About Those Unsightly Extra Pounds

Battle is raging today, here on N. Wintzell. It's that time again, as after nearly two years of convalescing I am engaging again in the Battle of the Bulge. For two consecutive nights now, I've gotten out for a run. I hope to drop a few pounds and improve my cardio health and stamina. Lest you think this move is inspired by vanity, well, it is at least a little bit. On the other hand, I hope that this latest move is inspired by a desire for long-term health. A few observations about the current state of my health:

1) I'm not in quite as bad a shape as I thought I was. Running has not been pleasant, by any means, but it hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. Then again, I'm not running very far or very fast...

2) I think the difference is my Nike Dri-Fit t-shirt. While we were on vacation in Pigeon Forge, we engaged in that most American of pastimes, visiting the outlets. At the Nike store, I found some great deals on the aforementioned Nike shirts. I may not be very fast, but at least I run wearing a cool looking t-shirt. My Reebok pumps in 1991 may not have made me jump any higher, but I definitely think these shirts are boosting my running performance.

3) I like to eat way too much, and my hometown has provided too many opportunities to indulge. I blame all of you fantastic cooks for my current situation. In every church and community I've ever been in, the folks there thought they were the best cooks in the world. Citizens of Bayou la Batre, you win. On a trip to New England a few years back, Suzanne and I found ourselves in Burlington, Vermont on a Saturday night looking for supper. I was the fattest man in the entire city. After we finally found supper, I realized why. If I had to eat that slop three meals a day, I'd be thin too.

4) I sit around too much. Unfortunately, I do sedentary well. Don't get me wrong, I like to be active, but I also like to read, study, and relax. At the end of my day, one of the latter options is most likely to win out. Discipline and motivation are hard.

5) This really matters. As much as I wish it didn't, I know that I need to establish some healthier parameters in terms of my diet and exercise. I'd like to get as much out of the years I have as I can.

6) I could use some accountability, so if you see a fat guy running down N. Wintzell, yell something encouraging! Also, please don't throw anything at me.

7) I eat at Subway a lot, so that should count as healthy, right? What do you mean the chicken shouldn't be slathered in bacon and ranch dressing? What if I add spinach, is this a fair trade?

Hopefully, I will be providing updates on this journey in the weeks and months ahead. My goal is to parlay this effort in to running some kind of race (I'm mulling options now). Until then, it's off to bed with my tired legs and time to recover before I'm pounding the pavement again, here on N. Wintzell.

Quick Update

Greetings,

Sorry it's been awhile since I last posted. I want to take a moment and thank all of you for the tremendous outpouring of support that I've received here at N. Wintzell. I'm glad to hear how much you enjoy the blog, and I look forward to posting more often as we move into the summer. With that in mind, I wanted to let you know that I am also posting on another blog. In fact, it's The Happiest Blog on Earth. In it, I'll be joining with a group of bloggers as we share about our interest and fandom for all things Disney. Hopefully, you'll like it as much as the reflections provided here on N. Wintzell. I'm not giving up this blog, and if anything, I hope that this project will spark the creative juices and inspire me to write more often here. And as always, thanks for your support!

Now, I get the chance to write about my two favorite places on earth, and any way you look at it, that's a good thing. That's my view, from N. Wintzell to Main Street U.S.A.

Travels Abroad (or Tennessee) Part I

Greetings!

It's good to be back home, here on N. Wintzell after a week of travel. Last week, we took the opportunity to spend a few days away during Suzanne's spring break and, as always, we had quite the adventure. For this trip, we decided to go somewhere a bit different than our usual haunts, so we headed north to the mountains of eastern Tennessee for our time of rest and relaxation. If you've never visited the Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge area, you've missed out. I had never been there myself until just about 4 years ago. We were Disney World people (a story for another day) and never made the trek north. Each trip to the mountains fills me with a fresh perspective on the experience and this trip was no different.

Gatlinburg

No trip to the mountains would be complete without a cruise down the Parkway in Gatlinburg. One of the things that I appreciate about Gatlinburg is that I always walk away with my ego boosted from the trip. I'm a bit on the hefty side. While I'm not completely obese, I could definitely stand to lose a few pounds, and moving closer to Mama's cooking hasn't helped. A few years back, Suzanne and I took an anniversary trip to New England and found ourselves enjoying the scenery on a Saturday night in Burlington, Vermont. It was a beautiful place and I loved our time there. Burlington was also filled with thin attractive people. I was the largest man in the city. This is not the case in Gatlinburg. While the good people of Burlington looked at me with disgust over their grilled chicken salads, the visitors to Gatlinburg I saw looked up from their plates of pancakes and bacon as if to say, "come join us son, you're looking a little puny". In Gatlinburg, I'm truly amongst my own.

