An Easter Letter

Dear wife,

It’s been a pretty full week I suppose. A pair of date nights, the worst softball game ever, NBA Playoff watching, new bike parts, and so so so very much fabric in our home.

First of all, I’d like to apologize to you for throwing my bat in the game on Thursday. I know there were a lot of kiddies around whose eyes had to be shielded and/or averted by their mothers so I’m sorry about that. No matter that I’d just displayed the most abhorrent hitting performance at a softball game in human history and blown the outcome in the waning innings, no more bat throwing.

Oh, and thanks for fetching me the Hello Kitty bandage for my cut open knee afterward. I know I didn’t laugh at the time but I was giggling on the inside.

I had a blast with you on Friday night sitting at our little perch at Chuy’s eating and watching all the people walk and bike up and down the streets. We could have stayed there all night I think.

But we didn’t, we went to see Water for Elephants instead. I was very embarrassed about this outing for three reasons:

  1. I had to explain to you that Robert Pattinson was the star of Twilight
  2. I liked the movie more than you did
  3. I ate most of the Milk Duds and Sour Patch Kids we sneaked in

The last of those was the most unnerving too. I know, I know I grew up in a home where I was barely allowed to watch Mr. Rogers Neighborhood so for me sneaking candy and drinks into the movie theater is borderline grand theft…

So it was a good week, well it was a bad week too, but it was mostly a good week. And it’s ending wonderfully. Three Easter services then lunch and dinner with our favorite Dallas friends? So in.

A New Look

Well as you can probably see we have a new-look blog as of today.

It’s not anything crazy, and most of you won’t even notice the biggest changes that were done behind the scenes, but we’re going to continue to add to what we’ve changed and hopefully build something you enjoy coming back to.

I’m writing this post, not to wax poetic about the great job I did in re-designing everything (because it’s not that great) but to give a big thanks and promote the work of one John Saddington.

I’ve never met the guy, and probably never will, but he’s definitely worthy of a day’s worth of blogging.

Continue reading A New Look

On Work

I was reading the first chapter of Acuff’s new book yesterday when I happened upon this statistic:

84 percent of employees plan to look for a new job this year.

What?!

I must have read that wrong. Am I incurring dyslexia at a young age? It must be 48 percent (and even that seems high). I re-read it, again, and again, eight times I re-read it.

Nope, eight out of every ten people you know want a new job, want a better job (one can’t decide I guess and the other is satisfied). That’s staggering to me.

But I think it correlates to one thing we talk about on this blog a lot: that we, as an American people, always want more. More money, more power, more cars, more square footage. The list goes on and on.

I’m not saying ambition is something to be sneered at, ambition is part of what drives people to accomplish great things and change the world, on some level, for the better.

Here’s my take on that 84 percent thing: I don’t think people are unsatisfied in their specific workplace, I think they’re unsatisfied by how much money they make and what they spend their time doing. For example, you could pay me $700,000 a year to stand on a street corner and be the dancing Little Ceasar’s guy and there’s no way I would to it.

You might be saying, “that’s crazy Kyle!” – and you might be right. But to me satisfaction in our work comes not from how bloated our pay stubs are or how prestigious our companies may be.

No, satisfaction in our work comes singularly from whether or not you love the work, whether you’re proud of it, whether or not you find yourself getting lost for hours at a time in it.

If you do that kind of work and have figured out how to get paid for it (even a minuscule amount), well, you’re one of the lucky ones. You shouldn’t be in the 84 percent.

Communal Living

Last night in small group there arose this discussion on community. How do we create a good one? How do we make ours better? Why is it important?

I’ll spare you the details because that’s not what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is this idea put forth by one girl in our group in the midst of the discussion.

She said something along the lines of, “we should be grateful for the houses we live in and space we have for our families because millions of people in other countries aren’t afforded such things.”

I was instantaneously confounded, not by what she said (it’s true), but by this idea that all our lives we essentially work to buy bigger houses and more space for our families.

We get better jobs and purchase larger homes, even when we haven’t the slightest inkling with what to do with all our room.

I guess my question is, why do more American families not live communally? And do families in other countries (heck, other states) live communally because they have to, or because they want to?

I think it’s easy to assume they do it because they have to. That makes us feel better about our unnecessary square footage and mountainous mortgages we have piled up, but I’d like to know what the truth is.

Now we aren’t planning on buying a 12-bedroom home and inviting all the couples from our home group to move in (like these people). That would be madness. I just think the questions need to be asked.

I think it’s important to challenge the status quo even when nothing comes of it in the end. I think it’s important to question what we do and why we do it. I think Jesus thinks so too.

Sunday at the Masters

Dear wife,

I was so proud of you today when you pointed out to Becca that the guy with all the logos on his clothes was Lee Westwood and he is indeed from that country across the pond.

Then I laughed when you tried to rationalize young Rickie Fowler’s multi-colored day three attire by saying, “well it wasn’t worse than Friday’s rainbow infestation.”

Your irrational love for K.J. Choi hasn’t wavered I see as you started quietly chanting “My boy Choi! My boy Choi!” while he ambled up towards us late in the afternoon.

We had a blast downing “domestic light brews” (because Heaven forbid the Masters label their drinks with a corporate sponsor) and trading our thoughts on the last ten groups as we sat in the third row on #16, Redbud as the locals call it.

I showed you Eisenhower’s tree and you spat Tiger stats at me while we trolled the course. Oh, and I’m sorry about my cigar smoke, I know it’s not your favorite.

Enjoy sleeping in this morning while Chad and I cut through the morning darkness towards the course to strategically place our seats so we can enjoy them later on.

I’m enthralled with this day, Sunday at the Masters, as you well know by now. It’s my favorite day of the year and it’s not close. You can’t name five other sporting events combined that I’d trade today’s tickets for.

Thanks for accompanying me to Augusta again this year. I’d come with anyone but you’re always my number one choice.