tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-158757992024-03-24T04:03:42.602-05:00the agent B files...An undercover agent with the department of injustice (outside church walls)Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.comBlogger730125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-8241148749807613582010-05-24T00:05:00.003-05:002010-05-24T00:30:54.156-05:00over and out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILoD7H7gCi2hQk7Ub8klKcSlYZC451HkGyNrjo0wX28ghCthdUTyKhZmpD9xiblCvUmDOF3oXSYfQ_4dtamJ6TskAa3iul0twRv4DU6pZBL_juK_oyvusMnzfeB9RDU_kpjCWbg/s1600/agentfam.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILoD7H7gCi2hQk7Ub8klKcSlYZC451HkGyNrjo0wX28ghCthdUTyKhZmpD9xiblCvUmDOF3oXSYfQ_4dtamJ6TskAa3iul0twRv4DU6pZBL_juK_oyvusMnzfeB9RDU_kpjCWbg/s200/agentfam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474703731298655666" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">This will be my sign-off report here on the agent b files.<br /><br />Blogs are a weird thing. First they were counter-culture, then main stream, and now old news.<br /><br />I started this report file almost five years ago as a means to communicate to anyone out there that might be going through a spiritual desert like myself and family. Instead, writing became more therapeutic than I had expected. Sharing stories of our adventures in the desert while on assignment in a very religious town within a poverty culture backing has healed me more than I knew.<br /><br />And amazingly, a few folks took me seriously. Real live friendships grew from this, as evident of my recent annual gathering in Lubbock, TX with <a href="http://gentry13.blogspot.com/">G13</a> from the Boston cohort of agents...and also with a new friend from Kentucky who recently visited family here in the fair mother city.<br /><br />But as always, the story continues. Just not here. I suppose I'll let the agent b files float around in cyberspace indefinitely or until some googlebot wipes its existence.<br /><br />As for my family, our new assignment awaits north of the US border. We leave this weekend. Over the past twelve months doors have closed for this current assignment while new ones opened wide for our new gig.<br /><br />As for the cast of characters here on the b files...I will never forget them. I had a chance to see Obi-Wan one last time in his new residence in Waco last week. A trusted friend of his and recent god-send in his life (who is currently taking care of Obi-Wan's estate sale) and I drove down to deliver some of his belongings. I can say that Obi-Wan is well cared for and visited by kin folk daily. The Sanfords came by yesterday to say good bye and get a hair perm. What else would you do when you say goodbye? The Tiger and The Bulldog remain in prison for another month or two,so unfortunately I won't get to say goodbye to them.<br /><br />As for you and anyone who's bothered to read this, thank you. Your communication is invaluable.<br /><br />I do not know if I will continue with a new blog someday. But if you'd like to keep in touch and don't already know me, please leave a comment or email secretagentb AT gmail dot com.<br /><br />All the best to you all.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-5674705580874428512010-05-07T22:36:00.003-05:002010-05-07T22:48:49.937-05:00and so it is<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-7huq52L20d_b05NUD5LLN9J6AqocMRFNbGyCeoW2JX_OiAuZ64rtj7lKrd2ld0Noynv2bbiLGHOXdnVC0sFXT60HrQI6YOWbJ9rrFIUqqB-THLZf4vsUXOkKCrQ44nxOp9PTw/s1600/BigBuddyGhost.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-7huq52L20d_b05NUD5LLN9J6AqocMRFNbGyCeoW2JX_OiAuZ64rtj7lKrd2ld0Noynv2bbiLGHOXdnVC0sFXT60HrQI6YOWbJ9rrFIUqqB-THLZf4vsUXOkKCrQ44nxOp9PTw/s200/BigBuddyGhost.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468740694868054002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">It is done. My family and I said good bye to Obi-Wan today rather unexpectedly. I mean, I was thinking this wouldn't have to take place until the day before we headed north in a few weeks.<br /><br />His niece from Waco called me asking to pack a suitcase for Obi-Wan as he is being discharged from the hospital sometime tomorrow and then being shipped to his new residence, a care home in Waco.<br /><br />We brought his suitcase and his requested last supper from Long John Silver. And amidst my cranky children and other routine hospital interruptions, we managed an awkward and emotional hand shake to seven years of friendship.<br /><br />Obi-Wan, you were there to guide me through this seven year period of desert wandering. You hosted many a fried catfish nugget dinners in your dining room. You were there to hold all three of my children the week of their birth. And you were there to share the word of god when I needed it most.<br /><br />Carry on friend. Carry on.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-91574073348583730902010-04-27T22:20:00.003-05:002010-04-27T22:36:21.224-05:00moving<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmKZhXKb8TrYi_P38hPYuC7MwXvnKHLp5xGOLfPlIvEqUkDZPzOcewjRKSgVsgEODz4n7UNRf5tETYnThcDwuktBHLdYjFbvDPMHIzokLvlQQ0anMwJJtF2YydgM7R93BUMHX-g/s1600/letgosoon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmKZhXKb8TrYi_P38hPYuC7MwXvnKHLp5xGOLfPlIvEqUkDZPzOcewjRKSgVsgEODz4n7UNRf5tETYnThcDwuktBHLdYjFbvDPMHIzokLvlQQ0anMwJJtF2YydgM7R93BUMHX-g/s200/letgosoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465025641981321426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">While celebrating Obi-Wan's 93rd birthday at the hospital, I learned that he may be moving soon. Like me, he could be leaving the fair mother city forever.<br /><br />There's even a good chance he might leave before I do.<br /><br />In the words of his niece, this recent fall has really humbled him. He now knows he can no longer live alone. So arrangements are being made.<br /><br />The current plan is to have Obi-Wan moved to a VA-run care home in Waco, the town his niece lives. And another relative of his works at this home so he will have a familiar face.<br /><br />For months I assumed that my departure from Obi-Wan might involve one of us lying in a casket.<br /><br />I guess both of us staring into each other's eye, shaking hands and departing the fair mother city in opposite directions is a better alternative from the CEO.<br /><br />I don't know how I'm going to take that day.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-11393273614754620362010-04-18T22:47:00.004-05:002010-04-18T23:02:30.775-05:00brutal blow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uLdDfoelpuuq6dYC-uwYKRJKhl3VV_oBmw78FORS8IQxow-jTxDYPi0gkgw5V_t7GbsAs7rWSeB6k4kY9PdmO7VYkprxd9WdNIMHqed-hFUVFlWtN92azw1l0f8Yw6JZdyD00w/s1600/facing+the+fight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uLdDfoelpuuq6dYC-uwYKRJKhl3VV_oBmw78FORS8IQxow-jTxDYPi0gkgw5V_t7GbsAs7rWSeB6k4kY9PdmO7VYkprxd9WdNIMHqed-hFUVFlWtN92azw1l0f8Yw6JZdyD00w/s200/facing+the+fight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461693328422928258" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">About 7:30 yesterday morning Obi-Wan's home health care nurse rang our doorbell begging for the keys to his house. He had fallen and said it was an emergency. I handed her the keys and promised to be there as soon as I dressed. I also assumed this was yet another one of his routine falls out between the wheelchair and his bed. Wrong.<br /><br />Sometime after 8p Friday Obi-Wan had fallen out of his wheelchair in his kitchen. Somehow he had gashed his left eye during the fall and thus lost tons of blood. His kitchen looked like a murder scene. Blood everywhere. He must have sat helpless on the floor for nearly 12 hours dozing in and out of yelling for help.