description of blog

This photo was taken by our daughter, Sarah Timmons, or my wife, depending on who you ask. We were in Rehoboth Beach, DE on Easter Sunday, 2011.

Several years ago, on the way home from a family vacation, I picked up a notebook and quickly recorded an incident that had occurred involving our son. Eventually, I used that story to illustrate something about my spiritual walk as a believer in Christ. Thus began a deliberate attempt to document the significance of everyday events. Almost any ordinary circumstance in daily life can become fodder for another story. This, almost by definition, lends itself to a blog.

Of course, many of the entries here are just ordinary diary style stuff... the stuff of ordinary blogs. Good grief, I don't want to be ordinary.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Scientific Analysis of Birthdays

If you took a poll, and charted "Enjoyment of One's Birthday" on a graph, I suspect that for many it would look something like this - quickly rising in youth, but then at some age, perhaps around 30, it would start to descend.  Evenually, it would reach a low point, and then in the latter years of one's life, when you are just happy to be around, the Enjoyment factor would rise again.

 I'm in that low point between the two peaks in the graph.

I can accept the aging of this body, as annoying as that can be.  But birthday ALWAYS prompt a reflecting on the past.  And given my temperament, that isn't necessarily a good thing.

Some of us are cursed with self-analysis.  It often hits in one's youth, around the age of 11.  By the age of 54, it's fully developed and can be set off by the typical triggers, such as birthdays, or funerals.  But it can also rear its head with such prompts as dreary weather on a Monday morning, or an aching shoulder.

The particulars of the self-analysis may differ, but the root question at this age is basically the same - "What have I done with my life up until this moment, and what will I do with it in the future?" 

The Encouragers will be quick to point out the positives.  Yes, I have a wonderful family, the best in fact.  Yes, I have great friends.  Yes, I have many to love and many who love me.  Yes, my family lacks nothing. Yes, I have MUCH to be thankful for, and nothing to gripe about.  You don't have to remind me of how blessed I am.

The issue has more to do with what we have been given.  I'm of the opinion we are all entrusted with things to be shared for the good of those around us.  It may be talents, attitudes, gifts, abilities... call it whatever you want.  These things are not for us, they are for those around us.  Who knows how this idea got so engrained in my psyche.  Maybe it was from watching SpiderMan movies.

The fact is, it's there now, and I can't shake it.  And the older I get, the more I realize I have one less year to act upon what I've been given.  Choices of the past may have limited where I can go in the future with this... not much I can do about that.  The beauty is, there's always some path from this particular point.

It's THAT path I'm interested in.  If I must be cursed with self-analysis, then I will apply it to modifying the future path. 

Perhaps birthdays aren't so bad after all.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

The Unbelievable Story of Christmas

As I listened to Cloverton's remake of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", one particular line caught my attention:

"This baby boy would grow to be
A man and one day die for me and you"

Just for a moment, forget what you know.  Forget what you know about Christianity and about Christians. Forget about how they may irritate you, about how they may seem to try to impose their beliefs on you and the rest of society, about your opinion that they are nothing more than individuals looking for a way to overcome their weakness and find an easy way out.  Forget how you may have decided that religion is simply another of man's way of explaining the inexplicable, of making sense of an incomprehensible world, at least until science is able to. Forget how you may hold the opinion that anyone, given enough time and logical contemplation, will come to the opinion that Christianity is no different than any other religion, or maybe worse.

Forget all that, for just a moment, and consider the story told in the song- this person Jesus appears on earth as a child.

Never mind the part about his sacrificing his own life for the sake of all of humanity, or the part about his being raised from death.  Never mind the part about his going back to heaven, or his returning in the future. 

As the story goes, this Jesus was not just a man, but God Himself in the form of a man.  The whole story of Christmas starts out on a huge unbelievable foot.  Even if you make the leap that there is, in fact, a God, the idea of this God appearing in the form of a baby... well... that takes a crazy leap of faith to believe. 

If it didn't happen as the story is told, if Jesus was just another boy, then there's absolutely nothing to this thing we call Christianity. 

If it did happen, if God did show up in Bethlehem, right in the middle of the New and Old Testaments, then perhaps the Book is worth looking into.

Either way, whether you believe it or not, it's a great story.

A Hallelujah Christmas by Cloverton.
"Hallelujah" originally written by Leonard Cohen
Video by Wooten Media Productions

I've heard about this baby boy
Who's come to earth to bring us joy
And I just want to sing this song to you
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
With every breath I'm singing Hallelujah

A couple came to Bethlehem
Expecting child, they searched the inn
To find a place for You were coming soon
There was no room for them to stay
So in a manger filled with hay
God's only Son was born, oh Hallelujah

The shepherds left their flocks by night
To see this baby wrapped in light
A host of angels led them all to You
It was just as the angels said
You'll find Him in a manger bed
Immanuel and Savior, Hallelujah

A star shown bright up in the east
To Bethlehem, the wisemen three
Came many miles and journeyed long for You
And to the place at which You were
Their frankincense and gold and myrrh
They gave to You and cried out Hallelujah

I know You came to rescue me
This baby boy would grow to be
A man and one day die for me and you
My sins would drive the nails in You
That rugged cross was my cross, too
Still every breath You drew was Hallelujah

Monday, September 1, 2014

"The Brent Store" or "The Effects of Boredom."

