They Look Like Trees

pancakes, bacon and pizza

2009-05-04T22:37:00.002-05:00

i am in the midst of finals, papers and planning the class retreat since i am the class vice president. will somebody please hire somebody to shoot me in the thigh? (i'm not sure why i chose the thigh)

it is strange to think that i will have completed 33 hours of grad school after this week. mathematically it is impossible for me to fail all of my classes, a comfort i cling to in times like these. actually, i'm performing better academically than i ever have. it is amazing how much i'll study things i love as opposed to things i rather detest (i'm talking to you chemistry).

i'm learning more than i can process and i'm taking in more than i can handle. a professor told me the other day that what worries him is that he has become educated beyond his ability to follow and obey, that he has learned more than he knows what to do with.

now, i know those statements could come across as pompous words of someone who fancies himself an intellectual elite. but this was not the man's heart. he has simply been studying the bible, theology and spiritual matters for decades. he knows a great deal, plain and simple.

truthfully, what he said was rooted in humility. he desperately wants to obey and walk in faith in God, not in faith in his brain. in the church today, particularly the church in the bible-belt, i think there is the threat of becoming educated beyond our ability to obey, our ability to worship and our ability to follow. because we've heard it from the nursery on up, it is easy to think we understand it or that we've got it. that is quite natural. the longer a person is exposed to anything, the harder it is for that thing to be fresh or to maintain its impact. this is true of almost everything, except pancakes, pizza and bacon (those three never lose their power). God fits right in there too, probably just above all three.

beyond all of the things i'm being tested on and writing about, i've learned a great deal on the depths of God. i know there is more depth to explore and i will spend life exploring that. but i have to remind myself that exploration is more about finding something, making a claim. it isn't simply about wandering. i think this is especially true of faith in Jesus Christ.

i am not meant to simply plow through book after book about God, the atonement, systematic theologies and whatever else is before me. i am meant to revel in the truth of what i'm studying. i am meant to let God's Word change me and guide me. i am meant to let the things i know trickle down from my head to my heart and then let it work its way out through my hands into real life. knowledge simply does not a lick of good if it doesn't change us.

that process can be painful. there are things in my life i hate to acknowledge. in my ability to reason and justify things i don't even have to. i can simply let myself focus on the others. but that isn't holiness. that isn't what God has called me to. the true love of God is in obedience. 1 john 5:3 states that pretty clearly: "this is love for God: to obey his commands..."

that is what i'm meant for. i meant to love God. that is what i was created for, to revel in that love, commune in Him and obey. that verse adds "and his commands are not burdensome." this has proven true in my life. it is in obedience, in doing what i know God would have me do when He would have me do it, that i find joy.

the problem isn't amassing knowledge. that problem is letting that knowledge lose its meaning. there is great power behind the Gospel. i've lost sight of that a lot. thankfully, He keeps reminding me of how beautiful His love for us really is. i still don't get it. i still don't deserve it. but i love it and i'm grateful.

in light of that professor's thoughts, i think paul's words to the corinthians is an appropriate end to this rambling: for i resolved to know nothing while i was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.

future hindsight

2009-04-17T00:34:00.004-05:00

scientists should be studying me right now. for the last couple of weeks it seems like i have not been able to find actual rest. i have slept reasonable hours, even stealing the very occasional nap. it seems as though sleeping one hour up to 24 and anywhere in between would leave me with heavy eyes and the insatiable desire to be horizontal.

times like this are wonderful in hindsight. i know that when i get to the end of this incredibly draining semester i will be grateful for the exhaustion because it meant growth. i am having to depend on the parts of me that i hoped were there. you like to think that you've got a little reserve fuel in you, that you have something that will push you that extra few steps and then some. i look forward to looking back on this time because i will see that i did have it in me and that it was God's great grace bringing me through. i will see how much i have gained because of that divine energy.

i have always tried not to be preachy on this thing. sometimes i'm not too good at trying. but the truth is that i am grateful and i am amazed at what God does. He gets a lot of slack for things that happen in this world it seems. i'm not exempt from questioning and wrestling with doubt. but i have seen and felt ridiculous levels of grace and love. i have learned to trust God when i cannot understand Him and that there is beauty in the things of/about God that we can understand. i am grateful of the things we can know because He revealed them to us in His word and His creation.

i'm in a period of growth, in knowledge and in love. those two things together are pretty amazing. again, i'm grateful to be where i am. but i am miserably tired and exhausted. so often it seems like those two sets go together well. growth almost always involves some type of struggle or trial. knowing that, the struggle becomes much easier. knowing what hebrews 11 and 12 say makes the struggle much easier. faith carries us through the struggle that God, with purpose, sets before us. those heroes of the faith knew it. there is purpose for the hardship and buying into that truth helps us become more like what, in Christ, we will one day be.

my tired eyes will freshen up soon enough, my aching back will be healed up soon enough, my brain will stop running in circles soon enough and i'll end this post soon enough. my dwindling bank account might not ever be filled up but i know that God is good and, thanks to the work of Christ, he is within me filling me up with more than i need. if it isn't in this life, i'm grateful for the future hope salvation affords me.

these days there is a great deal of worry in this world. money seems to be running away. business are hurting. wonderful organizations that are dearly loved and that will be dearly missed by many are dissolving. retirement plans are calling it quits and nest eggs aren't quite hatching anymore. and there are countless other troubles i've not seen or experienced.

yet, God is good. seeing the goodness and love of God in these times is hard. maybe it doesn't seem to make sense on the surface. but i think seeing it does make sense out of our circumstances, by allowing us future hindsight right now. because God is who He is i need not fret. knowing that these hardships will have great meaning in the future gives them great meaning now. i like how that works. perspective i don't have yet is available for me through faith, through trusting that God is indeed working in this world and in my life.

laundry

2009-02-19T01:29:00.006-06:00

my day is just about over. i'm in bed and laying on clean sheets, which are wonderful. clean sheets, clean blankets and clean pillow cases make me feel as if i'm going to sleep in heaven. i cherish the night or so i get of super cleanliness. it doesn't last, does it?

those of you who really know me might know how much i despise laundry. i'd have trouble thinking of something i loathe more. i love the smells though. oh, how i love the smell of laundry rooms. i hate the process: hate folding, hate having to wait around for the dryer, hate loosing socks, hate cleaning out the lint thingy, hate (and usually don't) separating lights and darks (segragation is wrong), & i hate folding (really, really hate it).

the problem, as i see it, is that laundry never ends. there are always more things to wash, like what you wear when you're washing. the nudists maybe onto something: they are free from the tyrrany of laundry. i am certain laundry is the part of the fall theologians and ministers don't like to talk about. if the fruit had never been unlawfully eaten, i wouldn't be perpetually washing, drying, folding and wishing i was rich enough to hire someone to wash my clothes for me.

oh how i dislike things that never end. i want resolve. i want solutions. i want answers.

i've tried for a few weeks now to write something for this thing here. failure has abounded. there is plenty going on, plenty going through my head. but every time i sit to write, i just stop a few paragraphs into it.

i guess i'm wondering when i'm going to have some type of conclusion in some areas of life. for the last handful of years or more, i've been looking for something satisfying. what i've found is more laundry, more of just living life and getting through. life can be awfully repetitive.

the repetition can make us bitter or bored or discontent or frustrated or so many things. in the repetition of life there is plenty of meaning to find. i tend to focus on the things i'm not happy about, especially with where i'm at or who i am. i don't look to the things i have and enjoy.

i don't stop and thank God for the people in my life. with some, i just get upset that they aren't what i want them to be in my life. really it is me that isn't what i want to be in my life. they just get caught in the crossfire. i don't see the good God has put in me, the bits of him that i've got in my being. it's easier for me to see the good in others for the most part. it's a different story with me.

the point is that i'm trying to learn to be okay with those things that are just a part of life. uncertainty is just a part of it, especially life with Christ. faith requires a bit of it. things are not usually spelled out for us by God. there are questions and confusion.

understanding isn't always what God wants from us. so often i think He just wants trust, for us to have faith- conviction of things unseen. and with that faith comes hope, what walter brueggeman says is the exultant conviction that God will not quit until He has His full way in the world.

this is something, faith that is, that has to be constant. faith is like laundry in that it isn't ever over. it requires us to continue, to keep going. faith is wonderful in so many ways. though faith can be awful, terrifying, unnerving and place in settings completely uncomfortable, the outcome of it is wonderful: the joy of clean sheets, the wonderful knowledge that God's got you, the hope that when all is said in done there won't be anymore laundry to do.

High Five Escalator

2009-02-15T23:43:00.001-06:00

i'd like to say that i enjoy this. i'd also like to point out how happy rob made everybody.

actually it was simply hi-fives or is it high-fives? i think it would make sense for both. it could be a hello five or a high five in the sense of it being up in the air. i'm going with high fives because often the five is not salutatory.

i realize i've been silent for a while. perhaps there will be some real thoughts later. my studies have consumed me.

tasty burger

2009-01-13T08:53:00.001-06:00

if any of you were wondering what movie line i quote more than any other, this is it. pretty much every time i eat a burger, tasty or not, i will say it out loud or, at the very least, to myself. samuel l. jackson has a way of saying things, doesn't he?

"yes they deserved to die..."

press your luck

2009-01-06T10:52:00.004-06:00

right now i am sitting at my dad's desk. from this spot i can only hear the tv, perpetually on the game show network. my grandmother moved in with my parents last thanksgiving and since that time she has filled her days with the viewing of this channel with small breaks at other channels for the nightly showings of jeopardy and that wheel (what she calls the wheel of fortune). but pretty much, she is endlessly watching the game show network.

all you hear, in between commercials targeted toward the elderly, is the beeping, buzzing and unified audience response to a myriad of games. it deadens your senses, probably dilates your pupils and drives you crazy. press your luck is the current game.

is there a more obnoxious game to listen to and not watch? i think not.

constantly, you hear the cries of the early 80's contestants, with their upper torso and head in the midst of the flashing board. this was surely a highly technical achievement which must have blown the minds of people everywhere.

"no whammy, no whammy...... STOP!" they scream. they hit the large red button and you either hear the cheers of the contestant and audience because they landed on a 1500$ spot or they won a tumor inducing microwave or you hear the depressed fog-horn noise which precedes "a whammy."

the whammy is a cross between the noid from dominoes and a gremlin from the movie gremlins. the whammy would involve in some type of silly animation. you would lose your money and it would laugh at you with a helium cackle. for some reason the whammy wore a cape.

but i'm not telling you anything wikipedia wouldn't be happy to. what i will say is that the game show network is an abyss that has swallowed my grandmother.

i wonder about what it must be like to grow old and to get to a point where you don't really do anything. nana spends much of her time just trying to run out the clock. she is ill. she gets tired walking into the kitchen to acquire one of her dozen sprites a day or to eat a pint of haagen dazs dulce de leche. there isn't much else for her to do, that she physically can do.

at times she feels like she is a burden. truthfully at times she is and at times she isn't. but she is family, so you do what you have to because there is something about family that allows us to and urges us to. when there is something amiss with family it is obvious. family as an institution is really quite remarkable. family is something at the root of our lives. family can define us, at its best and worst. even when it doesn't exist, it will be created. i saw that living in moldova. the kids there created family, sometimes for the worst.

i've seen how my grandparents' aging has impacted my parents' lives. i hear stories about people taking care of their sick father or mother for years. i've not only heard the stories but i've seen them lived out. loving sons and daughters become caregivers and their lives dissipate into watching after their parent like they would a baby. for better or worse, people are living longer and family now means considering what to do when life keeps going.

one of the last times i was with my grandpa before he died, some of his family of comparable ages came to visit. i sat in on the talk, fifty years the minor of the youngest of the 6 or so in the room. they spoke about death in a way that was new to me.

death really was a release for them. they were done, for lack of a better word, with living. they had lived lives they were okay with, they were out of the resources of living and ready to put the final period on their lives. they were satisfied with the lives they led. it is disturbing in a way, admirable in another.

i'm not really sure why i'm writing about death and the game show network. but i do know that i hope to die while i'm still living, living in the sense that i feel like i still have a reason to. this hanging around that happens so much these days doesn't seem good. i hope to lead a long life but more so a full one. if i can sit in a room with my peers when i'm the age those people were and still feel like my life matters, i'll be satisfied. this break i've had from school has made me tired from doing nothing. i'm ready for something again, something challenging. i'm ready to go back.

feeling like your life mattered in its past, i think, will help make the possibility of life mattering at that age possible in the future. perhaps the opposite is true, that feeling like your life didn't matter will motivate you to do something in the end, to redeem it.

but i fear that is too big of a risk. by then, i may only be able to muster enough energy to make it to the couch so i can watch reruns of game shows i never cared enough to watch while i was young. maybe waiting until the end to matter will work for some but i'm not that lucky. i need to make life matter while i can. if you'll permit me to be a little cheesy: it's not wise to press your luck, not in that sense.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T23:16:00.002-06:00

though my santa was a little more delayed than the last couple of years, i still got it in before the big day. i'm not sure how i feel about this one. but i am proud of my fire work. basically, what i'm trying to say is give the man his cookies. he's earned them. don't give him vegatables, please just don't do that.

holiday cheer?

2008-12-08T18:01:00.003-06:00

i'm diligently working to get this last week of school under my belt successfully. actually, the fact that i'm writing this right now probably casts much doubt upon the merit of my diligence. a truly diligent man would not be updating his sorely neglected blog whilst drowning in a sea of scholarly endeavors. he would need all of his energy to keep him afloat, to keep his increasingly scattered head above water in the hopes that something might swoop in to rescue him.

the purpose of this post is simply to question the people at sprint. what are they doing with santa, nay, to santa?

please follow this link but be warned that you might be freaked out by what you see: holiday abomination

now, sprint has made santa into a malnourished, ill-fashioned, albino-tool with a beard and self-issued "hip-hop-street-cred" that makes me hate the whole concept of santa, who was not meant to be a weaselly trust fund recipient with too much time for leisure but a diligent and benevolent toy craftsmen and a kind and efficient manager of adorable elves. santa should be full of love, hope, generosity, ridiculous cheer and equal parts milk & cookies.

santa's clothing should be a bit of a squeeze for him because he is a little heavy and intends to go on a diet. his pants should not be tight because they were made for women. i do not want and the world does not need an emo santa who can be described with the word uber (please insert two dots above the u, or is it the e).

this blatant abuse of santa bugs me because christmas has been so terribly distorted into something that irks me. though santa has seemingly replaced the birth of Christ as christmas's central theme, the roots of his lore are decent and kind of comforting. the real santa didn't seem to have time to golf or pursue his dj dreams, which i can only assume will flounder epically, but was trying to bless other people.

where has substance gone? can we please lead lives that matter again? the world needs fat santas again that genuinely work towards the good, not merely a good time. looking at ourselves makes us empty and skinny. caring about others fattens us up. if there was ever a time that we actually needed fat, it is now (metaphorically of course: be more sensible in food and exercise for a healthy life). keep an eye out for my annual santa paint production (i'll take suggestions).

the .two

2008-11-18T20:43:00.004-06:00

since the shack, almost everyone i know has asked me about multnomah falls. "have you seen it?" "have you been there?" "did you read that book?" "i heard a native american woman jumped off it, is that true?"and so on and so forth. well, you can all back off. this past weekend i hiked all around multnomah falls. here it is in all its splendor.

here is a bonus view from the top, looking down.

now, you may be asking yourself: how did tim get up there? well, i'll gladly answer you: he hiked up there. after that, you may be asking yourself this: isn't tim in terrible shape? well yes, i am in terrible shape. how did this happen?

one fateful day, one of my roommates asked if i wanted to go hiking. i did and decided to go. we were going to go with his 47 year old brother. i figured i'd be safe then. he couldn't do too much, he's 47 afterall. well, i'm an idiot. here is a picture that proves i am an idiot and shows one of the 5 or so waterfalls i saw and what i feel is a decent beard:

you see, chris's brother is working on getting into climbing shape for the spring when he climbs mt. hood again. thus, he was in much better shape than i was hoping he would be. i'm in shape if you count round.

this man led the way: head down, plowing forth. i kept up. we did somewhere like 5.2 miles or so i was told. though, i think it might have been more if the simple math i did was correct. he kept throwing distances at me and i swear they added up to something more like 11.2 miles. either way, there was definitely a .2 involved. if life has taught me anything, it is always the .2 that gets you. the .2 makes your butt hurt, your lower back hurt and basically your entire being hurt.

there always seems to be a little extra that you don't think you can do. typically you can. a lot of the time you don't have a 47-year old man to drive you along. but, you do need somebody or somebodies to push you, to hold you accountable, to be a part of your life. hiking alone is silly.

if there is one thing i am learning out here, it is that having people you care about is precious. i've got a lot of friends, a lot of people i know, that are struggling with life right now. to a degree i am one of them. it sucks to feel like you've got nothing that inspires you, that gives you satisfaction or that you love doing.

we need people. they need us. we weren't meant to live alone, to struggle alone, to be happy alone. as i've read through the old and new testaments these last few months, community has shouted loudest in the text, in God's word. i feel like we need to reach out. living alone is silly.

God is in nature communal. He is trinitarian. He is within a divine community in essence. God is three in one (any attempt i've made to explain this further falls short of that simple truth). what is rediculous is that we are not only invited into the Trinity, Jesus himself prays that we will engage with that fellowship in john 17.

i need to grab a hold of this perspective. i need to realize the value of the offer out on the table. how amazing it is that God wants us. in Christ, we have amazing things in our possession and still more amazing things to come. if you don't believe me, read through the first three chapters of ephesians and hear what this relationship with God does in the believer's life.in the attempts to pursue whatever the heck we are pursuing, we can lose sight of what we can have and what we do have.

in the exhaustion of the hike, when the extra .2 has sucked all the oxygen from your lungs, let those people around you keep you going. in doing so, you'll help them too. i think that as we learn to do that we start to learn more about what it means to be in community with the God that loves us so deeply. i'll leave you with a picture of a place made for thinking way too deep about life.

holy ink

2008-11-08T18:30:00.005-06:00

recently a friend of mine lost her pen, one of her two favorites, and it happened when i was with her. she got this pen when she graduated from college, from the college. it was a sentimentally unique pen and a solid writing pen with pine cones that fell from a tree. the loss made her a bit sad. i'm not sure if it was my fault, possibly was in a strange church + bag incident, but i took it upon myself to get a new one.

so, i emailed the alumni association of her college. here are a few excerpts from my initial email, where i unashamedly begged for a pen from a guy named tad (i used his name a lot in the email):
"Tad, I know that sometimes our jobs can get wrapped up in the mundane and the thankless tasks, then we can begin to wonder if we are making a difference. This is your chance to know you have blessed the life of one of your own, a fellow pirate out in the world."
&
"I cannot do this without you, Tad. I also understand that your life and job have much more important duties to undertake but this is an opportunity for something epic and heroic, if I may really stretch the meaning of those words."

i received an email back from another member of the alumni association, Kim, with good news:
"I'm going to put a pen in the mail to you today so that you can bring a smile to her face as she watches the pine cone fall over and over again!"

alright, now i was excited. the pen was on its way, thus i replied. again, a sampling:
"I had a good feeling about you good people, Kim. You've given me a new perspective on pirates. No longer are they mindless plunderers simply out for themselves. Nay, pirates are charitable lovers of life with hearts of amazing capacity."
&
"Thank you for this kindness. You Kim, if I may use a word I recently heard a rambunctious teen utter just yesterday, rock."

i waited patiently and on one rainy day in portland the sun broke through the clouds. a thick envelope, jammed quite unlovingly into my tiny mailbox by a surely disgruntled undergrad postal worker, was revealed when i opened the small mail door. with all my might, i maneuvered and navigated the envelope into my hands, opening it to find the pen i had sought and a bonus pen (though this bonus pen did not contain the novelty of its travelling companion, it was a nice addition).

proudly, i give the pen to my friend. she is happy to have it, grateful as well. way to go me. i felt a small bit of satisfaction. then the story of my life unfolds in all its comedic tragedy.

the pen does not write.

what? she gets a few sentences out of it. after that, she can only scratch her words onto the paper. no amount of spit or will-power can get this thing to release a drop of ink. oh, how i tried. it is now a useless pen, good only for watching pine cones fall from the tree into the waiting arms of a motionless man. that novelty only serves as a welcome distraction whilst taking notes. 'whilst' is under utilized.

this bothered me on a purely metaphorical level. even when i've done all i can do for something to succeed and go right and even when it feels like i have and it has, something falls apart that i have no control over. if it isn't obvious, i do feel something for this girl and she knows it (this is a subject i've intentionally never written about on this endeavor and i do so now with incredible hesitation and internal objection.). but i cannot make her write, so to speak. God knows what will happen with her, God knows i don't.

i just identified with this dry pen scene too much. i could make a thousand gestures and they could all come up dried-out: oh, so close to success but just a little closer to failure. but at some point they work their way out of my control. this isn't my fault, the pen. but, come on. why couldn't the pen work? where is the dang ink?

i hate that there are so may dry pens in life. it sucks that we can want something -this is about more than a girl here- and do everything right to get it, but we don't. life is so out of our control. our planning, our hard work, our wanting can all add up to a big pile of nothing with heavy parts disappointment. God then becomes the object of our anger, our disappointment, our empty hands. who else is there to blame after i get tired of blaming myself?

then, i see that my desires are all out of whack. i wanted a person, a purpose, a characteristic i don't possess, a status, a change, meaning, for my beard to be fuller on my cheeks and that spot between my soul patch and chin, and a ridiculous amount of things before i wanted to be with God. i thought that amassing all of those things would add up to a full life, a satisfied life. but as augustine said (in paraphrase): our hearts are restless until they find rest in God. our lives are empty until they are filled up with God, with Love itself, with holy ink.

deep down, i want God in everything in my life. but, i've got this habit of separating Him from a lot of things. this one hurts to write: God is not enough for me. obviously that is a subjective truth about my life that contradicts the objective truth that only God is truly enough. God is all i need: this is what i am working towards.

right now, i've got a dried up pen in a lot of areas of my life. i'm grateful for the places ink is not in short supply and i'm working on that God in everything process. i want to get to that place where i don't really care what i've got or where i am because i've got God and i'm in His arms.

wrinkled old man

2008-10-26T15:30:00.005-05:00

yesterday in conversation, a friend told me that she just had a really quick image of me in her mind as an old man, with gray in my beard and hair and wrinkles on my face from all my smiling and laughing. that observation made me really happy. it felt like a nice compliment. that passing thought made me think about my blessed life. wrinkles from smiles and laughter are welcomed by me, gray hair too for that matter.

life is hard. there is so much with which to struggle, to doubt and to dislike. a lot lately, i've found myself unsatisfied with theology and doctrine (even though i enjoy studying them both) and pithy church sayings. more questions come in theology, each answer begging another less satisfying question. it never ends. doctrine is so diverse, i wonder how we could ever really hold to something. the speech that flows so cavalierly from believers lips can have no meaning or weight because they are simply words.

i struggle.
God loves me.

i doubt.
God loves me.

i question.
God loves me.

i yell at Him.
He loves me.

if i may... what the crap? every time, He is there. every time, i feel God loving me. every time. sometimes that love confounds me. sometimes that love comforts me. sometimes it just angers me. i cannot turn away from it, i cannot help but feel it and i cannot begin to explain it. God loves me and it doesn't make sense.

so much doesn't make sense. the christian faith is reasonable, logical and well-defended. if apologetics are what you're after, you're in luck. there is proof everywhere. truthfully, i don't know if i care about that proof. i understand it but that isn't what convinces me. God still doesn't really make sense no matter how much i try to prove that He does.

because at the end of the day, at the start for that matter, i have to wrap my mind around God loving me. most days, that seems pretty unbelievable, a skeptic's unbelief. it's glorious, but crazy. the whole gospel is that: a stumbling block, foolishness. that's where its power is, for those who do believe. that's why it works, because it shouldn't. it isn't natural: it's divine. it doesn't really make sense, but it does give life.

i'm like thomas. i doubt and question and don't believe. i want to put my hand in Jesus' side, just to know he's real. but if the chance ever came, i think that i, like him, wouldn't go through with it. i'd rather just believe. and Jesus' words to him, to me, to us - "do not disbelieve, but believe...blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" - are why i'll have wrinkles, why i'm happy to have them. i have joy in that belief, joy which allows me to smile and laugh in the midst of complete and utter confusion.

beyond all doubt i believe deeply, in my core. i know God is there and, to steal a line from francis schaeffer, He's not silent. i know He loves me, because i've seen and felt it, not because i figured out how to manufacture it. i know He loves me because i love Him. i can never manufacture His love in me, oh how i've tried. God displays His love for me in ways i cannot explain, usually while i'm being completely petulant. His grace is sufficient, i'm actually believing that. and a subdued smile has washed over me just thinking about it. God, wrinkle me up.

scenes from escaping

2008-10-18T17:22:00.005-05:00

i find it necessary to explore portland. the reasons are simple: i do not know it & i don't like that. my sanity alone is enough of a motivating factor to leave. books on/of God, theological conversations, worship & church can all help to convey how big this created world is, how full of grace and beauty it is & how wonderfully artistic God's speaking of creation out of nothing actually is. nothing quite helps like seeing how ridiculous God really is. i've been blessed enough to see a decent sampling of the world, some very pretty places. i'll say this for portland: it measures up fairly easily.

once you find your way outside of the city, there are places that can swallow you. they'll sneak up on you & you'll be grateful they did because you wouldn't find them otherwise. a week or so ago, a friend & i went on a drive down the columbia river valley. we went to check out a couple scenic overlooks. one of them was the vista house.

that same trip, an intentional wrong turn & 14 miles between amazing old trees took us up to larch mountain. this day was blustery and terribly wet. the cold wind blew significantly cold precipitation into our faces as we laughed and hiked to what was to be a panoramic view of no less than 5 mountains on a clear day. obviously, it was not a clear day. when we summited, if you will, shepard's peak we found ourselves delightfully miserable & content with our surroundings. we were floating on a mountain in the clouds and fog. the view was like looking at grey-painted walls. it is a good memory of being so happy to be in miserable weather.

but we decided to come back when it cleared up someday. yesterday after class, we made the trip again & reality filled in the imaginary vistas we had created. i'm not sure which trip was better. there was something nice about being the only fools to accidentally stumble upon a mountain in the bitterness of a cold & rainy day when there was nothing to see but clouds- we did get to float as we shivered. here are some pictures i took with my phone, when we could see from a couple different escapes:

vista house

point of view

some place near the vista house, of
which i cannot remember the name

a random pond by trout creek camp

shepard's peak at larch mountain

what i think is mount hood

another view from shepard's peak at larch mnt

one of the things i love most about being here is the availability to escape. it doesn't take long to find your way to some place outrageously beautiful.

laurelhurst ducks

2008-10-12T22:47:00.007-05:00

if you would, i'd like you to imagine me spending a restful sunday afternoon seated upon a bench, overlooking laurelhurst pond (pictured above), letting the cool autumn air and the still warm sun compete for my affections as i looked out over the serene pond, a habitat for many a beautiful duck, spending their own sunday travelling back and forth, to and fro each side of the pond towards the many park-goers turned bread-tossers as the ducks filled their bellies with organic loaves of bread, organic because portlanders demand non-synthetic foods, even for their ducks- nay, especially for their ducks.

sundays are made for this. in fact, God, after 6 days of creation, no doubt sat on a cosmic bench much like mine. yet God's bench surely was much more infinite in essence, looking over the vastness of creation and ducks the likes man has never seen. what i am trying to say here, possibly & unintentionally sacrilegiously (yet hopefully not), is that the sabbath is good.

how nice it has been to simply be today.

for a few hours, i just sat calmly. i caught up with a few friends and family members also. but mainly i just sat, becoming one with the bench. while there, the two of us noticed a few things.

