Stirring the Melting Pot

 

Other than the five years I resided in Chicago, I’ve lived my entire life here in Huntington, Indiana. For as long as I can remember, it’s been a very “cream” colored little town. When I was a child, it was unusual to see an African-American in Huntington. And when we did, it was followed up with a second glance and a look that said, Are they lost?

When Alex was a toddler, he and I were walking into a store and an African-American gentleman happened to be passing us. Alex blurted out, “Dad…look! It’s Michael Jordan.”  I apologized to the man and he was gracious with us.

I spend four to six weeks out of the year in the Dominican Republic doing mission work. Dominicans’ skin color range from a light cream to dark black. I actually had to think about that statement as I type this. I’ve developed such a bond and a love with my Dominican friends that skin color has never crossed my mind.

Our family attends New Covenant church in Fort Wayne. My dear friend Luther Whitfield and his wife Margo are the pastors. We absolutely love them. This church has boomed since Luther started it around four years ago. It’s made up of mostly African-Americans with a good mix of Whites and Hispanics. Again, we have grown so accustomed to our church that race rarely, if ever, is talked about. Sometimes I feel like Steve Martin in the movie “The Jerk”. Steve’s character was the adopted white son of African-American sharecroppers, who grows to adulthood naïvely unaware of his obvious adoption.

Drive around Huntington these days and you’ll see more minorities. Betsy loves to eat Chinese (food, not the people) and it’s run by all Asian-Americans. Same for me and Mexican cuisine. Los Amigos Restaurant and it’s waiters also help fine tune my Spanish skills. Both of the gas stations I frequent are each run by Muslims and Sikhs. I’m now able to point toward Mecca.

The above mentioned are friends of mine. Every one of them. We all know each other on a first and last name basis. We have knowledge about each others’ families, careers, faith and so on.

 I just wish it would have been like this when I was a child.

http://bit.ly/hTh7w

Bird Man

People think I’m kidding when I tell them I’m a birdwatcher. I have multiple feeders outside my dining room window. This is a hobby I’ve enjoyed for years. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation with neighbors, I’ve been known to stop mid-sentence and listen to a bird call. “Reeenk…Reeeenk”. Ah-ha, a Red Bellied Woodpecker!

One brutal winter, I sat in a lawn chair next to my feeders with black oil sunflower seed in the palm of my glove. Motionless for hours. Sure enough, a Nuthatch landed and enjoyed a buffet right on my wrist. I had no problem holding still since I was frozen in that position. My kids had to assist me back into the house.

Lately, I’ve studied the art of Bird Whispering. As I fill my feeders, I look up at my feathered friends perched on nearby shrubs and branches and I look into their tiny eyes and whisper, “Stop flying into my windows. It’s harmful to your little beaks. Besides, it scares the crap out of me when I’m in the house”

Window crashing is very common. Cardinals and Blue Jays are especially territorial so when they see their reflection in a window, they attack themselves. Also, birds fly at very high speeds, usually when trying to evade a predator and at a glance, a window does not appear to be an obstruction.

As a result, I’ve officiated a few bird funerals. Unfortunately, I’m usually the only family member present and if falls on my shoulders to say a few last words. “He was a cute little fellow. I’ll never forget the time he ate suet ’till his tummy was full then flew over my van and pooped. I believe I heard him giggle as he fly away.”

Gotta go fill my feeders.

Words cannot describe…

The deck on our home had not been cleaned or sealed since my Uncle Mike constructed it almost ten years ago. I never knew there was such a thing as power washing a deck. I had never uttered the words power washer.

My bride of 21 years knew about them. She knows all about tools. She is the “tool keeper” of our house and I’m the “stool keeper”. Betsy has the patience to sit down, read the directions and find that tool that screws in the bolt under the flap that turns only to the left and… well, I’ve been known to throw a hammer at the garage.

It’s not uncommon at Christmas for her to receive a Craftsman 2 hp soft start fixed base router with electronic feedback control. I’m happy with a non-stick skillet.

