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Chris Knight's avatar

This has been a scary week at Knight Shift Headquarters.  Very scary.

On Monday, my miniature dachshund Tammy started yelping in pain at the least touch that I gave her.  Especially around her ears.  She’s had ear infections before and they can be a real nuisance.  But she’s never cried out before when I’ve tried to examine them.
Then came Tuesday.  And Tammy took a turn for the worst.
She had jumped up onto my bed that morning, and refused to move from her spot.  She hadn’t eaten anything, she hadn’t drank any water.  She didn’t seem motivated by anything at all.
About noon Tammy laid down near my pillow.  Her breathing was labored.  And as the evening wore on it gradually became less pronounced.  She had this look in her eye, that I’d never seen before.  She looked… I don’t know.  Tired.  Resigned.
I was really in fear of
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In searching around for churches in this area, obviously I’m looking at their websites.  I’m studying a few things, particularly their various statements of belief.  In that regard I’ll simply say this: there are already a number of places of worship which I regrettably cannot enter.  It would be like bringing a blowtorch aboard the Hindenburg.

No disrespect to those places is meant.  I believe they and I worship the same God.  We differ however in aspects of that which while ultimately meaningless, are as unavoidable in this carnal realm as they are indicative of the imperfect nature of the church as the body of Christ upon this earth.

As I was saying, I’m perusing the websites of places of worship.  Looking for certain qualities.  And with the advent of streaming video I’m now able to watch and listen to recent sermons.  Sort-of like the Esper machine: getting to ...

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Every so often Matthew 7:7 comes to mind.  The verse reads (from the New International Version):

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”
 
 It comes to the fore of my thoughts when I think about my own salvation journey.  How it progressed from being a person very angry and bitter toward God, to realizing that He could not have been responsible for what happened to me, to appreciating His beautiful design of the universe, to believing that I could not possibly be reconciled with Him… on until I finally allowed him into my life as my Lord and Savior.
 
(Some people still don’t think of my life in terms like that. I suppose they will always think of me as an “atheist” even though I never truly did not believe in God.  They
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Obviously the notion entered my mind that maybe this could be an installment of the Being Bipolar series (which there may be much more material for coming soon).  But Being Bipolar is more about the disease itself, and is intended to be a resource for those looking for insight and information from someone who lives with that condition.

What I’m sharing now, on the other hand, has less to do with that aspect of my life than it does with others.  Although mental illness is certainly the precipitant.

It was twenty-four years ago this month that the symptoms of manic depression, or bipolar disorder, first began to manifest themselves in me.  At first it was wildly intoxicating, all the boundless energy and creativity that came seemingly out of nowhere.  I was still looking for a job post-college and failing in that but other opportunities were coming to the fore (like ...

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The other week I shared on here that I had put my beloved Yoda puppet signed by “Weird Al” Yankovic up for auction on eBay.  It was something I had never, ever thought I would find myself doing.  I had outright declared that it would never happen.  When I asked Weird Al to sign this, it was always with the intention that it would be just for me, a real treasured prize for both my Star Wars and Yankovic collections.

 
But real-life circumstances had forced me to make some difficult decisions.  It was compelling me to betray myself and go back on what I had promised to never do.
 
Since posting about that, there have been a number of developments.  Some things transpired and, well… let’s just say that for once, I have been seeing the hand of God at work and I am not doubting Him,
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I am not a wise person.

There are many who possess far greater wisdom than I can ever contain in the few cubic inches of mind absent depression or mania.  And those who admit to knowing me will testify, Dear Reader: I have shared many matters I wrestle with on Facebook, hoping that among beloved friends some can lend a measure of that wisdom.
At first, that’s where this was meant to be: posted on Facebook.  But maybe this time I should cast a wider net.  Perhaps some of you who read this blog can provide the answers I seek.
Here it is: Should I want to have children?  Why should I want to have children?
Do I have the right to bring a child into this world?

It is no secret that for the vast majority of my life I have wanted to be a father.  To be entrusted

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Yesterday was supposed to have be one of the saddest days of my entire
life. Yet here I am after Dad’s funeral and I cannot help but
feel like the most blessed, most overwhelmed with joy, most hopeful
man in the world.

Mom and Dad’s grave site,
the morning after Dad’s funeral

This entire time, I believe Dad would have felt
honored by every aspect of it. Anita and I had Dad dressed in his
denim bib overalls, with a red plaid flannel workshirt beneath and in
his right hand, just as it was often poised in life, his smoking pipe.
He had often told Anita that if she had him wearing a tie he would come
back to haunt her, LOL. Last night during the visitation we had a table
set up displaying some of the many knives that he hand-made over the
years. That was my aunt’s idea, ...

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I could not resist having fun with that title.  It was just too punny!

One of the more intriguing stories last week was that of the mysterious priest who arrived on the scene of a vehicular accident in Missouri.  19-year old Katie Lentz was on her way to church when a drunk-driver smashed her car.  Emergency workers tried for more than an hour to get Lentz clear of the wreck and it looked like she wasn’t going to make it.  Just then a Catholic priest appeared, anointed Lentz with oil and prayed with her.  It was very soon after that firefighters and EMTs got Lentz out and flown to a hospital.  And the priest?  He vanished before anyone had a chance to thank him for being there.

Curiously, he didn’t turn up in any of 90-some photos that were made of the crash site.  Between that and the effect ...

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He was there.

Everybody at the scene, from firefighters to police paramedics to the victim herself, saw him and heard him.

His calming words and peaceful demeanor are being credited with saving the life of a 19-year old young woman.

But he is nowhere to be found in any of the nearly 70 photographs taken at the site of the accident.

Neither can anyone figure out how he could have been there to begin with, since the road was blocked for two miles by police on both sides of the wreck.  There were no parked cars.  There were no pedestrians seen approaching the site, either walking along the road or coming across the fields along Highway 19 near Center, Missouri.

He disappeared before anyone could thank him.

And yet he was there.  His presence is being called a miracle.  And many are wondering if the person – who seemed ...

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I can no longer, in good conscience and in keeping to my faith in God, recite the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America.

This is a choice which I have abided for nearly a year.  At various times I have felt led to articulate my reasons for doing so.  Indeed, this past fall a friend helped me to record a video about my decision to never again say the Pledge of Allegiance (we filmed it at Guilford Courthouse Battleground, in front of the statue of General Nathaniel Greene, for what it’s worth).

Recent events have brought me to a place where at last I am compelled to write about why I’m not only refraining from the Pledge of Allegiance, but have come to see it as representing too much of what is wrong with America, and even in dire opposition to the vision of ...

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