Dawning

When you get to reality
And this phantom life is o'er
When you leave this hurtful world
And step on the other shore

Oh how the angels greet you
And look on you with awe
You thought you hurt alone
But angels heard, they saw

A heroes welcome
Let the trumpets blast
The overcoming warrior
Has come home at last

Still bleeding from the wounds
Which Satan cut so deep
Tears of pain God wipes away
Tears of joy are all you weep

Ushered into the Presence
Your scars like medals shine
He knows you by those scars and says
They look so much like Mine

His face lights up
His smile so true
His eyes speak love
When He looks at you

He leaps from His Throne
He calls your name
So delighted is He
That at last you came

You'll see the face of God
Your eyes won't have to dim
The resemblance is uncanny
You look so much like Him

I wrote this poem for my friend Dawn Sease 13 years ago when she was going through a rough time.

Chest Hair Toupee

Hi. My name is Tom Klopfenstein. I'm not just the president of the Chest Hair Toupee Club For Men, I'm a customer!

Last year I was talking to this guy who had a really bad toupee. I found it hard to look him in the eye. I became convinced that I could make a better toupee.

I cut off all of my chest hair and saved it in a bag. Then I concentrated on growing more. As I harvested the hair I utilized the farming technique of crop rotation. (This is not a joke. I really did this.)

Are you bald? Do you know someone who is? Do you know someone who would benefit from having my chest hair on his head?

I think that once you see our many styles you will join our millions of happy customers in saying, "Make mine out of Chest Hair!"

Chest Hair Toupee

It took me months to harvest enough chest hair to make my toupees. I didn't tell Nancy about the project, because I was afraid she wouldn't get it.

The beginning of every dream has a fragile stage that needs nurture, not questions about the sanity of the dreamer.

So I hid the ever growing bag of chest hair in my sock drawer.

Chest Hair Toupee

We call this retro style The Pompadour.

Chest Hair Toupee

We call this the Glamor Shot. I can't tell you how many times I've been stopped on the street when I'm wearing this one and asked if I am a model.

Chest Hair Toupee

I feel pretty

Chest Hair Toupee

You talkin ta me?

Chest Hair Toupee

We get lot's of letters and emails from the hip youngsters who say, " Tom, we totally Love your products! But do you have anything edgy for our punk, grunge, goth, emo, hip hop generation?"

Yes we do! The beauty of the Chest Hair Toupee is that it never goes out of style! I personally recommend The Chest Hair Mohawk.

Chest Hair Toupee

It looks real, because it is real. Note the enhanced eyebrows for that powerful manly look. Also comes in Unibrow.

The Chest Hair Toupee

This is one of our most popular toupees. It's great for when you visit big cities. No one has ever been mugged while wearing this style. It says "Stay away. I'm not right. You don't want any of this!"

Happy Easter

Happy Easter ! This morning my good friend Terry came over and we had a great talk and prayer time together. We had much to thank God for. Nancy and Caitlin and I went to The 11:45 service at church, Granger Community Church. It was awesome! We love our church.

Then we went to Carol and Kevins for an amazing meal. Thanks so much you guys!
From there we went to visit Nancy's mom in the nursing home. She didn't talk, but she smiled at us. We came home, I read, wrote, watched some TV, played with the pooch, and now I'm giving myself early bed. Goodnight.

My Day

Today I met my good friend Dean at Tradewinds, my favorite place to eat breakfast. We had a great talk and then we sat in my car and prayed after we ate. He paid for my meal. Thanks Dean! It was snowing like crazy. I bet we had 2-3 inches. I can't believe this. I kind of like it though. As I drove home I was listening to the book on tape, Night Probe by Clive Cussler. I was in our driveway and I thought I'd finish the chapter. So I turned off the car and sat there listening with my eyes closed. You guessed it, I fell asleep. Nancy came home and found me and thought I'd had a heart attack. She knocked on the window and I woke up. I'd been sleeping for over an hour!

Nancy and I played our favorite computer game, Text Twist. If they ever make this an Olympic event we would win a gold medal. Yes, we are that good.

Our water heater died today. Nancy discovered water in the basement. I called my friend Doug, because Doug can fix anything. He is such a generous person. He came right over and began to tell me how to fix it. He's so funny. My eyes glazed over. He said something about sawing through 2 pipes, and using a torch to solder...something. At some point I was to turn off the gas. I seem to remember something about tools being involved.

Usually at this point I would act like it was all coming back to me, thank him as he left, then go call a plumber. Doug has known me for a long time. He has to know how incompetent I am when it comes to plumbing, engines, home repairs, car maintenance, math, operating a hammer, finding my way home, personal hygiene, etc. I'll stop before I embarrass myself. So I think he was just messing with me.

