I've had friends who were choked by the expectations and needs of others.
The hands reaching out in the names of "Love" and "Care" grappling for the throat. With every move toward individuality the hands tighten their grasp, wanting only to keep things as they are. Impulsive reaction causes conformity. Act to please, talk to please, and live to please. The situation does not change.
The ruse is not difficult at first. Surely moments can be found to be one's self away from the grip. This cannot last for long. Things will change. Right?
No. Identity is formed in the mold of hands clasped tight. Life goes on dying. Conformity is accepted. This is the way things are.
Time becomes restless. At the least relaxation of the knuckle, drastic release is found. Change. Find Change! Where is it? All of it. Any of it. RUN!
Who is this? Do I know you? I remember you, but something is different; something the size of everything.
"Love" only wanted to keep safe. Was "Care" not trying to protect? Each holding tight to comfort and defend. Now one is left far away and the other right behind. Both reaching; believing they give.
Far gone. Lost in the abyss of freedom. Staying away from hands. Hands hurt. Love? Love cuts and scars. Care? Care comes with a great price. Nothing good is free, and there is nothing left to give. What can be had for nothing? This looks good.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Saturday, December 06, 2008
God's Love...Priceless
Well, that settles it. I finished my last day of classes for this term. All I have left is finals. These finals will determine the actual resting place of my grades for the term, but for the most part everything is already determined.
I made it. Everything didn't fall apart. I'm still alive, and all the projects are done. All the assignments are completed. I wouldn't say that relief rushed over me like an ocean swell. Instead I would describe it as sitting down in a comfortable chair with my feet propped up in front of a warm fire and sipping from a delicious mug of hot chocolate. It feels so good, and it has been a long time coming.
Yes, there is still a lot to do before the term is completely over and I can go home. There are finals to take. There are performances yet to come. In the midst of that, however, I can't help but see all that God has guided me through these last few months and melt in amazement and wonder at His power, planning and patience in my life.
A lot of times we talk about God's love and we describe it by talking about how He saved us from sin and death. This is a great example. Jesus even said that the greatest form of love would drive a person to go as far as to give up his life for a friend. (Which brings up another point of how great God's love is that He would lay down His life for people who were his enemies.) But I think we sometimes forget that God's love extends far beyond a salvation experience.
Our God didn't just die to give us a "get out of jail free" card and send us on our way until we die and end up at his gates. We have a God who cares about every aspect of our lives. We have a God who is concerned with our futures (not just the ultimate future of heaven or hell). This God cares about our worries and our struggles. He wants us to be successful in this life.
"Wait a minute! Did he just say that? Isn't this the guy who wrote a paper on the heresy of the name-it-and-claim-it gospel?" When I say that God wants us to be successful I don't mean it in the way the world measures success. I mean that God wants us to be able to come to the end of our lives on this earth having fought the good fight and triumphed.
Got wants us to be successful, and he knows that for us to be successful in this life we must be completely dependent on Him. That's why He can't just hand us success on a silver platter. He has to give us opportunity to see the potential for failure so that we will understand the power of His provision.
God has done so much for me over the years. I'm sure there is a lot of His work that I may never even know about, but there is so much that I have seen Him do. This term is no exception. There is no reason why everything should have happened as well as it did. None of it makes sense. Yet it happened. It all came together in a way that I could never plan.
Only He could have done it all. But why? Why would He do all that for me? I can tell you straight out, it isn't because I am anyone of particular importance. I am no perfect person or sinless saint. I made plenty of mistakes this term. All I can figure is that God wants me to be here, and He knows that I am incapable of success on my own. He loves me, and wants me to learn to trust Him at all time for all things.
I made it. Everything didn't fall apart. I'm still alive, and all the projects are done. All the assignments are completed. I wouldn't say that relief rushed over me like an ocean swell. Instead I would describe it as sitting down in a comfortable chair with my feet propped up in front of a warm fire and sipping from a delicious mug of hot chocolate. It feels so good, and it has been a long time coming.
Yes, there is still a lot to do before the term is completely over and I can go home. There are finals to take. There are performances yet to come. In the midst of that, however, I can't help but see all that God has guided me through these last few months and melt in amazement and wonder at His power, planning and patience in my life.
A lot of times we talk about God's love and we describe it by talking about how He saved us from sin and death. This is a great example. Jesus even said that the greatest form of love would drive a person to go as far as to give up his life for a friend. (Which brings up another point of how great God's love is that He would lay down His life for people who were his enemies.) But I think we sometimes forget that God's love extends far beyond a salvation experience.
Our God didn't just die to give us a "get out of jail free" card and send us on our way until we die and end up at his gates. We have a God who cares about every aspect of our lives. We have a God who is concerned with our futures (not just the ultimate future of heaven or hell). This God cares about our worries and our struggles. He wants us to be successful in this life.
"Wait a minute! Did he just say that? Isn't this the guy who wrote a paper on the heresy of the name-it-and-claim-it gospel?" When I say that God wants us to be successful I don't mean it in the way the world measures success. I mean that God wants us to be able to come to the end of our lives on this earth having fought the good fight and triumphed.
Got wants us to be successful, and he knows that for us to be successful in this life we must be completely dependent on Him. That's why He can't just hand us success on a silver platter. He has to give us opportunity to see the potential for failure so that we will understand the power of His provision.
God has done so much for me over the years. I'm sure there is a lot of His work that I may never even know about, but there is so much that I have seen Him do. This term is no exception. There is no reason why everything should have happened as well as it did. None of it makes sense. Yet it happened. It all came together in a way that I could never plan.
Only He could have done it all. But why? Why would He do all that for me? I can tell you straight out, it isn't because I am anyone of particular importance. I am no perfect person or sinless saint. I made plenty of mistakes this term. All I can figure is that God wants me to be here, and He knows that I am incapable of success on my own. He loves me, and wants me to learn to trust Him at all time for all things.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
It's A Wonderful Strife
It's that time of year again. The time that comes twice a year, really. The time of year when I get this overshadowing feeling; the feeling that I am just about to fail every-last-one of my classes.
It happens every term. (Not failing classes, just the feeling that I'm going to fail classes.)
I have yet to fail a single class (though I have, in the past received in a class a grade that was insufficient for my major). At this stage of the game I can't afford any mess-ups. I can't take classes again. This is my last shot, and it feels like I'm going to lose.
But, again, it always feels like I'm going to lose.
It may be true that there are some areas in which I could have done much better. There are some assignments that just did not get done. There are some things that I plum didn't get to in time. It's all these little things that make me feel like everything is going to fall apart.
It is also true that there are some areas in which I have done a wonderful job. There are things I have done this term to a degree that I never would have thought possible for me. I have achieved much. I have learned much. I have grown much.
But I feel like an athlete who waited too long into the season to get things together. I am finally able to perform well, but the team has already taken too many loses. There is now no way I will make it even as far as the semi-finals. It may or may not be true, but that's how I feel.
I've come to it again. It's that time of year. It comes only twice a year, and here it is.
So, what do I do? What can I possibly do?
I keep working. I work hard. I work until I can do no more. And I trust.
I trust in Jehovah; in Jehovah-jireh (Lord will provide); in Jehovah-shalom (Lord is peace).
I repent of my laziness. I trust in the Lord. I do my best in service to Him.
If I am to succeed, it will be the Lords doing. If I am to fail, I know that I can rest in the Lord's direction for my life.
I am not dead yet. Until I am dead there will always be opportunity on this earth to serve my Lord until He comes.
Maranatha!
(Our Lord Comes!)
It happens every term. (Not failing classes, just the feeling that I'm going to fail classes.)
I have yet to fail a single class (though I have, in the past received in a class a grade that was insufficient for my major). At this stage of the game I can't afford any mess-ups. I can't take classes again. This is my last shot, and it feels like I'm going to lose.
But, again, it always feels like I'm going to lose.
It may be true that there are some areas in which I could have done much better. There are some assignments that just did not get done. There are some things that I plum didn't get to in time. It's all these little things that make me feel like everything is going to fall apart.
It is also true that there are some areas in which I have done a wonderful job. There are things I have done this term to a degree that I never would have thought possible for me. I have achieved much. I have learned much. I have grown much.
But I feel like an athlete who waited too long into the season to get things together. I am finally able to perform well, but the team has already taken too many loses. There is now no way I will make it even as far as the semi-finals. It may or may not be true, but that's how I feel.
I've come to it again. It's that time of year. It comes only twice a year, and here it is.
So, what do I do? What can I possibly do?
I keep working. I work hard. I work until I can do no more. And I trust.
I trust in Jehovah; in Jehovah-jireh (Lord will provide); in Jehovah-shalom (Lord is peace).
I repent of my laziness. I trust in the Lord. I do my best in service to Him.
If I am to succeed, it will be the Lords doing. If I am to fail, I know that I can rest in the Lord's direction for my life.
I am not dead yet. Until I am dead there will always be opportunity on this earth to serve my Lord until He comes.
Maranatha!
(Our Lord Comes!)
Saturday, November 01, 2008
The Question
The question is this:
Why am I here?
In other words, why am I at Corban College studying music education?
I've already explained why I am at Corban. That is taken care of.
But why Music Education? Why would I be taking on the largest and possibly most challenging major that this school offers? (If you don't believe it is those things, then you haven't seen our class schedules.)
So why would I subject myself to this?
I can tell you why other people do it. The education program on its own is difficult. The music program on its own is difficult. Yet there are so many of these people. I could tell you why many of these people willingly subject themselves to such rigorous trials.
A few of the key reasons are as follows:
"Ever since I was little I have wanted to be a teacher."
"I had a teacher in high school who inspired/challenged me, and I want to do the same for other kids."
"I like the idea of having summers off."
All noble goals, to be sure. Well, maybe not the "summers off", but they will learn soon enough.
There is nothing wrong with many of the reasons people have for wanting to be a teacher. These just aren't my reasons. The fact of the matter is this:
I never wanted to teach other people's kids. I don't think I'm cut out for it. I haven't had any aspirations since I was a kid, let alone the desire to be a teacher. I had some excellent teachers in high school, but they didn't inspire me to become a teacher. I would love to have summers off, but that doesn't mean that teaching is for me.
And it's not like teaching is "the only thing I'm good at." Not to sound conceited, but there are so many things I could do, and do well. I am by no means limited in my abilities and options.
So why am I here? Why am I doing this?
That is the question.
The answer is quite simple:
Because He who is greater wants me to.
Because the Father of lights, from whom all good and perfect gifts come, has given me this charge; this challenge.
I knew before that God had given me a concern for the youth. And I knew before that God had given me a great gifting in the area of music. I knew that I was to be involved with young people in a way that involved music. I simply had no idea in what way or form this involvement was to take place. Then the summer before my sophomore year it hit me. It was exactly what people had been telling me over and over.
Teach.
Suddenly all the riddles made sense. Suddenly it all fell into place. This was it. This was what it all meant. I knew what I had to do.
So I am here.
I hold no expectation of success. It is not my belief that all will go right.
All I know right now is that this is where God wants me...for now.
Tomorrow everything could change. Next year God could have me in another place.
Does that mean that this is all for loss. No. Never!
This is where God wants me, and so this has purpose. God does not work without reason.
Whatever God's purpose is in all this--be it for me to teach high school choir till the day I die, or be it for me to be able to encourage other students here on campus now--that purpose is worth pursuing. Even if His purpose leads to my perceived failure...or worse, my perceived success--even so, it is well worth the privilege of walking with Him day by day down this long and difficult path.
So the question is no longer "why am I here?"
Now the question is, what would the Lord have me do today?
Why am I here?
