Sometimes you need to ask yourself, "What did I do to affect this outcome?"
Sometimes you have to remind yourself that you're not the only variable in a situation.
Sometimes it isn't you. Sometimes the other person is nuts.
Sometimes you need to try harder.
Sometimes you need to walk away. Sometimes you need to run away as fast as you can and cover your tracks as you go.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
February always seems to suck
It seems every year that February weekends are almost useless. Deer season is over, college football is over, nobody really cares about basketball season, its usually too cold and or wet to do anything at the farm, and even though college baseball has started, I'm relegated to enjoying it by watching on a streaming Internet feed. That being said, the boys of spring have taken the field, and the sweet ping of aluminum bats is resounding through the green carpeted cathedrals of college baseball.
I have an almost spiritual connection to my favorite college team. I grew up one town down the road, and spent many spring afternoons roaming the stands and watching future stars of the major leagues play ball in its pure form, unadulterated by performance enhancing drugs, salaries, and player contracts. I remember vividly how perfect the grass looked, the smell of smoke from grills in the outfield, the taste of hotdogs, and the excitement of getting a player's autograph.
Nobody said it better than John Grisham who completed his undergraduate work at this best of all institutions of higher learning. Here's what he penned: http://www.leftfieldlounge.com/JG.html
My boys are 6-0 and heading into a doubleheader this afternoon. I guess I need to go check the Internet connection.
Hail State!
I have an almost spiritual connection to my favorite college team. I grew up one town down the road, and spent many spring afternoons roaming the stands and watching future stars of the major leagues play ball in its pure form, unadulterated by performance enhancing drugs, salaries, and player contracts. I remember vividly how perfect the grass looked, the smell of smoke from grills in the outfield, the taste of hotdogs, and the excitement of getting a player's autograph.
Nobody said it better than John Grisham who completed his undergraduate work at this best of all institutions of higher learning. Here's what he penned: http://www.leftfieldlounge.com/JG.html
My boys are 6-0 and heading into a doubleheader this afternoon. I guess I need to go check the Internet connection.
Hail State!
Monday, February 18, 2013
Your excuse is invalid
I was sitting in the parking lot of a WalMart in a relatively small town Saturday morning to let mom run in and grab something on the way to pick up our tractor to take it to get repaired. It saddened me to see the folks going in and out of the store. I'm not talking about the clothes they were wearing, although www.peopleofwalmart.com could've done a year's worth of postings on what I saw in that 10 minute period. I'm talking about how obese these folks were. I'm not talking pudgy, or saggy, or pot bellied, or husky. I'm talking about morbidly obese people streaming in and out, one after another. It's a terrible epidemic.
I understand how somebody can get that way. I've been pretty overweight myself. After I started using the chair, it took me a while to realize that I wasn't getting the exercise I had before, and I couldn't eat everything I wanted all the time. I hated pictures of me, not only due to the uncomfortability of seeing myself in the chair, but because I just looked fat. I would equate eating a small meal once a week as watching what I ate. Drinking 3 cokes a day and a gallon of sweet tea with my fried foods and desserts was not registering with me as being a problem.
Before
One day I'd had enough and downloaded an app to my phone to track my calories, and what I learned about my eating habits was eye opening. I set a calorie goal every day and stuck to it. I still ate what I wanted, but not as much as I wanted. I cut out all drinks with any calories at all. After a while, I cut my calorie goal and added healthier foods.
I have lost somewhere around 80 pounds over the last 2 years. That's 80 lbs with extremely minimal exercise. If I can lose weight without even walking around the house, I don't want to hear anybody's excuse why they are obese. Exercise is great and everybody physically capable, should do it. However, you can lose weight by putting the fork down. Even the laziest of lazy people can get on board with that. Just be too lazy to scoop the ice cream.
After
I'm not going to pin Mississippi's obesity problem on any one factor, but lack of education, culture, laziness, cost of healthy food, whatever it is needs to be addressed. Obesity leads to numerous health issues such as heart disease, diabetes, bone and joint problems, and a litany of other issues. When I was at my highest weight, my BP was 175/120. I could routinely feel my heart racing and would get light headed. I'm now at 115/75, sleep better, don't have regular stomach issues, am not always tired, and just generally feel better.
The obesity problem costs everybody whether financially, or personally. It's time everybody does something to get healthy or encourage someone else to get healthy. If you can't or won't exercise, at least put down the fork.