</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> And unfortunately, he doesn't remember the fall one bit.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />His nurse called the EMT folks and he was rushed to the trauma center. He received several stitches above his eye. Thankfully, they admitted him in the hospital and is still there tonight.<br /><br />He's doing well and in typical Obi-Wan fashion, he ain't going down without a fight. A major gash in his head isn't going to take him out just yet.<br /><br />But truthfully, his health and abilities are slowing down rapidly these last few months...<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-49634364519318511722010-04-15T21:19:00.005-05:002010-04-15T21:44:11.649-05:00farewell to the king<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBTw9mSQHPmlhwLbbtZis6jJpmOKixSVjo2RQQ9akG4f-BTcaxRnatt16820w1Oi6C59ez0XeKpN84gAKYi606fVk554Nz91FB6qH9z-IgbQ647SMvYJcpg2sfiBDs-ixEBQgkA/s1600/momocirca2001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBTw9mSQHPmlhwLbbtZis6jJpmOKixSVjo2RQQ9akG4f-BTcaxRnatt16820w1Oi6C59ez0XeKpN84gAKYi606fVk554Nz91FB6qH9z-IgbQ647SMvYJcpg2sfiBDs-ixEBQgkA/s200/momocirca2001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460557352217294242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">I had a <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2009/02/return-of-king.html">Momo</a> sighting the other day while cruising the fair mother city.<br /><br />Yes, Momo, the king of the streets, was camped out in his standard beached-whale fashion in front of the old Hot Dog Castle. He's one of the top ten people in town I wanted to get a few minutes with before my departure. I did a quasi-legal U-turn on S 1st and joined him in the abandoned parking lot.<br /><br />No major inspirational exchanges transpired. I got him to hug me. And about 95% of the conversation was Momo rambling about people he might kill after he gets his million dollar court settlement or something.<br /><br />He's definitely someone I will never forget as long as I live. Due to years of glue sniffing, Momo's lost just enough brain cells to be slightly nuts. But he has enough brain cells left to use his "crazy homeless guy" persona as a manipulative weapon. I'm convinced half of his persona is an act. He deserves an oscar for his performances in front of the post office years ago.<br /><br />Or like the time he took a shower at our ministry's facility and he'd go walking around the hallways half naked with a towel exposing a partial wet butt crack and asking for toothe paste or something. Classic.<br /><br />I'm going to miss you Momo. May the lord bless you and keep you.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-56160104628583499082010-04-10T23:22:00.005-05:002010-04-10T23:53:34.875-05:00Junior and Johnny<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYk7l2Fypdc-mYfmpwrl3XE3F5w-qYqXMOXlvVPgXm7jZyBI6m6RQuAqJJT66il5FOl03fHp6442C7IbmL_UdWCDhjLiMYIqFuD7kb-nvOdDpt3TO-dvvBrWgN2payVMxLeUsEQ/s1600/street-kids.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYk7l2Fypdc-mYfmpwrl3XE3F5w-qYqXMOXlvVPgXm7jZyBI6m6RQuAqJJT66il5FOl03fHp6442C7IbmL_UdWCDhjLiMYIqFuD7kb-nvOdDpt3TO-dvvBrWgN2payVMxLeUsEQ/s200/street-kids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458737067856587282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Recently I have begun a new stage in my parenthood and undercover calling.<br /><br />Our children are not yet school age. So they have yet to be thrown to the wolves that is "the world". You know, learning cuss words, peer pressures and such. Up until now their only friends were the children of mine and my wife's friends. And we know them well so we trust these kids to play with ours, etc.<br /><br />Recently my son Agent Offspring #1 and his sister AO2 met a ragamuffin-looking boy named Junior playing with a kid next door. AO1 begged for me to let him and his sister play with this kid. Reluctantly I let them. But I stayed nearby on the front porch the whole time.<br /><br />At first glance Junior seemed rowdy - climbing up our twig of a tree and jumping all over the bed of my truck (until I gave him a mild tongue lashing). I asked all the identification questions I could. Name age, school, etc. He's 8 and in 2nd grade. My kid hasn't started kindergarten yet. But my kid absolutely LOVED playing with Junior.<br /><br />Junior seemed a little rough around the edges, but he was real nice to my kids and didn't belittle their childish ways. I learned that he had no mother but lived with his father in the rough looking house a block down our street beyond my jurisdiction.<br /><br />A few days later we discovered Junior had a brother one year younger than him named Johnny. The two look like twins.<br /><br />They came to our house today to play with our kids. Or at least, I figured </span><span style="font-family:courier new;">their standing in the flower bed peeking in the window was their version of</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> a greeting.<br /><br />I guess when you don't have a mom, and dad works all day, there's no one there to teach you about door knocking etiquette. So I guess that's my job.<br /><br />Junior and Johnny were wearing the same clothes from yesterday. But that didn't seem to bother them.<br /><br />After my dog gave the newcomers hell, the kids all played in the backyard on the fort/swing set. They must have played for at least two hours or more. I sat in a lawn chair with my face buried in a book. My shades made it hard for them to know if I was paying attention to them or not. I over heard one of the brothers mention that he's seen these forts before, but never got to play on one.<br /><br />Overall, they all played great together. The older boys were not the dark rowdy bad influences I feared. Or maybe my presence repressed that all together.<br /><br />Shortly after Agent Wife made everybody lunch I sent the brothers on their way so my girls could take a nap.<br /><br />I guess the outside world has introduced themselves to my kids. And it wasn't so bad.<br /><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-57702146872058060492010-04-03T12:10:00.002-05:002010-04-03T12:29:46.892-05:00last hurdle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSuoEL5ntjVRd9hLhRJOAAOcfqy3HmWfjwa2FDBam-hgXnVK61GoKH4KZsQHdnTY_7mo6yjFj6IXf-bgXzmwGau-d9xNQZC2VsYYdTPrD8hf9uQhuEJZWfqYp33dLAPss4ZDMIQ/s1600/mightaswellJUMP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSuoEL5ntjVRd9hLhRJOAAOcfqy3HmWfjwa2FDBam-hgXnVK61GoKH4KZsQHdnTY_7mo6yjFj6IXf-bgXzmwGau-d9xNQZC2VsYYdTPrD8hf9uQhuEJZWfqYp33dLAPss4ZDMIQ/s200/mightaswellJUMP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455964707538454258" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Although I do not have a contract or any signed paperwork as of this writing, our home will be sold before we depart to the new assignment up north.<br /><br />Almost a month ago the Jedi Master put me in contact with two business partners who are amassing rental houses for retirement income. They hope to one day have a total around forty houses. My investigations of public tax records show they currently have about nine or ten. I've met with them at least twice and they give me no reason to suspect that this deal would not go through, so I am planning my last two months in the fair mother city accordingly: saying goodbye to people, enjoying things locally and NOT remodeling my home. Thank you CEO!