A) these ducks eat a lot of bread. again, these ducks eat a lot of bread. this carbo-loading led me to believe the ducks were going to be running a marathon. how adorable would that be, really: little ducks waddling and quacking for twenty-some-odd miles? adorable yes, yet it didn't seem right.

certainly, i thought to myself, ducks do not live on bread alone (wink-wink). two absurdly old women fed the ducks some type of grain, but that seemed like too much work for the ducks. they had to attempt to get these little things of grain off of the ground, which consisted mostly of small gravel. no doubt many of them ate a great deal of gravel with their grain. but outside of those two crotchety old women, they only ate bread.

B) when the bread came, no matter where it was coming from, the ducks flocked like children to an ice cream truck, children with a dollar that is. bread has a magnetic pull only affective on ducks and immigrants. there was no 'flying v' these ducks formed some type of rabid mob, intent on swiping every last crumb from their brethren. they went after those pieces of bread like kids after candy fallen from a piñata. however, i witnessed only one duck fight. they chased and quacked and flapped their wings angrily until two other ducks got in between them, breaking up the fight.

C) i enjoy watching ducks not chew. watching them choke down big hunks of bread made me feel much better about the way that i eat. yes, watching ducks eat did wonders for my self-esteem.

sadly, i could not leave my wondrous time alone. i had to reflect. i had to let the ducks eating all that bread bother me, on a metaphorical level.

as i strolled out of the park, i read a sign by the pond. basically, the sign was attempting to prevent folks from feeding bread to the ducks. apparently ducks, like people, don't live on bread alone. i don't remember exactly what the sign said, but i do remember this: bread is like cupcakes for ducks. now, initially i thought they really had it made. cupcakes, few would argue, are delicious.

i thought about it. realizing cupcakes are not a well-balanced diet in and of themselves and possibly/sadly not really a part of a well-balanced diet, i saw that we were doing the ducks a disservice. they know they can get as much bread from us as they want. ducks eat when they can, not when they are hungry. yet here we are, throwing cupcakes at them.

this bothered me, because church is like that too much. ministers throw cupcakes at people, who swallow them without every really chewing. once that minister doesn't have the right cupcakes, they swim to another one. neither of them gets what they need. they both get bloated and are of little use when it comes to fulfilling their purpose.

the church needs to go deeper than cupcakes. ministers can make them so readily available that the body forgets there is meat, vegetables and fruits- all those food pyramid things. it falls on the ministers to challenge their congregates to search and seek after God. it falls on the congregates to follow through on that challenge and to extend it back on the ministers. if the church is a body, all of its members need to follow hard after Christ.

writing this, i find myself grateful. i feel i have found a church not satisfied with the cupcakes available to us. for a while, i've wanted to be a part of a church like this, not that my church back home is content to eat cupcakes as a whole. it is a very different type of church than the one i go to in tennessee. i am sure God will shape and grow me as a part of it, however long that is.

something we need to ask ourselves and each other is whether or not we have settled ourselves into a body that is pushing each other to fuller worship, to fuller love and to fuller devotion. if we are in one that isn't, we don't necessarily have to leave. but we need to do everything we can to turn our church and ourselves back to the depth God calls us to.

man doesn't live on cupcakes alone, but on every word of God. we need substance back in our churches, speaking to us, feeding us.

i'm not sure about this one

2008-09-28T17:08:00.005-05:00

a few days back, in class, i couldn't really pay attention. my mind just wasn't processing anything anybody had to say. any ability to operate as a student left me, i was seceding from any realm of usefulness or function.

it is in times like these, that i will reach for a trusty journal (moleskin w/ graph paper), any slip of paper or even a napkin and let my pen (typically a pilot g2-07) and the paper have a conversation. much of the time i am removed, or feel removed, from the whole thing- like a spectator. so, i've decided to write out this last one. i've also decided not to edit it at all, which i may regret. so it will pretty much just be that specific thought process, which means i'm not really sure how much i'll buy into myself. also, it is quite long. also again, i'll reflect a little on it at the end.

---------------------------

"it feels like the problem with letting people know you is that they know you. in that knowledge they begin to see you as you are- your struggles, your weaknesses, your tendencies & flaws [not that i have those], and also your strengths, your gifts, your talents and the things that bring you satisfaction [not that i have any of those either].

they begin to be a part of that cleansing God has got you in- the process of sanctification, of reflecting what, in Christ, you will one day fully be & which to a degree you already are. i've always heard sanctification as being made holy, and that is good. but it seems to be more of a realizing that you are holy. the "be holy, for I am holy" by God is as much as a charge, a command as it is an invitation, especially after Christ's life. it is Jesus inviting us to share in that holiness. He does this not just through His life, death and resurrection but also by the giving of the Spirit.

this is why Jesus spoke with his disciples of the one that is to come which is greater than he was, though they are part of the same being. Jesus, God incarnate could only be with us, living alongside us but the Spirit is in us, living through us.

if i cannot see this, if i don't believe this, if i don't embrace this, than i only have the hope which my own will can inspire. i can only cling to the hope that my will might give me life: idolatry of the will. if that were true, Christ didn't need to come, why would he have come at all? so that i could gain life myself through discipline and moral thoughts/actions? He came to ready us for His Spirit and the divine community. Christ came to purify us, show us life by the Spirit and ready us to house Love, i have to remember that God is Love.

when we accept that grace, we are holy. we are no longer just some sinner, we are a new creation. sanctification is the realization of that, it is the uncovering of years of dirt to see the pure and spotless thing we now are in Christ. it comes from the inside, because it comes from the Spirit. it burns in us, until it consumes us. the more we realize and accept it as actually being there, the more we see who we are, who God has made us through that continual and constant grace.

letting people know you is a part of that. they can see the parts of you that shine like they are supposed to. but they can see the parts we still cover in a little dirt. they can see the things you have a tendency to make filthy, because some of that filth gets on them too- by your hand or their own. they see the places that seem to find their way into the muck and mire of living, because we can pull them in with us. they can see the spots you cannot reach, the dirt you never knew you had- behind your ears, in the middle of your back.

and when you've surrounded yourself with people who long to see you spotless, not those who want you to be covered in dirt so they feel clean in comparison, they will- in gentleness and love, through prayer and compassion- help you see those areas. if you already see them, they will help push you forward towards cleansing. they will take you to the fountain and push you into it. they will help keep you from getting dirty again and if you do, they will remind you who you are, that you don't have to cover yourself with dirt anymore, that this junk isn't a part of you anymore. you are clean and there is no need to run & dive into the mud again.

they can also see where God has shined and polished you, the places that reflect what God has done the brightest. they help you realize you have that because we cannot always see that either. our eyes are so drawn to and fixated on the dirt. i am so hard on myself, so critical, so aware of my filth. but they can see your shiny spots, the reflection of the Son draws their eyes like a blinking light in the sky at night. sure there are smudges, but they can see the purest parts of you, where you have been washed and cleaned by God. you are clean under all that dirt you apply and they would do anything so you might know that.

let that dirt be washed off, let if fall down, funnel towards the drain and let it go. enjoy who you now are, let that soak in. you are clean, don't jump back into that filth just because you got used to it. this might take time, but eventually you'll realize that you don't like being dirty. maybe you have already. we cannot clean ourselves. quit trying to do that and let God do it, realize He already has- if you are cleansed by the Lamb, if that Spirit dwells in you, lives in you, He already has. just 'cease striving and know that I am God' ps 46.10"

-------------------------------

yikes. it is interesting reading your own writing & thoughts and knowing that you are in the process of putting it on the internet without filter. here are a few things or thoughts about this. i find it interesting how i went back in forth from you, we and i. this wasn't written with the intentions of publishing it. it was written to me and at me- the me now and the me to be determined later. it is also interesting to me how sanctification has been on my mind lately. i cannot escape it. nor can i escape themes of community, what i would want it to be. i want relationships like the type i hinted at in this thing.

i think so much of that possibility hinges on us being willing to be known, to be vulnerable, to be willing to be hurt, to be willing to love someone, to be willing to be loved. sadly, we have not really given each other much confidence for doing that. we are so mean to each other sometimes. then, we are so guarded and protective of ourselves and i wonder if that isn't to the detriment of each other. how much we could learn from each other if we would just open up, relax and let go of our selves, the ones we have created, and actually be who we are. i think it would do so much for that void it seems so many feel, that lack of community, of companionship, of love.

addison

2008-09-23T17:44:00.005-05:00

well, i am officially an uncle. addison bedi made her way into the world early monday morning. here are my two favorite pictures thus far:

there is something about each of these pictures that makes me very happy. one is seeing my brother hold his daughter. it is funny to think that the guy that used to sit on my head and do unspeakable things. this is the guy who used to place his knees on my chest and stomach, forcing all the air out of my lungs in a painful fashion while letting a healthy collection of spit dangle from his mouth only to suck it back like a yo-yo time and time again. this is the same guy who would take his chin and, performing a move he would call the type-writer, forcefully ram it into my back and shoulders repeatedly. this same guy is now going to be raising a little girl.

i look forward to seeing that.

sadly, i have to look forward. currently, i can feel the gap between this place and that one. seeing the pictures make me sad to know that it will most likely be mid-december before i get to awkwardly hold her, fearing as though i am going to break her somehow, and also before i get to see my family and addison's parents hold her comfortably without fear of her falling apart because they know what they are doing when a baby is thrust upon them. but i won't get a real sense of those qualities that make addison uniquely her. i have to settle for descriptions and that just won't suffice for me. i want to smell her, hold her, hear her, feel her breathing.

the distance is noticeable.

today, the importance of family to me became much clearer. as i told a friend of my longing to be with my family, especially its newest member, he commented on how much my family seemed to mean to me. it took me off guard. i never really noticed that in me, at least not as something unique. i suppose i forget sometimes that not everybody has that. i do have a family i love and realize that i need to be grateful for it.

my family is just another item on the list of the ways God has blessed me, a list which seems to reveal more blessings each day. in his gospel john said we have received grace upon grace, or one blessing after another from God's fullness (1.16). i'm thankful God shares that fullness with us in such a personal way, in ways unique to each of us, ways that matter.

which brings me to the second picture. it would seem that her fingers are roughly the same length as my own. i am waiting for the picture of her palming a basketball. aside from the basketball potential, i can only hope this child will retain this trait of long fingers and develop a love of music. if she doesn't, her crazy uncle will force it upon her. i will sneak her off to piano and guitar lessons when her parents aren't looking. but that finger thing is the secondary issue.

i love how serene she looks. i love how calming that picture is. i'm sure there will be screaming and pooping and crying. but something about her resting here, one hand neatly fold over the other, relaxes and comforts me. it makes the distance feel both more and less concrete. i guess i'll take that.

High Quality Beached Whale explosion video

2008-09-19T17:02:00.001-05:00

"they blew up a whale. they didn't know what to do." cherylyn kettel- in a terrified voice.

injured, injured bad......

2008-09-18T22:09:00.001-05:00

i realize this is so very old. yet, i cannot express how happy this kid makes me. every time i smile. every time i love this kid more. every aspect of it makes me happy: the breathing, the inability to get it out, the disbelief of a man kicking someone in the penis, the slight lisp, the dimples, the high pitched you know what he did, the fact that he says penis as the location specifically, the injured- injured bad- with head shaking and the list goes on and on.

also good, is the karate one with this kid. "i need to check if my muscles are grown. ooh it's grown now. it's really grown now." this quote also makes me happy. this is easily 30 of my favorite seconds in the world. God bless this kid and whoever put a camera in front of him.

i realize the word penis is in this post a good deal more than usual. i don't care. grow up. it's a medical word.

the art of stalling

2008-09-08T09:18:00.006-05:00

today my very self will wage war with itself. it is civil war within me. the nobler side longs to saturate my mind with knowledge, wisdom and information that will benefit the whole of mankind. the side of lesser good will attempt to derail my endeavor with many trite distractions. it will say things like: "hey, check out this stuff on youtube," "you know, knock them all you want but the soaps are pretty awesome," "you should update your blog, it's been a week."

the war will play out, battles will be won by both sides (how can i resist my stories?) and ultimately i will finish what i need to before tomorrow. yet i will stall with all the artistry of jan van eyck (the arnolfini portrait could ring a bell). i will allow my mind to wander in glorious fields, but not to far. my mind will have a reasonable tether today. as soon as it begins to stray to far from the necessary work in front of me, time will yank it back in a swift jerking motion.

how time can disappear is amazing to me. i have found myself lately in a state of unbelief when i look at the clock. time is a major player in the art of stalling. the pressure that time brings is probably the hardest thing to deal with at school, but that isn't much different than anything else.

there is quite a bit of reading. if i did not enjoy reading, i am sure this would be much more of a difficulty. the issue is time. i am in a position where i must decide what is important to read carefully and what needs to be read quite casually.

because it has been a while since i was a proper student, i have had a hard time developing my reading filter. i have been reading a little too much like i did when time was completely open ended. no deadlines or assignments or expectations loomed over my head. i was able to allow the words on the page to engage me at our own pace. this is how i like to read.

i'll get to read that way again some time soon. but for now, it has to become something a little more mechanic. i have to be quick yet i still have to retain the information on the page. this is actually kind of a fun challenge. i need to relearn how to carefully read very quickly.

monday is a day free from class for me. i have a weekly 3-day weekend. yet my weekly holiday is spent trying to accomplish most, if not all, my week's work. i have attempted to seek out places that will be conducive to this feeble attempt.

today, i will venture to my new favorite bookstore, powell's. the link to the left or above, depending on the size of your computer screen, will not capture the splendor of powell's. the one i like to go to is a full city block. i'd also like to point out that saul bellow is part of the reason it exists. that is important.

other places of interest:
-the grotto: the national sanctuary of our sorrowful mother. this features splendid views, serene walks, a glass walled room on a cliff with an awkwardly life-like and extremely white mary and blond-haired, blue-eyed child and very comfortable leather chairs and, finally, no less than one very uptight security guard.
- rocky butte: an amazing panorama view of portland. i was there with a group as the sun was setting. it is quite a site to see. the link basically has a few of photos of it to the left. it has great lights.

i will periodically, hopefully, continue to add places of interest. it is only a matter of time. i just have to figure out when neglecting school is the right thing to do and when i am just wanting to be a little lazy. obviously, this post is one big attempt at delaying my heroic dive into the world of scholarly endeavors. i'll consider that attempt a solid success. stalling is an art. if it prevents you from accomplishing what you need/want to, then it has not been done well. however, if you are able to entertain the many distractions while completing the race, so to speak, then you've got something as artistic as team rhythmic gymnastics.

reason's last step

2008-08-31T10:21:00.003-05:00

i just read this on espn.com from columnist matt mosley:

"Right now I'm in sort of an emotional state because the moderate Baptists from Baylor lost to another Baptist school (Wake Forest) that may or may not believe in full immersion. But I have seen the future of college football, and his name is Robert Griffin."

it is interesting how theology plays into our lives. theology is so closely attached to how we look at everything. this quote was obviously a joke, which i get. the thing that makes it equal parts funny and sad is that it isn't really a joke for some.

there are truly no people that are immune from having theology, from being theologians. it is a necessary part of humanity: the God question. we form opinions, make declarations and act on them- with a lot of being confused. most of the time, at least to me, there is an emphasis on the being confused part.

the confusion part is actually one of my favorite parts of theology, of thinking about God. i suppose the confusion, a good portion awe, helps me to know God really is. i'll never be able to understand or explain the trinity beyond the simple. i'll never really understand questions of suffering. i'll have answers and thoughts on those things, sure. but i'll always just be guessing, albeit an educated and explored guess. i believe having these ideas matters. at some point though, it doesn't.

at some point, it doesn't matter if you are amellinial, post-mellinial or pre-mellinial, dispensationalist or otherwise. to a degree, it doesn't matter whether you believe in sprinkling, dunking or another form of baptism. there are so many disputed aspects of the diverse and collective theology of the church. some matter more than others. i am saying that these things matter, that theology matters. there needs to be balance.

but that point where it stops mattering, is when that theology, your system of thought and that belief structure replaces God. you've stopped caring to know Him. you've started caring solely to know about Him. theology is missing the point, when it isn't personal with the divine creator and sustainer of life.

for me, a week into seminary, all of the above is going to be a part of my task. this is something i had a hard time doing for a part of my undergrad experience. i would hate to see my love for the completeness of God be overwhelmed by the complexities. i don't want to figure him out. i want to love him more, know him more, serve him more, trust him more, listen to him more...

so if i get to sound like i'm letting much of this stuff i'm studying here stay in my head, please remind me how much more it matters to have it in your heart, in your gut. remind me that and, from time to time, remind yourself.

pascal says this: "reason's last step is to recognition that there are an infinite number of things which are beyond it. it is merely feeble if it does not go as far as to realize that."

triple play

2008-08-30T16:32:00.004-05:00

last night, i was able to work three wonderfully random movie references into conversation with one of my new classmates. they were as follows:

teen wolf,
ladybugs,
and sister act 2i was really happy with myself because none of them were forced. each naturally fit into the conversation. now this person believes i only watch movies of a lesser quality. i really enjoy the tag line on the ladybugs poster.

willie nelson

2008-08-26T17:30:00.004-05:00

there is a moment in the first season of lost which i can site as the start of me loving it. it happened on the episode when the survivors are deciding whether they will dwell on the beach, with the faint hope of being spotted, or moving into the caves, for added protection and fresh water.

as they settle down in their respective camps, hurley begins listening to an old willie nelson song. this link will get you to it. the song asks "are you sure this is where you want to be?" it stayed with me, burrowed deeply into my head to haunt me periodically in my life. it stayed with me then, because i wasn't where i wanted to be.

it was where i needed to be though. i needed to be in a place where i was searching for meaning and purpose, a statement all to easy to make in hindsight. at the time, i felt mostly guilt and an alarming sense of failure that i wasn't at that place, a place not even defined at all.

i wasn't sure where i wanted to be exactly. willie nelson only rubbed my face in the dirt, although he kept it "between you and me." i was sure i didn't want to be where i was at the time i watched this episode. i desired a place that didn't exist- not in my mind, not anywhere- and felt burdened that i could not actualize that desire. that is a lot of pressure to put on yourself, unfair and unreasonable as it was.

the only bit of hope i had was that i was where God wanted me to be. as trite as that can sound, it was my only bit of comfort. deep within me i knew it mattered more where He wanted me and i was trying to find that. i knew that i would be more satisfied following his guidance than pursuing things in which God was not present.

now i don't expect you to believe that i've pursued His will perfectly or even, at times, that well . but i feel like those times when i followed the Savior's leading into the places i was sure i didn't want to be were pivotal to the now and to the place He is taking me.

this all comes to mind because that old willie nelson song is back in my head this week. it has been running through it periodically, asking that question: are you sure this is where you want to be? this school, this state, this city: are you sure?

for the first time in a long time, i have a winsome grin when that song plays through my head. i'm pretty sure i am where i want to be. the part that makes it all the more sweet, is that i feel like that divine want and my want are in sync.

it seems like, as a christian, those two things are always supposed to line up. but the Bible is full of examples of them not lining up. there is something to that. it is as if God is saying "i know this isn't easy, this not my will but thine process." that helps me. it helps to know that i am in a course of being made more like Him, of being sanctified. it helps to know, in time, where i want to be will be purely where He wants me to be.

the desires of my heart that the Lord is going to give me as that popular verse in psalm 37 tells us come when and after i learn to delight myself in Him. that isn't about getting what i want, but about finding the joy that comes from longing for God and what He wants- then actually seeing those wants come to fruition.

i suppose the reason i like lost and that this particular scene stuck with me is that it shows the choices people make about who they are within a community or even the community with which they are going to identify. it expressed something of what i was going through, the wondering of what i was intended to do- not just with my life but with my days. in fact i'm grateful to lost and, of course, to willie nelson for asking me that question so often and preventing me from being willing to accept my initial answer. blessed assurance often seems to start with near-complete uncertainty.

scenes from the road

2008-08-25T15:20:00.005-05:00

this, as some of you might recall, is the noid. now, domino's pizza had strict instructions on avoiding the noid. but how could i resist it? he has been riding on my "trip reset" button for many a moon- possibly 7 years. he gets very upset when i speed and was my only travelling companion. special thanks to judson abernathy for giving me the "yo noid" nes game on my birthday years ago.

young bearded men

2008-08-22T14:04:00.005-05:00

pulling into my first gas station in oregon, i was immediately approached by a young-bearded man (ybm) wanting to pump my gas. what follows is the readers digest condensed version of our interlude.

me: that's alright. i know what i'm doing.
ybm: no, really, i'll pump your gas.
me: no man, i appreciate it. but i really can do this.
ybm: it's against the law.
me: sorry?
ybm: it's against the law for you to pump your own gas.
me: really?
ybm: yeah, it's illegal here and in new jersey. i guess people were starting fires.
me: oh, okay.
ybm: you want me to fill it up?
me: oh, okay.
ybm: you were like: "what the f__ is this guy doing?"
me: yeah, i was... to a degree.
ybm: welcome to oregon. you'll get used to it.

his words carried more sentimental meaning and unintentionally inspired more hope than i ever expected from filling up my tank. "you'll get used to it." i'm sure he was only talking about the gas laws, but i'd like to think he was painting with a broader brush.