If we are what we consume, then my time in Gatlinburg scares me more than a little bit. If you were unaware, the entire economy of this fair city must be based on fudge, airsoft guns, and airbrushed t-shirts. The fudge I understand completely. Who doesn't love overpriced candy? (as for me, I prefer my tourist-trap confections in the taffy variety) I can understand the appeal of airsoft guns for young boys on vacation, but I can't for the life of me understand the thriving airbrushed t-shirt industry. (Disclaimer: I've never owned an airbrushed t-shirt) After observing my fellow travelers for a few hours, I felt like the airbrushed t-shirt was a cultural ritual worth participating in. I also believed that it would be better if my beloved and I got matching airbrushed t-shirts. Unfortunately, I was unable to convince my bride that we would be easier to keep up with in Dollywood with matching airbrushed t-shirts. As we passed by the shops, I gave significant consideration to what we might be able to get. At last, I decided that the perfect design to express my love of my wife and pride in my culture and heritage would be a buck and a doe standing side-by-side at sunset on a hillside covered with a Confederate-flag. I can't understand why she didn't want one either. Maggie let me know that she wouldn't be seen with me if I got an airbrushed t-shirt. Harsh words from a 5 year-old. At least Joseph thought the SpongeBob one looked cool.

That's all for today, but I'll be back soon with more on my trip report!

Easter Eggs

It's that time of year again. Here on N. Wintzell we're preparing for Easter Sunday, and I hope that it will be a good one, as we celebrate the Resurrection. This Saturday, we'll be hosting an Easter Egg Hunt at 10:30, and we'd love for you and your children to come out and be a part of it. A lot's changed since I hunted Easter eggs. Back in the good old days, we actually dyed chicken eggs. Instead of being stuffed with candy or *gasp* money, they were stuffed with hard-boiled egg yolks and whites. As a non-egg eater, there's nothing particularly appealing about finding these kinds of eggs, other than the thrill of victory and the opportunity to throw rotten eggs at each other down the road.

Regardless, Easter's a special time of year, filled with its own traditions, including making your children wear matching clothes. Mama made us wear matching clothes and now we're passing on the tradition to our kids. There's a picture out there with me in a Kelly Green sports coat from 1989 that I hope never sees the light of day. To share in the fun, my boy will be in orange plaid shorts this year. For those of us privileged enough to be of a certain age and to have been raised in this little patch of Alabama, we had the opportunity to share in one particularly fine Easter tradition. All over the world, children will get Easter baskets on the big morning, but for many of us, those Easter baskets came from my Aunt Gernes' store, Landry Dry Goods.

If you never had the opportunity to shop with Aunt Gernes, your life is poorer for it. The store had a little bit of everything and nothing was ever thrown away. Books could be filled with the stories of people who searched all over only to find what they were looking for at Landry Dry Goods. During this time of year, the shelves would fill with Easter baskets, and as a child, I knew that candy time was just around the corner. At the register, there would be a small box filled with a candy treat, appropriate for the season, the Cadbury Creme Egg. You know the ones I'm talking about. Every trip to Aunt Gernes' would find me begging Mom for one of those eggs. I'd seen the commercials and knew about the chocolate shell and the promise of rich, creamy goodness on the inside.



Occasionally she cracked and bought me one. What a let down. Cadbury Creme Eggs wrote the book on overpromising and underdelivering. It all seems so right, but when the fateful moment comes, the reality is that those Cadburys just aren't very good. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since those days and Aunt Gernes and the store are gone, but I haven't changed all that much. Just last week I found myself at CVS and saw a bin full of those eggs. I just had to try one, to see if I'd like them any better now. They taste just like they did last year, and the year before as well. They never fail to disappoint. Just thinking about those Cadbury eggs is downright depressing,

Thankfully, those Easter baskets had something better in them:


Behold! The perfect Easter candy.

Year in and year out, my baskets would have those old Elmer's Heavenly Hash eggs in them. No commercials, no quacking rabbits, just candy goodness. They never let me down. They're dependable. I've learned to trust them. No matter how many I have, I always want more. No substitute will work: I need Heavenly Hash.

This year at Easter, we're offered many substitutes for the Resurrection. We're invited to believe in a god who is heaven's wishgranter and a Jesus who is little more than a wandering prophet who said nice things and made people happy. A Jesus whose greatest desire is that all those who follow will engage in self-actualization and be healthy, wealthy, and wise. We can go to church on that Sunday and hear again the message of the Cross and the hope of the Resurrection and walk away from it to the comforting embrace of old habits and a life without faith that calls us to "come follow me".

