i spent five mintues thinking of a title.

The pain never felt so good.

2011-10-28T23:48:00.000-07:00

It is strangely satisfying to wear your first holes in a pair of climbing shoes. For the past two weeks I have been expanding the wear spots and stretching the seams. Practically climbing on my big toe has caused me to look for more heel-hooking opportunities. You'll soon be getting a review on Chris Sharma's Pontas made by Evolve.

Traveling the Road to Emmaus

2011-10-23T20:10:00.000-07:00

After projecting consistently for a month, Neil and I finally have red-pointed "The Road to Emmaus," a thirty foot length traverse in which you travel half way around the boulder and then up "Elmer Gantry" to sit on the peak, and enjoy the feeling of well earned accomplishment. Neil breezed cleanly through on his first attempt today, redeeming his five failed attempts yesterday. After he busted the mental barrier I jumped up and walked right down the same path with less suave but more drama. The moves were easy after we had rehearsed it into an intuitive state. It was awkwardly satisfying; there wasn't one of those moments where I pushed through pain and held on beyond previous conceived possibility, but at the end sitting up top I thought about how long we had worked to get to that moment, how much I had learned, and then the weight was felt. That's what this climb was, the weight of hard work, perseverance, pain, and obvious growth resulting in satisfied accomplishment - oh, and it's fun!

What a wonderful day! Strength and vigor was amply bestowed upon us, enough to start projecting a new traverse the back side, which I hope ends up including a reaching heal-hook. Give it a shot, first one over and up is non-rotten egg, and gets to name it.

Emerson you will stand, I will surmount

2011-10-10T23:52:00.000-07:00

Well, this past Sunday I surpassed my expectations and completed the second half of the current project: The lengthy traverse of the Emerson boulder. At this point I can't say that tomorrow's planned attempt with Neil Roessler will be successful, but the chances are good for the ol' chap and me. I am not one for excuses, but the holes in my shoes have added excruciation to slipping foot holds at the bottom of face traverse. There appear to be only a few options: 1) Wait till the REI opens up and I have enough money to buy a new pair of shoes; 2) Get my shoes resoled; 3) Keep climbing anyway until 1 or 2 is affordable. 3 it is! I am excited, I just need to start bearing more weight on my left foot, and get an even ware.

Emerson shall be surmounted soon enough my friends, I improve with every attempt. If there is one thing that I appreciate in climbing, its the noticeable progress. Contrasted with grunting frustrating two three weeks ago, the previous crux is now passable with little emotional strain.

Project: Westmont Boulder Traverse

2011-09-27T22:12:00.000-07:00

Well today at my lunch break from work I got to continue hitting Westmont's Emerson Boulder. I have almost finished every part of the traverse, the face is tough but I have found a couple of up, side, down, side moves that are making it more plausible with every attempt. Soon I hope to get a fresh attack and connect all the pieces. Where is Neil Roessler to show me how its done when I need him and then move the crash pad for me? Oh yeah, climbing the brickyard...

Forewarning: Climbing hormones present

2011-09-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

My stellar roommate Jay has bought be a crash-pad, this combined with the diverse and sporadic lifestyle that the next four months is going to consist of, has led me to tune into the measure of climbing hormones my body is producing. The boulder gland is located near the cerebellum and share many neurological pathways - the two are almost distinctly linked together so that the boulder gland will cease to produce if the cerebellum is not stimulated in activities such as long slope holds, overhang, and a series of dynos. I recently have been taking a high dose of rocky supplements and have had strong excretions of crimp, heal hook, and reach. Chalk is almost permanently ground into my pores, I hope to rid myself of the weighty burden that a chalk bag can be. So, all that to say, look out because I think this blog my soon transform and contain many graphic photographs and descriptions of the aforementioned bodily productions. If you want to climb, lets go.

You should be warned of the significant side effects due to extreme boulder hormonal production: Bulging and sore forearms, rippling deltoids, biceps lined with veiny streets, blistered and screaming toes, calloused hands, abnormal and insatiable gaze upon rocks of all shapes and sizes, and high risk of falling.

The greatest question

2011-08-20T13:09:00.000-07:00

When she was falling to what was to be her death, and I when I chose to fall to what was to be my death - my first thought was, "I am not going to let her fall, at least not alone." I didn't.

We are both alive. I pose this question to you: What is the greatest question?

The greatest question that will ever be asked for me - Will God allow me to be alone?

If God will not have me be alone, then there is not hell. If God will leave me alone, then there is. If we can be alone from God, then the person, a young kid who I sacrifice my life for, who rejects Jesus, that person I will have be left alone. If God has us alone, then the Halocaust was a symbol of reality that is greater than the reality we can feel in this life. If God has us alone, then pornography is a more twisted image of togetherness than we will ever come into contact with before bodily death.

The second greatest question for me: Does God choose to leave us alone? Or, does God allow us to be left alone?

The third greatest question for me: From how I have lived, what are my answers?

The fourth greatest questions for me: Does Jesus' existence and his recorded life change my previous two answers?

The Agenda

2011-08-20T12:29:00.001-07:00

Do I believe in an agenda? Is this different than having a particular will? Can they be separated? When I have heard the phrase "God's will" I have always understood it to mean, what God wants to be done. But it seems to me, that what fits with the way this world works is that its God's agenda? Does God's agenda get carried through every time in every situation? I have no clue! I have seen it and believed that his agenda has obviously been carried through and implemented, setting the course and guiding certain events. Other times, I strongly doubt it, and tend to err on the side of "No it hasn't been implemented." Well you know what? I'm done with erring in doubt on the side of "No."
So, does God have an agenda? Yes. Everyone does. Trust this. Jesus had an agenda.
Do I have agenda? Yeah. Does that agenda mean that I want things to happen, and that may not make everyone happy? Yeah. I want a good, righteous, giving, agenda of love that shuns darkness, shuns immorality, that HATES EVIL, that does not want a child to starve to death, that rejoices when a good decision is made rather than a bad one, when someone holds onto their innocence and their joyful smile rather than giving into anger and beating their fists in rage for something over nothing. I want a righteousness that is sorrowful for those who don't see it, that is joyful for those that do, that wants and likes to have fun, that does not want people to be hurt, nor wants people hurting themselves, but loves their freedom repeatedly until it hurts, and also longs for their healing. I want opportunity for all, but I just as equally want those who are given that opportunity to do their best with it. And on some level, I DO want that opportunity to match up with what I want.

I have never been asked to not have a want or desire, I have only been asked to change what I want. I should not change and live apathetically, and I cannot - doing so is killing me, and I refuse to die in this way. Shoot me, because I love you - but I seek to have a pure love. A love that would rather die pure than live impurely.
I will have the strength to call you out, for not calling me out on this. I will have the gentleness to speak softly but the firmness to be direct. I will sit with you until truth that is necessary is revealed and a decision about that is made. I will lose sleep, I will not eat, I will cry, I will smile, I will bleed, I will laugh, and I will lay prostrated for all my life. All the aforementioned is my agenda.

I am sorry if you are offending because I want these things, but I am going to start saying with honesty and open conviction something I have been afraid to say in a long time :
you are wrong,
God is right,
and I wish you to join me.

I am not afraid of being wrong, not anymore. I am only afraid of not living with a pure heart, not having truth. I am not afraid of hurting people anymore. I am only afraid of not living in the righteousness that I have.

I am not afraid of being stupid. I have been called stupid before, I have been stupid before. I am afraid of not accepting it, and not repenting.

I have been wrong most of my life, and I have been wrong about mostly the wrong things, and it sucks. But the right things are becoming clear. You are the right thing. Your life is very important. My life is very important. I am the right thing.

