the good life

mimo provoz

2007-04-26T23:21:00.000-04:00

means "out of order" in Czech. When a "mimo provoz" sign is hung on something, the phrase can also have the secondary meaning of "opening soon," though for some reason they choose to focus on the negative. They don't say that it will reopen soon; they just say "out of order." Broken. Kaput.

I think the mimo provoz sign has been up long enough. Sorry for that false start - the blog just won't die completely. This is more of a test, really. For me. I wonder if something was lost when I stopped writing. We'll see.

clippers

2006-12-06T00:14:00.000-05:00

I don't know why, but I consistently lose my fingernail clippers. Sometimes they are gone for good, but sometimes I find them again, though that is pretty rare. Just now as I was brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed, I was thinking about how I needed to post on my blog. Then I noticed that I need to cut my fingernails. This was quickly followed by sadness, because I remembered that I just lost the last fingernail clippers I bought. But then the thought occurred to me that I had just found them again! But two seconds later I realized that I had in fact dreamt that. In my dream, I found my clippers - all of them. How there were so many pairs of fingernail clippers from so many years all in one place in my room (where I have lived barely over a year) is a question I didn't think to ask in my dream. I was just happy to have them all home again. It was a lot like the way I'm sure my mom feels when her children come home to visit over the holidays.

Anyway, I think I had that bizarre dream because my brain is starting to short out under the pressure of projects and papers and tests. I wish I had something more substantial to write about, but at least I'll feel good about having posted... Next week, next week, and it will all be over. I hope I can find some clippers before then, though, because this is really irritating.

anniversary

2006-11-15T01:13:00.000-05:00

Well, It's been a long time. I'm not sure who might be reading at this point, but given that it's almost exactly a year since I started blogging, it seems like a good time to start again. This blog has been pretty neglected, and I've been missing it. It's kind of like an old friend, much like anyone who ever reads or says hello.

So, with the best of intentions, here we go.

stocks and bonds

2006-06-03T15:32:00.000-04:00

People tell me to invest. They say things like, “If I had started putting away a few hundred a month at your age, I’d be a millionaire by now.” If only they’d invested, they’d have so much more now, and that’s the point – people who invest do so in order to have more than they already have. It’s a strategy to have better return for your money, higher profit, more capital, bigger, better, faster… It’s denying yourself something now so that you’ll have more later. That makes sense. If you want more badly enough, you’ll wait to get it. We don’t mind delaying gratification, just as long as it gives us more gratification.

Studying is an investment, often paying off in good grades and career opportunities. Buying a house can be a good investment, paying off as the property appreciates, and there are lots of other boring examples. I’d have to say, though, that of all the returns I’ve ever gotten from my investments, the only ones I really remember or hold on to are those that have to do with friends and people close to me – the things we’ve done together, places we’ve been, things we’ve talked and laughed about. I don’t remember what I did with the savings bonds I cashed in when I was 11, and I’m sure I have nothing substantial to show for it at this point, but that same year I moved to a new town and made some new friends that are still some of my closest.

I was thinking about all the resources I have, and I think time is the most valuable (and possibly the only truly un-renewable) resource we have. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, and I’m sure there are many who would give all they have just for some more time. It’s one of the easiest things to waste, but also one of the most precious gifts you can give. The word on the street is that at the end of your life, all you’ve got is your relationships. If that’s true, then the best possible investment of resources (and hence time, the most valuable resource) is in people. There isn’t usually much material profit to be gained from investing time in people, but investing like that can have greater returns than anyone can imagine.

People invested time in me, with no real promise of return, and no evidence that their investment wasn’t just a waste. But I am who I am today because of them, and I think a lot better than I would have been otherwise. In some sense, they invested in me for my benefit, not their own. The result of their investment was that I profited. Some of the most influential people in my life, who took time for me, giving me of their most valuable resource, still have no idea how great the return was. And I suppose that every year I live longer, the return will, by God’s grace, only grow.

For many investors, I’d imagine, the only thing worse than having an investment fail is having an investment succeed wonderfully, and yet never receive a penny of the profit. It’s strange that this is what investing in other people is like, and I’d argue that investing in people is the greatest investment possible. Maybe that’s an upside-down way to look at the best of all our resources, but it’s made the difference for me.

many thanks

2006-05-23T00:17:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to thank everyone for the birthday wishes. Sometimes belated wishes are even better, not because people either forget you on your birthday or don't even know it is your birthday, but because the happiness and cheer get stretched out over a much longer period. After all, birthdays are really more about friends and family, and less about the anniversary of one's own birth, which one has absolutely no recollection of and often simply has to take on faith that it even happened at all. Instead of looking in the mirror and cursing time and the aging process, maybe I can start marveling at how my very existence is proof of something that can't really be proved any other way.

So official blog thanks to Dad, Marty, Danishmand, Will, Sad, Jonathan, and anyone else I might have missed.

Hm. Danishmand - Yes, I've been told that I'm a Taurus. I always liked that constellation, mostly because the Pleiades are in it, but I have to confess that I don't pay any attention to the zodiac or horoscopes (except in some Chinese restaurants on the placemats - I'm a monkey by that calendar, and not so thrilled that it tells me I'm easily frustrated and confused) . You got me thinking now... Not that I think that everything is fate or luck, either - I'd have to agree with the Hermit from The Horse and His Boy :

"I say!" said Aravis. "I have had luck."

"Daughter," said the Hermit, "I have now lived a hundred and nine winters in this world and have never yet met any such thing as Luck. There is something about all this that I do not understand: but if ever we need to know it, you may be sure that we shall."

In a strange paradox, I believe that though there's a rhyme and reason to life, though there are many things that are meaningless also. The world doesn't work like it should; to most, the most glaring evidence of this is any of the countless examples of bad things happening to good people, or of terrible people prospering. But when it comes to people, to individual hearts and minds, and the questions, fears and hopes that fill them, there is something constant. There is a thread that runs through every life, almost always invisible, except for those rare times you experience something astonishing, terrible or wonderful, that inexplicably demands your attention and yet allows you dismiss it if you wish.

I'm not very old, wise or experienced. In the short life I've had, though I've barely scratched the surface of what is beneath (and above and all around), but I've started to think that luck and coincidence are cop-out answers.

Chances are that I'm preaching, as they say, to the choir. I still don't understand most of what happens, but I've seen enough movement of God's hand to know that there is reason, a plan, a Mind, a Heart, that underlies all of the shallow, day-to-day meaninglessness in our frail lives. I'm slowly learning to go right to the source, and tell Him what I think of it all, and learning to understand how He works, and what He sounds like when He speaks through His word, or through friends of mine, or directly to me.

Sometimes I think it's a mercy that I don't know the future, as much as I'd like to. I spend enough time already thinking about it, and sometimes I'm not even able to get free from what's behind me. But if the same thread that's been weaving through me up until now continues on forever, I'll be happy with that. I'm looking forward to a time when there will be no unanswered questions, or maybe even better - a time and place when my questions will just completely dissolve, and peace will finally have crowded out the lies and noise for good.

A man's steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?
Proverbs 20:24

Well, I don't understand my own way, or even how my own mind and heart work. But there are a few things I know for sure, and for those I'm thankful.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:11-13

notes from a surrogate thinker

2006-05-22T22:19:00.000-04:00

note: An Enlightened Fellow has provided this latest blog entry. My thanks to him for his aid during this blog drought. The term "Lord Chancellor" refers to me, in case anybody was wondering, and is an old title from the high school days when we had time to do fun things, like start societies in which everyone needed a title. In those days the Enlightened Fellow carried the distinguished title of Prime Minister.

Ripples in a Pond

Because the Lord Chancellor has neglected his writing duties in regards to this blog, I, An Enlightened Fellow, have been contracted (without pay) by my own person to write this post in his stead. I have been instructed by the Lord Chancellor to avoid the use of too much redundant verbosity, although he will allow me to use some small amount. I was also instructed to submit something in the spirit of his blog, so that, as he put it, it would not be like printing a comparison of late model mid-size sedans in a copy of Horse and Hound. Given that I am writing this in my physical therapy administration class, I imagine that it will probably remain a fairly short post, but should not lack for thoughtfulness or attentiveness to detail.

My chosen topic is that of thoughts and their general tendency to move through the world much like ripples in a pond, except that the pond is not made of water, but of brain matter. An example could be made of Einstein's theories of relativity. The thought that time does not flow at a constant rate throughout the universe was one that started in the brain matter of Einstein and over the past century has rippled throughout the world in the minds of, first, scientists, then gradually made its way into the thoughts of the general public (though it is hardly an idea that ripples strongly in most minds today).

What is amazing about the current era is that the tools that allow these thoughts to ripple have become so advanced that instead of taking months to ripple around the world, they can be rippled in seconds with the click of a button.

On that note, I will click a few buttons, send this off to our delinquent Lord Chancellor, and allow him to click a few more, which will bring this thought to you.

Thanks to Martin also for the photo.

living it up

2006-05-03T23:45:00.000-04:00

What I did on my birthday yesterday: Took a couple final exams, taught a class in the evening, went for a bike ride and got filthy, hit a tree very ungracefully (I have this theory that if I have no currently healing injuries or wounds on my body, it means I'm not being active enough), and spent sunset on the beach. Right as the sun was going down, fog rolled in from the lake (Lake Michigan) and covered the town. Fog makes things quieter, like snow. On the way home I thought I would celebrate by getting a speeding ticket. At least he lowered the fine to $100. Maybe that was his way of congratulating me on the big day, I don't know, but I'm happy to report that it would take a whole lot more than that to ruin my day.

May 3 has come and gone. I didn't get to do everything I told myself I would do, but I got some of it - No hammock, but we had a good game of frisbee and I just finished eating almost a whole pineapple. I had some fantastic bread (Courtesy of my neighbor Angela's mom and The Grain Bin in Lincoln, NE), breathed deeply, ate some fresh vegetables and drank lots of water. The only thing missing was the hammock, book (The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell) and the orange juice. Maybe tomorrow. Man, these are good days.

"Those who know your name will trust in you,

For you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you."

Psalm 9:10

amen

2006-04-25T22:13:00.000-04:00

From my place, if you drive north about 20 minutes, you find yourself in the city with Michigan's highest crime rate per capita. This last Saturday, we spent the afternoon in some of the rough neighborhoods going door-to-door handing out free books and just meeting the people that live there. Some people didn't really want to have anything to do with me, but most of them were really great. I got to spend some time on the porch with a family talking about life and local happenings,...

One house had a fence around it (like lots of them), so I opened the gate, went up to the front door, left a book, and walked back to the street. The second I stepped through the gate, the biggest doberman I've ever seen came tearing around the corner of the house. I've never seen the Devil, but I think he and this doberman must be friends.

Hm. I was looking for a picture of a mean dog to put here, and I found the one on the left. The dog I met was a lot more like the one on the right, except scarier. The website where I found the one on the left said the little dog's name is Boo-Boo. Anyway.

I started wondering how you would get out of a place like that if you wanted to (the city, not the yard with the dog). It's too bad that most of the people are stuck there. In St. Louis this last summer I was talking to some guys who were cleaning tables, and they asked me where I was from. I said I was from Tennessee, and asked them how they liked St. Louis. "We hate it - take us with you!" I wish I could have. I just heard about a documentary where an organization got some teens from the inner city and took them to Africa, into the bush. It was rough for them, but by the end, several were crying at the thought of going back.

Helplessness is one of the worst feelings. I see things that need to be done, people that need to be helped, but what can you do? Even if there is more than enough food in the world to end starvation (like I've heard so many times), it is so frustrating when all you can do is make a little dent in the problem, while the majority remains unsolved, simply getting worse. I know it makes a difference for whoever you meet. If you can't take people out of bad situations, then I suppose you can at least take some good to them. That sounds so cute and cliche. Ah well. As cliche as it might be, some people are actually doing it - I saw this sign in the middle of the place, and I think the preacher man's doing his part to make the world a better place...

drifting on course

2006-04-20T23:22:00.000-04:00

There have been a lot of things lately that have taken the wind out of my sails, so to speak. I've found that I'm about as good at failure as I ever was at success. I wonder if it would be bad to get too used to either, but in the last little while I've been tempted to get used to failure. I think the moment I did that, though, I'd just have to quit the whole thing, and I'm not interested in that.

I think I've accumulated an all-time high of tasks, responsibilities, and unanswered questions (maybe unanswerable, some of them). There have been people that make me want to be anonymous and events that make me wish I was new in town. My car is on empty. I put my last $5 in yesterday, and it didn't even bring the needle above the E. I've been living off my roommate's stash of peanut-butter crackers and a giant case of chips and big jug of salsa I got at Sam's a few weeks ago. Oh, and I also got a case of green beans. That was supper last night. Today's lunch: a can of corn.

On May 3, things are going to be different. I'm going to get up early, go outside and breathe deeply. I'm going to go for a hike, eat a ton of fresh vegetables, some really good bread, and maybe even a fresh pineapple. I'm going to try to find someone to play frisbee with or kick a soccer ball around with, and I'm going to drink my fill of the finest spring water and fresh-squeezed orange juice. After lunch I'll string up my hammock and read a book in the shade. And after my nap, the day will just get better and better.

Just thought I'd let you know.

great

2006-04-10T22:56:00.000-04:00

What a beautiful day! I spent most of the day outside. Studied in the orchard on the University farm for a while, went for a walk, fell asleep studying in the backyard. Spent a productive evening in the library, did some research and some assignments, and best of all, now I'm about to go to bed, and I feel fine. Fantastic, to be honest. The food I ate today was magnificent, and I drank a lot of water. The sun was out and it was warm and breezy. I found out that to replace all the belts in my car will cost $791. Not so warm and breezy. But I'm not about to let that spoil everything else.

Wow, I was surprised to see some new commenters. If you're reading this, but not commenting, just know that I don't think of you as a "lurker." Never really liked that word. Too negative. But not like I think that we should get rid of all things that have negative connotations. Some people think teachers shouldn't grade papers with red ink. Too bloody or condemning. They should instead use a less aggressive color, like green. I think that is a good example of what is wrong with society (not that teachers use red ink, but that people have a problem with it)... Do we really care more about colors than grades? If colors are so expressive, then maybe we should quit giving grades and just put a sticker of a happy color if you did well, or one of a disappointing color if you failed.