But it wouldn't be very tasty. It's a faith that overpromises and underdelivers. Its the Cadbury Creme egg of beliefs. I don't want it. I'm tempted by it and occasionally I find myself desiring it, but I know that it won't deliver. Give me the Son of God sacrificed on a cross, bearing my sin. Give me a risen savior who calls me to forsake all to come after Him. Give me someone who has loved me with a steadfast love beyond my own understanding.

And give me another Heavenly Hash egg.

That's what I'm ready for, here on N. Wintzell

Praying for Japan

So, it's been awhile since I last updated the blog here on N. Wintzell. I hope that this writing finds all of you well. A few things have changed around the world since I last wrote. Unrest in the Middle East, rising gas prices, and now an earthquake in Japan have a lot of folks on edge. The unrest in the Middle East is all too familiar a phenomenon to cause me too much anxiety. Gas prices hit my wallet, but I made a decision about those several years back. In the wake of Katrina, with my wife 8 months pregnant, I found myself struggling to get life back to normal. If you live here on the coast, you probably remember what I'm talking about. Thankfully, we suffered no significant damage and we got power back in a relatively short amount of time. My one outstanding memory of that time was the gas shortage. I can remember driving all over the county to try to find gas and coming up empty, or hearing a rumor that a local station was going to get gas and sitting in line for hours waiting on the truck. During one of those waits, I promised God that as long as it was readily available, I wouldn't complain about the cost. So far, so good.

When I heard the news last week about the unfolding events taking place in Japan, my heart broke. Back in the Winter of 2003, I had the opportunity to travel to Japan as part of a team from the University of Mobile and it was an experience I'll never forget. From the view of Mt. Fuji, to the drive under and across Tokyo Harbor, to our visit to the Imperial palace, I was awed by what I saw there. In our work with the churches in Tokyo and Yokohama, I was blessed by the warmth of our brothers and sisters as we shared with each other. One of my favorite memories of the trip was the opportunity to preach at a New Year's Eve service for one of the local churches. For a kid from the Bayou, the chance to encourage these believers was the opportunity of a lifetime and an honor that I'll cherish forever.

I've not returned to Japan, but it's a nation that has often been on my mind. I loved my experience there and considered returning for a short-term period of service. As I watch the news and see the devastation this beautiful country is experiencing, I weep for the people of Japan. I think about those folks who are left to pick up the pieces as the news appears to grow bleaker every day with financial peril, nuclear danger, and other problems arise. I'm grateful for people who are on the scene responding to the needs. I'm a proud patriot and while I don't love everything about my country and its policies, I'm blessed when I see our people, privately and publicly respond to the needs of other nations.

Often, I hear people parroting a few familiar phrases: "We've got enough hurting people in America, we just need to take care of our own" and "I bet nobody else would come help us if that had happened in the U.S." To the former: we do have hurting people in our country, but very few of us are facing the kind of destruction that the folks we've helped are. Remember that gas crisis that I mentioned earlier? To hear people talk you would think that $.50/ gallon was going to cause all of us to starve to death. Here's the reality: the vast majority of us will rest our head in a warm bed tonight with a full belly. We may have to cut back on vacation time or have a few pots of lima beans instead of ribeyes, but we'll be ok. Very few of us in our nation, particularly those of us under 70, have any real idea what it means to suffer total loss. Many of the folks that I hear say this are doing quite well. I hope that they're dedicating their resources to helping our local folks that are in need.

To the latter statement: Thank God! Thank God that we have the privilege to live in a nation that's chosen not to be just like all the rest. I'm reminded of the repeated conflict between the Lord and Israel in the Old Testament. What does Israel want? Whether through its idolatry, injustice, or it choice of king, Israel just wants to be like every other nation. At the same time, the Lord is constantly calling Israel out to be a people separate from the nations of the world. He wants them to be a peculiar people that He uses to show the world His glory. We're not Israel, nor do we have its place in the history of redemption, but I hope that we always seek to be a nation that is willing to share the blessings of life, love, and liberty with those who are in need. I'm praying for Japan, as I know so many of you are. What else can we do? God help us to be willing to go the extra mile to be a help to the hurting.

That's my view, anyway, from here on N. Wintzell.

A Fish Tale

If you're from the Bayou, you're probably familiar with these guys...

My son is officially a Bayou La Batrian now. This past weekend was relatively quiet on our little plot of N. Wintzell. My eldest spent the weekend away with my in-laws at the Cheersport national competition in Atlanta. Needless to say, the absence of his favorite playmate left Joseph more than a little bummed out. To attempt to balance things out a little bit, we tried to do some things that he wanted to do over the weekend. For some time now, Joseph has been wanting to go fishing. He loves seeing the fish when his Pop and I catch them and he loves to pretend fish so, first up, we took a fishing trip.