In other words, why am I at Corban College studying music education?
I've already explained why I am at Corban. That is taken care of.
But why Music Education? Why would I be taking on the largest and possibly most challenging major that this school offers? (If you don't believe it is those things, then you haven't seen our class schedules.)
So why would I subject myself to this?
I can tell you why other people do it. The education program on its own is difficult. The music program on its own is difficult. Yet there are so many of these people. I could tell you why many of these people willingly subject themselves to such rigorous trials.
A few of the key reasons are as follows:
"Ever since I was little I have wanted to be a teacher."
"I had a teacher in high school who inspired/challenged me, and I want to do the same for other kids."
"I like the idea of having summers off."
All noble goals, to be sure. Well, maybe not the "summers off", but they will learn soon enough.
There is nothing wrong with many of the reasons people have for wanting to be a teacher. These just aren't my reasons. The fact of the matter is this:
I never wanted to teach other people's kids. I don't think I'm cut out for it. I haven't had any aspirations since I was a kid, let alone the desire to be a teacher. I had some excellent teachers in high school, but they didn't inspire me to become a teacher. I would love to have summers off, but that doesn't mean that teaching is for me.
And it's not like teaching is "the only thing I'm good at." Not to sound conceited, but there are so many things I could do, and do well. I am by no means limited in my abilities and options.
So why am I here? Why am I doing this?
That is the question.
The answer is quite simple:
Because He who is greater wants me to.
Because the Father of lights, from whom all good and perfect gifts come, has given me this charge; this challenge.
I knew before that God had given me a concern for the youth. And I knew before that God had given me a great gifting in the area of music. I knew that I was to be involved with young people in a way that involved music. I simply had no idea in what way or form this involvement was to take place. Then the summer before my sophomore year it hit me. It was exactly what people had been telling me over and over.
Teach.
Suddenly all the riddles made sense. Suddenly it all fell into place. This was it. This was what it all meant. I knew what I had to do.
So I am here.
I hold no expectation of success. It is not my belief that all will go right.
All I know right now is that this is where God wants me...for now.
Tomorrow everything could change. Next year God could have me in another place.
Does that mean that this is all for loss. No. Never!
This is where God wants me, and so this has purpose. God does not work without reason.
Whatever God's purpose is in all this--be it for me to teach high school choir till the day I die, or be it for me to be able to encourage other students here on campus now--that purpose is worth pursuing. Even if His purpose leads to my perceived failure...or worse, my perceived success--even so, it is well worth the privilege of walking with Him day by day down this long and difficult path.
So the question is no longer "why am I here?"
Now the question is, what would the Lord have me do today?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
"I'm A Poet, And I Didn't Even Comprehend It"
I've let it slip.
I've let it fall away.
Down into the dark corners.
Down into the great abyss.
Down into the forgotten realm.
How can I find it?
Where can I find it?
How can I find it again?
It was not so long ago that I held it.
It was only a little while ago that I held it tight.
I may never know what happened.
I may never know how.
I may never know why it fell.
All I know is that it is gone--
all the way,
the whole way,
all the way down.
No match,
No flashlight,
No floodlight would help.
If it is to be found, I will have to search.
If it is to be found, I will have to crawl.
If it is to be found, I will have to find it.
In the dark.
In the abyss.
In the forgotten realm.
Don't worry everyone. I'm just practicing. It doesn't mean anything...*shifty eyes*...or does it...
The interesting thing is that this kind of writing isn't so different from some of the techniques used by the Psalmists. Well, except that I don't use them very well, but that's mostly because I have not idea what I'm doing.
These ideas of repetition, of rephrasing, and of image development are used in the Psalms. My music history teacher gave me some brilliant insight to the purpose for such techniques. The way she explained it makes so much sense.
Anyone who has studied a second language--to any extent--has discovered that hardly anything translates directly. There are some times more, some times less words in a language. There are different grammatical arrangements from language to language. Add this to the fact that a rhyme in one language is not in the least bit likely to come out as a rhyme in another language, and you might have a problem if you are the ruler of the universe trying to write poetry that will be understood by all peoples for all time.
So what does God do?
He writes his poetry through a people who don't use rhyme. These people write poetry through concept development, through imagery development, through repetition and restatement. It is a rhyme of thoughts, of ideas, of images. This is something that translates into any language. It doesn't have to rhyme in the ear, because it rhymes in the mind.
Psalm 1
Blessed is the man who does not
walk in the council of the wicked,
stand in the way of sinners,
nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on His law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
which yields its fruit in season,
and whose leaf never whithers.
Whatever he does prospers.
Not so, the wicked.
They are like chaff
which the wind blows away.
Therefore, the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked shall perish.
Can you see it? Such poetry. Such wisdom. It is a strong image. God doesn't hold back. He puts everything out there, and just in case you missed it the first time, He says it again only in a different way. If the image is a little fuzzy, if you aren't quite sure about what He's trying to say, if there is some doubt as to whether or not He means it, He paints the picture clearer and in bolder colors that declare emphatic certainty of the message he is trying to convey.
I've let it fall away.
Down into the dark corners.
Down into the great abyss.
Down into the forgotten realm.
How can I find it?
Where can I find it?
How can I find it again?
It was not so long ago that I held it.
It was only a little while ago that I held it tight.
I may never know what happened.
I may never know how.
I may never know why it fell.
All I know is that it is gone--
all the way,
the whole way,
all the way down.
No match,
No flashlight,
No floodlight would help.
If it is to be found, I will have to search.
If it is to be found, I will have to crawl.
If it is to be found, I will have to find it.
In the dark.
In the abyss.
In the forgotten realm.
Don't worry everyone. I'm just practicing. It doesn't mean anything...*shifty eyes*...or does it...
The interesting thing is that this kind of writing isn't so different from some of the techniques used by the Psalmists. Well, except that I don't use them very well, but that's mostly because I have not idea what I'm doing.
These ideas of repetition, of rephrasing, and of image development are used in the Psalms. My music history teacher gave me some brilliant insight to the purpose for such techniques. The way she explained it makes so much sense.
Anyone who has studied a second language--to any extent--has discovered that hardly anything translates directly. There are some times more, some times less words in a language. There are different grammatical arrangements from language to language. Add this to the fact that a rhyme in one language is not in the least bit likely to come out as a rhyme in another language, and you might have a problem if you are the ruler of the universe trying to write poetry that will be understood by all peoples for all time.
So what does God do?
He writes his poetry through a people who don't use rhyme. These people write poetry through concept development, through imagery development, through repetition and restatement. It is a rhyme of thoughts, of ideas, of images. This is something that translates into any language. It doesn't have to rhyme in the ear, because it rhymes in the mind.
Psalm 1
Blessed is the man who does not
walk in the council of the wicked,
stand in the way of sinners,
nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on His law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
which yields its fruit in season,
and whose leaf never whithers.
Whatever he does prospers.
Not so, the wicked.
They are like chaff
which the wind blows away.
Therefore, the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked shall perish.
Can you see it? Such poetry. Such wisdom. It is a strong image. God doesn't hold back. He puts everything out there, and just in case you missed it the first time, He says it again only in a different way. If the image is a little fuzzy, if you aren't quite sure about what He's trying to say, if there is some doubt as to whether or not He means it, He paints the picture clearer and in bolder colors that declare emphatic certainty of the message he is trying to convey.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Mexico: Day 5
Most of the team was in good spirits this morning after our wonderful venture to Mazatlan the day before. Okay, to be honest, I think a lot of people were tired of working after getting the taste of relaxation on the beach. In fact Jimmy didn't even get up for breakfast.
Jay hadn't slept well--he was comin' down with something not good. Audrey was still on the mend, though she was doing better than the previous day.
We put in some more work on the wheelchair ramp. There was also a group of us working on the new trampoline. They had to set it up and then pour and mold concrete bases to keep the trampoline from walking away in the middle of the night.
Another project that we had going was the construction of some "football" goal posts. For you American readers you would understand them to be "soccer" goal posts. We made them out of tires, concrete, and PVC pipe. I should probably note (because if anyone else from the team reads this, they will bring it up anyway) that when I cut the PVC pipe, I cut it about a foot off. So there is a taller set and a shorter set of goal posts. I won't go into the details of how I managed to goof it up so much. Just know that right after I had made the error I realized how I had messed up and felt very silly for having made such a simple mistake. The rest of the team won't let me live it down, of course, but that's okay. It gives us something to laugh at for years to come.
Jay hadn't slept well--he was comin' down with something not good. Audrey was still on the mend, though she was doing better than the previous day.
We put in some more work on the wheelchair ramp. There was also a group of us working on the new trampoline. They had to set it up and then pour and mold concrete bases to keep the trampoline from walking away in the middle of the night.
Another project that we had going was the construction of some "football" goal posts. For you American readers you would understand them to be "soccer" goal posts. We made them out of tires, concrete, and PVC pipe. I should probably note (because if anyone else from the team reads this, they will bring it up anyway) that when I cut the PVC pipe, I cut it about a foot off. So there is a taller set and a shorter set of goal posts. I won't go into the details of how I managed to goof it up so much. Just know that right after I had made the error I realized how I had messed up and felt very silly for having made such a simple mistake. The rest of the team won't let me live it down, of course, but that's okay. It gives us something to laugh at for years to come.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Mexico: Day 4
It was a usual morning in Mexico. Loud birds, cereal for breakfast, and off to work.
It was not, however, our usual day. There were two major differences, the first one being that one of our team members had become very sick.
It was the youngest member in fact--Audrey. We weren't sure what it was at the time, but it was heat sickness. She hadn't been drinking enough water, and it was just too hot for her. So all that night she had been feeling terrible and she wasn't able to keep food down. It was just bad.
Audrey's parents took her into Mazatlan to see the doctor, so they were gone all that morning while we worked. When they did get back it was just in time for lunch, and just in time to inform us of the situation and let us know that they would not be going with us on our planned venture into Mazatlan that afternoon.
That is the other major difference concerning this particular day--we only worked half the day, and took the rest to go to the beach and see the city.
We were sad to be leaving part of our team behind, but away we went. Most of us rode in a kind of taxi that they have down there. I'm not sure what they call it, but it is basically a truck with an open, yet covered back with benches. It was really interesting. No seat-belts, no nothin'. You just sit out in the open and watch the scenery as it goes by. It was a really fun way to see the Mexican country side as well as the city.
When we pulled in on the golden road--that is the American touristy section of Mazatlan--we were dropped off right in front of McDonalds. We split up at that point. Most of the group went straight to the beach while Roger, Kelly and I went for a walk to see what kind of wares the vendors had. I was a little surprised to discover that for the most part everyone was selling the same things, and I mean the exact same things. I suppose that shouldn't be too surprising considering you see a lot of that in the touristy areas of the U.S., but in the U.S. all the shops aren't this close together.
After we had walked around for a while, and Kelly had found what she was looking for, we decided to join the others on the beach. At first it took us a little while to find the way into the beach. The beach is heavily blocked off by a solid line of stores and buildings. There is, however, a designated passageway onto the beach, and of course it is lined with more stores (just in case you forgot something you might need on the beach--like some fine jewelry.
We had to walk a while before finding the rest of the group, and as we were walking we had several salesmen ask us if we wanted to go para-sailing, boating, or take a tour of stone island. There were also countless other sales-men and women walking along the beach selling the exact same things as were in most of the stores. You could sit in one place getting a tan and purchase anything from a fruit drink to clothes to jewelry.
The crazy thing is, even though there were tons of people, and half of them were salesmen, the beach and the ocean looked amazing. It was a beautiful scene.