"sure, it might be a little bit of a struggle at first. but i know you. you'll get used to it" says the young-bearded man. "you're going to be fine. if you don't believe me, i'll even offer to clean your windshield to convince you." at least, that is how it went after i left.

that's been the general feeling i've had this first few days. things are unexpected and new, but kind of nice at the same time. it is kind of nice having random bearded men fill up your gas tank (there is nothing not hetero about that comment).

you know, it reminds me of another young-bearded man that used to walk through this world a long time ago, giving people wisdom and encouragement, blessing people, filling up their tanks and cleaning up the windshields of his day. it was my great-great uncle svetozar bjelica bedi who you might remember me discussing in my yurt post. ah, old uncle toz.

the bottom line is that God is continually speaking to us. He is talking us through our days, encouraging us in our actions and, in general, loving us more than we could know in ways we sometimes don't see. that is having the Spirit in us. now, this is hard to get used to because it is constantly amazing.

we get in trouble when we allow ourselves to get "used to" God. there is just too much to Him for that. it is hard to worship Him, in any way, when we are used to Him. sometimes, like job, we need God to remind us of the great things He has done. it reminds us that He is far beyond our image, our expectations of God.

oregon

2008-08-20T09:46:00.002-05:00

i am now in oregon. as far as i can tell, i do not have dysentery. it has been a beautiful drive. i had about three hours yesterday of purely remarkable driving as the sun was starting to set. i have pictures that won't do it justice. i'll see about getting a few on the inter-web.

the land of farmer's daughters

2008-08-18T09:01:00.003-05:00

that's right, i'm in iowa for the briefest of spells (sbtb reference above). i am awakened now and about to partake in my "free" continental breakfeast (that misspelling is not an accident). i'm not sure what continents that will be represented. there will be waffles.

the driving has been just fine. i went through missouri for a while, passing through kansas city as the sun set. it was nice to know that my kansas city royals hat would finally be home. it is used to people questioning my fandom.

in fact, there is this guy from kansas city that works at the publics i would always go to. with this man, i have had no less than 6 conversations, really more like one conversation acted out 6 times. if i wanted, i could answer his questions when he starts his sentances. that might freak him out. i'm also somewhat sure that he tells all his kc friends that there are something like 6 royals fans that come into the grocery store he works at in nashville.

i should get into idaho today. the unicorn is being such a trooper. but what would you expect from a majestic, mythical creature?

i'm off

2008-08-17T09:41:00.002-05:00

the quickest point from a to b is not always a straight line. it depends on how you are going to get there. according to google maps, it would take me 35+ days to walk this route. i'll keep that in perspective as i question my decision to drive instead of fly out there.

the road

2008-08-13T18:10:00.002-05:00

today i read the following sentence: the road is never long between friends.

firstly, yes it is. sometimes it is very long. sometimes it is too long. i've even experienced there not being a road at all, it ended at the metaphorical atlantic ocean.

this sunday, i'll be driving my 93' legend roughly 2400 miles from my home in franklin, tennessee to multnomah biblical seminary in portland, oregon. if God put a straight line road east to west across australia (the 6th largest country in the world), it would be roughly how far i am driving. that is a pretty long road, even for friends. just google map nashville to portland. i'm an idiot.

i don't care what the happy people at hallmark or whoever came up with the quote above tell you, distance is hard on any relationship. and that distance, or that road if i may, can feel longer and longer, making you feel more and more alone.

these are the kind of fears that accompany any kind of drastic geographical relocation. i worry about my relationships with friends here at home, even though some of those often feel distant while we are 7 minutes away. i think about college and how many of my friendships have faded away. these people i was so close to i now pseudo-spy on with facebook, during my monthly visits.

it is amazing how that happens. i can only blame the road, the space between a and b. it is natural. you stay close to some and in a few years probably forget the name of the others. distance has a way of weaning out relationships. some you miss more than others.

wow, this has become bleak. yeah michael phelps! woo-hoo!

with that transition, i'll become a little more positive. with the relocation come the opportunity of new relationships, new friendships. the distance can either motivate you to seek those out, or you can let it lock you in your room, pining for the moment you get to go home.

i'm not the kind to pine. i'll get a little wistful thinking about yesteryear whenever i have a worther's original, but don't carry the desire for the past that is associated with pining. so i guess that leaves me on the other side.

i'm hopeful for what is out there for me. it is a part of my life that has been coming for the last four years. it is something i've prayed about more than a few times. it is comforting to know it is almost here.

i feel like i'm being faithful, not only to the call on my life, but to God's leading in general. that has been my goal in life, to always say yes to Him.

this saying yes has put me in strange and sometimes uncomfortable places but also provided me with amazing experiences and the chance to know amazing people. sunday morning it will have me in a 15-year old car driving across australia (figuratively) with high gas prices , a sad amount of money in my bank-account and no cruise-control. i'll have plenty of time to ask God what the heck i'm doing. maybe some day i'll have an idea. for right now, i'm just trying to say yes.

word verification

2008-07-09T10:42:00.003-05:00

lately, i've become upset with word verification features on websites. i am primarily upset because it is never actually words i'm being asked to type. it is generally a hodgepodge of letters, typically including the letters q,z & x- my achilles heels of typing. to add to the confusion, they are wavy or camouflaged in a way that makes me wonder what they want from me. there are times when they will add in numbers, only adding to the confusion. is this a 0 or an o (zero or the letter o)?

all i'm asking for is actual words, like cat or dog. those i can type.

USA!!?

2008-07-04T17:27:00.004-05:00

being the 4th of july, my eyes, along with the eyes of a nation, were fixed upon the ever-growing arena of competitive eating. the nathan's hot dog eating competition has become as tied to the 4th as fireworks and has become, arguably, even more american than apple pie (something that seems curiously european to me).

eating in such excess seems like such an odd thing to televise. this is one event my german friend would point to as "typically american." in response to such accusations i would quote a random man from many 4th's ago: you'd better believe it.

competitive eating does seem to be a product of american excess. it does seem a bit unnecessary and a bit wasteful, perhaps a product of a country where bigger is better (even technology that is getting smaller is getting bigger in some ways- your ipod, though smaller, has more storage).

this 'american' competition has, in the last few years been dominated by takeru kobayashi, of japan- seen below with the eye of the tiger and the mouth of a messy eating infant.
thus, it is only natural for americans to rally around the first american to offer a serious challenge to the japanese champion: joey chestnut , looking as miserable as a person could possibly look... ever.last year, chestnut regained the title- albeit with an asterics beside it due to kobayashi's 'jaw issues.' this year's competition was the rematch, the rocky II, the chance to see who really was the best. it did not dissapoint. chesnut wins in overtime after they both ate 59 in regulation, eating 5 hot dogs faster than his foe in the "dog-off."

america! usa! the red, white and blue!
patriotism flowed.

yet for some reason it bugged me, as much as i was enthralled by all the drama. it feels like america is becoming less and less __________.

i just cannot put my finger on it. but it feels like we can matter a little less. saying that, i immediately realize that statement doesn't make sense. we are probably the most influential country in the world. maybe we matter in ways that really don't matter. that is why we matter less.

we send out a culture with very little depth, full of shallow celebrities and shallow thought. we send out athletes, musicians and actors that are completely detached from actual life or completely absorbed with themselves. we celebrate american patriots like joey chestnut- though he seemed like one of the few involved that realized how silly it really was. but it would be nice to see us use our influence in ways that didn't seem so fleeting.

now, i'm not trying to sound like a party-pooper. i did enjoy watching the hot dog competition. i do realize that it is supposed to be something light, that it is very tongue-in-cheek and that it takes itself seriously in an intentionally absurd way. it is supposed to be a little stupid. i get that and enjoy it.

i just feel like we are losing our depth. i fear that for the Church here too. i fear we are becoming a little more insignificant.

i hope that this isn't the case. i hope we are beginning to find our meaning in Christ rather than buildings or curriculum or anything else the Church might mistakingly make its foundation. i hope that we are actually becoming what Jesus prayed for us to be in john 17.

i know this is a strange bit of writing to tie to a hot dog competition. which is why i'll end this with a quote that makes much more sense than i did. it is from 'celebration of discipline' by richard foster. actually, it's the first paragraph.

"superficiality is the curse of our age. the doctrine of instant satisfaction is a primary spiritual problem. the desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people."

we need that depth. we get it by seeking meaning and Truth. it only comes by grace, through and in Jesus.

attack

2008-07-03T15:10:00.002-05:00

i'm not sure why i'm posting this. the only reason i can find is that it happened while i was on the computer.

i just watched a bird fly into the window of my house. i turned my head to a blueish blur coming towards the window. there was then a thump on the window and that blur fell to the ground.

after checking to see if what i assumed to be a bird was still alive, a second bird flew all around the porch. the first bird, now on the floor, only looked a little daunted and surprised.

this really freaked me out. it is still sitting there. i guess it is a little freaked out too.

a late-night fight

2008-06-23T16:35:00.003-05:00

at roughly 12:15 am, a knocking on the male staff's bedroom door awakened us. 'there was a fight,' declared a adolescent girl with her michigander's accent. we begrudgingly got out of our beds to assess the situation, expecting to find a couple of battered young gentlemen.

it turned out that the fight was between a couple of two-girl gangs, technically the smallest sized gang you can have. this only added to our sleepy stupor.

now, i can merely speculate as to the events that led up to this clash. when we- now acting as police detectives (no mooning was involved)- conducted our interviews with the highly emotional young ladies, our ears were met with high-pitched sobbing and out-of-breath attempts at speech. the frequencies were much too high to allow us to decipher any of their stories.

their youth leader, a 6'7" giant of a man, was fetched to defuse the volatile situation. things began to unfold as we spoke with one of the calmer girls, the only girl whose voice registered with our ears.

somewhere along the line, a girl had angered another one with hurtful words. the offended girl reacted to these harsh criticisms with a slap of the neck and pull of the hair.

when one of the youth leaders inquired as to why she had pulled the hair of and slapped the other girl, the barely holding it together teenager, with much sobbing, replied........

"it was my carnal instinct."

i had much trouble not laughing at this. but i pulled it together.

the other staffers were busy uncovering more of the story. it turned out that some liquid had been poured out over the bed of one of the gangs. a highly tearful and emotional young lady declared, "they poured water all over our beds."

the other girl, coming back down from all of the drama, retorted.....

"that wasn't water. it was pop." (the pop was drawn out with a classic northern accent)

as the behemoth youth minister emerged with his shirt off, we let him take over the investigation. in telling the story to the large, shirtless bear of a man, one of the girls made the mistake of angering him. he started to become very loud.

i began to whisper to him in an attempt to get him to use his inside voice, ushering the lot of them to a room away from the rest of the innocent and sleeping groups of non-gang members.

we sat in the hall way for the next 40 minutes as the situation was resolved. they emerged from the room, teary eyed and exhausted. emotions sure can be draining, am i right or am i right?

the next day, the girls assured me everything was great. they were back to being bff's. if anything, this will make their new, 4-person gang stronger. sometimes you need these little tiffs to get past the speed bumps keeping you from really getting to know someone. it could be seeing their limits, seeing parts of you that are less than flattering. sometimes just seeing your "carnal instinct" out in the open is enough to bring us back to civilization, peace and harmony.

i'll say this: even though they ruptured my eardrums with their boiling-teapot-like voices, they also ruptured the hardness in my heart when they learned to love each other again.
God love em.

fun with drunks

2008-06-14T19:41:00.006-05:00

for the past two weeks i have been busy reconstructing in the nashville area. you can check out reconstruct with the link to the right or by clicking here. reconstruct is a ministry i really do love. though it is exhausting, it is extremely rewarding to see volunteer groups of youth help fix the homes of people in need.

sometimes people don't seem to catch the vision. for instance, just this past week i encountered such a person.

pulling up to the house to check on one of our groups, i noticed a sun-burned, shirtless man in jorts (jean-shorts (tebow)) standing in the front of the lawn yelling at the kids on the roof.

'this should be fun,' i thought to myself. i put the car in park, took a deep breath and opened the door to hear a slurry of what i shall call unfriendly words geared towards me.

it became quite obvious that this man, i'll just call him jerry, was more than a bit inebriated. jerry was covered in a number of strange welts, as if he had rolled around in some type of prickly bushes just for kicks and drunken giggles. when i took a look at the back of his head, i could do nothing but admire the rat tale he must have so painstakingly maintained since the mid-eighties.

the belligerent jerry decided i was to blame for an alleged mooning from two of the kids from this group. the kids denied it, the adults didn't see it but jerry was quite convinced that he had seen to adolescent derrieres exposed in his general direction. he preceded to accost me with a verbal onslaught that would make sailors uneasy, provided those sailors liked to use an excess of profanities and poor grammar.

i apologized more times than i should have, with each attempt to move past this incident resulting in more and more squiffy retorts coming from jerry. it is as if each time i told him it was wrong of those kids to do that, we were very sorry and would punish the children was as offensive as somebody exposing their hindquarters on an unexpected swiller.

as the conversation went on, jerry decided he should call the police. this was just plain silly for him to do. yet the bibber had lost the ability to reason out this situation quite some time ago, judging by the rat tail.

he dialed 911, reported the mooning and talked to me as if i had better get ready for my stay in prison.

thank God he did that. the phone call meant i didn't have to speak with him any more. we would wait for the cops to arrive and let them sort it out.

jerry would yell something at me across the street. i would yell back that we weren't talking until the police arrived. this actually made him a bit sad. it is as if he was a little boy that kept doing something long after i'd asked him to stop, never really believing i would take the toy away. i did take away my ears for him to yell in and my face in which he would waive and point his arms and fingers. yes, he looked a like a sad little boy when i told him to be quiet, a sweaty derelict of a child.

the police finally arrived, as did the higher ups of reconstruct. jerry was greeted by the officer with "we're tired of seeing you jerry. what is it this time?" jerry preceded to lay out his accusations with passion, vigor and absolutely no lucidity whatsoever. it was actually quite fun to watch.

the police officer gave him an option: he could let it go or go to prison for public intoxication. with the wisdom of solomon, jerry opted to drop it. i guess he was less pickled than i originally estimated.

with that, we gave our side of the story. we said that we don't think the kids did what jerry accused them of doing. the officer said, given the chance, he probably would have mooned jerry himself.

he said this with a bit of remorse. as a police officer, he was held to a higher standard and could not go about pulling his pants down towards possible law-breakers. although that would be an interesting crime-fighting tactic. it would confuse the perpetrators. the officer assured us we wouldn't have any trouble from him and went his way.

jerry gave up the dream and didn't bother the crew again.

we went our separate ways. yet i know jerry and i will always have a special bond. it is a connection built on love and sensitivity. he pushed me to the edge of my patience: spitting in my face so generously, nearly poking me oh so many times, etc. i thank him for it.

"jerry," if you're out there reading this, or if you can even read this, i love you man. maybe we can go rolling around in a thicket sometime or i could put some beads on that rat tail of yours. whatever you're up for buddy, i'm game.

3:30 wake up call

2008-05-27T15:00:00.003-05:00

i'm not really a "cat-person." before i get started, i'd just like to take a second to say that i try judge animals on an animal-to-animal basis. i feel it unfair to judge an entire species based on a lovable or even loathable family pet. thus, i'm not really a "dog-person" either.

there are both dogs and cats i'd like to be guilty of "dropkicking off of a porch and killing it," to quote a favorite prayer of forgiveness for the uncle of a girl that went to our church when i was a kid. on the more humane side, there are animals i do enjoy and, on occasion, like to pet. the past few nights, the family cat has been the former (one i'd like to kick).

it has become silas' pattern to migrate to my room in the wee hours of night to sleep on my window sill. i suppose he likes the view. it is usually a quiet affair.

however, the past two nights at roughly 3:30 am another cat has found it enjoyable to sit directly in front of my window, causing silas to freak out.

i have been awakened to the ambulance-like cry of this awful beast, accompanied by the completely unsoothing sound of him hissing like a cappuccino machine. if there was ever a time for me to be violent, it is at this early hour.

the first night, it lasted for 20 minutes. i tried so many things to get him to stop. i even closed the blind. this only made it louder, with a higher level of freaking out than i've ever heard from a living being. i finally had to go chase away the neighboring hell spawn of a cat, in my dickensian nighttime attire (robe, sleeping cap, slippers and candle).

to my relief, this brought peace back to my slumber. last night, i just started with chasing away the other cat. my great concern, is that this could become routine- every night at 3:30, waking up to chase away a cat. my great relief is that i won't really have to deal with it. i will not be living there much longer and will have no pet in portland, nothing to wake me up in the middle of the night except my own hopes and fears.

thus, i won't need the classic prayer that young girl offered up. i will kick no cat off of the porch, killing it. though it is possible i will kick a certain cat off of my bed, as gently as possible.

Indiana Jones Jumps Jaws & Extra-Cholesterol

2008-05-23T16:29:00.008-05:00

wednesday night, just before midnight i gathered at the movie theatre with most of franklin high school, many a geek and some friends to watch the newest addition to the indiana jones lore. the atmosphere was fantastic. people were genuinely delighted to be there. you only get this type of exuberance from crowds like this, unwilling to wait for the sensible matinée the next day.

if someone is willing to put off sleep to watch a movie as soon as possible, there isn't a good chance that they are there to hate it- at least i hope not. how sad it would be for people to seek out disappointment like that.

it is hard not to get caught up in the moment, the excitement of it all in this setting. there was even applause for the previews, little flashes of movies that are completely unproven (ahh previews, i could watch them for hours). there was so much build-up, so much to live up to.

lucas didn't think it could. he seemed to fear this type of hype, this type of excitement. perhaps jar jar has him afraid of any kind of expectation. i wouldn't blame him for that. at times, the guy sounds like the joy of film making was sucked out of him. he said in an interview people think it is going to be like the second coming but that:

"it's just a movie. just like the other movies. you probably have fond memories of the other movies. but if you went back and looked at them, they might not hold up the same way your memory holds up."

this is not the voice of a man who still gets a charge out of making films or that appreciates how cinema can touch people, not like spielberg at least. lucas did say it was a blast to make, that it was fun and that he thinks it turned out fantastic. i just don't know if i believe him. simply stated: i don't trust george lucas.

i had the chance to watch a documentary called "spielberg on spielberg" last night. it is amazing how personal his films are. i also found it interesting to hear him talk about ET (a film my grandma refers to as 'ET: The Extra-Cholesterol'). he refered to it as his most spiritual film. i surely do agree. i love the themes of solitude and community within it. simply stated: i do trust steven spielberg.

thus, i went into this with a natural bias. i was concerned because of lucas, but willing to put hope in spielberg to take care of our beloved action/adventure/archaeologist.

so how was the film? oh, so many ways to answer this question. i generally liked it. the movie was so close to being really good.

but the word that haunted me immediately was plausibility. unlike the first three, there was just too much in this movie that i wasn't willing to believe. primarily, it was shia lebeouf's tarzan act and some waterfall jumping. these things took away from my enjoyment of this film, a film which is still really enjoyable.

the first act is fantastic, perhaps to the detriment of the rest of the film. it is hard to climb over the very high bar the movie set for itself from the very beginning. the last half of the film suffered from the highly entertaining beginning. just one question about the beginning: what's up with all the gofers? perhaps it was an homage to caddyshack- if only they would have danced to kenny loggins' terrible music.

lebeouf and ford were fantastic together. lebeouf has the capacity to be a bona fide star, and i'm alright with that. he had me at "old man." there was genuine chemistry between the main cast and lebeouf's screen presence easily matched ford's.

the diner/fight scene might be my favorite in the film. but i feel like they rode that motorcycle right up a ramp to peru and jumped swiftly over a shark tank- possibly containing one of the relatives of the shark from jaws. (jaws 3 not only jumped the shark figuratively; they did it literally and in 3-d).*

here is my depiction:

i digress.

the ladies of indiana jones iv were great(still crossing my fingers for the calendar). but when is cate blanchett not great? for that matter, when is karen allen not enjoyable? in truth, it was just nice to see her again. add the look on jones' face when he sees marion again to things i loved about the movie. ford really showed up for what feels like the first time in a really long time, no more so then his reaction to seeing her again.

really, there wasn't a bad performance in the movie, if you don't include some of the cgi. john hurt, jim broadbent and ray winstone were very solid though their characters weren't really given much, especially broadbent's. as a bonus, it was nice to see scrubs let neil flynn out of his jumpsuit for a small part. you could hardly ask for better cast and performances. but the story took, what i feel, are unnecessary and distracting turns. as much as it couldn't live up to its hype, it just couldn't match the spectacular first half of the film.

ultimately/unfortunately, i think lucas was right in his fear. the movie is fun to watch, in many ways fantastic. it doesn't measure up to the first or third of the series. temple of doom still dwells at the bottom for me. even with its faults this one was good, a solid third for me.

exiting the theater, the words "i blame lucas" came falling out of my mouth. i suppose i blamed him for all the shortcomings- mostly because he has become an easy target. but i also blame him for making me go into it guarded, not expecting to love it, prepared for it to be 'just a movie.' i was left confused a bit about just how i felt. of course, it was three in the morning.

it definitely belongs with the other films. it is an indiana jones movie, not just an attempt at one.
i guess i'd give it a b.

thank you for indulging my nerdity. i'd also like to hear opinions of the film from the bold among us.

--------------------------------------------------------
* "jumping the shark" is a phrase used to denote when a movie or tv series plot veers off into an absurd direction, some ridiculous storyline is introduced, or it becomes out-of-the-ordinary or unbelievable. it refers to an episode of the
fading 'happy days' when the fonze jumps over a shark on water skis. i fear 'lost' might do this someday (they are teetering on the edge perpetually and i love them for it).

i'm gonna be an aunt!!

2008-05-19T14:03:00.003-05:00

it was a typical college afternoon. i was simply sitting at my desk, working diligently on what i'm sure was a well thought out, reasonably argued paper with quite profound depth and insight while listening to various concertos. yes, that is how i remember school to be.

suddenly my door burst open as a close friend of mine, mike, came rushing towards me with the type of excitement only matched by elementary-aged children on Christmas morning. without an inch of composure, mike blurts out the following sentence:

"I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT!!!!"

i was confused, mainly due to gender related reasons. trying to slow him down, make him think about what he was saying, i asked him to repeat his sentence.

this second attempt was the same. mike, my clearly male friend, was going to be an aunt. i asked him to explain.

"my brother and his wife are having a little baby girl. I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT!"

"ohhhh, i see where you're confused, mike." i try to inform him about how this whole family tree thing works. "you'll be an uncle, always an uncle. you'll have a niece. if it were a boy, you'd have an nephew and you'd still be an uncle. the terms uncle and aunt are relative to your sex."

i think he knew he had it wrong. he simply didn't care, telling me so. in fact, he left the room with the same energy he entered. on the way out he offered me one more "i'm gonna be an aunt." i'm sure he went on down the hall, interrupting hard-at-work samford-ites, confusing every last one of them with his proud declaration.

so in honor of mike's gusto and joy let me join him in his cry: I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT! my own brother and sister-in-law are having a baby girl: addison (not sure if that's spelled correctly).

it is nice having people around you that have the capacity to be so happy that simple things like gender-appropriate terms for family relationship get lost in the joy. i've always been more stoic than i'd like to be, which sometimes looks like me not being happy. but it genuinely does make me happy to see my friends and family doing well and enjoying life, not caring about much else.

i was asked, not long ago, what kind of thing makes me happy. this is right up there at the top of the list. i love seeing people filled with joy. i feed off that. i've found nothing better than seeing people genuinely content, especially when it is in Christ. it is amazing the type of energy people with this type of joy will inspire in everyone around them.

i aim for that in my own life. i desire that "i'm gonna be an aunt" joy in my life all the time. as far as i know, the best source for that is the Author of Life, the One who came that we might have life, and have it to the fullest. so i'll, seek that.

besides, it is too much to ask of my siblings to constantly be having kids. it just doesn't make any fiscal sense, not with the economy as it is and gas prices.....oy vey. (please excuse the yiddish)

the news

2008-05-12T18:30:00.002-05:00

so i'm sitting in this random coffee shop, one of three customers. this gentleman before me looks like the type that could be part of some mafia, italian or otherwise. he has been riveted to his work, minus the continual second-long glances at the television, on the news and inaudible above him.

all of a sudden, i see his gaze lock on the television. curious now, i look too. there must have been something serious going on for this man to prolong his look towards the tv.

it turns out it was an ad for the new sex and the city movie.

i did not see that coming. of all the things one would expect to interest this man- the floods, the disasters, the latest o.j. simpson story- it was this ad for what i can only assume will be an awful movie.

the second it ended, he was back to work and never looked again at the television. i suppose this is what he was looking for with all those glances. it just didn't add up. i don't understand why anybody would care about this, especially this man who, as i just learned thinks that using ketchup for french fries and bbq sauce for chicken nuggets is a 'no-brainer.' this coffee shop makes me uncomfortable.

all that to say, i've been accepted into multnomah biblical seminary in portland, oregon. so i guess i'll be moving to portland in the fall. i just don't know if the unicorn will make it (a reference that will confuse only some).

