Matthew Robinson

Fay.

Holy wow.  Never have I seen so much rain.  I’m not quite sure how I kept power on here the whole time, but I wont complain.  Comast-ic it wasn’t, but that was the least of my worries.  Tallahassee was roughed up.  There’s still more water in the ground than it can hold, the effects just keep on coming.

I watched Revenge of the Nerds for the first time this weekend with some new friends.  I’m not sure I’m going to listen to any more of Dean’s movie picks.  Holy wow to 90 minutes of weirdness there.

The Well was great last night.  All of the help that we received setting up and tearing down made all the difference.  With some college students back, there was a vibe I’ve been longing for since the end of April, and I’m excited for the next few weeks and what’s to come.  And Rachel Boeselt and Brittany Elliot.  Man they’re good.

With Closing Ceremonies, my traditional first day power point pictures still needing to be put together, and the excitement of the first day, last night wasn’t restful.

I started my sixth year of teaching today.  That’s a holy wow thought to me in an of itself.  I love my schedule this semester and am looking forward to a new education class that I’m teaching at TCC.  I sent mom and dad the traditional first day of school photo (I’ll post tomorrow when I get my camera off of my desk at work) and enjoyed starting off each class today.  My friend Bethany will love this one…I officially have a transvestite in one of my classes.

Holy wow, indeed.

It’s going to be an interesting semester..

(my first day of kindergarten, circa August 1987)

Earlier this week we had a dorm move in day at FSU for the Well. A time to meet and connect with new freshmen and their families, hand out water bottles, and show some service towards the college community.

Needing to go into the office, I scheduled my meetings later in the day so that I could take the morning off to take part in the festivities. I arrived on Landis Green near 8:15 a.m., unloaded the 30 cases of water I was transporting, helped to rally the troops we had meeting us, and began to hawk my free wares to many a South Florida parent and annoyed kid as I walked around dolling out water.

After a few hours I was soaked. Not by Faye’s precipitation, but my own. August in Tallahassee is miserable until the kickoff of the first home football game (not until September this year), and my tired arms and drenched shirt were evidence of the the hard work and humidity I had encountered that morning.

I had enough foresight to bring a change of shirt in the car, and before heading over to TCC, I un and re dressed.

Arms full and loaded from the parking lot, I made my way across campus and up the stairs to the faculty office suite. ID out and card swiped, I used my knees to open the door and bolted around the corner towards my den of productivity.

Screaming, yelling, and pounding down the hall, I heard my secretary bellowing:

“Excuse me, excuse me young man. Just who do you think you are and where do you think you’re going?”

Gail is a matriarch and she protects me. She knows I’m a schedule fiend, and if there’s no appointment on my calendar, any student’s going to be hard pressed to drop in if it’s not during my advertised office hours. Some of this county’s finest are enrolled as students at the College, and somehow they’ve found a way to be the most persistent, most annoying, most door slamming and expletive spewing individuals who always feel they have to meet with you that instant. Gail doesn’t let anyone get by without an phone call back and her blessing. Gail protects me.

So dressed in Nike sneaks, basketball shorts, an FSU Student Boosters tshirt and a ball cap, Gail saw me as a student. Accustomed to my slacks and linen Banana button downs, an occasional tie, or the suit when it comes out, I didn’t look like me.

Thinking before I opened my mouth, I slowly turned around, smiled and said:

“I work here, Gail. Would you like to see my hall pass?”

“Oh, Dr. Robinson, you look like a thug today.”

Gail didn’t so much think before she opened her mouth…

What a week. And what a night.

The Well turned one today. Okay, well the numbers are fudged a little, but it was a year ago tonight that we officially “launched” at Godby High School.

This service has been on my mind for about two months. The summer offered an opportunity for an uphill climb to get to where we ended up tonight. Excellence. Anticipation. Worship. Truth.

And for me, exhaustion.

We arrived, though. Boy did we arrive.

First, find me another church in Tallahassee that will open by rocking out to Led Zeppelin. You wont.

My favorite red head and the other Heather Ann in my life took an initial rough cut of a year’s worth of couch segments and made it shine. [A BTS@TW note: powerpoint was having "rounding" issues (as a mathematician I can explain this later) and the rehearsed timings just weren't taking. I clicked through them myself in the back until the last slide, when I made a Olympic style 100 meter dash backstage to end up live on the couch with a second to spare. It worked out. The Bacon sisters worked their tech magic, and with Viva la Vida under me, it couldn't have been better. Note #2: It was so funny to me how "trained" people are. When the montage began with all the past guests, I honestly think people were thinking that part was live as they started clapping for each referenced person. After two or three cycles and pictures, they figured it out, leaving me chuckling from the back deck.]

At our first preview service at First Christan Church last summer the Woman at the Well spoken word clip was shown. It made sense to bring it back. What a moment.

Dean had weight and pressure on his shoulders tonight. We all did. And boy did he deliver. Two of my favorite “Dean-isms”:
1. “So as the person who was told by many people in this town, mainly with good intentions, that ‘he was insane’…Happy Anniversary.”
2. “If you like how we are doing church now you will hate us in ten years.” So true. How about people clapping during the sermon? And amen-ing? Perry Noble, Gabriel Snyder, and Billy Graham better watch out.

Unity. That was the un-spoken word of the last set. Scott graciously accepted my invitation to sing a few weeks back, worked with Mrs. Boeselt, and the combined band, with our past and present, anticipating our future, and “Mighty to Save” was a high like none other. Throw in Todd Doss and you know it’s going to be an incredible moment in time.

I’m spent.

And it all starts all over again, tomorrow.