When we did finally catch up with the others most of them were out playing in the water. So, Kelly began to settle in while Roger and I just stood around. I didn't feel like getting wet that day. Before long Roger and I were back out on the streets, seeing what other stores we could find. During our little walk we found some air conditioned stores (a wonderful marketing tactic in Mexico), we were offered an audience with some strippers as well as a few more tours of Stone island, and we passed the local Dairy Queen. In Mexico you don't have to look hard to find whatever you want (unless you are looking for a solid purple bag that says "Mazatlan" on it, which is what Roger was never able to find for his daughter), usually if you walk far enough someone else will find it for you and try to sell it to you. I don't know why they don't have door to door salesmen...oh, wait...they do. There is a guy who delivers purified water every day, as well as a guy who delivers tortillas every day, as well as other guys who deliver all kinds of other things periodically.
Well, eventually we ended up back on the beach (after having attained a Mcflurry, of course). My feet were burning, so I moved up into the seating at Joe's Oyster Bar. I just sat there for about an hour until it was time for everyone to meet up for dinner. The shade was nice, the view of the beach was wonderful, and the book I had was entertaining (Spanish/English Dictionary: hours of good wholesome fun).
For dinner we all went to Pancho's. We had decided on the upstairs, indoor seating because it was air-conditioned. Of course, once we were inside the nice cool room some people started complaining about it being too cold. I tell ya', some people just can't handle Mexico.
I was feeling adventurous, so I ordered the Mexican platter. It had a little bit of everything, and it was delicious. During the meal I also--by invitation--speared a piece of calamari as well as a chunk of snail (we didn't know it was snail at the time) from my neighbor's dish. I don't know what it is, but something about living in another country opened up my mind to trying a lot of different kinds of food. There was one exception, however. I decided against trying the complimentary Kahlua & cream. Sure it was just a small glass, and it was legal, but I just don't mess with the alcohol. It's that simple. I mean, how much of a cultural experience can it be? My friend back home has offered me Kahlua & cream several times. Big woop.
After dinner it was getting close to time to head back to El Castillo. Most of us decided to ride in the van on the way back, so it was just Roger, Ed, Danny and myself in the back of the truck this time (though I might be forgetting someone).
When we returned we learned that Audrey and Debbie had been sleeping in one of the only air-conditioned rooms in the orphanage all day. Everyone was pretty tired, so the ladies went straight to bed. The guys decided to do something a little different from the previous nights. Instead of sitting out in the flies and singing, we met in our room and talked about some of the things we had been thinking about and noticing from our experience so far in Mexico. It ended up being a really cool discussion.
After talking we all went to bed. I think most of us slept well that night. I know for a fact, however, that some of us didn't. But that's a story for the next day.
It was not, however, our usual day. There were two major differences, the first one being that one of our team members had become very sick.
It was the youngest member in fact--Audrey. We weren't sure what it was at the time, but it was heat sickness. She hadn't been drinking enough water, and it was just too hot for her. So all that night she had been feeling terrible and she wasn't able to keep food down. It was just bad.
Audrey's parents took her into Mazatlan to see the doctor, so they were gone all that morning while we worked. When they did get back it was just in time for lunch, and just in time to inform us of the situation and let us know that they would not be going with us on our planned venture into Mazatlan that afternoon.
That is the other major difference concerning this particular day--we only worked half the day, and took the rest to go to the beach and see the city.
We were sad to be leaving part of our team behind, but away we went. Most of us rode in a kind of taxi that they have down there. I'm not sure what they call it, but it is basically a truck with an open, yet covered back with benches. It was really interesting. No seat-belts, no nothin'. You just sit out in the open and watch the scenery as it goes by. It was a really fun way to see the Mexican country side as well as the city.
When we pulled in on the golden road--that is the American touristy section of Mazatlan--we were dropped off right in front of McDonalds. We split up at that point. Most of the group went straight to the beach while Roger, Kelly and I went for a walk to see what kind of wares the vendors had. I was a little surprised to discover that for the most part everyone was selling the same things, and I mean the exact same things. I suppose that shouldn't be too surprising considering you see a lot of that in the touristy areas of the U.S., but in the U.S. all the shops aren't this close together.
After we had walked around for a while, and Kelly had found what she was looking for, we decided to join the others on the beach. At first it took us a little while to find the way into the beach. The beach is heavily blocked off by a solid line of stores and buildings. There is, however, a designated passageway onto the beach, and of course it is lined with more stores (just in case you forgot something you might need on the beach--like some fine jewelry.
We had to walk a while before finding the rest of the group, and as we were walking we had several salesmen ask us if we wanted to go para-sailing, boating, or take a tour of stone island. There were also countless other sales-men and women walking along the beach selling the exact same things as were in most of the stores. You could sit in one place getting a tan and purchase anything from a fruit drink to clothes to jewelry.
The crazy thing is, even though there were tons of people, and half of them were salesmen, the beach and the ocean looked amazing. It was a beautiful scene.
When we did finally catch up with the others most of them were out playing in the water. So, Kelly began to settle in while Roger and I just stood around. I didn't feel like getting wet that day. Before long Roger and I were back out on the streets, seeing what other stores we could find. During our little walk we found some air conditioned stores (a wonderful marketing tactic in Mexico), we were offered an audience with some strippers as well as a few more tours of Stone island, and we passed the local Dairy Queen. In Mexico you don't have to look hard to find whatever you want (unless you are looking for a solid purple bag that says "Mazatlan" on it, which is what Roger was never able to find for his daughter), usually if you walk far enough someone else will find it for you and try to sell it to you. I don't know why they don't have door to door salesmen...oh, wait...they do. There is a guy who delivers purified water every day, as well as a guy who delivers tortillas every day, as well as other guys who deliver all kinds of other things periodically.
Well, eventually we ended up back on the beach (after having attained a Mcflurry, of course). My feet were burning, so I moved up into the seating at Joe's Oyster Bar. I just sat there for about an hour until it was time for everyone to meet up for dinner. The shade was nice, the view of the beach was wonderful, and the book I had was entertaining (Spanish/English Dictionary: hours of good wholesome fun).
For dinner we all went to Pancho's. We had decided on the upstairs, indoor seating because it was air-conditioned. Of course, once we were inside the nice cool room some people started complaining about it being too cold. I tell ya', some people just can't handle Mexico.
I was feeling adventurous, so I ordered the Mexican platter. It had a little bit of everything, and it was delicious. During the meal I also--by invitation--speared a piece of calamari as well as a chunk of snail (we didn't know it was snail at the time) from my neighbor's dish. I don't know what it is, but something about living in another country opened up my mind to trying a lot of different kinds of food. There was one exception, however. I decided against trying the complimentary Kahlua & cream. Sure it was just a small glass, and it was legal, but I just don't mess with the alcohol. It's that simple. I mean, how much of a cultural experience can it be? My friend back home has offered me Kahlua & cream several times. Big woop.
After dinner it was getting close to time to head back to El Castillo. Most of us decided to ride in the van on the way back, so it was just Roger, Ed, Danny and myself in the back of the truck this time (though I might be forgetting someone).
When we returned we learned that Audrey and Debbie had been sleeping in one of the only air-conditioned rooms in the orphanage all day. Everyone was pretty tired, so the ladies went straight to bed. The guys decided to do something a little different from the previous nights. Instead of sitting out in the flies and singing, we met in our room and talked about some of the things we had been thinking about and noticing from our experience so far in Mexico. It ended up being a really cool discussion.
After talking we all went to bed. I think most of us slept well that night. I know for a fact, however, that some of us didn't. But that's a story for the next day.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Mexico: Day 3
It was a Thursday morning. I woke to the sound of my bunk mate getting ready for the day. As for myself, I wasn't particularly ready to get a start on the day. In my opinion it would have been nice to catch a couple more Z's. However, as it was every morning in Mexico, once your awake, you stay awake. Who could sleep with all those birds sounding off just outside the window anyway?
I had slept a little better than I did the night before. At least this time when I woke up I didn't start brushing my sheets to get rid of any imaginary bugs. I had woken up several times, however. Enough times to get a good look at the late night lightning show.
Eventually I decided it was time to get up.
Every morning was pretty much the same thing. So I'll try to keep from repeating it in such detail every day.
We had breakfast, and got going on our projects. Today we didn't work on any bicycles for very long. But during the brief time that Jimmy, Clayton and I were working on bikes Juan decided to come see what we were doing.
Juan is a 16 year old boy who looks like he is 9. He was so completely and utterly neglected by his parents when he was born that the only way he survived was from the generosity of a neighbor who would sneak food in to him. This nutritional deficiency is the reason his body wasn't able to develop normally. When he first came to the orphanage he wasn't even able to walk because no one had every taught him how.
You would think that such a history would make a person bitter, or angry, or upset with the world, but Juan is anything but. He is such a happy and joyful child, you wouldn't ever think that he had such a rough start. Juan is walking now. In fact, he's not only walking, he is jumping, running, climbing, and doing everything else that kids do, including causing just a little bit of trouble. And that's just what he did while we were working on the bikes.
We were trying to get the brakes to work on a particular bike when Juan came over. He sat down next to Jimmy and watched as we worked. Before long Juan reached down and took the cap off of the bike tire. He held it up and gave us a mischievous look so that we would know he was causing some trouble. Juan then proceeded to deflate the bicycle tire from which he had removed the cap. We all thought it was pretty funny, but just to toy with him I said "Juan es mal", which means "Juan is bad." To which he responded "No, bien", which means "No, good."
We went back and forth for a little while with "No, mal" and "No, bien" until Jimmy decided to join in the fun by deflating the tire. Juan got a kick out of this and pointed at Jimmy ever so emphatically with a look on his face that said "HE DID IT!"
By the end of the whole escapade there had been a few more mal's and bien's thrown around and everyone was having a laugh. This incident then set up a precedent for the rest of the week when Juan would keep calling me "Mallo" which means "bad guy."
When I wasn't working on bicycles I helped out with the other projects that were going on. As I recall, I spent most of the day mixing up concrete for the ramp. We made a lot of concrete over the week. In all, we must have gone through anywhere between 12 and 20 bags of cement mix (but if I am in error, then I am erring on the short side). Every bag of cement mix would make 4 to 5 wheelbarrow loads of concrete.
I forgot to mention that it was this day that several of the children left for a three day camping trip. This is why Caesar wasn't around while we were working on the bikes.
As the day had begun, so the day ended. That is to say, every night and every morning was pretty much the same as every other night and every other morning. Dinner, singing, and then sleep. Such was life in Mexico.
I had slept a little better than I did the night before. At least this time when I woke up I didn't start brushing my sheets to get rid of any imaginary bugs. I had woken up several times, however. Enough times to get a good look at the late night lightning show.
Eventually I decided it was time to get up.
Every morning was pretty much the same thing. So I'll try to keep from repeating it in such detail every day.
We had breakfast, and got going on our projects. Today we didn't work on any bicycles for very long. But during the brief time that Jimmy, Clayton and I were working on bikes Juan decided to come see what we were doing.
Juan is a 16 year old boy who looks like he is 9. He was so completely and utterly neglected by his parents when he was born that the only way he survived was from the generosity of a neighbor who would sneak food in to him. This nutritional deficiency is the reason his body wasn't able to develop normally. When he first came to the orphanage he wasn't even able to walk because no one had every taught him how.
You would think that such a history would make a person bitter, or angry, or upset with the world, but Juan is anything but. He is such a happy and joyful child, you wouldn't ever think that he had such a rough start. Juan is walking now. In fact, he's not only walking, he is jumping, running, climbing, and doing everything else that kids do, including causing just a little bit of trouble. And that's just what he did while we were working on the bikes.