<br /><br />Not to mention...we will now have a small wad of cash in the bank in hopes to purchase a home in the new location. Along with having no debts, money in the bank may be our only card to play in securing a new mortgage since we a) have no credit in Canada and b) no jobs (yet).<br /><br />On the local front lines: Obi-Wan was in the hospital again recently. He had been suffering some major pains in his arm and shoulder. Friends worried that it might be a heart attack convinced him to call the ambulance. Thankfully, his problem was only Gout, so he returned home before nightfall.<br /><br />Coincidentally, I had a dream last night that Obi-Wan had passed away recently and his funeral was already arranged. I find it wise to pay attention to dreams as they can often indicate communications from the CEO. But as we all know, dreams can be a bunch of nonsense as well. Who knows.<br /><br />And Agent Wife has been hanging with Mandy a lot. In addition to her crazy health ordeals she is now facing serious marital ordeals.<br /><br />We seem to have our hands full during our final weeks. So it goes.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-47096791220569527342010-03-09T21:08:00.003-06:002010-03-09T21:26:53.616-06:00ain't over til it's over<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZimMWeZ5Mo-J_rdpRkey1NQ1V_JJYKq2hnr_iWIOa8BIfQhGmbQMnIi1vypdmDuM4mbwVgIsay9p2sJv6B7qWp8yeJJcrGmeC1XkyIU2j1ImztOGHZ8f7rUcZIm8UIXbSmhIMrw/s1600-h/Flo+Nightingale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZimMWeZ5Mo-J_rdpRkey1NQ1V_JJYKq2hnr_iWIOa8BIfQhGmbQMnIi1vypdmDuM4mbwVgIsay9p2sJv6B7qWp8yeJJcrGmeC1XkyIU2j1ImztOGHZ8f7rUcZIm8UIXbSmhIMrw/s200/Flo+Nightingale.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446840481482043298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">In the twilight days of our assignment here in the fair mother city within our undisclosed neighborhood we call home, a new neighbor need has arisen.<br /><br />Mandy is a 24-year old wife of a military man and the mom of 2-year old Jaden. They are the closest thing to young white middle class yuppies on our street (and that's because in the fair mother city, if you're in your twenties or thirties and actually make money, you're probably in the air force). Mandy and her family moved across the street about two years ago, but we've only begun to know her in the last six months. We didn't meet Mandy any sooner because her husband is often deployed and so she'd close up her house and move back with her mother in Missouri several times a year.<br /><br />This time her husband is deployed and she stayed here. But as soon as he left, she began having serious health issues involving her gall bladder. Agent Wife has spent several hours in the emergency room with her a few weeks ago.<br /><br />Due to some bullshit involving the ever wonderful US health care system and her military health coverage, she has been passed back and forth from the local hospital and the military doctors. After two weeks she is finally scheduled for out patient surgery sometime later this month, but in waiting for it she often has severe bouts of pain. Or the effects of her pain meds make her extremely loopy.<br /><br />Agent Wife has often been on call to be with her throughout the night or just for a few hours. And thankfully I haven't had work so I've been able to watch her kid along with my three.<br /><br />I am thankful for Agent Wife's selfless devotion to Mandy. And despite my bitching about no income and waiting for my flip project house to close this week, I guess there's a reason I am available. So it goes.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-49600734902672339242010-03-04T22:07:00.004-06:002010-03-04T22:20:09.979-06:00towards the end<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEKC5pyOKFU"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdD0hKd9jn6x7YTU-sWOC-51al5E2DEH65mPnumrdX1MCbPg5cEBpHlrltxFQGiQPu-DDb_lGBGDGVQ6kkMeb0f-aqNtT_544BBOXsV-slRja-_VnbtxFuO10SFpUEBfriOz76w/s200/wake+up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444998990260796210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Like much of the US, the fair mother city has endured the coldest, wettest, and possibly longest winter in the 20 years I've lived here. I don't know if it's over yet, but we've actually had some nice weather days lately. And since I am patiently waiting for my flip house to close and have no work for the time being, I've taken the kids out on walks, wagon rides and bike rides.<br /><br />Everyone on the block is coming out of hibernation. So I get to see the neighbors way at the ends of our street who I'm not real close to. Thus, I'm sharing the news of our leaving which is still news to many.<br /><br />Even cranky <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2007/01/mr-buckley.html">Mr. Buckley</a>, donning his new "Stop Obama" sign in his window (that looks like a stop sign), was surprised. So it goes.<br /><br />Thank you CEO for our time in this undisclosed neighborhood we call home.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-88848187017491868112010-02-23T15:16:00.002-06:002010-02-23T15:30:04.596-06:00long journey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCFlprwc95nrv9rKU65ZpK2kBFsaXK6PDWYpDBT45LMx9aeimyJRKCsdw3apQDNrPIg3PT7_KvFrz9gHnXLQfdSJuO1JuBzwS9yp0gtK71_Q7zHBe83jx2-C40yfvfaIBAmC9og/s1600-h/long+road.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 84px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCFlprwc95nrv9rKU65ZpK2kBFsaXK6PDWYpDBT45LMx9aeimyJRKCsdw3apQDNrPIg3PT7_KvFrz9gHnXLQfdSJuO1JuBzwS9yp0gtK71_Q7zHBe83jx2-C40yfvfaIBAmC9og/s200/long+road.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441554275010878242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, my second and most difficult house flip project is scheduled to close next week. I never envisioned the number of hurdles and road blocks that would be thrown my way during this seven month journey.<br /><br />There's been the additional five weeks of un-budgeted time and labor (mostly involving leveling, pier replacing, and sanding the wood floors half a dozen times), the corresponding money drain thus borrowing an additional $5K from the bank to finish this house, multiple inspections and re-inspections from city code people, the buyer's home inspection during Abilene's worst ever rain storm with 70 mph wind gusts, an appraiser concerned that the foundation was faulty based on something I said despite previous inspections and reports, and a vandal break-in.<br /><br />Over all, I am extremely thankful for the entire journey and every trial. Realistically, each hurdle was a minor jump.<br /><br />And the bottom line: the young couple who are buying this house REALLY want this place. And I can't foresee that changing.<br /><br />I am thankful to the jedi master for the training that has led me to this point. And I am extremely thankful to the CEO of the universe who has allowed me the dream of making a moderate living with my hands, at will.<br /><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-5929285710337234032010-01-30T22:07:00.005-06:002010-01-30T22:28:21.385-06:00one by one<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwhVAMJA26dcJCe4K5nK9ibAN4amNniZUQeiFtAruVu1X2K45qdKjNFPiPFJ60MeKkbf6snMQaUOMle5CjosfBz15G1qEzpxRhKOfnsJrABMmFlmfLOC3Sp90BOXQwFGRQElUgQ/s1600-h/onebyone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwhVAMJA26dcJCe4K5nK9ibAN4amNniZUQeiFtAruVu1X2K45qdKjNFPiPFJ60MeKkbf6snMQaUOMle5CjosfBz15G1qEzpxRhKOfnsJrABMmFlmfLOC3Sp90BOXQwFGRQElUgQ/s200/onebyone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432755581504856194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">After my record speed immigration status, I'm not going to act surprised as the pieces of our uprooting and overall assignment change falls into place one by one.