While most of the country is bearing down for the winter, we are enjoying some warm, offshore breezes that lure the locals to the beach. We took advantage of today’s nice weather by driving Decker Canyon to  Neptune’s Net

 This favorite local hangout for surfers and motorcycle riders serves up fresh seafood, along with killer grilled burgers and chicken, and has one of the best views along Malibu’s PCH.

Even if you are not a huge fan of either surfing or motorcycle riding, you can enjoy the people watching. And with hundreds of bikers/boarders out today, we were in luck. We saw some classic Harley’s, some custom choppers, and some long boards ready for action on the small but steady set of waves hitting the shore. There were also lots of families enjoying the nice weather and good food. It’s a place that you can show up in your sweats and Ugg boots and feel right at home in the outside eating area. If it’s cold, they provide patio heaters. If it’s warm, you buy beer. 

Another surprise…fishing boats. Lots and lots of fishing boats. We counted 30 off the beach. The cashier at Neptune’s Net told us that they are fishing for squid.

Apparently there are over 100 boats at night. And they use lights to attract the spawning sea creatures. Normally Loligo opalescens, or market squid, spawn off the coast of the channel islands, but the warmer El Nino waters have encouraged them to spawn closer to the mainland.At night, the lights from the boats are visible from the shore, and hundreds of pounds of these guys are caught each night.

Another plus for the kiddos today… we got there at low tide, so tide pools were awaiting the eyes of the explorers. One fyi…let your kids look and touch (gently) but the animals that live in the tide pools are fragile, and should NOT be removed or disturbed.

We’ve noticed an uptick in small cars around these parts…especially Smart Cars and a variety of hybrids. And, while we recognize a Smart Car is NOT suitable for a family, we want to offer some love and thanks to the folks who have the lifestyles to suit the car and the intelligence to drive them. So, there you go, THANKS — from all the drivers of minivans, SUVs and full-size sedans.

I have found, especially as it grows dark earlier and the fall days carry a bit of a chill with them, that my favorite time of day is when I am standing at the stove stirring pots while the kids sit at the kitchen table working on their homework. It smells good, and there is a warm glow in the room, no, maybe that’s just the effects of the glass of wine that I’m working on.

The kids ask questions about their homework and want advice about things that happened that day. My husband, when he is home early, joins us, sitting at the table and filling in the silence when the kids are into an essay or working out a math problem. He tells me things about his day. He asks about mine. The dogs are asleep in their beds, happy that we are together.

I’m not kidding. This happens almost every evening. Sometimes the kids bicker, the dogs bark and there are tears, where I wish there could be laughter. But together, as a family, every evening, we take apart our days, put them back together and figure out what can be improved upon, what needs to be fixed, what begs for celebration.

And one crucial part of this picture is the food. I don’t believe this part of our day would come together if we were at a restaurant, or if I had picked up fast food. Because it isn’t just the eating of the food that brings us together, it is the ritual of the preparation. Everything slows down when food is being prepared.

I pull them in with the scent of rosemary lemon chicken roasting with potatoes and butter. Or stew, thick with tomatoes, zucchini, onions and beef, the rich scent permeating the entire house. On most days, my son says nothing happened at school when I ask, his backpack still on his shoulders from a long day. But now, a few hours later, he stands beside me, stirring and tasting, doling out tidbits of his day that I savor just as he savors the stew.

My daughter, whom always needs a bit of quiet after school, looks up from her homework and says, “Ok, so I need some advice.” Music to my ears. I feel this is where I can work my motherly magic. I feel this is what it is all for. And it doesn’t matter if she even takes my advice. But maybe, just maybe, some of it will soak in just enough to come in handy for her at some point.

Later, I try to be Zen about cleaning up the dishes. The water, warm on my hands. I concentrate on the moment, the feeling of contentment. But nope, not happening. I don’t enjoy it. I made dinner while my husband sat on his ass. Now it’s his turn. My back hurts, and I’m tired. I’ve done my job, and I’ve done it well. The kids have cleared the table and done a cursory job of cleaning. Now they have retreated. I pour myself another glass of wine and sit and chat with my husband while HE tries to be Zen about cleaning up.

Happiness is different for everyone, but for me, this moment, this is about as good as it gets.

Ok, so I’m like, six days late on being “first” to review New Moon…but it was HARD to 1. get a babysitter that wasn’t watching the movie herself 2. get a ticket that wasn’t already pre sold to said target audience (aka babysitter material) and 3. convince hubby that this would be a great date night…so Tuesday afternoon…five long days after the BIG day, I snuck out for the 2 hours and 10 minutes of bliss I would achieve by entering the world of Twilight.

I’d be fooling myself if I said the movie was better than the book, that goes against everything I know about novels turned blockbuster. But, I admit, it was good. It was better than the first. Some of the scenes were very true to what the book depicted. And if it weren’t for the incessant giggling coming from the tweens to my right, I would have been fully absorbed in the love triangle of vampire/human/werewolf, known to most of the world as Edward/Bella/Jacob.

After ignoring all the vampire talk for a couple of years, I plunged into the series this summer. And like most other fans, finished the series (all 1800 + pages) in a little over a week. I can’t compete with those who got to spend three straight days with Edward and Bella…I had kids to bath and feed in between sessions.

I admit to being a Team Edward fan. Even after Jacob removed his shirt, for the first time, in New Moon.

There is something about Edward, maybe his intellectual demeanor, his witty humor, or okay, I admit, his passion to want to both love and devour Bella, makes him highly attractive and delicious. I know he’s not supposed to be MY target “hero” , but he is, and I am (not really) proud to admit it!