On a whim, I took the plunge. I borrowed my friends’ power washer and proceeded to spray off the grunge and grime that had built up on the wood over the years. Since I had googled ‘how to power wash a deck’, I felt as though I could do it for a living.

Five straight agonizing days were spent spraying, sanding and staining. Words I’ve come to hate. But I knew that once our friends would walk onto our back deck, they would fall into my arms weeping with joy over how nice it looked.

Did I mention there are different levels of water that shoot out of a power washer? The lowest level creates a wider stream of water, almost a mist. At that rate, I would be dead before the grime would come off. The highest level shoots water out like a laser, a stream as thin as a needle but powerful enough that if you shot at the ground, it would penetrate Shanghai. And damage your deck. Take a WILD guess which level Contractor David used?

Our deck has places on it that look like Wolverine sharpened his claws. I not only had to stain it…I had to caulk it. St Betsy just smiled and said it was beautiful. While she walked off the deck, she fell into a crevice.

Friends were kind, too. Since I had bragged to everyone I knew that I was working with power tools on my deck, they all were anxious to see my masterpiece. The reaction I got from them was very similar to when you look at a newborn baby that is rather homely. It’s best to keep silent and smile.

There is a good chance I’ll sit with my new baby this afternoon. I’ll caress the rails and whisper, I think you’re beautiful.

Wild Thing

I’m a movie addict and ever since I saw the preview for “Where The Wild Things Are” I’ve had it on my short list. The book was a favorite of mine as a child and I was intrigued to see how Hollywood would bring it to “life”. (Computer-generated imagery).

I asked Hannah to join me and she agreed on the condition she bring a friend. Driving the girls to the theatre, I tried to prep them a bit on the premise of the movie. I wanted them to understand it was not going to be anything like The Notebook or Pride and Prejudice. Thank God. “This was my favorite book when I was a child. Funny thing about it, there are only 10 sentences in the entire book”, I boasted. Taylor, Hannah’s friend piped up, “Mr Dean, is that why you liked the book so much?” Ugh.

We found ourselves to be the only people in the joint for this 4:30pm matinee which was perfect because when Max encounters the “Wild Things” they all begin to growl at each other. And since we owned the theatre, I growled back at the screen.  Hannah and Taylor just looked at each other like I was the Thing Gone Wild. Who would have thought this movie would have a  ”Rocky Horror Picture Show” feeling ? However, the girls did put their foot down when I wanted to dance in front of the screen.

Max was a typical boy. Throughout the movie, he wore his favorite costume, his face was dirty and his hair was always a mess. We saw how Max had trouble connecting with his older sister and locked horns with his single Mom. And just like in the book, Max got in trouble and was sent to his room without dinner.

Driving home after the movie, I explained to the girls why this movie hits home with boys and… well, to be honest, Men. It contained all the ingredients guys love in life:

Adventure, hiking, boats, costumes, good guys vs bad guys, sticks, rocks, kings, castles, crowns, weapons, forts, fighting, battles and as Max gets a little older…girls.

After I gave my it’s how a boy lives speech, Hannah and Taylor looked at me for a moment with their heads sort of tilted to one side with that “Huh?” look on their face.

 I thought to myself, years from now I hope they have a Max of their own. MANY years from now.

The check is in the mail…

As a kid, I always thought road trips were the worst trips.  A trip meant sitting in the back seat of a cramped station wagon in between two younger sisters. Thirty minutes felt like thirty years.

 Mom and Dad were able to enjoy a quiet conversation in the front of our luxury wagon. I had to battle through two sets of antsy legs, elbows that snuck into “my space” and take the brunt of a wind tunnel that blew my eyeballs dry. Yea…in those days, when the windows were down, that WAS the air conditioner.