We went to Lowes where we selected a lovely water heater for $322.94. Nancy and I had been hoping for an unexpected expense so we could get rid of some of the cash that had been piling up around the house.

Doug let me help him. It was my job to hold the bucket under the pipe that let the water out of the old water heater. I could tell that he was impressed by how little water I spilled, and how minor my burns were. I know I was.

He reminded me that Nancy and I were taking Caitlin out to eat and I should probably go get ready. When I protested he explained that some jobs go more quickly without help.

We took Caitlin to Hana Yori's for her 19th birthday. We sat with Nancy's dad, her sister Carol, and Kevin, Ryan, Rory, and Aly. We had a great time. The onion volcano never gets old.

We came home and played the game where we try to figure out what the thing used to be that Boo chewed up and left all over the living room floor. Nancy guessed a shoe, but I thought it looked more like a squirrel carcass. Either way, I took it outside and buried it underneath the Easter snow.

Now I'm going out to the car to get some sleep.

Boo 1

This is our puppy. Her name is Boo. We got her from Pet Refuge. We love her. Most of the time.

Boo 2

Our Baby.

Boo 3

This is Boo when she is possessed by Satan.

Grandpa

Today I was thinking about how someday I will be a grandpa. (If you are reading this and your name is Jimmy, Caitlin, Ben, or Michele I better not become a grandpa anytime soon!) Someday I hope to be one of those eccentric type grandpa's. This is likely because 1. I am already an eccentric middle aged guy and 2. My grandpa Ezra Hohulin was pretty eccentric. At least he seemed that way to me. Most grandpa's seem a little odd to their grandkids. I mean here's an old guy who doesn't have a job, but always has candy.

One time, when I was about 11 years old Grandpa took me to KFC. But it wasn't called KFC back then. It was called Kentucky Fried Chicken. The word fried did not sound healthy, so they cleverly changed the name to KFC. Marketing people think we are stupid, and they are right.
So there we were getting fried chicken, before the name change made it healthy to do so.

As we entered the store grandpa announces to everyone, "This is my Grandson!" As if I were royalty and my presence suddenly made their chicken shopping experience something to tell their families about. "We were getting the chicken and who do you think walked in? A grandson!" People smiled in response.

I was special, because he made me special. The relationship between a grandparent and their grandchild can be magical. The grand relationship. There really isn't anything else like it. They are often the only people in our young lives who really listen and don't yell at us. We sense the vestiges of authority they have over our all powerful parents.

I remember being quite little and mystified when Grandpa's identity was revealed to me. He was my mom's dad. Parents had parents? So then, my parents were little once? Even as small children, our grandparents help us understand that life has stages. Our parents were once like us, someday our parents, and then we, would be like our grandparents. There was an order to things. I was an important link in this chain.

As grandpa and I stood in line, I saw a dollar on the floor. I picked it up and showed it to him. He was more excited than I was. Now he had more information to share with the customers and staff. Not only was I his grandson, I was his wealthy grandson. He made me re-enact how I swooped down and snatched the money out from underneath them all. Clearly I had all the makings of a financial genius.

It occurs to me just now as I write this over 30 years later, that Grandpa dropped that dollar so I would find it. Eccentric grandpa's specialize in that kind of thing.

Someday I will tell my grandchildren many stories of all of the stupid things their parents did when they were growing up. Thus undermining their authority, which is just one of the many services grandparents provide. I will spoil them rotten, indulge their every whim, get them all hopped up on candy, and send them home. I will have my sweet revenge on my kids for the hell I am now enduring, which we call raising teenagers.

Sam Levenson said, "The reason grandparents and grandchildren get along so well is that they have a common enemy." My children's offspring will become my allies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Someday I will have no job, lots of candy, and total acceptance and love for some children who will call me grandpa. I will take them into stores and proudly introduce them as if they were somebody. And they will be.

Dear Michele

Sometimes when I am sitting quietly in my chair in the living room praying, I ask the Lord to open my eyes to the needs of people. I want God to use me. There are so many who could use my help. For we were blessed to be a blessing. As we serve others we become more like Jesus, the greatest servant of all. Then Nancy asks me to move my feet so she can vacuum. I reply, "Do I have to do everything around here? Would it kill you to lift my feet?" Jeez Louise, Nancy.
Love, Dad

Stretch

I always like to stretch before I go jogging.

Dear Michele

As you enter the dating world there are some things you need to know. Don’t worry this isn’t the sex talk. You’ll get that talk in a few years when you begin to get curious about boys. Right now at 17 you are in the paling stage. I’m talking about your name. Time was when a person’s good name was all they had. You don’t want to get a bad name.