Appliance Direct! (White Porcelain)

2008-05-01T19:51:00.001-05:00

coincidentally, they use to call seth worley 'white porcelain' in high school. i'll say this for the guy: he's got charisma. i suppose that means i'd feel comfortable buying any number of appliances from him.
oh, why the heck not?

I LOVE APPLIANCES!!

his love has inspired me on this day.

the century mark

2008-04-30T19:38:00.000-05:00

i figured the best way to celebrate the 100th post was with some cake (yet another festive 'paint' creation from yours truly). i am quite proud of my ribbon work, the flames and my handwriting. enjoy.

*warning: cake may contain toxins and chemicals harmful to expectant mothers and left handers, but it does look delicious.

post 99

2008-04-29T15:10:00.004-05:00

yikes, if i may.

somehow i've almost hit the triple digits in posting (it only took me 2 years and roughly 4 months to do it). but i've neglected it for the last few weeks and that is only slightly wrong.

i do like music. there are certain songs that i relate with certain experiences and memories.

'flight of the bumblebee' takes me back to a talent show where one judson abernathy and myself let our imaginations take us on a voyage that, to this very moment, makes me laugh much like a school boy deep down within.

'i want to know what love is' takes me back to middle school love and an emotional car ride with my then girlfriend/older woman whitney wiggins. this took place within my prime (7th to 8th grade)

'how bizarre' takes me to those first days of experiencing the freedom of the first days of driving with friends and one-hit wonders.

the list goes on and on, making me all the more wistful as each song plays in my head. it is amazing to me how the mind will tie things like this to our experiences. our lives have soundtracks, music that plays in the background or that defines the moment.

when i look back at moldova and my time there, two of my favorite moments revolved around a song. one, was the infamous ray parker ghostbuster's incident which involved air guitar and the gyrating hips of the boys i worked with and my own child-bearing set. the other, perhaps less familiar, took place on the most dreaded means of transportation: the marshrutka. the song was joe dassin's 'les champs-élysées.'

the marshrutka full of people and i were simply getting from one place to another. there were a couple translators with me. on the radio, this song began to play. immediately, i loved it. i just didn't realize how much i could and would.

as it played, the volume was increased, the passengers became happier, the sun shown a little brighter and even the typical olfactory funk alleviated (it smelled of glory). one by one people were sucked into the moment.

they began to sing and sway to the music. they did air symbols and trumpets. they sang the chorus with zeal and gusto.

i sat back and watched with joy and happiness. this is music at its heart. it changes you, almost metaphysically. the best songs can change your whole being, your emotional standing. that is what the best art in general does, whether it be film, painting, written word or the like.

this moment and this feeling comes back to me now mainly because it was used by wes anderson for the credits in 'the darjeeling limited.' i watched this film only this week though it's a year or so old.

for reasons fairly well known to me, the use of this song bugged me uncontrollably. 'les champs-élysées' was a song set in my own context. the lyrics are in french, thus i understand next to nothing. this allowed me to let the actual music form the context in which i hear it. to me that song will always encompass the mood of that day.

hearing it allows me to go back to that moment. it is what victor turner would call the 'illud tempor' -or something to that extent- in a book called 'the ritual process' -or something to that extent. he basically argues that our rituals are an attempt to go back to 'that time' when things were good or better than the present. our traditions take us back to a past to which we wish we could return.

songs become a part of our own, personal ritual. we have those songs that impact us. they are almost exclusively tied to a memory, an emotion, a relationship, etc. we listen to them and they take us back. when somebody associates it with something else, like anderson did to me with 'les champs-élysées,' he threatens that memory if only on a minor level.

but this nostalgia is a useful tool. you can take those things that have a sort of ingrained cultural association and exploit or use them for positive ends. the jaws music can be used to instill fear, or the feeling of the hunt. chariots of fire equals running on the beach and the feelings of achievement or the race. there are hundreds of examples. when these associations are used skillfully, artists have the ability to literally change people, change society.

this is the kind of art i'd like to produce, to be a part of, to take in. this is why i love music, film and books. they tie me to my past. they remind me of 'that time' when things were perfect or even awful. they grab a hold of the emotions and change i was going through at a specific time and encompass them. they connect us to each other in ways nothing else will.

this has the signature of God all over it. only he could compose our hearts in such a way. beauty and creativity are in His nature. being made in His image, it is in ours too. if only we could tap more into it.

off the road again

2008-04-14T14:53:00.002-05:00

i am home. this makes me happy.

for whatever reason, it is 40-some-odd degrees in mid-april. it is as if God did not want me to miss out on the last bit of winter. perhaps He did not want me to be able to show off my flip-flop tan line.

the tan lines are like pale little arrows pointing the way forward. keep pressing on they say. past experiences have taught me to always listen to my feet.

the past couple months or so of travelling were ________? they were something. they were a lot of things. it is hard experience to sum up.

more than anything, i think it continued to shape my vision. God has been teaching me in odd ways for the last several years. He has taken me, sent me to different places and cultures to further understand my own.

i'm a blessed person. in john 1.16 it says that we've recieved blessing after blessing from the fullness of God's grace. i cannot think of a better verse for my life. the experiences i've had, the people i've met the things i've witnessed- i find myself unable to be anything but grateful.

with that in mind, there is one question that continually takes me off guard. 'would you do it again?' i am never ready for this question. i have trouble thinking like that. i'll usually bumble around for a bit and not really give an answer. i just don't get it.

i try to do what i feel God is trying to get me to do. it isn't easy and it is hard to tell sometimes. but if i've done everything i can to follow God's direction in truth and earnestness, anything that comes before me is worth it. would i do it again? if i felt like God wanted me to, absolutely. if i felt like God didn't want me to, no.

if this sounds like i don't have any direction or dreams or whatever, i want to be clear. i've never found more joy in anything than doing whatever it is my Creator has for me. it is in the following of Him that i've found the desires of my heart. it is in being faithful to Him, that i've found direction and hope. i don't want to lose that. i want to follow that to wherever it takes me. i just have to keep listening, keep pressing on, running the race, fighting the fight and whatever other metaphor suits ya.

smoking = tuxedo

2008-04-04T02:14:00.006-05:00

so, i am in fiji now.

today i had a cup of coffee with a guy named cookie. i don't know if that is how you spell his name, but that is how i will spell it because it sounds delicious (sorry this isn't an audio file, for those of you who like my pronunciation of a certain word).

easily the best part of this trip is sitting down and exchanging stories, getting wisdom from and listening to the perspective of somebody you have no business to have ever met. this guy is from fiji, i had a good talk with a guy from india who wants to plant the first church in a city of 100,000, a roommate from korea and there is a girl here from lititz pennsylvania (basically the town next to the one i lived in as a child [yes, i'm a yankee]). it freaks me out a little that i get to do this.

i've been blessed by so many people on this trip. i admire so many people i've met. the scenery is gorgeous, but i'd take the people over it any day. somebeoody send a variation of that to hallmark, maybe with a waterfall or beach or something on the front and 'you' instead of 'people'.

also, it has been nice to not be known as the guy whose grandfather just died. thank you guys for your support by the way. but, last week that is what i was. i've decided not to let anybody here know. i am really at peace with Grandpa's passing.

now, here is an abrupt change of topic.

norwegians,

i must discuss norwegian women. absolutely gorgeous. thank God for them. there was a team in new zealand from norway. i fell in love with each one of them, especially the ones that sneezed. hear me now: there is nothing, nothing more attractive then a sneezing norwegian woman.

also, i watched 7th heaven with them a few times with norwegian subtitles. "smoking" is norwegian for tuxedo. that is all i picked up and i pass it on to you. use it wisely.

thus, i've decided to move to norway. they've got good looking women and the northern lights. what more does a boy need? not much, maybe some mexican food would be good too though, like a chimichaunga every now and again.

for grandpa

2008-03-31T18:31:00.004-05:00

my grandpa's funeral will be on tuesday. i will still be in new zealand. after he passed, my mom asked me to write something out about him. my brother is going to read it at the service and i have decided to post it here. it is my tribute to somebody i truly admire and love.

-----After my brother graduated from college, Grandma and Grandpa travelled down to Tennessee for a visit. In honor of the occasion, we had a party. Our house became filled with both people, packed in like sardines, and noise, which could have drowned out a passing train.

Seeking refuge, a friend of mine, our former youth minister and Grandpa joined me outside on the back porch. There we would eat our food in peace and quiet, enjoying the cool night’s breeze. Jay, the youth minister, was always one to collect wisdom. Seeing the time with Grandpa as an opportunity to add to that collection, Jay decided to ask him a question.

“Mr. Bedi,” he started, “What have you found to get you through the hard times of life, the times when nothing seems to go right and life doesn’t make any sense?” It seemed like a good question, so we all turned our heads to Grandpa, the wise sage among us.

Grandpa finished his bite, wiped his mouth and smacked his gums (as he tended to do). He reflected over the question a bit, searching his memories and answered.

“Well, I don’t believe I’ve had any of those times.”

With that response, Grandpa took a sip of his coffee and offered a comment on how good it tasted. My friend and I direct our gaze back on Jay, now sitting there with a bit of a perplexed look. He had expected a profound treatise on suffering or an enriching moral story, not this simple answer. It was Jay’s turn to talk and like most ministers he was never short of words. But here he could muster only one word:

“Wow.”

This little conversation, one of countless in a full life, illustrates what I admired and loved most about Grandpa. Somewhere along the line, he learned to be content. If life offered hardship, you sang a song and went to work. He made his difficulties simple. How could you not admire that?

Grandpa’s inner peace, joy and happiness could not be shaken. Well, maybe it could a little by Grandma. A simple phone call up to them would become a comedic argument on the other end of the line with the two debating small details of the call. Sometimes they would leave messages on our answering machine like this. Those were not deleted with much haste. But after 63 years of marriage, there was no doubt they loved each other. 63 years of marriage is something to be in awe of, probably even more so if you’re married. Sometimes 63 days is more than enough.

Since he walked closely with the Lord, I have no doubt that Grandpa is now in His arms. This being so, my mourning is mixed with joy. There is a bit of confusion in my heart, perhaps this explains the heaviness I’ve felt since I heard he did not have much time left.

He is now where every follower of Christ wants to be. I can only feel happiness about that. He has gained more now than any man could in infinite lifetimes. My grief comes from my, rather, our loss.

I’ll not get to have any more conversations with Grandpa. I’ll not get to hear that voice he reserved for babies. I won’t get to do any more puzzles with him. I’ll not get to see that grin, that big healthy smile that came as he listened to stories and when he was around his family or when he was trying to get Grandma a little flustered and riled up. And I’ll not get to see him in those two perpetual outfits: that brown or that blue sweater.

I have the memories, but to know that no more will be made is a loss. Perhaps that is not quite true. The new memories will come as I share my knowledge of him with those close to me: my future kids and family, my friends. They’ll come as I talk to my brother and sister-in-law’s coming baby in the closest voice to Grandpa’s I can muster. They’ll come as I try to live my life with the same goodness he did.

My time with Grandpa was not long. We moved away when I was 9 and the distance made it hard to stay connected. But it made the time I had with him all the more sacred. I went into that time with purpose: to know him, to learn from him, to enjoy him. I am grateful for those times, especially those I got to have in the last few years while I was grown up, or at least close to it.

There was a goodness that dwelled in Grandpa, richly and deeply. As his grandson, baby grandson at that, I feel nothing but sincere pride and honor that his blood is running through my veins. He is my heritage, my ancestry and because of that, I am blessed. I hope that I can honor and inherit that goodness in my life and that when I pass through this world I’ll have a grandson that will look upon me with even a fraction of the adoration as I do him.

Grandpa, thank you for your life. I love you and I’ll see you again.-----

mcsweeney's

2008-03-30T14:39:00.003-05:00

COACH
BARRY MURPHY'S
INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES
(LIFETIME RECORD:
14-91-1).

this above link is from mcsweeney's. feel free to have a look around. just be careful, it could eat up your day and inspire a good deal of laughter.

change of pace

2008-03-29T04:43:00.003-05:00

tonight, in the simple attempt to read, i was attacked by new zealand's biggest fly.

the buzzing literally shook my bed. this buzzing was a blessing for it warned of the incoming danger and imminent attack of the mutant creature. it was not afraid to die.

time and time again it would dive bomb me, leaving me itchy and paranoid. i became convinced that it had developed in similar fashion as the teenage mutant ninja turtles. it had all the tell tale signs of toxic mutation. i half expected it to eat pizza, practice martial arts and speak slang-filled english.

assuming that if it did not speak english, at the very least it could understand it. "come on, land where i can kill you." i found myself saying this out loud to the creature. surely it would understand. it was all i could provide for a strategy, desperate pleas for it to give up (i'm no stonewall jackson).

rising from my bed, book in hand, i decided i would no longer play the victim. i was going to fight back, to mount an offensive. i began to hum a toby keith song.......... not really.

this bug was crafty. suffice it to say that you do not grow to such a state without knowing how to handle the would-be swatter. i'll not lie. many a time during our fight, i did not think i would make it or that i would ever get him. i thought it would follow me all my days, buzzing, making me itchy, terrifying children.

alas, one fateful swing of my book sent my foe sailing through the air, lifeless, behind a radiator near my bed. silence. he had fallen, a worthy foe, a freak of nature laid to rest.

but like many evil villains before him........ he came back.

it started with a buzz. there is just no way, i thought. i ignored it and went to back to reading. yet the buzzing continued.

i began my hunt and found the fly, still alive but having trouble navigating through the tight area. muttering my battle cry -"come on, land where i can kill you"- i finally delivered a fatal blow. i added several more just to be sure, the final shot in the head if you will.

it was only then that i saw the poignancy of the book i was reading. it was a.w. tozer's "the divine conquest." i can think of a title no more fitting for this epic battle against a fly the size of a decent sized grape.

"whatever made you do it?"

2008-03-27T18:03:00.006-05:00

so i've fell into the abyss that is facebook (hooray for back to back abyss usage). seriously though, facebook is an abyss in the truest sense of the word. it could go on forever, we know not how deep it goes or what is looking back at us when we gaze into it.

one of my new friends (i find it a bit disconcerting that people i've known for years are only now friends) asked me in the subject of a message "whatever made you do it?"

well, in short, my grandfather was dying.

i bet that is a bit of a unique reason to join.

for the last five years, at least, people have been doing everything they can to convince me to join. i resisted. calling it an abyss, a vacuum, a hoarder of time and consumer of life, i would not join.

for the last couple of days, i've been waiting, calling home to find out if William Bedi, Sr., my grandpa had passed away. he had a very bad stroke, was given a few hours to live and stretched it into a day or two.

to be in a foreign land, sleeping in a room alone with 30 empty beds adds to a bit of helplessness. perhaps in a period of isolation i longed for a bit of a connection with those back home. i don't know. that is probably the shrink's explanation and it has merit.

whatever the reason, i could not sleep. i could not rest. i could not get the pending answer to the question i kept asking.

i called late last night here in new zealand, early in the morning in the states of the day i had just lived. he had not passed. so i reclined back into my bed, assuming that when i woke i'd get the answer.

twenty minutes after we hung up, i would learn this morning, grandpa took a final, peaceful breath.

somewhere in the inbetween, the threshold between those two calls, i joined facebook for unknown reasons except that i needed to do something. i was tired of staring at the bottom of the bed above me. today, after i finish this, i will type a eulogy of sorts.

my heart is a bit confused. it feels great joy, because grandpa walked closely with the Lord and is now in His arms, where he has wanted to be as all followers do. it feels great loss, because he is gone.

the heaviness, the pressure i feel deep down is from that wrestling. the joy and the hurt are coming to terms with each other. once the joy wins over, which it will "in the fullness of time," i'll praise God in joy.

for now, until time and God do their works, my praise will be met with a little hurt for the loss of a life well lived. perhaps this is more complete worship. it is worship which embraces life in totality.

there is your answer. this is the "whatever" that made me join facebook, the abyss, the vacuum, the hoarder of time, the consumer of life and monopolizer of my email.

return from technological darkness

2008-03-26T01:06:00.002-05:00

for the last couple of weeks i have been in countries with pretty beaches and striking mountains. the south pacific is a little bit, just a smidgen, kind of, really beautiful. i’m not even a fan of beaches and the ocean freaks me out a little (too much unknown- see james cameron’s the abyss). even with the subdued fanhood of these essential island elements, i cannot deny that these islands have been some of the most impressive places i’ve ever seen.

before you interject, yes, the vistas and views here are much more breath-taking than the ghettos of moldova. you can argue with me all you want to on that point.

i spent a week in the solomon islands with denzel washington. truthfully, it was really slow goings there. denzel, eddie that is, was an awesome man. he was the leader of ywam in the solomons. but eddie had a lot on his plate or, more appropriately, his plates. that being said, we did a lot of waiting. i read three books, all fantastic. but any week i am able to read three books is a week i probably didn’t get much done. i loved spending time with eddie and his family but it was a really hard week for writing.

i’ve learned that i am not a journalist.

i don’t like writing other people’s stories. i love hearing them. but in the space between my ears and my fingers there is a disconnect. the things i’ve tried to write feel contrived to me. they might be okay and i might be hyper-critical of my own writing. but i think for the most part the stuff i’ve written has sort of, well, sucked. i’ve not been happy with it.

the things i’ve written for myself have been much more rewarding. but those things will hardly see the light of day. i’ll keep them for later. God has been speaking to me, showing me things and explaining questions that have been plaguing me for years. i am grateful for that. missing home, friends and family for a small while is something that i’m willing to endure for answers.

answers, i love.

sorry, yoda just wrote that last sentence using the force. nonetheless, it is fantastic to understand. sometimes it is confirmation, or fresh perspective or simple words that do it. whatever it is that brings that insight, that allows you to grasp a bit of truth is so valuable. truth can be revealed in so much.

this past week or so was spent in the cook islands. this, my good people, is the most beautiful place i’ve seen on this trip yet. i’ll do us the favor of not trying to explain it. it’s just real perty.

i spent the week filming a missions conference. for the entire week i was known as the film guy. what the people did not know was that i had little to no idea what i was doing. the hardest challenge was not falling asleep.

we stayed in a hostel. this means that we were in a large hall with mattresses lined on the floor. we were crammed in, right on top of each other. sleep was attainable only because of exhaustion. the norwegian man next to me was an odd snorer, just abnormal and non-rhythmic but gave one heck of a cuddle- evidently it is common for norwegian men to cuddle at night in pacific islands (this is what halvard told me).

after the conference we moved to the ywam base which is still under construction. my new bed is a mattress of two inches thickness. to continue the trend of my ancestors and family everywhere, i will now utter a traditional bedi chant: oh, my aching back.

but it has been a good stay. a stay full of L&P and amazing people (click on l&p if confused). i don’t have the time to tell of it. i’ve already written too much. so i’ll bid you goodbye. i’ll leave for new zealand tonight at 1am. in fact i’ll publish this there. i’ll be keeping my eye out for hobbits and various sorcerers. Godspeed.

no more kangaroos, after this

2008-03-07T14:40:00.004-06:00

my glorious and illustrious run in australia comes to a close today. we'll be heading to the airport and from there, the soloman islands- which denzel washington has promised to be hotter then vanuatu. i will get a picture of denzel for all you ladies and andy, excuse me, andrew bedi (perhaps denzel washingtons biggest supporter due to denzel's extremely diverse acting roles).

the trip is very tiring. we are always on the go, always on the move. the second you get comfortable at a place, when you have become comfortable with the people you've just met is the same second you are getting on a plane and probably not seeing them again.

i may or may not have much time in the next couple of weeks for updates. we're going to the sticks, the island version. i'll do what i can to update things.

i also need to keep a low profile for a while. the australian government is none too pleased about my underground kangaroo fighting empire i've spent the last weeks growing. typical. why has everybody got to hold you down?

i have had some really good conversations and have seen some really amazing things. i simply don't have the time to get it down. but if you are concerned that this blog will become only about kangaroos and the underground fighting circuit i am caught up in, don't worry. my love for kangaroos will not die, but will be dormant as i leave this majestic land.

warning: contins graphic images

2008-03-05T19:26:00.007-06:00

sometimes things seem to just fall into place. God just smiles upon you and gives you something you will always remember. yesterday was one of those times.

i had just finished doing some web-based research on the kangaroo (i.e. looking up video's of them fighting things on youtube). discussing it with some of the locals, i was sad to say that i had never even seen one.

they kept telling me how many kangaroos they had seen, about how they are everywhere. " where are they all hiding then? if there all over australia, why have i not seen one yet?" i was becoming a tad indignant. i've been in australia for two weeks and i hadn't seen a single kangaroo.

then we hit one with our car.

i saw it hopping on the side of the road. it was adorable and awkward all at the same time. then it hopped its little self right under our speeding car.

