Top 10 Ways to Risk Your Life on a Suburban Bus

The Suburban Bus is its own universe.  

When you step foot inside the magic hydraulic door, you have entered into a land of unwritten, but very apparent, rules and expectations.  

If you find yourself in violation, you will know it.  Passive aggressive gasps and eye rolls will be launched in your direction and you'll see the faces of normally amiable soccer moms and cubicle-dwelling fathers take on menacing expressions.

I've been spending at least an hour a day in this other-worldly place for about the past 8 years and thought it was high-time I did a public service by peeling back the bus roof so you can peek in.  

Print out this guidance and have it with you the first time you find yourself in need of public transport.  

THE TOP 10 WAYS to RISK YOUR LIFE on a SUBURBAN BUS*

Spoken in the tone of everyone on the bus.  No one in particular.  
Once you're on the bus, you're part of the collective.  There is no individual voice.  

1. Pay Cash.  Only newbies pay cash (for a maximum of 3 business days).  All others have pre-paid cards that get scanned on the way in.  Want lazer beams to come through the back of your head?  Make a line of 10+ people wait in below-zero temps while you fumble around with your crumpled dollar bills.  Jerk. 

2. Talk.  We're ants on our way to the ant farm that is downtown Minneapolis.  Unless we've been working together, or riding the bus together for more than a year, let's keep the chit-chat to a minimum.  Thanks much. 

3. Sit on My Lap.  The bus designer made the seats narrow.  I know it sucks, but try to keep your cheeks in the designated area.  If you do accidentally sit on me (who hasn't, right?), please acknowledge the mistake and scootch back over.  Even if it means you've got a cheek hangin' off into the aisle.  Your Ben & Jerry's obsession ain't my problem.     

3a. Sit Next to Someone When There Are Completely Open Rows Available.  That's just creepy.  If there are 7 urinals on the wall and one guy is peein', you don't saddle up next to 'im, do you?  Same rules apply here - only double-up when you have to.  Perv. 

4. Bring Your Luggage.  We all know you work hard.  Try leaving at least a PORTION of your office at work tonight, OK?  Three-bag Wednesday isn't a tradition where the rest of us are from and we don't have enough room for all of your crap.  

5. Take That Call from Your College Buddy.  Save your energetic reunion for the park-n-ride parking lot, k?  If we don't want you to talk to us, we don't want you to talk to them either.  I'm playing Candy Crush over here and you're messing up my mojo. 

6. Speaking of Candy Crush.  Try turning your sound off, moron.  This ain't your living room and we're all sick of the sound effects.  

7. Try a Breathe Right Strip, Sleepy Head.  It was a long night, you're tired and maybe a little hung over.  We've all got our issues.  But seriously, if you can't stay awake for a 35-minute bus ride, try a cup o' joe on the way out the door tomorrow.  Or at least let us know we can smack you if you start snoring.   

8. Cough & Sniff.  Alot.  "Our favorite thing ever is sitting in a petri dish with you and your germs", said nobody.  Take a sick day or drive next time, k?  Feel better. 

9. Just TRY to Protect the Seat Next to You.  We all know it's comfier without someone sitting hip-to-hip.  Leaving your crap on the spot next to you so we can't sit down is not an appropriate solution.  It's legal to violate rule 3a if you're selfish enough to try to "protect" the space around you on a public bus.  Get over yourself. 

10. Get off the Bus in the Wrong Order.  It's simple.  Folks that had to stand all the way home get off first.  People in the front handicapped spots get off second.  The rest of the bus gets off, in order, row-by-row from front-to-back (think Wedding or Funeral).  If you sat your arse in the last row, that's your fault.  Be patient or risk having Gramma Betty slash your tires tomorrow morning. 

*Note: a City Bus has its own set of rules.  I don't pretend to understand them.  I'm a suburbanite through-and-through. 

Once you silently acknowledge the rules by following them for at least 6 months without a violation, you'll earn the right to talk about your kids' soccer games with folks that look familiar (but only right at the beginning and the end of the ride - see rule 2).  