I have learned hard way, and guess what? Its hard. Now, I am probably going to learn the hard way, how to stop learning the hard way, and someday I will learn an easier way.

The battle began, it begins today, it begins tomorrow.

PhazeBook

2011-06-09T23:00:00.001-07:00

It's been three days shy of a month since I deactivated my Facebook account. It was hard at first, I found myself out of senseless habit moving my mouse to click on the bookmark as I wait the quarter second for a website to load, then abruptly realizing that it was now an empty urge that would no longer be satisfied. Five minutes later I found myself doing it again. Two hours later, returning to my email, I found myself again trying to shake the impulse.

Slavery comes in many forms. Habits are their indicators. Freedom is the power to leave the jail and return when it chooses, its not to never live in a cell.

Last year Facebook was a canal for friends to import and I to export news and relational cargo. Since then, with much empty unemployed time I have morphed into a homebody that uses Facebook like a twitch of nervous habit. I wouldn't consider my usage of Facebook overbearing on anyone, not even myself. This culture has a funny way of slipping under our skin and requiring the slightest interaction and stimulation every instance. Our brains are living organisms, they have the ability to function differently from year to year. Its scary.

Have you ever tried to have an out-of-body experience? Or how about just imagining yourself siting next to yourself, a mere ghostly observer? I gazed and found myself in a fit of incoherent A.D.D. who had thoughts skipping like a five year-old on hot, sticky asphalt jumping around the purple chalked hopscotch grid. I rose from my kitchen table, five unconnected thoughts a second, aimlessly pacing to fill the gaps, and then somehow five or ten minutes later one of the former thoughts would find the next rational step, and then five minutes later I might conclude the thought or forget about it completely, moving on to something else that wasn't concluded. I reached for the cupboard and fumbled a Cheeze-It box and shagged a few in my mouth, not really realizing why, or what they even tasted like. With nothing to fill the gaps created by Facebook and the English language songs and ads, nothing except aimlessness, I realized I have surely adapted back to America. A place where if I am not under stress and doing something, a different task or thought every five minutes or a next thing, I don't know who I am or have no control and have forgotten about the inner stimulus and how to be inspired to from that and to be self-initiating.

Since my brain is used to taking in ten different stimuli a second it only allowed for one congruent and complete train of thought every ten minutes. Then when the gap filler, the nervous twitch, the outlet of all that - Facebook - was gone, my brain skipped the gaps, but didn't squish the thoughts together. If my thoughts were water and they flowed that would be enough. They wouldn't even have to be a smooth river or stream, just a waterfall, anything but the puddles they've been. As simple and fanciful as I would like, I must admit, I am not the five year old running through the street sloshing up muddy water in his glistening yellow galoshes as he tromps from one puddle to the next.

Clear the mud, let my thoughts flow and be conscious and strong in memory. Maybe I need the stimulus of stress? Maybe I should write more. Although I am slow, and typing this took me about 40 minutes, it does help. Now I push myself, to think faster, to stream like a 4G network. No, to stream like a human brain that is creating the 5G network.

To Be Chased

2011-05-26T13:57:00.000-07:00

The left side of the couch didn't feel soft, and his leg itched more when leaning that way; moving to the right side made the kink in his neck sting; lying down just felt like he was flat out lazy. The screen-door slammed behind and his steps thudded on off the porch and onto the pavement. Pacing like a flee bitten dog as he wandered tracing the dirt road around his neighboring, vacant home and back again to his porch.

There is foliage of 17 different bushes and trees, and just as many insects and animals. His house is hugged on the back the shade of a big live oak and kept safe by a slope too steep to allow anything but roots to build upon. After fifty feet the creek trickles and when the birds have their afternoon tea break from singing, you can hear it from the porch. It’s strange how living in a beautiful place can, at moments, feel like its squeezing you out like a wet-fish.

When he was about 15 minutes away, he thought that talking might stop what caused him to start driving in the first place. No friend was available at the moment. The grey suede of the bucket seat held him like a royal throne the day before, but today started to gnaw his thighs. The streets and turning down Barry Rd. was all instinct, so was turning left and then right after that when Regal St. ended. Everything was too familiar to appreciate. Reaching back into his memory he headed towards a beloved cafe shop, Stone and Larry's. Catching a glimpse from the storefront from a hundred yards, he let out a breathless and unsatisfying sigh of relief. Waiting for a blue Toyota Ranger to fill with the driver and three passengers and back out, a thought slipped in mind like a spatula in chocolate pudding.

He was running, and the only way out. So he thought of her, mystique and voluptuous with a full-bodied smile. He fixed his gaze, stern with a strong brow on the tip of anger, and said, "No."

He stepped out the car, dropped the keys in his pockets, grabbed some coffee and started to type: "The left side of the couch didn't feel soft, and his ...."

Old and Sick

2011-05-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

I wonder if this is how I will feel when I'm old? A fever crept up on me last night and hit a summit of 102.9 degrees, leaving my body achy, flashing back and forth between the Sahara and Alaska. Not preferable over the typical health of a 20 something. But am I living in luxury now? And when I hit my 80's I'll wake up to reality? Is this is the kind of pain I'll have to put away daily to just enjoy the simple pleasures. I have seen old people groan when they sit on couches, and struggle to get up from them after they have sunk down deep. My grandmother was old, but I don't remember her groaning.

Idaho wasn't the friendliest of places in the depression, nor were many others for that matter. A vision my grandmother shared with me once was her mother feeding those who came to their front door to beg for food. When there was work, so that they would be dignified in their request they would do it, when their wasn't, they ate just the same. I don't know how many people she fed when she was small, nor how often, but she grew up dignified, working right along with those men. Feeding chickens in the blistering cold, tending to soil writhing with weeds and 4am milking appointments is bound to make you tough. So it is no surprise to me that Grandma would get up from any chair without a sound, and it is no surprise to me that she walked a few miles everyday until she was diagnosed with cancer, and passed two weeks later. And it is no surprise to me that her sick body went unmentioned by her, because she minded not her own aches but the aches of others, whom she continued to serve and feed since the farm.

Awaken my mind to words and stories.

Reprise

2011-05-17T14:09:00.000-07:00

My fellow bloggers, I return to you. Expect me to read what you write as often as I used to check Facebook, since I have deactivated my profile.

Flesh me out
Would people know
if you were sitting next to me?
The eyes surrounding me at this coffee shop,
would all eyes string to you and weave
a quilt, pitched like a tent, draping
from your very presence, art
greater than anything my grandmother has made.

Or,
would people know
nothing of what we speak.
Our cairn stacked word by word.

Experience

2011-02-10T09:18:00.000-08:00

"The religion Jesus gave the world is an experience, not a body of ideas or principles. It is in being lived that it lives, as it is in loving that the love which it discloses at the heart of all creation becomes manifest." - Malcolm Muggeridge

"Does my presence do any good here?"

2011-01-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

I want this to be a constant thought in 2011.

"Does my presence do any good here?

Contact with the natives helps to lessen the feelings of strangeness, tames them, and slowly makes taboos and prejudices disappear.

It is very slow, a very little thing.

It is painful to see the reign of evil all around,

the lack of good,

the enemies of the lord so very enterprising,

the faltering of friends,

to see oneself so miserable even after so many blessings.

However, one should not be sad

but should look above it all to our beloved Lord.

For it is Him we love not ourselves, and it is His good that concerns us.

Hope is a duty -

charity hopes for all -

hope is but faith in the goodness of God.

He is good and all-powerful.

Unquestionably, he leaves us free,

and often we use our freedom,

lamentably, but while leaving us free,

he still remains master

and can at his will send a grace

so powerful that is overwhelms everything,

transform everything.