We were trying to get the brakes to work on a particular bike when Juan came over. He sat down next to Jimmy and watched as we worked. Before long Juan reached down and took the cap off of the bike tire. He held it up and gave us a mischievous look so that we would know he was causing some trouble. Juan then proceeded to deflate the bicycle tire from which he had removed the cap. We all thought it was pretty funny, but just to toy with him I said "Juan es mal", which means "Juan is bad." To which he responded "No, bien", which means "No, good."
We went back and forth for a little while with "No, mal" and "No, bien" until Jimmy decided to join in the fun by deflating the tire. Juan got a kick out of this and pointed at Jimmy ever so emphatically with a look on his face that said "HE DID IT!"
By the end of the whole escapade there had been a few more mal's and bien's thrown around and everyone was having a laugh. This incident then set up a precedent for the rest of the week when Juan would keep calling me "Mallo" which means "bad guy."
When I wasn't working on bicycles I helped out with the other projects that were going on. As I recall, I spent most of the day mixing up concrete for the ramp. We made a lot of concrete over the week. In all, we must have gone through anywhere between 12 and 20 bags of cement mix (but if I am in error, then I am erring on the short side). Every bag of cement mix would make 4 to 5 wheelbarrow loads of concrete.
I forgot to mention that it was this day that several of the children left for a three day camping trip. This is why Caesar wasn't around while we were working on the bikes.
As the day had begun, so the day ended. That is to say, every night and every morning was pretty much the same as every other night and every other morning. Dinner, singing, and then sleep. Such was life in Mexico.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Mexico: Day 2
After a long night of sleep (that was frequently interrupted by my waking up and frantically brushing imaginary bugs off of my bed) I woke to sunlight shining though the window, and the sound of birds singing...really loud birds...a lot of them. There had been a great deal of lightning that night, though I couldn't hear the thunder--either because it was really far away, or because the crickets were really loud, I'm not sure which. It had also rained and thereby cooled off the area enough that I actually unfolded my "pillow" (my hoodie) and laid it over top of me.
I probably got up some time around 7 to 7:30--some time close to the crack of dawn anyway. The interesting thing that I noticed during my time in Mexico is that most of the time I had no idea what time it was, and it didn't really matter. The only times I would pay attention to the time were when I wanted to know how long it was till lunch or dinner. Other than that, who cares. I don't know when I went to sleep each night, and I have no idea when I got up in the mornings. However, I do know that in both cases--morning and night--sleeping and waking occurred very consistently around the same time every day.
So the morning began. As I have already mentioned, Ed walked to the nearby store to get milk and fruit for breakfast, and this particular morning a few of us--including myself--joined him in this venture.
The shop was a small building about the size of two dorm rooms (in Warner Pacific measurements it would be 4 dorm rooms). There were a lot of familiar things there, though most of them had different names and packaging shapes. While I was standing around looking at various things I felt something touch the back of my heel. I'll admit it startled me because my first thought was 'large insect, or scorpion'. When I turned around, however, I discovered that it was only the cold, wet nose of a small dog.
Upon our return Ed began promptly to get things set out for breakfast. A lot of the cereal was very familiar--coco puffs, Cheerios, Cinnamon squares, and more--but again, they all had different names. We also had a can of peach halves every morning, as well as some pastry or bread, and juice. I guess it was the picturesque "part of this complete breakfast" you always see on cereal commercials.
After breakfast it was time to start working. Clayton and I went straight to work on the bicycles. There were several bikes that were in bad condition, as well as a storage room of bicycle parts to work with. We did what we could with what we had, but usually our efforts ended with the realization that there was some key element that we were not able to fix.
While we were working on our first bike the sky began to precipitate on us (it started to rain). At first it was just like an Oregon sprinkle, so we moved our operation into the tool shed. Before too long we were really glad we had moved, because suddenly it started coming down by the bucket-loads. It was ridiculous. The rain probably went on like that for about 30-45 minutes. Most of the rest of the crew had to stop working on their projects unless they were already working inside.
We worked on bicycles most of the day. The hardest part was probably when Caesar (Say-zar), one of the kids, would try to show us what to do and what was wrong with the bikes. There were times when he was right, but he was just getting in the way, or he would try to tell me something that I already knew. And then there were times when he would try to explain something to me when I had already figured out that the problem was really something else. All in all, though, I couldn't help but appreciate his enthusiasm, and what mechanical understanding he displayed. He kept telling me "un momento" so that I would step back for a moment and let him do his work. I quickly learned from this technique and was able to use it later to get him to step back for a moment so that I could do my work. It's all about communication.
Of course lunch and dinner were both amazing and delicious. Our dinner dessert was flan. I'm not sure what flan is, but I ate it. It wasn't too bad. It was very sweet, so I wasn't able to finish it, but that's okay.
After dinner we all sat around talking and hanging out. Eventually I went and got my guitar. We sang some songs until we couldn't stand the flies any more, then off to bed we went.
I probably got up some time around 7 to 7:30--some time close to the crack of dawn anyway. The interesting thing that I noticed during my time in Mexico is that most of the time I had no idea what time it was, and it didn't really matter. The only times I would pay attention to the time were when I wanted to know how long it was till lunch or dinner. Other than that, who cares. I don't know when I went to sleep each night, and I have no idea when I got up in the mornings. However, I do know that in both cases--morning and night--sleeping and waking occurred very consistently around the same time every day.
So the morning began. As I have already mentioned, Ed walked to the nearby store to get milk and fruit for breakfast, and this particular morning a few of us--including myself--joined him in this venture.
The shop was a small building about the size of two dorm rooms (in Warner Pacific measurements it would be 4 dorm rooms). There were a lot of familiar things there, though most of them had different names and packaging shapes. While I was standing around looking at various things I felt something touch the back of my heel. I'll admit it startled me because my first thought was 'large insect, or scorpion'. When I turned around, however, I discovered that it was only the cold, wet nose of a small dog.
Upon our return Ed began promptly to get things set out for breakfast. A lot of the cereal was very familiar--coco puffs, Cheerios, Cinnamon squares, and more--but again, they all had different names. We also had a can of peach halves every morning, as well as some pastry or bread, and juice. I guess it was the picturesque "part of this complete breakfast" you always see on cereal commercials.
After breakfast it was time to start working. Clayton and I went straight to work on the bicycles. There were several bikes that were in bad condition, as well as a storage room of bicycle parts to work with. We did what we could with what we had, but usually our efforts ended with the realization that there was some key element that we were not able to fix.
While we were working on our first bike the sky began to precipitate on us (it started to rain). At first it was just like an Oregon sprinkle, so we moved our operation into the tool shed. Before too long we were really glad we had moved, because suddenly it started coming down by the bucket-loads. It was ridiculous. The rain probably went on like that for about 30-45 minutes. Most of the rest of the crew had to stop working on their projects unless they were already working inside.
We worked on bicycles most of the day. The hardest part was probably when Caesar (Say-zar), one of the kids, would try to show us what to do and what was wrong with the bikes. There were times when he was right, but he was just getting in the way, or he would try to tell me something that I already knew. And then there were times when he would try to explain something to me when I had already figured out that the problem was really something else. All in all, though, I couldn't help but appreciate his enthusiasm, and what mechanical understanding he displayed. He kept telling me "un momento" so that I would step back for a moment and let him do his work. I quickly learned from this technique and was able to use it later to get him to step back for a moment so that I could do my work. It's all about communication.
Of course lunch and dinner were both amazing and delicious. Our dinner dessert was flan. I'm not sure what flan is, but I ate it. It wasn't too bad. It was very sweet, so I wasn't able to finish it, but that's okay.
After dinner we all sat around talking and hanging out. Eventually I went and got my guitar. We sang some songs until we couldn't stand the flies any more, then off to bed we went.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Mexico Trip: Day 1
3:15 AM
Wake up to get ready for departure to Mexico.
4:15 AM
My ride arrives and I wish my parents farewell.
4:30 AM
The majority of the team going to Mexico gathers are Estacada Christian Church.
4:45 AM
Head out to PDX.
Long story short, the first day was an early morning with a flight from Portland to LA (2 hours), and then from LA to Mazatlan Mexico (3 hours, with a 1 hour time zone change). We arrive in Mexico at around 4:30ish PM
But let's back up a bit.
We spent a lot of time in LAX because our flights were so spaced out. During this time we experienced an earth quake, met up with the last member of our team (he came from Texas), stood around, sat around and lazed around for several hours. Can you say team bonding time?
We were a fairly interesting group: two and a half families with three extra stragglers.
Randy and Carrie were the ones who spear headed the whole trip. They had been down to El Castillo before with their two children, Jimmy (14) and Jessica (12ish?). Now the whole family was making the trip again.
Next we had Jay and Debbie. Jay is a full blooded Mexican, and did what he could as our interpreter. They also brought their two children along, Clayton (12) and Audry (10ish?).
Debbie's dad was the one who met us in LA. Danny Danger is what we called him, but "Dan Leffingwell" was the name that came over the PA system while we were standing around in the LA airport. We hadn't even been together as a whole group for a day and Jay had already pulled his first prank on Danny. He got the gate attendants to tell Danny that he had checked in too late and was going to be bumped from the flight. Danny handled it pretty well, and we all thought it was funny.
Then you have Kelly and her son Jared (14?).
And, finally, Roger and myself.
13 Characters in all, and what characters we were.
So we land in Mazatlan and step out on to the tarmac on our way to customs. A quick flash of the passport and visa paperwork, a short trip to pick up our luggage and we are then put through the brief rigmarole of scanning the luggage and presenting more paperwork. It's at this point that you push a button that is supposed to randomly select people to have their luggage searched. You push the button and it turns on either a green light, or a red light. I was glad to get a green. Kelly and Jared were not so lucky. It didn't take very long for there suitcases to be searched, and in the mean time most everyone else was just around the corner exchanging some currency for Mexican pesos.
It was at this point that we met up with our "guide" of sorts. Ed (or "Edwardo" as we called him) is a guy who works for the organization that runs the orphanage and he helps direct the work that the groups like ours do when they come down. With him was Eric. Eric and his wife completely ran the orphanage by themselves for two years before they were able to get more help. Since then his wife has moved back to the states indefinitely due to the overload of stress, and Eric has been working toward being around the orphanage less and less.
Once Kelly and Jared had caught up and had a chance to exchange some of their own money we all made our way out to a big 15 passenger van with a luggage rack on top. We loaded up and away we went.
After picking up a couple bags of ice at the El Castillo "super market" we pulled up to the orphanage. Our living quarters and dining area were just across the dirt road from the orphanage, so as we were unloading our things we were able to get a great look at the arch of the gateway to the orphanage that read "Rancho De Los Niños", which means Ranch of the children. Sounds like a reasonable description.
We took a little bit of time to get settled in before dinner. I don't know much about the girls quarters, but the guys had four bunks (which was the exact number we needed), a sink with running water and two mirrors hanging over it, two toilets, and two showers. The only way to get a warm showers would be to hang a solar bag outside, but had been busted some time before we got there. Most of us didn't mind taking cold showers though, what with the heat and all.
Oh, didn't I mention the heat? I guess not. You might find this hard to believe, but it is HOT in Mexico. We didn't even sleep with blankets on our beds. Some people didn't even want to sleep with a mattress underneath them.
And of course you have to also consider the humidity. I always used to think that Oregon was a humid place. I had been to California before, so I had an idea of what a dry heat was. But I had no idea that it could get so humid as it was in El Castillo. Even if a guy stands absolutely still for a while he would end up with a moist t-shirt.
