms out there and how they are used. I also learned about many I had never heard of.

There is one thing that was mentioned that has stuck with me. The same social problems that have been around for years exist within the world of social media, and those problems can be magnified because of it.

The presenter told us that there have been studies done linking Facebook with the rising divorce rate. After attending the seminar I came home to see if I could find any articles that spoke on the subject. One writer estimated that within five years Facebook would be one of the largest outlets for infidelity that man has ever known. Who knows if that is true, but think of the implications. Now add to it Instagram, Twitter, Tik-Tok and others.

As social networking grows, our ability to connect with people we haven’t seen in years increases. What about that boyfriend/girlfriend from high school? Or that summertime relationship from camp? Or the one you met your senior year spring break in Cancun? 20 years years ago those connections would have been long lost. Now it is as easy as point and click. It is very easy to reconnect…and sometimes very dangerous. If you are single and looking, that is one thing. If you are married…

I am an advocate for marriage. It drives me nuts when I hear people talking about how marriage isn’t what it used to be. I say that it is not marriage that has gone wrong. It is that person’s marriage. Marriage is just fine. Marriage is comprised of two people who have vowed to walk with each other through all of life, the good and the bad. It is two individuals who have chosen to be one. Problems arise when one of the individuals (or both) start making choices that damage the union. It is not marriage that has gone wrong, but the individuals that has chosen poorly. 

When someone chooses to get online and reconnect with old love interests it can create tension and excitement. You were really into them at one point in time and you find that there is still electricity there. It is exciting, but oh so dangerous. If you are married, this is very thin ice to tread on. Why have you contacted them? What is to be gained by reconnecting? If you are just saying hello after many years (and your spouse is fully aware of the contact) I see no issue with it. However, if you start having deep conversations behind your spouses back it can lead to emotional infidelity, which can lead to full blown affairs.

I discussed this with friends once. We all are very committed to our marriages and can see how social networking can facilitate inappropriate relationships. In the discussion I made a comment that seemed to fit. The grass is not only greenest on the side where you water, it is greenest on the side where there are difficulties. It is greenest where there is problems and stinky stuff you have to work through. When we work through hard times together it fertilizes our relationships. We have the chance to grow together through the good times and bad. It isn’t easy, but it is worth it.

I love my wife with all that I am. I want my actions and words to reflect that. If that means that there are people I have to deny Facebook requests from then so be it. We have been married 21 years now and it has been the most rewarding time of my life. We have grown up a lot. She has helped shape me into a man that I am proud to be. I know I have been a positive influence on her as well. We have worked hard to be where we are. I would not for one moment want to throw it away for someone that I either dumped or got dumped by, or for anyone else for that matter.

Social problems are the same as they have always been. Social media has helped magnify them. If there are problems in your relationship, I doubt they will be fixed online talking to an ex.

Have you encountered this? Have you had Facebook requests from old flames? How have you responded?