Day 11 - Marisa and Jimmy AND Recap

Day 11- Jimmy and Marisa

Bio: Marisa is another of my long, long-time friends. I have known her since we were both five-year-olds. Many of my church memories include Marisa, from making snow cones at Falls Creek as 4^th graders to Super Summer to Silvercliff camp in CO to driving out to I-35 and 15^th street as high school seniors to pray over undeveloped land that is now our church. (The church already owned the land.)

One of my favorite Marisa stories (and there are so many) is when, as a sophomore, she declared that a particular junior boy named Nate that she had her eye on would be her husband some day. The church group laughed and dismissed it. “No,” Marisa insisted. “God told me. God himself told me I will marry Nate someday.” At first I rolled my eyes and wrote off her claim like my friends. But Marisa stuck by her guns and didn’t let the peer pressure get to her. She kept insisting God told her she would marry Nate long enough that I actually started believing her. So it made for some fun teasing when that didn’t happen.

Even though she missed it a bit on that one, Marisa is someone who faithfully pursues and listens to God. She is at once assertive and inquisitive, yet laidback and casual too. She’s worked a variety of jobs like feature film distribution and mission work in small towns. She has a fun, bursting laugh and a quick smile.

Jimmy is Marisa’s hubby, and he loves God, he loves his girls, he loves sports, and he REALLY loves football.

Eleventh Day Challenge: “Ben, we are honored to write this challenge. If you have ever watched the TV show ‘Man vs. Food’, you will know Adam Richman travels the country looking for food challenges to conquer at local favorite restaurants. Last summer, he traveled to the Steak & Catfish Barn at I-35 and Waterloo to eat All-You-Can-Eat catfish. His challenge was to eat more catfish than anyone previously, which was 28 pieces. He prevailed. Can you? Your challenge, Ben, is to attempt to eat 29 pieces of catfish in one sitting. Let’s see you beat Adam Richman! You can do it! We’d love to eat with you and cheer you on.”

Initial reaction: Aww crap. I got busy and didn’t open this challenge until AFTER I ate cake for breakfast and Pizza Hut buffet for lunch. I should have skipped those meals so I could cram more in. But…29 pieces of catfish? My stomach turns just thinking about that much of anything. Man. This one will be a challenge!

Recap: My roommate Jerrod graciously volunteered to come and photograph the proceedings, so he captured most of the night’s milestones. I met Jimmy and Marisa at the store, which from the outside looks like a beat-up old shack. From the inside it looks… a little better. We sat down and our waitress came by. I asked what the current record was and she said 42 pieces, which is outrageous and a WHOLE lot more than even Man vs. Food. She said it was Coach Vaverka, like we would automatically know his name. I inquired who he was. Turns out he is football coach at Westmoore who sets records when he visits. I shudder to think what his cholesterol level is.

Jimmy and Marisa asked how many pieces I thought I could eat. I said 13. Marisa said she thought I could do 14. Jimmy said he thought I could eat 10. Jerrod said less than 10. (Thanks for the votes of confidence, bro’s.) I felt nervous, but more an excited nervous than a scared nervous. I mean, it’s just eating. I’d just shove it down till I couldn’t shove it down anymore. Simple enough.

We ordered, with me declaring I wanted the “all-you-can-eat CATFISH,” with some flourish. Our waitress did not bat an eye. I could tell I would have to work a little harder to impress her.

While we waited for the first round of fish, Marisa reminded me why she is such a memorable person. Within five minutes of meeting Jerrod, she had prodded him into sharing his top three qualities he is looking for in a wife. Along with a brief story about a past relationship. If you know Jerrod, your jaw will be on the floor as mine was. I’ve lived with the guy for over a month and I’ve never thought to dig into his dating philosophies or history. Marisa had him talking about it in five minutes. Astounding.

The first round comes out, with five pieces of catfish on it. A crucial part of my eating strategy immediately goes up in smoke. I had planned to cram the pieces into my mouth as fast as possible, hoping to get plenty of fish already eaten before my stomach figured out what I was doing and protested. But the first bite reveals that the breading on this fish is chewy. Very chewy. I have to gnaw on it several bites before I can swallow. None of these pieces will be crammed anywhere. I’ll have to chew them up thoroughly just to get them past my throat.

The fish pieces vary a little in size but are about the size of a cell phone. Well, I guess there are a lot of cell phones, so that probably doesn’t help much. Here are some pictures.

My salad. Side dish A

First round of 5, with green beans (Side dish B) and hush puppies.

This tastes so ... good.

Further slowing me down, Marisa wants to TALK. I eye the remaining four pieces worriedly, answer politely, and gripe internally. “Yes, I know we are good friends with a long history together, and yes I know we don’t get to see each other as often as we like. But geeze, I’m in an eating contest, woman! Stop asking questions!” (However, Marisa does help me finish my green beans later, so I decided the two actions canceled each other out.)

With the first round I have two sides, green beans and house salad, which helps to break up the flavor of the fried fish. If I had planned to only eat the five catfish pieces, it would have been a great dinner. But I am on a quest. I finish my first five and order more from the waitress.

I have to wait about five minutes for the next batch to come out, which is another hole in my eating strategy. I had planned to shovel them down continuously, but I waited too long to order, so now my stomach has plenty of time to figure out exactly how full it is.

While waiting, the four of us discuss the benefits or disadvantages of water. Marisa remembers her father telling her as a child that you should drink water, because it helps you digest your food. Jimmy thinks that water will fill you up, and make you feel more full. Therefore I should drink as little as possible so as to save more room for the fish. What he says makes sense to me, but the fish, while good, is a little dry, so I find myself drinking more water than I intended as the meals goes on.

Round two arrives with five more pieces. Whereas the first five pieces tasted just fine, my first bite of this batch brings a mental protest. The flavor of the breading has gone from “tasty” to “too much!” If I were to sum up how the fish tasted, the breading was salty and strong, with some pepper flavor too, but it also had sweetness in it, from sugar or honey. And the salt vs. sweet contrast in flavors grew stronger with each additional piece. I tried to focus on the conversation we were having and ignore how my taste buds reacted to the flavor of the fish. My stomach still felt OK, it was more my mouth that did not like the next five pieces (does that make sense?). While I had the two side dishes and the hush puppies during the first round, there was no other flavor to break up the taste of fish pieces six through ten. The same flavor, bite after bite, swallow after swallow, over and over again.