I know I’m not the only one. With the highest pre sale of tickets in history, the movie was a success. Long standing? We’ll see. I was one of 11 movie goers on Tuesday to enjoy New Moon. I’m sure the tweens there were seeing it for the second (or third) time, but we’ll see how the movie holds up to other blockbusters like Titanic and The Dark Knight.

I do know, however, that I will be buying tickets in advance come June, for the third movie in the series, Eclipse. I want to be one of the firsts to review that one. I’ll have to start looking now for a sitter who won’t mind missing the opening. Are you available? I’ll pay double…

I turn 50 the day after Thanksgiving.  It’s not a good thing.

I passed 30—no problem.  Took 40 in stride.  It was fine.  But 50…dreading it, hating it, loathing it.  You with me?  Sense my feelings here?

Don’t get me wrong, it being Thanksgiving and all, I want to be thankful, but I ‘m just sort of not.  So, I began the task of unpacking my emotions, dug through the crud of my psychology and culled out some reasons. I wanted to find those bad seeds planted in the soil that gave rise to my persnickety attitude.

Bad Seed number one, on why turning 50 sucks:  I’m out of shape.   When I hit my thirties, I was a runner and lean.  You could have called me, “Fly like the wind guy,” though nobody really ever called me anything like that.  Point being—I was in shape.  I felt healthy and fit and well…immortal.

I hit my forties having run four marathons during that decade, I was lifting a few weights, I had a three-year stint of vegetarianism (that, by the way, gave way to a western BBQ, bacon cheeseburger one decadent night and the rest…as they say…is history).

I’m going into my fifties plump, winded by the steps up to my bedroom, I have an affinity for carbs (the potato chip kind) and feel magnetically pulled toward the sofa earlier and earlier each evening.  Not so good.

Bad Seed number two:   I don’t have peace in my family.  For my thirties and forties, I was married with children.  I was living the American dream.   As I face plant into the mid-century mark, I’m divorced. On my actual birthday, my ex is introducing my daughters to her new boyfriend.   It seems like I should get to be with my kids on my birthday.  But ah, that is not to be.   I’ll likely be in a dark theater alone, being pelted in the back of the head by a half-chewed gummy bear hurled by somebody else’s kids.   C’est la vie.

The last third of my 40’s found my family reeling from wounds I caused, broken from decisions I made, hurting from disappointment I inflicted.  Though we are coming out of that, forgiveness and healing are still more of a hope than a reality, thus far.

Bad seed number three:  My career is hanging by a thread on the bottom rung of the food chain.   For a 30-year career in ministry,  my responsibilities grew progressively as the churches I lead grew year after year after year.   More impact in the world, more lives changed, more good bestowed, more faith developed….it was one step after another up the rungs of influence.  And I felt good about my part in all that.

Corresponding to that, financial security built.  For 30 consecutive years, I earned more every single year.  I never had a year where either I earned the same or earned less than the previous year.  It was like a delirious, delicious dream.

Because of my moral free fall, I spent the last third of my forties watching financial security evaporate.  (Note to self:  It can disappear fast).  I went months unemployable.

And as I hit 50, I am poorer than I was as a kid, just starting out.

So, let’s review just for kicks:  At 50, I am an out of shape guy, with a fractured family unit, financially gasping and facing the prospect of only about 25 more years on this planet…If I am afforded an average lifespan.

What to do? Like Botox injected into a fallen face, like steroids injected into flabby muscles, it seems I need a major injection of my faith.  You see, my faith suggests that God can work in all the messes of my life and bring about good.  It’s one thing to give God good stuff and ask Him to make better stuff out of it.  It’s another to give Him everything—wreckage and all—and watch Him bring good from that!

It’s what He does.  It’s who God is.  My faith says He will take everything I give Him and bring beauty from it.

So, what would a perspective of faith look like when laid over the facts of my life?

First, my health can be salvaged, should I choose.  In fact, three weeks ago, I dusted off my 24-Hour gym membership and have begun a slow program of cardio and weights.  I’ve lost four of the fifteen pounds I want to lose and actually have begun to appreciate once more the chemical charge of post-exercise endorphins.  Makes the potato chip eating more pleasant.

With my family, I see God’s beautiful hand of healing taking place.  Just yesterday, the UPS guy delivered a box of Birthday gifts from my two adult daughters.   Included was a list of over 35 memories of their upbringing with me.  I cried and laughed and thanked my God for such a personal, thoughtful gift.  Other parts of the box included items of creativity and love.    As a guy who digs being a dad, such a touch from my family was a treasure that surpasses material things.

And on the career front, after two and half years of healing, lots of time with Christian leaders, my counselor and dear friends, it seems God has ‘fit’ me for ministry once more.  I’m beginning again.  I’m in that club that most of us are in:  People of the Second Chance.

So, I’m part of a small group of people starting a new church for people just like us—coming to God or coming back to God for the first, second, third….or um-teenth time.  You  can hear my story on video at www.lifechangecommunity.org

I know this about the new church:  No Perfect People Will Be Allowed!  We don’t have time on this planet to confront nor contend with self-righteous types, squeaky clean types.  They, apparently, already have their collective ‘stuff’ together.  This church is for those of us who don’t;  Beginning Again Types!

I’m profoundly thankful that I came from a place where a few years ago I didn’t even want to live, now to a place of a fresh start with God…a fresh start with family…a fresh start with me.

Yes, I’m turning 50, but that is not the biggest turn.  The biggest turn is from staring at all my loss to facing the bright sunshine of my future;  from failure to hope;  from sadness to gladness.

I am turning 50.

I am turning.

I am!