He has already done enough for us to make us believe in his love...

There are difficulties on all sides at all times."

November 18th, 1907

-Charles de Foucauld

(spacing by me)

Rocks of Santa Barbara beware!

2010-12-30T23:13:00.000-08:00

I have really love climbing this break.

A rock is glanced at,
a nick becomes a landing platform
for the anterior of the toe;
a bulge the antithesis for the weary forearm.

A challenge is born,
not in the summit,
but in the assent.
Body contortions become a brush,
and the physic a pallete,
to smooth across
a nick here
a bulge there.

Nothing is as it seems,
flesh turns to rock
and rock again.

We cried King

2010-12-20T00:14:00.000-08:00

"We cried King"

by Ayinde Russell

Listen to him read it (#7)

the music is awesome too.

On a night so humble that stars kneeled at the pew of our atmosphere

Like wearied knights fallen prostrate in the court of their lord

As though the throne room of heaven had somehow settled into a lowly stable

in a desert

leaving only the most common of creatures to serve attendance of the coming messiah

And we cried King

The ground did not tremble

Continents did no quake at our savior’s arrival

Only the convulsing womb of a virgin girl

And the technonics of the plays building invisibly behind the veil of our natural realm

An opus resonating through the hallways of the ever-after proclaiming

Christ’s arrival

And we cried King

And for a moment an atlas appeared in the sky,

A heavenly compass

A breach in the firmament between eternity and us

A torch over the horizon given to help seekers navigate the distance

And winged messengers to chaperone the light

Pointing out the direction for the weary and crying “This is the way!”

And we cried King

Followed by a procession of unlikely celebrants

As mortals and immortals stood star-struck

As creator takes his firsts breaths

Clothed in rib cage and skin

Muscle and bone

Flesh and blood

Delivered to us

To deliver us

Breathing with us

To give us breath for us

And we cried King

And so I fly

2010-12-13T16:07:00.000-08:00

Dec. 9th 2010

I feel like a bird
Lighter in flight than on a branch.
If I beat my wings, make decisions and move
then I think not of myself.
The weight of my own existence confounds me.
However, its a flightless discomfit.
And so I fly.

Today I landed - inevitable.
I return, but with no olive branch
To warm Noah and brighten the future.

Who am I?
And so I fly.

A happy new year

2010-11-18T19:18:00.000-08:00

What do I write about when I have no incredible inspiration? Do I mention my revelations and meditations, my moments of enlightenment as I lay in the library somewhere between sleeping and reading? They were profound, and I baked in the single thought, "God loves me."

Maybe instead I'll write about the frivolities of being a college grad, having more freedom than I ever had in my life. Possibly I'll write about the look the two old ladies who just walked by gave me and my propped-up bare feet.

A frequent thing I do in my head, and when conversation slows with friends is people watch and write their possible stories. Is it the time for one?

Ahhhh inspiration finally comes... it came through the stereo, singing and giving commemoration to the grandfather of many, Father Christmas.
I am excited for Christmas. Nothing warms my heart like a peaceful rendition of a classic tune that has remained unchanged since my birth; Britney Spears doesn't fit into that category, Sufjan and his hipster favored album comes close but its too much creative liberty for me at traditional moments. Dim lights and a corner placed pine, bricks surrounding a brewing fire to match my cup of joe or cocoa, a warm voice embodying familiar lyrics, a chill to bring out the blessing of heat, a serenity rooted in knowing my Savior has been born, and a nearby well known souls to full up the room - and so this is Christmas.

Thank you for sparing my life everyday.

Paper

2010-11-11T15:58:00.001-08:00

Springing from my bed this morning, the glow silhouetting the leaves out my window brought me a spark of excitement rather than the usual weariness of another jobless day. I reached for a fresh set of black boot-fitting jeans, unworn for weeks. Slipping them on, I filled my pockets with the necessities of the West: wallet, cell phone, keys - check. The I flung my arms in the air and leaned back for a long, inverted-cat stretch, thrusting my belly forward.

My hands nestled into my back pockets and I stood, thinking not of the past, nor the day ahead of me, not even the present - just blank. My fingers felt something - a fold of loose paper pressed in my pockets and their wrap on my back-side.

A glimmer of hope, an expectation of something great! Could it be the twenty-dollars I always hear about people finding randomly in their old clothes? Could it be an old note from a friend I had stuck close as a keepsake? Maybe an old to-do list? A supernaturally endowed note with a picture of the girl I am to marry some-day? Possibly some-sort of guide that reveals who I am and what job to pursue. Maybe it is an old treasure map of my childhood, waiting for years to once again throw me into it's mystery, and seeking after lost adventures?
It was a receipt, bland and nearly dissolved, completely white and starchy from at least two terms with my washer and drier.

I long, seek, and expect the prodigious, but keep finding the mundane.

Coping with a Miracle

2010-11-11T15:58:00.000-08:00

Written May 17^th, 2010 (a week after the fall)

I feel like it's my fault. I sensed she was scared and uncomfortable, but neglected it and allowed us to push forward. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn't seriously think and consider the risk of our falling and the result, a result which is now a reality. I made so many mistakes - we should not have been climbing that high in that position, I should have been climbing first, I should have turned us back.

There is immense guilt. Guilt which is not affirmed or encouraged by anyone but me. I don't want to let go of this guilt, for fear that I will fail to learn from this experience, from this miracle. For fear that I won't understand the consequences and the seriousness of the reality of our dangerous position, our critically injured condition, and our miraculously preserved livelihood. I know that guilt can give the devil power to damage and destroy, in which case I hope that there I have contrition - the difference being whom one brings there thoughts and prayers to, either themselves or God.

I have been labeled a hero. I am no hero. I don't know what it means to be a hero. If a hero is someone that does what needs to be done when it is necessary, then I am not a hero. I salvaged my mistake of failing to be a hero and turn us back earlier. If a hero is someone acts on what God has naturally gifted them with, and what that person has pushed and grown to be, then there isn't much more heroism to me than many others. I don't think I particularly saved Nadine's life, I did what I thought needed to be done when it was done - I fought the black, sleepy dimness that sought to take over my consciousness, I pushed through pain of what felt like a broken leg, I stayed calm, I kept Nadine awake and talking, I problem solved amongst people with no emergency awareness or common sense, and some other details. Maybe that makes a hero, maybe it doesn't, I'm not to judge. Only the things which align with Christ make a hero.

I am a little thankful for that incident because now, when I hear tragic stories where great feats are accomplished and I ask myself, "Would I be able to do that? Am I strong enough? I wish I possessed that strength." Now, I can confidently say that I can, and I did. But would I trade this recently gifted confidence for Nadine's health and the memories of the fall and her painful cries? Yes.

But the fact is that we did fall, we are both alive, I helped, but God saved us. We are living miracles by man's standards. What does that mean for me? A large part of me says that nothing about this incident is any more miraculous than the breath of a poor man, or the flutter of a butterfly, or the growth of a tree and the falling of it's fruit. Nevertheless, the only way to describe the tragic reality of the incident so that others understand, is to label it as a "miracle."

Have I forgotten what a miracle is? Or has humanity forgotten what a miracle is? Which one is the perspective of Christ? He said he would preform signs and wonders and miracles; but he also said faith like a mustard seed could uproot a tree and replant it in a sea. Divine intervention is real; does it happen all around in every single moment? Or is it only when the physically, statistically, and expected effects are altered by God should a miracle be proclaimed?