I would scream over the howling wind, “DAD…HOW MUCH LONGER UNTIL WE GET THERE????” He would look in the rear view mirror and mouth, “Just a few more minutes.” And was able to do so with a straight face. Twenty eight times per hour, I would repeat the question and his response was always the same. After a while, my parents would look at each other out the corner of their eye and giggle. This is when I realized, the check was in the mail.Those road trips were my boot camp. Little did I know that God was preparing me for a life lived in airports and airplanes. Air travel is still the quickest and safest way from point A to point B. But since we are seeing fewer flights due to the financial turmoil the airline industry is facing, flying is beginning to feel awfully similar to my childhood road trip trauma.

Before you cram your 6 ounce bag full of shampoo, lotion and other dangerous chemicals in preparation for your next flight, here are a few tips that you may want to watch out for:

Connecting flights. Give yourself at least 60-75 minutes between domestic flights. We are sitting on tarmacs longer and longer before takeoff. Seatbelt demonstrations now require a solid ten minutes and jet ways take another 5 minutes to be peeled off the plane. At the last minute, if a man with a gray jumpsuit walks on your plane with a tool belt, doesn’t make eye contact with any passengers and begins to tinker on an overhead bin, say goodbye to your next flight.

Connecting flights #2. On an airplane, you’re on a need to know basis. In other words, you’ve been invited to the dance just not the dance floor. While sitting in your seat watching the nearby 52 planes take off with people waving and laughing at you from their windows, pray you never hear the pilot come on the intercom and start a sentence like this…”Well folks…thanks for your patience… (45 second pause)…uh..seems like…” Pilots tend to develop amnesia when it comes to mechanical issues. Let me help you. Say goodbye to your next flight.

Planes are getting smaller. Americans are getting LARGER. This is no fault of the airlines. One would assume though that if the only snack we are served on cross country flights, are a peanut and a seaweed leaf, travelers should be pencil thin. On the contrary, you will ALWAYS sit next to a defensive lineman or a sumo wrestler. You’ll be forced to keep your legs crossed tightly together. Then breathe the other way. And minutes into the flight he’ll pass out on your shoulder and begin to run a band saw through his nostrils. At this point just let him have his way. It will be over soon enough. And so will your flight.

Early Christmas

Hey friends,

A few good friends from our mission board and myself are headed back to the Dominican Republic November 11-15th. I love these trips to my favorite country. We have many friends there, both locals and missionaries, that I have come to truly love and adore.

The medical clinic that serves the people in the town of Sosua is running low on items. Items that we take for granted here in the states. I have promised my Dominican friends and our missionaries that ”Santa Claus” would bring down goodies.

Would you consider acting like an elf? First…you need to watch Will Ferrell in the movie “Elf”, second… I’m praying that the next time you make a trip to “The” Wal-Mart, or any local pharmacy you’ll find it in your heart to pick up any of the following items:

anti-itch cream

anti-fungal cream

fever/pain reducers (tylenol, advil, generics are fine…) for infants, children, and adults

iron-free vitamins for children and adults

pre-natal vitamins (if you could bring in an 8 month supply for Pastor Nicolas’ wife, she’s pregnant with their 3rd!)

cough medicine

cold/flu medicine

airborne (or other brand)

 

If you live locally, just drop the items off on my porch (aka warehouse). You can mail them to:

David Dean

920 Salamonie Ave

Huntington, IN  46750

 

Or, you can send a tax deductible check to the above address. Checks are made payable to: David Dean’s Mission Possible. Please make sure items arrive here to the “warehouse” by November 9th.

 

Many thanks in advance for however God allows you to assist!

David

Old School

One of the luxuries of cell phones is that you can ask someone a question, via a text message, and within seconds you have an answer. Seems no one writes letters these days, unless you are without a cell phone. Which I believe is around 9 people.

Since Alex has been at basic training, he is without the use of his cell phone and the internet. Which means we have been forced to writing letters. And I never realized how bad my penmanship was until I starting writing letters to him. At first glance, it looks as though I have no arms and I’m using my toes to write the letters.

I will write him, three days later he reads it, responds in a few days then three more days until I hear back from him. At this point, I have no idea what I asked him almost 10 days earlier. But as you can imagine, there is no greater feeling in the world than to see a letter in the mailbox with the “Army” logo on the envelope.