Feel free to pass these tips along to your friends and family. (and enjoy your commute)

pba. 

Stop Trying to Quit Stuff

Don't know if you've heard, but rumor has it we're livin' in a "broken world". 

Normally when I hear that term, it's referring to something that sounds pretty messed up: physical violence, human trafficking, addiction, Obamacare, etc.  

Our brokenness shows itself in simple ways: we do stuff we don't want to do.  We aren't who we want to be.  So then we work at being who we're told we should be.  And most of us tend to force it.     

I, for one, am a recovering performance-based Christian: one of those guys that talked about faith, but really lived in the land of good-deed-tally-sheets, all while doing my best to hide my own brokenness.  Someone who was inherently judgy and absent of real love.  Someone that was just livin' scared.   

A hyprocrite that spewed religious talk on people while living in shame and fear all the while.  Setting out to "save" those around me in order to lift myself up, not to share a Savior with them (because I didn't really know Him well enough to share Him).  What a crappy story to spend our time writing.    

Note:  don't get me wrong, I sincerely believe we all need saving.  I'm just not the guy that can save myself (or you), so I'm going to stop pretending I know jack or that I've ever been better than anyone else.  Instead, I'm going to tell you I love you and see if you'd be willing to walk the path with me for awhile (for our mutual benefit).  

Hopefully we can both keep our eyes peeled for where we're being led.  (Two eyes are better than one... unless you're a cyclops... or something like that... feel free to Tweet that if you'd like.)

The guy that made me start thinking about loving everybody and taking it seriously, also talks about quitting stuff.  He believes we have the power to quit stuff at any time, so he randomly selected Thursday as a day to quit stuff.   He quits something he doesn't want to do anymore every Thursday.  I love the concept, but when I focus on quitting stuff, I tend to not quit stuff.  I tend to do more of it.  Someone in Romans talks about doing stuff they don't want to do.  I'm that guy.  

Well, lately I've had some stuff I don't want to be doing cease to be stuff that I'm doing - which has been really cool - but it hasn't been because I've willed my way toward quitting something.  

The success I've experienced has been based on pursuing new stories that include stuff that I want to do and be about, not the stuff that I don't want to do.  The shift in perspective doesn't feel major, but it has been transformational for me over the past year+.  

I spent years trying to quit stuff.  It just made me think about the stuff I wanted to quit... and feel weak and small for not being able to quit it.  It wasn't workin' for me <insert nod to Dr. Phil here>. 

If you're good at quitting stuff, pick something this Thursday and quit it.  If you're like me, don't try to quit anything, use Thursday to start something new - use it to take the first step in the direction you feel you're being led - take the step even if you're not sure.  If you focus on that next step, the other crap you've been shaming yourself about might just start to fade away.  I'll give you Wednesday to process.  

p.s.  The new you is gonna be friggin' awesome!    

Lambeau Love

I was born in South Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  In order to get my birth certificate notarized, my parents first had to commit to the love of bowling, beer, and the Green Bay Packers.  

I carried the tradition forward, so my wife and 2 kiddos are all fans.  We watch the games in our living room - in jerseys.  We scare the dog as we jump around and yell at the TV.  We have a set of Packer player Russian Nesting Dolls.  We polka (not really).

That said, I‘m the only one of us that had ever seen a game at Lambeau… until an unusually large number of tickets were available after the Packers beat the Bears in the final game of the season to earn a home playoff game. 

We jumped on the opportunity to cross an item off of our family’s bucket list.  We bought tickets, spent 48 hours game planning our outfits in preparation for sub-zero temps, and road-tripped from Minnesota to the game just in time for the gates to open. 

The Andersons go to Lambeau

 

As residents of a neighboring state, we’re not used to being embraced for our loyalty to the Pack.  We often feel like a bit of a green-and-gold island in a sea of Viking purple. 

At Lambeau, it doesn’t matter if you’re short or tall, fat or skinny, attractive or not.  If you’re a Packer fan, you’re in.  I mean really in.  Strangers talk to you like you’re a long-lost friend.  You celebrate big plays with High 5s and hugs.  You console each other after bad calls or blown plays.  And, regardless of the game’s outcome, it’s hard to walk away without feeling like you’re part of the club – exactly as you are. 