Maybe there is something miraculous in the constant, seemingly mundane events like the sun's rising, but I also can't deny that there is something extra miraculous, spectacular, and significant - deserving of a specific label such as 'miracle' - when the laws that we humans study, live, and believe in are stretched by the divine. God must have designed to think and recognized the difference. Or maybe sin has skewed our true vision, skewed us and so we form labels and boxes which don't ultimately exist to God, but currently controls we humans. Can I now say: Therefore, part of joining in His personhood, His divinity, is realizing that those boxes and labels are not eternal realities, only temporaries. Jesus knew and understood the definition of human 'miracles', but lived in the true reality and knowledge that a tree has no real rule about where it can be planted and uprooted.

What should my perspective be? What should my action then be?

I feel like I "should" be more grateful for everyday. I think it makes sense that the air would seem fresher, and I would be more thankful for every waking moment, even more than I was before. But right now I don't. Is there something wrong? What am I missing? I have justified that it is fine and true for me, as a human, to understand that I have experienced a miracle. But I also think that a "miracle" in our terms doesn't quite match up with the eternal reality of God, but only with his finite creation of humanities reality. So where am I? Stuck in the middle?

Do I think my/our survival means that we are destined for great things? Yes. Do I think that before, we were destined great things? Yes. What do I do? How is the "why am I still alive" connected with the "what do I now do?"

The Monkey, Part II

2010-11-01T22:33:00.000-07:00

There I sat, crunched up, legs squeezed so tight in angst that I was almost sitting on my feet, despite the lay-z-boy underneath. Guilt was heavier than ever, but he had nothing to say. When I needed a friend, this monkey seemed to care more about his own fur. As I prayed I thought about this load, how dreary all his ideas seemed, and how self entrapped I felt. Then the epiphenomenal moment came.
If I am made free in Christ, and this is true, from where does this enmeshing trap come from? It must be foreign, for I believe my heart and desires come from pure motives, a broken and contrite heart.

I swatted a flea off my fore-arm, and then smooshed another on my knee. A little certitude flickered inside, and I reared my head back with a countenance of disgust and loath.
"Guilt!!! Guilt, you have embodied your name, and emboldened yourself upon my back." Reaching backwards I took a fierce grip and held him straight armed. His attack and squeeks were nothing to the name of Jesus resting on my tongue, heart and mind. I opened the back door, and with a swift boot sent him flying. The door was locked I was resting back in my chair, cross legged and relieved. There I remained pondering, praying, and gracefully ready and free to make some decisions.

I haven't learned as many lessons as I should have by this age, but if nothing else I know I am not Jesus. I have burdens, responsibilities, desires, and convictions, but they do not match that of my Lords. I am not all encompassing, I have a role. That role is contained within the perimeters of time and space, as is my body.

The simplicity of life is reflected in my humanity.
The complexities arise amidst interaction and fronts to that humanity.
To remain simple and focused amidst complexity is an intricate process, and I need not the burden of Guilt, but of divine weights.

The Monkey, Part I

2010-10-29T17:47:00.001-07:00

The Monkey, Part I

You know what I realized today?

I am not directly at fault for my friends in Tanzania being impoverished.

Around day four of my re-entry as I was driving around town, a monkey snuck into my car and somehow has managed to cling on my back, where he has remained for the past two weeks. The name of the monkey is Guilt. He is sin, he is not redeemed humanity with its forgiveness and freedom. But just as monkeys appear to be, Guilt is an alluring resemblance of what you might think was free, good and righteous humanity.

For a while, I didn't notice him. He was with me almost everywhere I went, and loved to remind me of my past experiences. In fact, I thought his words to be wise counsel. I had never once noticed that his speech were mere imitations, altercations of true human speech. Soon Guilt made himself quite comfortable upon my shoulders and even his fleas started to bond. As they jumped and scurried over my scalp and crawl in my ears, I became distracted from the tasks at-hand, slapping and scratching - their annoyance reveals their foreign identity.

The memories themselves continued to appear, and they would inspire compassionate action. I sought honest advice about my gifts and started considering how I could best implement them. However, Guilt's words seem to defy and provide rational contradiction to my inspiration. Saying things like, "How does counseling people here help your friends over there? What kind of widespread and lasting effect would that have? Counseling? You know not everyone has the time to work through emotions and hidden pains. Why don't you do something that serves everyone." And so I would follow these shrewd and erudite words, alter my course, and let inspiration and ambition guide. But faithfully along for the ride, Guilt didn't mind offering his two-sense, "I wouldn't spend money on that, it would go much farther in Johnson's hands, don't forget him... Whoa whoa, don't just give away so readily, how do you know your money is going to be used efficiently? Don't move, not yet. Remember you are responsible for what you have, including your experiences and relationships; neglect isn't right."

Eventually the only thing Guilt would let me do, without chiming in, was sit down and swat fleas. In this position I was most unhappy. Where do most people go when they are unhappy? Well, I for one prayed to the one who, I at one point thought, created happiness.
"How are the struggles of the children I haven't barred my fault? I wish to do something, but I know not what anymore. One action seems to be neglect towards one thing or another. How to handle who I am? And to do so in light of who and where they are!? Whoa is me! whoa is me!"
Being one man, having seen much of the world in its audacious tragedy and splendor, being miraculously alive, and being given absorbent gifts, I find myself having much more weight than I previously had.

To be continued...

A reflection on gas guzzling...

2010-10-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

Today as I drove around town it happened again. The gas guzzling SUVs seemed to drive off the road, role down my tongue, settle in my stomach, and spew fumes making me queasy at the materialistic obsessions of our culture. This spell wasn't as bad as others, but still undesired. I don't dislike Americans by nature, and I fight to be sympathetic to those who are unaware, trapped, and even purposefully ignoring the pains of humanity and their status with the ability of change.
No, I don't hate them or myself. It is certainly a struggle, but I won't give into to abhorrent judgement. But I realized something very important today, all I am doing is battling to remain neutral, proactively living inactive. But one important thing I learned in Tanzania is that Jesus' life, and his teaching are to not remain inactive; our life is to be active, and active in love. This is my focus. Fight the good fight. "ποι¦εῖ¦τε as you would have them do to you" (the greek verb is a present active imperative, i.e. requires action now and repeatedly.)

A moment upon re-entry

2010-10-24T14:43:00.000-07:00

I am back in the U.S.
Most likely, I'll start blogging again.
Here is a moment in my room upon re-entry. Hold me to it.

10/6/10
I never thought I would be judgmental upon my return to the states. But none-the-less it arises within me naturally, so natural its almost scary. It clouds up the conversation I am having, and is painted on all the objects I see. I say, "How can they own this? Do they not know the life they would have directly and drastically changed with the money spent for this? Wow, this is nice! Wow, there is so much!" I get upset, and think, "Who are they, who are we, who am I to have this thing here. This just isn't fair!"

I am disconcerted, but at no one and with no one directly. Who am I to place blame when the troubles stretch beyond my comprehension, and the cause far more complicated? I must not let the shock of this bipolar planet destroy my friendships in a moment of hardship and fierce words. If, and when the time comes, I must teach with gentle kindness; share my thoughts, feelings and reactions in honesty. The shock shouldn't control me, but it should certainly affect me.

I am finding myself almost addicted to change and discomfort. Because in these times, I break down, I feel the burning pleasure of re-growth. When I am faced with the sharp contrasts of my friends lives, I again see the change I have had and live with. All lives have detail, so I know their lives aren't mere cookie cutouts, but I think my cutout has now changed shape. These times are rare, the times when I process and re-adapt. I almost wish to remain here, stuck for an hour and a half as nostalgia churns with the present and into reality. It's a drug, that prostrates me, and if I didn't know God, and didn't know I could talk to him at all times in all places, I would hate the drug. But since the later is true, I almost crave it.