Alex has been chosen to carry the flag on the field during half-time of the Kentucky/Louisiana-Monroe college football game this Saturday, October 24th.  Words cannot describe how excited he is. Here are a few snippets from his recent letter:

“Dad, I found out I am on flag detail for the Kentucky game this Saturday! So that means like 40 of us go out onto the field and we unroll this huge flag and hold it on the field. Then they salute it or something and we roll it up and march back off the field and head back to our seats for the rest of the game.

I guess after the game we get to meet the players but I dont’ know for sure. All I know is that it will be nice to be able to get off base, hit a football game and go to the concession stand and get some real food! Because we are allowed to buy whatever we want with our own money. But no beer LOL!

Well, I thought I’d tell you guys that stuff about the game. We’re all pretty excited about it. I look forward to hearing from you soon. I hope everything is going good for you guys. I’ve been praying for ya’ll. I love and miss you guys very much. Only 39 days left!!!!

Love Alex.”

 http://www.ukathletics.com/sports/m-footbl/spec-rel/2009-tentative-schedule.html

God loves His "creatures".

I meet with a good friend for lunch on a weekly basis. Chant and I have done it the better part of ten years. Since he and I both travel frequently, conversations usually start with, “You won’t believe what I saw…” or “Oh man..this was a first…” even before we touch our silverware.  And so begin our tales of adventure from the previous weekend.

However, Chant’s recent summer family vacation saga may have been the Grand-daddy tale of them all. It went something like this:

Chant, his wife and two younger sons paid a visit to their oldest son and daughter-in-law who are living and working in Denver. As fate would have it…or more than likely as Chant planned it…our beloved Cubs happened to be in town for a 3 game stretch with the Rockies. Chant and his family would be forced at gunpoint to attend the entire series.

Prior to the last game of the weekend match-up, Chant and his family joined their son and daughter-in-law for church at Pathways in downtown Denver. Pathways is a booming church that desires to reach the community by tackling relevant issues from God’s perspective.

Pathways was right in the middle of a series called “Slumdog Christianity” and this particular Sunday, the pastor was speaking on the dangers of being too judgmental. He stated that 80% of people between the ages of 19-35 describe Christians as being “too judgmental”. 

After the service, Chant and his family had switched hotels and were about to check into the downtown Crowne Plaza for a few nights. As he and his family walked through the front doors and into the plush lobby, what he observed cause him to freeze. People were dressed in animal costumes. At first glance, Chant actually thought he was on a movie set.

Instead, Chant and his family would be sharing the hotel with the 3rd Annual Rocky Mountain region FURRIES convention (people who like to dress up as furry animals and play out their interaction as those animals). I’ll allow you a few minutes to visualize….OK, shall I continue?

 He stood in line to check in behind a young man who had a tail from the middle of his back down to the floor, furry boots on his feet and a spiked choker collar. Just when Chant had begun to think he was living on planet whacko, he looked over to the lounge to see a bear and a coyote interacting with each other on the couch. I interrupt his story at this point to say, “Now I know what I’m going to be for Halloween”.

 Chant wonders, what are the odds that I sit in church and am challenged about the concept of Christians being too judgmental and then moments later I’m at the FURRIES convention? (http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_13023828?source=pop_section_news)

As Chant and his family leave the zoo to go to their room, he questions a concierge about the interesting convention.  The young man replies, “Really quite harmless….but equally very disturbing.”

He shouldn’t judge.

God loves His “creatures”.

I meet with a good friend for lunch on a weekly basis. Chant and I have done it the better part of ten years. Since he and I both travel frequently, conversations usually start with, “You won’t believe what I saw…” or “Oh man..this was a first…” even before we touch our silverware.  And so begin our tales of adventure from the previous weekend.

However, Chant’s recent summer family vacation saga may have been the Grand-daddy tale of them all. It went something like this:

Chant, his wife and two younger sons paid a visit to their oldest son and daughter-in-law who are living and working in Denver. As fate would have it…or more than likely as Chant planned it…our beloved Cubs happened to be in town for a 3 game stretch with the Rockies. Chant and his family would be forced at gunpoint to attend the entire series.