Our eating/gathering area was basically a large concrete patio with a roof over top. It was swarming with flies the entire eight days we were there. In one corner we had the water (bottled of course. We can't drink the tap water without ill effect). In the opposite corner we had the coffee maker. In a third corner we kept all the eating supplies (cups, bowls, plates, plastic ware). Every morning before breakfast Ed would walk to a nearby store to get milk for the cereal and some fruit. We had cereal for breakfast every morning which was okay for most people, though Jay didn't ever have any because he is lactose intolerant. Our lunch and dinner would always be made by a lady who lives just down the street from the orphanage. I thought for sure that there would come a meal that I wouldn't have an appreciation for, but it never happened. Monica made meal after meal of some of the best food I have ever had. It was absolutely amazing.
I can't remember what each individual meal was, but I know that the first night we had as dessert a kind of pancake with apples. I would have had seconds of every meal if it weren't for the fact that the food was so filling.
After our first dinner we took a quick tour of the orphanage and looked at the various projects we were going to be working on throughout the week. The place looks nothing like what you would think an orphanage would look like. It was more of a foster home appearance. Because that's what it was. It was a home. It was a home with a lot of rooms, but it was a home.
Out back they have a ginormous playground made out of concrete. There are basically 3 towers, each with two levels and an area underneath. There is a ramp going from the back door straight up to the first tower. From the first tower there is a concrete platform going to the next tower, and then a wood and rope bridge traversing the gap between the second and third towers.
Once the tour was over we returned to our gathering area and talked and sang some songs before heading off to bed. Day one was complete, and we were ready for things to really begin.
Wake up to get ready for departure to Mexico.
4:15 AM
My ride arrives and I wish my parents farewell.
4:30 AM
The majority of the team going to Mexico gathers are Estacada Christian Church.
4:45 AM
Head out to PDX.
Long story short, the first day was an early morning with a flight from Portland to LA (2 hours), and then from LA to Mazatlan Mexico (3 hours, with a 1 hour time zone change). We arrive in Mexico at around 4:30ish PM
But let's back up a bit.
We spent a lot of time in LAX because our flights were so spaced out. During this time we experienced an earth quake, met up with the last member of our team (he came from Texas), stood around, sat around and lazed around for several hours. Can you say team bonding time?
We were a fairly interesting group: two and a half families with three extra stragglers.
Randy and Carrie were the ones who spear headed the whole trip. They had been down to El Castillo before with their two children, Jimmy (14) and Jessica (12ish?). Now the whole family was making the trip again.
Next we had Jay and Debbie. Jay is a full blooded Mexican, and did what he could as our interpreter. They also brought their two children along, Clayton (12) and Audry (10ish?).
Debbie's dad was the one who met us in LA. Danny Danger is what we called him, but "Dan Leffingwell" was the name that came over the PA system while we were standing around in the LA airport. We hadn't even been together as a whole group for a day and Jay had already pulled his first prank on Danny. He got the gate attendants to tell Danny that he had checked in too late and was going to be bumped from the flight. Danny handled it pretty well, and we all thought it was funny.
Then you have Kelly and her son Jared (14?).
And, finally, Roger and myself.
13 Characters in all, and what characters we were.
So we land in Mazatlan and step out on to the tarmac on our way to customs. A quick flash of the passport and visa paperwork, a short trip to pick up our luggage and we are then put through the brief rigmarole of scanning the luggage and presenting more paperwork. It's at this point that you push a button that is supposed to randomly select people to have their luggage searched. You push the button and it turns on either a green light, or a red light. I was glad to get a green. Kelly and Jared were not so lucky. It didn't take very long for there suitcases to be searched, and in the mean time most everyone else was just around the corner exchanging some currency for Mexican pesos.
It was at this point that we met up with our "guide" of sorts. Ed (or "Edwardo" as we called him) is a guy who works for the organization that runs the orphanage and he helps direct the work that the groups like ours do when they come down. With him was Eric. Eric and his wife completely ran the orphanage by themselves for two years before they were able to get more help. Since then his wife has moved back to the states indefinitely due to the overload of stress, and Eric has been working toward being around the orphanage less and less.
Once Kelly and Jared had caught up and had a chance to exchange some of their own money we all made our way out to a big 15 passenger van with a luggage rack on top. We loaded up and away we went.
After picking up a couple bags of ice at the El Castillo "super market" we pulled up to the orphanage. Our living quarters and dining area were just across the dirt road from the orphanage, so as we were unloading our things we were able to get a great look at the arch of the gateway to the orphanage that read "Rancho De Los Niños", which means Ranch of the children. Sounds like a reasonable description.
We took a little bit of time to get settled in before dinner. I don't know much about the girls quarters, but the guys had four bunks (which was the exact number we needed), a sink with running water and two mirrors hanging over it, two toilets, and two showers. The only way to get a warm showers would be to hang a solar bag outside, but had been busted some time before we got there. Most of us didn't mind taking cold showers though, what with the heat and all.
Oh, didn't I mention the heat? I guess not. You might find this hard to believe, but it is HOT in Mexico. We didn't even sleep with blankets on our beds. Some people didn't even want to sleep with a mattress underneath them.
And of course you have to also consider the humidity. I always used to think that Oregon was a humid place. I had been to California before, so I had an idea of what a dry heat was. But I had no idea that it could get so humid as it was in El Castillo. Even if a guy stands absolutely still for a while he would end up with a moist t-shirt.
Our eating/gathering area was basically a large concrete patio with a roof over top. It was swarming with flies the entire eight days we were there. In one corner we had the water (bottled of course. We can't drink the tap water without ill effect). In the opposite corner we had the coffee maker. In a third corner we kept all the eating supplies (cups, bowls, plates, plastic ware). Every morning before breakfast Ed would walk to a nearby store to get milk for the cereal and some fruit. We had cereal for breakfast every morning which was okay for most people, though Jay didn't ever have any because he is lactose intolerant. Our lunch and dinner would always be made by a lady who lives just down the street from the orphanage. I thought for sure that there would come a meal that I wouldn't have an appreciation for, but it never happened. Monica made meal after meal of some of the best food I have ever had. It was absolutely amazing.
I can't remember what each individual meal was, but I know that the first night we had as dessert a kind of pancake with apples. I would have had seconds of every meal if it weren't for the fact that the food was so filling.
After our first dinner we took a quick tour of the orphanage and looked at the various projects we were going to be working on throughout the week. The place looks nothing like what you would think an orphanage would look like. It was more of a foster home appearance. Because that's what it was. It was a home. It was a home with a lot of rooms, but it was a home.
Out back they have a ginormous playground made out of concrete. There are basically 3 towers, each with two levels and an area underneath. There is a ramp going from the back door straight up to the first tower. From the first tower there is a concrete platform going to the next tower, and then a wood and rope bridge traversing the gap between the second and third towers.
Once the tour was over we returned to our gathering area and talked and sang some songs before heading off to bed. Day one was complete, and we were ready for things to really begin.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Long Time Coming
Oh! Hello... Ha-have you been standing there long? I didn't even see you there. I'm sorry. Well, I suppose I should get things going. This has been a long time in coming. Here we go.
Day 42: It was a long and arduous journey finding our way through the bog. Two men were lost--dragged under by the bog orts--creatures that live in the very ground of the bog waiting for some poor straggling animal (or man) to come by for dinner. Prior to these last few days the bog orts were believed to be nothing but children's stories, designed to keep kids from wandering into the bog. In the future we shall know better, for the loss of those two men weighs heavy on us all.
But there is nothing for it. We must continue on, and so we shall.
It is good to finally have rid ourselves of the bog after being lost in its haze and stench for so long. Spirits began lifting even as we first set foot back on solid ground.
We now set our gaze forward with eager anticipation...and a wary eye.
Anyway, Life is going pretty well. Work has been enjoyable as always--in its own weird sort of way. Tomorrow I'm heading home for the weekend. My friend is graduating, and he insists that I be there--to the point that he is driving down to get me, and then taking me back on Sunday. It should be nice to get away from the campus for a few days and hang out with friends back home.
I think that is all for now.
Day 42: It was a long and arduous journey finding our way through the bog. Two men were lost--dragged under by the bog orts--creatures that live in the very ground of the bog waiting for some poor straggling animal (or man) to come by for dinner. Prior to these last few days the bog orts were believed to be nothing but children's stories, designed to keep kids from wandering into the bog. In the future we shall know better, for the loss of those two men weighs heavy on us all.
But there is nothing for it. We must continue on, and so we shall.
It is good to finally have rid ourselves of the bog after being lost in its haze and stench for so long. Spirits began lifting even as we first set foot back on solid ground.
We now set our gaze forward with eager anticipation...and a wary eye.
Anyway, Life is going pretty well. Work has been enjoyable as always--in its own weird sort of way. Tomorrow I'm heading home for the weekend. My friend is graduating, and he insists that I be there--to the point that he is driving down to get me, and then taking me back on Sunday. It should be nice to get away from the campus for a few days and hang out with friends back home.
I think that is all for now.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Summer Time on the Campus
I'm living in a new apartment now. It's the same complex, but it's a "four-person" apartment instead of a "three-person" apartment. This means that everything is either almost twice as big or over twice as big. My bedroom is almost. The kitchen is over. The bathroom is almost. The windows are over.
It's been interesting settling in here. At first it was a bit of a challenge getting all my stuff to fit with all my room-mate's stuff. Some how we made it work. It's absolutely incredible just how well everything fits. The few people who have seen our room have all said that it looks really good. We like it.
Most everyone has moved home for the Summer. Only a few of us are sticking around. Some of us are working. Some are staying only until they leave for another country. Some just don't have anywhere else to live where it would be cheep without any room-mates. It's an interesting bunch. It should be an interesting Summer.
It's been interesting settling in here. At first it was a bit of a challenge getting all my stuff to fit with all my room-mate's stuff. Some how we made it work. It's absolutely incredible just how well everything fits. The few people who have seen our room have all said that it looks really good. We like it.
Most everyone has moved home for the Summer. Only a few of us are sticking around. Some of us are working. Some are staying only until they leave for another country. Some just don't have anywhere else to live where it would be cheep without any room-mates. It's an interesting bunch. It should be an interesting Summer.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Normal--With Side-Effects
I had an "ah-hah" moment today. Some of you when you read this will probably think something like, "and this guy is in college?"
I was talking with a friend today when I used the word "emphatically." Just then I started thinking about the word. 'emphaticaly...emphasis...OH! That's where it comes from.' Suddenly that word made so much more sense to me than it ever had.
I think it should be noted that I have used this word for a long time (and yes, I have been using it in proper context and everything). I knew what it meant, and I knew how to use it. I just had never thought about and made the connection between "emphatic" and "emphasis."
Now, I just know that some of you are thinking "there's one egg that took too long to boil." Whatever.
I have my finals next week. I am actually not too worried about all that at this point. All of the big projects are done. The rest is pretty straight forward and easily done. Every day of finals week I am done around or before 12:30. This is a big deal for the guy who has classes every day in both the morning and late afternoon (and once a week into the late evening). I am really excited for this week to come to a close. I don't really have any more assignments due this week (that aren't already done). There are only the choir concerts and class attendance to worry about for the next couple days.
With that in mind, I think I will go to sleep now. Laters.
I was talking with a friend today when I used the word "emphatically." Just then I started thinking about the word. 'emphaticaly...emphasis...OH! That's where it comes from.' Suddenly that word made so much more sense to me than it ever had.
I think it should be noted that I have used this word for a long time (and yes, I have been using it in proper context and everything). I knew what it meant, and I knew how to use it. I just had never thought about and made the connection between "emphatic" and "emphasis."