At any rate, here's somethingI've been thinking about:

People are usually remembered for the great things they have done, accomplishments or things of consequence, whether for good or for bad. If you say the name Eli Whitney, if people have heard it at all, they stand a good chance of knowing that he invented the Cotton Gin (not as many know that he also repaired violins). Or some easier ones - Abraham Lincoln, Ghandi, Napoleon, Fidel Castro (no particular order, rhyme or reason to that list). Not that everyone on that list is all that great, but they are well known.

People are not only remembered for their large accomplishments or for extraordinary circumstances, but they are often defined by them. When you meet someone, you are told "This is so-and-so. He did this and that, and was in this place when this thing happened. You know that other monumental event that happened that one time? He did all of that." Or you get something like: "She's a world-class whatever and can do all these incredible things better than anyone else. You need that thing done, you call her. She's the brains behind us all." Or if they're really important, you'll be told only one thing, as if that says it all and no further explanation is necessary. "This is What's-his-face, the whatever. Their emphasis on that one defining characteristic or position or accomplishment says it all: They are somebody because of it. And unless you can top it, you are not somebody. You might even be nobody, but the line between the "not somebodys" and the "nobodys" is so blurred, they might as well be one group.

Is this the only criteria we have for finding some kind of definition? Perhaps it's one of the only criteria we use... Some would say that people are defined ultimately through relationships. I am the son of my father and mother. I am Janelle's brother. Some would say that people shouldn't be defined, because it is some kind of unfair or constricting categorization. I'm not sure. It's been said that heroes are ordinary people just caught in extraordinary circumstances, but what about all the ordinary people who fail at the last minute, who just can't cut it? How are they defined? Are they nothing more than a failure? But whether or not people are remembered for the great things they have done or not done, I don't think that is really indicative of true greatness, which is easily confused with fame. Maybe great accomplishments are an outward symptom or an occasional flare-up of an underlying greatness, which is really more of a grassroots operation. True greatness must be largely an underground movement.

Well, this is kind of an unfinished thought, but what do you think?

I'm off to bed.

just deserts

2006-04-03T19:35:00.000-04:00

I logged in to Blogger and saw that this blog has 49 posts. That surprised me - not because I didn't think it would last this long, but more because I didn't think I had posted that many times.

It's a strange animal. It doesn't have a schedule, but just a sense that it is either alive or dead. My friend Greg has a blog that he hasn't posted on in over 2 years. I don't check it ever, because it has nothing for me. I've been there, and I've done that. I don't open books on my shelf just to see if there's a new chapter. They're dead in that sense. I've read them and know them, and will maybe read them again when my memories of them have grown cold.

Sometimes it's a bit of a temptation to stop writing here. The schedule is pretty full, and I don't always find the time. And it's kind of strange that I feel bad when I don't write, like the 5 people that read my blog and comment (and the other 5 who read and don't comment - you know who you are... ) are somehow let down when I don't comment. Is that a stupid thought? Perhaps a little too self-centered? Then again, I don't have much time to write aside from when I put things on here. If it weren't for what's already written here plus my inbox and outbox, there wouldn't be much of a record of this year. Besides, there's a part of me that does it for the comments. The things other people say are so much more interesting than anything I can come up with.

Anyway. That's enough of that.

Kristina asked what my favorite part of the trip was. I don't know that I could really pin down a best experience. There were lots of fun ones, though. One one level, one of the most unusual parts of the trip was the feeling I got in that split second when I realized I was washing my hands with Evian. Another fun part was when I went to an Antikvariat (old book store) and leafed through a 460-year-old commentary written by Erasmus. It was only $400 ("only!" the voice of reason screams at me) and very, very tempting. Maybe if I sell my bass amp. (Note - anyone interested in an SWR 2x10, let me know!)

I just finished reading Complications by Atul Gawande. Good book, even if you're squeamish. I recommend it. It might be one of the only books I've read purely for pleasure in the last year or two. Is that sad?

I'm not sure who is reading this at the moment, but I hope you have a blessed and peaceful week. You don't deserve it, but neither do I, and I like getting what I don't deserve...

"You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Romans 5:6-8

Don't worry, Marty, more coming soon.

get some help

2006-03-23T19:29:00.000-05:00

Someone once said that no man is an island. I don't think that's true. I've known some that were truly islands, and they were miserable. I used to think it was arrogant to refuse help and just try to do things on your own, but now I think it's just sad. Why would anyone prefer to be alone?

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor.
For if either of them falls, one will lift up his companion.

But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up!
Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart."

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

prague blague

2006-03-23T00:13:00.000-05:00

This is what the castle looks like when you stare into the sun. I don't recommend it. Wait until later when you won't be blinded.

This church, along with the castle, is what I would imagine are the two most photographed things in Prauge.

This blind man stands in the same place he stood four years ago when I was here. I'm not sure, but I would imagine that he makes more money than most people might think. Today was the first day this week I saw him, and I was glad. Seeing him standing there was comforting, in a way. He just keeps singing as the crowds walk by on one of the busiest sidewalks in the area. What he is doing is kind of strange - he's playing for money, sure, but he's trying to make some kind of contact with people hurrying by. Everyone is in a hurry here, unless they have no direction, job, or home. They don't make eye contact on the street or in the Metro, and everyone else may as well not exist. Then you have this guy, playing slowly, steadily, waiting for someone to stop ignoring and listen. Most of them ignore him, but every once in a while someone drops a coin in his box. He says "thank you" every time, even if he's in the middle of a song.

One last one - this tactic is used by quite a few beggars in Prague. Sometimes they kneel with their hands outstretched, but usually they just put their face down like this. Some kneel on cushions, and stay in the same position for hours. I don't know how much they make - not as much as the guy playing the accordion and singing. I saw the lady with the stroller coming a ways down the street and waited until she got to him. I wanted to see what she would do, and wasn't surprised when she ignored him. Her friend noticed me, though. The only one that looked at the beggar was the baby. I wonder how long before she'll start pretending not to notice the beggar too. I guess she's too young to know better. They'll teach her as soon as she's old enough, I'm sure.

2006-03-22T18:00:00.000-05:00

I tried to comment in reply to Kristina and Sad, but Blogger's server is having a problem. I wonder if they run on the same servers as Gmail, which was also having a problem just now. But in response to Kristina - I was going through Amsterdam on my way to Prague for spring break. I'll be here until Monday, when I'll head back home to resume my projects and research and who knows what else...

Well, there's not a lot to say these days. I've been keeping busy, spending time with new and old friends. I was hoping to meet with some of the students I taught when I was here four years ago, but it looks like I'll only get to see a couple of them at most. Just a thought, for those of you like myself that have a hard time thinking of things to give people - license plates make good gifts for people who don't live in America. At least I think so - I love them. I've tried to get a licence plate from every place I've been, but so far I've only got one each from Madagascar and South Africa. Hopefully I can get one from the Czech Republic while I'm here.

I'll try to put some pictures up soon - Blogger is out of commission at the moment.

i wash my hands with evian

2006-03-17T10:22:00.000-05:00

A lot of large airports are the same in many ways – signs, atmosphere, whatever. If you can find a bathroom in one airport, you can find one in any airport, except of course the Amsterdam airport. I walked the length of an entire wing of the airport with no restroom, and finally found one near the center of the main lounge area. (And yes, whoever it was that was asking me, the toilets here do have a picture of a fly in them. And no, I don’t know why)

On the way here, from Detroit to Amsterdam, I sat next to an elderly man from Delhi. We couldn’t really communicate other than the few English words I heard him say – no, bathroom, coffee, thank you, and goodbye. I wish I could have talked to him, asked him all kinds of things. I wondered what I could learn from him, what he’s learned about life and what’s important, what he would do over, and what he might do differently. Does he have regrets? What are the best things that ever happened to him? Has he had a hard life? How has he seen the world change? How does he think it should change?

There are some unexpected blessings on flights. My seatmate got a special meal, and I didn’t feel like reminding the flight attendant that I had ordered a vegetarian meal, but I was really tempted when I saw that he got rice and channah masala. Since when do they serve that on planes? I wondered if he had told them he was from India, and they gave him the special treatment. Anyway, I resigned myself to pick through the pork or whatever they brought me, hoping that there might be at least a hint of vegetables. When they served the meal to the rest of the plane, there were two choices: chicken or vegetable curry, which turned out to be the same as my friend had. Perfect. I think it was the best food I’ve ever had on an airplane.

I was pretty disappointed to see that Sbarro wasn’t open yet, though it was 6:00 in the morning. They eventually did open, but didn’t have spaghetti, which I was craving. I settled for something better (for me), though, and bought an orange, some water, and some nuts from the duty-free shop. I think it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever purchased a duty-free orange. I also think that’s the most I’ve ever paid for a bottle of water. Something is wrong with a place where water costs more than beer.

There was nobody at the gate, which was at the end of a long wing (with no bathroom), so I turned back and started looking for a place to eat breakfast. All the gates were behind glass, and none of the doors were open, and there were no seats in the hall. Who designed this place? I finally found a hidden spot, apparently undiscovered. It was a quiet corner, with about 30 seats, all empty. I ate my day-old Burger King sandwich and my duty-free orange in peace. About halfway through my bag of pistachios, a commotion arose behind me, and I turned to see an Indian family heading my way. There were about 35 of them. I found out they were from DC, of all places (why was I surprised? Do I think America is monochromatic?), and coming back from India, where they had gone for the Holi festival. Their faces, hands and arms were all stained with lots of different colors.

It was a good orange, but messy. Seeing as how there was no bathroom around, I rinsed off my hands over a trash can with my bottled water. As I was doing that, it struck me as funny that I was washing my hands with Evian, the poster child for expensive bottled water, the choice of discerning snobs everywhere. Did I have it that good? Was I living that large, so I can now afford to use French mineral water for washing up?

I have a good life (not perfect, but good), but not because I wash with expensive bottled water (that was only because the duty-free industry sees fit only to bring us the best products, at competitive [with who?] prices.). I’m so grateful that God has been reminding me how good I have it.

The things that make my life good are free and available to everyone, with no barriers and no limits. They aren’t material, and can’t be taken from me. I heard someone once say that God is a hedonist. I don’t think He is in the same sense we use the word, but He really loves to keep His children well-stocked, full of peace and contentment.

I can barely stay awake. I didn’t sleep on the flight last night. Maybe I’ll go splash some Evian on my face. I can afford it - I’m loaded.

"You make known to me the path of life;

In Your presence there is fullness of joy;

In Your right hand there are pleasures forever."

Psalm 116:11

finally smiling

2006-03-08T23:17:00.000-05:00

This is a picture of my friend's son in Madagascar, taken on one of the last days I was there this last summer. He was one of the shyest kids - for almost three weeks I couldn't get a smile out of him, and then at the end, he finally gave in... After he cracked this smile, he cut loose. He laughed and talked and ran circles around us, jumping up and down, so full of life.

Lately I've been too intense, I think. I've had to concentrate and focus so much that I haven't even gone for a walk in almost a month. It's been all work and not much play. The times I could play, I just kind of crash. My body rebels, and I fall asleep. I think it's time for me to crack - to run around in circles laughing and jumping up and down. It's raining out; maybe I can go find some puddles...

soon I'll be singing this song...

2006-03-07T22:57:00.000-05:00

Less Like Scars
(Sara Groves)

It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's...

Less like tearing more like building
Less like captive more like willing
Less like breakdown more like surrender
Less like haunting more like remember

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
look less like scars and more like character

Less like a prison a prison more like my room
Less like a casket more like a womb
Less like dying more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
look less like scars

Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out
Hoping you would come

And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
look less like scars

And more like character

"Peace, peace, to those far and near," says the Lord. "And I will heal them."
Isaiah 57:19

the road to fame

2006-03-06T23:05:00.000-05:00

I mentioned a couple posts ago that you might be able to find Arwyn's picture on Flook's site. Well, here it is. She is posing with Ed Boyd, the guitar player.

What does it say that I've been playing music for a while, and my niece, who is less than 3 years old, has achieved more acclaim in the music world than I have? Hm. At any rate, I just thought I would pass that link along for any of you that might be interested.

- - -

In other random news, I found out today that there is a giant 40 ft. statue of Optimus Prime in Yunnan, China. How I found this, I'm not quite sure. But one of my friends used to have an inflatable punching bag of Optimus Prime in his shower. Every day they would fight while he got ready for class. He was usually late, but always victorious.

Please note: This is in reference to the original Transformer, not the National Guardsman who legally changed his name to Optimus Prime. There is no statue of him in China.

If he really wanted to be famous, he should have changed his name to Arwyn. There is no statue of Arwyn, but she isn't even 3 yet. Give her time.

flossing

2006-03-05T11:03:00.000-05:00

My friend Kyle doesn’t floss his teeth. He doesn’t believe it’s necessary, and says that flossing doesn’t do anything to help his teeth. Brushing does just fine, and the necessity of flossing is a hoax.

We had a big discussion/argument the other day about the issue. There was a group of us sitting around trying to convince him that flossing is good for his teeth. He would have none of it, and told us all how wrong we all are, and that we are deceived by the media and the floss manufacturing industry.

We told him that flossing helps clean your teeth in places your brush can’t get to – it helps get rid of plaque and helps prevent gum disease and tooth decay. We told him that if he doesn’t floss, his teeth will fall out and he will be socially undesirable. Well, not quite that, but close. It should be seen as a natural consequence of delinquency in flossing.

Later at home, I was thinking about how stupid the whole thing was, and how Kyle is the one that is deceived, not us! I shrugged it off as I brushed my teeth and went to bed without flossing.

I have to give it to Kyle. I think he’s completely wrong, but at least his practice is consistent with what he believes. What’s the use of believing anything if you’re not consistent with it? I can imagine us sitting on a porch in 50 years. Neither of us have any teeth. Kyle might eventually admit that flossing would have saved his teeth. I might open my mouth to say “I told you so,” but won’t be able to say much because I won’t have any teeth either.

Anyway, I flossed last night.

microsoft ipod?