I understand how somebody can get that way. I've been pretty overweight myself. After I started using the chair, it took me a while to realize that I wasn't getting the exercise I had before, and I couldn't eat everything I wanted all the time. I hated pictures of me, not only due to the uncomfortability of seeing myself in the chair, but because I just looked fat. I would equate eating a small meal once a week as watching what I ate. Drinking 3 cokes a day and a gallon of sweet tea with my fried foods and desserts was not registering with me as being a problem.
Before
I have lost somewhere around 80 pounds over the last 2 years. That's 80 lbs with extremely minimal exercise. If I can lose weight without even walking around the house, I don't want to hear anybody's excuse why they are obese. Exercise is great and everybody physically capable, should do it. However, you can lose weight by putting the fork down. Even the laziest of lazy people can get on board with that. Just be too lazy to scoop the ice cream.
After
I'm not going to pin Mississippi's obesity problem on any one factor, but lack of education, culture, laziness, cost of healthy food, whatever it is needs to be addressed. Obesity leads to numerous health issues such as heart disease, diabetes, bone and joint problems, and a litany of other issues. When I was at my highest weight, my BP was 175/120. I could routinely feel my heart racing and would get light headed. I'm now at 115/75, sleep better, don't have regular stomach issues, am not always tired, and just generally feel better.
The obesity problem costs everybody whether financially, or personally. It's time everybody does something to get healthy or encourage someone else to get healthy. If you can't or won't exercise, at least put down the fork.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Quest
I'm thinking of going on a quest this year to find the best BBQ pork in the state of MS. I know what I like in pulled pork as well as what I consider the perfect sauce. It's time to broaden my horizons, though.
Amazingly enough, Jackson seems to be terribly lacking in decent BBQ. Everywhere I've been to try BBQ in the metro area seems to be flavorless, without good smoke, and could easily have been chemically flavored, packaged, and then served by a pimple faced 16 year old with no concept of good fatty pork shoulder that's been slow smoked for many hours over indirect heat from any combination of fruit, pecan, oak, or hickory wood.
If you see a place that sells BBQ, and it doesn't meet one of these criteria, keep on driving. 1. It smells smoky in the parking lot. 2. There is an old black man tending a smoker made from an old oil drum. 3. It is sold from a building never intended to be a restaurant, and in a part of town you wouldn't visit otherwise. 4. It is too clean.
Good BBQ should be as much an olfactory sensation as a tastegasm. The smell should compliment the taste. It should be just as delicious without sauce as with. It should be tender, and not stringy. You should see black bits in the meat, proving it was rubbed in the cook's secret blend of salt, sugar, pepper, and various other spices before being slowly cooked over actual coals, being steadily bathed in the carcinogenic clouds of smoke. It should be unctuously moist but not fatty. The bun must be of bleached white flour; not toasted; moist, but not too fragile.
The sauce is a complex proposition. Should you sauce or savor the meat and all it's natural perfection? Should the sauce be vinegar based or tomato ketchup based? Sweet? Spicy? Southwest fusion? Asian? Hawaiian? I'd say that all of those are viable options which should be experimented with based on the eater's mood and personal tastes. I'm a sweet vinegar fan, myself. I've you've ever been privileged enough to try my Rob-B-Que sauce, you've experienced my interpretation of BBQ perfection.
Over the rest of this year, I am going to, with no particular haste, eat my way around the state trying BBQ as I go. I'll report my findings here after I've tried someplace. I'd also like to get comments letting me know if there's anyplace that I should be sure to try.
Amazingly enough, Jackson seems to be terribly lacking in decent BBQ. Everywhere I've been to try BBQ in the metro area seems to be flavorless, without good smoke, and could easily have been chemically flavored, packaged, and then served by a pimple faced 16 year old with no concept of good fatty pork shoulder that's been slow smoked for many hours over indirect heat from any combination of fruit, pecan, oak, or hickory wood.
If you see a place that sells BBQ, and it doesn't meet one of these criteria, keep on driving. 1. It smells smoky in the parking lot. 2. There is an old black man tending a smoker made from an old oil drum. 3. It is sold from a building never intended to be a restaurant, and in a part of town you wouldn't visit otherwise. 4. It is too clean.