Now, I just know that some of you are thinking "there's one egg that took too long to boil." Whatever.
I have my finals next week. I am actually not too worried about all that at this point. All of the big projects are done. The rest is pretty straight forward and easily done. Every day of finals week I am done around or before 12:30. This is a big deal for the guy who has classes every day in both the morning and late afternoon (and once a week into the late evening). I am really excited for this week to come to a close. I don't really have any more assignments due this week (that aren't already done). There are only the choir concerts and class attendance to worry about for the next couple days.
With that in mind, I think I will go to sleep now. Laters.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Saturday, April 05, 2008
The Meaning of it All
It's around this time of year that I tend to contemplate the concept of birthdays. What are they? Why do we celebrate them? Should they matter? Why should they matter? What should be different about them? What do we have right?
There have been some years when I've just given up on birthdays, and there have been years when I have worked hard at birthdays. Usually whatever I decide to do doesn't work. Some times I will decide to not care much about them, and I will become depressed because I can't help but care even though I don't allow myself to. Some times I work really hard at making big plans only to have them blow up in my face.
I can recall two purely good birthdays--one was mine, and one was a friend's. There have been others that ended well, but started really rough, and several that have crashed and burned.
So I've wondered, what's the point? Why do we do this?
For a long time I figured a birthday is a day when you take extra special notice of someone you care about, be it family, friend, or...family. That's why it never really made sense to me to go singing "Happy Birthday" to someone I didn't even know--though I most always went along with it for the sake of being polite. But I never cared for people who don't know me to start singing to me.
However, as I was considering this concept of birthdays this year I began to think about it a little bit differently. This is what I came up with:
Birthdays are times when we celebrate a life created by God, in the image of God, and (Lord willing) lived to the glory of God.
See when you look at it like that it's not just showing appreciation for those you care about--though that is definitely an important part of those birthdays. It is about worshiping God for the wonderful work He has done. Life itself is such an amazing thing. The fact that we were created in God's own image would be unbelievable if He didn't tell us that it was so. And the joy, peace and love that flows out of a life that is lived to the glory of God is so uplifting and encouraging. Praise the Lord that we sinful creatures may through His spirit live such lives. And Praise the Lord for those kind of people whom He has placed in our lives.
Birthdays have suddenly become much more exciting occasions.
Today is someone's birthday. Praise the Lord, and Happy Birthday!
There have been some years when I've just given up on birthdays, and there have been years when I have worked hard at birthdays. Usually whatever I decide to do doesn't work. Some times I will decide to not care much about them, and I will become depressed because I can't help but care even though I don't allow myself to. Some times I work really hard at making big plans only to have them blow up in my face.
I can recall two purely good birthdays--one was mine, and one was a friend's. There have been others that ended well, but started really rough, and several that have crashed and burned.
So I've wondered, what's the point? Why do we do this?
For a long time I figured a birthday is a day when you take extra special notice of someone you care about, be it family, friend, or...family. That's why it never really made sense to me to go singing "Happy Birthday" to someone I didn't even know--though I most always went along with it for the sake of being polite. But I never cared for people who don't know me to start singing to me.
However, as I was considering this concept of birthdays this year I began to think about it a little bit differently. This is what I came up with:
Birthdays are times when we celebrate a life created by God, in the image of God, and (Lord willing) lived to the glory of God.
See when you look at it like that it's not just showing appreciation for those you care about--though that is definitely an important part of those birthdays. It is about worshiping God for the wonderful work He has done. Life itself is such an amazing thing. The fact that we were created in God's own image would be unbelievable if He didn't tell us that it was so. And the joy, peace and love that flows out of a life that is lived to the glory of God is so uplifting and encouraging. Praise the Lord that we sinful creatures may through His spirit live such lives. And Praise the Lord for those kind of people whom He has placed in our lives.
Birthdays have suddenly become much more exciting occasions.
Today is someone's birthday. Praise the Lord, and Happy Birthday!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
"Let Me Get Back To You On That"
I'm back from music tour. We went over to Idaho, up into Washington, and swung back around through Portland. It was a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of fun.
Today I finished a group presentation that leaves me now very much less stressed. Ah, it feels good. I think the presentation went well. I kind of enjoyed my portion of it. Granted, I was really worried that I wouldn't say enough. I had a general idea of what I wanted to say. I even had a specific idea of what I wanted to say, but I didn't want to just stand there reading, so I pretty much took what I knew and what I wanted them to know and spoke as clearly and to the point as I could. There were some bumbles along the way, but all in all I think it went well. I even put some effort into keeping the attention of my audience. I noticed, while my team mates were giving their portions of the presentation, that we were losing the crowd. So for the sake of the team, and for the sake of the our gracious audience, I decided to just put myself out there and give them everything I had. Like I said, it was kind of fun. Terribly frightening though.
I have some choices ahead of me. That's life I guess. But I have some very new choices ahead of me. Example:
This summer I have been offered the opportunity to stick around campus and work part time for the A/V department. I would be provided housing at no cost, I would only need to take care of my own food and personal expenses. It could be a very interesting experience. Dare I say, it could even be kind of fun. Living on campus with a consistent amount of work every week. Not like during the school year when I have little work one week and long days and late nights the next three weeks. There are a lot of reasons that I want to take the opportunity. I already know that I really want to do this.
However, there is at least one--if not a few--reason(s) for why I would choose to go home for the summer. There are people back home. There are people there who I have had the privilege of getting to know. There are people at home that I would love to be there to help with the various trials, struggles, and joys of life. There are some who need a positive influence in their life--someone to show them the love that God has for them. There are some who simply need encouragement in their walk with God.
I'm not trying to say that I am the solution to all the problems in my home town. I wouldn't even say that I'm the solution to any of the problems. God is the only solution. He doesn't need me to be there for these people in order for good things to happen. God is capable of achieving his goals through so many ways.
But, should God desire to use me back home this summer, I want to be there. I want to be doing what He wants me to do. That is one opportunity that I don't want to miss, because even if I don't have any visible effect on anyone or anything there this summer, I know that if God has me there, then something will come of it eventually. It is a sick, dark town; especially for the youth who live there. I want to see God change that town tremendously. And if God would wish to use me in that change, I don't want to miss that.
So you see, I have decisions ahead of me. Please be praying that God will continue to guide me, and that I will be listening intently for His voice to guide me.
Today I finished a group presentation that leaves me now very much less stressed. Ah, it feels good. I think the presentation went well. I kind of enjoyed my portion of it. Granted, I was really worried that I wouldn't say enough. I had a general idea of what I wanted to say. I even had a specific idea of what I wanted to say, but I didn't want to just stand there reading, so I pretty much took what I knew and what I wanted them to know and spoke as clearly and to the point as I could. There were some bumbles along the way, but all in all I think it went well. I even put some effort into keeping the attention of my audience. I noticed, while my team mates were giving their portions of the presentation, that we were losing the crowd. So for the sake of the team, and for the sake of the our gracious audience, I decided to just put myself out there and give them everything I had. Like I said, it was kind of fun. Terribly frightening though.
I have some choices ahead of me. That's life I guess. But I have some very new choices ahead of me. Example:
This summer I have been offered the opportunity to stick around campus and work part time for the A/V department. I would be provided housing at no cost, I would only need to take care of my own food and personal expenses. It could be a very interesting experience. Dare I say, it could even be kind of fun. Living on campus with a consistent amount of work every week. Not like during the school year when I have little work one week and long days and late nights the next three weeks. There are a lot of reasons that I want to take the opportunity. I already know that I really want to do this.
However, there is at least one--if not a few--reason(s) for why I would choose to go home for the summer. There are people back home. There are people there who I have had the privilege of getting to know. There are people at home that I would love to be there to help with the various trials, struggles, and joys of life. There are some who need a positive influence in their life--someone to show them the love that God has for them. There are some who simply need encouragement in their walk with God.
I'm not trying to say that I am the solution to all the problems in my home town. I wouldn't even say that I'm the solution to any of the problems. God is the only solution. He doesn't need me to be there for these people in order for good things to happen. God is capable of achieving his goals through so many ways.
But, should God desire to use me back home this summer, I want to be there. I want to be doing what He wants me to do. That is one opportunity that I don't want to miss, because even if I don't have any visible effect on anyone or anything there this summer, I know that if God has me there, then something will come of it eventually. It is a sick, dark town; especially for the youth who live there. I want to see God change that town tremendously. And if God would wish to use me in that change, I don't want to miss that.
So you see, I have decisions ahead of me. Please be praying that God will continue to guide me, and that I will be listening intently for His voice to guide me.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Leap Frog
So, I know I missed it--and that saddens me a little--but had I not missed it, this would have been the first possible post to ever occur on Feb 29th for this blog. The last Feb 29th was a little before this blog even existed. It's crazy, I know.
The next chance I get to post on Feb 29th will be a very different experience. I will be a very different person. Chances are--Lord willing--I will have completed my Bachelor's degree, and I might even be teaching music in some school next time I am able to post on Feb 29th.
I will probably have new friends. I could possibly have lost old ones.
A lot can happen in four years. I was reminded of this fact while reading a post written by a friend of mine. It's a good reminder that things change, and that things have changed.
In many ways it is very comforting to know that I am not the same person I was four years ago. I'm sure if I met that version of me I might think many things about him, some of those thoughts being:
My, he is energetic.
He is so shy.
He is so ignorant and foolish.
This boy is pretty silly.
He is kind of a short, scrawny kid.
He has some potential.
I think you get the idea. I am a different kind of monster than I was back then.
I wonder what kinds of things I would think about me now from me at the next February 29th.
The next chance I get to post on Feb 29th will be a very different experience. I will be a very different person. Chances are--Lord willing--I will have completed my Bachelor's degree, and I might even be teaching music in some school next time I am able to post on Feb 29th.
I will probably have new friends. I could possibly have lost old ones.
A lot can happen in four years. I was reminded of this fact while reading a post written by a friend of mine. It's a good reminder that things change, and that things have changed.
In many ways it is very comforting to know that I am not the same person I was four years ago. I'm sure if I met that version of me I might think many things about him, some of those thoughts being:
My, he is energetic.
He is so shy.
He is so ignorant and foolish.
This boy is pretty silly.
He is kind of a short, scrawny kid.
He has some potential.
I think you get the idea. I am a different kind of monster than I was back then.
I wonder what kinds of things I would think about me now from me at the next February 29th.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I'm Actually Okay With This Right Now
Regret is a difficult thing to live with. I'm the kind of person who, after one short conversation or passing comment, is likely to return to that moment over and over for quite possibly the rest of his life either thinking about how he had said just the right thing, or (and most likely) thinking about the one thing he should have said instead. Even if it doesn't really make any difference what so ever what I say, I will return to that moment from time to time and continue thinking--and some times rehearsing--what I would rather have said, or done.
Thankfully there are some decisions that one never regrets making. I mean sure there are some things that are obviously good choices. Those are not of what I speak. I'm thinking more along the lines of things that one could do or not do and, again, it might not make any difference what so ever in the long run. But from my experience of continually revisiting my past and wishing I had done things a little bit different I'm slowly learning that there are some things that are better attempted and failed than left to be a regret in the back of the mind for the rest of life on this world.
Not everything is like this. There are many things one might bring himself to do thinking that if he doesn't he will regret it, when the truth is that he will only come to regret having done it. These kind of things are not the things of which I speak. I'm referring more to the kinds of things that are described in Philippians 4:8-9. Those are the kinds of things you never regret, not when all is said and done.