I made it through nine pieces and ordered five more, working on the tenth piece while they cooked.

Jerrod helpfully pointed out that Jimmy and Marisa’s challenge said “pieces” and that if I broke the catfish filets into smaller pieces, I could very quickly beat the 29 amount. Technically. It was a good point, but I wanted to see how far I could push myself, so I didn’t pay attention to each bite as if it was a piece. (Though I could have.)

Catfish pieces eleven through fifteen arrived, and I was really dreading them at this point. I found myself drinking more and more water to break up the intensity of the flavor of that batter. Which I would then think, “Oh no, more water! Gaa!” But the cycle continued.

I made it through two more pieces, bringing me up to 12.

Marisa continued talking to me, and while I had at first though the conversation breaks were a hindrance to the goal, at this stage I actually think they helped. Each bite was a force of will, and so taking breaks to talk to her helped the flavor of that breading fade a little, so I could handle it better. Oh, and by this stage, I was drowning each bite in ketchup, which helped with the dryness but couldn’t mask the flavor of that breading.

I know I keep going on and on about the catfish breading, but even more than feeling full, that was where the mental battle was. I was just so sick of that taste, the same sweet/salty flavor on my tongue was a disgusting thing, and I had to really focus on other things to get the bites down.

I started work on number 13. I was at least glad I had beaten Jimmy and Jerrod’s (low) predictions, and figured I could make it past my own. But how much farther did I want this to last…?

I finished number 13. Jimmy and Marisa (and kiddo, sorry I haven’t mentioned her up to now) had to leave, so they applauded me and left. I started number 14. Seriously, I was having slight, momentary flashes of nausea during this one. I would swallow, take a long sip of water, sit for moment, then take another bite. It was miserable. I definitely felt very full.

I started piece number 15. And while chewing my first bite of that piece, I considered whether I wanted to order any more. More flashes of nausea. I decided against it. I figured I could finish piece 15 alright, but did I really want to sit here and cram fish down until I threw up? No. Fifteen was more than any of our predictions, it was three full loads of catfish, and I was content with that. So I waved the white flag and finished the last few bites. They didn’t come any quicker than the rest, but I made it through.

Jerrod and I paid and took a picture of the leader board (which doesn’t give Coach V quite as big a record as our waitress had.) I didn’t make it, but I set a PR that day, so it’s all good.

We drove straight over to our guy’s bible study, and I continued to have flashes of nausea on the way over. I pictured myself hurling chunky catfish/ketchup/stomach acid soup all over Brian’s immaculate floor, and while that sort of tickled my funny bone, I really didn’t want that to happen. (I’ve never seen Booker enraged, but then again I’ve never seen a male moose in raging heat either, so why start now?)

However, I needn’t have worried. Within 30 minutes, I felt just fine.

Which is a little worrying, in itself. I should have felt worse after eating that much fried foods. It is a bit distressing that my stomach is totally able to handle massive amounts of fat, flour, salt and meat. What does that say about my normal diet….?

I weighed myself before and after this challenge, and according to the scale, I gained three pounds. So, thanks a lot, Jimmy and Marisa, and when I have triple-bypass-surgery, you’re getting the bill.

Challenge: Accomplished!

- BD

Day 10 - Nobody!

So either I messed up in numbering the envelopes I sent out, or whoever had Day 10 forgot to send a challenge in, but I had no official challenge this day. Which was good, because it was LAKE DAY when my church friends and I head out to a private lake and tube/boat/swim/volleyball/sunburn to our hearts content. Thank God for married couples who have pity on us poor singles, right? :)

It was a super fun day, even without a challenge.

Day 9 - Lindsey AND Recap

Bio: Lindsey was one of the first people I ever met in college. We sat one seat across from each other the first day of class freshman year. My senior year, she was in almost all of my classes. And a majority of them in between too! We both did the same freshman bible study at the Baptist student center. We both eventually ended up going to Antioch Community Church. And being in the same small group. And co-leading together! From BIC classes to church to professional writing classes, Lindsey was my closest friend throughout college, in part because we were always freakin’ around each other!

Lindsey is fun, creative, kind, smart, and fearless. I still remember watching her and our other co-leader Erin jump off a cliff into this pool of water on a camping trip, and it wasn’t nearly deep enough, and they both came up wincing, and I was certain they were both going to be paralyzed! But they weren’t, and props to them for jumping when I was too chicken to. (Though my back feels fine… J)

Lindsey is a person with a clear vision of purpose, and you can see this over and over in her life. She knows what is important to her, so she charges forward on the big stuff and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. She loves God, she loves her family (husband Andrew, baby Grant), she loves the church, and she loves the lost. Her life is a great example of knowing God and striding towards him without wavering or getting distracted by life.

Ninth Day Challenge: “Fun & silly: Got to a museum you haven’t been to before. Perhaps one of the following: American Railway Museum, Edmond Historical Society, Oklahoma Railway Museum, Science Museum Oklahoma, National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. Stay as long as you like, but at least walk around it. You are no longer Ben Davis, but Andrew Christenson from Manchester UK. Speak and act appropriately. [I made the name up myself].

Serious & good: Go on a prayer walk and dream big with God for your neighbors, neighborhood, schools, churches, businesses, etc.”

Initial Reaction: How much fun – I love the British part! Lindsey knows me well. I love a good accent. Or a bad accent. I just love accents. This will be so much fun. And who knew OK had two competing Railway museums? Thanks Google. I think I may tackle the 45^th Infantry division museum – one that I’ve passed the sign for years, but never been to.

Recap:

I drove into the parking lot of the 45^th infantry museum, and almost immediately DQ-ed it. It is an OUTDOOR museum, and this day the temperature was about 115 degrees. So that was out. However, right next door to it are signs for the Firefighters museum and the softball hall of fame. I opted for firefighters.

I had on dress clothes from a wedding that morning, and I thought that might help me “sell” the accent, because the Europeans are always much nicer dressed than us ‘Mericans. Here is a pic of me heading into the museum.

