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Choose The Local Coffee Shop

I am NOT a fan of the green straws (please don’t hate me yet!). Support local businesses and especially your local coffee shop

Daniel Lancaster's avatarCoffee Made Better

In an age where green straws have found their way off every highway exit and at every major intersection; I bring a strong urge to you.

When given the choice: choose the local coffee shop.

Why:

In the small town of Black Mountain, NC, there sits a coffee shop called The DripolatorI frequent ‘The Drip’ and in turn have grown to love it. The Dripolator roasts their own beans and pulls from fair trade and organic exports. Their coffee is fantastic; but even better is the community that ‘The Drip’ provides.

IMG_2134(The Drip pictured above)

On my daily visit (sometimes twice a day) I am met with baristas that I know by name and locals that I know by face (and some by name). After visiting this place over and over again, I have found myself nestled into a beautiful community. Nestled into a community that knows me…

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Christianity, Recovery, Spirituality, Uncategorized

From Here to Kingdom Come…

Thoughts From the Porch: Spring is finally here! The Dogwood across the street is covered in reddish-pink blossoms and the first shoots of green beans and yellow squash pushed through the garden soil. Winter reminded me that its passing isn’t too far gone though. It’s still a bit chilly this morning, at least until the sun’s fully up.

I love my mornings. I’m thrilled to be in my little place of refuge here in Fort Worth. I was born here and will probably be here when the Lord calls me home. I love being from Texas. My father used to say there were only two types of people in the world, “people from Texas and everyone who wishes they were”. I know he was joking. At least I think so…

Yet, as much as I love my residence here, I’ve come to find my true home. It’s been a long journey to this place in my life. I took a lot of detours and side roads before finding a path that works. Much of that has to do with recovery from the disease of addiction. Had I not suffered from a malady of mind, body, and soul I might have continued to walk aimlessly. It introduced me to a real relationship with God and put my feet on a more spiritual path.

I haven’t yet achieved sainthood or enlightenment and for that, I’m grateful. I hope I never become so “spiritually fit that I’m of no earthly good”. Yet, the spiritual path offers me a place to be centered. I stray occasionally (well, more than occasionally…) but I don’t feel as lost as often. It’s easier to find the path again when I do veer off.

My mornings here on the porch help me find the center; help me find the way home. I’m can become easily distracted and preoccupied with everything going on in my life. Yet the simple act of quiet and solitude brings me back to what’s really important: living from my center. I may have a long “To Do” list and a myriad of distractions but I can stay on the path if I’m willing. Willingness, for me, comes down to remembering where my true home and my citizenship is. I may love Fort Worth, but the “Kingdom of Heaven” is where my true residence is; and if that’s the case I need to be about following the will of the King.

I grew up in an ultra-conservative, fundamentalist Christian home. From an early age I remember hearing about the “Good News”, but to be honest, it never sounded good to me. The long list of “dos” and “don’ts”, never being able to measure up to impossible standards of piety, only fueled depression, resentment, and isolation. It wasn’t until much later that I discovered my understanding was given by “well-meaning, but misinformed people”.

The real “Good News” is God’s kingdom is here and grace allows me to be a part of it. The cool thing about it is the transformation taking place in my life. As a citizen of that kingdom I trust the King to look out for His citizen’s (therefore my) best interests, and as a good citizen I ask for “His will, not mine”.

Amazing things begin to take place. Life is easier; not because the world changed, but because I have. My perception is different. My stress level drops and my ability to love and be of service to others rises. I’m no longer depressed, resentful, and isolated. I’m part of a community. I have friends. I have a burning desire to share the “Good News”: not to offer future rewards, but present realities; to have life “abundantly”. Now that’s really good news…

So, I sit here this morning reveling in the birth of Spring, grateful for being home…