 There is power in an accepting community. 

 I want to be a part of that kind of community every day.  One where we recognize we’re truly all on the same journey, where we’re rooting for (and helping) each other to succeed, and where we console and support each other when times are tough.    

Storyline has taught me how to help form a community that, for all practical purposes, fits that description.  When we recognize that our stories matter, that epic tales are marked by selfless desire and risk, and that pursuing stuff that matters is always worth the conflict that will come, we lay the foundation for some Lambeau-esque love. 

If you haven’t checked out Donald Miller yet, I encourage you to do so.  Your story needs telling and I, for one, am rooting for you.  You don’t even have to like the Packers.

(Miller is a Seahawks fan and we love him anyway)

 

Lessons from a Little ShihTzu

Our 11-year-old Collie/Rottweiler mix, Jamba, passed away a little over 3 years ago. 

Jamba

We were very deliberate as we processed the loss of our pupper:  a family meeting to talk about it, consistently taking time to remember the fun that we had together, and a generous quantity of hugs whenever one of us started to shed a tear. 

We made the logical choice to not replace her.   Kids’ activities were ramping up and we felt like she hadn’t been getting enough attention and exercise because of it, so waiting was the wise thing to do.   

 

 

The decision was made, but each of us seemingly took turns pining for another pup until my wife finally couldn’t squelch the need anymore.   

She declared earlier this year (months in advance), that a very little puppy is the only thing she wanted for Christmas this year.  Period.  End of story. 

I was adamantly opposed, and I had all of the right excuses:

• We agreed to not replace Jamba (no take-backs)
• Too big for the budget (Dave Ramsey said so, kinda)
• Puppies poop & pee (everywhere)
• We don’t have time to take care of a puppy (we still have kids!)
• If we’re getting a dog, I want a dog.  Not a glorified rodent.  

She dug in her heels, I dug in mine.  She said a bunch of stuff about memories for the kids, missing the opportunity to care for a little one, and the kind of impact a pup could have on the fam ("bla, bla, bla").
 

 

I stuck to my guns until, in the midst of a 4-hour stand-off on the topic, I found myself breaking down and angrily stating thru a flood of tears, “I can’t ever experience what I experienced with Jamba again.” 

When I realized the real reason I was fighting, the argument stopped.  


Thru a variety of circumstances, the last year has taught me that experiencing joy is worth the risk of being hurt (and that anything short of real love, doesn’t heal or enable growth). 


Izzy

We got Izzy the next morning.  She’s tiny. 

We dropped a grand to get her and all of her stuff, she smells like a dog, she has peed and pooped in the house, and we haven’t slept thru the night all week. 

My wife is glowing, my kids have giggled in ways I haven’t heard them giggle for quite some time, and I may or may not enjoy playing with her spazzy little self. 

 

Izzy doesn’t take away the memory of being the sole witness to Jamba’s last breath, but she’s helping us write a new chapter in our story and she has reinforced the importance of loving wholeheartedly – regardless of the inherent risks and inconveniences. 

 

Every time her moppy little self gallops by, I think of my wife’s steely determination to love and pour herself into another being and I am, in turn, inspired to pour myself into others as well. 

 

If you’re stuck, struggling, and hurting because Love has seemingly kicked your butt, I encourage you to acknowledge the potential for joy and  to willingly step back into it – knowing that you’ll get hurt again but that it’s worth it anyway.   pba.

The Moaklers are Comin' to Minnesota!

Download some of Steve's music fo' free!