-what was that?
-i think it was a kangaroo.
-is it dead?
-i think so.
-that's the first kangaroo i've ever seen.
-should we turn around and have a look?
-absolutely!

we pull a quick u-turn. a few minutes later, our driver was pulling the dead kangaroo across the street. we mourned the loss of the creature. then we began taking pictures.

okay, maybe we didn't respect the sanctity of kangaroo life. but i couldn't resist getting a picture like this:

for the record, the smiling gentleman (named pisa) holding the kangaroo was the one that killed it. we then moved it off the road to avoid the certain possibility of future cars from running over it. evidently this happens quite a bit because kangaroos are attracted to the lights of cars. i'll add the following to my research and findings about the kangaroo:

in a fight between small kangaroo and car, kangaroo loses.

it is obviously kind of sad that the car ended up killing the kangaroo. but if you're going to see a kangaroo for the first and possibly only time, might as well make it memorable.

courtesy of australia vol.1

2008-03-04T23:13:00.001-06:00

courtesy of australia vol.2

2008-03-04T23:12:00.004-06:00

courtesy of australia vol.3

2008-03-04T23:11:00.000-06:00

never in my life, did i think that i would love fighting kangaroos as much as i do. it brings me such joy to see these creatures fight, throwing punches, wrestling, standing on their tales and kicking each other. it is odd, because i normally hate fighting.

i believe that if the world would fight its wars with kangaroos, we would live in harmony due to the unavoidable laughter and happiness kangaroo feuds bring.

i also find it odd that these golfers continue with their game, almost oblivious to the event taking place. it leads me to believe that australians have grown weary of seeing kangaroo fights. it must happen all the time if men can simply ignore it.

you're having a party...... kangaroo fight.
you're getting married..... kangaroo fight.
taking mail to the post office..... kangaroo fight.
birthing a child..... kangaroo fight.

and so on and so forth. in fact, just behind me a kangaroo fight has broken out.

finishing a blog post...... kangaroo fight.

i've got to go. i'm laying down a significant amount of coin on a kangaroo the locals simply call "the inflicter."

the what

2008-03-02T20:25:00.008-06:00

recently, i finished reading a book by dave eggers: 'what is the what,' about the life of one of the 'lost boys'-achak deng- from sudan and its war, born a year after me in 1983 and ending a horrific 22 years later in 2005 killing millions and displacing even more . i highly recommend it if your looking for a good long read with substance and heart.

yesterday in an australian k-mart, i was sitting with a man from nigeria having a chat. a dark, thin security guard possibly in his early 20's walked up to us. his gaunt frame and appearance was almost exactly what i had imagined achak deng's to be. he looked much like the image on the book's cover. he was one of the lost boys, i was sure.

after a while, my friend and i were able to get him to confirm my suspicions. 'jon' was from sudan and was settled here outside of brisbane. we had a brief conversation, all of us aware of the depth it could have contained, and he went back to his duties.

the whole time i felt a guilty connection with him. having read the story of achak deng, i felt i knew a part of what jon must have gone through. there was so much he had to tell and neither of us had the time to converse.

it was as though, through jon, God was reminding me of the book's reality and of the fact that there are countless numbers of people forced through outrageous struggle by things completely beyond their control. people like jon and achak deng have experienced things that people like me have no way of understanding.

books, like egger's, and stories help, much like pictures. but pictures and words rarely represent their subjects in fullness. this became totally evident when i saw the sydney opera house last week.

never in my life did i expect to be impacted so much in that place, by that place. i could have stayed in the harbor for days being comforted by the scenery and the sounds. (fitting that the only piece of music i heard while by the opera house was 'let's get it on' covered by a band at a local bar) pictures and words don't prepare you for that type of encounter, they can't.

in the effort to listen and tell somebody's story or an attempt to capture a moment in a picture we can share a small portion of reality. it is God only that can truly comprehend and understand it in every way. God connects our souls to these things. He speaks the truth of the matter into our depths, into our gut. moments of understanding and clarity in matters is great grace.

i feel like it is God in us that can only truly connect us to each other and to the moments we are in. we are in His world, His creation. Only His presence allows us to see the truth, because God is the Truth.

there are some things you have to encounter. tozer says "it is not mere words that nourish the soul, but God himself, and unless and until the hearers find God in personal experience they are not the better for having heard the truth." we must engage our lives, our experiences, our thoughts and actions with the Heavenly Father for them to grow in truth.

this is, to a degree and in part, my answer to the question that is begged but not answered in the title of egger's book, taken from a story told within it. it is that great unknown, that thing only God can answer because only He knows what the what is.

"set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on the earth. for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God." col 3.2-3

the what is about thinking above, about seeing the hidden life, found only with Christ in God.

a little backwords

2008-02-26T16:50:00.002-06:00

i'm here in australia, near sydney, and to be honest i'm having a bit of a rough go of things. my brand new computer (purchased the day after thanksgiving) decided to kill its hard drive. i'm not too surprised though. the hard drive has never gotten along with the rest of the computer. i guess it was a little arrogant, thinking it could do all the computing itself. well, push came to shove and there was a bit of a civil war which left the hard drive completely dead.

with its untimely death, the hard drive took with it every bit of data i had. it is all, as the rotund gentlemen at the computer repair shop would tell me, unretrievable.

unretrievable.

this is a horrible word, outside of a few crazy exceptions (use your imagination). i've lost many pictures, some music and movie files i had on there. but worst of all, i lost all the stuff i have been writing the last couple weeks. they were all still in progress, but nearly finished and not backed up on anything. it is all disapressing (def. is somewhere in the archives).

thus, i have been trying to retrieve the articles and musings from my head. for the most part, they are unretrievable. i am starting over on a lot of them and trying to write some new stuff too. it is a bit of a pain.

i'm not a very fast writer when it comes to other people. when i get to be introspective and write about what i'm going through, it comes easily (typically). i feel added pressure when writing about other people, because i don't want to misrepresent them or, worse, not show their passion or their heart in it. being a journalist might not be a good fit for me. it makes me feel a bit backwords.

if you didn't know, the street traffic is reversed from america. cars come at me from the opposite side i'm used to. when i'm looking left, i should be looking right. when i'm looking right, i should be looking left. i fear that eventually, i'll be looking at the ceiling of a hospital.

it is unnatural for me. i continually have my head on a swivel in the attempts of not dying. this type of writing is a tiny bit like that. i feel like i'm looking the wrong way. and in the process of being confused, my words don't come out. eventually they will, i hope. but for now, i'm learning to look at things differently, to cross the street safely.

classic rambling

2008-02-21T00:10:00.002-06:00

i just read the last two posts and now see that a trend has begun. i started at 15, then 14. if i continue this pattern i have, i'll only have 13 posts left. the last of these will provide me with only a single minute. what could i say in a minute? probably more than i think.

i've found myself really listening on this trip. in the process of this, i've also started listening to my own words. God has allowed me to step outside myself a bit. He is trying to teach me to be more of a minimalist with my tongue. the things i would talk in circles about for days, God wants me to edit, to be more concise and quit adding to the noise. but, i'll probably still ramble a bit on this thing.

last week was spent in vanuatu. the people at the base we stayed at were really amazing, really driven and ambitious. it is humbling to be around people with the type of passion nearly everyone we ran into had. not only humbling, it is really quite challenging as well.

i've spent the last few days going though the notes i took from the days of conversations i had. trying to make sense of my notes is a bit like trying to finish a crossword puzzle. i am still wrestling with myself as a writer, trying to find my voice. it has proven very difficult for me to tell other people's stories. my nature is so introspective that i find it difficult not to write myself into the story. i'm also not sure if that is or isn't a bad thing.

i definitely feel a bit of guilt for that though, for making everything personal. these stories aren't about me, i'm not confused about that. but i cannot help but look at things with eyes longing for growth. when i hear something, i let it challenge me. i don't know how else to engage the people with which i am having a conversation. in the talks, i'm not constantly trying to shift the focus onto me. it isn't like that. i just have to personally interact with their words, it is how i listen.

it has been a blessing to see that God is using me in these places. that has been a prayer and fear of mine, just to sort of be here not really adding to anything. but God has blessed me with the tangible knowledge that there is purpose in my being here and that i won't have to wait to know what that is. that hasn't been the theme in my last 5+ years and i am really grateful for it. you can see some pictures of a place in vanuatu called black sands paama in the flickr thing to the right (there actually pretty good pictures for ones i've taken -they're usually pretty awful).

i am in wollongong, australia now. wollongong, australia? seriously? i am still a bit humbled that God is taking me to these places. i'm quite a bit humbled by the things i am witnessing. i'll talk about australia later (i'm going to be here a little over two weeks) but for now i've probably said enough (maybe even nothing at all). i just thank God australia is not a sauna.

14 minutes or so

2008-02-13T19:14:00.003-06:00

time is not a luxury i can afford right now. the time i have at this internet cafe in vanuatu is close to running out, but i thought that i would get a quick post in before i left.

firstly, i cannot stop sweating. i feel like i could irrigate crops with the neverending streams of perspiration. it is hot and humid, i feel like i'm giving the sun a piggy back ride. hopefully, i'll adjust and me and the sun can make peace.

the other day, somebody asked me if my feet were still swollen from the plane ride. study of my feet showed that they were the same size they have been for years now. i just have fat feet. but i decided to use this comment to my advantage. i said yes. in fact i think my whole body is a bit swollen from the plane ride, especially my belly.

thirdly, i've been having a lot of good conversations with the people serving here. the task i have here is a bit overwelming to me, to be honest. i've never considered myself a writer and trying to catch a bit of the passion they have and put it into words seems like a task i'm not up to. but i trust God wanted me, specifically me, here to do this for a reason. at some point, it would be nice to know what, exactly, that is. but this is nothing new for me. i always wonder about that, always ask God what i'm doing here, the world specifically.

i was talking with an austrailian woman here the other day. i'll call her mommy from here on, that is what every body else does. she was going from story to story about the movement of God in her life and ministry. she told a brief story about elijah, when he was lighting the fire to prove our God as the real God. mommy told me that she felt like the fire, that God wanted her to come to these islands and help spread it. and then she looked at me and pointed right through my chest into my heart.

that fire is churning in you, and one of these days it is going to catch.

she told me this, and in doing so summed up how i've felt for the last few years. i have this groaning inside of me and it just won't come out. i don't know how to let it out. it is a fire, churning deep down in my gut. if i don't get it out, it will break me down and make me useless.

i don't really know what i'm doing here. i know i'm supposed to be doing some writing, but there is something more than that. there is something beyond the sweat, the heat and the bug bites. there is a movement here, in these islands and in my soul. i'm supposed to witness one and let it start the other.

with that, i bid you Godspeed. posts will come, maybe not regularly, but whenever i get a chance. thanks for reading and recycling.

adventure now

2008-02-10T14:35:00.000-06:00

in 15 minutes or so, i will head to the airport here in seattle (by the way, i've been in seattle for the last few days) and hop on a series of planes that will take me to the other side of the world. planes are sort of a modern-torture device to me. i have a generous circumference and i am just tall enough for comfort to completely escape me. sky mall, however, i do enjoy. i like seeing the rediculous things they sell on airplanes.

when the plane lands and the torture subsides, i'll be doing some writing with ywam about some of the things they've got going on in the south pacific, and presumably i'll be sweating. hopefully God will use my stammering tongue and chubby fingers to say/write something that will help convey just a part of what He is doing in this world to bring his children home.

this journey will last for about three months, take me to about 8 different countries and dump me into an unknown number of situations for which i fell totally unprepared. but that is kind of the way i like it. i like being a little unprepared. i like having to rely and depend on something bigger than me to put things in order. there is probably a great deal of God's grace that has been missed because we have been too prepared. of course, that works both ways. no preperation can get in the way of God's moving in our lives.

with this adventure coming up, this blog will again take on the purpose for which it was started: letting people like my mom know a) that i am still alive b) what/where in the world i am c) the stories i have experienced. i feel like i've kind of been drifting a bit on this blog, heck in this world, so perhaps this will help it be more consistent. i'll do my best to be forthcoming and honest, because i would hate to waste your time with things that don't have any heart. inevitably there will be the blogs inspired by exhaustion/insanity that will have the same impact as one i wrote about a specific school of cereal eating. but, i'll just hope to be honest enough to maybe make you think a bit.

Godspeed.

-----------------------------------
some of you know how much i enjoy the tv show lost. i'm not sure if i'll be able to keep up with the new season. but there is a possibility that one of my planes will crash and i will join the castaways in their mystical and mysterious adventures. so keep your fingers crossed.

my dinner with andre

2008-01-08T21:55:00.000-06:00

in the epic film Waiting For Guffman, Christopher Guest showed off his My Dinner With Andre action figures along side his Remains of the Day lunch box. the former instilled wild curiosity in the heart of the young, impressionable mind of one timothy william bedi.

that curiosity grew into a very mild desire to see My Dinner With Andre, the film of two men (one down-to-earth and the other with head extravagantly in the clouds) simply having dinner and discussing everything from theatre to the nature of reality. i suppose the seemingly bland premise made me want to watch it, 110 minutes of conversation. you see at 15, i could not imagine that an entire movie could be devoted to something which seemed so trivial and, well, boring. thus it was sophisticated and i should watch it. 10 years later it sounds much more exciting for reasons other than pseudo sophistication.

to date, i've seen roughly 7-odd minutes of it, somewhere right smack dab in the middle. it was interesting. i wanted an andre. i wanted to be able to sit and talk with somebody and be completely riveted. and over the years, i've been blessed with many andre's. tonight, i was able to spend a little time with two of them. one of them has a great deal of worth to say, but seems to think i get tired of hearing it. with the other, i had dinner.

my andre for the evening was a close college friend of mine. we've had countless long conversations, most of which occurred over food. tonight we dined on Las Palmas. i need both of those things: good conversation and good mexican food. if i don't get them regularly, i grow uneasy (i prefer to be easy like sunday morning).

we talked about the church, about worship, about woman, about what we were doing with our lives and the deliciousness of a number 4, with chicken. all of these things i'll keep thinking about over the next couple of days. i'll weigh and measure our thoughts and statements. i'll digest them much like my pork chimichaunga. that's what i love about having andre's, about good conversations, they stay with you for a while and become a part of who you are.

i suppose that is what is different about myself now from the 15 year old version. i don't care if people find me sophisticated or intelligent or even completely stupid and asinine. i want to learn, to understand as much as i can simply to learn and to understand things rather than being thought __________. thank God for Andre's.

=========================

quote of the evening, made by my friend during the aforementioned 'women' section of our dialogue:

"i find myself increasingly attracted to the nubian goddess that works in underwriting. mona...... she looks like donna summer, 1974 donna summer."

donna summer, queen of disco/possible co-worker of a guy i know

Merry Christmas '07

2007-12-23T23:20:00.000-06:00

"blitzen gets impatient" by t.w.bedi

"paint" has become one of my hobbies. i started this one off with the intentions of making another santa, only this time with a sleigh (which for some reason i modeled after a chili pepper). but by the time i finished the reindeer, i had grown weary of making this. also, the reindeer proved to be much harder to create then anticipated and i don't think i could have made a santa with the same level of "craftsmenship." i also added a lightning bolt to the sleigh for aesthetic reasons.

God rest ye merry gentlemen!

ch-ch-ch-changes

2007-12-16T12:23:00.000-06:00

yes, i too have become tired of our cup stacking friend. this is not to say that i don't admire his talent. he is going to make some woman very lucky some day. it just needed to be changed.

i've also decided to change the appearance of this endeavor. the heavily cropped picture behind the title of the blog was used in my very first post ever. it is "four trees" by an artist named egon schiele, seen below in amazing color.

four trees

egon must have painted this somewhere in between batteling a rediculously oversized marshmellow man and saving the city of new york from an overabundance of slime, stemming from their own hate, animosity and general stinkin thinkin. neither ray nor venkman ever really approved of his art.

but from what i can tell, the egon that painted the four trees was not of the most admirable character (particularly in areas of his relationships with minors). truthfully, i've never really seen much of his work outside of this particular painting and a quick image googling. there is something about this painting that gets me.

it's that second tree that does it. unlike his tree brethren, he's lost his leaves and it makes me wonder. has he given up or is he just ready for change? either way, he's different. the other three are still clothed in their fall gown but he is sitting there with his branches exposed to the world.

at times i 've felt like that second tree. i've wanted change. heck, i want it now. i'm ready for something new to come, for a change in seasons. there too are times i feel like i've given up. i grew weary of holding on to my leaves and just let them fall to the ground in hopes that something would grow back in their place. with each set of feelings there is a sense of solitude, a feeling i'd have a hard time describing better than that tree probably could.

for me there is change coming and not just the blog. seminary is on the horizon, which means pulling up roots for a while. i will also spend a few months of the next year doing some writing with ywam all over the south pacific. (ywam=youth with a mission)http://www.ywam.org/

it's coming and i'm ready for it.

so i'll leave you with a few more of egon's tree paintings :

autumn sun

autumn trees

autumn puff

Make it in Moldova

2007-12-16T03:22:00.001-06:00

james has single-handedly changed the way i pronounce moldova. i wasn't putting enough force behind the 'dova.' i wonder if these men will make it..........
in molDOVA!

where on earth?

speed stacking

2007-08-18T23:00:00.001-05:00

yesterday i watched this sport on espn. when asked about this 10 year old german competitors performance the year prior, the commentator stated: "well, all i can say about his performance last year was that he cried a lot."

now this sensitive young man owns a wssa world record in the individual cycle proving yet again, that tears will heal you and also that germans are efficient.

tales of nashvillian encounters: volume 2-a man at wendy's

2007-08-08T17:39:00.000-05:00

during a slower week of reconstructing, a majority of the summer staffers met at a wendy's on gallatin road to partake in the ritual we have come to call lunch. it was a lovely lunch on a lovely day which will be forever remembered thanks to a complete stranger and his ordering technique.

i had just taken one last gulp of my beverage and knew that i would like more mountain blast powerade to take with me. like in many other wendy's restaurants, the beverage dispenser was located in between two registers.(1) as i approached the counter, i noticed two men studying the menu.

these gentlemen were rather tall. i did not get out a tape measure but i think it would be safe to say that one of them was probably close, if not above, seven feet tall though he couldn't have weighed more than 113 pounds. when telling this story, jan (a fellow reconstructer), will typically interject that he was wearing a tall-t. his friend, though not freakishly tall, was a solid 6'5" to 6'7" and probably very close to the century mark as well in terms of weight. he also dawned a tall-t. these were skinny lads. from this point on, we will only be concerned with the shorter of the two.

this man had set up shop leaning on the drink machine. he studied the menu with the concentration of a monk deep within some form of transcendental meditation. for the entire time i was waiting for my drink, he studied. finally, as the wendy's employee handed me my drink the man made his order.

"let me get..... two chicken sandwiches, BUCK-BUYCK!" (the 'buck-buyck' was made in a very high-pitched, chicken-like voice)

the man actually made the noise of the animal he was about to eat. this brought me great joy. to this day, when i'm feeling blue i will think of this man and his masterful ordering acumen and all sadness dissipates. if only all my experiences at wendy's were this memorable, i would be a complete man.

--------------------------------------------
(1) does anybody else feel like wendy's is a little stingy with their beverages? it seems to me like they have always been that way. i feel like they were way behind on the free refills wagon too. i can remember having to ask my parents for change so i could go get more beverage. even now they have yet to release control of their fountain drinks, unlike so many of their competitors. frankly, they are lucky they have their 99 cent menu or my dad, and many like him, would not eat there. and for pete's sake wendy's, cut back on the ice.

tales of nashvillian encounters: volume 1-darel

2007-07-30T13:12:00.000-05:00

it was like any other day this summer. how was i supposed to know that i would have a conversation with a man that would change my life, not to mention the entire medical community, forever?

my services were needed for the repair of a rotting deck. i had just finished replacing some deck boards and rebuilding a few sets of stairs. finding myself tired, yet feeling rewarded, i took a cup of water and left the site only to move on to my next job...... or so i'd thought.

loading my car, i viewed a man walking toward me. he inched closer to me and i began to make out the writing on his green t-shirt. it stated, "I CARRY NO CA$H." i found it interesting that the maker of the t-shirt used a dollar sign for the s in cash.

after a minute of $tudying the man, i had no doubt$ in my mind that he, indeed, carried no ca$h.

now only a few feet from me, i asked the gentleman how is day was going. drawing out every syllable, the man declared the following:

"maaaaan, people been riding my assssss alllllll daaaaay lonnnggg."

the sentence took such a long time to exit his mouth that i had to rotate my body 180 degrees just to hear him finish. he was about five feet in front of me when i asked him about his day and a good ten feet away from me when he finished his reply.

let me go ahead and say, that i will never avoid a conversation that starts off this way. in fact, i will often times seek them out. on this occasion i feel it safe to say that we both wanted it.

i told the man to "hold up" and "get back here." darel, as i would come to know him, happily obliged. i told him i needed to know the story behind his answer and he began to tell me about his morning.

it was fool of disappointments. he was trying to make a buck or two and people had been ripping him off alllll daaaaay lonnnggg. he asked me if i would give him a job. i told him i couldn't do that. we talked a while longer. i gave him my cup of water. we talked a while and became quite close. at that point i asked if i could pray for him. he said he would like that very much. so.... he hugged me.

embracing darel back, i began to pray for him. as i closed, darel gave a very heartfelt "amen." we closed our hug and darel stepped back to examine me. he looked me up and down and i could tell something was going on in that mind of his. after about 15 seconds of silent observation, darel chimed "i want to show you something."

this is going to be good, i thought to myself as darel faced his back to me. as he began to lift up the back of his shirt, i became less convinced that this was going to be 'good' and more convinced that this was going to be quite bad.

against my better judgement, i continued to look as darel lifted his shirt to display a gigantic tumor or growth or something. i have searched and searched for an adequate description of this thing and the only comparable thing i can come up with is a butt cheek.

darel had a third butt cheek directly above his left one. it literally froze me for a while. i couldn't find anything to say. darel tucked the superfluous cheek back under the shirt and turned around waiting for me to say something.

the only words i could muster were "wow, darel, that's really impressive" as if it were some type of award given out very seldomly.

he looked almost as confused as i did and said that the doctors wanted to remove it but that he couldn't be in no wheelchair. this also confused me because it wasn't like the tumor was what propelled him down the street. he did have both of his legs. i'm assuming it was a high risk procedure because of its closeness to the spine. i told him i understood nonetheless.

we closed our encounter with darel asking me again for work and me sullenly informing him that we just didn't have a way of providing him with any. he persisted and said that if we did, he was one street over, adding: "if you see a white cadillac-blue rwoof, that's me."

i asked if he lived in the white cadillac with the blue rwoof. he only answered "white cadillac-blue rwoof, that's me. i gotta go."

and with that i bid him Godspeed, and we went on our ways. i'm not quite sure what happened to him after that. but i'll tell you this. every time i see a white cadillac with a blue rwoof, a part of me, heck all of me hopes that it is darel and that people are no longer riding his ass during any part or duration of the day.

pollution

2007-07-25T16:12:00.000-05:00

driving home this afternoon, i witnessed an old, rusted out truck spewing pollution from its tailpipe roughly equal to the annual emissions of a moderately sized industrialized nation. on both sides of the tailgate, al gore bumper stickers were proudly on display. the irony made me smile.

coming soon

2007-07-24T14:14:00.000-05:00

i've decided to write out a few of the more interesting encounters i've had on the mean streets of nashville this summer. this will be a 4 volume set. they will be much like the tales of the marshrutka from august of 06 (feel free to look at the archives). i'm still working on a name for them. one will involve bob seger, another will include two chicken sandwiches, another will have a george forman grill/high school reunion photos and there will be one with a white cadillac with a blue roof. i hope they will bring you as much happiness as they have me.

AHHHH! COUCH!