I know these times are precious, so I let them flow and fuel me as long as they can. I could decide to just live and do my tasks, I could turn off the engine and let the fuel evaporate after numbered days under the sun; but I won't.

I want something more with my life. I am dissatisfied with the cookie shapes of my friends, and don't want to conform and fall back into a compatible mold. I want greatness! I don't want to lead a boring life, without effect and without changing the world around me. Excellence is my standard. I have a new passion, whether it is attainable or not is inconsequential, I want to make a difference.

My friend Dan has been around me and with me for a while. I want to say he has affected lives like I have, but I don't think he really has. My former resident T. J. said to me, "There is a Tom sized shape missing at Westmont (where I first met him and mentored him)." I finally believe both of these articles. I finally beginning to see myself, and how I am distinguished.

Amidst anyone that I have spent a lot of time around, anyone I am very comfortable with - mostly my friends and family - I loose an edge my character. I am less courteous, but also less boldly challenging and upbringing. If they are not comfortable speaking in God in one way, I comply and cease to speak. I need to speak for myself, from my heart, encourage them to lift theirs and assist them in their effort. My faith is mine own, but my faith means something for theirs.

Fare-thee well United States

2009-10-13T10:22:00.000-07:00

So, here it is, my last blog for quite a while. I probably won't be using this website to blog while away. Right now I am in the Sac airport. Steve and I are awaiting to board a flight to Atlanta, followed by a flight to London!!! There we will take a train to Leeds for a few days, and then back in the city for a few days. Then *insert drum roll* TANZANIA! At which point, I shall explore my communication options, and decide how often to keep a blog. I might be featured on www.worldwideopen.org which is pretty cool. *(insert plug)-They are an incredible organization that dreams to unite the global church. I see this being an incredible ecumenical tool, both in America, and internationally. Go on there and create a profile, you will be surprised where this website goes, and how useful be in the Kingdom of God.* However, I will hopefully be keeping email updates frequently, whether or not I am on the site. But similar scattered stories, thoughts, and poetry that I have tried to share on this blog, will probably be left unsaid, except in my journal.
So here is to an era, a season, a blog that has meant a lot to me. I will however be trying to read others as much as possible. And actually, who knows, you may get a surprise post every now and then. It all depends on the great paradigm shift of life that I am about to undergo.
My thoughts of late have been an internal conversation of these sorts:

"What am I doing? Do I even realize how long 9 months is? Ya, I do. Wow! Why do I realize how much I am going to miss people, and everything when I am alone?
I am not sure whether I want to try to not think about these things, or not? Actually, I think I should, it will make the impact of this journey greater, and I think it is big piece of reality. I have to understand where I have been to understand where I am, and where I am going.
Whoa, I am actually a little scared, and a little anxious. These are both new feelings to me. What is also new to me is the honesty to realize, admit, and accept these feelings, and allow them to guide me. God has taken me a long way. Thanks RA staff. Okay Thomas, accept them, and pray through them. Okay go, pray. And, don't think you are feeling this way because of obligation, trust your feelings, and pray with honesty.
Dang, this is going to be so AWESOME. I need some sleep. I wonder what that old guy across from me is thinking about. Probably wondering where the nearest bathroom is, old people are always worried about their bladder."

Okey dokey, the plane just docked. I guess I'll be boarding in about 15 minutes. Steve is next to me, to have a fellow journeyman and friend that knows me well is comfort. The one thing I have as a goal, is to meet as many people as possible, and share with them the love of Christ, whether we meet on plain, train, town, pub, city, village, or hut. I wish to be self confident enough to smile at others, meet them, look them in eye, and try to bless their life, and make a friend. If you would care to, I request that you ask me when you write a letter or email whether I am constantly doing this throughout my time. Constantly loving all, smiling, befriending, looking people in the eye, and blessing them. Thank you very much my friends, thank you very much indeed.

Today Sacramento,
tomorrow London.
In this journey to grow,
the name of the Son.
Amen.

Doctor Coffee Bean

2009-09-22T15:15:00.000-07:00

Lately my life has consisted of a few things. I'll give the run down so i can quickly get to a few of the more mentionable items.

I wake up with an average of 8 hours of sleep in me, this is the first time this has happened in the past 4 years. I call it bag-reduction. I might promote it, open a business, and live the American dream if it actually worked... and i actually had an American dream.

I usually do one of the three these things soon after awaking. Surf, read/pray, or eat. The latter two usually fall into concurrence with each other.

The rest of my daylight is usually spent in the square mile that makes up Coast Village Rd. to Butterfly beach. My main hub of activity resides between Coffee Bean and Butterfly beach, consisting of seeing old friends, studying swahili, emailing, talking and praying with friends, multiple goodbyes, and obviously blogging.

I often see people who I have said my nine-months-goodbye, and so we proceed to repeat the matter. Right now Korinne Kane is in the lead with a total of four goodbyes. A few are in a close second with three, and many are in third place with double goodbyes. This is not some sort of self-conceited game in which you all must play to win. Its just my fun, creative way to convey to you odd humor that life often has. But if want to play, you now know my schedule so feel free to compete on "Tom's Big Goodbye Give Away!" (Complete with an unlimited amount of hugs, and no commercial breaks for you viewers).

At night if I get hungry enough to catch dinner, I'll enjoy it with a friend.

The nights activities vary from reading to partying.

Now to move onto the two motivators of this blog.
First: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KORINNE KANE!!! She is a wonderful woman whom i have had the pleasure of knowing, and in case you forgot, she is in the lead with four goodbyes!

Second: Yesterday, i was given a pleasant interruption to my schedule. As I sat in Coffee Bean grinding over vocabulary words, I heard a string of familiar baritone rumbles from the seat 4 feet from me. I few bells rung, and I quickly recognized this voice as "Doc" from the great "Back to the Future" trilogy. I raised an eyebrow, tilted my head, and snuck a glance. A great smirk flew on the scene, and I looked back down to hide my recognition and excitement. Yes, Christopher 'Freeking' Lloyd was in within slapping distance from me, and I resisted the temptation to do so, or some other embarrassing gesture. You might be expecting some epiphany or reflection on how celebrities are just normal people and should be treated as such. Well, sorry, that is pretty self explanatory, seeing as i just did. It was an exciting event, and a fun conversational piece which I have been divulging the last 24 hours.
The epiphany I now hold is self interrogative: why do I not talk about the things God does in the same way and in the same manner and tone as I do a celebrity citing? Are they not just as or more exciting than the cite of a science fiction actor?
Let's think about this, say God is a fictional character in the same way the Doc is. Is God not a more captivating and exciting character than a quirky scientist who builds really fast DeLorean? Good thing the Doc is a real character that i can reach out and slap at a coffee shop, right?

A poet is found in the end

2009-09-15T10:31:00.000-07:00

Today as I slowed to a halt at an intersection, a dream drove across in front of me. It was a sky blue, restored convertible car from the fifties. I apologize that my lack of car knowledge inhibits the vision, but imagine a long, smooth hood that rounds down to white rubber wheels and classic, shined hubcaps. The windshield wraps the front of the car, and protected the precious cargo from losing their assorted hats and scarfs. Seated in the front were two old men who seemed finely aged into their seventies. Seated behind them were two matching women, all dressed in clothes that you only buy when you retire.