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Graceful Nostalgia

Thoughts From the Porch: This afternoon I’m celebrating my granddaughter’s 18th birthday I’m still not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, I’m so happy and proud for her. She’s become quite a young lady. On the other hand, I recognize one chapter closing and another one beginning. She’ll graduate high school this year and then off to college. No longer will she be the little girl that accompanied me around town in my old truck, closing her eyes tightly as I went up and over bridges on the interstate, and laughing when I reached solid ground again. No longer will she be telling me what “cows have for breakfast” (yes Baillie Duke, I put that in print…). Instead, she’ll head off to college and the joys that await her on the next steps on her journey…

So, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic this morning. I get that way occasionally. I’ll be sixty this year, something of a milestone. I may be getting older, as Baillie’s birthday reminds me, but much of my life has come around again. I get teased by my younger friends about my long hair (and no beard, as that would just be too hipster-ish). I laugh and shrug it off to my “second childhood”, although it’s not always a joke. My wife often talks about the impish kid that lives with her.

I often hear friends say things like “I wish I could go back in time knowing what I know now”. I have no desire to return to my teenage years; or even my twenties or thirties. I know that where I am today, is a direct result of those years and the choices I made. Sometimes I’m a little jealous of my granddaughter though. I remember when I was 18 and anything was possible. If I could pass on any words of wisdom to her, I’d tell her never to lose that faith. Even when cynicism and apathy try to snuff it out.

I understand why some people become old, cranky, and ultra-conservative. Change is difficult. I’m grateful that life has come full circle for me. Friends tag me a “liberal”, as if that’s a bad thing. I’m grateful that some of that youthful idealism has returned. Maybe it’s because of longing for youthfulness, but I prefer to think it’s because of my relationship with God. The one afforded me by recovery. The deep experience of grace changes folks. It changed me.

 The recognition of what has been so freely given to me generates a lot of optimism in a world that’s gone awry. I’m hopeful for Baillie’s, as well as all our kids and grandkids, future. I’m hopeful (and prayerful) that they come to experience grace without the hard lessons I, and others, have had to go through. Still, I know she, and they, have to walk their own paths. Hopefully they will converge at the point of grace that leads to transformation.

Happy Birthday Miss Baillie. Please know how loved you are: by Margaret and me, by your parents and siblings, and most of, by God. In creating the whole universe, He took time to create and love you. You’re so special to us, and to Him.

Christianity, Recovery, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Intersections

Thoughts From the Porch: It’s getting a little warmer every day. The Saint Augustine grass is making its appearance amidst the winter rye. Each passing day reveals new buds, blades, and leaves. The birds begin their singing earlier in the morning. Spring is waiting to burst. I love the anticipation. All is well here in our little corner of Fort Worth.

Sitting here it’s easy to forget the world beyond our cul-de-sac. Margaret and I are blessed to live here. We have friends and neighbors who just show up at our door and make themselves at home with us. Our life is full: full of people we’re grateful to have in our lives, full of peace, and above all, full of grace. It’s easy to share this with you because I want to share the blessings. I’ve come to understand what is meant by “you can’t keep it unless you give it away. Many of you know what I’m talking about.

Despite the quiet of our “little corner”, there’s a great big world out there where peace, serenity, and grace are difficult to find at best. All I have to do is drive a few blocks and everything changes. When I come to a nearby intersection, I see the guy standing there with the sign “Lost Everything. Please help. God Bless.”, I’m confronted by the reality that, to paraphrase a Sturgill Simpson song, “life ain’t fair and the world is mean”.

All too often, I find myself looking past the face of the man on the corner. I sit and hope for the stoplight to change so I can drive off before he gets to me as he walks down the line of cars stopped at the light. I usually drive off feeling guilty because I’ve been there and did nothing to help. I try to rationalize my failure to see the man as another one of God’s kids and extend the same grace given to me.

I can’t solve homelessness, poverty, or any one of the world’s myriad of problems. I’ve tried and felt drained, tired, and worthless. It’s overwhelming and I suffer from the same problem many of us do. If I can’t do it all, I just won’t do anything. The problem is that the problem doesn’t go away, and I’ve become part of the problem. So, I feel trapped in an endless cycle of guilt, doubt, and helplessness.