2006-03-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

shelter

2006-02-28T23:47:00.000-05:00

A group of us were talking the other day, and for some reason I mentioned Eeyore, from Winnie the Pooh. One of my friends turned to me and said, “Eyeore – Is that Star Wars?”

I laughed so hard. It wasn’t so much that I thought he was ignorant or sheltered, but just the thought of a depressed donkey anywhere in Star Wars was almost too much to handle. But part of me kind of wondered how in the world someone can grow up not knowing either Winnie the Pooh or Star Wars.

To call someone sheltered isn’t always such a compliment, and sometimes borders on ridicule. Sheltered people almost have grown up shut away from reality, and when they encounter the real world, don’t know much of how it works. Naïve is another word that works like that. There isn’t much glamour in being labeled naïve.

But is it so bad to be sheltered? What do we lose by not knowing so much about the inner workings of the big world out there? “Knowledge is power” was a phrase I heard most often by people trying to convince students of the importance of staying in school. I think I’m nearly brainwashed to think that the more I know about anything, the more powerful I am. I can still hear the line from the old G.I. Joe commercial, “Now you know—and knowing is half the battle…”

But I know I’ve seen in some things I wish I hadn’t. I know some things I wish I didn’t know. It’s true - some things can’t avoid. I don’t want to live with my head buried in the sand, pretending that everything is fine in the world. I have a classmate from Rwanda, who saw and experienced things during the genocide that I can’t even imagine. I don’t want to pretend like things like that don’t exist, but seeing and experiencing them changes a person. But it’s interesting that the type of things that people did in Rwanda are in our books and movies anyway. Does it really not affect us, even if it is staged or fictitious? Do you think we can observe anything we want and walk away unaffected? Am I that far above or beyond impression?

We know that kids are impressionable. We say, “wait until you are older - then you can know and see and do.” Why? Because we know it will shape them… But we who are older can’t go back behind what has shaped us. I do think people can be reshaped, by God’s grace, but many people carry scars and regrets from things they wish they never did.

TV was never a really safe babysitter, and the internet can be even worse now… I’m not trying to rant against the media, though I think there are a lot of objectionable things thrown at us daily, and I have to admit that I kind of like the stickers that say “Kill your TV…”

Kids who grew up without damaging influences are different. Naïve, maybe, but sometimes more healthy. In grade school we used to harass those kids. They were a joke to us, but never quite got it. Maybe that was a good thing. They were fresher, almost like they had just showed up on earth from a place where they don’t use ridicule, sarcasm, or satire. They obviously didn’t belong, but thinking back, I wonder if the benefits of “belonging” were really worth the garbage that came along with it.

There’s almost a kind of arrogance in the idea that we can do anything we want and stay on top of it all. Do we think we really are masters of our domain? We are frail and weak in many ways. It doesn’t take much to kill us or change us. But if it is true that the human spirit, or will, is the strongest and most lasting thing we have, then maybe we should be better about protecting it and training it in a good path.

You can call it innocence or ignorance, but as I told my friend that Eeyore wasn’t from Star Wars at all, part of me wished I could say, “Uh, I don’t know...”

birds and flook

2006-02-26T23:00:00.000-05:00

Well, after a nice breakfast of arepas and oranges, I’m on my way. It’s been a fast weekend trip to Maryland, but good to see my family and spend some time with them. And, as always, it’s been good seeing Princess Arwyn again. My niece has been in top form this weekend, keeping the entire family at her beck and call. The newest habit that they are trying to free her from is that of saying “now” to everything. She understands that everyone can boss her around, and is now exploring the possibilities of bossing them around. It hasn’t been working too well for her, and she ended the day by carrying some stuffed birds from room to room and scolding them. “Birds stay home. Now!” Not the most coherent command, but the birds seem to have understood it, and stayed home. Now.

Last night we went to see Flook. My whole family came, with a grand total of 8 in the party. I thought they would like it, but wasn’t sure how much. The opening group, a kind of folk-art duo named “Morwenna and Jay” didn’t really score so high with the family (although I do think it was the only time there was an Arwyn and Morwenna in the same room), but Flook was a smashing success. Arwyn connected with a couple of the band members pretty well. It started with her waving at them from the audience, and them waving back and making comments about her. They got a kick out of her bopping and clapping to the music. If you’re lucky, you might see a picture of her with a couple of them on the band’s site.

At any rate, the music was fantastic, the venue was really small, and we got to spend some time with the group after the show. I give it three thumbs up.

air force one

2006-02-23T15:57:00.000-05:00

Well, President Bush was in South Bend today. Not really a newsworthy event for me, except that I’m flying out of South Bend. I don’t know where he’s heading next, but I’m going to Washington, and I’m assuming that’s where he was going. There’s a lot of work to be done there, I hear. When I got to the airport, his plane had just left. I was kind of upset that he didn’t wait for me. I was planning on just getting a ride with him. I would have much rather gone on Air Force One than on the puddlejumper they have me on instead. Oh well. I suppose you can’t have everything. If anyone sees him, though, tell him that I’m not going to wait for him next time. He can get his own ride.

Scratch that last part. Right now they have American flags all down the jetway (such as it is at a small airport like this one), and there’s a big gray plane out on the tarmac that I think is Air Force One. It sure doesn’t look like the one from the movies though. So is he avoiding me, or what? I don’t have time for these games. I don’t have time to sit around waiting for the President. I’m just going to forget about it, take my economy class ticket and go home.

so fast

2006-02-17T10:06:00.000-05:00

I just saw one of the most amazing videos. The Building Industry Association of San Diego holds a contest from time to time to see who can build a house in the shortest amount of time. The video I saw looked like it was from the late 70s or early 80s, so they weren’t using a lot of the faster power tools we have now.

How fast can a three-bedroom, 1,800 square foot house be built? Everything needs to be built from the ground up: foundation, footers, structure, plumbing, electrical, drywall, carpeting, landscaping, everything, so that the house is ready to be lived in.

There were two teams, about 700 workers in all. They were racing each other, trying to beat the world record, which at that time was 4:18. That’s right – four hours, eighteen minutes. (?!?!) Each team did a practice house, and their times were 7 hours or more.

When all was said and done, their final time was 2:45. I couldn’t believe it – how incredible is that? I suppose there’s no limit to what we can get done if we’re focused and united.

(Habitat for Humanity built a 4 bedroom house in New Zealand in 1999, which took them 3 hours, 44 minutes, and 59 seconds. They claim to be the fastest house builders in the world, but not only was their time slower, but they used prefabricated walls…)

I wonder what I can get done in the next 2 hours and 45 minutes.

driving carefully

2006-02-15T21:18:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I'm back or still here. It feels like I've been on a long trip for the last month or so, road weary and almost back home. At the same time, though, I was only gone this last weekend. Other than that trip, I've been here all along, in the same duplex, same classes. My next break (other than every weekend) is in less than a month, and I'm counting the days...

This last weekend I drove to Lincoln, Nebraska. Doesn't usually happen, but the weekend came, and I looked at my schedule and realized this was my only open weekend for the next couple months. So I seized the day, my toothbrush and sleeping bag and jumped in the car. I drove fast, but carefully. The trip home was an adventure because I was really thirsty and drank about 4 liters of water. I won't be doing that again.

It was a good trip. I saw some friends I haven't seen for a while (It's always too long). Seeing good friends again feels a lot like coming home.

I only have one pair of jeans now. Today my second pair got a hole in the knee. Am I whining? It's not so bad. I'm aware that I'm blessed to have jeans at all.

Here are a couple of kids I met in Madagascar. They are on their way to get water, because their house has no plumbing. The kid on the left is lucky to have two shirts. Man, it's amazing how quickly perspectives can change! I'm thankful for what I do have, and glad to be reminded of how blessed I really am..

Speaking of which, here's a blessing: After our exchange about blogging and pictures (or the absence of both) and not a few jokes at the expense of my cereal-box camera, Jon surprised me one day in class by handing me a digital camera. "We got a new one, and don't need this one anymore. Besides, you need to take more pictures. That way your blog won't be so boring." (maybe he didn't say that last part, I can't remember) Granted, like he said, it's only 2.1 megapixels, but what do I have to say about that? It's a huge step up having a camera with a viewfinder that works!

Now you (and Jon) may be wondering why, if I just got another camera, aren't there more pictures? Well, I'm working on that. I just can't imagine that pictures of me studying or sitting in class would be all that interesting. But just in case...

honorable mention

2006-01-30T19:48:00.000-05:00

Our washing machine has been misbehaving. It has been frequently reaching the end of a cycle half full of water, with lots of suds. It hasn’t been doing the spin cycle, either. This is of course unacceptable, not only because our clothes were wet and soapy, but because it was hurting business. Walter and Jeremiah haven’t been by as frequently to wash clothes (and who could blame them?), and the Sauerkraut can hasn’t been filling up with coins as quickly as before. I was really hoping that it wasn’t broken. What do you do with a broken washer?

Take it out on the range and shoot it?

I sat down with the machine a day or two ago to see if I could figure out just what was wrong. I pulled Daniel’s near-rancid 3-day-old wet wash out and put it in a plastic bag, and then put a load of my own in. The washer was up to its usual tomfoolery, and ended the cycle full of water. I backed up the knob and put it on “drain.” It took the water down a bit, so I just kept doing this until all the water was out – then it spun the load, and everything was peachy. Then I put Daniel’s clothes back in so he could find them where he left them. The diagnosis: Something was clogging the drain, or the hose. I didn’t have time to test my hunch, so I told Daniel on my way out.

This morning I received the joyous tidings: The hose was pinched, and that was why it hadn’t been draining. Daniel straightened the hose out, and it works perfectly. So simple.

The moral of the story is that you shouldn't get bent out of shape because people will think you're broken and take you out on the range.

In recognition of selfless action above and beyond the call of duty, Daniel is hereby named recipient of the Good Citizen Award and the Victoria Cross of the Distinguished Order of the Washer.

2006-01-30T12:19:00.000-05:00

Cats are funny.

strategy

2006-01-29T00:57:00.000-05:00

It's that time of the semester when I have to bite the bullet and buy textbooks. I should have bought them already, but I've been holding out to see just which ones we will really need for class. I don't have enough money to buy all the textbooks they want me to, so I have to find some way to beat the system.

This last semester we had this terrible leadership book we had to buy for class. The book cost about $15, and there was no way I was going to spend that much on a trash book that I would just throw out anyway. I searched around and found it online for 28 cents. At the end of the year the bookstore bought it back for $4. Victory!

My junior year in college, I went to sell some of my books back at the end of the year. They didn't buy most of them, and when I asked them what I was supposed to do with all my books, they told me I could keep them, throw them out, or put them in the box in front of the counter, and they would throw the books out for me.

I tossed my books in the box, and then took the box. I went down to the bookstore of a different university in town, and they bought the whole box. I made $100 that day.

Last semester I waited until my roommate, Daniel, had gotten all his books. Then I went and bought all the ones I needed that he didn't have. Is that shady? He said he didn't care if I read them, so I figured it was a good strategy. I'm going to need some good ideas now, because our schedules are different. If only all my textbooks cost 28 cents...

up with the wags

2006-01-27T23:54:00.000-05:00

It's kind of like when authors used to have a conversation or a disagreement and would end up writing books at each other. The only things that are different are that Jon and I aren't authors and these are not books. But I suppose it's the best we can do. After all, Jon doesn't have much time now that he's married and has pets. Just yesterday I heard someone say that if you want to do something with the Weigleys, you have to book it well in advance.

Jon responded and revealed to the whole world, with reckless abandon, that my name is Gerald. It's true - I can't deny it, and I don't mind it either. It's a good name, and I can't imagine being a different name. Like Jack or Patrick or Robert or Kyle or Michael or Walter or David or even like my neighbor, Muhammad Ali. I have a friend who changed her name - I think that would make me have some identity questions. To have my given name gone from all records would be the strangest thing... I don't think names are things that you're stuck with as much as things to grow into. We shouldn't be defined by anyone else that has our name, but should take the name and live with it. When you're gone, people will remember you and your name. Live like you want to be remembered - and when when people hear your name, they'll shake their heads and wonder why there aren't more people like you in the world.

Well anyway, Jon's latest post (read it - it's enlightening!) should shed some light on my last post. I sure didn't remember our conversation as well as he did, but I heartily agree with the moral of the story - that you should have friends. If you're running low on friends, write to Jon or me, and add us to the list.

Here's the first addition to our reader's Gallery. It's a color-by-number self portrait of Jon Weigley. Enjoy.

Coloring by Jon Weigley

fine art

2006-01-26T10:45:00.000-05:00

Jon asked me yesterday if I had read his new post. I said I hadn’t, and a small discussion ensued concerning whether we had posted and/or read/commented on each other’s blogs and why not. He told me that he just skims my posts and that I write too much and that he just wants to look at pictures. So, Jon, I’ll try to put up some more pictures.

This first one is special, for Jon. But even if you aren't Jon, you can print it out and color it if you want.

Okay, enough of that. I actually found an old stack of pictures a couple days ago, and I scanned this one. I’ll scan some of the others and post them too. I’m sorry - my scanner is barely better than my digital camera, but you’ll still hopefully be able to see what’s going on in the picture.

This is my friend David. He plays guitar and writes songs about life and God and the mountains. I got to know him through music mostly, and playing outdoors. This pic is from sometime in 2000 or 2001 when we went to Knoxville to record some of his songs. It was a quick trip, but a good one. If anyone can find a copy of that album, it will be surprising.

Hmm. I am finding that I don’t have many pictures. Next on the list is to buy a camera. This is a picture of three of my best, oldest (in history of friendship, not age...) friends – a good number of years in my life are defined in terms of their friendship… L to R Shoshanna, Tina, Cory, and Me.

This was the view from my window in the place I stayed in Antananarivo, Madagascar this last spring and summer. All in all, this was home for about a month. I would go sit at those tables in the morning and read, pray, and relax, getting ready for the day. These days I'd give a lot for a view like that!

Then again, this was the view out of the other window. The hand belongs to Kenwyn, and it's a pretty good-sized hand. This was also one of the smaller spiders hanging around. He must have been a baby...

