It probably says something unbecoming about me that when Liz went to New Orleans for the weekend, my first impulse was to check the Saturday night tv listings.
TV, after all, is safe. If I invite someone out to do something, I risk rejection. Or not having a good time. With tv, I know exactly what I'm going to get. Even if I will be unchanged for the experience, at least I know what lies in store.
But there's probably a reason why no one ever wrote a book about a guy who watched tv all the time.
Donald Miller may be the author from whom I draw the most inspiration. As I said in my initial post, the existence of this blog flowed directly from a passage from a Miller book:
"The ambitions we have will become the stories we live. If you want to know what a person's story is about, just ask them what they want. If we don't want anything, we are living boring stories, and if we want a Roomba vaccum cleaner, we are living stupid stories."
As a guy who used to own a Roomba, I can testify that Donald Miller is right. Our lives seem boring because we venture too little.
Last night, after three days of watching an avalanche of sports on tv, I finally ventured outside. When I did, I noticed an unbelievable night sky featuring a crescent moon accompanied by Jupiter to its left and Venus shining almost brightly enough above the moon to be its twin.
I couldn't help but think that, just as the night sky 2,000 years ago signified more than a rare celestial event to the magi in Babylon, this once-in-a-lifetime alignment was a message that the same God in charge of it all then still reigns today. As my brother starts six months of chemotherapy tomorrow, it was a message gladly received.
But I would have never noticed it had I not turned off the television and ventured outside.
Today, I took a day off from work.
I spent the morning, predictably, watching tv.
It wasn't a total loss. One of my favorite episodes of my favorite sitcom was on, and I do actually draw inspiration from it. It was followed by some breaking news about which I did actually care.
But after that, at about 11:30, I faced a choice: open a beer and listen to talking heads analyze a bunch of stuff I'd already heard, or go out and do something.
After more than a little hesitation, I did the latter.
After lunch at one of my favorite places, I went to the park and sat in sunny 78 degree weather, beside a lake complete with fountains, landscaped islands and geese hoping to find leftover tablescraps. As I soaked in the warm sun and pondered the world around me, and I thought of all I had encountered since I first fell in love with Centennial Park 13 years ago.
I thought of the all the prayers I had prayed from this same spot over the years.
Thirteen years ago, I prayed for a job. Today, I realize that I've never spent a significant amount of time without one.
Twelve years ago when I was struggling with being surrounded by people smarter than me and living outside of Alabama for the first time, I prayed to figure out who I was, and to find a place where I fit in.
Eleven years ago I prayed here for a girlfriend. A few months later, I found the love of my life.
When my sister came to visit 11 years ago, I sat here with her and silently prayed that she'd find love, and along with it the child she'd always wanted. When she happened to be in town with her daughter five years later, I took them here and prayed that God would bless my newborn niece's life.
When I moved back to Nashville five years ago, I prayed here that I'd finally find a home where I felt comfortable enough to settle down. Five years later, I'm still here.
As I contemplated all these things while praying for my brother and his family from the same spot that I'd prayed for most everything else that's important to me in my life, I was overcome by the sense that I really should come here more often.
And I will, if only I can force myself to turn off the tv.
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