Straight from Manchester, what what?

The Firefighters museum is basically two big rooms, one full of old fire engines, the other full of historical exhibits. This Saturday, a cheerful young man, probably no more than 25 years old, was staffing it. I walked in to the entrance to pay him, and he waved at me to hold on for a minute. He was talking to an older man and his grandson, and pointing out some aspect of a giant mural on the far wall. I looked around the museum and saw that there was no one else there besides myself and the three of them. “Uh, oh” I thought. “An accent isn’t as much fun if you don’t get to talk.”

The young man finished his explanation and came over to me. “Just one admission?” he asked. I swallowed and tried to sound nonchalant. “Yes, only one please,” I replied in my attempt at a crisp British accent. “I’m traveling solo today.”

He punched the price in his register without raising an eyebrow. “Five dollars.”

I paid him, adding a “Thank you so veh-ry much,” on for good measure. He handed me a handheld audio tour guide without showing the slightest bit of curiosity about my accent. “So, are you a firefighter?” I asked, enunciating every syllable. He nodded. Tough cookie. “Wheh-re do you woh-k?” I asked. “Mustang,” he said. “It must be teh-ribbly exciting, eh?” I said, refusing to be cowed. He nodded. “It’s an adrenaline rush. I like it.”

Then he turned around and turned a TV on, not because he was trying to be rude but because the conversation was finished. So I started my required circuit around the room.

I noted where the grandfather and grandson were, and decided to work my way over to them to force a conversation. But I didn’t want to be too obvious (you know me – Mr. Subtlety) so I actually did pay attention to the first several exhibits. Did you know that dalmatians were first used with firefighting equipment in Europe, because the dogs have a protective instinct towards horses? When these carriages needed to pass through the village, the dalmatians would keep the village dogs back from spooking the horses as they rode through. I think that is so interesting, that without any real training, a dalmatian just naturally wants to protect a horse, a creature many times its size. I think there is definitely a lost Aesop Fable that addresses how this began. Perhaps I will write it. “How the dalmatian got his spots” or something.

There was another display on early telegraphic fire warning systems. Every couple of blocks there would be a pole with one of these emergency boxes on it. If a house caught on fire, people would run to the box and flip the switch. It would ring (or something) in the fire station, and the firemen would pull out a log book and look up where the emergency box was. They would hitch up the horses, drive there, and the person who turned the switch was supposed to wait and take them back to where the fire was. It was a system with some wasted time in it, but the best possible system they could have back then.

After exploring this exhibit (which had an old warning box that used to be in a fire station), I saw the grandpa and his grandson had flown the coop. I’m afraid I’ve inherited my father’s curse. He genuinely enjoys museums, and will read EVERY SINGLE DISPLAY CARD if you don’t rush him along. Even though I don’t really care that much about ancient fire equipment, I had gotten sucked into this thing and missed my chance to inflict my accent on the pair. I decided to keep working my way around the room and, like a spider, wait to see if more visitors came into the museum I could talk to.

There were more historical facts I learned. The handheld audio guide was actually really cool. It had sound effects, music, and narration. When I finished the main room, I headed into the engine room. There were two impressive items in this room. One was a monster fire truck probably from the 60s that had a full-on skyscraper ladder on it. It barely fit in the length of the room. The second was the World’s Largest® collection of firefighter patches. And despite some dubious claims to be found in Oklahoma, I actually believe this to be true. Three of the walls were covered, row upon row upon row, with firefighter patches from all over the world. Apparently this one firefighter would collect them everywhere he went, and then started writing places asking for patches, and then donated them to the museum, where visitors have continued donating patches. Patches from Germany, Italy, England, every state imaginable, even Canada! (Do they even have fires up there?)

It would appear that firefighters never moved out of the jean jacket/patches craze of the 80s. I’m sure somewhere there is a girl named Lisa Frank with bodacious trapper keeper designs and neon shoe laces that curled who would walk into that room with her jean jacket and simply pass out from the adrenaline rush.

I looked at the engines first, and that was interesting for about 5 minutes, so then I moved to looking at the patches, and that was interesting for 10 minutes. In that time, no one else came into the museum. Tragically. So I went back to bother the young money-taker by the door.

“Thanks evah so much,” I said jauntily, and handed the audio guide back to the firefighter. “Tell me, do you still have poles you slide down when your fire alarm sounds?” He nodded sincerely and simply answered the question. “Some stations do, although mine doesn’t. Newer stations don’t really as much as older ones.”

“Do you think you’ll be a firefighter your whole career?” I asked, starching my words. And that unleashed the floodgates. This young man, Micah, got started on the benefits he has as a full-time firefighter (though volunteers have benefits too, from the union), and then how poorly funded the teacher’s pension is, and that is hurting firefighters somehow, and the state wants to cut some benefit, and blah blah blah. It was like I unscrewed the nozzle of the fire hydrant of irrelevant details in his mind, and he just spewed forth for like five minutes without any opportunity for me to interject.

When he finally paused to breathe, I politely nodded, made some excuse about other engagements, and escaped out of the door. Which was actually probably exactly what a real Brit would have done, and accidentally my most authentic moment.

I’d like to tell you that I made lots of time for the serious/good portion of this challenge, but the reality was that I took some friends to the improv (my new favorite entertainment) and got home really late, so I walked down to the nature trail 2 blocks from my house at 11:50 and prayed for only 15 minutes. But even that small portion of time was cool, because I just leaned against the fence and listened to the wind blowing through the trees, and then more softly through the tall grasses that line the trail, and watched the moon rise, and I felt God calm my heart down as I enjoyed his creation.

I walked back to my house, praying short prayers of snippets of verses over the houses on my walk home. And then I went to bed.

-BD

Day 8 - Robin AND Recap

Bio: Robin and I met in 2004 when I was right out of college. We led a small group for the church college group for a year, and have been friends ever since then. (How could I not like her after she fixed the most delicious pork chop I’ve ever eaten, cooking for our entire small group?) Robin is an architect by training, but I think one of her real gifts is her speech. Robin picks words and uses them carefully, precisely, perfectly. She just has an uncanny ability to say the exact right thing, to turn a phrase in such a way that it pierces with truth, throbs with beauty, shines with wisdom.

