Negotiator's Guide to the Criminally Insane

I learned something about our brains today.  I learned that while high-level, long-term stress may not make a person stupid, it does literally shrink part of your brain.  The good news that the same shrunken brain will return to its normal size once the stress is reduced.  Reminds me of the time I went to Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum as a kid, and the one item that captivated my morbid, pre-teen curiosity more than anything else (amidst thousands of equally strange and bizarre items) were the shrunken heads from the Amazon jungle.  I would imagine these tiny little people with tiny little heads running around the jungle, squeaking in their tiny shrunken-head voices.  Seriously though, I've always wondered how they got those heads to be so small, especially in the Amazon where they don't have the latest head-shrinking technology.  Weird.

So where did I learn this fascinating fact about the brain shrinking under stress (or at least one organ in the brain)?  All this week I am taking part in a training to become certified as a hostage negotiator through the International Association of Hostage Negotiators.  I find it kind of funny to be sitting in a room with 75 cops and military personnel... and me.  At least my name card says "Storm Guides International" and not "Pastor Jim".  There are five different instructors this week, each representing a different area of expertise. Yesterday's instructor is a clinical psychologist and former New York cop who works as a consultant to the NYPD and Scotland Yard in the area of hostage negotiation and kidnap for ransom.  Kidnap for Ransom Insurance is big business today, as you can imagine, and this man travels the world to negotiate the terms of ransom and release on behalf of these insurance companies.  He showed a photo of the suitcase he packs for these negotiation trips, including three different passports, $1000 and 1000 pounds Sterling as escape money, and a rubber chicken (haven't figured that one out yet).  He spoke on Psychological Crisis Intervention which covered stress, suicide, and a plethora of mental disorders including schizophrenia, depression, mania, and personality disorders.  As he explained the characteristics of the various personality disorders I found myself mentally placing the name of a person above each disorder.  I know, it sounds terrible, but I couldn't help myself.  I'm probably suffering from the personality disorder called "compulsion to add names above each disorder" syndrome.  He even said which movies describe various personality disorders, like Fatal Attraction for Borderline Disorder, and Dog Day Afternoon for Avoidant Disorder.   That helped me to understand what he was talking about, because I'll never forget Glenn Close playing the psycho jilted lover in Fatal Attraction.  Every man in the movie theater ran home to tell his wife how much he loves her after watching that film.

The reason why I'm seeking this certification is to be able to assist any of Storm Guide's clients who may end up in a hostage situation.  On my way home from the training yesterday I was thinking about the vast resources that the Denver Police (for example) have at their disposal in the event of a hostage-taking:  a 7 person negotiation team, high-tech hostage negotiation equipment, and a SWAT team armed to the teeth in case the negotiations go bad.  Somehow I feel pitifully prepared should I ever need to use this training.

One final thought:  the instructor showed a clip of a series of interviews that were done with Richard Kuklinski, who is arguably the "greatest" mass murderer of all time.  He estimates that he killed somewhere in the range of 200 people during his career as a deranged serial killer and then a mafia hitman.  His nickname is "Iceman", and you'll understand why when you watch the calm indifference on his face as he describes many of the murders he committed.  You can look them up on You Tube under "Dark Secrets: Inside the Mind of a Mafia Hit man".  The instructor's point was simply this:  there are some personality disorders that are simply untreatable and impossible to reform.  A person like Kuklinski becomes a monster as a result of both genetics and environment.  Perhaps the most fascinating idea of the whole day was that two people with the same genetic pre-disposition for fearlessness can end up as either a murderer or as a hero (test pilot, Navy Seal or firefighter) and a great deal depends upon being raised in an abusive or a loving home.  I don't believe that we're simply victims of our genes or our environment, but it was still fascinating to see the elements that contribute to how we develop into adults.