My daughters and I were standing outside the Old Navy Outlet Store in Rehoboth, waiting for Tina and the boys who were inside looking for school clothes.  Out of the blue, Sarah suggests "Daddy, you should have your own store.  It would be called "The Brent Store".

She began describing The Brent Store.  The "The" and the "Store" of the sign would be in tiny letters, with a huge "Brent" in the middle.  Of course, I liked the idea immediately, and we began to suggest things I would carry in my store... cargo shorts, cargo pants, jeans, tan colored shirts, essential tools, running shoes...

"What would your store look like?" Sarah asked.  "It would have tables with umbrellas outside where we sold coffee."  "And hot dogs Katherine asked?"  "No, sausages would be better".  "The inside would look like a planetarium, so you could see the night sky.  It would be an actual planetarium, that showed the sky which would be visible at night from our location."  And we agreed our whole family would work there, but only during the school year.  We would take our summers off.

The next day, I drew the words "The  BRENT Store" on a piece of paper and showed it to Sarah.  She wasn't impressed with that, and quickly sketched out this drawing.  I didn't grasp her concept at first, and asked what the three little rectangles were at the bottom center of the picture.  "Those are the entry doors" she said.

 I started a second sketch of The Brent Store, to which she added her own take.  It more clearly shows the immense size of my store, and illustrates the view of the store ceiling.

A healthy imagination does the soul good, as do teenage daughters.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Child in Distress

I mentioned to Tina that I was scheduling an appointment online to have some blood work done the next morning.  "You should take Sarah with you.  She needs blood work too."  Easy enough.  I scheduled one for her right after mine.

Sarah didn't think much of the early hour, but given the fact she had to do a 12 hour fast, it was probably best.  We arrived at 7:10, and were soon called up together to get the paperwork in order. Mine was wrong, but they were nice enough to agree to draw the blood anyway and I would get the appropriate paperwork later.  After settling my error, they told us to go on back.

Sarah sat down first.  I stood and watched as she answered the clinician's questions and smiled through the whole process.  She was told to keep the gauze on the site for a short period of time.  She got up out of chair and I took her place.  She stood where I had been standing, ten feet away.

The clinician felt my arm and strapped the rubber band around my bicep.  I looked off to the side, as I normally do, thinking about nothing in particular.  Just before she sterilized the site,  I heard a little sigh, and looked up just in time to see Sarah landing on the floor, smacking her head on it's hard surface.

She had fainted, and as I rushed to her, her body convulsed.  I quickly cradled her head in my right arm and held her with my left.  At this point I didn't know if the seizure was due to the fainting, or to the smack on the back of the head.  A wave of emotion came over me, giving me the urge to cry - the same feeling I had while watching my wife in labor.  She came to in a couple of seconds and asked in a nervous laugh "What happened?"  I told her she had fainted, and asked if her head was o.k.  The clinician handed me an ice pack to put under her head.  Once she seemed o.k., we helped her up and had her lay down on an examining table.

I had my blood work done, and we got into the van to drive home.  We chatted about how she felt, and I quietly reflected on how I felt.  Just thinking about the incident would drive that emotion back to the surface.  It was an emotion that forced me to ponder.

I pondered on why I hadn't kept a closer eye on Sarah after she got up. I pondered on how I was oblivious to what she needed in those moments after having blood drawn.  I was totally caught up in my own world when she needed me to be attentive.

And then, I thought about her needs in general, and wondered how oblivious I may be to them as well.  I thought about the consequences if I remained in my oblivion.

It was like a light was turned on.  I thought - as long as I'm caught up in my own little world, there's a good chance my daughter may get into distress, and I won't even be aware of it.  God I don't want to be that kind of father.  I believe that today He reminded me of what kind of a father He can help me to be.

When we got home, we questioned Sarah frequently about how she was feeling, and after a short time felt it prudent to call her doctor, who asked to check her out.  He reported that the short seizure was not entirely unusual in such circumstances in a teen, expressed a mild amount of concern about her head and the possibility of a slight concussion, and explained how she might feel over the next couple of days.

The urge to cry is not a typical thing with me.  When it occurs, I pay special attention to it and reflect on what brought it about.  In this case, it was clear.  My child was in distress, and it caused me to consider my inattentiveness to her needs.  Now that I have this milestone to look back on, I'm in a position for God to make a change in my life.  And for that reason, it was a great day.

But the lesson is much larger.  I'm not just a father, I'm a husband, I'm a son, I'm a brother, I'm an uncle.  I encounter friends and strangers on a daily basis.  And every one of those people has a need.  Of course, it isn't my responsibility to recognize and meet all of those needs.  But without a doubt, with a different focus, God may just make me aware of one struggling individual who needs attention, and give me the good sense to offer my help.  That made it an even better day.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Racing in the Street

I got in the mood for some Springsteen the other day, and listened to his early albums.  The song "Racing in the Street" is on the fourth album - Darkness on the Edge of Town - released in 1978.  He was 28 years of age. He hadn't even lived long enough by then to write about these ideas.