Over the time that I’ve known her, Robin has been to Israel, England, Spain and Nicaragua (and other places too?), changed jobs, lost jobs, suffered family tragedies and personal injuries and more family tragedies, and yet she carries on with iron determination and graceful presence. Robin has learned to trust Christ, more truly than just about anyone else I know. She is tall and regal, has wise eyes that see deep and miss little, and a wonderful love of wit and irony.  

Eighth Day Challenge: (written with beautiful, clear script due to that architecture training) “Go to Lake Arcadia. Find a secluded spot and sit still and alone for at least 30 minutes in quietness after you have read three Psalms of your choice. I suggest doing this as near sunset as possible.”

Initial Reaction: Cool. So far, the days that require a LOT of traveling around (Days 1 and 7, for example) have been followed by meditative, contemplative challenges, and I appreciate that. This isn’t a challenge that I worry about being able to complete, rather, it is a great, good-for-your-soul challenge. Also, this letter wasn’t signed, so at first I thought it was Steve Burshek who gave me the challenge, which makes sense because the two of us studied Christian meditation a few years ago. But turns out it was Robin, so there goes that thought.

Recap:

Instead of paying the City of Edmond money to go to Lake Arcadia, I went to my work’s (OK Dept. of Wildlife) Arcadia Education Area, which has walk-in access to the lake for free. Tip for anyone who wants to replicate what I did. You drive east on Memorial Road, past I-35, to Midwest Boulevard. Turn north, and drive past 2 fancy neighborhoods. You will come to a locked gate across the road. Leave your car there and walk down the road ¾ of a mile to the lake. This is totally legal until dark most of the year, minus deer season. And that is what I did.

I worried that with all the hot temperatures I would roast, but the temperature was actually very pleasant. I even had jeans on since I wanted to hike a little, but I still felt fine. I got a little warm, but there was a great breeze down by the lake. So I was fine.

So with the glow of sunset highlighting the tops of trees, I walked down the main road from my car. It was good prep time to get my mind calmed down from the stress and busy-ness of the day – just listening to the sounds of nature (breeze in the trees, summer bugs buzzing, faint boat engines). I got to sort out my pent-up frustrations, and focus my heart on my purpose for being there.

The timing of the challenge was great – a few weeks ago, my guys group started a book called Celebration of Discipline, by Richard Foster. I’ve read it before, but I just think it is a fantastic book. I love how Foster treasures some of the “classic”, ie very old, practices of profound Christian thinkers. One of the 12 disciplines is meditation, and so this challenge from Robin is great timing to get to practice this.

Here are a couple things Foster wrote about meditation in his book. “In contemporary society our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry, and crowds.” And “Christian meditation goes far beyond the notion of detachment. There is a need for detachment – a Sabbath of contemplation…[But] we must go on to attachment. The detachment from the confusion all around us is in order to have a richer attachment to God.” And “Christian meditation, very simply, is the ability to hear God’s voice and obey his word.”

As I walked and got closer to the lake, I thought about which Psalms I would pick. I decided I should read Psalm 23, because it is so well-known and a great summary of how God provides for our needs. The other two I’d figure out when the time came.

With the lake in sight, I hiked through tall grasses and came into a clearing by the water. The sun was hovering just over the horizon and reflecting beautifully off the water. Here’s a picture from my cell phone of the area, and another of me trying to look contemplative.

I circled the clearing, just enjoying the breeze, the sunset, the pleasant sounds of summer. It was very peaceful. Also, now that I think about it, I don’t recall being bothered by any bugs while I was there. Hm. Perhaps a gift from Dad that I got to enjoy a bug-free experience.

I spread an old t-shirt on the ground and sat down next to a stump, where I laid my Bible. And I just let the stillness spread over me. There was a smell too – I’m not sure I can say exactly what scent I smelled, but it just smelled rich. Like cut grass and rain and fresh earth and who knows what else all mixed together. I heard some bird calls and more bug calls. It was great.

I opened up my Bible to Psalm 68, but I’ve read that one a lot, so I went to the next one, Psalm 69. I read it through once, then started reading it line by line, trying to give time for the words to form meaning and sink into my soul.

And then something horrible happened. I started to get sleepy. Very, very sleepy. I would start to fade, then snap back awake and aware, and read a couple more lines, and get very sleepy again. I did that for Psalm 69 and then for the next one, Psalm 99, too. It was so peaceful… and still… and the temperature was a gentle warm…and then God helped me wake up.

I looked over, and under one of the trees, next to the water, I saw something. Some sort of animal, a fairly large animal, no more than 60 feet away from me. I don’t know what it was, it was too far away (thank goodness) to really identify, but it looked basically like a dog but moved like a cat. As in, take a house cat, increase it about 35 percent, give it dark fur, and that’s what I saw. And as I focused in on the animal and it slunk away into the field of grass I had just walked through, a rush of adrenaline shot through me and helped me really wake up. ‘Cause whatever it was, was still nearby.

Now, I acknowledge it could have been just a large housecat that looked big to me from a distance. We get enough reports of cougars and mountain lions and panthers at work that I realize people can greatly misjudge the size and ferocity of housecats. So maybe it wasn’t as threatening as I considered. Still, it helped me wake up. And fully awake, I came to some insight.

It’s really sad that I can’t go outside for 30 minutes and stay alert and awake enough to concentrate on God and his word. I sleep about six hours a night, sometimes less, and eight to nine on the weekends. But I never wake up naturally. Always to an alarm. Always wishing I had more time to rest.

In most of my life, this isn’t a problem. Turn on the radio, open a window, go for a quick walk and I’m fine. I don’t drink those abhorrent 5-hour-energy drinks, I don’t drink soda for the caffeine kick, but I do get snacks from the vending machine, sometimes for no other reason than I am sleepy and need something to rev me up. But out there among the trees and the tall grasses, with the sun slipping below the horizon, I didn’t have my modern defenses. I didn’t have noise, or stimulation, or food. And the exhaustion was too much for me.