I dreamed a dream of reunion. I dreamed these two old men having been best friends since five, and maybe after some distance through college at separate schools, were reunited. Soon after they were best men in each others weddings. Of course, the bride in each case was a women they had counseled each other about through many midnights during the long months of courting and engagement. Their wives naturally hit it off, and soon started planning double dates, in which there were never objections from the men, except the request to go to the batting cages instead of the flower garden. During their younger days the women, soft and beautiful, would chatter away in the back seat with matching smiles. The sun was their friend and was glad to soak into their skin, allowing their bodies to turn a radiant gold, the only color that replicated their love for the man seated forefront. As the world smiled at its sky colored ant rolling through dirt roads and hillside, eternal moments of bliss were made.
Over the years children came out crying, and soon it was a month before the couples had seen each other. A month turned into a year, a year turned into a decade, and it became nearly impossible to travel a family of five. Time slowly did its part on the heart, but never on the memory. As grandchildren came the chapters of written careers begin to end, and a conclusions to their life's book began to draw near. The vision of their kin's kin, inspired reminiscence, and a longing grew bubbles large enough to touch across the mileage that separated them. So they met in Montecito, and the old convertible, looking warm as ever, was filled with familiar laughs and love.
I was blessed enough to survey the latter part, and create the former.

However, what if this dream had no resemblance to reality. Sure there is pain and hurt after living seventy years, but doesn't the charity of a poetic dream like that outweigh the gross, reality of life? Maybe this is where my poetic skew that loves happy endings and full circles ends.
I fell into a possible contradiction. The contradiction that keeps me from flying into optimism. Maybe these two couples have absolutely nothing in common, and all four have Alzheimer's, just happen to be at the same retirement community, and felt like a ride. What if the back ladies sit in awkward silence, while the men talk about all the women they got to "know" in the past fifty years. How the drivers feels lucky for not going through the three divorces his companion had, but knows he wished he would have abandoned his wife half way through the marriage to travel the globe with his secret love. What if the women are upset for the convertible, because each are so paranoid about the sun's power over their skin cells.
Neither world is more probable than the other, which do I live in? I am dual minded in nearly everything. I end to be the true poet stuck somewhere in the middle, and praying for the former. Praying for a day when it is all in the former.
I still believe, Maranatha!

metaphor(shore) break

2009-09-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

Today feels like the end of an era. I will forever remember this summer as a gift, as an answer to prayer. I received the blessing of a living space filled with five young men. Evan Engle, Drew Tillman, Ryan Reiner, Craig Sewall, and John Carsenson. This is not a shout out, this is a memo to the world. World, if you ever get to meet these five men, give them a hug for me, look into their eyes and know there is depth behind the shades. There is faith, there is sensitivity, there is care, there is confidence, there is a Lordship alongside them.
I missed our fellow traveler, and when he left, the summer's current and relational chemistry that i began to know as home was washed away. But the surf of the five of us remained. As another departs tomorrow, I feel the surf slowly being swallowed by the sand. Each wave is made up of individuals, and I am grateful and touched to be mixed and welcomed into each wave. I am thankful for each particle of person, especially those five.
On Friday I move out, and on that day it will dry completely. The dryness is near. It does not frighten me, but the heat will come, and it will remind me that I won't last long without another wash of homeliness.
After I dry in the sand, after a time couch surfing and itineration through out California, I will throw myself to the sea. Wherein I will toss and toil, travel, rise in swell, and crash on a new continent. There I will mix with a brand new water, and be apart of a new wave.
This is community.

Clouded Chests

2009-09-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

Almost every other day this summer, 11am has meant, "almost lunch time." This morning it means, "post-breakfast-cereal-blog time." This past weekend I house sat at Dr. Tremper Longman's again. I paralleled it to my last visitation, what a difference eh? Last time i was praying about how Africa plans would pan out, and the rest of the summer, and was soaking up the solitude with joy. This time i was making phone calls about fund raising, ending my summer job, and wondering why despair had decided to join my shirt as its hanging from my neck. That's what kind of a weekend it was, and i have utterly no explanation for it. All i know is that I tried to remedy it, i went through a check list of possible solutions that often bend my physical, mental and spiritual equilibrium. I was eating fine (mostly), exercising, praying, and sleeping fine. There were a few other theories, some of which still remain in deliberation with the jury, but i know the basics were stable. However, for some reason this monkey clung to my back and began picking my nose and trying to make its way through my ears, clogging them, and the world felt deaf to me.
This feeling swelled, until I came back to my apartment. In the initial hours of my homecoming i thought this spell was over. Nope, it came back as soon as i realized it might be over. It swelled, until it crashed on the shores of my pride. I knew i needed to ask someone to pray with me, not just for me, but with me.
I then realized i was staging an inner battle. As if behind your rib cage there are two clouds colliding, a stormy one that wishes to weigh you down with its soaking drops, and a bright, pure, and white cloud that wishes to brighten the day from the inside. But the trick is all along, the rain cloud only has so much water before it dissipates, and the white cloud of righteousness is fueled and ignited by the warmth of the sun. I have not a strong idea of what the sun is, whether it is my own ability to keep searching, or the Holy Spirit, or Christ "in me," but i do know that whatever it was, it blazed in a time of prayer, and burned away the gray. I went to Ryan and Craig, and asked them to pray for me, and failed to express my feelings (big surprise there right... well maybe sometimes i guess). As they both prayed for me, somewhere amongst there sentiments and pleads to our Lord, i felt something swell against the wave of despair, and "it" was over.
Thank you Ryan, thank you Craig, thank you God.

Two Face

2009-08-29T17:12:00.000-07:00

I had promised myself to continue writing blogs. That seems to be the only prompting for this blog, a promise. I sit here, again, with no compelling thoughts that i must share before they split my thorax, screaming like the infamous little friend in the blockbuster hit, Alien (and Alien 2, and 3). We'll shouldn't promises be something worth writing about? Yes... the answer you were looking for is Yes.

I think promises are metaphors of faith. Sometimes being faithful is simply sticking to your commitments and promises. Even though they make no sense, even though there is no reason or inner compulsion, you should stick to your promises. Just like faith, faith is not faith if it is only convenient, and sensible. Both faith and promise require follow through no matter what, and for no reason. Half of life is presence, showing up, continuing in your commitments.

Now let me express to you my dualistic mind by turning the coin. If half of life is just showing up, and all you do is show up, you have only living half a life. The other half i think comes with expressing the seven virtues of presence. Recently i have been reading Foster and Beebe's book, "Longing For God," and it continues to blow my mind. I am constantly realizing that much of what i have thought, believed, experienced is congruent to those of the expressions of our Church Fathers. Thank you Evagrius of Ponticus for outlaying the Seven Virtues. I would also like to call them the Seven Practices of Presence. The other half of life comes when you are present and expressing temperance, justice, courage (fortitude), and prudence (wisdom), faith, hope, and love. A practical expression of these is possible in every single moment and every interaction of our day.

I'm not sure which is harder. What i do know, is that i am about to be late for a dinner with my beloved family if i don't stop this blog in five seconds so maybe right now promises are harder, but i doubt it because

Bold as Love

2009-08-23T14:35:00.001-07:00

It has been over a month since my last blog. I don't know why, I've played all kinds of positions on the baseball diamond of life over the past month. Surely there has been some worth while thoughts worth recording, i don't know why they never got their blogging recognition. But i finally figured that i needed to get back into the habit, especially if i am planning to keep a steady, organized, and thorough blog while i am in Africa; i should get some practice now, at least habitually. So here goes the beginning of a habit (they say that psychologically it takes 30 days to create a habit... i always thought it was seven repetitions... oh well, either way, raise your glass with me as i begin and toast to habitual blogging!)

The last few days I have been pondering a question we must all ponder if we are to call ourselves Christians. Where is Jesus? How do I love Him now, today?
I walked along the beach yesterday pondering this question while waves crashed and proved a distraction for my senses, allowing my mind to run freely. "If only Jesus was still visible!" I said. If He had a physical body, if i could talk to him, if i could feed him, it would be so easy! I can serve my apartments by cleaning the house or kitchen, but i can't even do that for my King and Savior? Do we as a culture even know the fullness of Kingship if we live in a culture that is anti-serfdom. That's a tangent for another day, maybe tomorrow's blog? Anyway, why is it that i readily move grease from the stove-top to the paper towel, and then the trash out of love of cleanliness and my friends well-beings, but can't i can't figure out how to love Jesus?