One thing I’ve learned from the people God has put in my life is that guilt, doubt, and hopelessness lie to me. I can’t do everything, but I can do something. My friend Edgar often reminds me “the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time”. Moreover, “the good news” tells me that I don’t have to do any of this alone. I have access to a spirit and a power far greater than I that allows me to do things differently today, even if the changes and the actions seem so small.

Several years ago, I was blessed with doing several community projects with a group of young people from a local church, The Hills. For one of them, the young people gave up their Spring Break to build a community garden for the residents in a transitional housing facility assisting members of the HIV/AIDS community. My friend Rusty, who helped coordinate the project, asked me to speak to the kids and their parents about the project: to alleviate any fears they may have about being around people with AIDS. There’s many misconceptions about HIV/AIDS. I know because through first-hand experience. I was a resident there… not that different form the guy on the corner I talked about earlier…

I addressed the group, telling them that sometimes people who are homeless, who have disabilities, or health issues, and live marginalized lives just want to be “seen”. They, or rather “we” just want acknowledgement of our humanity. Most folks are uncomfortable around us. They look away so they won’t have to see the disabilities or dirty clothes and unkempt hair. They hurry past us, reminding us that they’re not like us, and everything else is more important than the simple acknowledgement we’re there. Sometimes, the mere act of acknowledgement, to “see”, another is the greatest act of love someone can perform.

God has been exceedingly good to me in the years since I spoke to the kids and their parents. I’m in recovery. I have a relationship with God. I’ve been blessed with an incredible wife, a house, food to eat, and far more friends than I ever could have imagined. I have “enough”. My needs are met and usually exceeded; and I tend to forget what it’s like to be one of the unseen. If I’m truly grateful for the life I’ve been given today, then I can’t forget, nor do I want to.

I’ve got some errands to run today. They’ll take me by the guy at the intersection. I hope there’s a red light and my vision is clear…

Christianity, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Monday morning…

We went to lunch with my father-in-law and his fiancé yesterday. He asks me where my “Thoughts From the Porch”. I explained that I try not to post anything on the weekends. I’m trying to learn how to observe the “sabbath”: the idea of resting from my regular labors, staying home with my wonderful wife, and “piddling” around the house. I still spend quiet time on the porch, usually before everyone else is up, and start my day. There’s something special about that rectangular piece of concrete where I sit and take in the day God has given me.

There’s something about this peaceful front porch, in my quiet little cul-de-sac: something spiritual. It’s no wonder that when our friends stop by for coffee on Sunday morning, we’ve come to calling it “Having church”. It’s sure different from the church I grew up in, and a heck of a lot more spiritual. I don’t mean to bash church services as most people understand. It’s just that something happens there on the porch that doesn’t happen in the “worship services” I grew up with. Whether it’s by myself, with Margaret, or our friends there’s a spirit of shalom, that of wholeness, harmony, and well-being, resides here. I’m under no illusion that it’s nothing other than God’s grace that makes it that way. Margaret and I simply make it available.

I was sitting there this morning, sipping coffee, and smoking the first cigarette (yes, I know you thought I quit. I still indulge, though Margaret’s finally a non-smoker…) of the day and I thought about all the faces of family and friends that have blessed our porch over the last few years. I thought about the people I don’t see as often, and I grieved over the one’s who have moved away or passed away. There’s been more of the latter category this year.

I also thought of the new faces I’ve come to see over the last year. I’m truly amazed by God’s sense of balance. Winter friends pass on and new ones appear. Life goes on. I’m grateful and at peace.

I’ll go inside to start working in a bit. The pace will quicken and the quiet of the morning will be replaced by the buzz of the “to do” list: phone calls to be made, projects to be finished and appointments to be kept. Periodically throughout the day, I’ll think of this morning on the porch and of the friends I’ve been there with. I’ll remember and smile. Aren’t Mondays great?