As a female you have an advantage over us males because you get to change your name. This is helpful because it will throw off the people you owe money to. You get to choose your new name. When you choose the man who will someday become your ex-husband, be sure above all else, that he has a cool last name because this will be your name, for a while. You will no longer be Michele Klopfenstein.

I was glad to hear you are back talking to your little pal, Zach Peed. What a fine young man he is. Although it’s true I’ve never met him, I would love for you two kids to get married some day. It would make me so happy just to be able to say, "Michele Peed." Marrying for love is over rated. In some cultures they have arranged marriages where they don’t even know the person. You could be Michele Peed. A name that is a sentence. "Michele Peed!" "Where?" "Right over there on the carpet!"

Tell Zach I said hi.

Love, Dad

When Mullets Ruled The Earth

Perhaps the reason I have no hair today is because I'm being punished for having had a mullet. I obviously abused the privilege of having hair.

Michele could not look any more cute if she tried.

Ben is sporting a toothless grin and a Moody Bible Institute t-shirt.

Back In The Day

The little boy in the pink dress is me.
Check out the old black and white.
A rare photo of my brother Jim not hurting me.
Nice bow tie.

Shit Stinks But It's Warm

As a therapist I think a lot about how to help people change their lives. I’m grateful to those who have helped me change and I know I have a long way to go. Change is hard. Last night I was buying a book with a pocketful of nickels, dimes and quarters. The book cost eight dollars, so as I counted it out I said, "Do you need change?" The cashier said, "Yes, but I have to really want to change." It’s an old joke, but the unexpectedness of it made me laugh.


My own resistance to change makes sense to me. But it’s always surprising to me when others resist my attempts to make changes in my life. The addicts I work with encounter this reaction frequently. The very people who have been hoping and harping for years that they stop doing drugs, are often disappointed by what sobriety looks like in their loved one. They are unsure of their new role. Some even attempt to sabotage the recovery they spent years praying for. They were not expecting that the addicts’ change would require huge changes in themselves.


Not everyone is convinced of his or her own need to change. Oh, they want change, but it’s other people they wish would change. They want their circumstances to change. They have become quite comfortable with themselves and can't accept how greatly they contribute to their own problems.


I don’t naturally embrace change. I resist it. Change is frightening, but inevitable. Positive changes that require minimal effort on my part are welcome changes. This is why the lottery is so popular. The chance that our whole lives could be forever changed in an instant for a dollar is hard to resist.


I’m often not even fully aware of the real changes I need to make until others point them out. I hate it when that happens. I get defensive and angry. Then I think about it. I think about how wrong they are. I rationalize and conclude they just don’t understand. But part of me knows their words hurt because they are true. I remind myself that it was love that motivated them to speak up in the first place and I should really be grateful to have friends who love me enough to risk pissing me off. Sometimes mature and right thinking can be so annoying.


Slowly, the truth sinks in and the fact is, deep down I already sensed I needed to change. I just thought I was doing a better job of hiding it from others.


There are those who want us to change for their benefit and those who want us to change for ours. When Nancy wants me to make a change it is for the benefit of our marriage. Which benefits us both. If your wife says you need to change then chances are really good that you need to change.


I can’t change another person. I am powerless to do so, and all attempts will only leave me frustrated. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. I can’t change another no matter how hard I try. Raising the volume and frequency of my requests surprisingly doesn’t help either. No member of my family has ever said to me, "Oh, thank you. I didn’t see that you were right until you started yelling. The first one thousand times you said it, it didn’t make sense. Thanks for hanging in there and saying it one thousand and one times."


If something doesn’t work, stop doing it. If we put the energy we waste in trying to change another, into changing ourselves, we would find much of the happiness which eludes us.


I can’t change the past. As much as I wish I could, I can’t. So any time I spend wishing and regretting is wasted and it squanders energy that could be used to change my present. I can’t change the past.


I accept my past. The good and the bad. Acceptance is not to be confused with approval. For years this confusion kept me from forgiving others. I do not approve of the bad things that have happened to me, but I accept the reality that they happened. I accept my past.


I accept myself. The good and the bad. In doing so, I am not approving of the bad. I’m not making excuses for my character defects. I’m acknowledging and accepting the reality of them. I’m choosing to no longer live in denial of my faults and strengths. I’m asking God to shine a spotlight on my blind spots, so I can clearly see what needs work. False modesty is boring. There is so much good in each of us to be thankful to God for and to celebrate. Josh McDowell states that self-esteem is seeing myself as God sees me, nothing more, nothing less. I accept myself.