It kind of occurred to me that these pictures are interesting to me, but they most likely aren’t to you, unless you happen to be in them. I apologize for that, and will look for some more pictures that have a bit more of a story so we can all enjoy…

Until then, maybe you can print out Jon’s picture and color it! If you do, send me a copy and I'll post it. It'll be fun. like a reader's gallery.

one step at a time

2006-01-25T00:19:00.000-05:00

I've had this song in my head for a while. It's by Eric Bibb. I wish you could hear it, but reading just might be the next best thing...

Shingle by Shingle

folks stumble and fall
ain't nothin new at all
we just keep comin' up with new ways of goin' down

whether you're poor or rich
at the bottom of the ditch
you can finally see the light and turn your life around

shingle by shingle - I'm patchin' up the roof
row by row - I'm bringin' in the crop
love makes a change - I'm livin' the proof
new water's in the well and I'm grateful for every drop

I've had my share of debts
and some regrets
I'm leaving all that behind and movin' on

I thank God today
I can truly say
my soul's dark night has turned to dawn

shingle by shingle - I'm patchin' up the roof
row by row - I'm bringin' in the crop
love makes a change - I'm livin' the proof
new water's in the well and I'm grateful for every drop

chinese food on the beach

2006-01-21T16:27:00.000-05:00

We just had what i imagine was one of the warmest January days in Michigan history. It was sunny and warm, with not a cloud in the sky. It was Thursday, so I got out of class at 12:30 with the rest of the day free. I wasn't quite sure how to take advantage of it, but I was hungry and kind of wanted to get away a little bit.

I drove to Chan's Garden (my favorite Chinese restaurant around here) in St. Joseph and ordered some vegetable soup and broccoli with ginger to go. While they were making it, I wandered around the block and found some interesting stores.

The first one had sort of an identity problem. They didn't know if they were a cafe, an antique store, a hippie drugstore or a neo-pagan temple supply shop. Some kind of Sister Moonbeam lady asked if she could help me with anything, and I said thanks, I'm just looking. I passed some incense, aromatherapy oils, ear candles, temple bells, 193os typewriters, old eyeglasses, bagels, scones, a giant overpriced armoire and some Tibetan prayer flags, and walked out, waving goodbye to Mother Earth behind the counter. I'm not sure, but I think there was something on a bulletin board about dolphin spirit something or other. It reminded me of a website I saw once advertising trips to go swim with dolphins:

"We will utilize the energy of the dolphins and whales to move from third dimensional living to fifth dimensional manifestation. We will make a deep connection with...our cetacean brothers and sisters receiving profound wisdom and healing energy transmissions which assist us to transmute the old, limiting patterns which have kept us stuck in the 'old matrix.' When we enter into the deep resonance of joy we are able to touch the core of being at the highest vibrations where creation of our dreams, visions and desires reside."

Hmmm. One woman on another site gives the story of how she ended up giving swim-with-dolphins tours:

"As I followed this new path laid before me by the dolphins, there was one underlying message I kept hearing, and that was "Bring people to us". Initially I was unsure what that meant. I wasn't interested in doing dolphin swims all summer, so I wasn't clear what was being asked of me. In time, however, I came to see that I was being asked to serve as a bridge between the dolphin and human worlds, sort of an ambassador to the Cetacean Nation."

I met a couple once who kind of reminded me of this kind of approach to life. If you can imagine Shirley MacLaine married to Christopher Walken, that will give you a kind of picture of them. It was a trip, to say the least. She was convinced that the bats flying outside at night were trying to communicate with her, and he was working to build a device that would record their high-pitched calls and convert them into lower frequencies so she could decipher them.

I don't know what I learned from that encounter other than the fact that people like that exist outside of movies. There are some strange things in this town.

I didn't get to spend much time in the next store. It was a small bookshop with lots of interesting books selling for the price printed on the cover. So far, textbooks are the only kind of book that I have been able to buy at face value. Maybe I was raised to be a bargain hunter, but I always feel a little robbed when I pay sticker price for a book.

Anyway, I left the hippie shop (which I found out later is named "Tootie and Dreamer's" - go figure) and the overpriced bookshop and headed back to get my soup and broccoli. I didn't need any incense or scented oils or swims with dolphins or even a good book to enjoy this day - all I wanted was to get some good food in my belly and sit on the beach, and I am happy to report that that is exactly what happened.

I wish I could have captured that moment and reproduced it here for your enjoyment, but all I had with me was my sorry excuse for a cereal-box prize camera. It's digital, but tiny and temperamental. The viewfinder doesn't work, so I have no idea what I'm taking a picture of. Plus it doesn't have a focus. Someone please get me a real camera.

At any rate, camera or no, it was a good good lunch. I sat on a bench, ate my good food, and topped it off with a few mandarin oranges. There was even a wireless signal coming from somewhere, so I got to chat with Tim (in the Netherlands) for a few minutes. Not too shabby. Didn't see any dolphins either.

rainy day voices

2006-01-16T23:02:00.000-05:00

This semester has started out strong! I’ve been working on projects every day since the first day of class. I’m hoping that if I can really tackle it at the beginning I’ll have more of a break at the end. We’ll see about that – I’ve been hoping to post some more about my trip, but I have to interrupt it with this thought:

Janelle, my sister, called me tonight and told me an interesting story… Last Wednesday, she was sitting in her car at a stoplight, waiting for it to turn green. Without warning, it suddenly started pouring down rain. She said it had been cloudy, but the forecast had been for no rain.

Just after the rain started, she heard a voice, clear and audible, that said, “Help him.” She looked around, thinking a window had been open, and someone from outside had said something, but the windows were all up, and she was alone in the car, and there was nobody in sight. Then, in the rear view mirror, she noticed an old white-haired homeless man walking slowly up the line of cars. He wasn’t begging or looking at the cars, but was just trudging up the median in the rain. Sitting on the floor on the passenger side was an umbrella she had just bought. She rolled down the window and asked the man if he could use an umbrella. “Bless you, my child,” the man replied. When she asked him when the last time he had eaten was, he told her it had been two days. Looking in her purse, she was surprised to find a crumpled 20 dollar bill in the bottom. She gave it to him, and he said, “God bless you, God bless you, God bless you.”

Strange. Also strange is that every night since then, she has had the same dream. In the dream, she hears a voice say, “Go back and find him.” So, in the dream, she goes back to the intersection and he is there again. She takes him to a restaurant, and that's when she wakes up. Every night, same thing, five nights in a row.

What do you make of that?

on the proper use of the horn

2006-01-15T20:16:00.000-05:00

The local post office seems to be a place full of inspiration around here. Almost every time I go there, I have something new to think about.

Before I started my vacation travels, I went to the post office to ask them to hold my mail until I got back. I was walking out of the building toward my car, and saw a man get into the car next to mine. The parking in front of the office is diagonal on-street parking, and if there is a large car or truck parked next to you, you can’t see anything as you back out. You just have to say a prayer, throw it in reverse, and brace for impact. As the guy parked next to me started to back out, he tapped his horn. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but as I got into my car, it hit me how out of place that was. It wasn’t an angry blast – he was just letting anyone coming know that he was backing out. It sent such a different message than I was used to hearing here in America.

I’ve heard people use their horn for lots of different things. In some places they blow the horn as they run a red light or stop sign, or as they come careening around a corner (perhaps the last warning some poor bicyclist or pedestrian might ever hear), announcing their intention not to stop for anything, but encouraging anyone within earshot to get out of the way. I’ve seen many drivers in other countries use the horn while being cautious. They give a couple beeps when coming to a blind corner, and actually slow down. In other places I’ve been with a driver who lets a bicyclist know we are coming up behind him by giving a short beep.

The car horn in other countries is almost like its own means of communication. Drivers use the horn to send all kinds of messages:
Look out
Slow down – there is something ahead
Please be careful
I’m backing up now
Sorry
Thanks
Let me in (please)
Move your oxcart out of the road

But here in America, we usually use our horns to send different messages:
Where did you learn to drive, you moron
Get out of my way
Get that piece of trash car off the road
(And as a substitute for any unflattering name you might call someone)

Basically any annoyed or angry expression I’ve ever heard from a driver could be, and usually is, expressed with one long obnoxious horn blast

It was nice to hear a polite horn today, in a land of the rude blast.

It was nice to hear a horn used as a helpful tool, and not just a blunt weapon randomly swung about. A horn isn’t good or bad necessarily, but it’s what you do with it. I suppose there are a lot of other things in life that are like that. There are some tools that only a few really have, like money and political power, but there are also some that everyone has, like time, abilities, talents, and influence. We might have them in differing amounts, but we have them just the same. I wonder if time and influence might be at the top of the list.

I also suppose horns are a lot like words, in that they are a tool – a tool that I have regrettably misused many times. I just read this from Churchill: “We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let out.”

But on the other hand: “Better is open rebuke than hidden love.” Proverbs 27:5

Somehow I don’t think that last one applies to horns, though here in America we're all about the open horn rebuke. Maybe one day we'll use our horns for loving each other instead. Or helping. That would be a start.

closed roads

2006-01-12T10:31:00.000-05:00

I wrote some posts while I was gone, but haven’t had a chance to post them until now. I’m back in Michigan now, after spending some time in Maryland and the Czech Republic visiting some friends. The first week I spent in Trinec. On the way there was when my bag got stolen. After that, I spent about a week in Prague. Just so we’re on the same page…

We had grand plans for Friday. We were going to practice our translations, I was going to make a slide show about Madagascar, we were going to drive to Ostrava, a bigger city about 60 km away, to buy some shoes and socks, a computer adapter, go play in the mountains, and then come home and play some music.

Thursday night it started snowing, on top of the 6-8 inches that was already on the ground. It snowed all night, and there was quite a bit on the ground when we got up in the morning. We left at about 9:00 to drive to Ostrava. The roads were pretty bad, and the snow was still coming down hard. The snowplows hadn’t really been out yet, and cars were stuck all over the place. The road we were on has a lot of hills, and is also a major trucking route through the area. The road was littered with trucks stuck in the snow – stuck halfway up the hills, halfway down the hills, at the top of some, and at the bottom of others. Some were stuck in their lane, some were stuck in the other lane, some weren’t in any lane, but had opted for the ditch. One truck that had gone into the ditch at a nasty angle was a car-carrier truck full of brand new little Fiats. That was one expensive accident.

We made it up the hills, around the trucks, over the river and through the woods until we got to a small village called Vojkovice. Marek knew there was a stiff downhill and uphill ahead, and thought it would most likely be blocked, so we turned around. Plus, there were police cars all over the place with their lights on.

We came back home by a different way, which turned out to be good, because on the way back we heard on the radio that Vojkovice was shut down, and all the roads we had come on were now completely blocked. We heard reports that Ostrava had been completely snowed in, and one man on the radio was telling everyone to stay away from the city, to turn around no matter where they were. Glad we decided to go back home.

By the time we got home, even the roads we returned on were blocked, and when all was said and done, we had close to 70 cm (27 in) of snow.

It was good to be home, and it wasn’t until then that we realized how blessed we were. We had been basically out of gas, and were planning on filling up in Ostrava. We would have been stuck between two nowhere villages, with no gas and a 2 ½ year old.

I wonder how often we’re close to disaster and don’t really know it. When the worst doesn’t happen, I have a tendency to think it wasn’t so threatening anyway, and laugh it off without thinking about how bad it could have been. It made me wonder how much of my life is on a thin line between safe normalcy and complete disaster, and helped me to appreciate the warmth and peace I do have.

Well, we got back in, and spent the rest of the day talking and relaxing. Our grand plans hadn't amounted to much. I still had only the clothes on my back and we hadn't gotten anything done, but we were glad to be home, and the snow was beautiful - a good end to a good day.

sitting in an airport (again)

2006-01-09T17:32:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm at Dulles in Washington this time. I got in about two hours ago from Prague with a stop in Copenhagen, and now I'm waiting for the next flight to South Bend through Cincinnati. I don't know how flight routing works, but I would give a lot for a direct flight right about now. Most big airports have about the same feel, and about the same prices, though I'm not unhappy at all about spending $1.25 for the orange I just ate. It was like a slice of heaven after the food on the plane. As bad as it was, though, I wanted more. Does anyone know how to get more food from them? Will they give you another meal if you ask? Or is that too much? They heat up a ton of it, and it can't all be used up... They keep giving us drinks, and if I drink enough, it would add up to the cost of a meal, right?

I'll put some pictures of the trip up when I'm back at home. I hope everyone is having a happy January!

2006-01-01T15:10:00.000-05:00

This is Michal Dorica, the one who helped me out in Ostrava. We were over at his house with the rest of the family tonight. He has the official ČESKÉ DRÁHY (Czech Railways) uniform, so I made him put the hat on for a picture, and he was happy to oblige.

thieves, gravediggers and a lighter load

2005-12-29T12:23:00.000-05:00

I got into Prague on Tuesday morning, spent the night, and headed out yesterday morning for Třinec to spend some time with my friends Eva and Marek, and their 2 ½ year old daughter, Anna (Anička). This weekend I have the sermon in their church, plus a program in the afternoon and a concert with Marek.

The train from Prague to Olomouc (where I would catch a different train to Třinec) was on this newfangled bullet-looking train they call the Pendolino. It sounds exotic, and I suppose it is. It’s got to be the nicest train in the whole country. You need seat reservations, which is a big step up from the cattle cars we used to ride in. The ride was nice and smooth, and went quickly. I passed the time preparing the programs for this weekend and looking out the window. The whole countryside is covered in snow. Everything is white, so it was easy to spot animals in the trees or on the ground. I started counting them – the nerd in me couldn’t resist – an watching more closely to see what was out there. Aside from the countless miscellaneous birds, cats, dogs, horses and cows, I saw 9 rabbits, 20 deer, 9 hawks, and one lone fox running across a field. Not bad!