Good BBQ should be as much an olfactory sensation as a tastegasm. The smell should compliment the taste. It should be just as delicious without sauce as with. It should be tender, and not stringy. You should see black bits in the meat, proving it was rubbed in the cook's secret blend of salt, sugar, pepper, and various other spices before being slowly cooked over actual coals, being steadily bathed in the carcinogenic clouds of smoke. It should be unctuously moist but not fatty. The bun must be of bleached white flour; not toasted; moist, but not too fragile.
The sauce is a complex proposition. Should you sauce or savor the meat and all it's natural perfection? Should the sauce be vinegar based or tomato ketchup based? Sweet? Spicy? Southwest fusion? Asian? Hawaiian? I'd say that all of those are viable options which should be experimented with based on the eater's mood and personal tastes. I'm a sweet vinegar fan, myself. I've you've ever been privileged enough to try my Rob-B-Que sauce, you've experienced my interpretation of BBQ perfection.
Over the rest of this year, I am going to, with no particular haste, eat my way around the state trying BBQ as I go. I'll report my findings here after I've tried someplace. I'd also like to get comments letting me know if there's anyplace that I should be sure to try.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
The Foundation
I wasn't always living as a non-Republican in the modern South. I was fairly politically aware as a youngster. I knew Jimmy Carter was stupid, and God called Ronald Reagan for advice every night. I was routinely frustrated to see those godless Democrats continually winning elections at the local level all the way up to Congress. I wondered how anybody could support them, not necessarily because of any particular position they took, but mainly because Ronnie Reagan said they were the enemy. Later I learned that the Democrats wanted to take all the money I'd worked so hard for just to give it to some lazy welfare mama spitting out kids just to get a bigger check. In 1994, the new Republican slogan of compassionate Conservatism further cemented me in the notion that it was impossible to truly be a Christian and be an evil Democrat. After all, the Democrats wanted to kill your baby and force you to watch gay men sodomize each other. I was elected Vice President of Teen Age Republicans at my high school, volunteered for a couple campaigns, and voted as Republican as Haley Barbour could possibly have wished. I got my bachelor's and master's degrees in political science and public policy from the best university in the south that I've loved since I was a child. My Republican love affair continued until I was 30, at which time I got an up close, behind the scenes look at the Republican machine at work.
I had been working for a democrat elected official for 4 years just to get my foot in the political door after grad school. He was one of the old southern democrat holdouts, and I went to church with him. So, I had an inroad into my dream career. He was a nice guy, and looking back on my experience with him, it wasn't nearly so bad as I thought it to be while he was in charge. I'm not sure how much is attributable to the rose colored glasses of history or if it was so much better in comparison to what followed.
After a four year term with a not-so-evil Democrat, a glorious new Republican was elected to fill the seat after the Democrat decided not to run again. I was quite excited. I was getting a new boss that didn't have a skewed word view, who was going to right the wrongs, and couldn't help but make things better. Instead, every stereotype those evil Democrats exaggerated and, I was sure, completely fabricated about the Republicans started, not just lurking in the shadows, but parading down the hall screaming and flipping everybody the bird.
I had never witnessed politics behind the scenes as I did while watching the regime change. It is an ugly process. The office got much whiter immediately. It got much younger, with people being hired because daddy was a donor, or they had campaigned. These hires weren't always without merit, don't get me wrong. The best intern I could ever imagine, with whom I still keep in touch, came in the first summer of the new regime.
The Republicans that I had looked forward to taking the reins were mean spirited, closet racist, sexist, lying, short tempered, back stabbing, popularity whores. All of those traits directly led to my walking away after 8 years of doing the job that I loved. It was what I'd gone to college to do. I was good at it too.
Not only did my job experience put a bad taste in my mouth for the not-so-awesome Republicans. So too has the morphing world view that has come about from the daily challenges of being in a wheelchair. The old saying about not being able to understand someone until you walk a mile in their shoes is pumped full of truth. I feel like there are many people that have been blessed with health and money that have a hard time thinking about what life is like for folks with different blessings. The perception, whether there is truth behind it or not, is that the GOP is very focused on cutting off the dregs of society who have gotten lazy and be come takers instead of working hard to be takers. Apparently 47% of us are lazy takers according to failed Vice Presidential candidate Paul Ryan. Is it just a problem getting the message across as has been suggested by Haley Barbour, or is it a problem with the message itself?