Prior to the last game of the weekend match-up, Chant and his family joined their son and daughter-in-law for church at Pathways in downtown Denver. Pathways is a booming church that desires to reach the community by tackling relevant issues from God’s perspective.

Pathways was right in the middle of a series called “Slumdog Christianity” and this particular Sunday, the pastor was speaking on the dangers of being too judgmental. He stated that 80% of people between the ages of 19-35 describe Christians as being “too judgmental”. 

After the service, Chant and his family had switched hotels and were about to check into the downtown Crowne Plaza for a few nights. As he and his family walked through the front doors and into the plush lobby, what he observed cause him to freeze. People were dressed in animal costumes. At first glance, Chant actually thought he was on a movie set.

Instead, Chant and his family would be sharing the hotel with the 3rd Annual Rocky Mountain region FURRIES convention (people who like to dress up as furry animals and play out their interaction as those animals). I’ll allow you a few minutes to visualize….OK, shall I continue?

 He stood in line to check in behind a young man who had a tail from the middle of his back down to the floor, furry boots on his feet and a spiked choker collar. Just when Chant had begun to think he was living on planet whacko, he looked over to the lounge to see a bear and a coyote interacting with each other on the couch. I interrupt his story at this point to say, “Now I know what I’m going to be for Halloween”.

 Chant wonders, what are the odds that I sit in church and am challenged about the concept of Christians being too judgmental and then moments later I’m at the FURRIES convention? (http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_13023828?source=pop_section_news)

As Chant and his family leave the zoo to go to their room, he questions a concierge about the interesting convention.  The young man replies, “Really quite harmless….but equally very disturbing.”

He shouldn’t judge.

"I'm not fat…I'm a mega-church!"-Mike Williams

Our family received a rare phone call from Alex on Saturday. He is almost through basic training with the Army at Fort Knox, Kentucky. When he called, we didn’t know the number that came up on caller ID. But here is what we discovered after we picked up the phone.

Toward the end of every platoon’s time at basic training, a nearby country church opens their doors to these young men. The Army transports in these young soldiers for a short time with “civilians” which includes pizza, homemade cookies, games, some college football and basketball in the church gym. Then, members share their cell phones with the soldiers to call home. The break concludes with a short time of music and a message in the sanctuary.

Alex could not stop talking about how nice it was to be able to spend time with the people of this church and for the love and prayers that they offered. He shared with us, “Dad..for a short time, it made me feel like I was back home with my OWN family.”

I sent an e-mail that night to my “extended” family at Stithton Baptist Church thanking them for making our son feel at home. And for the phone call, the food, the love and most importantly…loving him like he was their son.

We live in a time where its trendy to tell people we attend a Mega-Church. 3-4 services on Sunday morning and maybe a couple on Saturday night. Our church is also opening a sister church across town, we say with pride. As I travel across the country speaking at churches, I hear these kind of statements from staff all the time. And I am truly happy for them.

But the fact of the matter is, if you don’t live in a metropolitan area, how can you call your place of worship a mega-church? In Boonville, Iowa? And how many people does it take to be called a mega-church? Isn’t that like being called a “super-model”? Isn’t being a model good enough?

I’m not beating down the guys who want to see their church grow. I’m all for it. However, I’m cheering on the thousands of tiny churches across the country who will always be under the radar yet still obeying God’s commands.

Here is what I love about Stithton Baptist Church: You’re talking about a small country church that will probably never boast of having a best selling author/pastor and will be lucky to have 300 members. But they opened their doors and loved on strangers. That stranger was our son.

We will visit Alex the first weekend in October and I plan on stopping by this church on the way home. I want to meet the individuals who make this “Soldier Ministry” possible. I want to see them face to face. I want to look them in the eyes and thank them for remembering the purpose of the church: Loving people. Not numbers.

http://www.stithton.org/