One year…12 months…365 days…525,600 minutes…

Here we go…

It really is a word. And thanks to a shoot ideas back-and-forth conversation with friends at Cafe that extended into the next day, the area formerly known as the foyer/lobby has a new name. It’s a gathering place. An area to cultivate connections and expectations. And it’s shaped up rather nicely over the course of the past few weeks.

We’d gotten very spoiled over the course of the past two months at Godby. The administration graciously let us keep our camp for the most part set up each week throughout the summer. With teachers reporting back today for pre-planning, it all had to come down and get squished in the trailer. We hadn’t done the old routine in what felt like so long (so long and so hot) and I was so grateful for every pair of hands that helped us clean, pack, and load.

I knew Dean’s sermon would be a strong one when he called me with a creative idea he had to integrate. He needed helping pulling it off, and the result was the scene flashing before us, and still seared in my consciousness nearly 24 hours later. Lukewarm. Halfhearted. Partially committed.

Completely uncomfortable.

The Kelly to my Regis and I have been working on our delivery and chemistry. It clicked last night. Jovanna No Middle Name Gomez has been a welcomed blessing to our mover and shaker and do-er team at the Well, and the excellence with which she approaches any task she takes on leaves us all in a better place than where we started.

A little over a year ago Dean and I met at Jim and Milt’s for the third or fourth time for breakfast and he said he needed somebody. He didn’t know exactly for what. Or how. Or the manner in which it would “all play out.” And then he said that somebody was me.

Next week we celebrate a year, and it certainly has played out. Next Sunday’s service is one I’ve been looking forward to for months. We’ve got people coming back (in various forms) and a party to wash it all down with after.

12 months ago we had no clue.

In so many similar and different ways I still feel like we don’t.

“Greater things are yet to come, greater things are still to be done…”

They’re starting…at 8:08 p.m. on 08/08/2008, the Olympic Games Opening Ceremonies will kick off in Beijing.

I love Christmas time.  I love the first day of school.  I love fireworks on Independence Day.  I love the Friday after Thanksgiving.  And I love, every four years, the Olympic games.

There is something about the majesty of Bob Costas’ seamless narration and perfectly set to music back stories of the athletes.  And the Parade of Nations.  And Rowdy Gaines calling the swimming.  And even John Tesh with the gymnastics.  I rally around the games.  I keep up with the medal counts.  I put John William’s Olympic Fanfare theme on my iPod.

I love the Olympics.

I’ve always wanted to go.  And one day I will.  It’s on the list of life goals.

It’s been a long week.  Summer classes are finally over, and I’ve got a week off before pre-planning starts.  Sally and Bennett’s wedding is tonight, but you can rest assured that the DVR is set to record NBC-HD and I’ll be watching the games and its coverage well into the wee hours of this and the next few mornings.

I’ll be living vicariously through the athletes and anchors these next three weeks in Beijing.  Stop by and say hi if you’re around!

“Without complaining…”

Ouch. That hit me hard last night.

So did “attending your own funeral every morning.”

And “showing up already full.”

I listen to Dean’s sermons the day after…I catch snippets throughout the service, but from behind the scenes and with a radio in my ear, it’s hard to get the essence of the full thing. I know the main points as Dean and I talk throughout the week. And I can sense the reaction the night of, but I am able to fully sit back and hear it all on my way to work (and on my iPod) on Monday mornings.

He’s pretty darn good at what he does. And a lot of the times, he’s pretty funny. Can’t wait to see Cowboy Inserra in spurs next week!

All the detals came together last night. And there are more to come. It was an exhausting, hot day, but I work with such amazing people who gather together to pull it off each Sunday.

As the Church grows, so do the demands…

I’m beginning to believe and feel that.

And the nervous excitement of it all, at times, is unbelievably overwhelming…

I attended the International Baccalaureate program at Hillsborough High School in Tampa for four years.  I went to school with people whom I still consider some of the smartest and brightest that I’ve ever met.  There was something that the academic rigor and intensity of what we all experienced during that time that bonded the 125 or so of us together.  Throw in the rich tradition of the second oldest high school in the state, and the fact that the faculty and staff did a more than decent job integrating us in with the “traditional” students, and bonds that I’ve realized might possibly last a lifetime were formed.

Sarah Johnson was one of my first best friends.  We met in August of ‘96 on the second floor at HHS.  Her locker was a few half-height metal doors from mine.  We’d go on to share many classes, many experiences with our faith, and some of the highest highs and lowest lows of growing up.

Sarah and her new husband Alex have been in town these past few days.  I’ve met him before and love him, and I had the pleasure of visiting them in San Diego while they’ve been doing life out there.

Sarah and Alex are headed to Princeton, New Jersey for Sarah to attend (on a full ride!) grad school.  Sarah went to Emory.  Sarah earned a Fullbright.  Sarah’s done some of the coolest things in her life thus far out of many of my friends.

There’s great comfort in knowing we can pick up where we left off.  Our communication fluctuates, but the basis of those four wonderful years in high school has never faded.  I’m excited for Sarah and Alex’s new adventure and can’t wait to visit an Ivy League school.

The two perras…my dog is Sadie, and their dog is Sadie, and after a cross country (literally) trip down I-10 from Cali, Sadie Johnson was ready to play.  These two ladies had a blast, and I saw my Sadie come more alive around another dog than she ever has (she’s been around a lot of male dogs, but never a female, and maybe she was a lot less intimidated).  The girls played and slept and played some more, and seemed to have a grand old time.  My Sadie really did seem sad when Sarah’s Sadie left.

And I was sad, too.  Sarah made a return appearance to Tally after eight years.  Much has changed (case in point husband and dog, just to name a few), and we have changed, but so many things are the same.

And there’s so much wonderfulness in knowing that.