2007-07-16T17:25:00.000-05:00

while traveling down the interstate sunday afternoon, i had an unfriendly encounter with some furniture. i found myself behind a pickup truck which just happened to be carrying some furniture. this furniture was not tied down to its fullest potential.

in fact, i approached the truck cautiously from behind and thought to myself: "that stuff doesn't look like it was tied down to its fullest potential." at about the time i finished that sentance the couch began to shimmy. i then said "it looks like that couch is about to fly out of the truck, possibly killing me."

not soon after i said that, the couch began to fly out of the truck, possibly killing me. the whole thing was quite prophetic on my part. i would say something and then it would happen.

the couch began to work itself off of the back of the truck and came after me like a ninja-vigilante. as it started its attack my first defense was to yell: "AHHHHH! COUCH!"

the screaming did nothing to deter the rogue couch. it continued its advance upon my ranks, adding to its forces by recruiting a few cushions and what appeared to be some type of chair or an ottoman.

it was me and the furniture now, soaring down the interstate at 70+ miles an hour.

i acted on instinct, weaving through the first wave of attackers. freedom was only a couch away. this was my great and worthy enemy. i dug deep and remembered the advice of emilio estevez from the mighty ducks.

looking over to my passenger seat, i swear i could see gordon bombay instructing me on how to perform a triple deak. he walked me through the steps and a few swift moves later i was past the spinning death the couch was ready to deliver.

safe and unharmed, i looked behind me only to see the couch find its way to the side of the road as my fellow road warriors passed safely. but as i looked upon the couch one last time in the rear view, i swear i saw it mouth these words:

"i will get you."

from now on, i will live in fear. somewhere out there, a couch longs for my demise.

opryland

2007-07-10T23:44:00.000-05:00

without a doubt, one of the greatest travesties to befall not only middle tennessee, but possibly the world was the closing of opryland, u.s.a.

during the reconstruct camp week, teams are given wednesday night off and are sent off into nashville to do whatever their collective little heart desires. there is always a group or groups that venture out to opry mills, a shopping mall built upon the broken utopia that was our theme park.

instead of the hangman, we now have bass pro shops.
instead of chaos, we have glow golf.
instead of the screamin delta demon, we have the rain forrest cafe.
instead of fun for the whole family, we have various outlet stores.

it saddens me.

i know people will tell me that it was a necessary financial move, that the park was profitable and that a mall would bring in more people. to those people i say: you have no heart and are probably dead on the inside. we could have found a way. it just happened so fast. i didn't even get to say goodbye.

this is a strange post.

i really miss opryland.

beths

2007-07-10T23:43:00.001-05:00

jan, jillian, karyn

danger isn't any of my names

2007-07-06T16:13:00.000-05:00

the other day, i witnessed gunfire from about 30 feet away. i have produced some drawings to help convey the drama.

i was atop a roof in nashville off of trinity lane. as you look upon the drawing you most certainly will find a blue dot labeled "Tim." for those of you who didn't know already, my name is tim. it is nice to meet you.

as i diligently worked on house A, i noticed a navy blue navigator (the blue square) creeping up the road in my direction. it moved slower and slower as it approached.

as he drove past the house, i noticed the man lower the window and raise a handgun. i then witnessed him pull back the top of the gun, making it ready to fire. (this happened on the x in front of house B).

when the driver reached the space just between houses A & X, he reached his gun out of the window and fired into the air. the gun let off a little smoke. it almost sounded like a cap gun. but it was definitely a real gun.

afterwords, i realized what had happened and began fighting crime. i leaped from the roof, chased down the car and gave the would-be assassins a firm talking to.

i told them of the dangers of firearms using the episode of beverly hills 90210 when david's friend that wore the cowboy hat accidentally shot himself in his father's office. he told me he loved 90210 and remembered the episode well. i asked him how he felt about the direction the series took over its lengthy run. he said that he missed the innocence of the first few seasons when brandon and brenda were just a couple of minnesotans trying to fit in the fast-moving world that was, and is, beverly hills.....90210. i concurred.

i told him to be more careful in the future and to think of his mother. he gave me a hearty hand shake and went about his business assuring me that he was going to pawn his gun and buy multiple bibles (he wanted various translations).

job well done, life saved and tragedy averted.

actually, i just went back to working all the while thinking: "someone almost shot me."

flight of the conchords

2007-07-01T22:00:00.000-05:00

it had me at the rhymenoceros. i've been wanting to see this show for a while now and just got done watching my first episode.

i very much look forward to developing a fondness for it.

king of the road

2007-06-17T07:53:00.002-05:00

after a long day of work andy, my fellow reconstructer, and i embarked upon a long and arduous journey through the mean streets of nashville to the friendly confines that is our brentwood baptist home. traffic would be horendous that fateful day as traffic slowed to a halt numerous times on our voyage home. i suppose the traffic congestion could be credited to the fact that there was a wreck on nearly every major interstate.

tired and sun-beaten, we fled from the interstate onto less crowded streets only to find so many tired souls with the same idea.

again, we halted.

yet fate would shine on us this day, brightly with a vibrant pallet of colors. we would be treated to what i would call, easily, the greatest exercise routine known to man (with the possible exception of j'arming, the conductor's secret to a long and healthy life).

andy and i looked on with childlike glee and enthusiasm as a man danced his way down the street. it was as much as a shuffle as anything but he worked in a mighty fine moonwalk several times as we looked upon him in wonder. the man was clad in less than flattering blue shorts, a skin tight yellow tank-top, a yellow sweat band and enormous sunglasses. he carried his cd player close to his chest as it pumped out what i can only assume were motivational jams. here is an "artist" interpretation:
as this magnificant person shimmied his way down the road, he would continually point (in rythym mind you) to all of the following: the road, the sidewalk, passing motorists, stationary motorists, debree, restaraunts and a police officer.
for the, roughly, mile and a half that we kept pace with him, a senior citizen shimmying machine, i could not be anything but delighted with the life with which God has blessed me. he brought joy to my heart.

andy and i agreed that if there were more men like this on our nation's road systems, road rage would be no more. in light of that thought, i am developing a proposal for tdot which suggests the employment of various movers and shakers to patrol our good state's roadways to spread good cheer during the slowest of traffic days. i feel like this is the start of change. revolution is in the air.

pinball

2007-06-17T07:53:00.001-05:00

as an ambivert (1/2 extravert, 1/2 intravert), i require an odd balance of community and solitude. i feel as though that balance has been attacked.

part of my reconstruct job requires me to sleep at the church with the teams of middle and high schoolers there for the week. sleeping at the church is quite odd. meandering through the halls in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom is even stranger.

for the most part it has been great. i love the work reconstruct does, not to mention how they go about doing it. the people i am working with are great. it has been fun.

i just haven't had the time to sit and do nothing, that downtime i so greatly cherish. my mind has longed for the chance to just rome free, to entertain the myriad of ideas that run through it. i am adjusting to it but it is taking a little time.

i think i am starting to want some stability in my life. i'm wanting to get rooted in something and start living. i've been wanting that for a while, praying for that for a while. it just isn't coming. God, at least i'm hoping, has me in this strange little threshold place.

it feels like pinball. i should note that i really don't care for that game. but that is how my life has been the last 3+ years. i've been knocked into one thing, got caught up in it for a while, spun around and spat out into another little doo-dad. sometimes they have shining lights and make funny noises. sometimes they are incredibly boring. but for the most part they leave me dizzy.

i just can't manage to see straight. i can't manage to get an answer. i can't manage to get going.

perhaps that is why i don't like pinball: there is no real goal. i've never been interested in points. i've been interested in progress, in moving forward. in pinball, you can't really win. you can't really move forward. you just go back and forth from one thing to another, never really settling down all the while trying to just stay afloat, trying to stay in play, trying to stay out of the gutter.

at the very least, i'm still in play. i'm still looking for some escape from the machine. i need out. i have this fear that i'm stuck here. i'm so very grateful for the experiences, for the things i've been able to do, places i've gone and people i've met. i can't say that enough. i am genuinely grateful. but i need something. i just have no idea what that is.

i apologize if this came off as a sort of whiny quarter-life crisis post, something not unlike a zach braff movie. but truth be told, i've talked to a lot of people who seem to be on their last quarter that feel the same way. ahh, the great release of incoherent blogging. i'd almost forgotten how strange it feels.

donald

2007-06-17T07:53:00.000-05:00

yesterday ended the first week of my summer stint with reconstruct. i must say that i enjoyed the experience in spite of the fact that i wasn't able to read or sleep very much.

the week after easter i helped with a team that came in from washington state put on a few roofs. the home owner at one of the sites was named donald and i got to know him fairly well. this past week we had a crew paint his house so i made sure to stop by to see how he was doing.

donald told us in april that his stepson had murdered his birth son and then took his own life. as you can imagine, it had effected him quite badly. he would tear up whenever he mentioned him. donald does have one other son.

several times during the course of each week he made mention of things he and that son had done. he showed us the new patio set that his son had bought for him, told me about the time last year they went to see the fireworks at riverfront park and about how his son was trying to get him to go with them again this year. when he would tell me these things i would get the sense that he wasn't exactly being truthful. there was something about the way he spoke about these things that didn't seem right.

unfortunately, they weren't true. his son refuses to talk to him and will not see him. donald made it up so we wouldn't know. i could make guesses about why he did lie. i can understand, to a degree, why he lied. i suppose i've done and continue to do that too.

most of us care deeply about other people's perception of us. we want to be thought normal, or intelligent, or funny, or popular, or a good miny-golfer, or a good listener or somebody who cares more about other people than themselves or somebody who _____.

it is those few who don't seem to care that throw me off. they are who they are and that is all they know how to be. some times this is refreshing. sometimes you wished they would pretend at the very least to care (they probably do in reality).

i'd like to think that i've moved beyond this, that i'm a pretty genuine person. i think for the most part i am. but i still have those moments when i become something i'm not for whatever reason. so i understand donald wanting us to think that he and his son have a normal relationship, that his son would by a gift for the father he loves.

i understand the front, but it won't do him or any of us a bit of good. it won't build community for one of the loneliest people i've come to know. it won't alleviate the pain of his relationships with his sons. it will build up inside of him and hurt more.

i couldn't tell you how many times i've heard the classic advice of 'just be yourself.' i'm just now seeing how hard that really is for just about everybody. maybe we're scared that our self isn't good enough. thank God our self is good enough for Him. we don't have to create this perfect, utopian person to present before him. he comes to us as the wrecks we are, without prejudice. that is amazing to me.

young love

2007-06-11T17:31:00.000-05:00

today, while driving in the reconstruct expedition, a pertinent song from my past bellowed through the spacious interior. it is safe to say that my fearless vocal performance was less than perfect. i was, indeed, a bit pitchy.

the song, since you're probably wondering, was foreigner's "i want to know what love is." the vocal range of this song takes me a bit past my comfort zone, a comfort zone i'll leave only for songs that lead me into wistful joy.

this song just happens to be the first and only "song" i've ever had in a relationship. in seventh grade (the beginning of the two-year period of my life which i classify as my 'prime') i was dating the head cheerleader, whitney wiggins. i must also mention that she was in eighth grade at the time, an older woman. as the song ended, it made me quite happy that i have moved beyond the awkwardness of my early relationships and into a new awkwardness which has been at the forefront of every relationship since.

the irony of it all is that i'm still not sure i know what love actually is. perhaps listening to cheesy power ballads will help speed that along. bands like journey and boston will be my new teachers as i search for it. i will learn of love as i sing in falsetto with frizzy haired men from the past.

cleansing

2007-06-11T17:27:00.000-05:00

the other day i was told by two people that they were tired of reading that i stunk. the only purpose of this post is to declare myself clean and smelling delightfully like the springs of ireland.

i smell much like garbage

2007-05-23T03:59:00.000-05:00

today i left my house at 8:45 am to begin work. it is now 4 am exactly and i just got home (i haven't even showered yet).

in my exhaustion, i've had the most profound thoughts of my life. the sad thing is that the only thing i can remember is that the thoughts i've had are profound.

taargus. taargus.

2007-05-08T21:14:00.000-05:00

this evening i stopped by target on my way home. when i came out to my car, i found a note under my windshield wiper. at first, i assumed somebody had hit my car. this was not the case. i soon discovered some interesting news. the note read as follows:

"your wife's new legal name is Taargus. Taargus."

needless to say, i was both shocked and relieved. it lead me to some serious metaphysical questioning, due in large part that i am now and have always been without wife.

i could not stop my mind from entertaining the crazy ideas that went through my head on the lovely drive home. i could assume that somebody was having fun with me as part of some grassroots movement many hip youth are involved with- which is most likely the case- but i would rather believe that it was intended for a real person and mistakenly given to me. either way, i am happy to have received it.

there are two things which make me appreciate this note. the first is the fact that my wife has a new legal name of which i am unaware and the idea that this news would have been delivered in anonymity via a note under the wiper of a car.

the second thing is that they felt the need to repeat the last name. taargus. taargus. undoubtedly written so as to promote perfect clarity. they wanted it to sink in and they wanted me to know that this was indeed her new legal name.

for much of the ride home, i found myself repeating that name: taargus, taargus, taargus and so on and so forth. i began to believe it to be true. i couldn't help but ask myself why she couldn't just tell me she had a new name. i can only assume it is a new marriage that brought about this change. i would have liked to hear it from her. i feel she owes me that. did our marriage mean nothing? taargus......... taargus. i would have been fine with it. i'm learning to live without her. taargus............ i guess it really is over. this confirms it. she's moved on. and i'm in the same place. taargus..... taargus. at any rate, i'm happy for her. i guess. she's living her life. that's all any of us can do. taargus, just what kind of name is taargus?

curiosity is strong in me. i googled taargus. my findings were strange, disconcerting and involved myspace (a place i do not tread often and for good reason). i believe that name might be uzbeki.

-------------------

there is no future

2007-04-29T20:00:00.000-05:00

over the last few months and weeks this blog has been moving forward at a very sad and dismal pace. for that i apologize. i've come to the point where i know i must either hang it up or change my approach to it.

when i started this endeavor back in january of 2006, my intentions were to keep people informed about my time in moldova. it served that purpose well and began to serve other purposes i hadn't intended, such as giving me an outlet to discuss cereal eating techniques/methods, saved by the bell, michael bolton and also serving as something i could discuss the amazing joys and even more amazing struggles that come in the service of the God that sits on the throne of grace.

admittedly, i've lost a great deal of motivation to keep posting random ideas, randomly. i've pondered, lately, why that has been. tonight, with the help of martin buber's i and Thou and a couple of conversations i've had with jay strother, i feel like i've come to a bit of a conclusion.

i've been caught up with the future. what am i going to do next? what is the next step in the service of Christ's church? these are the questions i've been asking. these are the questions i've been asked.... a lot.

they are good and fair questions. i am not arguing with that. but i've been wrapped up in them. i've been captivated by them, hounded by them, frustrated with them (or by my lack of an answer to them) and i've grown tired of them. but again, they are good and fair questions.

it just dawned on me with abnormal simplicity and clarity tonight that the future rarely if ever teaches us. actually, let me restate this: the future doesn't teach us anything. to a degree, the future doesn't even exist-only in the promises of God.

my friend, houston, enjoys proclaiming the non-existence of potential energy. i enjoy bringing it up and find myself agreeing. physicists will debate us and use facts, data and what have you but we use passion- something i find to be a great deal more convincing.

i'm starting to throw the future into that same boat. the future doesn't exist unless it is happening (which makes it the present) or until it has happened (which makes it the past). it is a constant hypothetical, a mere possibility - if back to the future II taught us anything, it taught us this.
this unsupported argument should explain the title of this post and hopefully let you know that it is not a cry for help or a declaration of the hopelessness in the wasteland in which we live.

no, instead this is a plea. it is a plea to myself most of all, a plea to get out of the nonexistent future. it's a plea to get out of our five-year plans. it's a plea to get out of our fears of future failures or even successes.

it is a plea to meet God right now, right here or there (as you sit reading this). we spend too much time worrying about tomorrow, about what we will eat or wear (mt 6). God calls us to the present, to live for his purposes now. the past is gone and the future is only a philiosophical concept.

however, we do have a future, a glorious future, rather, inheritance. but in the paraphrased words of stanley grenz (possibly): 'let us live our lives now as we will one day become.' that hope is stored up and hidden in Christ for us (I peter 1, colossians 3). the kingdom of God is in the here and now as well as the eternal.

and it is in light of that i strive to live.

--------------------------------------------------------

i am going to continue this blog. but it is going to change. it has lacked purpose for a while. i am going to try to write something more in the vain of little essays. i need something to hold me accountable to productive and challenging thought. i have yet to determine what the regularity of it will be. i'd like to do at least two a month but have no set schedule as of now. what i do not want to do is what i've been doing lately: just posting something random so i don't have a bagel in the monthly archive.

thank you for reading and also to those of you who have commented both on this blog and in person about it. i hope this renewed vigor will prove mutually helpful. Godspeed

lost

2007-04-16T12:14:00.000-05:00

as my blog slowly moves into a seldom-used keeper of random and mostly obscure thoughts, i decided i would write about the one television show i make a point of viewing: Lost. i will preface this post by declaring that i am long past the stage of trying to figure out what is going on. i have become purely an observer. i do not theorize, i do not make detailed charts and graphs about the show and i do not feel the pressure to do so. i will say this: it isn't pergatory. please stop telling me it is.

well, this week's episode was outstanding. this week was also the first week that i almost didn't get to see it.

i am working with reconstruct this summer http://reconstruct.org/ and this past week we had a group from seattle. i was staying with them at brentwood baptist. yeah, i slept in the church. it was a bit strange, especially walking to the shower with a towel, my little bathroom tote and flip flops. i felt a little like mr. belding when he and becky had fallen into a little rough patch and slater found him in the bathroom while mr. b was living at bayside.

the week was fantastic. but as it went on, i feared that i might not be able to watch lost. luckily the group went to a farm or something wednesday and didn't come back till after the show was over. that is most of them didn't come back until the show was over.

in the middle of the show, i got a call from one of the group's leaders telling me two of the guys were outside of the church and that i needed to let them in. so i waited until a commercial break and sprinted from dennis worley's office (a big thank you to mr. worley for letting me watch it in his office), to door 11 to let the kids in. i shook hands with their parents had them say their goodbye's and then made them sprint with me back to dennis' office.

we made it without missing a word of dialogue. but it turned out that they had never seen the show. so the next commercial break, i explained- in as much detail as was necessary- the entire plots of season 1, season 2 and got them current on season 3 with a little bit of character plots thrown in for good measure. i felt like the micro-machines guy explaining it.

this event really heightened my enjoyment of the episode not to mention the fact that there were so many answers given and the bonus of the last minute's punch to the gut.

truthfully, i wouldn't mind this show enjoying the type of run that friends or seinfielf or even the simpsons have enjoyed.

happy birthday mom

2007-03-12T17:20:00.000-05:00

today i witnessed a man with a shaved-bald head wearing a hairnet.

it did not seem needed.

i'm fairly certain it was required of the law since he was in a bakery (working, he wasn't a patron). it stuck with me for a while. i suppose the reason for that is daylight saving time.

i'd like to go on the record as saying that i oppose daylight saving. daylight should be lost like so many keys, remotes & common men's dignity.

if history serves me right, i believe it was benjamin franklin who thought this deplorable ritual. although that man did much for his fellow man- bifocals, flexible catheters, the glass harmonica & the studies of refrigeration, electricity and, of course, kite flying- i feel that he could of refrained from ever mentioning daylight saving.

now don't get me wrong, i do enjoy falling back. why wouldn't i? but springing forward is of the devil. if the good people of the world would like to enjoy the sun longer, let them get up earlier. just don't disturb my sleeping habits. also, don't make me late for things, or uncomfortably early. and most of all, don't make me attempt to change my various clocks and watches, especially the watches.

we're told, by the 'experts,' that daylight savings saves electricity. more and more each day, i trust experts less. this brings me back to my first observation. somewhere there is an expert or even experts who decided that hair nets would prevent unwanted hair from infiltrating all types of foods, including pastries and the like. this is true. but they go to far and mandate that all people working in the bakery must wear hairnets. thus this man is forced to wear a hair net over his hairless head. there is no reason that this man should be wearing this thing.

unless of couse he likes the hairnet. which is what i'm saying about daylight saving time.

daylight saving time is just fine. but it shouldn't be forced upon us all, only those with hair in the food preperation business who like to enjoy as much sun as they can while cutting back on their usage of electricity.

why don't we just take off or put on, from the actual time, 30 minutes and leave it alone.

a month and change

2007-02-11T19:34:00.000-06:00

for some reason i have become a binge/purge writer. i fear this to be a character trait since i have long carried this habit as a reader.

i have also noticed that i am particularly fickle in the area of my facial hair. it seems i cannot commit to any one form of whiskery. this could be in part to my portly state of being. without fail, the removal of my beard (as it did just this week) will lead me to wonder at my small collection of chins, a collection which now leads me to believe that not having a beard will eventually lead me to a thinner and ultimately healthier lifestyle due to the unpleasantness that accompanies any gaze at my reflection. i hope this to be a hypothesis which will prove itself true.

now, there is a reason i'm writing this evening. yes, there was some inspiration, a muse that begat this post. that muse be chuck klosterman and his book of deconstructive pop-culture prose, sex, drugs & cocoa puffs. in this book of essays, klosterman analyzes subject matter that ranges from billy joel's artistic merit to the importance of saved by the bell (an obvious reason for my initial attraction to it).

i am aware that most of the people who will read this (most being about 4 out of the 5 to 7 people who do read this from time to time) started reading this because i was living in moldova doing mission work and might be surprised that i would read a book with 'sex' & 'drugs' in the title. i will also say that if this book was rated using the movie rating system we all seem to be familiar with, it would be rated 'R' for language mostly (outside of that it is pretty much pg-13). that being said, i really enjoyed reading it.

klosterman managed to give meaning to seemingly meaningless topics. at the very least he tried to thoughtfully look at things we mostly thoughtlessly ingest. as a christian, i even found some of his insights to be quite pertinent to my spiritual life and thought that the church could benefit from some of his observations. in fact, had some scripture been thrown in, the language and more risky subject matter been toned down, and of course some simple faith revelations been inserted, this book would be something hip & 'emergent' christians would proudly display on both their bookshelves and tables at the starbucks in which they are reading it (right next to their copies of 'velvet elvis' and anything written by donald miller. yes, it is that type of book, a quasi-pomo (almost postmodern if you prefer) work that is quite engaging but makes things much more important than they probably are.

perhaps, that is why i enjoyed it. i am either in a place where i am making things much more important than they are or not making things important enough. either way i have felt somewhat disengaged with the world around me as of late. i don't quite feel connected to anything, or for that matter, anybody at this time. i don't mean this to sound as if i'm depressed. i'm not. i just feel disconnected.

there is a great part of me that would like to blame this on my time in moldova. i don't mean blame here in a negative sense. i simply mean it in the sense of causation. it has been over 5 months that i've been home. i'm not sure that i did a good job re-entering the world i'm currently in. there is a sense of liminality in my life right now. it can feel as though i'm not really anywhere. i'm just living.

but i can't just live. that will kill me.

i need to be engaged in something, be challenged by something, be something. it has been very hard to be passionate about anything. i hate that.

there is a good part of me that fears that life could become that and that i could just become the type of person who never looks beyond surface of anything i see. perhaps i am envying that characteristic of klosterman. the things we all consider mundane, he looks at with an earnest desire for meaning.

i remember somebody telling me that somebody like john piper, if not him, said something to the effects of this: if you can't see God's glory in a morning cup of orange juice, then you're missing it entirely. i suppose that's true to some extent. but i feel like the reason that has stuck with me is because i can't.

i really have trouble with that. orange juice comes from oranges from a tree from the soil of the earth God created in a incredibly divine and holy moment. and i suppose that the creation of that agricultural system of progression, in God's providence, speaks of His great love and omniscience in a way that is profoundly spiritual and moving. i'm sure there is beauty in that. i just seem to notice the level of pulp, whether it be too much or too little.

perhaps that is why i feel disconnected: because i look at cup of orange juice and see pulp and the certain unpleasantness that comes with it after i've brushed my teeth.

i'm just tired of it. i'm tired of feeling so garbled and scattered. i'm thankful for the growth and learning i've had over the last year or two. i just want to live life more richly, more abundantly, with less of a gut and as soon as possible.

What?!

2007-01-03T12:01:00.000-06:00

my grandmother, nana, has been staying with us over the holiday season. more so than most years, nana has become hard of hearing. this has made for fun times.

just now, as i was checking the weather reports and my dad was eating lunch in the kitchen, one such time occurred. it went something like the following:

(phone rings, dad is at the table & nana close by)

dad: hello this is bill (to the caller)
nana: bill, is that you?
dad: yes (to the caller)
nana: yes bill, what is it?
dad: (continues on with business conversation)
nana: what?! oh.

this conversation is a very standard kind of thing. it is also interesting how easily and inevitably i scare her. when i come up the stairs, regardless of how quietly or loudly i do so, she will be very startled, proceeding to tell me that i "scared the s#%t out of her." according to my unofficial calculations, i've scared this material out of her close to 24 times in only a few weeks (a personal best).

also, i feel it important to say that i started this year off in manly fashion. on new years day i chopped wood, started a fire, and sounded a barbaric yawp throughout the wilderness (the roofs of the world were far away). i'm a lumberjack and i'm okay.