So, it's kind of a long story...
1. Trish and I get introduced to Storyline (May '12)
2. Pete decides to take others thru the process so we buy books in bulk  (Oct' 12)
3. Tim Schurrer, official branding dude for Storyline, sends me a Steve Moakler CD with my books
3a.  Tim and I talk and he tells me he manages Steve
4.  We learn about a non-profit that Tim & Steve are working on called Free the Birds.  (Nov '12)
5.  I buy myself a cool t-shirt for Christmas.  (Dec '12)
6.  I decided to include a video of Steve as part of a Storyline message I gave my church on 12/30/12
7.  We found out Gracie, Steve's wife, started a jewelry business (Miriam Designs) that provides second chances  (Feb '13)
8.  I got Trish a necklace.  She loved it. (Mar '13)
9.  In May, I surprised Trish with an overnight trip to Chicago to see Moakler at this teeny venue.  (May '13 - picture below)
10.  Trish and I jump out of a plane.  I wore my Free the Birds shirt...  which reminded me of Steve & Gracie...
11.  So I contacted Gracie and she collaborated with me to create Trish a custom piece of jewelry.  She loved it. (Aug '13)
12.  We heard about Steve's Fall Tour idea and absolutely fell in love with the idea of bringing them to our neighborhood and introducing them to YOU.
13.  We took a financial risk and made an offer to bring them to town (made the offer last week)
14.  We were just informed that they received over 100 offers and that ours is one of the ones that they have accepted.  

The show will be on Tuesday, October 8th, and we sincerely hope that you'd be willing to save the date and share this experience with us!  We guarantee that you will leave inspired.  

We plan on nailing down the final details for the show within the next 48 hours and selling tickets @ $10 per immediately following.  We're hoping the price point allows you to get tickets for friends and neighbors.  The show is open to anyone that wants to be there and we look forward to meeting some new friends!  

Selling 80 tickets allows us to reach our immediate term goal.  Selling out a venue of about 250 would enable us to meet our obligation AND do some really fun stuff for the audience.  :)

Feel free to email me with any questions @ pba at pbapottery dot com.  Stay tuned for more info soon!

In the meantime, download some of Steve's music fo' free!  

Two Leaps, 14 Years Apart

On August 14, 1999 my wife and I took a leap of faith and both said "I Do". 

We both brought a lot of baggage to the altar and neither of us fully knew what we were signing up for. 

The next 14 years have included fear, joy, laughs, love, tears, peace, pain, and, above all else, growth.  We have been stretched.  And we remain together. 

We decided that it would be fitting to celebrate our wedding anniversary by taking another leap - this time a physical one from over 10,000 feet in the air. 

Gulp.

Having talked about it for years, we decided this was the time to DO it.  We're in the best shape we've been in for a long time, and we're practicing saying Yes when new opportunities that push us outside our comfort zones appear. 

Honestly, the feelings leading up to these two events, separated by more than a decade, were pretty similar:  a potion of excitement & fear that left you a little buzzed all day, every day. Secrecy added an ounce or two of intrigue to the skydiving event (we were the only two that knew about our impending jump). 

We sent each other text messages each day - most of which were only two words long:  "Holy crap!"  (it pretty much summed up our thoughts and it drew a smile from the recipient every time - we couldn't believe we were actually going to do this!)

We were filled with both anticipation and fear.  "What if something goes wrong? What if we chicken out?  What will friends and family think?  Are we bad parents for doing this after having kids?  What if I faint on the way down?  What if I don't land right and I hurt my back?  What if I get the biggest wedgie of all-time when that 'chute opens?"  

I'll be writing another post that gives more details on the nuts and bolts of the skydiving experience, but, for today, just know that our fears increased right up until the moment that our 'chutes opened and we safely (relatively speaking) floated the rest of the way to the ground.   

Weeeeeee!

The fears were replaced with exhilaration and a reassuring wave of confidence after realizing we had successfully done what we seriously doubted we could do.

We spent the next couple of hours having brunch and hanging out in Minneapolis - processing both the dive, and our last 14 years together.  A few things stood out to me as we talked:

1.  We both truly believe that we can face anything - together.

2.  We have spent a lot of time and energy in the land of fear, and we don't want to live there anymore.

3.  As Believers, our parachute has been open the entire time.  We've never been in free-fall.  He's had us covered and we need to start living like it.  How can we possibly attract others to our Creator when we're living a timid faith marked by doubt, shame, guilt, and judgment?  We want to continue to grow toward bearing fruit while having a blast doing it.    