<br /><br />First, some dear friends of our <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2005/10/jones-county-respite.html">the Carrs</a> volunteered to travel with us to help move, watch kids & pets, drive, etc. That is a huge blessing.<br /><br />Second, my current house flip project is under contract as of last week. That is a major factor in our move as the sale of that property will finance the logistics of road travel and etc. We are penciling in a date in mid to late May 2010 for the move.<br /><br />Then recently, we heard from one of Agent Wife's cousins in the town we're moving to that their rental house might be available to us by the time we arrive there. Nice.<br /><br />Our final root to pull is selling our residence. I have planned to fix & pretty up the exterior with proceeds from the flip project. Then, hire The Jedi Master and crew to fix/pretty up the interior after we are gone. But a coworker of mine and his wife (long time friend of the agent b files) have a vague interest in buying our house as is for a reduced rate.<br /><br />I could make a few more bucks by prettying up the house and selling it when it's vacant. But it would be sweet to sell it as is and thus walk away from it late May. Either way is win/win.<br /><br />Things are coming together nicely - further proof to me that the CEO of the universe has ordained this assignment transfer all along.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-15777668059638107552010-01-13T20:51:00.002-06:002010-01-13T20:59:50.358-06:00one slip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2i0l-oBs2Xdtmjhw0wPLTzRx3znYXKfciqvPOa1uE3aAxPQ2-6qHSGd77-DAnPZhxxPn6AOoRZ3INy0rvblV74Vhzhnc1ele75K8IbxIY5JesHoTHC3h6Wu9XvUU_AXsdvGN7jw/s1600-h/bigbuddy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2i0l-oBs2Xdtmjhw0wPLTzRx3znYXKfciqvPOa1uE3aAxPQ2-6qHSGd77-DAnPZhxxPn6AOoRZ3INy0rvblV74Vhzhnc1ele75K8IbxIY5JesHoTHC3h6Wu9XvUU_AXsdvGN7jw/s200/bigbuddy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426424706329609250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Had a rare call to duty today during my work hours. Obi-Wan slipped into some diabetic trance due to lack of eating breakfast.<br /><br />Agent Wife called me this afternoon after Obi-Wan's housekeeper called her from the hospital. An ambulance picked him up around 1:30.<br /><br />I was working nearby the hospital and ran over on my break. He's was already back to normal and preparing to leave in the next hour.<br /><br />Turning 93 this spring, Obi-Wan is legless, wheelchair bound and won't go down without a fight.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-87330203144878719392009-12-06T22:24:00.003-06:002009-12-06T22:36:37.008-06:00the testimony files<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVsbMx2gbUhWUE_-V9XEqG0BvSJ_BPZI3I2mU7HQVCwUFP03r_KRSLAErkexeADGRfdQVJCcaTR951bgkwepHDnSbVdmOv4N-MrIE8miGr7Ozb7KLRN1bXUhx-gbz2i7CTEdakw/s1600-h/canada_pol99.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVsbMx2gbUhWUE_-V9XEqG0BvSJ_BPZI3I2mU7HQVCwUFP03r_KRSLAErkexeADGRfdQVJCcaTR951bgkwepHDnSbVdmOv4N-MrIE8miGr7Ozb7KLRN1bXUhx-gbz2i7CTEdakw/s200/canada_pol99.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412348047208523298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">I guess it's no news here that we are receiving an assignment change from headquarters and moving up north. But this week I received our passports back and mine is officially stamped with an immigrant visa. We have until August 3rd (or 3rd of August...got to start getting used to using the day before the month) until it expires.<br /><br />We officially announced to all of our friends, extended family, and vague acquaintances that we are moving. Most responded with joy and well wishes. Others with shock and disbelief, as if leaving Abilene is unfathomable.<br /><br />The little known miracle here, and thus testimony to the masses, is how fast this happened. "This" being my immigration process.<br /><br />We mailed all of our applications, photos, FBI records, and photo copies of our anal cavities to Ontario on 25 August 2009. My visa is stamped 17 November.<br /><br />That's less than three months. This process was supposed to take around twelve months, possibly longer.<br /><br />The doors in our desert period have been closing for the past year or so. And thus the doors in our new calling are wide open.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-35368707801804924052009-11-09T21:33:00.004-06:002009-11-09T21:59:31.867-06:00wrapping up the final chapter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgSCgeo-GMC_Yqk2-VILIBy-8ZrpsxhCzYF3pglTdcBTgQ6U46_I8VHU_PdrT975RVpu7MnQxFAdxbVUbmKEXk14ucZIOXNke4xlSMQsWa_kFrtaFDruuX5ZORoEYr-bHI0hiBaA/s1600-h/idbook.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgSCgeo-GMC_Yqk2-VILIBy-8ZrpsxhCzYF3pglTdcBTgQ6U46_I8VHU_PdrT975RVpu7MnQxFAdxbVUbmKEXk14ucZIOXNke4xlSMQsWa_kFrtaFDruuX5ZORoEYr-bHI0hiBaA/s200/idbook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402319127178054674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Agent Wife recently wrote a letter to both The Tiger and The Bulldog in prison. They are in the same cell block and should be released within a month of each other next summer.<br /><br />They both wrote back. Tiger, always the clown, stated something like, "Can't wait to BBQ with you again...because the food here sure does suck". I can just hear him saying that. Bulldog on the other hand is having a more spiritual change and thus his letter is more down to earth, stating things like, "this ain't the life for me" and "I'm going to change". Wow.<br /><br />*********************<br /><br />Obi-Wan is still Obi-Wan. I don't get over there as much as I use to. I miss our afternoon visits and such. And I really miss our dinners together when he'd cook some meat and we'd bring over something he might eat or might not. It's getting harder for him to cook these days, and he really hates that.<br /><br />*********************<br /><br />The days fly by when working on my current house flip project, due to finish in about 3 weeks or so. If I stopped and looked at my life with the eyes of the rat racers, I should be bored and or ashamed of trudging away at manual labor. But I'm having an absolute blast. This really brings out a dormant artistic side of mine. Although most days don't seem too artsy. But the big picture is: creating something desirable (and valuable) from something undesirable. I love every minute. Every ounce of energy I have is going into this, so it seems.<br /><br />*********************<br /><br />And again...on the assignment change...things are moving so fast that I would be surprised if we are still in the fair mother city six months from now.<br /><br />I recently received a letter from the Canadian consulate who is processing my permanent residence status. It basically stated: "You're in. Send us your passports so we can stamp them with the appropriate visas".<br /><br />I mailed off the passports today. When they come back, I think we should have about 3-6 months to get up there.