My faith also prevents me from continuing to identify with the party of Lincoln. Jesus Christ spent most of his time ministering to the sick, the weak, those that wouldn't be considered righteous. I'm firmly convinced that ministering to these people, be it through government assistance or charitable donations, is one of our primary responsibilities. The real or perceived greed of the party is something I just haven't figured how to reconcile with my faith.
Don't confuse my distaste for the Republicans to mean I'm a Democrat either. My time on the planet has taught me one overreaching characteristic of every human I've ever met. Nobody is perfect. Nobody is all bad, nor is anybody all good. We are walking, talking, breathing perpetual contradictions. My experiences have led me to believe that the political process is broken. While the parties swing left, right, and center, they continually operate in a corrupted environment. Can it be fixed? I don't know. Will anybody try? I don't know. Will it be easy? No!
In the meantime, I'll be an informed outsider living in a fiercely Republican land. I'll be a member of neither of the competing parties, and apparently an enemy of both. But, a rocks glass of single malt and wisps of smoke perfuming the porch, foretelling the unctuous pulled pork sammiches, makes the stress of my politics fade into the background.
Cheers...
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Holy Day
Today is the holiest of holy days for a southern gentleman. Easter? Christmas? Opening of deer season? No, mon frere! It is college football signing day! This is the day when every college football fan becomes both a sports genius and a master psychologist with a direct view into the minds of 18 year old boys. Every man's favorite institution of higher sports is worshipped while the dump of an arch-rival is lambasted for their obvious cheating ways.
How could that recruit your team wanted possibly sign with that other school? Doesn't he know they worship the devil and have gay orgies with people of an unfavorable race??? We really didn't want him anyway. He was too slow... too fat... didn't want to work hard enough... just wasn't (insert school mascot here) worthy.
It's the perfect way to show your school spirit. Teams that signed a great class get to claim victory without ever setting foot on the field of battle. Schools that didn't do so well can say they do a better job of signing kids that fly under the radar and they will thrive in the NFL one day because of the superior coaching they will receive.
Tomorrow begins the long dark period of the year for southern men known as " When the hell does football season start???" Some will pass the time lackadaisically pretending to give a damn about basketball. --Only Yankees and Kentuckians honestly care about basketball, and whether Kentuckians are actually southerners is a huge point of contention.-- Others pass the time watching baseball, which I must say is a sweet distraction from wondering "When the hell does football season start???" It's also mainly a reason to go drink beer with your buddies in the sun and relive that time you hit a triple in Dixie League baseball as a youngster.
Oh well... My school did better than usual, but not as good as was hoped. The rival will surely be stripped of all scholarships and made to disband their athletic department next week due to all of the improper benefits given to their players.
Amen...
How could that recruit your team wanted possibly sign with that other school? Doesn't he know they worship the devil and have gay orgies with people of an unfavorable race??? We really didn't want him anyway. He was too slow... too fat... didn't want to work hard enough... just wasn't (insert school mascot here) worthy.
It's the perfect way to show your school spirit. Teams that signed a great class get to claim victory without ever setting foot on the field of battle. Schools that didn't do so well can say they do a better job of signing kids that fly under the radar and they will thrive in the NFL one day because of the superior coaching they will receive.
Tomorrow begins the long dark period of the year for southern men known as " When the hell does football season start???" Some will pass the time lackadaisically pretending to give a damn about basketball. --Only Yankees and Kentuckians honestly care about basketball, and whether Kentuckians are actually southerners is a huge point of contention.-- Others pass the time watching baseball, which I must say is a sweet distraction from wondering "When the hell does football season start???" It's also mainly a reason to go drink beer with your buddies in the sun and relive that time you hit a triple in Dixie League baseball as a youngster.
Oh well... My school did better than usual, but not as good as was hoped. The rival will surely be stripped of all scholarships and made to disband their athletic department next week due to all of the improper benefits given to their players.
Amen...
Monday, February 4, 2013
Here we go
I guess I should have started the blog off with this post, but... You know. As the title suggests, in broad strokes I'm a reformed used-to-be-Republican that has spent my entire 35 years living, learning, and growing up in The South. I'm a questioning Christian, a politico with a waning desire to remain so, a hunter, a fisherman, a lover of good Scotch, and a traveler in search of the perfect pulled pork sammich. I'm an amateur and aspiring gourmet eater. I worship regularly in the house of college football. I bleed my school's colors and am a third generation of said university.