Then, alike the arrival of golden toast, the epiphany flies and settles on the springs of my cortex. Didn't Jesus break the bread, and call it his body? Whoa... that takes toast to a whole new level... No stop it Thomas, get back on topic. Okay wait, His body is the Church right? Well shoot, what are his eyes? His eye's are all those who believe? But what about God sending rain on the righteous and unrighteous? Uh, is God's body everyone? Or the Church? The Church is his body, but God loves all, being apart of a body is a choice... maybe...

An angler throws his lure, preferably fly, into a pool of water. He places it in that spot because he can sense, or see the shadow of a fish just below the shimmering surface. He longs for the fish to follow curiosity and hook its snout, he longs to get a glimpse and experience the being he has sought and hunted with skill, he longs for his own curiosity to be satisfied. It is with that same longing that i have longed to see the eyes of Jesus. But i am beginning to believe that when i gaze into eyes of another person, i see the eyes of God, I see Jesus' eyes, the body of Christ. The metaphor is less metaphysical than i assumed. I hope to make this a reality.

When i was younger (ha) I believed a line to be true. To butcher it politely, it went something like this, "The confident, the strong look people in the eyes when you talk to them. It shows respect." Somehow over the years i lost the ability to hold a gaze. When I look someone straight in the eyes i feel something, I'm almost scared. It's almost sacred. I can't explain it. But I think it shows love. Its hard for me to look someone in the eyes continuously, while simultaneously speaking. But i will try. Pecos does this well, he always has, and when he does not, i know there is something wrong. To me, love is bold, Jesus is bold. To look someone in the eyes and understand that those are Christ's eyes peering back at you, is bold. Lets see how this goes.

A taste of Maui

2009-07-13T01:03:00.000-07:00

Amidst many adventures that vary from:
cliff, house and rock jumping,
beach-slip and sliding,
island camping,
bbq and bon-firing,
midnight cave diving,
vivid snorkeling,
illegal turtle hugging,
being molested by a turtle (that is a story for another time),
spear fishing,
paddle boarding,
outrigger canoeing,
hiking, and
golfing,
there had been one remaining experience i craved.
That experience, was to be in a serene moment on a beach, engulfed in sunshine while watching the engulfer set upon the endless ocean, resting topless on a lawn chair, sand between the toes, and margarita resting in hand. Today that happened, and the smoke from my ash-ended cigar held in opposite hand of the margarita, exceeded the moment, and solidified the momery. There I sat with with the bearings of my creation on each side of me, mother on the left and father on the right. We sat nestled in under a tin roof that was pinnacle of the cove, and directly across from us the sun sat behind an island, igniting the sky. Competition with the conversation was provided by each clear blue wave as it softly crashed on the shore. This is moment, the idealistic moment, was made a reality, and all at once, i knew i was on and at the end of my vacation.
So now i lay less than 30 yards from that same beach, nestled on a friends couch, watching geckos discover the ceiling amongst the cover of a dark night. The stars are bright, and i will watch them until the hourly shower of rain comes, then go back inside and sleep until another day of tropical amusement is brought to life by the sun. That is, if the children that also live in this house don't wake earlier and decide they want another early morning wrestling match.
I still have one more day, then as the locals say, "Back to the mainland ya? Shoots."

Thank you God. Thank you God.

Oh and did i forget to mention that i just realized yesterday after being here for 6 days that i am three hours behind California, not ahead... wow...

A moment of humor.

2009-06-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

Work is changing. This week there was a lot more chitchat in the trailer between my boss, a subcontractor, and myself this week. There was one moment that stands out above the others.

Inside our dusty trailer my boss and i were reclined and talking about something or other. I'm not really sure what; it could have been anything under the sun including current events, previous crazy experiences, funny stories, a joke, or something legitimately concerning our job site. Basically, we were "BS-ing" as usual (which is actually more educational than you would think).
My boss BS-es a lot, and with just about everybody. But that is one of his very effective tricks in supervising. You see, when a story is shared between two people, particularly people on different levels of business hierarchy (i.e. a boss and employee), there is an interesting connection that forms. BS-ing usually results in the listener of the story liking and feeling more comfortable with the teller. But the teller (usually the boss) still feels no pity to lessen any business or load of duty, simply because a story has been told, this still leaves him ultimately in control (or he has "Hand" as they would say in Seinfeld). Neither feel particularly close to one another after the story, nor do they even like each other more. Its a way of creating a business relationship. Nothing personal is shared and your remain fairly invulnerable to the other party. Your guts aren't spilled and nor is there often a lesson taught or a point disputed. A simple eccentric story is told, and usually the characters might as well have aliases. The story simply creates ground to interact with each other on, without necessitating a liking, nor negating or confusing possible roles. This is very key, for once the line of friendship is possibly breached, things become complicated. One party feels more comfortable to antagonize, argue, or simply deny a request. A party also can feel like more compelled to comply with a request, but this is rare. But when enough BS-ing does go on between one party or another, a friendship can be formed. My boss is included in enough of the stories he tells me that i have actually gotten to know him quite well. This is probably because i would because i have already shown my faithful obedience to the job and there is no fear in crossing the "danger friend zone" in the relationship. Otherwise i would probably lose my job, if ever chose to refuse orders.

So during one of these moments after lunch, Steve the framer stepped into the trailer with his toothless grin and looked at us both. Steve often comes in stealing food or just looking for a joke or a light of a smoke. He is a comical fellow, and always welcome. My boss said smirkingly, "What do you want?"

Steve replied, "I want some of your peanuts."

I responded, "You're always after someone's peanuts." At first they both grinned and were a bit shocked, for this was one of the first times i and divulged my humour to them. Then they both went into a large belly laugh, the kind that warms the heart and reminds children of Santa Clause. Steve, even amongst being the butt of the joke, turned and reached his hand out to be clasped in a manly, congratulatory way. I accepted it.

bracelet

2009-06-15T23:20:00.001-07:00

Today is that day. The day when a fresh cycle of style begins. The day when a part of me feels cold and naked. A day when I long simultaneously for the newness and aged relationship between me and a friend. Today is that day when I cut the bracelet, revealing a full four season's worth of solid tan-line. Alike the lazy circular form that hung from my wrist, change is a continuous and never ending cycle. After a certain distance we are accustom to the change, and then it only becomes a pattern, and is again repeated. Today is the day when i cut my actual bracelet. Memories are still present, but the reminder is not. The compliments will still come, just not from that old attention grabber. I hope to reconstruct a replica soon, so the cycle can begin again.