The train was running late, and there were a lot of delays. I didn’t know when we would arrive at the station, and i didn’t have a map to figure it out. I knew I would have less than a minute to get my stuff and get off the train when it arrived, so I was kind of on edge and waiting for the announcement. When I heard it, I threw my stuff in my laptop case, grabbed my coat and jumped off. I turned around on the platform, and saw a face that I recognized. It was Michal, Eva’s cousin. I met him exactly one year ago in Trinec, where my friend Marsha and Tomáš had their wedding. He called out my name, which surprised me. He was working in the baggage office there at the station in Olomouc, about 50 km from Třinec. I was especially glad to see him, because my train had come in really late, and I had missed my connection. He was checking the schedules for the next train when I suddenly realized that I didn’t have my backpack with me. I had jumped off the train without it. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I got just then, but if you’ve ever done something like that, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I told Michal as best I could what happened, and we went out to the platform to wait for the train to come back. It turns out that it goes on to the main Olomouc station, and then comes back. We were at one of the outer stations. We had less than a minute to get on, scour the car, and get off before the train left again. I ran to my seat and looked over the whole car, but there was no bag.

Michal was on top of the situation. He called ahead to the next station, the office in Prague and the end station in Olomouc, and had them all checking for it. He even managed to get the cell phone number of the conductor on the train. How he did that, I don’t know, but I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Michal loves trains. From the time he was little, everything was about trains. Now, at 25, he lives, eats and breathes everything that has to do with trains. Right now he is on break from a school in Slovakia where he is studying trains – I don’t know what you would call it, Trainology or something, but trains are his life. When he has a break from school, he volunteers anywhere he can on the railway system, just to work with the trains. He has worked at about every station in the region, and they all know him. That was why he was here, 50 km from home on a freezing winter day, working in the baggage office. During the couple hours I waited there, I got to see him in action. He really knows his stuff, and he loves to help people. It was honestly inspiring to watch him go. Well, long story short, if there was anyone who could get my bag back, it would be Michal.

I had the bag that had my laptop, money, passport, etc with me, but my clothes, my best suit and tie, dress shoes, new fleece and new gaiters were all in my backpack. I got some of the same feeling in my stomach that I had after my dad got mugged in front of us on the tram 4 years ago. All they got from him was a digital camera, and it could have been a lot worse, but there was still that strange, helpless feeling.

Kind of like this:

Michal was determined to find my bag, but not just that – when it became clear that I would be there for a while, he found me a warm place to wait, and came back about 25 minutes later, handed me his lunch and 100 crowns, and told me to follow him and he would find me a place where I could eat. He wouldn’t listen to my protests (this time he used the language barrier to his advantage), and we hiked across a few parking lots over to a tiny little Chinese restaurant no bigger than a motorhome, because he knew I could get some vegetarian food there. He wouldn’t listen to me as I tried to give his money and food back to him, and he ordered some noodles and tea for me and told me to sit down, eat and wait there, because Marek was on his way.

As I sat there eating my noodles and my body began to thaw, I just shook my head. Where would I have been if Michal wasn’t there? Sure, I didn’t get my bag back, but what an inspiration to see how Michal helped me. I really couldn’t believe it. In the end, Marek got there, and helped convince Michal to take his lunch back, but he still wouldn’t take the 100 crowns. As we sat there for a few minutes talking about the whole fiasco, Marek told me to expect that it had been stolen. Michal said he would keep trying, and would call us when the conductor and the other baggage offices got back to him.

I got to my friends’ home exhausted and tired, and sat thinking about the day. First, I felt so stupid - how could I have done that? Where was my head? I didn’t even think of it, but just grabbed my coat and laptop and jumped off... but there was no use beating myself up over it. I started to wonder why God would allow me to do that – but these things are hard to see. I don’t doubt that I’ll know someday what came of all of this and whether there was some larger plan, but right now there aren’t really any answers.

I thought about what I had been reading in Matthew. I had just finished the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7, and had spent a lot of time on the verses that talk about not worrying:

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:26-33

It was really hard to think about my bag being gone. It could have been worse, but i was surprised at how hard i was taking it. I should be happy to have my papers and of course my health and life, blah blah blah.

That bag had not only nearly everything for this part of the trip in it, but it also had many of my favorite possessions – suit, tie, shoes, gaiters, fleece – all things that are replaceable in theory, but i’ll never have exactly the same items again. It made me wonder if i’m too attached to my possessions. After all, I only really have the use of them for a short time, and they’ll all burn in the end, anyway. Why should i worry about it? Right now I’m in the same clothes I wore yesterday, except for a borrowed t-shirt and socks. Last night we went to the Czech equivalent of Wal-Mart which specializes in having, as Marek puts it, "something of everything and nothing of anything." I got a toothbrush, razor etc, and this afternoon I’ll go to some other stores and see if I can find some shoes. It’s a hassle and an inconvenience, but even in my ability to replace those items, I’m privileged beyond what I deserve.

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Matthew 6:19-21

I guess this little adventure is pretty appropriate, considering what I’ve been reading. I don’t want anything to tie me down to this old earth, and If I have treasure in heaven and not much else, that will be enough for me.

. . .

Today we went to the mountains, to a little village not far from here where there is a ski area. We went to ride this cool bobsled/rollercoaster thingamajig that they have out there. It sounded fun when they told me about it, so we went to check it out.

On the way we drove through a couple villages all snowed in. People everywhere were digging out their cars and driveways. Some of the drifts, together with the piles the snowplow left behind were about 4 feet in some places. We passed a church, where a group of men were standing around in the courtyard in front of the building. They were holding instruments – tuba, trumpet, trombone, oboe, clarinet – and were getting ready to play. I got excited because I thought we were in for a real down-home Silesian hoedown, but Marek said they were probably getting ready to play a funeral.

We had to hike up to the ski place because we didn’t have tire chains on the car. It was a nice walk, but when we got there the bobsled run wasn’t open for business. The man there said that it should be open in about 15 minutes, because he had to go clean the snow off the tracks. Eva talked with him, and it turns out that the guys that run the bobsled hill were late getting to work this morning because they had been up all night digging a grave (not an easy thing to do here in the winter), the same funeral the musicians had been preparing for. A shoveler's work is never done, it seems...

The bobsled run was great. There are these sled/bobsled types of thing, that go on rails like a rollercoaster. They crank you up the hill on a cable next to the ski lift, and then drop you down over the top, and away you go! It’s basically a big downhill rollercoaster with turns and drops, and you can control the speed. It was the best when you used the accelerator the whole time, with no brake. I had one ticket left, but my toes and hands were frozen (yep, my snow gloves were in my backpack too), so we went home. Aside from being a little cold, what a great time!

Now it’s about 3 pm and Anička is taking her nap. that sounds like a good idea. It seems like there is more time to take naps and enjoy life more fully when you’re not preoccupied about keeping your treasure here on earth.

rolling stone

2005-12-21T01:17:00.000-05:00

Time is going too fast! It seems like we finished finals yesterday, but it was nearly a week ago. After they finished, I realized that I had a good week before it was time to go to Maryland, and I didn't want to spend it sitting in my apartment watching the snow melt, so Youssef and I drove down to Tennessee, spent time with our families, and drove back. All in all a very productive trip, although not very restful. We got back a little after 11 pm tonight, and tomorrow at 11 am my flight leaves for MD. I feel like I'm on a treadmill doing a stress test, and the technician is pretending not to hear my wheezing pleas for mercy.

Well, I'm off to bed, to try to get some rest for another long day...

Before I go, though, here's a question for you:

Do you think it's better to be a world traveler, or like some of my friends who live in East Tennessee and never leave the county ("what can be better than right here," they ask)? Rolling or rooted?

Martin has this quote on his blog: "Travel is fatal to bigotry, prejudice, and narrow-mindedness. Broad, wholesome, and charitable views cannot be acquired by vegetating in one tiny corner of the globe." - Mark Twain

But then there is this: “In the heated idleness of youth…we were inclined to ask, 'Who wants to gather moss, except silly old ladies?' but for all that we begin to perceive that the proverb is right. The rolling stone rolls echoing from rock to rock; but the rolling stone is dead. The moss is silent because the moss is alive . . . The world traveler lives in a smaller world than the peasant." - G. K. Chesterton

capless

2005-12-12T22:03:00.000-05:00

A professor I had once, Dr Leatherman, was always willing to let people borrow a pen from him. When you would ask, he would very deliberately hold the pen up, take the cap off, place it on the desk, and hand you the pen without the cap. We asked him why he did this, and he told us that pens with caps never come back, but people will almost always give back a pen with no cap.

A pen without a cap is a disaster waiting to happen. You can’t put it in your pocket, you can’t put it in your bag – all you can do is write with it, and then get rid of it. You can’t control a pen without a cap, and you never know what it’s going to do, with one exception – you always know that it will come back to you if you loan it out. Even if it takes a while. My friend Walter once borrowed a pen from Dr. Leatherman at church, and ended up holding it all day because Leatherman left early before Walter could give it back to him. Walter is a pretty conscientious guy, and instead of chucking the pen or losing it somewhere, he held it (tip up, of course) until he could give it back to Dr. Leatherman.

I’m taking semester finals right now. Times are busy and stressful, with many things to remember. One thing to remember is to bring a couple good pens to the tests. Today, I was one pen poorer than I was last week. I bet you can’t guess why…

I helped out in a musical number at church this last weekend. Some people had been looking for an accordion player, and someone had pointed them my direction. Let it be said at this juncture that I am not an accordion player, neither do I own lederhosen or enjoy polka. I do have a concertina though, which to the layperson may as well be an accordion (except it’s cuter, they say. How nice). It turned out that a concertina is accordion enough for them, and so I played with them.

Anyway, as I was waiting to go on stage, one of the pastors asked me to lend him a pen. As I took one of my favorite pens out of my pocket, I had a strange feeling I would never see it again. I handed it to him and silently said my goodbyes. It was one of those pens you click. There was no cap, no leash, no assurance, no hope.

I’m sure the man didn’t mean to steal my pen, but that doesn’t change the fact that I now have to go buy another pen. But I can assure you that when I do, I will only be looking for pens with caps. No more of this click-pen nonsense for me. I should have learned my lesson years ago from Dr Leatherman, but at least I've learned it now. Better late than never, I guess.

...

2005-12-12T21:21:00.000-05:00

I almost forgot to mention that I was in the post office today, and our frowning friend was there as usual. But for one second, things were different. For just a moment, gone as quickly as it came, there was a twinkle in his eye. I think I even saw a twich at the corner of his mouth that I believe, through the eyes of faith, maybe even just a little bit, resembled a smile.

Just thought I would pass that along.

grumpy old man

2005-12-08T17:27:00.000-05:00

I pulled up to the drive-through at Taco Bell to grab a quick lunch on my way to class. (It's fast, it's cheap, and it's good. Only I ate too much of it in September and couldn't stand it through the whole month of October. But now I was back.)

“Welcome to Taco Bell. Can I take your order, please?”

“Hi, I’d like two bean burritos, fresco style, with rice.” (my favorite)

(pause) “ Just out of curiosity, how much are they usually charging for that?”

“$2.42,” I replied. I don't know what made her ask me that, but I know how much my burritos cost.

“Oh, Okay...”

I wondered what made her ask me how much it was supposed to cost. Did she know how to ring it up right? They often simply add fresco sauce instead of making it fresco style, which means that there is cheese in my burrito. I have never gotten along with cheese, and sometimes would rather go hungry than eat cheese. So to keep them from making it over, or me from giving it away, I thought I would be helpful.

“You probably know this, but sometimes they add the fresco sauce instead of making it fresco style – I want it fresco style,” I explained.

“That’s what I did, hon. Go ahead and pull around.” She sounded a little testy and impatient, like she was talking to a know-it-all brat.

As I drove up to the window, I felt a little patronized, like she had resented me telling her how to make my burrito and was putting me in my place, as if to say, “I know how to do my job, thank you very much.” Why else had she called me “hon?” I ain’t your honey, ma’am. It sounds fine in the South where I’m from, but up here in Michigan? It just didn’t sound right…

Then I wondered if she had felt patronized, which was not at all what I meant. Had we, from that brief contact, made some assumptions and ended up with a mild misunderstanding? I decided it wasn’t important. They made my burrito the right way, so I had nothing to complain about.

Pulling out of taco bell, I passed a grumpy old man driving a big old Buick. He had the normal face of an old man who doesn’t want to be bothered, and is a little annoyed at having to do whatever he’s doing. He looked worn in years and weighed down with cares, but not really wise in experience. In that split-second assessment he seemed to me like the kind of man who wouldn’t care to teach you anything even if he had something to teach.

This was all in an instant, before my mind had a chance to recognize the man. When I did recognize him, I saw that it was Dr. Richards, one of my professors from this last summer. Dr Richards reads ancient Greek. In fact, he’s the director of the Greek Manuscript Research Center, the second largest repository of ancient Greek manuscripts in the world. He has credentials in Textual Criticism and has been all over the world teaching and researching. He helped a whole class of beginners learn two semesters of Greek in one week. Plus, he’s all-around one of the nicest guys you will ever meet.

I thought it was kind of funny that my mind had written him off before I recognized him and knew better. It’s amazing what quick judgments can do to color your impressions of people… What if I didn’t know Dr. Richards? What kind of picture would I have gone away with? Most likely a grumpy old man driving a big old Buick.

It made me think of the lady in Taco Bell who in an instant seemed like a defensive, ignorant lady without much to offer. I’d like to sit down with her and find out where she’s been, what she’s done, what she would love to do with her life…

I’ve been thinking a lot about not letting life pass me by, and doing that includes people also. The next time I’m tempted to write someone off or classify them as a problem or issue, hopefully I’ll think a second longer. I’m sure I’ll be surprised at what I find.

. . .

"...for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."

1 Samuel 16:7

i love snow

2005-12-07T23:48:00.000-05:00

I wrote earlier that today it stopped snowing and the sun broke through. After it set, the rest of the clouds cleared away and the stars came out. Is there something about cold air that makes it clearer? Anyway, tonight I shoveled the driveway and the sidewalk. You can call me a nerd, but I enjoy shoveling snow. I don’t want to do it all day long, but it was really great to get out there in the cold, quiet evening and work a little. I can’t help thinking that we were made for work. Good work makes me feel more alive than sitting around ever could. That’s not to say that I don’t want to just sit around sometimes, but I always feel better at the end of productive days, and so that gets me out and doing things.

I didn’t get to go on my hike right after I wrote that last post. I got into a conversation with a friend about relationships. Those will take a while sometimes. Another friend, Albert, came around while we were talking and I asked him randomly if he had some gaiters I could use (Remember the note to self from earlier? – oh, someone asked me what gaiters are. They go over your shoes and calves and keep snow out. Here’s a picture…) and lo and behold, he reaches down and pulls out some gaiters! It turns out he had brought them for a game of snow Frisbee between classes (Grad school is great), so he let me borrow them.