Not sure exactly what he had in mind when he wrote the song.  Others probably do.  The point is what occurred to me as I listened to it driving to work....

Springsteen uses the idea of racing as a metaphor for getting out and doing something.  The character in the song wants to live, wants to break out of the routine, wants to make the most of his life.  Springsteen words it this way:

Some guys they just give up living
And start dying little by little, piece by piece
Some guys come home from work and wash up
And go racing in the street

Later in the song something happens.  It's unclear, but perhaps his efforts don't bring the reward he was hoping for.  It's a common theme in Springsteen songs.

The point is, I don't want to be the guy in the song who dies "little by little, piece by piece".  I want to Race in the Street. And chances are, you do to.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013


The kids were unusually eager for Tina and I to open our gift from them on Christmas morning.  We had been given a few clues that they were working on something, but had no idea what it might be. 

At first glance, I thought they had found some old pictures on our computer, printed them off, and put them in a frame.  No, the effort was much greater. 

They had said they needed some time in the house alone.  Last Saturday was a possibility.  Tina asked them if Monday night would work.  No, they needed Saturday afternoon.

So what they actually did was to dress themselves up and take a bunch of pictures.  Katherine even went on-line to learn how to tie Asher's tie.  They dreamed up the poses.  We don't have a tri-pod (a problem I aim to remedy immediately), so they improvised using Asher's xylophone stand.

Once they had the pictures, they uploaded them onto the Walgreen's photo processing site.  And here lies the funniest part of the story. 

When they went to pick up the pictures, Walgreen's wouldn't turn them over.  They said there were copyright issues as the pictures were professionally done (nope - not making this up.)

Sarah told them she had taken them.  "These are professionally posed" Walgreen's said.  "What kind of camera did you use," they asked.  "I don't know," responded Sarah.  So after making her sign a release of some kind, removing Walgreen's of any hint of copyright infringement, they released the photos.

Once they found a frame, the rest was easy, I suppose.  They mounted the seven pictures they had had developed.  What you see here are the best of the 82 pictures they took that day.

While our kids have done well with gifts, this was by far the most thought out and cooperative effort put towards a gift our kids have ever managed to pull off.  It was, without question, the highlight of our Christmas.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

The Adventures of the Superhero Formerly Known as HandyMan, Chapter 7

After the incident which inspired this blog entry occurred and I had posted it, I introduced the homeowner to my blog.  I don't typically do this, but since she was our neighbor and good friend, I thought she would enjoy it, which she did. 
While I was there last week (the week of August 26, 2013) looking at some other work she and her husband wanted done, she commented about my lack of blog entries since this one (there was one lonely entry between this one written on May 28 and today, September 5, 2013.)
A couple of days ago, Debra died suddenly from what may have been a pulmonary embolism.  She was about 60 years of age, and in good health.
Our whole family loved Debra and will miss her.  She loved to tell interesting stories, and I think she would appreciate the re-posting of this one in her honor.

The morning started out with a rain shower, so Stupendously Content Man rode down to Seaford to pick up some supplies for another job.  By the time he was finished, the rain had dissipated, so he headed to a job he was trying to finish up.  He only had a day or so left on this large project which involved metal roofing.  There were multiple roofs covering the house and its various additions.

Stupendously Content Man was very eager to finish up this job.  It meant that 1) he could get paid for the work and 2) he could check it off his to-do list, as the job had been drawn out, and he was eager to mark it completed.  So motivated by items one and two, Stupendously Content Man climbed the ladder which was leaned up on the side of a shed style roof.  He surveyed the surface.  It had stopped raining, but the roof was wet.  The pitch was only moderate, and could easily be walked on under dry conditions.  He was uncertain about how much the dampness would affect his footing, so he cautiously put one foot down.  It held without a problem.  He moved off the ladder and placed the other foot down, and found it to be holding firm.  Satisfied with his analysis of the situation, he started the ascent to the area where he needed to finish off the last couple of pieces of roofing.

The Perilous 8 foot drop.
At about the third step, it became apparent that Stupendously Content Man's analysis of the footing situation was, in fact, incorrect.  Suddenly he was on his butt, and his ascent quickly turned into descent down the metal roof and towards a perilous 8 foot drop to the ground.

The normal course of action in this situation would have been to whip out your cordless drill, place a screw into the hex bit, and screw one's shirt sleeve, pant cuff, or, in the absence of either, one's own hand into the surface of the roof.  Unfortunately, the drill was the first thing dropped, and was already mid-air between the edge of the roof and the ground.

So, with cat-like reflexes, as Stupendously Content man slid past the aforementioned ladder, he twisted his body so as to be able to grab the ladder which, due to the fortunate foresight of Stupendously Content Man, had been secured with two screws to prevent it from sliding away from its position.

At this point, Stupendously Content Man made the decision to return to the ground, and continued working on tasks which could be performed from the safety of a step ladder.  Upon his return home to his wife, he described the incident, and she replied "Did you put a dent in the roof?"