You probably don’t remember me, but to this day I remember you. Well, I remember a few things about you. Your name’s Matt and you decided to spend a week with me and a bunch of other young nerds at Space Camp in Cape Canaveral, Florida back in the summer of 1995.

This won’t help you much, but I had just finished 5th grade and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to be an astronaut when I grew up. I was part of the Young Astronauts club in elementary school, I was an expert model rocket builder, and I had even watched Flight of the Navigator. I was positive that if there wasn’t an age restriction I would’ve gone up in the next shuttle launch. No joke.

Truth is, I never became an astronaut and I will probably never man a space flight. But I did learn about something even better than space travel and why people don’t throw up in one of these — the world of Dave Matthews Band. I remember those afternoons spent listening to your copy of Under The Table And Dreaming on my Discman and being blown away by it. That album marked a huge shift in my appreciation of music and musicians.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this to you some 15 years later. Well, here’s the deal. I married an amazing woman and it turns out that she really enjoys DMB
too. We are going to our first ever DMB concert tonight and I wanted to express to you my gratitude for sharing DMB with me. Know that there was one little kid who was grateful for the time you spent with them that week and that it is one of the most memorable parts of his childhood.

Sincerely,
Allan

P.S. – Thanks Mom & Dad for making Space Camp a reality for your young astronaut!

I feel like there is something stirring not just inside of me but inside Christianity as a whole. It’s funny to write that though because I’m sure that believers throughout the ages have always felt like they were on the verge of something. Truth is, God is infinitely greater than we are and there is always something stirring around us. We just need the faith to believe that God is at work, the eyes to see how He is moving, and the willingness to go where He leads.

Lord, please give us the faith, eyes, and willingness to follow your lead. Let us trust in you with all that we are and not lean on our own understanding. May our worship of you be done in spirit and truth and may all the distractions of this world fade away as we fix our eyes on you.

A couple links worth checking out:

• Fence Painters or Culture Changers?
• Could Your Church Survive if There Were no Sermons?
• The Great Emergence

What!? You don’t know about magic drawers? I can’t believe it! Everyone should have the pleasure of experiencing this phenomenon! Let me explain with a story…

Once upon a time (all good stories start this way, right?), there was a young married couple who lived near suburbia. Since they lived smack on the side of a major roadway they were fortunate enough to be close to everything they needed and still experience the comfort of an old house that had remarkable charm and character. However, their little old house lacked a convenience often enjoyed by those who lived in nearby suburbia; a washer and dryer. Yes, you may find it hard to believe, but despite having many blessings and many of the comforts of suburbia these two somewhat large appliances were not permitted to be installed in their home.

One Friday, the couple realized that they had gotten all of their clothes dirty and they needed to get them clean so that people wouldn’t be repulsed by the couples’ odor and appearance. They turned to each other and said, “What shall we ever do?” The sink was not large enough to handle all the clothes and the toilet was without a doubt unsuitable for the task. The bathtub might be usable, but there had to be a better way! Alas, it was 8:45 in the morning and the husband had to be on his way to work.

After the husband went on his way (wearing his last pair of clean boxers), the wife was sadly left home alone on her day off. She thought to herself, “I have to do something about these dirty clothes!” She thought and thought and thought some more and remembered back to her college days and how she used to go to a place that had multiple washers and dryers and they let you use them for a small fee. She excaimed, “That’s what I’ll do! I can go to the laundrymat and make our dirty clothes clean!” [Most people call these places a laundromat, but this beautiful woman has a language all her own sometimes and says some pretty funny things.]

Before she could head off to the laundrymat she had to get things in order. First, she had to pull down the laundry baskets and then sort through every piece of clothing to make sure they were in the right basket. After separating them all she had three baskets; one for darks, one for whites, and one for lights. [Keep in mind that the husband typically wears black t-shirts with white undershirts. The dark and white piles were way bigger than the light-colored pile.] Now to get things loaded up. She piled the baskets high and made multiple trips out to her trusty Toyota truck to fill its interior with the worn clothes. She tracked down the laundry detergent and the always essential dryer sheets. Finally, she was ready to go. She hopped in “George” (all vehicles should have a name) and was on her way.

After a quick drive down the road she found the cleanest laundromat in the area. After parking her truck, she unloaded all the clothes and carried them in being ever so careful not to scrape her precious fingers on the door that is just a little too narrow for carrying in loads of dirty clothes. Once she had safely made it through the door she pulled out “Laundry Larry” (a small, green coin purse in the shape of none other than Larry the Cucumber).She peeked inside Larry’s stomach and realized that there were far too few quarters for the task at hand. She breezed over to the change machine and acquired more coins to fill up his hungry tummy. Now that she was fully supplied for her day at the laundrymat she rejoined the dirty clothes in front of the big washers to load them with the dark and white clothes. The light-colored clothing would have to wait until she moved over to the slightly smaller washing machines. After all the clothes had been loaded in and the wash cycles had started she settled onto a little bar stool with her current reading material.

As she sat there reading, she was visited by none other than Miss Chatham. [Before you jump to conclusions and assume Miss Chatham is the owner, let me provide a little more background for you. Miss Chatham is somewhat of a legend around this particular laundromat. She carries herself as though she is a queen and is always sure to greet each patron with a gentle, quiet hello upon arrival. Miss Chatham has a certain liking for milk and the occasional scratch behind the ears. Yep, you guessed it, Miss Chatham is none other than a stray cat. She's not your typical stray cat though. No malnourishment or mangy coat for this one. She truly is treated like a queen and revered by all who visit to wash their clothes.]

After a little while the washers began to stop one by one and the sweet, young wife carefully removed the damp wet clothes from their spin cycle state and placed them in the enormous dryers to remove the dampness from their fibers. Unfortunately, the dryers took a little longer than she had hoped. After seemingly endless quarters the clothes were dry and the final step approached: folding the mounds of clothes.

As she stood there with the warm, dry clothes she realized the dilemma that now lay before her. “Do I fold my husband’s shirts like he does, or do I fold them like I fold mine?” The question of the ages for this couple: How do you properly fold a t-shirt? She paused for a moment and re-trained herself to meticulously fold her husband’s shirts the way he folds them; twice the folds and double the effort.

Finally, after 2 hours of work, it was time to leave. All the clothes were washed, dried, and had the fragrant aroma of springtime dryer sheets. She carefully loaded all of the fresh garments into the same baskets they had arrived in and navigated her way through the narrow doorway back to George, loaded up the belongings and was on her way.

Upon leaving the office for the weekend, the husband realized that this was his last day of clean clothes and that they had to do something about their lack of presentable attire. He decided to head home and mourn the final wearing of his only pair of clean underwear. Upon entering their home, the husband was greeted by his beaming wife who seemed remarkably happy despite their circumstances. With great excitement, she encouraged her dismal husband to check his drawers. No, not his underwear, his dresser drawers. He entered the bedroom and feared the sight of empty drawers; the stinging memory of days gone by when clean clothing sprang forth from his old dresser. Slowly, ever so carefully, he pulled open the drawers. Each passing inch became more and more unbelievable to his eyes. As he finally pulled the drawer all the way open he saw that all his clothes were clean and had been neatly placed back in their drawers. His eyes began to twinkle and he turned to his wife and shouted, “Magic drawers!!! I have magic drawers!” She gazed at him with a huge smile and responded, “No, silly! I went to the laundrymat!”

That, my friends, is the incredible miracle of every other Friday. At this very moment, my loving and sacrificial wife is using part of her day off to make magic drawers a reality for me. I am a lucky guy!