Foster, the author I mentioned earlier, nails my lifestyle with this quote “If we are constantly being swept off our feet with frantic activity, we will be unable to be attentive at the moment of inward silence.” Ouch. The sting of truth.

So, with one Psalm still left, I stood up and read Psalm 23 on my feet. It helped. (Plus I thought I would be less vulnerable to unknown animal attack.) With the Psalms done, I walked slowly around the clearing, thinking. I walked over to a nearby boat ramp (which left the open clearing between me and the grasses where the creature might be lurking, so I felt safer about that.)

I spoke my thoughts aloud to God, but mainly just tried to be quiet and listen. Listen for what God might want to speak to me. It was breezier sitting down by the water on the boat ramp, so I did that. I won’t say my mind didn’t veer off into other topics while I was down there, but I mainly was able to sit and think about the Psalms.

I can’t say there was any one moment that I felt a lightening bolt of inspiration, or that I felt that God spoke any one thing emphatically to me. But these are the impressions I walked away from that time with.

His plans are not my plans. And that is OK, and will cause some angst and worry and fretting on my part, but in the end it will be OK.

He delights in my delight. It just occurred to me what an incredible playground He built for his kids with the water and the trees and the nature area I was in. It was full of things to study and things to enjoy, and the temperature was great and the smell was rich and the sounds were peaceful. And so few people get out and enjoy the simply pleasures of the world He made for us to enjoy. He delights in our delight.

The last thing I sensed was as the moon rose in the deepening-blue sky, and it looked just like a big eye, and I felt like God said, “I see you.” And it was both sort of a peek-a-boo moment, and a “you are not forgotten, I see you and I know what is going on” sentiment.

Great challenge Robin. Today was good for me, a good moment for God to remind me of his love for me and his faithfulness.

-BD

Day 7 - Matt AND Recap

Bio: When I think of Matt, several features stand out. He has a wide, cheerful grin that frequently comes out after he’s pulled some kind of mischief. He is tall, towering above most folk. He has a bursting sort of laugh, one that explodes short and quick. And he is kind. This is not a kindness that makes him lame or boring. His kindness does not limit his ability to tease and play pranks. (Trust me on that.) It is a kindness that melds perfectly in with his love of life and of people and of tomfoolery.

Matt is also an athlete, period. He is not limited to one sport. He can school you at basketball, or tennis, or volleyball, or anything in between. But he’s not arrogant or a ball hog. There are two kinds of athletes in the world of team sports. There are those insanely talented individuals who can dominate their sport, and do, overshadowing everyone else and grabbing for all the glory themselves. And there are other, also insanely talented individuals, who make everyone around them play better. When Matt and I used to play volleyball every week, I always came away feeling like I’d played far above my abilities on the games he was on my team.

I met Matt at church several years ago, and somehow, when the Hornets and the NBA came to OKC for the first time, we ended up sharing some season tickets. Every Wednesday we’d go to games together, and then other games he’d get two tickets or I’d get two tickets. It was a great year, for being part of a special piece of NBA history (Chris Paul, you’re my fave no matter what!) and also for getting to know a guy who would become a dear friend. Yo, Elway!

I haven’t even mentioned his wife Julianne, and she is every bit as awesome as he is. Great couple!

Seventh Day Challenge: OK, first of all, Matt wrote a super nice note that he stuck in with his challenge, so thanks for that one dude. And then, when I opened the envelope, 5 $20 bills fell out. WHAT!! “Ben, if you are reading this, it means you are alive. Congrats! You have survived the first six challenges. When I think of you, I think of a nice and giving person. You are always investing in people. So what kind of challenge would make people happy and have the opportunity for you to give? In this envelope you will find FIVE $20 bills. Your challenge is to make Five people feel Happy!

Directions:

1. You will ask a stranger at a gas station if they would like to receive a free gift. If they say “yes,” then let them know you would like to put $20 of gas in their vehicle. Continue asking until someone says yes.

2. Use this $20 to buy a gift for someone you like (not me J) and give it to them in the next 48 hours.

3. Use this $20 to buy as many doughnuts as possible, and take them to your office this morning for you and all your co-workers.

4. Use this $20 to bive to someone / something / a group / a random person or anyone you would like. (Must be creative.)

5. Thursday Night Thunder! Use this $20 to take a friend out to dinner tonight!”

Initial Reaction: Wowee wow! Shut the Front door! This guy gave me $100!! This is super cool, and I’ll get to do so much with this money. But that means I have the opportunity to help people, so I can’t waste that. I need to use this money in the right way, and not waste it. The gas station thing will definitely be the most intimidating one. People don’t trust strangers, and the way the question is worded, I bet people think that I am about to share the gospel with them. Which, maybe I should, huh? Doughnuts will be cool and will make me the King of the Office. And taking friends to dinner – awesome. This is going to be a blast!

Recap:

First $20 - The doughnuts were the easiest, and also the first of the five I completed. I picked up 2 dozen doughnuts and 3 sausage rolls (Wildlife employees like their meat!) for $18. I took them around to my fellow Info section employees, and this blessed everyone. If they accepted, they got a doughnut – sweet! If they refused, they got to feel good about their restraint and self-control – well done! So it was a win-win for me, the distributer. I may have sampled a sausage roll too. For quality control.

Me and Jennifer, enjoying doughnuts!

I had 18 doughnuts left, so I took them downstairs to the break room. Now, I’ve joked about how quick food disappears in the break room, but seriously, it is scary quick. I put the doughnuts down there between 8:30 and 9:00, and in one hour flat they were ALL GONE. My office is down the hall from the break room, and I didn’t even see very many people walk past. The people in my office can just hunt that stuff down. It’s incredible.