I accept others for who they are. When I stop trying to change people and just communicate how much I value them for who they are, a solid basis is created for relationship. My lack of agenda frees me from trying to manipulate them to change. They don’t have to be afraid to trust and get close. I’m way too busy trying to change me to be concerned with trying to change them. I accept others for who they are.


I know some wonderful people who accept me for who I am. It feels so good to spend time with them. They don’t try to change or shame me. We crack up laughing at the quirks of our personalities. After spending time with them I leave wanting to be more true to the way God made me. When we accept people for who they are, it does not make them want to remain as they are. It makes them want to change to be better.


How do others feel about themselves after having spent time with you?


We act consistent with our view of ourselves. And it is impossible to do otherwise. When I view myself as a loser, I follow a loser script and act like one. Who I am is not a failure even though I have failed at many things. I act in accordance with the part I have accepted, but it’s not the real me. The real me has infinite value. My worth is based on my position as a forgiven child of God. When I truly believe this I will act like it.


When we are truly ourselves it is magnificent and holy. As we grow we find our own voice. We begin to trust our own instincts. We value our own gifts and wounds. We accept the fact that we have something of value to offer others. We become more solid.


I love being around such people because I sense their honesty. Authenticity is obvious. They are not pulling from me to build themselves up or to fill in any gaps in their souls. They are not emotionally needy. They are comfortable in their own skin. Their holy acceptance of themselves overflows into acceptance of who others truly are.


I believe we are full of original sin, but that does not mean we are evil, just in need of a Savior. Who I am is not bad. Sometimes what I do is. So those are the things I will work on changing. But we are not to change who we are. We are to celebrate and revel in it. We are to express it and roll around in it in messy ways, like a child or a hog gleefully covers itself in mud with an expression that says, "Look at me!"


When other people call me weird, it says far more about them than it says about me. I embrace my weirdness. I reject the attempts of others to make me conform. When we express that which makes us unique, it is glorious. It is an act of worship. God took special care to make you just as you are. No one else has your combination of gifts, strengths and flaws. What an insult to our Creator it must be when we tear our selves down, or try to be someone else. It is not spiritual. Quite the opposite, it is sinful. Self-flagellation earns us no points with God. Comparing ourselves to others is pointless because we are each a one of a kind priceless masterpiece.


When we devalue our selves it takes our focus away from changing. We are not to change our essence. We need to be our selves. No one else can fill that position, and God would not have made you if you were not necessary. We seek to change some of our attitudes and behaviors, which is easier to do once we begin to accept our true selves.


I ask people to do things that are so difficult. In fact, these things are impossible if we try to do them in our own strength. We need God and His supernatural strength in order to really make change in our lives.


I work with a lot of people who do not really want to change. They say they do, but it becomes obvious that they really don’t. That’s when I tell them one of the deep truths of life.


Shit stinks, but it’s warm.


People will complain that they are in all of this shit. They moan and whine about the smell to any one who’ll listen. Then someone tells them how to get out of it. They say, "No thanks. It’s warm here. It’s what I know. It’s comfortable. I’d rather just stay and complain about the smell and whose fault it is that I’m here."


We call these secondary gains. It’s the benefit we get from the status quo. It’s our reward for holding on to our problems. No one will change until they are willing to give up the perceived benefit of staying the same. As long as I stay depressed and refuse to get better, no one will expect much from me. As long as I remain a victim, I don’t have to take responsibility. As long as I’m sick, people feel sorry for me. Where is my motivation for change in that?


What are you doing to ensure that you won’t get better?


Do you really want to change, or do you want to just keep talking about how much you really want to change?


What are the rewards you are gaining from holding on to your problems?


You will change when it hurts too much to not change.


What’s that smell?

Self Talk

I am a child of God. I am valuable. I will get better. I can make it. I am not a failure. God loves me. I will take better care of myself. I can learn new skills. I have a lot to offer. What other people think of me doesn't matter. What God thinks of me does. Life is worth living. I make mistakes, I am not a mistake. There are people who need what only I can offer. I can relax. I can let go of this. I have nothing to prove. I am totally forgiven. I will never take my own life. I accept who I am. I am deeply loved. I am at peace. I will succeed. I forgive myself. I accept Gods' grace and today I will rest in Him. I will make better choices. I don't have to be perfect. I am making progress. I am learning, growing and healing. I will meet my responsibilities, and take responsibility for my behavior. I am not a victim. I accept that life is not fair. I have come too far in my progress to go backward. I will discern who is trustworthy. What other people think of me is none of my business. I celebrate who I am. I will control myself, not other people. I find freedom in service, victory in surrender and new life in the death of the old, self-destructive me.

For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11