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-22667470337125266032009-10-20T12:34:00.002-05:002009-10-20T12:43:56.884-05:00new assignment: progress report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7clCJG-cSwpVBNfKtnxe3OfRwwl4DDhfKCxikt8mhhp5bMEz4cn3PQuR_TZ0OPGKon7eZYYtdZA-ShYf28G1AAfhLwes1fpkK-pg8Yt_1WtZEvqK_QgiqmakC9749vYt_2jU3w/s1600-h/sask_flag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7clCJG-cSwpVBNfKtnxe3OfRwwl4DDhfKCxikt8mhhp5bMEz4cn3PQuR_TZ0OPGKon7eZYYtdZA-ShYf28G1AAfhLwes1fpkK-pg8Yt_1WtZEvqK_QgiqmakC9749vYt_2jU3w/s200/sask_flag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394738912369820754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">My Canadian immigration status is progressing quite well.<br /><br />Back in August we mailed in a package of papers as thick as a dictionary. One month to the day we received a response from immigration officials notifying us that the first of two major hurdles was cleared: Agent Wife can sponsor me. Her sponsorship was never an issue in my mind, but I was pleased to hear back about something so quick.<br /><br />Now, my permanent residence request is in the hands of a different office where it could take 6 to 12 months for processing. Whatever happens, happens. But we would love to have our oldest start school there next September and thus be settled in by mid summer. So we are praying for a quick turnaround like the first hurdle.<br /><br />Thankfully, the Canadian government has a track record with me on communicating through any red tape process. It's quite nice. A far cry from Agent Wife's American immigration ordeal ten years ago where we were left in the dark almost two and a half years.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-82242977504637932412009-10-16T06:54:00.003-05:002009-10-16T07:11:37.460-05:00adios, forty-nine cent<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsyxaGkmp1g9VwFIAF2N3v7sgquTLmWz_4HBDIMAumY_PIvf1Jy8dJ1Nv-zhxBx5yH_8IPCDB_877UOID3cBdv8aPdVfxz-038b-_9LrN-2-U05oCe-mdesJLdLrYUHJeg8fBCg/s1600-h/nomofreedom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsyxaGkmp1g9VwFIAF2N3v7sgquTLmWz_4HBDIMAumY_PIvf1Jy8dJ1Nv-zhxBx5yH_8IPCDB_877UOID3cBdv8aPdVfxz-038b-_9LrN-2-U05oCe-mdesJLdLrYUHJeg8fBCg/s200/nomofreedom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393168867610250642" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">My fast-living, heavy drama, and Eminem stunt double coworker Forty-Nine Cent is no longer with us. He broke his parole a few weeks ago in a way that would be impossible to hide from the authorities.<br /><br />Upon learning of his potential fate, both the Jedi Master and myself (and maybe even Chuckie) advised Forty-Nine Cent to turn himself in. He sat on that a while and eventually did so via a scheduled parole meeting.<br /><br />In the six months I've known him, I've watched Forty-Nine Cent go from newly wed to expectant father to getting kicked out of the house to sleeping on friend's couches. Now, back to prison.<br /><br />I honestly wanted to see him succeed in life even if his half-assed work output annoyed the hell out of me.<br /><br />Forty-Nine Cent is one of those guys who doesn't know what truth is. Everything in his universe is a word game and a poker match. Truth is created out of thin air. If he was highly educated he'd make a good lawyer. And by that, I mean a terrible lawyer. He makes excuses for everything as does his mother in his behalf.<br /><br />Dear CEO: if this is the best thing for him, please show him the liberating freedom of truth. And please care for his unborn child.<br /><br />Adios bro. We had good times. And with my impending assignment transfer to Canada, I will most likely never see you again. May the CEO bles you and keep you.<br /><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-666434206329445362009-10-13T21:39:00.003-05:002009-10-13T22:11:12.405-05:00least likely<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIj8c1FTbQwYNUwrJn7qgWvjo7liNpXgSEeI-9zvna_aMo3l9BVCuD-TigzDIs3jwHKEgvSv-1R71aSpnebvp6QCCTvBFNqdFjrgFymHnYQXiC1Do3jjKMSQDLI6tSiQyxiiPOw/s1600-h/instructions.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIj8c1FTbQwYNUwrJn7qgWvjo7liNpXgSEeI-9zvna_aMo3l9BVCuD-TigzDIs3jwHKEgvSv-1R71aSpnebvp6QCCTvBFNqdFjrgFymHnYQXiC1Do3jjKMSQDLI6tSiQyxiiPOw/s200/instructions.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392287077859244818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Recently, I built a deck for the current flip house project of mine. I've never built a deck. I have assisted in some similar projects, but never have I gone solo on anything this large alone.<br /><br />For nearly three days I designed this and labored alone while the Jedi Master and the crew worked at a different job site. Numerous times early on, I threatened to drop everything and join the others. My confidence lacked in this hurdle. And it's more comfortable to be a robot and follow orders in this line of work than for me to a) plan and b) execute with little experience.<br /><br />Overall, the deck (and patio cover) is complete. And although I can (and will) nit pick every last ridiculous detail and unflattering asthetics of the entire project, a professional carpenter would be proud of it. It is very square, very sturdy, and very functional.<br /><br />My lack of confidence is possibly my "thorn in my side" as that guy Paul makes vague references to in the new testament. And I've rarely confessed this: my lack of self confidence is the reason I am not a professional musician today. I never seem to be pleased with my music.<br /><br />But always, the CEO shows me that I can do things my head deems impossible.<br /><br />I have a minor obsession with history books and literature on the subject of mass evil (the holocaust, genocides, child sex slavery, etc). Some would say that's unhealthy. I say it's a healthy dose of sobering reality. Amidst the joys and great freedoms in my western world I refuse to get lost in those freedoms.<br /><br />I am currently reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Searching For Schindler</span> by Thomas Kenneally who also authored <span style="font-style: italic;">Schindler's List</span> in the 1980s (the basis for the Spielberg movie). It recounts his interviews and massive research for his first book on Schindler.<br /><br />I have gathered much about Oskar Schindler that I didn't pick up on in the movie (it's been years since I've seen it). Mainly: Oskar was one royally screwed up human. A failure of a husband, a major womanizer, heavy drinker, and proud swastika wearing party member who screwed and raped the nazis from within by making millions in the black market and manufacturing ammunition duds - he hardly seems like a christ figure to the entire jewish nation. But somehow, he had compassion and extreme generosity that drove him to keep several hundred jew alive and healthy.<br /><br />I've always loved how the CEO of the universe uses least likely candidates to perform important tasks.<br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-57149181002393087462009-08-30T13:50:00.004-05:002009-08-30T13:59:10.309-05:00battlefield<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-B3UrB_dex8&feature=PlayList&p=6E5AB6EF5F7AF5DE&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=21"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwVyDGCgDU72Ckctm6haxgYPaM6NbuSWczopBmTRwT-NmuugxYo0sEbtDMn0CAFlzldQKWoUK219mb1gOA2hcAM7coQHFT-fyoo6XNFmTEqY27ObKX4ClySkzxP3Q6sUA_EPXig/s200/baddest+album+ever.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375832616294404450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">If there was ever a week from hell on the job site, this past week would be one.