Night Screams

A couple of nights ago Daphne and the girls were inside watching a movie (a chick flick), and I was in the garage tinkering with something.  I thought I heard a strange sound outside, so I walked out into the driveway to listen - and I was shocked to hear a woman screaming.  I jumped in my truck, checked that I had my gun, and raced down the driveway in the direction of the screams.  When I reached the end of our road I stopped the truck to listen so I could determine where the screams were coming from.  Silence.  I drove slowly past several houses in our neighborhood but never heard another sound.  I got back home and sat in the driveway for a few moments reflecting on what had just happened - and then it dawned on me: it wasn't a woman at all... but a mountain lion.  I remembered that I'd heard several dogs barking during the screams, which made sense because they could sense or smell the cougar's presence.  People had told me that a cougar can sound just like a woman screaming, and now I believe it.  Definitely fooled me.


 Yesterday afternoon Courtland and I baptized 15 adults and children from The Journey.  Since we don't have a permanent church facility we used the hot tub behind the house on the Journey Ranch property.  This gives a whole new meaning to the term "hot tub party"!  It was in the low 60's and drizzling rain, so those who came to support their family members had to be really committed.  One of the women I baptized came up out of the water and said to me, "oh, this feels so good in here... can I just sit here while you baptize the others?"  Ummm, I don't think that will work.  By the time we finished all the baptisms the sun had come back out and warmed everything up again - welcome to Colorado.


After church today Daphne and I are driving over to Estes Park for a romantic getaway to celebrate her 50th (sorry, I meant her 49th) birthday.  Last year we went for a 6 mile hike in the Rocky Mountain National Park to celebrate her birthday, and she wants to do the same again this year.  I found a little lodge right on the river next to the park that should be perfect.  I'm taking my camera with me this time because the elk should be in full rut by now and the park is one of the best places to see them by the hundreds.  Should be fun!

I Will Follow Him

"I will follow Him
follow Him wherever He may go
And near Him I always will be
For nothing can keep me away.
He is my destiny


I will follow Him.
Ever since He touched my heart I knew
There isn't an ocean too deep
A mountain so high it can keep,
keep me away -
away from His love."

A song from the movie Sister Act


Funny the things that touch us.  I remember vividly the night over two years ago: We were watching a movie at home in France with a couple of dear friends.  The movie was Sister Act, and at one point in the story Whoopi Goldberg transformed the convent choir from a cacophony of nuns who couldn't carry a tune to save their lives into a beautiful, harmonious, moving ensemble.

I was going through a particularly difficult period with the team I was leading, and I was desperate to hear from God.  As soon as they sang this song in the movie, the tears began to flow.  I couldn't explain what I was feeling, but this song - from a secular, sometimes irreverent film touched something deep within me and I rewound it and listened again and again, impervious to my own tears and the others who were sitting in the room.  Somehow this song hit me at the point of my need at that moment - a need to hear God's voice, a need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He was there, and that He knew the point of my struggle.  The song came like a bolt of light straight from heaven into my soul, and in that moment I found a little bit of healing.

We can find God anywhere, at any time.  He is not limited to speaking only through His Word or through a church service, for the whole world is His church, and every sound, every song, every whisper of wind is His instrument to communicate His love to us.  He is speaking and He wants us to hear His voice.  All we need to do is listen.

Elk Rut 2011

A few pictures from two mornings ago - chasing bugles.

The bear before he went to bear heaven

Owners Manual for Teenage Girls

In the middle of a conversation with Daphne late last night, I lamented the fact that there's no owner's manual for raising teenage daughters.  It seems like God would have done us and our children a great service if he'd handed us a book upon our first daughter's birth and said, "Here you go - everything you'll ever need to know is right here, with a handy alphabetical index at the back.  Just look up any question you have, and Voila!  The answer's right there!"  I would have immediately searched for the section on "Holding, Feeding and Nighttime awakenings".  As the years went by and other daughters were added to our home, you would have found me searching under "Playing with girls", and "Dates with Daughters", and of course the classic question of "Monthly periods" where I'm sure the text would have read "On this topic, we have no particular counsel.  Good luck!" I love all three of my daughters with all my heart, and each of their births were the most wonderful, emotional moments of my life. I wouldn't trade the experiences of the past 18+ years for all the money in the world.  It's just that having been a boy myself growing up, I think I probably would have have some basic ideas of how to raise boys.  With our girls I feel like my parenting has been far more by trial and error than I would like to admit.  I have two sisters, but they were 4 and 9 years older than me respectively and I spent my childhood either being mothered by them, or running for my life during baby-sitting episodes that went bad.