Thankfully there are some decisions that one never regrets making. I mean sure there are some things that are obviously good choices. Those are not of what I speak. I'm thinking more along the lines of things that one could do or not do and, again, it might not make any difference what so ever in the long run. But from my experience of continually revisiting my past and wishing I had done things a little bit different I'm slowly learning that there are some things that are better attempted and failed than left to be a regret in the back of the mind for the rest of life on this world.
Not everything is like this. There are many things one might bring himself to do thinking that if he doesn't he will regret it, when the truth is that he will only come to regret having done it. These kind of things are not the things of which I speak. I'm referring more to the kinds of things that are described in Philippians 4:8-9. Those are the kinds of things you never regret, not when all is said and done.
Friday, February 08, 2008
"Are You Sure?"
I learned something about myself today. I learned that I've been lying to myself.
Okay, so I've known that I can lie to myself. And I've known that I'm good at it. What can I say, I guess I'm gullible when it comes to stuff I tell myself.
I was in chaple today--the theme of chapel this term is based on the beatittudes in Matthew 5 and the whole concept of "blessed" or "fully satisfied." Today was what we call a "praise and worship chapel." Usually that means that there isn't a speaker and we sing songs most of the time and maybe the chapel team leader will say a few things. Some times they have PK come up and say a few words. Today the whole theme of the chapel was this concept of being fully satisfied, and they had PK come and say a few words.
When he did come up and start talking it didn't take me very long to start thinking about things. He really hadn't said much before I thought 'huh, yeah...interesting.'
What I realized while sitting there was this:
I know that some times I think about how it might be nice for certain things to be different. I know that some times my mood is a little bit mellowed by the thought of something I would like to have.
BUT when I really think about it, I realize that I am satisfied. The fact of the matter is that today I am good with what I have today, and tomorrow I will be good with what I have tomorrow. Sure there are things that would be nice, and maybe some day I'll have those things. But I'm satisfied with what I have.
Not that I have finally reached that point in my posessions that everyone strives for. "If only I had this..." That's not it. I live each day knowing that I have all of eternity to live for. I live each day knowing that there is a God, and that he knows me, and that he loves me, and that he is caring for me every moment of my life. I live every day knowing that one day I will leave this world, and go home.
But for so long I've been lying to myself. There is always that voice inside that says 'things aren't yet what they could be, but they will be eventually. Until then you have good reason to be a bit gloomy over it. It's okay, you'll be happy eventually.' And that voice will disguise itself with all kinds of good "christian" language and use whatever it can to convince me that I'm not quite satisfied, and that it's okay for me to feel unsatisfied because I will be satisfied some day.
A nasty little bugger, that voice. It has cost me a good deal of joy over the years. Sure things aren't always going to be easy, or fun, or pleasent, or "what they could be." But they are what they are, and what they are is enough. Usually it's more than enough. I can live like that.
Okay, so I've known that I can lie to myself. And I've known that I'm good at it. What can I say, I guess I'm gullible when it comes to stuff I tell myself.
I was in chaple today--the theme of chapel this term is based on the beatittudes in Matthew 5 and the whole concept of "blessed" or "fully satisfied." Today was what we call a "praise and worship chapel." Usually that means that there isn't a speaker and we sing songs most of the time and maybe the chapel team leader will say a few things. Some times they have PK come up and say a few words. Today the whole theme of the chapel was this concept of being fully satisfied, and they had PK come and say a few words.
When he did come up and start talking it didn't take me very long to start thinking about things. He really hadn't said much before I thought 'huh, yeah...interesting.'
What I realized while sitting there was this:
I know that some times I think about how it might be nice for certain things to be different. I know that some times my mood is a little bit mellowed by the thought of something I would like to have.
BUT when I really think about it, I realize that I am satisfied. The fact of the matter is that today I am good with what I have today, and tomorrow I will be good with what I have tomorrow. Sure there are things that would be nice, and maybe some day I'll have those things. But I'm satisfied with what I have.
Not that I have finally reached that point in my posessions that everyone strives for. "If only I had this..." That's not it. I live each day knowing that I have all of eternity to live for. I live each day knowing that there is a God, and that he knows me, and that he loves me, and that he is caring for me every moment of my life. I live every day knowing that one day I will leave this world, and go home.
But for so long I've been lying to myself. There is always that voice inside that says 'things aren't yet what they could be, but they will be eventually. Until then you have good reason to be a bit gloomy over it. It's okay, you'll be happy eventually.' And that voice will disguise itself with all kinds of good "christian" language and use whatever it can to convince me that I'm not quite satisfied, and that it's okay for me to feel unsatisfied because I will be satisfied some day.
A nasty little bugger, that voice. It has cost me a good deal of joy over the years. Sure things aren't always going to be easy, or fun, or pleasent, or "what they could be." But they are what they are, and what they are is enough. Usually it's more than enough. I can live like that.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Can You Believe It?!?
I find them hard to believe, some of the things that happen in this life. I hear tell of a situation with this person, I read news of a terrible death there, I ocasionally notice this or that.
Some of the things I find hard to believe are, at the least, unpleasent if not out-right bad. These people are having relationship problems, this person wonders what is the point of living, and over here are some cult members, drug abusers, murderers, or such. These are people you see every day. These are people who are dealing with some Stuff. In reality we all are on this side of the spectrum at some points in our lives. Not in the same ways as all of these, but we all deal with some Stuff in our lives. Every one of us runs into some terrible, nasty stuff; wheather it is Stuff we cause or Stuff that is thrown at us. We all need help in our lives. And some times it's hard to believe just how much Stuff is going around in this world.
Some times I find it hard to believe good things that happen, or at least things that appear to be good at the time. Some times we can be fooled into thinking things are good when they aren't. There are good things, however. There are amazing things, things that I would never expect, things that make me gape in awe at the wonder and creativity of God.
I find these things hard to believe for a while. They are absolutly astounding.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Friday, January 25, 2008
God Has An Accent
This particular post is going to be centered around a concept that I have described in a previous post. I can't seem to locate the exact post from among the myriads of posts I've published on this here blog. But I know it is in there somewhere.
The concept I speak of is the effects of reading upon my personal use of language. By this I mean, how what I read effects the way I talk and the way I write.
To use the examples from the previous post on this subject: when I read abstract and absurd works I begin talking and writing in abstract and absurd ways (more than usual). When I read poetry I write more poetically.
And when I read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn--like I am right now for my history/American literature class--I have a tendency to talk(at least while no one is listening) like Huck. Granted, I don't find the n word flying out of my mouth. But the dialect becomes the medium through which my thoughts pour out.
I was thinking about this while I was walking along today. This was just after I had spent over half an hour reading Huck Finn. I like reading out loud, especially when it's something--like Huck Finn--that gives me the opportunity to try out some different accents. So as I'm walking along I have this accent fresh on my tong. I also like thinking out loud when I'm by myself. So I was thinking about this whole concept that I've been describing to you. And I thought:
'When ever I have been reading, I have a tendency to think, talk, and write like what I've been reading. When I read Huck Finn, I think, and talk like Huck Finn...' and so on as I have described already. This next part, however, is something very interesting that caught me by surprise. 'So if I want to be thinking, talking, and writing about the things of God, what book do I think I should be reading?'
........
Did you see what happened there? Yeah, I got myself good.
But seriously, It's an interesting thought.
Somewhere in the course of last term I was trying to figure out where in the Bible I should read next. I had been through the new testament a few times in the previous years. I had gone through the epistles more than a couple times, and some more than others. I could go for another round, but I thought that I needed to be somewhere else.
Now usually when you think 'Old Testament' you don't think a whole lot of life changing practical application. Sure there is a lot of amazing stuff about our Awesome God. But there isn't very much direct instruction for the church.
Anyway, I started in Judges.
Somewhere around the middle of the term I was reading through first or second Samuel. During this time I was noticing in my life that even though there wasn't a whole lot of drastically life altering practical application stuff (at least that I could see...I still haven't taken Bible study methods) I could see in my life the effect of reading continually about my God and the way he works in, and through, and in spite of people. Simply keeping my mind on the things of God, that's all it was. And that makes a difference.
I need to keep reminding myself of that. In all this hurry to keep up with my studies, and all the moving about and endless days, I want to remember who I live for. I want to remember who it is that makes life worth living. I want Him to be in my thoughts, and in my words, and in my deeds; all of them.
I'm not perfect--not even close. But He hasn't given up on me, and He finishes what He starts.
The concept I speak of is the effects of reading upon my personal use of language. By this I mean, how what I read effects the way I talk and the way I write.
To use the examples from the previous post on this subject: when I read abstract and absurd works I begin talking and writing in abstract and absurd ways (more than usual). When I read poetry I write more poetically.
And when I read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn--like I am right now for my history/American literature class--I have a tendency to talk(at least while no one is listening) like Huck. Granted, I don't find the n word flying out of my mouth. But the dialect becomes the medium through which my thoughts pour out.
I was thinking about this while I was walking along today. This was just after I had spent over half an hour reading Huck Finn. I like reading out loud, especially when it's something--like Huck Finn--that gives me the opportunity to try out some different accents. So as I'm walking along I have this accent fresh on my tong. I also like thinking out loud when I'm by myself. So I was thinking about this whole concept that I've been describing to you. And I thought:
'When ever I have been reading, I have a tendency to think, talk, and write like what I've been reading. When I read Huck Finn, I think, and talk like Huck Finn...' and so on as I have described already. This next part, however, is something very interesting that caught me by surprise. 'So if I want to be thinking, talking, and writing about the things of God, what book do I think I should be reading?'
........
Did you see what happened there? Yeah, I got myself good.
But seriously, It's an interesting thought.
Somewhere in the course of last term I was trying to figure out where in the Bible I should read next. I had been through the new testament a few times in the previous years. I had gone through the epistles more than a couple times, and some more than others. I could go for another round, but I thought that I needed to be somewhere else.
Now usually when you think 'Old Testament' you don't think a whole lot of life changing practical application. Sure there is a lot of amazing stuff about our Awesome God. But there isn't very much direct instruction for the church.
Anyway, I started in Judges.
Somewhere around the middle of the term I was reading through first or second Samuel. During this time I was noticing in my life that even though there wasn't a whole lot of drastically life altering practical application stuff (at least that I could see...I still haven't taken Bible study methods) I could see in my life the effect of reading continually about my God and the way he works in, and through, and in spite of people. Simply keeping my mind on the things of God, that's all it was. And that makes a difference.
I need to keep reminding myself of that. In all this hurry to keep up with my studies, and all the moving about and endless days, I want to remember who I live for. I want to remember who it is that makes life worth living. I want Him to be in my thoughts, and in my words, and in my deeds; all of them.
I'm not perfect--not even close. But He hasn't given up on me, and He finishes what He starts.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Garbage Dump
I would like to take this moment to establish the fact that I am not completely, though entirely, insane. Thank you.
Yeah, I'm not sure what it means either.
Let's see what's in the news.
City boy learns that one man's garbage really is another man's gold. It seems that while young Alex Douglas was playing with a few of his friends in the ally behind his New York apartment, where he lives with his mother and 5-year old sister, he happened upon a solid gold book end. The owner of the high price paper-weight claims that he didn't realize this nick-knack was of any real value. He simply assumed that since it's matching counterpart was no where to be found, there was no point in keeping the piece of junk around. "When I found it among my wife's things in the attic" recalls the 73-year old widower Hank Schoune "I figured it was just as much useless junk as the rest of her things. She was a terrible pack-rat, don't you know. She kept every little trinket she came by."