<br />
<br /></span> <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <link rel="File-List" href="file:///Users/brianbaggett/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Times;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">I try not to seek out demons behind every bush and/or activity in life as my charismatic church days have taught me. But sometimes I am convinced that there is more than meets the eye in various situations.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">In one way or another, our foursome (Jedi Master, Chuckie, Forty-Nine Cent, and myself) are working on my second flip project. Perhaps I bit off more than I can chew with this one. Over all, we WILL be successful with this house. But it appears to be an uphill battle, which is more than we anticipated before purchase. So it goes. But carry on we must.
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">We were into week three: little visible change, much grueling labor ala house leveling etc., discovered that the lean-to garage is not salvageable – after working on it at least two days, a trio of prostitutes who live down the street soliciting their services to me and the guys, and two of our crew either facing or contemplating divorce.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">Then, during a moment of little production and personal counseling between Forty-Nine Cent (who just received news of his wife’s desire for divorce) and the Jedi-Master, the female trio from down the block start shouting Forty-Nine’s name and flashing themselves.
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">If there was ever a calculated attack from the enemy of this world - that would be it I think.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >Meanwhile, I am thankful for a work partner like the Jedi Master who agreed with me to drop our tools, call it a day, and join me in prayer at my home.</span><!--EndFragment-->
<br />Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-72999012194102739882009-08-22T22:51:00.003-05:002009-08-22T22:56:45.138-05:00fine line<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGhKytbntdM2V5pnMbterbH1rDK82X4Q7kCNUwz6g_8D_lSPqa_uz-5n8f1oIrHfU4l8An8xoKmQw8ie3kRBtLozHqEOe2ZlOz5_EHniTJ3UQYbDCaREejfYIf-1Kq_uuM8OLhg/s1600-h/thin+line.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGhKytbntdM2V5pnMbterbH1rDK82X4Q7kCNUwz6g_8D_lSPqa_uz-5n8f1oIrHfU4l8An8xoKmQw8ie3kRBtLozHqEOe2ZlOz5_EHniTJ3UQYbDCaREejfYIf-1Kq_uuM8OLhg/s200/thin+line.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373002477459733474" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Times;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" >I believe my Canadian immigration status is progressing as fast as it can. We still haven’t mailed in our applications that have been worked on for over a month. I have jumped through every hoop: been fingerprinted by the local sheriff, OK’ed by the FBI and Texas Dept of Safety, bought almost $100 in passport photos, paid $250 to a doctor in Dallas to tell Canada that I’m medically OK, and hunted down a real copy of my birth certificate.</span><p style="font-family: courier new;" face="courier new" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" face="courier new" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" face="courier new" class="MsoNormal">But now the real gymnastics: trying to pay for the application fees. It’s not that we don’t have the damn near $1000 for the application fees (that’s a turnip that might have enough blood in it), but every immigration website runs us around in circles as to WHAT to pay and WHERE to pay it.
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" face="courier new" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">So, we are praying that a phone call to a Canadian embassy next week will solve this.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile, of the handful of people we have shared this news with, it’s not surprising that the smattering of people that make up my family are not excited about our move.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">I don’t know why. I guess it makes sense being that I’m the only child my parents have. But I don’t have hoards of aunts, uncles, or cousins that will miss me. So why stick around anyway I figure. I’m not that close to the people I’m blood related to.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">My mother refuses to acknowledge the subject of our move. She goes silent when it’s mentioned. Not surprising I guess. Silent treatment or subject changing is how she’s responded with everything I’ve wanted to do that was outside her suburban work-a-holic judgmental church-going universe. Which is about 99% of the actions in my entire life.
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">I’ve always wondered if there was any preacher out there who gave a sermon on the fine line between <span style="font-style: italic;">”honor thy father and thy mother”</span> and Jesus’ words of <span style="font-style: italic;">”hate your own parents to follow me”</span>.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">Jesus was being a tad metaphorical with that “hate” part, or so I assume. But honoring and hating are about as polar opposites as you can get.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">I wouldn’t say I hate my own parents. But maybe not giving a shit about their desires for my life is a version of hating them.</p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">*photo by Alexander Dudley - 2004</span>
<br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <o:p></o:p> <!--EndFragment--> Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-55459838748072850062009-08-10T22:21:00.002-05:002009-08-10T22:25:15.840-05:00contemplations<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgJHHylE7IgM4avsrCz0ygjFH_aVBEvBqQIR49C8RU83hk9UcB8xDdwJFYt9aMl0w6se-BYzcKEDKqFDUPq6sUuilbVGiwyzuDYKDptyb7EwamQEsnbbvBsvfRkNNbRhzzG2eNQ/s1600-h/vet+wheelchair.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgJHHylE7IgM4avsrCz0ygjFH_aVBEvBqQIR49C8RU83hk9UcB8xDdwJFYt9aMl0w6se-BYzcKEDKqFDUPq6sUuilbVGiwyzuDYKDptyb7EwamQEsnbbvBsvfRkNNbRhzzG2eNQ/s200/vet+wheelchair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368542053614912210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Sometimes it is difficult for me to continue communicating via reports on the world wide waste-of-time through a blog outlet. Although several real-life events limit my commitment to such an endeavor these days, I also am a big believer that facebook <span style="font-style: italic;">killed the radio star</span>. Thus, such reports might be an online version of spitting into the wind.<br /><br />But where else can I explain that I rarely visit my dear friend, former catfish nugget chef and electric wheelchair enthusiest Obi-Wan. Some of this is based on time restraints. But most is conscious choice these days. Obi-Wan has become more of a griper and gossip than in the past. I really choose not to sit through another diatribe on how <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2008/12/acid-queen.html">the acid queen</a> has wronged him or how <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2007/06/adios-lamont.html">Lamont</a> is the worst son in the world. But I feel guilty of this friendship avoidance. Am I only to hang around through the good times and not the annoying?<br /><br />Once upon a time I would sit and listen patiently. Then later, I would slowly interject opposing, if not contemplative questions and views mildly defending those who have wronged us. Because ultimately, we too are sinners, and so forth. But no avail. Obi-Wan wants the universe to know of those who have wronged him. Or whatever.