Second $20 – The gas purchase was the most daunting, so I resolved to tackle it after work. I worked late, so that put me leaving at 5:30. I’d arranged to meet some friends for supper, so I had one hour to find someone to give gas to. I prayed about it, and I felt like I wanted to watch for a mom with kids, and give it to them. Working by 23^rd street, I knew a rough neighborhood gas station, so I went there first. I pulled in and scanned the cars. There was a very bright yellow SUV (looked new) and another dark maroon car, also looked nice. Both were being filled up by men. I got out and put 3 gallons in my tank, watching (lurking) for more cars. Several more pulled in, but the occupants did not have kids with them and went inside the store without getting gas. I started to feel uncomfortable, so I abandoned that gas station and drove down to a more popular one, the OnCue at 23^rd and I-235. There were lots of cars there so I pulled in and got 3 more gallons of gas. The vehicles around me where parked but empty when I started, and slowly the owners drifted back out – 2 men, and a woman I at first mistook for a man. No kids. I wondered if perhaps Moms don’t go get gas anymore. Maybe gas stations are unsafe for children so they leave them at home?? A lady pulled up next to me, got out. She was young and smiled at me pleasantly. I smiled back. “This is what I’ve been waiting for,” I thought. “She is happy, already smiled at me, and therefore I feel much safer talking with her that she won’t reject me or mock me.” She begins to walk inside, which will bring her past my car. I reach into my pocket and grab the $20, getting ready.

“Excuse me, sir, do you have some spare change?” a man asks as he pops out from behind my terminal. Distracted, I turn to look at him, then remember my plan and glance back. The lady is past me. I look back at the man – possibly homeless, but not necessarily. He is African-American and has a beard. He is holding a plastic sack. Part of me wants to run after the lady, but I also feel like this interaction is perhaps more where I should be than with her. So I let my plan go and talk to this man.

Whenever someone asks me for money, I try to evaluate whether the money will be helpful or hurtful. I’ve heard of folks who carry around sack lunches to give to panhandlers. It is a good idea, so you are meeting their very real physical needs without contributing to possible addictions. I don’t have any lunches, so I consider giving this man the $20 for gas. I decide against it – I feel $20 would not be a safe gift for him, but might cause temptation. He is slurring his speech slightly in our talk. So I give him the dollar in change he asked for, and I also give him something else. My time.

I’m not trying to be preachy or trite with this. I had a class in college focused on poverty in our community, and as part of that we spent a weekend homeless, in cast-off clothes, at times begging. One thing I learned is how quick you drop your eyes when you beg. Maybe part of you is prideful, or maybe part of you is just ashamed you can’t provide for yourself like you should. Either way, I’ve noticed how rarely panhandlers make eye contact, especially sustained eye contact. So I try to encourage that with my interactions, in hopes that whether I give them money or not, they walk away feeling like a human being, feeling like they matter and have worth. So I asked him his name, where he was from. He opened up his plastic sack and showed me pictures of his daughter. The pictures were in a nice, Target-style frame. He told me how her Mom is moving her to Atlanta, but she was just the light of his life. It ended up being a nice conversation, and even though I didn't complete the gas challenge, I think I was where I was supposed to be at that moment. So I put the gas challenge on hold for dinner.

Third $20 - I met three friends, Justin, Chris and Hugh for supper at Whichwich, a fun little sandwich place. We are part of a guy's accountability group, and I have really enjoyed getting to know these guys and share life with them. So we had a great time eating together. Somehow that $20 stretched and we all got fed :)

Fourth $20 - next to the Whichwich was At the Beach tanning store. And I got an idea. I was going to a Board Game Night at my house, and that was a group of people. And what is more random and creative than tanning? (maybe not creative. But random.) So i got a $20 gift card to give to the winner of Board Game Night. More on that later.

Second $20, Part Two - Chris agreed to go with me to try to smoke out a person in need of some gas, and so we stopped to pray before we went gas station spying. Somehow I felt much less fearful having someone else go along for the challenge with me. I think sometimes there are things we are able to do better when we do it together, especially scary, new things. We drove to a 7-11. Still, no kids in sight. (I mean come on! I LOVED pumping the gas when I was a child. What is the deal? Are they all sitting in the vehicle on their morbidly obese butts playing Nintendo DS?) I saw a woman at one pump, and I just decided to go for it. If she turned me down, we'd try someone else.

I walked up, said hi, introduced myself. She was eyeing me skeptically. I explained to her that I wanted to give her a free gift, a tank of gas, and would she like that? She pursed her lips. "I don't have any money," she said, with an accent. I blushed. I had not communicated well. "No, no," I said. "I want to GIVE you money." I pulled the $20 out. "See? Can I buy you a tank of gas?" She didn't look thrilled, but she did accept what I offered to her. I chatted with her for a moment. Her name was Mary, and she was from Nigeria. A man came out of the store and got in her car, so I waved goodbye. It wasn't like a miracle moment or anything, but it did what it needed to.

Chris mentioned to me as we drove away that it is really hard to give things away to Americans. We have learned that nothing valuable is truly free. Maybe that's why Christ's free gift just doesn't compute for so many folks. "We've got to earn it," is our mentality. Hm.

Fourth $20, Part Two - So then I went to game night. Had a blast. We played BANG, which is like an italian version of Mafia, but rather intricate, so don't play if you have, say, two folks who are easily bored. But we had a good time that night with the brain teaser, and then we played rounds and rounds of Catch Phrase. At one point I got tired and started taking pictures of game night. here are some of my favorite shots.

Game Night!

Think, Amber. Think.

Normal faces

Addiction kills, kids.

They call it the "Evil Eye."

Gerrit

My bloody nose after Mo popped me. Without cause.

Happy Birthday Jerrod!

From those who won at BANG and at Catch Phrase, we narrowed the winners down to Hugh, Amber and Michele. Michele ended up winning the tanning gift card, which is a pity. Would have been much funnier if it was a boy.

Fifth $20 - Game Night went long, so it was 11:30 before I remembered to hoof it over to Wal-Mart to get the last item - a gift for someone. I went through a whole bunch of prospects in my head, and was really torn. I resolved to NOT get anything for my cute little nephew Shane, because he is an over-gifted baby as it is, thanks to his grandparents. But I found myself in the baby aisle anyway. I compromised. I didn't get Shane anything, but I did buy baby gifts for two other little cuties - Paisley (Cole and Amanda's brand-new baby) and Peyton (Stuart's cherub.) So that was my day of gifts and trying to make other people happy. I had a blast doing it. Thanks Elway!
-BD

Day 6 - Marisa M AND Recap

Bio: A classmate of mine in the creative writing program at OU, Marisa is a fabulous tapestry of wit, warmth, and supreme sarcasm woven together. She was the first person I ever told my big novel idea to, the first person I ever “spoke into being” my story idea, and when she didn’t react in disgust, I knew I could go ahead with it. You can find some of her work on the website thelostogle.com, which I highly recommend if you haven’t read it. When I graduated with my masters, Marisa was the one who tipped me off to the lightsaber flash mob happening during the ceremony, so I was able to participate with her and Jess in the single most interesting moment of that entire ceremony. (Which my family completely missed. How do you not notice cap-and-gown clad students pulling out fake lightsabers and doing battle? Vexing.)