After shoveling the snow, I called up Jeremiah, who was in the library writing a paper, and was ready for a break. We hiked all through the hills and woods behind the university. There is something so wonderful about snow covered landscapes at night. The moon was out, and with the snow, made everything bright. We hiked to the spot where he is designing a farmstead for an architecture project, and marked out the buildings and roads in the snow. We even made some snow sculptures. In some places the powder was about a foot and a half. Beautiful! I was planning on going for maybe 30 minutes, but we were gone about 2 hours. I wish you could have been there!

Well, this has been Wednesday. Not a bad day – my longest day of the week in the hardest week of the school year, topped off with a moonlit hike in the snowy woods. Not bad at all. I wish I had some pictures from the hike, but my camera is a joke and plus, it was dark out… At any rate, I hope you all have a good evening. I’m off to bed.

ps
Here’s a fun activity, especially for our English teacher friends out there: How many phrasal verbs can you find in this post (excluding the post script)? (For those of you who are fortunate enough to have avoided teaching those classes, a phrasal verb is a verb accompanied by a preposition that does not have the same meaning without the preposition. Phrasal verbs are usually idiomatic, not translating directly from one language to another. For example: “peel out.” For someone who only knows the dictionary definitions of “peel” and “out,” they wouldn’t understand that it means “drive away quickly.”)

perfect ending

2005-12-07T17:06:00.000-05:00

Today has been far less than perfect. Last night was late, this morning was tired and slow. I skipped breakfast to go scrape the ice off my car. I got snow in my shoes and up my pants (note to self: buy some gaiters). I had a break this morning that was well-spent, and then a quick exegesis paper to write during lunch. I had a presentation of another paper in the afternoon, followed by a final exam, with three or four essay-length recitations.

I just got out of that last class, hand tired and brain aching. Coming up the stairs, I was hit in the face with bright sunshine. To fully appreciate how ecstatic I was, you need to know that it’s been snowing for a week and cloudy for a month (feels like, anyway). Today the sun was out while it was snowing, which was unreal. The sun shining through the snowflakes and giving a yellow glow to it all…

Now we have about 8 inches of beautiful powder, and the sun is out full-strength, giving us a sunset to die for. I’m heading home right now to put on my boots and go for a hike in the woods before it gets too dark. I won’t think about my other exegesis paper, 5 more final exams, term paper, three books to read, and case study until I get back from my hike.

I thank God for these small blessings that keep me going…

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning."

James 1:17

2005-12-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

[Well, before we get into this next post, I just wanted to let you all see a picture of these wonderful pretzels that I helped dip by hand. And no, Sissel, I didn't eat them all. Still healthy. And if anyone wants to know the secret recipe for popcorn balls, just ask. It's disgusting. Don't eat them.]

trying

2005-12-05T23:53:00.000-05:00

I tell you what - this blog thrives on comments, and it's been slim pickins lately. I know the cat hasn't got all your tongues. It would be great to hear from some of you! I am not saying that Martin, Ashley and Tim are slim pickins. They are slim and trim, but I am not talking about them - I'm talking to the rest of our viewing friends who look with their eyes and not with their keyboards... Though to be fair, maybe I would get more comments if i posted more, eh?

At any rate, I'm writing this from the bottom of a pile of work, so it'll have to be short. After spending the last few days in the library and looking forward to two weeks of exams, papers, and projects, I am sure counting down the days till Christmas. In the meantime, I am trying to get it all done.

This year I have a wide range of professors. I appreciated some of them right away, and others have had to grow on me. I asked the Lord for some help though, and He gave it - He is always faithful. Good teachers rarely know the impact they make. Already I have learned so much from them.

Quick detour: Interestingly enough, some of the best moments with professors come outside of class. I never had a chance to take a class from Richard Mitchell, but I wish I could have. He was known as "The Underground Grammarian." If you ever come across any of his books, they may give some insight into the current state of education in America, and therefore the current state of America itself. He died in 2002, and many students recorded their memories of him. Here is one of them:

"The class was early; I was late. I went into Dr. Mitchell's office after class. Mitchell looked up at me and said, 'You know right from wrong don't you?'
I replied, 'Yes.'
Mitchell said, 'Then do it.'
I miss him."

I don't know that I've had many teachers quite that abrupt in their interactions, but I've had some that have come close. Even with their own personality quirks, I've learned a lot from them. It's been said that you can learn something from everyone. I've been trying - it's hard, coming up against your own pig-headedness, but it's worth it. There are many things worth doing. So far I've found that there's always strength for worthy tasks, but usually the strength is given to us in the act of doing, not before.

What about us idealists, though, with our goals set higher than we've ever been? Is this too much to tackle?

"The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult, and left untried. " G. K. Chesterton

Tonight I am so tired. It's going to be a bit before it all calms down, and until then I can't afford to slow down. It feels like it's taking more than I have. Even with this mountain of work in front of me, I don't regret a minute of today.

I wish with all my heart that you will be able to look back on today with a sense of contentment and satisfaction, knowing that you've done what you could, some of what you couldn't, and lived with no excuses. I hope you can learn something too - so you can end today ahead of where you started out...

This picture is of a breakfast we ate outside our room in Johannesburg this last spring, on our way to Madagascar. We were completely wasted from traveling, jet-lagged and exhausted, but that was a good day. We did everything we could, left no stone unturned, and let no opportunity pass us by. In the world's eyes, we may not have accomplished much that day, but we knew better. We slept well that night, and not just because we were tired.

going postal

2005-12-01T20:23:00.000-05:00

Daniel, my roommate, has a book of stamps that he keeps in the drawer of things he doesn’t want to lose. I needed to send some mail today, so I asked if I could use some of his stamps. He said yes, and went to look in the special drawer. This drawer is quite full of things that have been placed there for safe keeping, and as a result the book of stamps was not to be found. I am not saying that he lost the stamps – they aren’t lost at all. We both know where they are. The book of stamps is in the special drawer. They are safe there. Nobody will take those stamps and use them – not even us. Daniel expressed his regret at not being able to access the stamps. I told him not to worry about it, that I would go buy some more.

At the post office, a lady was in front of me handing some mail to the clerk behind the counter. “They don’t live here,” she said. “Please don’t deliver any more of their mail to our house.”

The man took the envelopes from her without smiling. He never smiles. I see him almost every time I go to the post office, and never once have I seen him smile. He just kind of gives you a poker face and looks at you over his small glasses. Sometimes there’s a hint of a frown.

The lady turned toward the door, and as I stepped to the counter I heard her say, “Smile.” She was talking to the clerk, who didn’t look at her. I asked him for a book of stamps.

“Smile!” This time it was louder.

The man ignored her. She said it again.

“That’ll be $7.40,” he said to me.

As I took my wallet out, the lady approached the counter. “I want you to smile,” she told the man firmly.

“We call that harassment around here,” he replied without looking at her.

She stood with her mouth open, dumbfounded.

I gave the man a ten. “$7.40 out of ten…” he muttered.

The lady kept going. “What, because I told you to smile?” Was this ever going to stop?

“I want a smile from you!” Why didn’t she leave?

“That is harassment, and we don’t take it lightly.”

I was starting to feel uncomfortable, but she wasn’t finished. "Everyone should smile! You should smile!" No answer. “It’s Christian to smile! You should smile! God smiles more than He frowns!” She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t cooperate.

He gave me my change and ignored the lady some more.

I told the clerk to have a good one, and turned to leave. The lady had apparently decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore, and was walking to the door. I followed, ushering her out.

When we got outside, she turned to me. “He should smile – it’s Christian! Am I paranoid, or is he unreal?”

Maybe a bit of both, I thought to myself. I smiled at her and shrugged as I said, “Well, whatever happens, at least you can smile.”

“What is wrong with that man?” She huffed and shook her head, with her hands on her hips.

I reminded her that you never really know what might be going on beneath the surface.

“Well, he should smile!” She hadn’t been able to convince him that he should smile, but maybe she could convince me that he should smile.

I told her to have a nice day, and left.

I saw her getting into the passenger side of a minivan parked out front. I glanced at the driver, who I assume was her husband. He wasn’t smiling either.

This is the end of the story. If it had an epilogue, it would say that I now own a book of stamps, and was able to successfully mail my letters. I am smiling as I type, and I hope you are smiling you read. When I am done typing this, I am not going to put my stamps in a safe place, like the original book of stamps. I am not going to put them away anywhere. In fact, I am not going to care at all for this new book of stamps. I am going to leave it lying around any old place. Sure, someone might steal it, and we will never know exactly where it is, but we will always be able to find it.

fresh produce

2005-11-29T23:50:00.000-05:00

"This fine restless feeling

that makes it hard to sleep

has got me staring at the ceiling

counting my blessings instead of sheep..."

-Eric Bibb

I was lying in bed tonight thinking about my day, wondering what tomorrow would bring. I was thinking about how early I had to get up, and I remembered something I had heard once...

My friend Amy told me about a guy she knew in Norway who would wake up every day and exclaim, "At last, another new day!" That always made me laugh. I never met the guy, but I have to confess that he sounded like a fruit.

Who wakes up like that? I've woken up feeling fine, peaceful, and even happy, but I don't think I've ever woken up bursting with joy simply because it's another new day. More often than not, I wanted to put it off and sleep for another week at least. I've rolled over and turned my back on more days than I've ever greeted with open arms. Sure, I'd wake up excited about something that would happen that day, but that was likely joy of things or events and not joy of life. Not that I don't have joy of life - it has just typically come later in the day, as my sleep inertia wears off.

Today I woke up late, was almost late to class, and am currently swamped with more projects, reading, and research than ever. Of any day lately, this one should have been greeted with a scowl, but instead I woke up smiling, happy to be here. If I had remembered the words of our fair Norwegian friend, I would have shouted them aloud. That would at least have helped my roommate, who overslept more than I did.

Well, I'm heading to bed now, and just thought I'd share that with you. Hopefully you don't think I'm fruity now, but if you do, you could go and hang around the produce section at the grocery store, and maybe it'll rub off on you.

Morning is going to come soon, so I'm heading back to bed. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow I'll remember my line. "At last...!"

"He wakens me morning by morning,

wakens my ear to listen like one being taught."

Isa 50:4

on the road again

2005-11-28T11:43:00.000-05:00

(Sorry there aren't any pictures. My camera is packed. I’ll tell you a story, though. How’s that?)

I’m sitting at gate D2 at BWI waiting for my 6:00 am flight to Detroit. I’m trying to resist the urge to get up and join all the other people crowding around the gate waiting for their section to be called. They look like vultures from here. There is something about seeing them hovering around, tense and ready to jump in front of everyone else that makes me feel like I have to join them. But today is a day to sit back and relax. Besides, we’ll all be standing in the aisle in the plane anyway, behind the lady that somehow got three suitcases on board, any one of them large enough to hold a large microwave, and is now trying to find an overhead bin big enough or empty enough to hold all her baggage.

Flying used to be so exciting to me when I was younger. These last few years have had me flying all over the place, and getting on a plane seems more routine than getting on a bus. I enjoy the travel, but it has made me appreciate home more than I ever did. It’s always nice to go somewhere, but it’s almost always a little bit nicer to come back home. I’d have to say, though, that it would be a change at this point to use the bus, and I would rather not. Last time I took Greyhound was my senior year in High School when I just had to get from Tennessee to Washington State. I got on the bus excited, full of adventure, and got off the bus 66 hours later, sore and repentant.

I remember a few people in particular that I met on that trip. The first was Frank, an older gentleman who sat about the fourth row back on the left. The reason I remember this is that I sat about the fourth row back on the right. He didn’t seem to have the most satisfying life, so he may have had plenty of reasons for being ornery, but I couldn’t really figure out why he kept waking up during the middle of the night yelling and cussing at me, accusing me of breaking his leg and I don’t even know what else. He got off somewhere before Cheyenne. I remember that because a blizzard had us stuck there for a few hours and we all got to know each other pretty well. Nobody cussed me there.

The second was Ronnie, a Swedish photojournalist who was my traveling companion from the Mississippi to Salt Lake City. For the last few months, he had been all over the country on Greyhound with an unlimited 6-month pass or something like that. He was an outdoor enthusiast, and had been carrying all his gear with him. At one of his stops he had decided that his Mountain Hardwear duffel was asking to be stolen, so he put it inside a larger Patagonia duffel so it would look cheaper. The problem turns out to have been that not many people at that time were familiar enough with Mountain Hardwear to know to steal it, but Patagonia seems to have made it onto the must-have list. Somewhere in middle America, someone swiped his Patagonia-cheapened duffel with all $5,000 of his ice climbing gear in it.

Some girls sat behind us for a stretch, and Ronnie wanted to freshen up, so as to appear more attractive (the plaid pants and no-shower thing just weren’t working for him) so he went into the bathroom at a truck stop, soaped up his torso and put his shirt back on. I’m not sure what this accomplished, but it at least gave him more confidence with the ladies.

On the way back from Washington, the trip was fairly uneventful, with only the occasional scuffle and drug bust. There was one interesting exception, though. We pulled into the Kansas City station (which, I might add, was the nicest Greyhound station I have seen) in the early morning, and our driver checked out (they are only allowed to drive a certain number of hours, after which they take a break for 10 hours or so), but there was nobody to relieve him. We asked what we were supposed to do, and they said that we were supposed to wait patiently. The next bus was leaving the next morning. Would they pay for a hotel? They would not. Would they give us something to eat? A snack pack? Anything? No. Stop asking.

The story so far isn’t really unusual. Senseless delays happen more often than you might think. Here’s the fun part: I really wanted to get home, so I got together with two guys fresh out of the army, also anxious to get home, and started to look into options. Our next bus was going to leave from St Louis, about 250 miles away. Charter planes were a little steep, and there was no train available. Just before we gave up, I went out to the front steps of the bus station, where there were a bunch of cab drivers hanging around. I asked if anyone wanted to go to St Louis. Most laughed, but one guy thought about it a little. “I got some people in St. Louis,” he said. “I was going to visit them anyway.” He said he would take us for $180. So the three of us split it, each paying $60, and a few hours later, we pulled in to St. Louis an hour ahead of schedule.