One aspect of who I am has fairly recently been moved from that category that we all have, the one we suppress, to a new category that is one of reluctant acceptance. I have FSH muscular dystrophy and about 5 years ago it put me in a wheelchair. I fought it. I fought it hard. It's been a slow transition to get where I am now. I'm comfortable with myself; more comfortable than I ever was with myself even before I was rolling everywhere. It surprisingly made life much easier in many respects. It's so much easier that I no longer think about folks looking, staring, asking uncomfortable or inappropriate questions, like the lady on the elevator at work that asked if I dressed myself. I wanted to tell her not to worry about my dressing practices, and maybe she needed somebody to help her dress herself, because I was looking much better than she was.
FSH has sculpted my thoughts and actions in ways that I'd never have imagined as a kid. I had my life mapped out as many kids do, I'm sure. College, law school, married, a kid or two by the time I was 25... Not so much.
I was a fiercely Republican, very politically aware young fella, and as I look back on it, also a very uncaring, selfish person. I think I was nice, but I don't think being nice is mutually exclusive with being uncaring. While I don't see myself as a Republican, the party of God according to most of my Southern Baptist brethren, another group I remain only loosely associated, I'm not sure I'd call myself a Democrat or Libertarian for that matter. I guess I'm in a state of flux in that area.
I'm a Southerner. I can't escape it though sometimes I think I'd like to try. Being from and being immersed in The South is a complex thing. It's the stereotypes that have been over-commercialized and adulterated into some monster truck driving, Honey Boo Boo mimicking, redneck idolizing, thing that suggests there is a total lack of sophistication which has been replaced with ignorance and pride in said ignorance. It's years of racial hatred and something can can be described no other way than pure evil masked at times by religion, but out in the open in plain sight.
It is also of community taking care of each other. It's men showing their young sons how to appreciate the bountiful natural resources we are surrounded by. It's kids swimming in the pond down the road. Its church revivals that last longer than children's ability to keep from squirming and not so quietly asking daddy when it will be over. It's the sound a whippoorwill makes at dusk. Its gardens in the summer, and fresh corn and butterbeans. It's the sound of a turkey's thundering gobble as it rolls through an oak bottom on a frosty morning in early spring. It's family gatherings where there's inevitably a bucket of KFC, babies are passed around, and the whir of pedestal fans are drowned out by laughing and storytelling. Yes, and don't forget gallons of syrupy sweet iced tea.
The thing that holds me here is that no matter how bad it seems at times, it's home... it's family. Family is huge. I've been unbelievably blessed in this regard. I knew and know all 4 of my grandparents well. Their love is as evident as anyone could possibly hope. My parents have been married for 41 years this year and have set a fantastic example for me. Even my extended family is great. I don't have memories of strife between the immediate family at any time. For this, I am very blessed.
There's a little picture of me that I'm sure will be fleshed out over the coming however long I keep going with this. I welcome your comments. All I ask is that if you disagree with me or anyone else, you keep it respectful.
One aspect of who I am has fairly recently been moved from that category that we all have, the one we suppress, to a new category that is one of reluctant acceptance. I have FSH muscular dystrophy and about 5 years ago it put me in a wheelchair. I fought it. I fought it hard. It's been a slow transition to get where I am now. I'm comfortable with myself; more comfortable than I ever was with myself even before I was rolling everywhere. It surprisingly made life much easier in many respects. It's so much easier that I no longer think about folks looking, staring, asking uncomfortable or inappropriate questions, like the lady on the elevator at work that asked if I dressed myself. I wanted to tell her not to worry about my dressing practices, and maybe she needed somebody to help her dress herself, because I was looking much better than she was.
FSH has sculpted my thoughts and actions in ways that I'd never have imagined as a kid. I had my life mapped out as many kids do, I'm sure. College, law school, married, a kid or two by the time I was 25... Not so much.
I was a fiercely Republican, very politically aware young fella, and as I look back on it, also a very uncaring, selfish person. I think I was nice, but I don't think being nice is mutually exclusive with being uncaring. While I don't see myself as a Republican, the party of God according to most of my Southern Baptist brethren, another group I remain only loosely associated, I'm not sure I'd call myself a Democrat or Libertarian for that matter. I guess I'm in a state of flux in that area.