<br /><br />I have yet to tell him of our assignment change coming within the next twelve months. I think the news could send him towards death. He hates it when we leave on vacation because he “misses seeing our car in the driveway across the street”.<br /><br />Often I wonder about the timing of his life and our exit from the fair mother city. I had assumed Obi-Wan would pass on by the time we moved. But maybe he won’t. I don’t know.<br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-38150989300817037722009-07-31T23:00:00.002-05:002009-07-31T23:03:40.293-05:00so long frieda<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95eJjZp413uYuEyC_M-P_KX5i9Q2KTOh3pMaFYkcWu60fCGFjAMMXkhntZqadQhlpEote9mHx3AgEia8eHP_u9ZKpBZuKg5ghoM8t9MELlxaptgkBg8FLS7ABU901Ry1zMY08Eg/s1600-h/fade+away.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95eJjZp413uYuEyC_M-P_KX5i9Q2KTOh3pMaFYkcWu60fCGFjAMMXkhntZqadQhlpEote9mHx3AgEia8eHP_u9ZKpBZuKg5ghoM8t9MELlxaptgkBg8FLS7ABU901Ry1zMY08Eg/s200/fade+away.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364841078303320082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">In the ever continuing examples of closing doors on our assignment in the fair mother city...<br /><br />The sudden departure of <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2005/09/sanford-son-daughter-son-mexican.html">Frieda Sanford</a>.<br /><br />About two weeks ago, Frieda announced that she and her daughter Jessie are moving several blocks across town by the first of August. Frieda and her long time boyfriend Manuel (owner of the house next to mine) are splitting up.<br /><br />She and her three kids have lived next door as long as we’ve been here. And of course, we knew her, the kids, her sister, and her late mother from the izzy group food pantry days of yesteryear.<br /><br />Living next door to Frieda has been fun. It’s also been culturally interesting and educational for me.<br /><br />Frieda showed me probably the closest depiction on earth of Jesus’ words: sell all you have and give to the poor. Well, she never seemed to hold on to anything for long. Everything was always for sale or given away. Like maybe material possessions mean little to her.<br /><br />And without Frieda’s knowing, she showed me what Jesus’ words of “I was a stranger, and you invited me in” might have meant. She always had some rag-tag group of come-and-goers sleeping in her house. She even housed an abandoned 17-year old girl for a period of time. That girl recently returned for a visit with her boyfriend. I think she’s now 21.<br /><br />I am truly going to miss the backyard BBQs, the Christmas gathering with dollar store trinket gifts for all, the robotic small talk gatherings on her front porch, and yes...even the damn garage sales every two weeks.<br /><br />We got our dog from Frieda’s late mom. The Bossman and I conducted a funeral service for her mother. I feel like an awkward white middle-class member of her family.<br /><br />Her sons The Bulldog and The Tiger hit their culture’s right of passage by moving off to prison a few months ago. Now Frieda and Manuel’s fragile and shallow shack-up relationship has finally ended.<br /><br />So long neighbor. Good times were had. You will be missed.<br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-31805869812826045862009-07-23T18:35:00.005-05:002009-07-23T18:43:37.213-05:00scouting trip: report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOasBaUmssnQugLzmOvFLtZ9aKH3laaXBgu4wmpOkRug5qBjVZQ3nqJGR72XueNfSeIiLlLmyIuIVTXxhpUmTqCcLa6JwycZ9BCLYLp1vAccZvKsks8PeP767Suj5J_7_YcWOjA/s1600-h/dog-river-elevator.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOasBaUmssnQugLzmOvFLtZ9aKH3laaXBgu4wmpOkRug5qBjVZQ3nqJGR72XueNfSeIiLlLmyIuIVTXxhpUmTqCcLa6JwycZ9BCLYLp1vAccZvKsks8PeP767Suj5J_7_YcWOjA/s200/dog-river-elevator.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361803880607062466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Agent Wife, the three offsprings and I recently returned from scouting the landscape of our future assignment from headquarters.<br /><br />You heard it here on the agent b files: we are moving to Canada. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, as they say in the south.<br /><br />This news is still pretty hush hush info. Many of our close friends, family, and neighbors don’t know this and won’t be told until probably new years. Our target moving date is summer 2010, and that revolves around my immigration status. I have begun the immigration process last week.<br /><br />I know: big shocker. The agent family household is moving to Agent Wife’s homeland and the place Agent B talks about all the time. Never saw that coming.<br /><br />Our recent trip was disguised as one of our vacations to visit family in Saskatchewan. And we did that of course. But we spent a week in the region our upcoming assignment, which is three hours away from Agent Wife’s parents.<br /><br />In typical Agent B fashion, the real name of the town we’re moving to will be under the pseudonym <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog River</span>. The real name will be disguised due to it’s very small size (pop 2000) and thus lack of anonymity for secret agents.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKYg7Px8oD0BFT6SBM3ULx8Fl2JseqgPsDmDTbV1T_89xTTwt6DJKnt54VnFYMYiqZ3G_oiFsz8q0FuIWOxyXhznUSxwlcvrpgLYPObCyYY3wDh0Tp8dtik2YVa59XPAAERWwNg/s1600-h/beach.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKYg7Px8oD0BFT6SBM3ULx8Fl2JseqgPsDmDTbV1T_89xTTwt6DJKnt54VnFYMYiqZ3G_oiFsz8q0FuIWOxyXhznUSxwlcvrpgLYPObCyYY3wDh0Tp8dtik2YVa59XPAAERWwNg/s200/beach.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361804317280137698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Dog River</span>, Saskatchewan is a dichotomy of dichotomies, in my view. It is a small lake resort town, mostly filled with wealthy people’s summer lake homes and get-a-way cottages. The average income there is way above the national average.<br /><br />But <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog River</span> is surrounded by several First Nations (native) reservations, which is the extreme poverty culture of Canada.<br /><br />The history of Canadians and their native population is similar to that in the US. But it seems more prevalent due to much recent history and lack of other minority issues that the US is plagued with. There is too much history to mention here. I may write more later as I learn more on modern Native culture in the coming weeks and months.<br /><br />Agent Wife’s cousin Tina and her husband Joe are school teachers in the town. They both are involved with an outreach ministry to the poor that they both have actively volunteered for and sought funding for several years.<br /><br />And Agent Wife’s other cousin John (Tina’s brother) and his wife Jane live there as well. John works for the city of Dog River and Jane is a government employed nutritionist that works directly with the reservations. They also play management roles with the outreach.<br /><br />This outreach (which is currently shut down as they lost their rental unit) is practically run by a 60-something year old native woman named Martha. She gave Agent Wife & I a tour of her home reservation that’s named after her late grandfather who was the chief.<br /><br />I can’t describe it accurately, but the poverty surrounding the native people was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And I’ve been to some mud-hut regions of Africa in addition to West Texas ghettos.<br /><br />There is just some bizarre indescribable hopelessness cloaked over the native regions. I received a very small taste of it during our tour when Martha drove us out to a beach off one of the lakes. Out of nowhere, some gangster wanna-be looking kid comes out of the bushes and asks me for a cigarette. I said I had none. Then asked me to sell him beer. Again, I had no beer on me. He just stared aimlessly and said, “are you SERIOUS?”