This afternoon, as I was in my car driving to a Cub Scout leader training meeting (more on that later), I was listening to the local news on the radio. They were talking about the death last week of a local high-end seafood restaurant owner while he was taking pictures in Death Valley (how apropos). They mentioned that his public viewing was happening right then—at the restaurant.
OK, people. I’m sure this reveals much more of the inner workings of my mind than I should admit to. That being said…
Have you ever heard of the parties where they serve sushi off of the body of some scantily-clad model? That is where my mind INSTANTLY went. Except the concept is much less appealing (not that the concept is appealing anyhow) when you picture it on an older, dead guy.
Off course, when I called Sean from the car to ask him if he was listening and share this gem from my brain with him, he didn’t hesitate in telling me how messed up I am. Of course, as I pointed out to him, I am a product of my life experiences. I only have so much responsibility for how my brain works. But him? He CHOSE me. So, really, which one of us has the real issues?
In my church, we are given callings to serve in different capacities within the congregation. Up to this point, the entire time I have been writing on this blog I have been working with the 12-18 year old girls. I love working with teenage girls. This wasn’t the first time that I have done it, and I doubt that it will be the last.
Recently, however, I was asked to accept a new calling. This was because, obviously, God has a really wicked sense of humor. I am now a Wolf den leader. That means that the one time a week that I am likely to leave my four boys for any significant period of time, it is to spend time with eight or so other boys. Eight-year-olds. This, my friends, is what you refer to as a growing opportunity. Because goodness knows that these kids don’t need me and my complete lack of experience with scouting to get them through the program. I should have some clue as to what I’m doing when Noah’s old enough for scouts in two years. Who knows how many other peoples’ kids all mess up in the meantime.
Anyhow, tonight I went for some regional training for new leaders. I have a few suggestions for the organizers and teachers of this training:
Three hours for one meeting is expecting a lot of people.
Meetings should never be scheduled to end at 9:30 pm.
If you choose to go ahead and plan a three hour meeting that ends at 9:30 pm then, for the love of all things holy, END ON TIME! Because, by 10:10, I’m just going to be grumpy.
Seriously, even if you put aside the fact that I didn’t have time to eat dinner before I came, had swollen feet, and am just dog-tired by that late, assuming that what you have to say is more important than anything else 20+ people have going on in their lives is just plain rude. Because, honestly? In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, food and sleep come way before knowing which color the summer pack badge is for each age group.