As far as the fate of the bookend is concerned, Hank has decided that Whiteney Douglas--Alex's mother--probably has more need of such a thing. "I've lived this long without needing too much money" explains a very relaxed and content Mr. Schoune. "I don't see how I could just up and change how I've always lived after so long."
The events and people described above are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is only coincidence.
Yeah, I'm not sure what it means either.
Let's see what's in the news.
City boy learns that one man's garbage really is another man's gold. It seems that while young Alex Douglas was playing with a few of his friends in the ally behind his New York apartment, where he lives with his mother and 5-year old sister, he happened upon a solid gold book end. The owner of the high price paper-weight claims that he didn't realize this nick-knack was of any real value. He simply assumed that since it's matching counterpart was no where to be found, there was no point in keeping the piece of junk around. "When I found it among my wife's things in the attic" recalls the 73-year old widower Hank Schoune "I figured it was just as much useless junk as the rest of her things. She was a terrible pack-rat, don't you know. She kept every little trinket she came by."
As far as the fate of the bookend is concerned, Hank has decided that Whiteney Douglas--Alex's mother--probably has more need of such a thing. "I've lived this long without needing too much money" explains a very relaxed and content Mr. Schoune. "I don't see how I could just up and change how I've always lived after so long."
The events and people described above are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is only coincidence.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
"I'm Dis Many Yeaws Ow'd"
I'm not the person I once was. This is a fact of life that ought to be a no-brainer. There are so many little things about a person that change every day, even every minute.
But this is a profound truth for me right now:
I am not the person I once was.
This is an important fact for a few reasons. The main reason being that I have never had, for as long as I can remember, an image of myself that depicted me as I was at the time. For a great deal of the last 9 years I have seen myself as a nine-year-old. Only in the last couple years have I finally started to see myself a little older than that.
Just this evening I took a moment to think about how I see myself now. My personal assessment was that I see myself as a 16-17 year-old. Granted, this is a great improvement from nine. But it's still not who I am now.
There have been a few times this last year when I went to bed and just lay there wondering why I am here, why am I in college, living in this room. It just doesn't line up with my image of myself. I'm not old enough to be living on my own. I'm not old enough for all this responsibility. I'm not ready for this. I can't make this work. Not as I see me.
This is of course a grand testament to how much I underestimate myself. Because I am here. I am on my own...to a degree. I am making this work.
Realising this has caused me to think about how I see myself and question my assessments. I realize that I make a lot of judgements of myself based on my past, and that's okay. That's all I know of myself so far. I don't have anything else to work with. But at this point in my life I have acquired enough history that there are some aspects of me that have become out dated; things that were true of me at one time, but that no longer are.
Thus, I am not the same person I once was.
A lot has changed just in the last two years, not to mention the last five or ten years.
I literally
walk different,
talk different,
stand different,
act different,
look different,
laugh different,
think different,
sing different,
work different.
I am not the same person I once was.
There are some things that haven't changed. Some things will never change. Like where I find my salvation, security and purpose. Also the facts that I still live in a 2-D world, I am still left handed and I still enjoy making music.
But this is a profound truth for me right now:
I am not the person I once was.
This is an important fact for a few reasons. The main reason being that I have never had, for as long as I can remember, an image of myself that depicted me as I was at the time. For a great deal of the last 9 years I have seen myself as a nine-year-old. Only in the last couple years have I finally started to see myself a little older than that.
Just this evening I took a moment to think about how I see myself now. My personal assessment was that I see myself as a 16-17 year-old. Granted, this is a great improvement from nine. But it's still not who I am now.
There have been a few times this last year when I went to bed and just lay there wondering why I am here, why am I in college, living in this room. It just doesn't line up with my image of myself. I'm not old enough to be living on my own. I'm not old enough for all this responsibility. I'm not ready for this. I can't make this work. Not as I see me.
This is of course a grand testament to how much I underestimate myself. Because I am here. I am on my own...to a degree. I am making this work.
Realising this has caused me to think about how I see myself and question my assessments. I realize that I make a lot of judgements of myself based on my past, and that's okay. That's all I know of myself so far. I don't have anything else to work with. But at this point in my life I have acquired enough history that there are some aspects of me that have become out dated; things that were true of me at one time, but that no longer are.
Thus, I am not the same person I once was.
A lot has changed just in the last two years, not to mention the last five or ten years.
I literally
walk different,
talk different,
stand different,
act different,
look different,
laugh different,
think different,
sing different,
work different.
I am not the same person I once was.
There are some things that haven't changed. Some things will never change. Like where I find my salvation, security and purpose. Also the facts that I still live in a 2-D world, I am still left handed and I still enjoy making music.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
This is it. I'm heading back to school in a couple days; Monday to be exact. Chances are I won't be posting tomorrow. So, I figure I'll get something in right now. This has been a good break. Lord knows I've been a lot more productive this winter break than I was last year. On the one hand I don't mentally feel bad for wasting so much time. On the other hand I don't feel physically like a lethargic sloth. Suffice it to say, I had a good winter break, and I'm ready to go on with life.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
A Wise Guy
Solomon was always a confusing case in my mind.
I don't get it, here is a guy that has been given by God more wisdom than any one human would ever have in the existence of the world (with the exception of Jesus Christ), and yet he is foolish enough to go and marry hundreds of women and worship their gods. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to read the law and figure out that we really shouldn't be worshiping any god but the one true God. I'm pretty sure God meant it when He said "You shall have no other gods before me." Add that to the fact that God directly told Solomon "if you walk before me in integrity of heart and uprightness, as David your father did, and do all I command and observe my decrees and laws, I will establish your royal throne over Israel forever..." When you run the equation, it just doesn't make sense. Wisdom + Law + Promise = Woops!
So for a long time I've wondered just how wise can this guy really have been if he was that foolish?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to discredit the wisdom of Solomon. The Bible is quite clear that he was wiser than any one of us would ever be, and that is nothing to laugh at.
It's just always bugged me: if the great wisdom of Solomon was not enough to bring him to the conclusion of pure, unadulterated worship of God, then what was it that he was missing?
I know that none of us will ever get it completely right this side of heaven. But you would still think that all that wisdom would keep you pointed in the right direction. So perhaps it takes more than wisdom to live wisely.
I don't get it, here is a guy that has been given by God more wisdom than any one human would ever have in the existence of the world (with the exception of Jesus Christ), and yet he is foolish enough to go and marry hundreds of women and worship their gods. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to read the law and figure out that we really shouldn't be worshiping any god but the one true God. I'm pretty sure God meant it when He said "You shall have no other gods before me." Add that to the fact that God directly told Solomon "if you walk before me in integrity of heart and uprightness, as David your father did, and do all I command and observe my decrees and laws, I will establish your royal throne over Israel forever..." When you run the equation, it just doesn't make sense. Wisdom + Law + Promise = Woops!
So for a long time I've wondered just how wise can this guy really have been if he was that foolish?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to discredit the wisdom of Solomon. The Bible is quite clear that he was wiser than any one of us would ever be, and that is nothing to laugh at.
It's just always bugged me: if the great wisdom of Solomon was not enough to bring him to the conclusion of pure, unadulterated worship of God, then what was it that he was missing?
I know that none of us will ever get it completely right this side of heaven. But you would still think that all that wisdom would keep you pointed in the right direction. So perhaps it takes more than wisdom to live wisely.
I Meet the Jetsons
Who would have ever thought such a thing? True, there was always the potential and possibility. But when one is a small boy he never considers the future. Only what he wants and wants to be in the present. But he never sees it as something that is in the future. The language used is that of a future tense, but it is not thought of as such.
It is the 2,008th year of our Lord. Not twenty years ago could I have imagined such a thing. Sure, I considered old age and future existence. But in that I did not consider the titles of the years that this life would exist through. 2000 was an oddity. 2005 was an amazement. And now here we are in 2008, a nice round number on the far side of the decade. And to think, I'm still considered young. I could be on this earth through half of the 21st century. Of course I'll be allegedly close to "retirement" by that point, probably have grandchildren, I'll have experienced the losses of at least a few of those I have loved and many I have known, and I will likely have a good deal less hair. (Though according to my friend's theory you never "lose" hair. It just starts growing out other places.) This is all assuming that I do, in fact, live to the middle of the century. Many--if not all--of my friends (past, current, and future) will have been married. Some of them possibly even divorced. My own children will--Lord willing--be mature, intelligent, Christ following, adults with families of their own. Knowing me I'd probably still be in contact with at least a few friends I have right now (assuming they are still alive), and chances are we would get together from time to time--if not on a regular basis--to make music and reminisce about the days when we might have actually sounded good.
I could not even begin to speculate as to what I would be doing with my life at that time, or where I'd be living. I have no way of knowing just what all I would endure in that time, or what my health would be like. I don't even know that I will be living on this earth by that time.
It's an interesting thing to think about--what it will be like when I die. Will it be like falling asleep here and waking up in heaven? Or perhaps it won't be like falling asleep at all, but more like leaving my body and I will see everything around me from the spiritual realm.
I'm sure whatever I could come up with, it wouldn't be at all correct. Of course I could come up with all kinds of fanciful ideas and images about what it would look like and feel like when I die. But all of that would be some sort of culmination of experiences I have had in my life so far; images I have seen, things I have felt, ideas I've been given. And most likely none of that would be anything like the real experience. So I'm not about to spend my whole life trying to figure out what it will be like to die. I'll find out eventually. Nothing like first hand experience, eh?
Anyway, from what I know of past experiences, I would speculate that one thing I will probably think--should I live to see the half-way-point of the 21st century--will be 'wow, I never would have thunk it. I'm alive in 2050. And we still don't have hover cars!'
It is the 2,008th year of our Lord. Not twenty years ago could I have imagined such a thing. Sure, I considered old age and future existence. But in that I did not consider the titles of the years that this life would exist through. 2000 was an oddity. 2005 was an amazement. And now here we are in 2008, a nice round number on the far side of the decade. And to think, I'm still considered young. I could be on this earth through half of the 21st century. Of course I'll be allegedly close to "retirement" by that point, probably have grandchildren, I'll have experienced the losses of at least a few of those I have loved and many I have known, and I will likely have a good deal less hair. (Though according to my friend's theory you never "lose" hair. It just starts growing out other places.) This is all assuming that I do, in fact, live to the middle of the century. Many--if not all--of my friends (past, current, and future) will have been married. Some of them possibly even divorced. My own children will--Lord willing--be mature, intelligent, Christ following, adults with families of their own. Knowing me I'd probably still be in contact with at least a few friends I have right now (assuming they are still alive), and chances are we would get together from time to time--if not on a regular basis--to make music and reminisce about the days when we might have actually sounded good.
I could not even begin to speculate as to what I would be doing with my life at that time, or where I'd be living. I have no way of knowing just what all I would endure in that time, or what my health would be like. I don't even know that I will be living on this earth by that time.
It's an interesting thing to think about--what it will be like when I die. Will it be like falling asleep here and waking up in heaven? Or perhaps it won't be like falling asleep at all, but more like leaving my body and I will see everything around me from the spiritual realm.
I'm sure whatever I could come up with, it wouldn't be at all correct. Of course I could come up with all kinds of fanciful ideas and images about what it would look like and feel like when I die. But all of that would be some sort of culmination of experiences I have had in my life so far; images I have seen, things I have felt, ideas I've been given. And most likely none of that would be anything like the real experience. So I'm not about to spend my whole life trying to figure out what it will be like to die. I'll find out eventually. Nothing like first hand experience, eh?
Anyway, from what I know of past experiences, I would speculate that one thing I will probably think--should I live to see the half-way-point of the 21st century--will be 'wow, I never would have thunk it. I'm alive in 2050. And we still don't have hover cars!'
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