Christmas

2006-12-23T13:25:00.000-06:00

an original paint production by twbedi.
(note: artwork is not to scale)

yurt wanted

2006-12-19T22:45:00.000-06:00

those of you that spend much time with me have probably heard me speak of the glorious yurt. for those of you who have never heard of a yurt, congratulations, life is about to get better.

yurts are a dwelling typically used in central asia, which the picture above shows, not to mention a goat-lady who got back. note that this lady has dropped as if it were hot. the yurts easy transportability made it ideal for the nomadic lifestyle of many inhabitants of countries like mongolia, russia and siberia.

they would be made of rods, covered in felt and could be carried by cart. passed from generation to generation, the shangrak, or center ring, would show the heritage of the family. walls would be made from lattice or some type of collaspable wall.
the dwellings are suprisingly well engineered and are used in some of the most extreme weather conditions on God's green earth, from deserts to polar tundras. i would say that it would be safe to call them architecture's thermos. the yurt of the past, though still in use in some cultures, is becoming popular again today. i believe that is because 'yurt' is fun to say and also, in large part, due to this guys hat.

he also has excellent facial hair. that is actually my great great uncle, svetozar bjelica bedi. i'm told we have the same laugh. old toz, as his friends called him, loved a good joke. i also, unfortunately, inherited his child-bearing hips.

i digress.

as i was saying, the yurt is becoming popular and modernized. because they are affordable, semi-permanent, versatile and highly adaptable, people around the world are beginning to utililze architecture's thermos, the yurt. now a days, yurts are made with high-tech materials and becoming very modern. they are used as vaction homes, art studios, for businesses, camping and many other things. the unique interiors can be finished out as any home would be. some examples:

needless to say, i love yurts. it is my hopes to one day have a yurt. i would like it to serve as perhaps a pottery studio, workshop or even a study. i would also like to start a cult. perhaps the greatest potential of the yurt could be filling the cult housing niche. they seem like perfect dwellings for a strange commune with crazy, rather, misunderstood ideas and views.

if you'd like to learn more about yurts, or price them, please do:

http://www.yurt.com

http://www.coloradoyurt.com/

http://www.rainieryurts.com/

or you could purchase yourself or someone you love this book:

http://www.amazon.com/Yurts-Living-Round-Becky-Kemery/dp/1586858912/sr=8-2/qid=1166592997/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/102-2274086-8156910?ie=UTF8&s=books

respect the como

2006-12-15T18:26:00.000-06:00

i spent yesterday evening visiting targets and listening to perry como sing ave maria. the perry como christmas album forces christmas cheer upon all those who are unsuspecting. look at that cover and tell me you wouldn't go for a cup of egg nog and a little debbie christmas tree or whatever christmas treet your taste buds enjoy. i long to have my head pictured on a such a beautiful reef but that goes without saying.

i enjoy the como. perhaps it's just his name: perry como. the name 'perry como' just makes me think of happy. it's the name of somebody you'd like to have on your side, not in a fight or anything like that, just in life.

as i mentioned earlier, perry and i went to targets. we went to targets because until saturday they are selling the firefly series dvd (quick pause to thank seth worley for his firefly passion) for 18.99$ and it is normally 39.99$. those are the kind of savings with which i can get on board, you'd better believe it. the only problem was that it was not in stock at any target in the world.

this did trouble me because i'm cheap and probably wouldn't buy it at full price. then i found that i could get a rain check on the price for 45 days. my heart sang for joy and the late perry como sang right along (his music will never die). all i had to do was take a slip of paper to the register, have the person scan it and then a receipt would print allowing me to buy the product beyond the sale date at the sale price. bravo target. job well done. now i don't have to worry. i will have the extra 20$ to blow on whatever i want, like perry como's greatest hits.

perry como

1912-2001

singer of songs, friend of birds

for more info on perry como http://www.perrycomo.net/

An Evening with Jaco, Nick & Will

2006-11-29T20:56:00.000-06:00

this evening was spent in good company, company of such superb quality that i felt it necessary to mark the evening with a posting.

those of you who know me know that i have a fondness for books. a good read is something which delights me very much. as any person who reads often can tell you, a genuinely good read is a hard find. i have been fortunate enough to have not one but three of these in a row, two of which i finished this evening. extremely loud & incredibly close by jonathan safron foer was the one that started it off. however, the two books of this evening, brother to a dragonfly by will d.campbell and the polysyllabic spree by nick hornby, were read with the musical stylings of a certain jaco pastorius. those of you familiar with all three can see that they aren't exactly matched, yet they came together.

jaco's punk jazz provided the right background for me to get into a sort of transcendental reading zone as it were. to enter such a state, it takes the proper setting, the proper level of comfort/discomfort (discomfort because too much comfort will lead to slumber), the proper writing, and the type of music that will not distract, keep you focused, move you along with a steady beat and occasionally provide a nice and entertaining break from the written word. jaco's music fulfilled all of the musical requirements. (note: i will often turn to jazz, blues [of the delta variety, typically acoustic], folk, and rarely things i know the words to, things i can passively listen to, but still enjoy while blocking out distracting things like people or silence, which does distract me much of the time).

campbell's book, a gritty look at this man's life with his brother, was recommended to me by a certain brian coates. i am a bit picky about whose recommendations i'll read and thus far brian is two for two, introducing me to this book and buechner's telling secrets.

this book was also featured in documentary i saw some time ago on pbs, bits of it came back to me as i read it. in fact, a while back i was writing a paper on the main views of the atonement and i stumbled upon a quote from this book: "basically, we're all bastards but God loves us anyway." at the time when i read it i felt much like a bastard, for reasons i either cannot remember or wish not to divulge, thus it endeared itself to me although it was quoted as a someone once said. it was nice to finally read it within its context and to know the man it came from, this guy.

i like his hat too. the book reminded me much of the birmingham civil rights institute. campbell was very much involved in that movement and the bcri is a fantastic place to learn about that time in our history and the people who fought, and fight for that matter, to rid this world of injustice. i have always regretted not knowing more about history. i say that like i'm an old man without the time to learn about it. that being said, i hope not to be as ignorant as i feel about the past in the future.

finishing that book and with jaco still moving along (there are 28 songs on that album and some of those move beyond the ten minute mark with ease and splendor), i decided to start the aforementioned book by nick hornby. he is fantastic. if you've seen about a boy, fever pitch, & high fidelity then you've seen two very good movies and one watachable movie based on two of his novels and one of his memoirs. i enjoy the british witt and hornby's got it as well as a fantastic drawing of himself looking a bit like thomas merton (see book to the right).

recently, i decided that i would like to read all of his books. i had read all of his novels and one of the short story books he edited, so i thought it wouldn't take much of a commitment to knock the other one's out. i've got fever pitch, 31 songs, otherwise pandemonium, & housekeeping vs dirt left to read (i've got h vs d if anyone wants to give me a random gift of the other three).

i digress.

the book i read tonight was a collection of articles he wrote for a literary magazine about the books he bought and the books he read. i found it absolutely fantastic. he is extremely funny (at some point i'll publish some quotes).

as a book reader who is far behind on the owned and read scale, i could easily relate to his musings. rarely, actually never, do i buy a book at full price. i cannot afford to do that. i buy many of my books at thrift stores or buy them used on the world wide web. for a brief time in my life i worked at an independent book store. that experience proved to be expensive. it was like having an alcoholic, non-recovering alcoholic working at liquor store in which he got a substantial discount. luckily it lasted only a summer. but i still have books i've read a 1/3, 1/2 or not a word of which i purchased there.

the book is perfect for people with my disease. i love to read and it is nice to see other people out there with the same sickness. if you are one of those people, i hope that you'll one day read this one.

yes, i did enjoy my evening with these gentlemen and i hope to have another one like it with a different set of folk. i had a professor in college one time tell me, over a cup of coffee, that he was very bulimic in his reading. he would binge and purge, reading tons and then nothing. i am very much the same way. i'm like a bear storing up fat for the winter only my salmon be literature.

Horray for Churros!

2006-11-28T17:40:00.000-06:00

today, unlike most days, i felt the strong desire for a spanish treat. it did take me off guard, believe you me. but when such a craving calls, you must answer. and answer i did.

i prepared the churros with a love and tenderness that only a mother could appreciate. careful that each churro was made to the exact specifications that the government of spain mandates, i ushered every bit of uncooked churro-dough into an already warmed pan of vegetable oil as i made sure to minimize the splash. magic abounded as they reached the crunchy, golden-brown consistency i desired and they deserved. my attention was never divided until they were placed, in neat rows, onto a tray so that the excess oil could drain.

as the oil continued to drip from these pastries, i began to scientifically mix unequal parts of cinnamon and sugar. ideally they would be dipped into a thick and melted chocolate, but i do not find myself ready for such a culinary challenge at this point of my life. staying within my own limits, i bravely began to sprinkle the scientific creation onto the still-warm churros.

looking at them i knew i had done something special. before me was a set of glorious churros ready to be enjoyed. each delicious fried-dough cinnamon and sugar covered pastry snack was treated with the utmost care as i, taking sensible bites, placed them into my mouth. i think it safe to say that i tasted beauty this day, a beauty that can only be understood by those who have also tasted the goodness of a warm churro, crafted with love.

it was not until later i realized that the preparation to the dazzling of the taste buds had left the kitchen with the strong, lingering smell of vegetable oil. it was, nay, is quite potent. but i feel, as i hope most of you reading this now would, that the delightful taste of this spanish treat was worth any olfactory discomfort. and that, good people, you can take to the bank!

Bolton vs. Seger

2006-11-20T00:28:00.000-06:00

without a doubt, one of my most prized possessions is a michael bolton t-shirt. in a word, it's glorious.

this shirt is always a crowd pleaser, always classy and always the sexiest attire in the room. i recently had the great joy of giving a bolton t-shirt to one of my good friends on the eve of his wedding. much like me, wearing this beautiful man on his chest has brought him great joy.

office space is a film that has very much heightened the joy of a michael bolton t-shirt. those in the know will frequently recite lines from the movie, allowing me to join in with lines such as "i've got to tell ya, i am a big fan" & "to me it doesn't get any better than when he sings 'when a man loves a woman.'" what i'm saying is that it, more times than not, makes for a good time. it's hard not to smile when looking at the curly headed beauty.

tonight, however, i had a different sort of experience. on the way home i stopped for some milk. while shopping, i passed a woman who was wearing a bob seger shirt. she looked at me as if i was painted purple. she obviously was a detroit rock type of person. the fact that i, a 'man' would sport the likes of an easy-listening tool like michael bolton on my chest made her want to vomit, if only a taster.

i walked by, but my mind stayed there. what if there was a seger/bolton clash? who would win this classic confrontation? let's find out.

Bob Seger

vs.

Michael Bolton

the pictures above shall represent the warriors in this brawl. bolton, much like samson, lost all of his power when he cut those glorious locks. i also like seger at this stage of life. i don't really care to look at the chubby, short-haired seger.

some ground rules. the silver bullet band must not interfere. this war must be waged between the two vocalists. there will be 3 rounds: round 1- wailing ability, round 2- overall presentation, round 3- musical merit

round 1: wailing ability

seger comes out strong. his throaty voice finds its mark..... our hearts. seger is so blue-collar that even his singing sounds like a hard day at the office. he earns every note, singing them with the authority kids today need what with their winy emo. the way he sings makes you believe everything he says. i believe he'll keep running against the wind, i believe that he is going and i should turn the page, i believe he is indeed like a rock and as strong as he could be, and i believe that we have got tonight and i certainly will stay.

bolton lacks no gusto. he is another man who works for his notes. the power that comes out of this man is a like a firework display that will keep you saying 'ooooh' all night. each word comes from deep within his gut. at times you feel that his head is in danger of exploding. for instance, towards the end of when a man loves a woman there is a very likely chance that the average man passes out in any attempt to wail in such a manner. he also seems to have a better grasp of the falsetto, example: a few seconds into love is a wonderful thing.

bolton, much like seger, leads you to believe the words he sings. unfortunately, bolton's words are usually somebody else’s. but this is not about what they sing, but how they sing it. although i very much enjoy listening to seger, i can't help but believe that bolton would out wail him any day. seger voice sounds as if he has a perpetual sore throat. bolton wails his way into a round one victory.

round 2: overall presentation

this is a basically a way for me to say appearance.

bolton's mullet, as much as i adore it, is a little gaudy. obviously, i think he is better off with it than without it, but it certainly doesn't add any class. he typically will wear a shirt unbuttoned a bit to show off a little chest. it is not uncommon for him to sport a jacket. this adds a bit of class, but the mullet brings him right back down. when singing he seems to do a fist clinching thing as his face looks as though he is giving birth. overall, i feel as though he looks as if he is trying not to go to the bathroom.

i always think of seger on the railroad tracks in all black. the black is a good move for bob. let's face it; he doesn't have bolton's physique (which isn't saying much). he also possesses something bolton doesn't have, stupendous facial hair. seger can grow a beard with the best of them. i'd also have to say that his feathered looking hair is much more respectable than the mane bolton sported. on stage, seger is as blue-collared as a man can be.

bottom line, i feel less uncomfortable watching seger do what he does. i'll always feel a bit awkward when bolton attempts to seduce all within view. bolton is a bit creepy (not a minor factor in my love for my bolton t-shirt.
round two is seger's.

round 3: the goods

both have had their share of hits. bolton just seems to sing other people's hits a lot more than seger. that is going to hurt him in this round. he has released entire albums of other people's songs with a bolton twist, i.e. hernia inducing vocal efforts. but i won't lie; few songs make me happier than love is a wonderful thing. few songs touch my heart like how am i supposed to live without you (extra points for being in a classic saved by the bell episode). few songs hurt like said i loved you.... but i lied (shady michael, shady). and few songs make me admire a man's commitment to butchering a classic as when a man loves a woman.

seger, quite simply, is fantastic. turn the page, night moves, we've got tonight, old time rock and roll, like a rock and against the wind. there aren't many artists with 6 songs of this caliber. while bolton reminds me of office space and saved by the bell, seger's songs inspire memories of tom cruise in his underwear and tom hanks running across our beautiful country. it is also very important to remember that, as cruel as this sounds, seger isn't a joke. bolton, has sort of become one. office space ensured that.
round three.... seger.

thus, the woman who looked at my bolton t-shirt with such disdain was right to look down upon me. seger is the greater of the two. if only she could read this. she would know that i didn't wear that shirt because i think he rocks. i dawn that shirt because michael bolton is lame and should be celebrated for it.

another post about a finger

2006-11-17T17:51:00.000-06:00

on wednesday i decided that my left hand would look much more stylish if i cut off a small part of it. since i hate wasting time, i decided that it would be best if i attempted to trim my left pointer finger while cutting some drywall. multi-tasking is a wonderful thing.

as my finger began to spurt blood, i began a series of classic verbal fireworks (wonderfully colorful and, surprisingly, pg rated). i decided it would be wise to see how bad it was in order to determine whether a doctor or just duct tape would be in order.

it was bad enough to make me think about a doctor visit but not bad enough for me to forget just how big of a deductible i have on my insurance policy. i decided that duct tape would not do but a doctor would be too much like pampering my finger, with there sterilized instruments, degrees and what not.

i came home and washed the finger, marveling at the canyon-like gash this, in the words of bob ross, 'happy little accident' had created.

the first dressing of the wound did not quite do the job as blood began to drip from the bandage. i could hear the doctor calling. ignoring his cries, as well as my own, i started over. success was mine.

the finger is starting to mend. there are none of the following: odd smells, strange discoloring, signs of gangrene, puss spewing or even septicemia (this one particularly makes me very happy). with time i shall heal and i shall keep this glorious finger.

i got flicked off

2006-11-07T21:46:00.000-06:00

for those of you concerned, i returned from pearlington mississippi alive and well a few weeks ago. we fully completed an 1100 square foot home in about 7 days. i was able to have a few discussions with a couple of pastors down there and heard the condition of their hearts and spirits. both of them where very forthcoming with me and both were tired, tired from the struggle to keep their hopes alive, tired of living in fema trailors and tired from having to be a pillar of strength for those around them. it hurt my heart.

yesterday i was genuinely flicked off for the first time in a long time. i say genuinely because i have a handful of friends who use their middle fingers as tokens of affection, much like hugs. i am a fairly gentle-natured-teddy-bear-esque-laid-back kind of person. being this type of person, my behavior doesn't typically warrant the rage of another person's middle finger. i do have to say that it caught me a bit off guard.

the incident occurred at cracker barrel of all places. this restaurant should embody a small town sense of love and community, most places with rocking chairs and porches do. the country cooking should be good for your soul, comforting you. i do not know how such an atmosphere could allow a person to leave in such an aggravated state, i really don't. perhaps this particular person had difficulty with the golf-tee pyramid intelligence test, i'll never know.

what i do know is that this person had very much difficulty removing her car from her parking space. a process that should have involved simply reversing straight back, putting the car into drive and turning left became a very complicated and intricate 17-point turn.

i was dumbfounded. this person was simply dumb. for several minutes the driver pulled forward, reversed, turned a hair, pulled forward, reversed, turned a hair and so on and so forth. the ordeal lasted long enough for my dad and i to have various conversations about the episode and for at least one of us to consider offering our own driving acumen as a solution.

after a while, it became a little comical to me. i began to chuckle a little. it became a sort of smirk.

the light dawned and the person pulled back into the spot, reversed straight back and made a simple left out of the parking lot.

as the car pulled by us, the window rolled down. at first, the person appeared to be waving at us, a sort of apology for the longevity of the driving procedure. next, it looked as though the person was moving into a sort of peace sign (i thought it quite strange that someone would flash a peace sign in this situation). finally the person extended the middle finger directly at me.

wow, i thought to myself. i've just been flicked off. it did seem a bit extreme to me. but i'm sure my laughter didn't help her have a better day. of course, i could have been laughing at any number of things outside of the terrible driving spectacle going on in front of me, say a joke or the like. thus, i determined that this middle finger was unwarranted.

this evening i began reading a book by george barna, of the barna group, entitled revolution. i'm at the half-way point and must say that i have found it quite interesting and challenging. the barna group is well known for doing research for people like disney, the us military, billy graham and various types of churches. barna is said to be the most quoted man in the church (this is odd considering Jesus and paul probably get a good bit of play. my guess is Jesus and paul get hurt by the classics 'somewhere in the new testament' and 'i think Jesus or paul said...' or that they mean extra-biblical sources. the book takes a look at the social, philosophical and theological movements within Christian culture and the church. i'd recommend it thus far.

which reminds me, i need to change the now reading books on the right of my blog. at one point i had the intentions of this up to date with what i'm reading. but it was too tedious to keep up. perhaps some day i'll be a real blogger. until that day, these random and unscheduled posts shall have to suffice. Godspeed my friends, Godspeed.

regret

2006-10-12T15:11:00.000-05:00

this morning i recieved a call regarding a boy in moldova. this was a boy i had hoped to work with very closely during my time there. over the course of my first three months, i tried to track him down to no avail. i would call and leave message after message but to no avail. i was never able to get in touch with him and after a few months i quit.

the call informed me that he has passed away. i don't know the exact details yet. i just know that it happened.

a small part of me wonders if things would have been different had i made a stronger effort to track him down, to get in touch with him, to love him better and anything else. i wonder if i messed up. i mean, i was there. i could have done more to get in touch, why didn't i try harder? those are questions i suppose i must ask myself. i know there are many people who would stop me there and comfort me, tell me it was out of my control, that i was busy enough and so on and so forth. but those words would probably not do much to ease my mind.

a while back, a guy at church i knew had an illness that required him to move south, to a warmer climate. he had poored himself into a group of my friends, something he had expressed a little anxiety or nervousness about doing. i remember telling him that i would stay in contact with him. that we would try to get down to see him. i did neither.

a few years passed and i was told that the illness that had moved him away from his home had now taken his life. the promises i hadn't kept hit me in the gut. i hadn't kept my word, i hadn't made the effort and i hated myself for it.

as i've prayed for the people in their lives, today i haven't been able to get either of these people off my mind. i have had to look at myself and wonder if i'm doing enough in my life. i have to wonder if i really care about those around me. i have to ask myself if i'd be willing to go after that kid that i want to give up on. and there are countless other questions and thoughts wrestling around, fighting each other and making my head a hostile place to be.

my heart is heavy today. the cold, damp weather has been the proper setting for that heaviness. it has sent me seeking warmth and comfort. it has made me remember just why i want to live a life free of regret. it has helped me to remember that there are people out there that just need somebody to care and that we all will be one of those people at some point.

this next week i'm going to pearlington mississippi in order to help build a home for a family which lost theirs by way of katrina. i'm sure these thoughts will stay with me as the spirit God placed in me fights to draw me closer to him as i try to draw closer to him.

but today, i'll hurt and i'll remember these two people. i'll pray that these regrets will change me, sanctify me and help me to walk the way of the cross. they'll forever stay a part of me, their faces serving as a reminder of God's call on my life, on our lives, to love each other as Christ loved us.

green spatula

2006-09-25T22:38:00.000-05:00

at this point, i'm sure most of the people who read this thing have moved on to greener pastures. i believe my parents have quit reading. in fact, mom or dad or any family member for that matter, if you are reading this, call me and say "green spatula" and nothing else- not hello and not goodbye, simply "green spatula."

this will be long. accounting makes me reflect and also makes me wordy.

tonight i began to do my final accounting for my time in moldova. it was a strange thing to do this time. every receipt reminded me of life there, of conversations, of good times of my guys. it was like getting a whiff of a smell that takes you back to a place in time you had thought you'd forgot or never could.

as i got to the last month, i couldn't help but think of the last week or two i was there on my own. it was hard. it was emotional. a large part of that was because of dima.

we spent a lot of time together those last couple weeks. we had been trying to get him to become serious about seeking a good job. several times he had been very dishonest with me and the other people trying to help him. we caught him in many of his lies and were suspicious about a few other things. it was a constant struggle to get him to be honest.

after one particularly hard day with dima, i finally made him call numbers from the want ads looking for a job. it took all day, me buying the paper, supplying the phone and sitting next to him as he made call after call, but he got a job. it's not great but it is a foot in the door and a step in the right direction.

after he started at the job we were still meeting together quite regularly. he was constantly fighting against becoming independent of our organization. as an organization, we knew he had to be. he knew he needed to be. but he kept finding excuses not to. for weeks, dima would offer up an excuse and we would get rid of it. he needed an i-d, we got it. he needed help to buy groceries, i took him to the market. everything he offered up as an excuse was removed until there was nothing left.

that was where we were when we had a long conversation about life. he had no excuses and no answers for his life. he looked at me and asked me this: 'why is my life so bad?'

i have no idea.

now, there were obvious answers that could be offered. dima, you've lied a lot to people trying to help you. dima, you've stolen from people, including 1500 dollars (in us dollars) from his aunt. dima, your work habits were awful and you didn't work at improving them even after we warned you time and time again. those were there, we talked about those.

but in the end....

i have no idea.

your circumstances suck dima. the context of your life is something i can't understand and i won't pretend that 8 months of living with you in that context has given me total enlightenment on what it must be like to be in your shoes. but in the end our circumstances don't matter.

sometime life is hard, sometimes it isn't. you were born into an impoverished nation and i was born into one with money-o-plenty. in either context, we must encounter the grace of Christ if we want life.

we have both been confronted with Christ. He has pursued as, as God does, and we both have to be true to that confrontation. we both have to look at God and answer Him honestly because we can't fake it with Him. we can try to ignore Him but it will burn within us and will eat at us and pester us and make us miserable until we recognize that we have to make up our minds: follow Him or don't follow Him.

that is why your life is bad. because you won't give Him a straight answer. you haven't given anybody a straight answer. i don't know if that is because you've been hurt in your life, or because you're scared God might reject you or leave you or die, or because you've not had anybody in your life be honest with you, or because you were dealt a lowsy hand. i have no idea why. but dima, if there is anything i'm certain of, it is that you cannot be dishonest with God and expect everything to be fine. God doesn't play that game. God demands truth.

know that dima. please. know that God wants you to be real with Him. know that God won't leave you or forsake you and that He has defeated death. know that God will allow you to be content in all circumstances. know that God heals your wounds. but please know that you will not know any of that until you man up and face God from the depth of your heart, from the gut. i'm learning that too. it isn't easy. it works against our very nature. but God makes us into new creations through Christ and his cross. He knows what you've done. it doesn't matter. He wants to love you.

i have no idea why your life is so bad. all i know is that it doesn't have to be.

and with the end of that conversation, there was little else to say. i was exhausted from 8 months of the struggle. i'd said all i could over that time. i had no words. he had none either.

the last time we spent time together was on his birthday a couple weeks later. i had told him that i would buy him some shoes for it (right after that i spent about 30 dollars getting him some stuff he needed. this lessend the amount i was able to spend on shoes). when we went to the market, i told him how much i could spend. it was an amount that could easily buy a decent pair of shoes.

he continually picked out shoes that were twice as much as the amount i had told him. he would show me a pair that were too expensive. i would show him a pair within the price range. he would pick out another, more expensive, shoe. basically he wanted nike's which were priced higher than the other shoes. after a while, he decided that no shoes would be better than free shoes. instead of walking away with a pair of shoes, he walked away with 3 lei for the marshrutka ride home.

it was saddening. it was hard not to look at that instance as a microcosm of my time with dima. after all that we had tried to do for dima, he was content to have nothing. it's like that lewis quote about being able to enjoy the beautiful beach in paradise but being content to play in the mud.

sometimes, that is ministry. you will poor yourself into somebody or something and you will feel like you haven't made a dent. it will drain you, burden you and consume you and in the end you won't see any return on the time and energy you invested. there is probably something there you don't see, a reason for it all. but you may never see it or know it. the burden may never alleviate. i can look back in my life of serving God and see total failures: Bible studies that faded away, friends that didn't come to know Christ regardless of how much i pleaded with God that they would or how much i talked to them about it, ministries that lost their way and so on and so forth. some of those still hurt. they will stick with you as the thorn in your side until you're done with this life.

other times, ministry is clean and clearly effective. the fruit is blatant and the return is fantastic. i've experienced that too and i praise God for that, for His gracious hand.

it is just not always that way. it wasn't even with Jesus in his ministry. the rich young man walked away, one of his 12 turned him in to be crucified, peter denied him after years together.

but we have to be willing to experience that. we have to be willing to have our hearts torn apart for the sake of a longshot that falls short. it requires faith to be a part of that. it teaches us that it is indeed God's grace, not ours, that the world needs. it is humbling. it is beautiful. it makes us people of depth and substance, something this world needs so very desperately.

there were definite and tangible successes in my time serving in moldova. those were beautiful too. i cling to those and am pleased by the joy in those from time to time. but today i was reminded that sometimes ministry is pouring everything into something that just falls apart, that just doesn't go how you thought it would.

i believe if you're serving and seeking God, you will "fail" at some point or many. if you don't, you are either very blessed or are only doing what is safe, not growing in faith, in the knowledge of Christ. let's not be afraid to fail, to fall short. i believe that Godly failure is full of more worth than any amount of success apart from Him. in the end it isn't failure at all, just through our worldly eyes. 'failing' is sometimes the only success. i have to believe that with dima. the question is there: will dima grab a hold of God's truth, Christ Jesus?

i have no idea.

all i know is that i've done all i can and the rest is between them. to me, that is any kind of ministry's heart. i am so grateful for my time in moldova, every aspect of it has shown me, in part, the delight of serving the Father.

watching dogs

2006-09-19T16:10:00.000-05:00

insert obligatory apology for not updating regularly here: ________

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I can get to something mindless and rambling in nature. In a handfull of days, I shall have been home for a solid month. The wistful old man in me desires to say something along the lines of "where does the time go?" but I shall refrain in the spirit of youthful rebellion.