Friday afternoon, Joseph and I headed to the Bayou with a light, our rods, and a little bit of squid en route to our first father-son fishing trip. If any of you have ever fished with an almost 3 year-old you know what an adventure this can be. (Protective eyewear should be worn at all times when fishing with an almost 3 year-old) He and I had different goals for the fishing trip. When asked what he hoped to catch, Joseph replied "like a thousand sharks". Needless to say, this was not my plan. I hoped to catch something that would require as little effort as possible and be insignificant enough not to feel bad about throwing back. So, with that in mind, we went to work with little success. By little success, I mean "not so much as a single bite". After moving locations a few times around the shipyard, I made an executive decision to set up a light and take a break until dark. We made a bug juice/Coca-Cola run to the Raceway and waited on night to fall.

By the time we made it back to the yard, it was good and dark and the light was beginning to attract some minnows to the top of the water. We were ready to try it again. Almost immediately, I felt a tug at my line and I knew that I had hooked something small. My catch? A croaker. (For any of my out of town readers, check out the picture above) I cast again and over the next few minutes Joseph and I caught 3 croakers. They were perfect. He got to help reel them in, they were biting pretty quickly, and I had no desire to keep them.

Joseph was quite excited by the catch, but after nearly 3 hours of fishing, he was about ready to call it a night. I started to gather our things to head home, when he stopped me and said "Thank you Daddy, for letting me come along with you". It hit me then that he didn't know what I was doing. He had no idea that the trip was for him. I wasn't going fishing that night for me, but I was doing it for him. I was being intentional about blessing him, but he was just happy for the chance to be with me.

How often do we miss it? Maybe they don't come everyday, but our lives are full of opportunities to give people the greatest gift we have- time. Moms and Dads, Grandmas and Grandpas, and even you kids out there. Don't miss the chance to spend some time with those that you love. It doesn't have to be anything that special. You can just go catch a few croakers down on the bayou. Just do it together.

That's the view around here, on N. Wintzell.

A Lesson Learned (Hopefully)

As a parent, it's amazing the things that I learn through watching my children. The farther I go along the more I recognize that the basic problems of humanity don't discriminate by age. Last week on N. Wintzell, I had just such an experience. My son, Joseph, is getting ready for his third birthday this month, but in the meantime, he's still stuck in the terrible twos. Because as soon as they turn three kids don't have anymore problems, right? Overall, he's a pretty easy kid. He responds well to discipline and is pretty good about following directions. Occasionally, however, his temper gets the best of him and last week he learned a hard lesson about the cost of anger.


Christmas 2011

The toy pictured above was one of my son's favorite Christmas presents. It's a VTech Mobigo and I have to say, we've come a long way from the Tiger electronic games we had when I was a kid. It's a pretty impressive setup with some quality educational games. Joseph loves this toy. I'd find him in bed underneath the covers playing it while he pretended to sleep. It included a Toy Story 3 game, and as Woody and Buzz are two of his favorite characters, the Mobigo and Joseph were a perfect match.

All of that changed last week. Joseph was having a two year-old moment. I gave him an instruction to follow. He refused. I repeated the instruction. He got angry. I repeated the instruction again, with defined consequences for his inaction. Then the fateful moment came, he spiked the Mobigo. (As a sidebar, throwing things in anger is a grand family tradition. We never throw things at anybody, we just chunk whatever is handy. There are probably thousands of dollars worth of wrenches and hammers in the bayou around Landry Boatworks. Once, I even managed to toss a Yazoo pushmower.) Oddly enough, those things weren't intended for that type of use.

The favorite toy is now broken and Joseph is dealing with the consequences of his actions. I hate life lessons. Every now and then, Joseph goes and picks up the Mobigo and wonders what it would be like if it still worked. Watching him, it breaks my heart for him. I wonder if this is how God feels when he looks down at me and watches me deal with the consequences of my own actions?

The Bible has a lot to say about anger, and very little of it is positive. While there is an appropriate type of righteous anger, I believe that it is the exception and not the rule. I'm reminded of Paul's words on the matter:

26 Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, 27 and give no opportunity to the devil. 31 Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.

Ephesians 4:26-27;31

For everyone of us, we can probably look back to some person, some thing, some organization, or some relationship that we have helped to break as we have acted on our anger. Let's take care that our lives aren't dominated by anger. Otherwise, there will be lots of broken pieces to sift through. When anger controls us, ultimately, the person we destroy is our self.

Of the 7 deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.

-Frederick Buechner

That's the lesson for the day, from my spot here on N. Wintzell