<br /><br />It wasn’t that I was hit up for smokes or beer. That happens all the time in the fair mother city. It was the location. I mean, we were in the freaking middle of NOWHERE down some dirt road for miles. It was just weird. Hopeless.<br /><br />Anyway, we saw clearly how our family could fit into this town and environment and how the CEO seems to be slowly orchestrating this for years. We are finally about to leave the desert and go into our new calling.<br /><br />Meanwhile, as excited as I am to leave the fair mother city, I am going to spend the next year enjoying everything I can here and embrace this nutty conservative religious culture. I guess.<br /><br />Until then, the agent b files is still up and running as I continue to report of our dealings around Abilene. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.<br /><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-87898364516706027422009-07-22T06:51:00.003-05:002009-07-22T07:00:49.130-05:00addendum: first baptist<span style="font-family:courier new;">In response to the previous post, former fair mother city resident Agent S emailed this to me:<br /><br /></span><div style="font-style: italic;" id=":f6" class="ii gt"><span style="border-collapse: collapse;font-family:'bookman old style';font-size:16;" ><div>Thanks for asking tough questions and holding people accountable. And for being my Abilene informant. I get most of my Abilene news from you. Here is what one of my friends had to say about the Sunday after the vandalism.</div> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div>"At church on Sunday, the focus was on forgiveness and what can we do to help the young man who broke the windows. Phil gave a very moving address to the subject. Several members of our Sunday School class are lawyers and are looking into when the young man will be on trial so we can go show support and compassion to him, as well as see what he might need. I was proud of our church body."<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's always good to report the positive side that won't be in the local paper.<br /><br />Thanks FBC - Abilene.</span><br /></span></span> </div>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-80770536794858849472009-07-11T09:27:00.002-05:002009-07-11T09:31:16.459-05:00dear first baptist of abilene<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RSZ_qTrr8hUCv_pwzMoyyl5gaXuksCtu6ozq7UVTew1BRYbQ_gZd33gVmjc9M5oFbfGcjeo5pA7huqejwfr5h_P6Kvn-wb4i6QpvdBM7vMA9xw1tUAIX5U07Z_MCC1GsUwZyiA/s1600-h/gods+house%3F.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RSZ_qTrr8hUCv_pwzMoyyl5gaXuksCtu6ozq7UVTew1BRYbQ_gZd33gVmjc9M5oFbfGcjeo5pA7huqejwfr5h_P6Kvn-wb4i6QpvdBM7vMA9xw1tUAIX5U07Z_MCC1GsUwZyiA/s200/gods+house%3F.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357210049934837330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Dear First Baptist Church of Abilene,<br /><br />I am so sorry to hear of the vandalism that happened to your property a <a href="http://www.reporternews.com/news/2009/jul/09/church-theater-others-are-hit/">few nights ago</a>. Like the six or seven other downtown businesses, you must feel violated and angry. I know I would.<br /><br />Vandalism is such a self-centered act that should never be condoned by anyone.<br /><br />Thankfully the vandal <a href="http://www.reporternews.com/news/2009/jul/10/vandalism/">came forward and confessed</a>. Maybe he manned up and volunteered this information. Or maybe he was confronted by the law. Who knows.<br /><br />But please, I beg of you. Use this opportunity to practice Jesus’ teachings of forgiveness. I mean hey, the WHOLE city is watching you via these news reports. What a grand opportunity to show the power of forgiveness to those who don’t follow Jesus.<br /><br />I know you suffered a LOT of damage - stained glass that’s not easily replaced and so forth. But really, whining to media outlets about $50,000 to $100,000 of damage doesn’t hold water. The WHOLE city of Abilene knows that this amount of money is NOTHING to you.<br /><br />Nobody is praising this guy’s actions. And I am not arguing to keep him from accountability. The law will take care of that. I mean, a third degree felony and $300,000 bond is nothing to scoff at.<br /><br />But PLEASE, grab this opportunity to teach the city about forgiveness.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*photo by Victor Cristales of the ARN</span><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15875799.post-34761923185623988882009-06-20T17:50:00.005-05:002009-06-21T13:35:35.827-05:00balance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsGc3A8rI__IPBUl4qGjn_kfvo9DpX5rIjXevYuoDgaSWBX2kPIvPkfLPtbtfOSvPRzFrlFA-oQ3i6XIL_gkaY27uhAfOeFaTR18FMErvbZ8UjpPFxwYM9QTnCjV_9H3JPceF1g/s1600-h/monstrosity.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsGc3A8rI__IPBUl4qGjn_kfvo9DpX5rIjXevYuoDgaSWBX2kPIvPkfLPtbtfOSvPRzFrlFA-oQ3i6XIL_gkaY27uhAfOeFaTR18FMErvbZ8UjpPFxwYM9QTnCjV_9H3JPceF1g/s200/monstrosity.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349546228660233202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">As a follower of Christ and as an embedded undercover missionary within the poverty culture, I’ve always sought the balance between wealth and poverty. Between enjoying what you have and giving what you have. Between the words of Jesus and the nonsense of North American middle-class culture.<br /><br />My friend <a href="http://theagentbfiles.blogspot.com/2005/09/shaman.html">The Shaman</a> (formerly of Chickasha, OK and now of the Rocky Mountains in CO) recently wrote of Ecclesiastes in his daily on-line journal. His mention of Eccl. chapter 9 verse 7 and onward in defense of enjoying what the CEO of the universe has given us makes sense. The Shaman uses this verse to follow his words “When we have a real empathy for the needs of others, especially the misfortunate and poor, there is a tendency to have guilt about our own personal blessings and provisions”.<br /><br />Basic gist: have care for those without. But enjoy your bread & wine. Enjoy your wife. Keep yourself clean, and work with all your might.<br /><br />Oddly enough, I’ve always tended to agree with this. I surely enjoy my wife. And wine. And <a href="http://www.victorybeer.com/golden_monkey.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">Golden Monkey</span></a> Belgian triple ale.<br /><br />But I still scratch my head over followers of Christ spending vast resources on gawdy property when the local poor go without.<br /><br />In the <a href="http://www.reporternews.com/news/2009/jun/18/church-aims-to-reverse-mansions-decline/">local news</a> this week, a local church bought the legendary mansion on Buffalo Gap road with hopes of turning it into a public event center and church function shin-dig house. This 12,000 sq foot monstrosity is in grave disrepair so this church is also raising funds to fix it up, under a non-prof outfit. So it goes.<br /><br />This house is so bloated and asinine that even its builders/original owners back in 1983 couldn’t keep it after a few years.<br /><br />The <span style="font-style: italic;">OLD</span> Agent B would have lambasted this church’s purchase without question.<br /><br />The <span style="font-style: italic;">NEW</span> Agent B questions the comparison of enjoying ones wine from god with buying ridiculous property on the hopeful nickel of generous others for repair.<br /><br />And the local poor still get nothing.<br /><br />So it goes.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">* photo by Kevin Halliburton</span></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /><br /></span>Agent Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722186597399802204noreply@blogger.com0