There are times I've considered hiding clues in different places around the earth telling someone in the future that I was there... with the hopes that the person would have a TARDIS and could come to that point in time and visit me from the future.
It's funny how much of a phenomenon Doctor Who is around the globe. I've been more than a fan since the 1970s. I say, "more than a fan" because it has saved my life on more than one occasion -- literally.
I used to pray that I could have a TARDIS to take me away from the world around me. I was never happy as a child... I'm not always thrilled with life as an adult if the truth be known. I know God on a personal level these days so I am filled with hope for the life to come ... it keeps me going. But I've always searched for my purpose in life... searched for something more by helping people on a massive scale.
I used to write stories (and still do from time to time) involving myself and a few others in adventures around the universe. I actually pulled in a number of different plots, television shows and movies into one huge adventure that I called life. There were times when that life was more real and more important to me than the one I lived.
Who knows... perhaps now that I'm actually putting text out into cyberspace, someone from the far future will see this and show up to help me see life in a different way.
This past Christmas I bought a small charm for my phone (I actually bought one for a friend and liked it so much that I bought it for myself). It's a small TARDIS that rotates with blue lights whenever I get a message or the phone rings.
I think I did all this so that I wouldn't be lonely. Maybe I need to continue writing... not that it will solve my problems, but there is a sense that the loneliness subsides when I'm in the other world with the Doctor and friends saving people around the universe in multiple times and places.
So here I am Doctor. at 11:03 pm in Columbus, Ohio. I could use a visit tonight.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Time Flies - Almost Two Years
It has almost been two years since my son's passing.
I'm amazed at how certain periods of time are crystalized in your mind like a perfect diamond. December 13th 2007...very early in the morning. My phone had been on vibrate and when it rang, it vibrated off the shelf and into a pile of laundry.
The voicemail was my son's saying he loved me and saying goodbye.
I can hear his voice in my head to this day. I remember with vivid clarity the laundry basket of clothes... and then nothing until I was outside of his apartment. The police and emergency squad had arrived before me and taken Richie to OSU Hospital's emergency room.
His funeral was the coldest day in living memory.
His life ... I still celebrate.
I'm amazed at how certain periods of time are crystalized in your mind like a perfect diamond. December 13th 2007...very early in the morning. My phone had been on vibrate and when it rang, it vibrated off the shelf and into a pile of laundry.
The voicemail was my son's saying he loved me and saying goodbye.
I can hear his voice in my head to this day. I remember with vivid clarity the laundry basket of clothes... and then nothing until I was outside of his apartment. The police and emergency squad had arrived before me and taken Richie to OSU Hospital's emergency room.
His funeral was the coldest day in living memory.
His life ... I still celebrate.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Best Vacation is The Past
Last Sunday one of our Pastor's, Chris Old, was talking about his son at the emergency room just the night before.
Two memories sprung to mind as a result of his stories:
The First Story:
When I first adopted my son, we had a very special night once a week ... just the two of us. We'd order pizza and we'd sit together on the couch and watch a movie or Buffy the Vampire Slayer (our favorite show to watch together).
Richie would sit there and often grab onto my hand just hold on for part of the movie. We never talked about it but it seemed to provide him with some comfort. He'd sit close ... I can only imagine for him that it was that physical reassurance that I was there and not going to leave him.
Years later I remember holding on to his hand in the hospital room... if I held on enough he wouldn't leave me either. But he did.
Sometimes at Church the Pastor or speaker would ask us to hold the hands of the people next to us for a final prayer. There are times when that action almost brings me to tears. No one held my hand the way my little 13 year old boy did. It's the one aspect of God that I long for... the day for Him to hold me - to hold my hand - knowing that He will never let me go.
The Second Story
When Richie was 16 he had a job at the local McDonalds. It wasn't far from the house and he rode his bike there or sometimes walked.
While I was at work I got a call from a police officer. While riding his bike down the hill toward McDonalds, Richie hit a rock, lost control and hit the front brake rather than the rear brake. This action sent him over the top of his handle bars and into the back of a car's windshield.
By the time I got there he was gone. The police officer was there and insisted that I stick around and answer questions. I insisted that I was going to the hospital right then and he could call me with questions later. I won.
Richie's entire left arm and been sliced up by the glass. In fact we still found glass coming to the surface years later.
The ER doctor was "doing his time" in the ER. His actual field of expertise was optomotry ... I remember because he asked me about his glasses. He had never had to actually sew up someone's arm before and there were no nurses so I stepped in to assist.
Seven hours we were there. The doctor had a rough time of it and I think we counted over 100 stitches. Half way through the doctor wanted to give Richie a break. Throughout the whole process he kept injecting numbing meds into his arm and hand to keep the pain down while he stitched him up.
