I Almost Forgot

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At an Intersection in My Life

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I was on a ride yesterday when I found myself waiting for the light at the intersection of France Avenue and Old Shakopee Road in Bloomington. I was only a mile away from where I grew up from 1966 to 1975. As I sat waiting for the light, I quickly surveyed the area and noticed that there was very little left from when these were my stomping grounds. I thought to myself that I should come back to take a slow walk around and do some reminiscing. I got up this morning and drove my truck back to the same intersection to have a closer look; my camera in hand. I pulled into McDonald's parking lot and went inside. I ordered my usual: Egg McMuffin, Cinnamon Melts, and a large decaf coffee. I recalled when this McDonald's first opened in the early '70s. Before then, the nearest McDonald's was off Nicollet and I-494. Maybe once a month a couple of us would go there and bring back dinner for our family of eight. I can still remember holding the warm bags of food on my lap fo...
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Losing My Religion, part 1

The first church I was a member of as an adult was Family of Christ in Lakeville. We started out as not much more than a dozen families meeting at what is now Kenwood Trail Middle School off Highway 50. That would've been in the spring of 1988. The church grew over the next few years, and we eventually built on a piece of land in an undeveloped area south of 185th Street, just east of the freeway, where it remains today. As part of the organizational process for any new church, there were formalities we needed to follow, and one of them was officially calling our pastor to the position of Pastor at Family of Christ. Dell had been serving in that capacity for about 4 years, so I assumed this was a no-brainer. But it wasn't. To my surprise, one woman stood up and expressed her dissent with the nomination. I couldn't believe it. What was Kathleen thinking? I was totally oblivious to what had been happening behind the scenes there. It would take a couple more years to fully...
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Happy Easter, a Tale of Two Men, and a Whistleblower Speaks

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It's Easter Sunday. In my previous life, I would have been rubbing elbows with the faithful at Hosanna this morning while listening to a condensed sermon from one of four or more services they would hold to be able to accommodate the demand of the C and E (Christmas and Easter) crowd. I used to love Hosanna—the convenience of its location, the meaning I would take away from the sermons, and the grounds (I used to mow the lawn at the church). I knew it was the right place for me at that time. I wrote about what I felt, and still feel, was a God experience the first time I attended a service there. It's an interesting read if you have the time. But it wouldn't last. Many years later, I would have a falling out with the lead pastor , and that left me disillusioned with organized religion. It's where I remain today. It too is an interesting read.  I still see Easter as a time of renewal; a time to reevaluate my life and consider changes I can make to be a better person. I ...
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