Both a little bit taller.

All that said, I'm thankful that we took the leap in 1999, and I'm thankful for the reminders, and new lessons, that the leap in 2013 has provided.  I love that the Man Upstairs can use all of our experiences to draw us closer to Him.

I don't know that either of us feel the need to jump from another perfectly good airplane anytime soon.  However, we are both looking forward to the next adventure that God has for us - as a couple, and as a family.   

Cheers, pba. 

The General

I had never heard a Russian General speak.  I now know, based on a sample size of one, that they are loud and every word they utter has a purpose. 

The one I heard was retired, but still leading.  He was speaking to the majority of the Family Camp attendees and he was exhorting them to get involved with the work at TCC – to invest their time, treasure and talent to get the facility up to its fullest capacity.  He used our team as an example – indicating that “The Americans” paid their own way and are working on a building that their families will never use while he and his Russian peers attend camp with their families and enjoy the grounds.  He boldly indicated that the congregation has been making excuses to avoid the work for years and said it was time to get their hands dirty and get involved.    

He apologized to anyone he might have offended, handed the microphone back to Pastor Vadim, and walked out of the big tent where the family camp closing celebration was being held. 

His words hung in the air as a few more folks stood up and thanked the kitchen staff and the group of families for a great week.  While I don’t know if his thoughts landed on the hearts of the campers, I know they burrowed into several of our team members.  Including me.

The General enjoying the camp area with his family. 
He was much louder than he looks. :)

I’m still trying to process his words, but there are a couple of things that struck me:

His exhortation could have easily been given to me at home.  What the General didn’t know is that traveling to Russia is easier for me than helping my real neighbor.  Going to a foreign place to do physical work has its challenges, but they are seemingly exciting ones that make for good story.

Helping your unbelieving neighbor or your local congregation is physically easier, but not as religiously sexy or, in many ways, nearly as comfortable.  We cram our lives so full of activity that it’s next to impossible to squeeze anything that matters into it.  As the General said:  we make excuses.



It felt like he understood the heart of our team and it felt good to hear someone that shared a powerful vision for TCC.  Words can’t express the heart-level connection that several of us felt as we heard him speak.  It gave us hope that someone local could step in and keep the momentum going after we’re gone.



That same night, I spoke with Pastor Vadim thru an interpreter and told him how much I appreciated the General’s words and reminded him that our team was made up of unskilled laborers – not concrete experts.  It was a feeble attempt to encourage him – intended to communicate that they have the talents they need within their congregation already.  At the time, I honestly felt like I was either offending him or that my words were falling on deaf ears.  

Over the next 24 hours, the General sought out each and every member of the team to say a personal thank you for coming and working on their church’s behalf.  A firm and deliberate hand shake combined with a thank you in broken English from this powerful personality felt like a significant gift to each of us. 

Before he left, I ran him down one more time to thank HIM for his words and to give him a beat up copy of a team photo.  He graciously accepted the gift as he departed.

While I can’t guarantee that they came based on the General’s words, we had two Russian volunteers on our doorstep Monday morning.  They helped us shovel rock and do the finishing work in the final room of the project.  It was a microcosm of the potential of partnership: Russians & Americans working side by side to pursue impact for the Kingdom. 

With about two wheel barrows of concrete to go prior to being able to call our work complete, we received the news that the General had died in his sleep the night before.  It shifted what would have been a natural celebration of the milestone, to a time marked by some of the most mixed emotions many of us will ever feel.   

At that moment, the words that were planted in my head were clear: “It’s not about you.”  We weren’t intended to celebrate the work of our hands, we were intended to celebrate the work that the Lord had done in our hearts and the ongoing work he’s doing in the lives of His Russian church. 

There isn’t a clean ending to this one.  It remains to be seen how the General’s last words will ultimately land on the ears and hearts of his congregation as well as the ongoing impact they’ll have in my life.  I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to meet him, be challenged by his passion, and look for practical ways to make an impact at home in response.