Richie had to go to the bathroom so the doctor handed him the little plastic jug and we left the room. Soon I heard a pitiful cry from my son, "Pop!".
I poked my head in... he was having trouble getting his zipper down with his right hand because his left arm had to lie still to his side. I snickered a bit at his situation and unzipped him. I stepped out again but was quickly met with another, even more pitiful cry of "Pop!".
He just couldn't operate with one hand. The little plastic jug kept moving and he was having trouble freeing himself from his jeans... if you know what I mean.
There are things you do for you son and you never talk about. This isn't one of them obviously. I started laughing so hard I was crying. Richie started laughing but it made the urgency even greater.
Pop to the rescue.
No more details needed; however, it was a great story and still is. The one sure way to humble your 16 year old son is to have him need your help to take a leak.
- Douglas
Two memories sprung to mind as a result of his stories:
The First Story:
When I first adopted my son, we had a very special night once a week ... just the two of us. We'd order pizza and we'd sit together on the couch and watch a movie or Buffy the Vampire Slayer (our favorite show to watch together).
Richie would sit there and often grab onto my hand just hold on for part of the movie. We never talked about it but it seemed to provide him with some comfort. He'd sit close ... I can only imagine for him that it was that physical reassurance that I was there and not going to leave him.
Years later I remember holding on to his hand in the hospital room... if I held on enough he wouldn't leave me either. But he did.
Sometimes at Church the Pastor or speaker would ask us to hold the hands of the people next to us for a final prayer. There are times when that action almost brings me to tears. No one held my hand the way my little 13 year old boy did. It's the one aspect of God that I long for... the day for Him to hold me - to hold my hand - knowing that He will never let me go.
The Second Story
When Richie was 16 he had a job at the local McDonalds. It wasn't far from the house and he rode his bike there or sometimes walked.
While I was at work I got a call from a police officer. While riding his bike down the hill toward McDonalds, Richie hit a rock, lost control and hit the front brake rather than the rear brake. This action sent him over the top of his handle bars and into the back of a car's windshield.
By the time I got there he was gone. The police officer was there and insisted that I stick around and answer questions. I insisted that I was going to the hospital right then and he could call me with questions later. I won.
Richie's entire left arm and been sliced up by the glass. In fact we still found glass coming to the surface years later.
The ER doctor was "doing his time" in the ER. His actual field of expertise was optomotry ... I remember because he asked me about his glasses. He had never had to actually sew up someone's arm before and there were no nurses so I stepped in to assist.
Seven hours we were there. The doctor had a rough time of it and I think we counted over 100 stitches. Half way through the doctor wanted to give Richie a break. Throughout the whole process he kept injecting numbing meds into his arm and hand to keep the pain down while he stitched him up.
Richie had to go to the bathroom so the doctor handed him the little plastic jug and we left the room. Soon I heard a pitiful cry from my son, "Pop!".
I poked my head in... he was having trouble getting his zipper down with his right hand because his left arm had to lie still to his side. I snickered a bit at his situation and unzipped him. I stepped out again but was quickly met with another, even more pitiful cry of "Pop!".
He just couldn't operate with one hand. The little plastic jug kept moving and he was having trouble freeing himself from his jeans... if you know what I mean.
There are things you do for you son and you never talk about. This isn't one of them obviously. I started laughing so hard I was crying. Richie started laughing but it made the urgency even greater.
Pop to the rescue.
No more details needed; however, it was a great story and still is. The one sure way to humble your 16 year old son is to have him need your help to take a leak.
- Douglas
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Orphan World Relief -- How It All Began
A few years ago I started Orphan World Relief to begin helping the over 144 million orphans around the globe. But it didn't start there. In some ways it started with me from day one.
My biological mother and father lived in a small Iowa town. She had been married previously and had a little girl. When things went wrong, she moved home and my mother met my father and... well, you know what happened. It's a boy!
Back in the '60s in Iowa you didn't have a baby without being married so my biological mother was shipped off to the other side of the state until I was born.
My parents, the ones who raised me, were a military couple living nearby. They had a daughter nine years earlier and wanted another child. After a series of miscarriages they were told that it would be best not to try any longer. So set out to adopt.
A little over a month after I was born, they got me and took me home. It wasn't until the fifth grade that I learned about the word "adopted". It was traumatic... wet snotty tears (from my mom) and lots of questions from me.
But more about that later.
I was the only one I knew in the world who had been adopted. And it wasn't until very later in life that I learned how wide spread the issue with orphans acutally was.
While I was married (very briefly), I expressed to my wife the huge desire to adopt. Adoption seemed natural to me by that point. But she wanted to have children the old fashioned way first...and we were working on that when she left me for the final time.
But more about that later.