Sixth Day Challenge: “Ben, so I’m sure a million people will tell you to do crazy things. Instead, I’ve got a financially responsible plan for you. Your task today is to set up a high yield / high interest savings account. (I’m not much into finances so I don’t know the difference.) I want you to set it to automatically deposit $5 into the savings account each month. You can keep it forever, or take a well-deserved vacation someday. Regardless, it’s always good to have a cash stash. Happy birthday!” 

Initial Reaction: Oh wow. This is NOT what I was expecting from Marisa’s challenge. This is about the exact opposite from what I was picturing! Ha. That’s an awesome and absolutely unique challenge. Unlike anything else I’ve been doing. Marisa, you continue to surprise! J

Recap:

I had lunch with some friends today, and asked them for recommendations on banks with high interest savings accounts. They guffawed. That was pretty much the same reaction I got from my bank when I went in to inquire about their high yield savings accounts. “In this economy?” the bank teller asked, incredulous. She showed me a sheet of rates. “If you have $10,000 that you can put into a CD for 5 years, we can pay 2.25%,” she said, giving me an eye that probably determined, “This guy is definitely not going to have $10,000.” Which was right, so score one for the one-eye quick evaluation by tellers’ eyes.

And 2.25% is nothing stellar, but it sure beats the rate I did eventually get. A regular savings account with 0.35% interest rate. For those with less than $10,000 to deposit, there were two options: A money market account, with 0.25% interest, and a regular savings, with 0.35%. So guess which one I chose? J Why do they even have “money market accounts?” For LOSERS who don’t want to save as much, clearly.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m a relational guy, so it was a wonderful surprise to find that I knew the banker who would be opening the savings account for me – my old roommate Seth Glenn! Ah Seth. So likeable, and yet also so very unlikeable. I used to tease him about how I’d come home from work and ask him how his day was, and he would answer me and then go about his business, never returning the interest. “Seth, I don’t ACTUALLY care about your day,” I’d say. “I’m being polite because I want you to ask me about MY day.” Which I guess makes me just as self-absorbed. He’s a ton of fun, and pretty quick-witted too. I enjoy verbal jousting with him.

Per the terms of the challenge, I told Seth I wanted to put $5 in my account and automatically drop $5 more in a month. Seth rolled his eyes and pulled out some paperwork. Apparently the days of saving every nickel and dime are over. It’s $200 up front or no dice, saver! Fortunately, I had a security deposit refund check for $300, so I put that in. With my interest rate, I should earn about $1 a year for the first 30 years. After which time, since I’ll be 60, I’ll probably take out the $30 earned in interest and go paint the hills. Or buy denture cleaner, which will probably cost $30 in 2041.

But hey, it’s a start, right? And partly because Seth now represents “the man”, I made him stay late and help me pick out my new check design. I think every bank I have ever been in for the last decade uses the same old check order catalogue. Does no one ever long for new or original check designs? Maybe I should visit the IKEA store. I bet they have some trendy checks you can order. And then assemble.

My bank is close to the gym, so I went back and did the workout today that I skipped yesterday. I never realized how much of a relief it is to walk forwards!

BD

* Journalist note – I may have exaggerated portions of this blog or any blog entry for dramatic effect. Just so you know.

Day 5 - Kyle AND Recap

Bio: Kyle has been a friend from church for about four years now. He is an interesting guy. He is smart and incredibly logical, very science-math-left brain oriented. And then, in rare moments, he lets you peek inside and see he is not nearly as emotionless as he sometimes comes across. (Robot Kyle, as I have sometimes joked.) Like Marisa (tomorrow’s challenge), he has a great sardonic wit. He’s a chemist, so he always has small holes in his worn khaki’s from chemicals at the office. He is mostly fun to talk to, but you have to be careful what questions you ask him. Inquire about his home mortgage, for example, and he will very logically tell you EVERYTHING that he considered before moving forward, and the financial ramifications, and blah blah blah. So I have learned to be direct with him, and avoid polite questions. He sort of conditions you to be blunt / genuine.

Fifth Day Challenge: “Ben, thanks for making me a part of the celebration. I considered a variety of ways that I could torture you with this. Unfortunately, limburger cheese is much more difficult to find in OKC than I thought it would be. When that option was exhausted, I turned to devising ways to torture you mentally and socially. That being said, here is your challenge for the day: You must only walk backwards and must strictly speak in the third person only, referring to yourself as ‘B-Daddy.’ Thanks again for involving me in this part of your life.”

Initial Reaction: Huh. When he used the word torture twice in the opening, I got pretty worried. While bizarre, walking backwards isn’t as bad as I was expecting. I’ll just stay in my chair at work all day and avoid talking to people. Though I was planning to go the gym tonight…I’ll have to figure something out.

Recap:

I drove to work considering how I’d need to adjust my day to avoid being seen walking backwards. Of course, today is the day when our Commissioners (board of directors) meet, and a lot more people are in the building. I don’t want anyone to see me acting weirdly, so I need to come up with a plan to avoid being seen. As for “B Daddy” I can just start sentences without references to myself. For example, if I was talking about the fourth of July, I’d say, “Went to a barbeque. Set off a firework. Had a good time.” And voila! No need to reference “B Daddy”. (Which I thought was “B Diddy” due to Kyle’s penmanship, so I went half the day using that as my reference.)

