Christmas

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

yurt wanted

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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