A few years after my divorce the desire to have kids was overwhelming. I wasn't one of those guys who needed the wife -- in fact I had grown to learn how much less complex my life had become without a wife!
Just before the adoption process began, I took my first mission trip to Kiev, Ukraine. The first of many trips around the globe (but I didn't know it at that time). While there, I spent a damp and cloudy day at a park with some homeless boys. We played with them. They wanted to play with my disposable camera and loved the candy we brought. I also shared with them how I became a Christian and shared about my upbringing (starting out as an orphan).
They seemed to take to me. The next day a few of us were walking to visit a local orphanage (there are many). After walking through an underpass I noticed that it sounded like someone calling my name. But this was my first time overseas... who would know me? I spun around and noticed some of the homeless boys -- they slept under the underpass that night.
I couldn't go back to America without making a difference. And although it was 10 years before the formal corporation was formed, the ideas for Orphan World Relief were in my brain and the start of a business plan began taking shape.
And while, at the point of writing this blog, we're still waiting for the IRS to approve our 501c3 status, we're supporting four orphanages in: Kiev, Ukraine; St. Petersburg, Russia; Cochabamba, Bolivia; and Nizamabad, India.
It's our tag line, but it's very true: Children Need You
http://www.OrphanWorldRelief.org
My biological mother and father lived in a small Iowa town. She had been married previously and had a little girl. When things went wrong, she moved home and my mother met my father and... well, you know what happened. It's a boy!
Back in the '60s in Iowa you didn't have a baby without being married so my biological mother was shipped off to the other side of the state until I was born.
My parents, the ones who raised me, were a military couple living nearby. They had a daughter nine years earlier and wanted another child. After a series of miscarriages they were told that it would be best not to try any longer. So set out to adopt.
A little over a month after I was born, they got me and took me home. It wasn't until the fifth grade that I learned about the word "adopted". It was traumatic... wet snotty tears (from my mom) and lots of questions from me.
But more about that later.
I was the only one I knew in the world who had been adopted. And it wasn't until very later in life that I learned how wide spread the issue with orphans acutally was.
While I was married (very briefly), I expressed to my wife the huge desire to adopt. Adoption seemed natural to me by that point. But she wanted to have children the old fashioned way first...and we were working on that when she left me for the final time.
But more about that later.
A few years after my divorce the desire to have kids was overwhelming. I wasn't one of those guys who needed the wife -- in fact I had grown to learn how much less complex my life had become without a wife!
Just before the adoption process began, I took my first mission trip to Kiev, Ukraine. The first of many trips around the globe (but I didn't know it at that time). While there, I spent a damp and cloudy day at a park with some homeless boys. We played with them. They wanted to play with my disposable camera and loved the candy we brought. I also shared with them how I became a Christian and shared about my upbringing (starting out as an orphan).
They seemed to take to me. The next day a few of us were walking to visit a local orphanage (there are many). After walking through an underpass I noticed that it sounded like someone calling my name. But this was my first time overseas... who would know me? I spun around and noticed some of the homeless boys -- they slept under the underpass that night.
I couldn't go back to America without making a difference. And although it was 10 years before the formal corporation was formed, the ideas for Orphan World Relief were in my brain and the start of a business plan began taking shape.
And while, at the point of writing this blog, we're still waiting for the IRS to approve our 501c3 status, we're supporting four orphanages in: Kiev, Ukraine; St. Petersburg, Russia; Cochabamba, Bolivia; and Nizamabad, India.
It's our tag line, but it's very true: Children Need You
http://www.OrphanWorldRelief.org
Friday, August 21, 2009
Starting Out
You have to start some place.
Over the years I have found that the best vacation is often the past. All too often I get caught up in this crazy run away world in which we life. I don't stop, as I should, to reflect on this great gift of a life I've been given. I don't stop, as I should, to reflect on the wonderful God who made this all possible. So I thought a blog might be a good way to express thoughts of the past which are rooted in the present.
Some things you should know about me...
~Douglas
Over the years I have found that the best vacation is often the past. All too often I get caught up in this crazy run away world in which we life. I don't stop, as I should, to reflect on this great gift of a life I've been given. I don't stop, as I should, to reflect on the wonderful God who made this all possible. So I thought a blog might be a good way to express thoughts of the past which are rooted in the present.
Some things you should know about me...
- I attack life (both spiritual and physical) with messy abandon.
- I have never owned anything new. My last two dogs were used. My beloved son was used (I adopted him at age 13). My car is used and given to me by my parents. But that's normal to me.
- I love to think and to feel beyond what is safe which causes headaches and heartaches, but it is simply the way I operate.
- We are all blessed (or cursed depending on your perspective) with what normal becomes for us. I was adopted by my parents when I was barely a month old.
~Douglas
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