Getting In: I arrived at work after most others had gone inside. I looked around the parking lot, and the coast was clear. I started walking backwards. Then a co-worker (my least favorite of everyone I work with, naturally), pulled in. I halted stiffly and dropped to a knee, pretending to tie a show. He took a while, and I didn’t want to appear like I truly can’t tie my shoe, so I pulled out my cell phone and pretended to text. Once he was inside the building, I resumed my backwards walk, tripping and almost falling in my heavy black dress shoes. I reached the door, got inside, and then immediately saw that same guy in the hallway. In that blinding second of fear that he’d catch me, I figured out a loophole. I must “walk backwards,” but Kyle said nothing about running. So I ran to my office facing forward, deliberately avoiding eye contact with that guy because it is a known fact he can sniff out fear and embarrassment.

Hallways: I stayed anchored to my chair for the first hour and a half. When I knew the commissioners were in the middle of the meeting, I peered out my door at the hallway. It was clear. So I backwards trotted to the stairwell, and went up to get my mail. I have to say, walking backwards UP stairs is actually easier than I thought. It’s coming DOWN that gets tricky. During this trip and a subsequent trip to the bathroom, I’d walk backwards until I came to an open doorway. Then I’d twirl around in a sort of circle so that as I passed my co-worker’s line of sight, it would look like I was going forward. (Or just randomly doing circles in the hallway.) Once when I had to go to the bathroom, I luckily saw a co-worker from my Department passing my door. I started talking to her, then walked backwards away from her to the bathroom while still talking. I think she thought I was really into whatever we were talking about. I wasn’t.

Phone calls / conversations: For the first hour, I only got two phone calls, both from co-workers upstairs, so when I did the “B Diddy” thing, they chuckled and didn’t even acknowledge the strangeness. So that worked. But later, in a conversation with my immediate boss, I got really into what I was talking about and forgot to replace. It’s funny, I never realized how MUCH I use the word “I” in a conversation until I was working hard not to use it.

Lunch: Grandy’s Drive-through. They didn’t even pause when I said, “B Daddy wants a pot roast meal.” That part went great. But it was on the way back inside that I folded. I parked around the side of the building and (backwards) skirted the building because I knew the lunch crowd could see out the window facing the parking lot. I came around so they couldn’t see me until I was only 12 feet away from the entrance. And then Mr. Vaguely Serious stepped out the door and saw me. He’s a nice man: quiet, polite, drab. And I just couldn’t figure out how to NOT look like a super weirdo. I didn’t pretend to text, or tie my shoe, or anything. I think I just looked sheepish, turned around, and walked inside. So there you have it, Kyle. Score 1 for embarrassing me into breaking.

Leaving the building / working out: I usually stay later than most of my co-workers, so I was fortunate to have the parking lot fairly empty when I left. I walked backwards as quickly as I could to my car. Which is not very fast, because the balance is all off. So then I drove to my gym, which is in Mercy Hospital. I had debated whether to attempt it or not, since there are much smaller quarters there and people would most certainly notice my odd behavior. But I went for it anyway.

I parked across the street from the entrance because if you park next to the entrance, the sprinklers leave your windshield totally plastered in dried waterdrops. It was a moment of truth, because there are a fair number of cars driving on that road on the Mercy campus. But I manned up and walked all the way to the front of the building backwards.

And then saw the valet parking attendant staring at me, felt my face flame with embarrassment, and broke for the second time that day. I turned forwards and walked inside, humiliated. I should have just owned it and kept going. Ah well....

I rode the elevator down (by myself) and came up with a game plan for exiting the elevator. You see, the gym has large glass windows so people working out can see you as soon as you get out of the elevator. So out came the phone again. I exited the elevator, then turned around backwards, pantomiming that I was trying to find signal for my phone. I took a few steps backwards and stopped. I pretended to text. I snuck a glance at the folks on the treadmill. Two were looking at me, the sweet old lady who always says "hi," and a rather large man "with a round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly." I swallow, feeling my cheeks flush again. But I have to get inside. I can't just stand around in the hallway. So I take a few more steps backwards and fiddle with the phone. Then I twirl around and open the door. I'm in.

The sweet old lady (SOL) says "hi," warmly. But Santa is giving me the evil eye. He smells something fishy. I take two quick steps to the couches that are slightly behind the line of treadmills and sit down. This a.) allows me to not break the challenge and b.) forces him to return facing forwards instead of watching me.

With all the treadmillers facing forwards (and away from me), I creep along backwards, sticking next to the wall. I get to the sign in sheet. I sign in (forgetting to sign B Daddy, tragically.) And then I escape down the hall to the locker room. I change in, recharge my mojo, and go back out, backwards. I left my phone in my locker, so I grab a magazine and pretend to be absorbed in it as I slide along the back wall. Santa eyes me again, so I stop and flip through the magazine, find an article I like, and read it. After two minutes, he looks away, distracted. I gloat at outlasting him and consider a career change to special ops. I walk backwards to the bicycle machine and sit down.

The SOL is on the treadmill beside me. I smile. She smiles back. "Were you using a GPS?" she asks. My special ops career evaporates. I have fooled no one, not even the SOL. "Um, no. Just texting," I reply. "Oh," she replies. Then she tells me a story about her niece in Boston who is big into "the GPS." I figure out she is talking about geocaching, even though it is clear she doesn't quite understand the specifics. But her niece loves it. She thought I might have been programming in the coordinates in my phone. That actually would have been a good cover story.....

I warm up for 6 minutes on the bike, during which time Santa finishes and leaves. Whew. I complete the warmup and slink back along the wall to the water cooler, get some water, and stare down the task in front of me. The Mercy gym is very small and compact. This Tuesday, there are about 5 people working out on the machines, which is kind of a lot. I am going to have to do my circuit, going from machine to machine, backwards because there is no room to run. And the other people there are definately going to see.

I just can't take the social awkwardness, or rather, potential social awkwardness. I get my stuff out of the locker and flee (backwards) to my car. I go jogging (forwards!) in a nearby neighborhood.

Later on that night I played volleyball with some friends, and I walked backwards to and from the court, but didn't try to keep up with walking backwards on the court.

Looking back, there were several moments I didn't follow through, and folded from social pressure. Clearly, I care very much what other people think of me, even strangers. So maybe I should order some limburger cheese online to make up for it. Maybe...

BD