If I had the Teenage Girls Owners Manual today, I would be devouring the chapters on "Boys", and "Dating", and "How to protect your daughters from emotional heartache without flabbergasting them in the process."  Oh, and there would certainly have to be at least one chapter entitled "Guns, and their practical use in deterring unwanted suitors".  I will say one thing about raising teenage daughters though:  I find myself on my knees increasingly often as I plead with God for wisdom and insight for a job that I feel unequivocally unqualified to handle.  I can wade into the most terrifying crises with confidence and courage, and through my knowledge and experience help to bring a quick resolution.  But when it comes to raising teenage daughters I find myself fearful, untrained and unprepared for the task.  Our girls are no longer the beautiful little china dolls who used to unquestioningly follow us around because they had absolute trust that we knew the way.  Today they are beautiful young women who are full of their own hopes and dreams, and who have their own legitimate ideas about the way life should work.  Yes, they still need our guidance and wisdom from time to time, simply because we know them better than anyone else and we've clocked more time on this earth than they have.  But our role is quickly changing.  More and more we find ourselves wanting to look up the chapters on "Coaching and Mentoring", and "How to let go as they grow up".  And more recently for myself I need a chapter called " How to handle your own failures when you just can't seem to get it right".  

At 3:30 this morning I can say one thing for certain:  I'm way out of my pay-grade.  I can only turn once more to the One who does have all the answers.

Big Bear

I killed my first bear yesterday.  I was watching the Auburn-Mississippi State game on TV when I heard that a big bear had been spotted on private land not far from where I was at that time. There aren't many things that will pull me away from an Auburn game, but a big bear is definitely one of them!  I went to take a look, and he was definitely a big boar black bear.  I had to drive all the way home to get my rifle and the bear tag I'd applied for earlier this year - never expecting that I would actually have the opportunity to shoot one.  By the time I got back to the place I'd seen him, he had been spooked up into a huge pine tree and he was lying on a branch probably 40 feet up.  I was amazed that he'd climbed that high, as the tree was surrounded by branches all the way up and he was very large - maybe 275-300 lbs.  I only took one shot, and that was all that was needed.  It took me and a friend almost two hours to figure out how to get him into the back of a pickup truck due to his weight.  It must have been around 2 pm when I killed him, and I didn't get home until 11:30 last night.  There was no one available to help me clean the bear, and it took me all of that time to finish skinning and cleaning him (much of the time was me trying to figure out the best way to do the job).  Thankfully my neighbor Brian has a large crane with a pulley system that allowed me to hang him up, which made the job easier for me.  When I called my brother to tell him about the bear, he said, "I guess you've really joined the ranks of the Mountain Men now!  The meat is hanging in Brian's big cooler, and I'll take the hide to a taxidermist this week to get tanned.

Karine is now settled in Alabama.  I flew down with her last week, and spent most of the week looking for a car for her, then getting it registered and insured.  We found a 10-year old Toyota Corolla that is in great shape, and the only drawback is that it's a stick shift.  By the second day of trying to teach her to drive with a stick I was getting concerned that our relationship wouldn't last the experience... but she finally got the hang of it (as we all do) and she's driving like a pro now.  Getting the car registered was a pain, because Jefferson county (where Birmingham is located) is flat broke, and they've closed all but one of the satellite offices.  Karine and I showed up at the courthouse at 6:30 a.m. and there were already 25 people in line.  By the time the doors opened at 8 there were at least 100 people in line behind us.  Of course, when we got inside we were told that we didn't have all the documentation that we needed, which meant another trip downtown that afternoon and another hour waiting in line.  Karine already has a job at The Urban Cookhouse, which is a restaurant that's owned by some friends of my brother Bill who also attend his church.  We're praying that the Lord will quickly provide her with several Christian friends, which will help her to adapt all the sooner to life in Alabama.  One of the main reasons why we wanted her to spend some time in Alabama was so she could meet some young people her age who are excited about their relationship with God.

That's all for now.