I'm a Southerner. I can't escape it though sometimes I think I'd like to try. Being from and being immersed in The South is a complex thing. It's the stereotypes that have been over-commercialized and adulterated into some monster truck driving, Honey Boo Boo mimicking, redneck idolizing, thing that suggests there is a total lack of sophistication which has been replaced with ignorance and pride in said ignorance. It's years of racial hatred and something can can be described no other way than pure evil masked at times by religion, but out in the open in plain sight.
It is also of community taking care of each other. It's men showing their young sons how to appreciate the bountiful natural resources we are surrounded by. It's kids swimming in the pond down the road. Its church revivals that last longer than children's ability to keep from squirming and not so quietly asking daddy when it will be over. It's the sound a whippoorwill makes at dusk. Its gardens in the summer, and fresh corn and butterbeans. It's the sound of a turkey's thundering gobble as it rolls through an oak bottom on a frosty morning in early spring. It's family gatherings where there's inevitably a bucket of KFC, babies are passed around, and the whir of pedestal fans are drowned out by laughing and storytelling. Yes, and don't forget gallons of syrupy sweet iced tea.
The thing that holds me here is that no matter how bad it seems at times, it's home... it's family. Family is huge. I've been unbelievably blessed in this regard. I knew and know all 4 of my grandparents well. Their love is as evident as anyone could possibly hope. My parents have been married for 41 years this year and have set a fantastic example for me. Even my extended family is great. I don't have memories of strife between the immediate family at any time. For this, I am very blessed.
There's a little picture of me that I'm sure will be fleshed out over the coming however long I keep going with this. I welcome your comments. All I ask is that if you disagree with me or anyone else, you keep it respectful.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Who am I?
I've been pondering this for a while. Is there a central characteristic that defines who I am? Should I be content in not knowing? Should I even care? Whose definition of who I am should I put more weight on? There are a few characteristics I'd like to be known for, but every day the one that takes precedence seems to change. Sometimes I'd like to ask folks what word they'd use if they had to sum me up in a word. But, I'm not sure I really want to know. Sometimes, there is solace in not knowing. I'm sure there are plenty of folks who would sum me up in a word I've never thought of and wouldn't appreciate.
Why should I even care what other folks think of me? Why put any stock in the thoughts of others who are imperfect themselves and only see a piece of me each day? Why not just put my head down and push forward?
As a Christian, shouldn't I only care what I am relative to scripture? Should I comply to scripture as I interpret it? As you interpret it? As my preacher? As your preacher? Wait... Are you Methodist or Episcopal?
I'm not sure what to think...
Why should I even care what other folks think of me? Why put any stock in the thoughts of others who are imperfect themselves and only see a piece of me each day? Why not just put my head down and push forward?
As a Christian, shouldn't I only care what I am relative to scripture? Should I comply to scripture as I interpret it? As you interpret it? As my preacher? As your preacher? Wait... Are you Methodist or Episcopal?
I'm not sure what to think...
Quiet time
What is it? Has it become time in front of the TV? I'm not sure how to do it in my day to day life. Somebody once told me that many of the top executives take 10 minutes everyday and clear their heads, and think about nothing. How do you think about nothing? I've tried in earnest, but when I close my eyes and try to remove all thoughts, it seems like a tidal wave of thoughts come flowing in. How can I turn them off.
There's a level of focus I can't seem to attain. I'd love to try to master meditating. I think it would help in my spiritual life. When I try to pray, a lot of times, I find my mind starts wandering. My prayers seem like they don't go any higher than the ceiling, and I get discouraged, wondering what's the point because I'm sure my feeble attempts aren't worthy of being heard. Even at church, as I try to follow the preacher, I've lost the focus to understand things like grace, and faith, and what it means for me.
Is prayer a Christian version of meditation? Anybody have any tips on how to find my center and clear my head of all the noise?
There's a level of focus I can't seem to attain. I'd love to try to master meditating. I think it would help in my spiritual life. When I try to pray, a lot of times, I find my mind starts wandering. My prayers seem like they don't go any higher than the ceiling, and I get discouraged, wondering what's the point because I'm sure my feeble attempts aren't worthy of being heard. Even at church, as I try to follow the preacher, I've lost the focus to understand things like grace, and faith, and what it means for me.
Is prayer a Christian version of meditation? Anybody have any tips on how to find my center and clear my head of all the noise?
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