I sat in the front and talked with the driver most of the way. We talked about what life was like for a High School student and a cab driver, and he shared some of his story. We found we had some history in common, having both grown up in a Christian environment. He said he hadn’t been to church in a long time, and didn’t think much about anything beyond his troubles. I said I thought it might be a good idea to give some of those troubles to the Lord and try visiting his old church again. He asked me, “What is it going to do for me if I go back to church? What is it going to do for my life? Will I get more taxi business?”

I didn’t really have a response for him. I just sat and thought. It hit me that I didn’t know what would really happen, because I didn’t have a real experience with God. What had it done for me? I didn’t even know. Looking back, I can see God’s hand in my life through that period, but at the time, I was basically a self-absorbed teenager, so I sat there and said nothing.

What would I say if that happened now? What about the peace I’ve found in God’s hands? What about the absence of worry from my life? What about the eternal security, what of the purpose and meaning? What about the ever-present help in trouble? The list is endless!

I’ve thought a lot about that driver. I was in St. Louis this summer, but I didn’t have a chance to get to the Greyhound station. If I had, would he have even been there? I can barely even remember what he looked like. I might just have to let that one go, but I wish I could live that moment over again. If he asked me that question now, I would definitely have an answer to give him.

Well, my flight is boarding. I wonder who I’ll meet this trip…

“Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.
For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death,
My eyes from tears,
My feet from stumbling,
That I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living.
How can I repay the Lord for all his goodness to me?”

Ps 116:7-9,12

a girl named boo

2005-11-25T02:12:00.000-05:00

It’s the closest I’ve ever come to being a real princess.

My family decided to have Christmas early this year, because my sister and brother-in-law are going to be with his parents in December. So we had a great big meal together (“¡Ay, qué montón de comida!”) which started at 6 and didn’t officially end until a little after 9. We didn’t eat the whole time, but the food was pretty spaced out. I am pleased to report that I didn’t eat too much, although there are some matronly figures in the family that wished I would have eaten more. Here is a picture of those motherly matrons, namely my mom and her sister, setting the table.

At any rate, in between the main course and dessert, we opened presents. While everyone got a few presents of their own, Arwyn (also called Boo) got the most by far. She actually got bored opening her presents. I got bored while that happened too. There's only so much excitement one can take. But before that happened, she got her first present, which was a big cardboard princess castle that Disney sent free with any purchase over $25. I might add that the purchase over $25 that made this all possible was a 5 volume DVD set all about princesses. The whole evening pretty much revolved around Arwyn with her pink princess castle, pink princess chair/throne, princess backpack, princess coloring book, princess markers, princess dolls, princess lunch box, princess water bottle, and of course a pink princess T-shirt. We were all obliged to be at her beck and call, but no one really protested, because she’s the princess.

Somehow or other I ended up inside the castle with her, and I was either a princess or a dragon or maybe even both. Then she wanted my aunt inside too, so by the time we got her in it was a near fiasco and the castle almost came down, at which point the three of us were inside laughing uncontrollably.

We topped dinner off with an absolutely fantastic strawberry-kiwi pie that Janelle made. Well done, sissy. And not only was it delicious, it was healthy, too. We have asked her to make another one.

Today has been great – it’s been Thanksgiving and Christmas all wrapped up in one, plus having a really great toddler running around helps make it even better. I am amazed at the gifts that God has given us, and how family is such a blessing. It makes me sad to think of times when I didn’t appreciate them as much as I should have, but I am set on living with as little loss as possible. I don’t want time to pass me by, so I’m drinking in all the time I can spend with those I love. Even if it means that I have to be a lady-in-waiting to princess Arwyn.

“He who fears the Lord has a secure fortress,
And for his children it will be a refuge.”
Prov 14:26

Arwyn wasn’t the only one to get cool presents this Thanksmas (just so we all don’t think that she actually is at the center of the universe). I got several gifts, including these socks that my Uncle and Aunt got for me in Alaska. I especially like the ones with the fish. I will wear them tomorrow.

non parlo italiano

2005-11-23T23:51:00.000-05:00

I’m sitting on the couch at my sister’s apartment in Maryland. Arwyn is sitting next to me watching TV and trying to ignore me. The cat is making it difficult for me to type, but it doesn’t usually love me, so I’m taking advantage of this. Usually Lewis (the cat) takes a swat at me and then walks away. If I follow, she swats again and then hisses.

It’s hard to pass up a good deal. On my way out of the ABC tonight, after buying some Tofutti Sour Supreme for the festivities tomorrow, I noticed that there was a silver PT Cruiser blocking my car. There were two slick looking individuals sitting in it, and the driver motioned like he wanted to talk to me. As I walked up to the car, I heard the other one tell him to speak to me in English. The driver asked me in a thick accent if I spoke Italian. I said no. He asked me if I spoke Spanish, and I said a little bit. So he continued in English. He asked me if I knew about Armani clothes, and said they had just been at a convention and were trying to get rid of some of their extra leather jackets. They were going back to Italy tomorrow, he said, and they didn’t want to take the jackets back with them and pay import taxes. He told me that if I bought one, he would give me all six. That’s a pretty good deal, even for leather jackets out of a car trunk. But it just wasn’t feeling like a black market day, so I said thank you, but I wouldn’t be able to buy any jackets from them. They scowled at me and drove away. I kind of wish I had asked them how much they wanted, but what in the world am I going to do with six Armani leather jackets, let alone just one?

on my way

2005-11-22T02:27:00.000-05:00

Well, this will have to be a short post. It’s late, and in the morning I’m heading out. I’m going to Maryland to spend Thanksgiving with la familia. But before I go, here’s some news and some random pictures for the faithful few that check in to see what’s changed. (this pic is of some flowers i saw in Madagascar. anybody know what they are?)

This last Sabbath I went hiking up behind the tubing hill (the one that is closed unless the official tubes are there – remember?), saw the fattest squirrel yet, surprised a deer, found a sapling that would make a really nice walking stick. Another good day.

Today the weather snapped again. I walked out of the house this morning with a long-sleeved tshirt on and was fine… in less than an hour I had my fleece and gloves and was wishing for my shell. Am I turning into a sissy? I don’t know. But it was cold. Don’t get me wrong – I like the cold, but not when I gots no insulation. My mom says I need to gain weight. That might help, but I’m not too keen on the idea. Speaking of my mom, Blogger has a help section on what to do if your mom finds your blog. Kind of an interesting thought. (this pic is of the lake up the road earlier this year. i wonder what it looks like in the winter...)

Today was also the day we took down the Chinese Pizza Hut. We loaded it up and hauled it to a big warehouse where it will sit for at least six months, maybe longer.

Someone asked me who the picture at the end of the last post is – it’s my niece Arwyn. Ain’t she cute?
(Yes)

“Morning’s never easy when the night’s so short…”

Tomorrow comes quickly. I’m going to throw some clothes in a bag and go to bed. I sure wish that a Taxi would pick me up in the morning and take me to the airport, but I’ll have to be my own Taxi this time. But in keeping with the spirit of the season, I'll just be thankful I have a cab at all!

I’ll post more soon – God bless!

“A heart at peace gives life to the body…” Pr 14:30

“I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.” Ps 119:32

first snow

2005-11-17T20:02:00.000-05:00

We just had our first snow. It’s kind of exciting in a way, but also kind of sad, because it means that fall has thrown in the towel. The leaves that once were so pretty are now in bags on the side of the road or are brown piles of mush under the snow. Today our high was about 30, and our low is supposed to be 14.

Our snow isn’t enough to do much with. You could scrape your car off to make one or two snowballs, but the snow is kind of dry and grainy, and so far has just been blown around a lot.

Now that its gotten a bit colder, I’m wearing gloves and a heavier fleece. I might even get a scarf if the wind keeps up. It’s nice to be back up north, where at least I know we’ll have snow. The only thing that would make this snow better is a fireplace. The closest thing I have to that is the electric baseboard heaters in the apartment. I am thankful for them, but they are not exactly cozy.

I had so much fun in the snow when I was little. Sometimes I was bundled up so much, I felt like the kid from A Christmas Story who told his mom, as she was getting him ready, “I can’t put my arms down!” I know how he felt, but I was willing to pay any price to go sledding.

There is a big sledding hill here behind the University. They have signs up that you can’t go down it unless it is officially "open," you use a University-approved tube and there are supervisors present. Fortunately nobody tried to regulate the sledding hills when I was growing up. The only thing I really remember about that is one of my sister’s friends yelling at me because I was trudging up the hill in the “down” part, and not the “up” part. Then I think one of them came down on a tube and creamed me before I could get out of the way. The big kid’s reaction made it clear that her main concern was the smoothness of the sledding run and not my well-being or even whether or not I had understood the sledding regulations. Such is life, I suppose.

When I was younger (or at least shorter), I always looked forward so much to the first snow. It signaled a change in life, a new fun time, the possibility of school snow days, and countless fun things to do. It changed everything, shaking us out of a crusty routine and out into a fresh, white world.

Children have such a great way of looking at the world, such a simple way of looking at complex things. Somehow the joy and exuberance seem to escape us when we are older and wiser. Does joy have to diminish with maturity and responsibility? It is easy to see why some people say that ignorance is bliss, but in reality, adult adherents to the tenets of ignorance are a sorry sight and generally not very enviable.

I think kids have us beat. The world is new to them. They don't worry because they haven’t realized that they need to. We know better, and we will teach them that when they are a little older. Until then, we will worry for them. Honestly, though, what can worry accomplish for us?

This morning, I had to get up much earlier than I wanted to. All my thoughts of the week and the worries of life were there beside my bed where I had left them the night before, waiting to be picked up and strapped on. But I got up and left them there, because I had heard it was going to snow…

It snowed all day long. People came into the building with snowballs, and during class, people just sat looking out the windows, watching the snowflakes blow around outside.

I came back home just now and saw all my worries still sitting there, but I decided to leave them alone—at least until the snow melts—because the rest of the world is new, and I don’t want to miss it.

"Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough troubles of its own."

Matthew 6:33,34

misc

2005-11-15T20:58:00.000-05:00

Here’s some miscellaneous happenings from the last few days.

Jeremiah

Well, Jeremiah comes over to do laundry every once in a while, and today was no exception. It all started when Walter wanted to come and do laundry, and Daniel told him to pay, and so now we run a coin laundry. We tell everyone to put some money in the sauerkraut can. I don’t know how much Jeremiah puts in there. One time someone put pennies in there. Both Daniel and I thought that was a little disrespectful, so we are planning to put a sticker on the can that says “this machine accepts only quarters.”
While his clothes are being laundered, Jeremiah joins me in doing homework, sitting on the couch. Ofttimes we will notice each other momentarily, and then return to our work.

Fusion

I haven’t played bass this much in a while. I met some of the local music gurus, and have been blessed with a lot of opportunity to play. I’m happy about that - especially because I bought a new bass this last summer, and a part of me was scared that I wouldn’t be able to play it too much. But it’s been more than worth it! This last Friday I got to play at Fusion, which is a once-a-month hoedown when all the normal fragmented vespers get together to celebrate diversity and unity all in one big throw-your-hands-in-the-air festival. They usually rock out pretty well at this program, and I was admittedly glad to be together with some more reserved players.

I got to help in a special music with 14 people – I’ve never been in such a big production for this type of song, but it went off pretty well. I had never seen some of them until the performance, because the strings and horns and singers all practiced separately. Here's a picture (they make me sit in the back).

The song we did was “You Are Holy,” from Isa 6:3 “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.” And Rev 5:13 “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” The song spoke of joining the creatures in heaven before God’s throne in singing praises to Him.

Audrey, who got the song together, led us in prayer before we played. We talked about the living creatures by the throne of God, and how they never stop praising God. Jesus promised that the pure in heart would see God (Mt 5:8). Joining the angels singing before God’s throne takes a pure heart.

Before we played, we took time in our group prayer for each person to ask God to search them, that they might be right with Him. Before I play, I usually take a minute to do that on my own, but this was the first time I’ve been in a group that has done that specifically. It was such a blessing! If you don’t have other people to pray with, I would suggest that you get some people to pray for and with you – it’s a blessing that isn’t worth missing for anything.

Watchman Nee

I’ve just started a new book (new to me at least), and I’m excited about it. It’s “The Normal Christian Life” by Watchman Nee. He lived in China, and for a long time was almost a symbol of Christianity under oppression. It's been wonderfully refreshing to see things anew from his perspective. Most of us haven’t had to fight for what we have. (Is that why so many today are willing to give up their freedoms?)

Anyway, here are the first two paragraphs – Let me know what you think:

What is the normal Christian life? We do well at the outset to ponder this question. The object of these studies is to show that it is something very different from the life of the average Christian. Indeed a consideration of the written word of God—of the Sermon on the Mount for example—should lead us to ask whether such a life has ever in fact been lived upon the earth, save only by the Son of God himself. But in that last saving clause lies immediately the answer to our question.

The apostle Paul gives us his own definition of the Christian life in Gal 2:20. It is “no longer I, but Christ.” Here he is not stating something special or peculiar—a high level of Christianity. He is, we believe, presenting God’s normal for a Christian, which can be summarized in the words: I live no longer, but Christ lives his life in me.

Here’s wishing you a normal day…

how to make a chinese pizza hut

2005-11-14T20:02:00.000-05:00

note: I hope the details about the construction aren't as confusing to read as they were to type. If you're not interested in hearing about it, you can either just look at the pictures, or skip to the end. Don't feel bad about not reading it - just think of it like a choose your own adventure, and enjoy.
note jr.: Sorry some of the pictures are out of focus. My camera has no focus or flash or features, and the viewfinder has a mind of its own.

Today was the start of the missions fair. We had planned on a few different structures, but there’s only so much you can do. Anyway, it turned out pretty well – and a part of me is just glad that its over! Here’s some pictures to let anyone who might be interested (I know that means my mom at least) what’s been keeping me from posting for the last few days.