When I first returned home, I took a week or two to rest and reacclimate to American living. It is certainly different living here. So many things are so very easy to accomplish. But we love to find ways to make things difficult, mostly on those around us. For the most part things are so good and comfortable around us. It is on the inside that our lives are in shambles or are completely uncomfortable. Sometimes that can manifest itself in our interactions with other people. We want company in our hurt or our discontent and try to pull people into it. If only more people would do that with their joy and their satisfaction.

In Moldova, I would talk to the boys about living above their circumstances. I would always stress that I did not mean financially. They lived in an impoverished country, but they did not have to feel impoverished. God has the capacity to make poor men richer than Bill Gates. We live in a wealthy country but so many of us are poor in spirit. Paul saying "I have learned to be content in all circumstances" is lost in both cultures. We look at Christ's message, that he has come so we would have life and life to the fullest, not knowing how to claim it. Poor and wealthy seem to have trouble with this.

My thoughts are becoming much clearer. That doesn't mean that I'll be able to express them any better than before. But I'm sure nobody was expecting that. It has been a good month. I've been back working for a few weeks now. It has been nice to get a paycheck again. It's been a while. I've seen a lot of my friends. I've got a lot more to catch up with though. If I haven't contacted you, I'm sorry. I do suck.

Oh yes, the title refers to the fact that I've been watching my brother's dogs while he and his wife are in California. They enjoy making me clean up their bodily functions as opposed to ridding themselves of them outside when we go for our walks. They are good listeners though, I'll give them that.

Goodbye Billy Volek.

A Shabby Metaphor Containing Chalupas

2006-08-29T19:22:00.000-05:00

I am back in America now, and have been for a couple days under a week. The sleep schedule has been pretty normal, I'm not having trouble with the time change. Flushing toilet paper is absolutely fantastic.

My stomach has been very confused by everything. It is happy that it is seeing old friends, it is just a bit overwhelming for it. Truthfully, that is probably the easiest way to explain what it has been like coming back to the states. It is very much like how adjusting to food is.

You love the food, it is what you've grown up on, it is what you've eaten all your life. But you've spent a significant hunk of time nowhere near it. There was some American food over there but it was different, not quite the same, and you didn't eat it all that much. You become accustomed to a certain pallet of tastes and certain meals. You go through a sort of physiological change to accommodate the differences. Then you take yourself out of it and are immersed into the unfamiliar world of familiar food.

It is a strange thing. As good as everything is, you have to be careful because you aren't really ready to fully engage in the partaking of such things. You make acceptions, like for chalupas, but you really have to be a little guarded.

Time is important for me. I need time to reintroduce myself to these old habits, to let my body get used to them again. That is where I am right now.

I'm a little bit of time away from enjoying the food I used to without having the weird feelings afterwards.

I've enjoyed seeing people. But I haven't consumed many of them, figuratively of course. I don't intend to sound cannibalistic about my relationships. Relationships should not be about you devouring another person. They should be about mutual snacking at first. You share a little of yourself and they do likewise. Then you digest the things they've fed you. As relationships grow, you find yourself wanting more and sometimes less. There are some relationships I could have at every meal (pizza, cereal). Some relationships, I enjoy only occasionally (sea food). Some people you have to develop a taste for (coffee) but that you become addicted to after frequent consumption. Some foods I'd like to never taste again (Baby). Some foods I rarely get to enjoy because they aren't always available (the glorious McRib) and get very excited when I can consume them. And so on and so forth.

I feel like the Bible backs me up a bit on this a bit, at least in our relationship with God. Psalms certainly does, I think in 119 something (that is a really long chapter [i think it is somewhere around 100, if not 103]) and 34.8 too. Peter does in 1Peter 2. Ezekiel ate the scroll and it tasted like honey. I'm assuming this was a new type of food for him. Jesus calls himself the bread of life in John. All I'm saying is that it is a valid metaphor, regardless of what I've titled this entry.

Wow, this has gotten away from me. My mind doesn't like to stay on board with me. It does what it wants.

What I'm saying is this: I'm still adjusting to life back in the states and I'm not really at a point where I can enjoy the company of people around me. There is just too much going on in in my head to be present. I hate not being present with people. They deserve it and I don't like when I can't stay in it.

This could have been a much shorter entry. Perhaps I should start having a plan of attack.

Actually, I am considering stopping this blog now that I am back. I've enjoyed writing it at times but have had trouble keeping at it. Many of you have come up to me and told me you have enjoyed it and I do appreciate it. I think your crazy, but I still appreciate it.

If I do continue, it will definitely take a turn. I'd probably flesh out more ideas and opinions I hold/am working through. It probably won't be focused on Moldova, although it will come up on occasion. I'll let you know what that looks like and you can keep reading if you would like to, though I wonder if it is a mentally healthy decision to do so. If I don't continue, I'll give a proper goodbye.

Either way, I'll be good for at least a couple more posts about Moldova, my time there and the decompression process. That is enough mindless dribble. Godspeed.

post script: American roads = glorious

Dance!

2006-08-17T23:30:00.000-05:00

Last night we finished just about everything I wanted to accomplish at the orphanage with the construction team we have in town. It was such a relief to have all of that finished. The team worked really hard and we got a lot accomplished in the three and a half days we worked. The last project we finished ended the construction week on a great note. We replaced the rotten floor in a play room. After the new floor was in, with no sagging spots or splinters weighting to happen, the floor administrator was just about in tears. She suggested that we could now use floor for dancing. Next week Scott and I will work on installing the fog machine, disco ball and multi-colored lazer lights - my last great calling in Moldova. When those things are in, we party. In preperation for this event, we had a dance party in CJ's van on the way home as Scott yelled out Moldovan grettings to passersby and the rest of us sang the Macarena. We like to party, we like, we like to party. Today however, we will be delivering an order of beds and mattresses to Falesti, another orphanage we work with in a more rural town.

Towards the end of yesterday, Ivan and Artur came into town. I haven't seen them in a while because they are working in a city about 100 miles away on a construction crew. At the end of the month they will come back to Chisinau to work with the same company and Ivan will go to driving school at night to become a professional driver - a taxi and eventually a Marshrukta. I look forward to the day that I am in Moldova, use a jazz hand to waive down a Marshrukta and find Ivan sitting in the driver's seat. That ride better be on the house after all the money I've loaned him.

Saying goodbye was a really encouraging thing. I talked with them a bit at the orphanage. We spoke our last words there, talking about their jobs, future plans and encouraging them to continue seeking the Lord. Afterwards we went to dinner with the team, another team and a bunch of the boys and girls from the orphanage. These nights are always very moving for the teams. Hearing the stories of the boys and girls puts what we're doing here in perspective. I see only a small part of what we're doing and have done. It is great to step back and see how God is using CERI and Sweet Sleep in Moldova. I am blessed to have been a part of it.

spam and the spirit

2006-08-16T23:29:00.000-05:00

I'm very tired, my trend of the past couple weeks. The great news is that I've had all the energy I've needed. I like how Paul says it in Colossians 1.29 "For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me." In Romans 8.11 it is put this way, "If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you." It is nice to have those promises and the assurance that God provides those who are working at serving Him with the energy they need. And it is his energy. We don't have to manufacture it. We don't have to produce it with Red Bull or coffee or the Moldovan energy drink Spam (i've not yet had this even though I love Spam). God's got it for us and He is willing to give it to us in good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, poored into our laps. All this is ours if we will only give and give more than we can.

not much time

2006-08-13T13:54:00.000-05:00

well, a team just arrived and i will be pretty busy working with them. i'm also trying to close out my time here. i've said many of my goodbyes and have a few more loose ends to tie up before i say the last.

this is a very surreal time for me. i'm not sure what to make of it or how to express the state i'm in. that is partly because i don't really understand it. i haven't had the time to sit and try to either. when i get the chance, which might not be for a week or two, i'll write some overall reflections.

it has been very challenging to keep this blog going while i've been here. i can get really busy and tired, which doesn't help me to think coherently. i hope that returning home will allow me to really take in all the things i've encountered, all the things i've been too unaware of while here. just getting seperated from something helps you to see it better.

this one time i was in a piano factory (this is probably the best story beginning i've got). i was a kid and we were taking a tour, something i was not overly excited about at that tender age. it was the mid-eighties and my father was wearing one of 12 standard issued dad uniforms for the time. he was wearing simple white sneakers, very high white socks, short shorts -which revealed much man thigh-, and a red polo shirt with horizontal white stripes.

another man on the tour was wearing the same outfit. it is important to remember that there were only 12 outfits for men of that age to wear in the 80's so it should be no surprise that they were wearing the same clothes.

as all kids do when they tire, i began to fling myself onto my dad's leg for support. this was a tactic i used much when i was tired. perhaps the frequency of my personal use of this technique caused me to become over confident and made me think i didn't even need to look up to verify the man's identity.

you see, i had flung myself onto the similarly dressed man. i did it several times. each time had the same result. i would back off a little, look up, see the man was not my dad and seperate myself from him. it felt awful, like i was cheating on my dad or something, metaphorical adultery.

but while i was connected to the man, i had no idea anything was off. it was when i made a little space that i was able to see the mistake i had made. when i was right and the man was my dad, i still had to make a little space to confirm it was him.

it's a bit of a stretch, but right now i kind of feel like i'm hugging somebody that could or could not be my dad. but i'm in too far to know who the person is and all i see is socks, short shorts and a red horizontally striped polo shirt. i'm looking forward to pushing back a little and being able to see what i've been hugging over here.

i feel like that makes no sense at all. so i'll stop writing after trying to simplify it a little. basically, my mind is everywhere but no place at all. that didn't simplify it at all, did it?

Tales of the Marshrutka

2006-08-07T13:43:00.000-05:00

As promised, I now bring you two exciting tales from the Marshrutka. For those of you not in the know, Marshrutkas are my primary means of transportation while here in Moldova. Recently the price of a ride on these bad boys went from an affordable 2 lei two an appalling 3 lei. Outrageous price increase aside, they are still my favorite chariot to ride about town.

I'll briefly try to describe these faithful steeds. They are basically vans with seating typically for 11 and a space about five feet, 10 inches high and the size of a twin size bed for standing passengers. I've seen over 30 people on these things. It isn't pretty. It also doesn't smell that great. A picture is worth about 60 words. Here you are.
One last thing and I'll start in on the Tales of the Marshrutka. Some of you know how I enjoy seeing people, especially children, fall. I'm sick. I know. Well, today I hit the jackpot.

As I was walking to the orphanage I noticed two young boys, maybe 8.5 years in age, riding one bike. This had the makings for catastrophe since their collective balance was not much better than that of a toddler. As they turned down a street, a car, yes a car was slowly rolling towards them. It stopped. They did not. In fact, they were completely out of control.

Yes, they crashed into the car. It even made the car crashing noise. They hit the front right bumper and fell to the side. I had about 2 seconds of concern until they started yelling at each other. The people just stayed in the car until the boys didn't get up for close to a minute. Then they got out and assessed the situation. The boys were fine. I was even better. I got to see two kids not only bite it, but bite it because they played a losing game of chicken with a Lada (my favorite Russian car).

Now for Tales of the Marshrutka.

The Marshrutka Tale of the Potato of Providence

It was a day like any other on the 184. I was enjoying a ride home on the marshrutka, getting close to the mustached old lady next to me. How was I supposed to know that blessings from on high were just one more stop away?

The number of passengers had dwindled down to me and my lady friend. You see, the 184 begins and ends very close to the street my place is on. As it ends its journey, the 184 rolls down a large hill. When the driver stopped to let his beloved sojourners off of that crazy ride, a beautiful potato rolled from the back of the machine towards the front.

We all paused, looking at it with eyes of wonder. I reached down and picked up this magical potato. My and the mustached old lady studied the potato. It was so beautiful. I looked her in the eye and asked her if she would like the potato. She declined. Then I looked at the driver, also sporting a flavor savor. He looked right back at me, with a soup catcher under my nose. (I am thinking about how I will change the world through the power of my mustache.)
I asked if he would like the potato. He said no as well.

I placed the potato in my bag.

When I reached home, I set the potato in front of me and pondered. What would I do with this potato? I stood up, cleaned the potato and cut it up into bite-sized pieces. I then began to make a soup. I added the potato, or cartofi for my peeps in Moldova. After the proper amount of cooking, I ate the soup with the potato and it was nothing less than delicious.

The moral of this tale of the marshrutka: my life is sad.

The Marshrutka Tale of the Understanding and Sensitive Marshrutka Passenger

Marshrutka drivers are not necessarily known for their benevolence. It is understandable. They don't make a whole lot of money - that is until they started charging 3 lei - so I can sympathize with their financial stinginess.

I encountered such a man on the 180. I had just climbed the hill up to Doina Street to ride into town. It was hot. I was tired. The marshrutka approached and I used a classic jazz hand to flag him down. Once on board, I was surprised to find that I was the only passenger on board.

I handed him my money and sat behind him. Then he got cut off really badly. A guy turned into the street on our right and just stopped in front of him. There was nowhere we could go.

Needless to say, this made the driver quite angry. At this point, I must bring up the fact that my Romanian is terrible, absolutely terrible, surprisingly and shamefully terrible. I know enough to get by and I can understand it a little when it is being spoken slowly and I know the basic topic of conversation.

I have never heard a person talk so rapidly or with such pure rage. I didn't know what to do. He was yelling these things to me. There was nobody else to talk to. So I employed to simple phrases. The first was "I know" and the second was "I understand."

I simply kept repeating these two things. "I know. I know. I understand. I know." shaking my head which implied that the other driver was an idiot. After a few minutes, the car left and the marshrutka driver's rage went with it. He was still complaining, but was much calmer. I offered two last and comforting 'I know's and then something completely unexpected happened. The driver said "Thank you."

Even more unexpected was what he did next. He turned around and gave me my two lei payment. This ride was on the house. I couldn’t believe it. From then on, we were brothers.

A little later, he picked up a few more passengers, then a few more and a few more until the beast was full. But no matter how full that marshrutka got that day or any day after, it will never be as full as the brotherly love we shared on that gorgeous Moldovan afternoon.

Moral of this tale of the Marshrutka: do what you can with what you got.

This concludes Tales of the Marshrutka. God bless us, everyone.

Enjoy

2006-07-29T14:24:00.000-05:00

Anticipating this to be a longer than average post, I have developed a brilliant system or organization to allow you, the reader, to read at both your own pace and leisure. It took weeks to figure out this method. In fact, figuring out how to better organize my disjunctive thoughts is, in part, what has prevented me from updating this in such a long time. I shall divide my thoughts using a complex system of numbers which will indicate when I'll be discussing a new thought thus allowing you, the reader, to read one section at a time (if you so desire, feel free to read the entire post or more than one section. The world is your oyster.). Thank yous are not necessary.

I have been a poor blogger as of late. It is not the first time, nor is it likely to be the last. I will attempt to do better. Well then, enough of this vapid introduction, I shall move on to beguiling you with this new science of order.

1. (note that i've made the numbers bold) What have I been doing?Well, I've been doing several things lately. I am still working on furniture at the orphanage. We are currently helping Dima, Ivan and Artur find jobs (i'll try to devote more time to this later) so I am working with a new group of boys. This work has gone very smoothly and should be over in the next week or two. Putting this furniture together has consumed a great deal of time. I'll be happy to see it completed.

Helping Dima, Ivan and Artur find jobs has been really difficult. It took a while for a couple of them to realize that they do, in fact, need jobs to survive. They all have jobs now and I have been meeting with them periodically to see how they're going. I actually just got off the phone with Dima a little while ago and he told me that he likes his new job. Hopefully this one will stick. He told me it is one where he could be around a while and move up the ladder. Artur has been doing construction, as was Ivan. But it looks like Ivan will be going to driving school as opposed to sticking with construction work. After one week of working a typical Moldovan construction job he told me he wanted to drive a taxi.

Victor, Vitalle and Ruslan have worked quite well. I've enjoyed getting to work closer with these boys. I've had relationships with them but I didn't get to spend as much time with them as I am now. In a really rare move, these boys approached Jamey at camp one night after a day of work. They asked him to find out how they were doing at the job but they didn't want him to ask me directly. They wanted him to work into one of our conversations casually because they wanted to make sure they were working hard enough. What a great encouragement that was. It isn't often that these older boys from the orphanage take this kind of initiative. That is my nine to five situation.

2. I also have spent some time at the orphanage with Dorel and Raia looking at some of the needs the orphanage has in terms of property up-keep. As you can imagine, there was quite a bit of work that needs to be done. But, with the unstable state of Moldova's orphan-care policies, it is hard to determine what to do knowing that the orphanage system has the possibility of being abolished (that is something I haven't written about much, if you are more curious, let me know). There are some things that could be done now. I'll give you a short list.

In the dorms at the orphanage, the vinyl flooring is flaking off and in desperate need of replacing. They already have the material for a few rooms but there are probably close to 100 rooms that need the floors replaced. I remember being in the orphanage one day and watching a little girl as she was sweeping up the floor, literally. It was one of those images that sticks with you for some reason.
There are several doors that need replaced. When, I say Sneed please remember that I mean "need" and don't mean "would be nice to improve" like that space above the garage (not that there is anything wrong with improving your home [some times]).
Some of the walls need new wall paper. The old paper is peeling off and falling down.Most of the bed rooms have no curtains or blinds.
There are many windows that need replacing. Some of them are broken, exposing sharp edges and providing no insulation, which proves troublesome during Moldova's cold winters.
The roof to the cafeteria is leaking, needs patching and also a new coat of tar.
More general upkeep.

As you can see, there is plenty to do. They don't have the resources to do these themselves and get little assistance from the government on many of these things (especially with the aforementioned possible move away from an orphanage system). These things will soon be harder to fix because school starts in about a month. There is a construction team coming in the next few weeks that may be able to work on some of these things (we're still working out those details). I would love to see these things get taken care of some how. Hopefully I'll get to be a part of that.

3. I've been sick the last few days. Mainly, my throat and head have been bothering me. It seems as though I'm on the upswing though. Having throat/cold issues is not that great. Though it is true that my voice gets deeper sometimes. I like when this happens because it makes me feel manlier than I already am (yes ladies, that is possible). However, sometimes it just makes my voice sound more nasally. I don't like when this happens because it makes me sound like more of a dork than I already am (yes ladies, that is possible). Any who, I guess I rather not be sick, barry white voice heat not withstanding.

4. Wednesday, at 5:45 in the a.m. Jamey and I took Matthew and Dane to the airport as they began their journey to America (I like to say America in these types of circumstances with a sort of italian-immagrant-like accent. It makes it seem more magical.) I will miss their company. Matthew will be attending graduate school at UNC in hopes to create even smaller mp3 players and x-ray machines while Dane will be traveling to Iowa, the land of farmers' daughters (to steal a line from Zack Morris), to begin an exciting undergraduate career at Cornell.

It was a strange thing to say goodbye to both of them. They are both, in their own right, outstanding individuals and I have learned from both of them. Playing spades without them will be next to impossible, until the robots are completed that is. Though I fear that no robot or combination of robots will be able to capture the light in their collective eyes. Godspeed friends. We'll cross paths again.

5. On a similar note, I will be moving back to America on August 23rd. I think some of you already know this. For those of you who haven't heard, I'm coming home on August the 23rd. It is a few months earlier than planned. Why would be explained easiest in person but I can give the following as a brief explanation. After several weeks of prayer and seeking consultation from the Word and close friends and mentors, it became clear that the purpose God has called me here for is close to being at an end.

This is a strange thing to say because, in truth, I don't really know why He brought me here. I could look back and come up with things that God accomplished and taught me while here and say that those were the reasons, but I'm not going to do that. Many of the things He is doing, we don't see. I'm sure that there are things invisible that God does right in front of our eyes. God knows why I came here. There are tangible things, yes. But sometimes I think the stuff we can't see is probably the most beautiful. To a degree, that is grace: seeing the invisible.

All that to say, I came over with the peace of knowing He wanted me to and I feel like I'll leave with the peace of knowing He wanted me to. In time God will, like He already is, show me why.

6. Jen Gash, by way of Joe Swing, brought the following to my attention: http://www.cnn.com/2006/HEALTH/07/27/happy.world.reut/index.html
Here is a look at the complete list: http://www.le.ac.uk/pc/aw57/world/sample.html

As you can see, Moldova didn't do so well. We were 175 out of the 178 countries. In spite of the fact that this science has proven this place to be dissapressing (oh yeah!), I must say that I am still quite happy. The collective Denmark ain't got nothing on me.

In related news, I've decided that over the course of the next few years I shall live and missioneer (a word for what missionaries do) in countries 176-178, Congo Democratic, Zimbabwe and Burundi respectively, thus proving myself to be the most hardcore mission person ever. Take that Lottie Moon!

To clarify, I am joking. I don't typically make my decisions based on such criteria. My life choices are made using several 9-sided dice and very complicated algorithmic equations.

7. Now, I shall rest. Remember, I am still somewhat sick and need to sleep. Per the request of some folks here in Moldova I shall, in the near future, tell two tales of the Marshrutka: The Marshrutka Tale of the Potato of Providence & The Tale of the Understanding and Sensitive Marshrutka Passenger. Until that time, sera buna.

[On a personal note, I must say that if you have made it this far, I love you. Seriously I mean that. You've always been a good friend, anonymous reader. You're true blue. I appreciate you.]

clarification

2006-07-08T14:04:00.000-05:00

i am not a vegan. i made an ill attempt at humor which was evidently taken seriously. i love to eat animal and things from animals, such as cheese. also, soy products i've tasted, especially soy ice cream, are unpleasing to my sensitive and sophisticated pallet.

taco bell is tasty and a friend to all diets.

scrappy-the dog formerly known as vodka- has returned home . he was gone for about a month and randomly returned one day a couple of weeks ago. to my knowledge, he was never a sandwich, sandwhich, or sand witch (i think several spellings are used. i'm not sure which one is correct but i do love the imagery of a dog-witch who dwells in some type of desert or beach or box [that is, a box with sand].)

i am leaving the beard off of my face thus exposing my collection of chins. for a brief spell -roughly 4 minutes- i was the ashamed, as opposed to proud, possesor of a mustache (please pronounce with syllable emphasis on the latter half of the word with a sort of smug tone). i took pictures and may get around to posting them some time, if i can live with the shame.