Usually I post here on Thursdays about music I’m listening to, whether a mini review of a CD or some playlists Pandora or Rhapsody picked out for me. I thought today I’d share what podcasts I like to listen to, considering I split my drive time and gym time between music and podcasts.

Someday I might buy a motorcycle. Not now, but maybe when our kids are grown and don’t need me as much. And when Cindy has endured me enough for one lifetime. Yes, I secretly admire motorcycles. I’ve never been one who willingly seeks adventure, but a part of me imagines the thrill of an open freeway at 70 mph. (I likely wouldn’t go much faster.) I haven’t been on a bike, though, since that fateful day when I was 5.

A couple weeks ago Cindy went out of town for a few days. She took Micah with her, so it was just me and the girls. There are several things you realize when your wife is gone for a while. Now, I’m a pretty good cook, so it wasn’t like we’d starve.

A friend of mine has been after me for some time to start a video blog. I suppose he likes what I write but would prefer not to have to read it. Which is a bit of a novel idea, since I’ve felt that the way I write often overshadows what I have to say. Sure, I might have some interesting topics occasionally, but I’ve felt, looking back on two years of posting, that the ideas are really just an excuse for writing. Sort of how a jazz standard is really just a set of chord changes that the cats will jam out to. The song is just a vehicle for the jam session.

Before I’d turned sixteen my dad bought me a car. Now, I wasn’t one of those rich kids whose parents spoiled me with a brand new car. No, no, this car was not a status symbol to cruise around the high school parking lot. It was merely a mode of transportation. At least, that was usually the idea—that it would get me from one place to the next. This didn’t always work out.

I was listening to a sermon podcast a few months ago and made note of something not only eye-opening for the mind but the heart. There’s so much we don’t understand about Scripture because we don’t know the context. Mark Driscoll points out something I’d never noticed, the vinegar sponge offered to Jesus.

I’ve caught myself staring at Jacque this past week, contemplating how much more grown up she’s appearing and how much more she’s resembling Cindy. I’ve been mesmerized by her chocolate eyes and thinking soon a boy about her age will find himself lost in those same eyes. I’m not sure how I feel about this enlightenment, though hopefully because of our close relationship she’s been developing standards set by me her father.

This week’s post is quite practical and may not be up your alley at all, but hear me out. If you’re reading me here on the Internet—where else would you be?—then you’re taking in information; whether it’s of value or not is up to you. What do we do with the information we absorb? Like a sponge we can become bloated both with what should be kept and what should be wrung out. How do we hold on to what’s worth keeping? Here are some ideas.