Jon Weigley and I drew up some plans. Originally we wanted this asian looking thing, a hut, and a kind of cinderblock tin-roof building (you know exactly what I mean, anyone who has ever been on a mission trip and built a church/school/house), but time, money, and people wouldn’t allow for it, so we just decided to do the pagoda. That at least is what we call it, even though I’m aware its not actually a pagoda.

It was challenging trying to find a way to build the roof, because of the curve in it, and I didn’t know how to make the tiles. But Bob in the woodshop suggested some cardboard tubes they use for pouring concrete post anchors, and they worked. I picked them up at Lowe’s, and woodshop Bob ran them through his table saw for me, and cut them lengthwise into thirds. Then we chopped those into 9-inch shingles, and painted them.

We used 1x2s to make supports to screw the shingles on to, and attached those to plywood triangles that were cut with the right curvature. 1x2s are great. You can do anything with plywood too. I am a firm believer. Well maybe not anything. Though I can’t immediately think of a list of things you can’t do with plywood, I’m sure there are many. Like make Jell-O Jigglers. There, I thought of one.

Weeell, we screwed all the bottom shingles on, spaced all the rows out, and then put the top ones on. once we started to put the shingles on, it started to resemble our drawings. It was looking more and more like a Chinese restaurant by the moment, and boy howdy was I excited.

I got some 2” foam insulation and cut some pieces out of it to line the top of the roof and the ridges on the front. We painted those with primer and then used spray paint. I wish we would have done a second basecoat on those, because the spray paint still ate through the foam in some places. It was kind of a pain getting all the shingles along the diagonal roof ridges screwed on in place, because in many cases there was no brace to attach them to. Under the shingles it’s a complete mess of split wood and stripped screws, but on the outside it looked fine in the end, which is what mattered anyway.

We painted the bottom green, put some yellow rafter-looking whatchamajiggers on the bottom, threw it in the back of Jesse’s brother in law’s truck (which has a five-foot bed. Honestly, what can you do with a five foot truck bed? Nothing. Put my mom in there maybe, because she’s five feet tall, but I wouldn’t want to do that anyway. So still nothing, except use it to move an old recliner or a big TV, which is still not useful unless you’re taking either of those things to the dump. But not to be negative – it is a very nice five-foot bed, and does a fair job of giving the observer the impression that it is in fact a real truck.) and took it to the school.

At this point I was just hoping it wouldn’t fall out of the truck and wind up busted in the ditch in the rain (anyone remember the baggage claim fiasco?) but thankfully nothing of that sort happened. We got there, hauled it in the student center, losing only two shingles in the process, and set it up. Then the SM people set up their Marshall Island stuff under it, and somehow an Egyptian Pharaoh-looking statue ended up by it too. So I don’t know where we thought we were in the world, but it looked fine. Someone said it was “fly,” so I guess that means my job is done.

It was fun, and I kind of can’t wait until the next project (which is our kitchen table), but man, am I glad it’s done. I’m wasted. Its not even 8:00 and I’m thinking about going to bed. Good thing this is the last week before Thanksgiving. Which is a good thing to end on. For lack of a better segue, I am thankful for so many things. Not only for you, the reader, who make me feel loved when you leave comments, but also for chances to do fun projects like this. But that’s just the start of the list. Isn’t it great to have a national holiday of thankfulness? I can’t wait. I wish everyone a good night – I am going to rinse the sawdust out of my hair, brush it out of my teeth and go to bed.

And by the way, we decided the pagoda looked more like a Chinese Pizza Hut than anything else. You be the judge.

confessions of an ex heretic

2005-11-10T22:19:00.000-05:00

Not long ago (two posts to be exact) I shared my deeply rooted conviction that goats are not tragic. I have never known goats to exhibit any kind of emotion except maybe being crabby and unsociable, both of which could be tied to distemper, but neither of which could be tied to tragedy. But once again, I have spoken too soon.

Amanda corrected my position concerning goats and tragedy, and I’m posting it here so everyone can share in the discussion. I hope that’s fine with you, Amanda. We all need to learn from this. She writes:

"I had a pet goat once.
Our parsonage in Jellico (TN) was perched on the side of Indian Mountain. The pastor before us flipped his riding lawn mower and it took about 8 hours to mow without one. Quite a dilemma.
So some church members suggested getting a goat; they thought it would eat the grass, thus keeping it short. They happened to have one that they were willing to loan us.
I couldn't decide whether to name it Matilda or Minnie Mouse. I loved that goat. Unfortunately, it ate our flowers, shrubbery, and trees, but it was picky - it wouldn't touch the grass.
.
So Matilda's time with us was short-lived. We gave her back to her owners after a few weeks.
.
The next day she was struck by lightning and died.
.
Don't tell me goats aren't tragic.”
.
.
.
.

And so, no longer being able to support my stance on the non-tragedy of goats, and having been so thoroughly refuted, I recant.

My apologies and condolences to those who knew and loved Matilda.

home

2005-11-07T22:50:00.000-05:00

I’ve never been so excited to go home. I decided last minute on Thursday afternoon to go home for the weekend. I left at 11:45 that night and drove straight through. Almost hit a deer going 75 (I was going 75, not the deer), but thank the Lord I missed it. I got home about just before 9 am, took a shower and went to the school to see some of my professors from last year and hang out in Campus Minsitries. I surprised my parents when they came home from work. I was talking to my mom on the phone and walked into their bedroom. She just about fell off the bed, she was so surprised. That made the whole trip worth it right there.

I spent that evening sitting in front of the fireplace reading and writing, and talking with my parents. It felt so good to be there, especially with the warm fire. Also, I got some home cooked food. Here’s a picture of some delicious rice and beans my mom made. It’s out of focus, but even so, when compared to what I’ve been eating lately, I think you would agree that it looks 100 times better. Unless of course you are for some reason enamored with oatmeal, which I am not.

Sara Groves’ song “Just showed up for my own life” makes me say, Yeah, I’ve felt that way before. It can be easy to slip into such a routine that life passes you by… I’ve heard parents wish they had spent more time with their kids, who “grew up so suddenly.” I’ve regretted not spending more quality time with people I love. I’ve seen so many people so absorbed in worries that they miss everything going on around them. Don’t they realize that the sun is out, the leaves are beautiful, the temperature is perfect, and there is the chance for a complete new start from this moment on? I know that people are often weighed down with worries, and when trouble comes, we need to think about it and give it some attention, but there are many of us who simply make this a way of life. When was the last time we listed everything good about our lives? I suppose that’s counting your blessings, but in a more real way. There are many questions that I wish I had the answers to now. I never get any mail, unless “current resident” means me. I have a lot of work to do this week, books to read, papers to write, projects to finish, and countless things in the world that I wish were different -- But there is so much to be thankful for, there is so much to enjoy! There are so many opportunities to bless and help others, which in itself makes life more worth it. Today I’m going to try to look for those opportunities… I’m going to try to find some new wonderful things about my life and the people around me. Should be fun!

“And I just showed up for my own life
And I’m standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright.”

every hour on the hour

2005-11-03T20:08:00.000-05:00

7:00 Still sleeping. 8:30 class is canceled today.

8:00 Woke up, hit the snooze.

9:00 Took a nice shower

10:00 Sitting in Church Leadership and Administration class… (here’s a picture of my teacher – a good guy) So far today I’ve learned that round or semi-round tables are better for meetings and fostering a good team spirit because when you have a meeting around a table shaped like that, “group can happen." Another thing I’ve learned this morning is that one of the results of empowering people is that “effectiveness will be multiplied.” Do they mean “increased,” or does that mean that now we have “effectivenesses?” I have learned many fantastic things today, the last of which is that when you empower people, they will unleash creativity. Who/what is Creativity and why is he/she tied up? And when we unleash him/her will he/she run away? Do we want to unleash Creativity or just take him/her/it for a walk? What if he/she/it runs out in the road?
So in summary, Leadership is when the right shaped table enables group to happen, which leads to effectivenesses, which in turn allow the newly empowered (electric?) people to let creativity run free in the hopes he/she/it doesn’t get run over by a UPS truck.
Learning about the new land of Leadership is a lot like what I’m sure it must have been like for the citizens of Genoa to hear about the exploits of daring explorers. Leadership is indeed a whole new world (and I think it is largely undiscovered), and the few reports coming back to us from across the sea are unsettling at best. I just hope they don’t massacre the natives. I still have many questions to ask them.

11:00 outside taking pictures of the fall colors – and a tree that I’ve always thought looks a lot like a wooly mammoth (see? He’s facing to the left, and his trunk is hanging down to the ground). This weather is absolutely incredible. It’s got to be almost 70 out right now, and the air is so clean! Breathing deeply really feels like it’s cleaning me out inside - this said with apologies to our friends in Prague. But to be honest with you, the air on the streets in Madagascar is ten times worse. Sitting in a taxi, with 17 markets on your left that specialize in bringing you the freshest, highest quality rotten meat daily, and the exhaust pipe of a truck 6 inches in diameter (the pipe, not the truck) two feet away from your open window on the other side, with a driver who smells like a combination of the two next to you, will help one to be even more thankful for days like this…

12:00 at home working on the computer, getting ready for class, too hungry to think about cooking for lunch.

1:00 Sitting in Pentateuch class. This class has been so great. The things I’ve been learning about God and the way He cares for us and acts in our lives – and this just from the grammar of the Hebrew text – amazing!

2:00 Arranging my class schedule – picking all my classes is pretty exciting to me. I have 11 elective credits, so I could basically take a whole semester of nothing but fun.

3:00 In a meeting with the director of the MDiv program here chatting about South Africa and our good times in the motherland.

4:00 My meeting with Jesse at the warehouse was cancelled because his wife gave birth this morning, so I decided to go home and check on things there. On the way I saw some kids playing in an enormous pile of leaves, so I stopped and played with them for a while. Two of them were from Moldova, so I said everything I knew in Russian, and they laughed. They tried to guess how old I was, and they said 19. Life is good. (sorry Maranatha)

5:00 Stopped by AFM headquarters to enlist their help for the missions expo. I think they’re in! Amen! Now to build that pagoda…

6:00 Talked to Tina on the phone. As promised, here is her ill-fated yet glorious tale: Hers is a tragic yet heroic story. She is such a tragic heroine. Her heroic tragedy will serve to inspire generations. The tragedy is that she chopped off the tip of her left index finger with a very sharp knife that she and her husband had been excited to purchase. Alas, the very source of her excitement proved the instrument of her demise. Quite tragic. But her heroism is as courageous as her tragedy is calamitous. Since she had not severed quite enough to re-attached, she choked back the tears and bandaged the finger up, ready to meet the future, abbreviated yet unafraid. Quite heroic.
She is a prince of a woman, if there ever was one.

On a side note, for some reason the word “tragic” has as its root the Greek word for “goat.” This is confusing to me because goats are, as anyone can tell you, anything but tragic.

7:00 Time to do the dishes. I just ate supper and used the last clean spoon. Today isn’t over, but so far I’ve been awake for almost 12 hours. It’s been a good 12 hours. There have been some thoughts and questions in the back of my mind, but I have decided not to worry. A day without worry is absolutely golden. I think I’ll do it tomorrow too.
“When I think back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which never happened.” —Winston Churchill

“Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

a package deal

2005-11-03T12:03:00.000-05:00

I’ve been made painfully aware lately of my own flawed heart, and I was feeling kind of discouraged. I’ve been reading through Hebrews, and for the last couple weeks I’ve been in chapter 11. Until now, I had just kind of breezed through it, not taking much time. Reading through that long list of people who obeyed and did wonderful things for God made me feel smaller and smaller, and brought to light more and more in me that needs to change. Being surrounded “cloud of witnesses” like that would make me, I have to confess, want to go hide. Then I realize that I am in fact surrounded by them.

Then I read about how God disciplines His sons. Well, there are times that I certainly feel disciplined, but I don’t really feel like a son. (But in a way I think I’ve been learning that the reason that all those people are in chapter 11 is because they didn’t necessarily go with their feelings!) But then I noticed that 12:5 calls this a word of encouragement. Discipline is supposed to be encouraging? “…do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves…” God is so kind and patient with us! And now today I am both disciplined and encouraged – because with God they both come in one package – and I’ll take it, and I love it.

halloween special

2005-11-02T22:36:00.000-05:00

Ahh, fall. Sweater weather. It’s been a long time! I haven’t lived in a place that really has fall since I was in Massachusetts. But now, fall is back! There is an orchard down the road that we get cider from, and there are hayrides. What is better than that?

Halloween was canceled two nights ago. I saw some little goblins next door just before I pulled the shades and turned the lights out. When I went out to get some Chinese food, the whole 20-minute drive was spent dodging trick-or-treaters. It was especially hard because it started raining – the roads were shiny, no lights, rain everywhere, and all the kiddies were wearing black witch robes and anything else that was dark and sinister.
Why don’t parents dress their child up as something bright and shiny, or at least reflective? I don’t mean a torch (Someone once said, “Give a man a fire and he’ll be warm for a day – Set a man on fire and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.” That is not what I mean at all.), but more along the lines of a glowing – well, a glowing anything would be good.

Well, the rain continued for the rest of the evening, which was good, because we didn’t have anything to hand out to trick-or-treaters. Not that I really wanted to hand out candy or anything… and I can’t say I was all that sad to see Halloween rained out anyway. Something about a holiday where we dress up our kids as demons and gremlins is a little off. Unless, of course, you dress them up as a frog and they look as cute as my niece. But of course that only applies to the costume, not the holiday...

Halloween is one of the more bizarre holidays, if you think about the history. Especially for a society that goes to church on Christmas and Easter (at least). Maybe we’re just hedging our bets – a little Christian charm, a little pagan prevention, and it’ll most likely turn out alright.

On a more positive note, I’m trying to figure out how to build a pagoda. Well, not a real pagoda, but a reasonably passable make-believe mock-up for the upcoming Missions Expo here at Andrews. The Student Missions program here has been somewhat languishing (there are 13 out this year), and I’m helping the people in Campus Ministries try to spice it up a bit. It really is amazing – Dwight Nelson made a call a few weeks ago for students to give their next year to serving God, and over 60 responded! So now we’re really trying to pull out all the stops for the missions expo. Please pray for us, that it will work out, that many students will respond, and that those that committed will stay strong. I can’t wait to see how it works out.