Home to house to house to Home

2009-06-14T23:15:00.000-07:00

Well world, I am back, burned red, and set for action. The past week has been a bit hypocritical. The places that I was expecting to find relaxing only provided and fulfilled opportunity to be busy, and relaxation too the back seat. First, i was home for the sister's high school graduation. If you have been back to your old high school, you probably know the awkward, nostalgic feeling that it is. But it was a little hectic with her party and everything. So i drove home with my brother and arrived about 10pm, spent twenty minutes at my apartment to collect my things, and then went over to begin my house sit at Tremper Longman's house. I dubbed their enormous and well fu(e)rnished garden (its a pun, get it...) "The Garden of Eden" and their blooming plum tree "The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil." Oh how i love R.S. nerd jokes. The 20 plus year old structure, cleanliness, and antique decorations thoroughly reminded me of my grandparents house. But the dog livened things up with its constant golden retriever energy. It was a blessing to be in a house and know the experience of the comfort of your own home filled with a luscious garden. The flip side to that is the upkeep of the garden, which is actually well worth it. I ended up not relaxing there as much as i expected. I had many accompaniments thoughout the week, sharing a good thing makes it a great thing. There are so many things i could say about that week, but I have only come to a few conclusions. 1) I want a hot tub when I have my own home. 2) I want a dog, but I'm not sure i want a golden retriever, since while walking their dog i was kindly reminded by an elderly lady that the dog matches my hair. 3) I want fruit trees in a my yard. 4) People make a house a home. 5) Dr. Longman is awesome, and so is his living establishment.
Leaving many many fun details aside, I have finally found my rest back in my lovely apartment in Carpinteria.

PS: Read "The Brothers K" It will make you LOL, cry, and then want to do it again... and your wish will be fulfilled in a surprising way.

Few Poems

2009-05-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

Ok, so i was sitting at the beach today soaking in the blessing of serenity and calmness that lies a 60 second walk away from me. Here are my observations amidst enjoying a splendorous book.
Two Poems:

My first look up
Wind tickles the hair of my chest.
While white wings like lightening plunge their beaks into the sea,
an orange orb ducks behind a tree to hide it's beams.

I looked left as saw a couple at work
A pair waddle like penguins,
water rushes inches from their shuffle,
but their synchronous swing pervades
the rhythmic waves,
of salt water
and large portioned diets.

7 days travelled past the fork... i shoulda picked it up

2009-05-17T18:33:00.000-07:00

Howdie,
Here i sit sprawled across my living room floor in my brand new apartment. I am living with a solid crew, Rhyno, Engleman, Diva Drew, Johnny C, Craigory, and we had the honor of Robby G's presence for a little, but he drove to our home in Sac this morning. The apartment is awesome, cheap, a 25 second walk from the beach (which i plan to take full advantage of), soon to be fully furnished, relaxing and lively all at once, and spacious shown even in fact that we have two bathrooms for the six of us (better ratios than Westmont). I am definitely feeling the May gloom, and wish the sun would come out and brighten my life, but i guess to play on a cheesy metaphor, the Son came out 2000 years ago, and i need to remember that and allow the rays of His spirit to brighten my life... but common on Big Yellow, get the picture and push those clouds out of the way, bring the heat!

It has been a very difficult week, i am understanding the anxiety of life in a world where you are dependant on the money an occupation to live, to survive. Of course i could go and be a world traveller, paying next to nothing and living with next to nothing, but that stage may come in time, probably in 4 months when i leave to Africa. For now, it is good to know, feel, and understand the reality of this anxiety, and relate to the rest of the working world, which holds the majority of the population strongly, so that i can better love and minister to those people. That has been a great challenge thus far, having the courage, confidence, and love to serve those who i am working with at the constructions sites. For those of you that don't know, i am the assistant superintendent at the construction of the faculties home's near Westmont. It is a blessing to have a job, but it would also be a blessings to actually have some work that i felt useful at, and my well-spring of potential being tapped. That will take some patience, and i must continue to seek God in this time, and love Him and the people around me more than ever. Simply because it is the hardest time to do so, and at those difficult moments, when you have one hand on the tip of the cliff and your body flailing below, when that hand is most important. Right now, faith, service, diligence, concentration, trust, patience, and every spiritual discipline of Christianity, is that hand. I'm glad Christ is the rock i am grasped to. Maybe the metaphor would be more accurate if Christ was on top of the cliff and grasped firm to my forearm, for our God is a living and moving God.

All that being said, i miss Westmont already. I am not having withdrawals, but i do sincerely miss it. I know that the one thing i will continually miss is Chapel, and the walks around campus. I know that currently, miss my RA Staff, my guys, the classes, and the freedom to be constrained in our schedule. I am finding that those who clog their schedules at Westmont, whom i am apart of, are actually expressing their freedom righteously, for later in life we are unable to clog our schedule with such blessed things that Westmont offers, and taking advantage of them is wise. I can't wait for the day when i get that freedom again. I think it will come most weekends, and in Africa. More details on the Africa trip are pending, and will be unfolded in good time.

Book references: A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanouken (including letters from C.S. Lewis); 1 and 2 Timothy by St. Paul

Current Reading: The Brothers K by David James Duncan

PS: I get to house sit/dog sit at Tremper Longman's house. I can't wait. I think if i was going to go to seminary right now, i would go into Old Testament Studies. I am realizing that i am really interested and like that stuff a lot. I should have understood this last year when i took my OT class.

Question to all you graduates: What two major's w0uld you take if you could do Westmont again. My answer, after much deliberation, would be English and Kinesiology

Current Favorite Qoute: "It is not who you know, but whome you know." Unknown

oh Westmont.

2009-04-25T00:34:00.000-07:00

Here is a little poem for you all Westmont people.

DTR (determine the relationship)
It's come to be that time
when the garden needs water
when warm sheets need a friend
when stars need to rise
over the great expanse, a blanket is spread
containing a millions of twinkles
and two below resting on a blanket.

Lazy Thursday

2009-04-16T09:07:00.000-07:00

Welp, if i had to pick a theme song for the last two weeks it would be "Roller Coaster." And if i had to pick a movie scene, it would probably be Will Farrell playing Ron Burgundy in Anchorman right after his dog Baxter gets kicked off a bridge, he is hysterically (in both meanings) screaming at the top of his lungs, "I'm in a glass case of emotion!!!!!!"
On another note, I love proctoring exams. It pays well, i get two hours to do homework or something else such as blogging, and i get to encourage a bunch of students as they stress about their rather unimportant grade and test. I love encouraging them when they look up at me, almost all of them do at some point. I usually will try out my new funny faces on them, or just revert back to some classics like "the high eye brows," or the "semi smile," or the "wide mouth," or the "shoulder shrug to eye role to standing and doing a back flip off the desk"... i might change that one to "The Pecos." I have been working on my Korinne face, the awkward "i'm confused, and a little disappointed" look, but it just hasn't come to fruition yet, at its not the most encouraging during an exam. Maybe I'll have to get some training from her.
One of my favorite things about proctoring is just watching people's reactions. I had no idea people had such similar reactions, i think i recognize all their faces and actions as something i have done before too. The "look at the ceiling an talk to yourself," the "head super glued to palm until i remember this little detail i studied," or the "oh gosh... I'm hungover, and i think someone knows it" (that one i haven't experienced so much... or at all really), "or the "if i just keep staring I will remember, if i just keep staring i will remember... if i just keep staring i will.... HEY I REMEMBER!!". But anyway, this is just an example of a continued life lesson i am learning.
People react similarly and very basic tendencies. And, i am not crazy for just acting as i feel or reacting as i do sometimes, for that is all these people in front of me are doing. But, this is always counterbalanced with the truth that people are soooo different from me, and each other. What i know is different than what someone else knows, and my reaction is going to be different. I need to be confident in who i am, and focused in my present moment, not matter what that may be, reacting honestly, but also evaluating that reaction, and interpreting. Sometime, i can trust my reactions immediately, other times i need to keep my mouth shut and evaluate before speaking or acting. It is an ebb and flow, a trial and error process. There are going to be mistakes, and successes. Life is so complex, and so very simple. There is nothing like the human life.
Random: Everybody thinks and feels. Everybody determines what they feel based on how they think sometimes, and everybody determines what they think based on how they feel sometimes. The question is just which one comes first more frequently. I think it is based on which chemicals in the brain are exercised more and have been exercised more through out thier life. Since there is a history of practice and neurological path ways established (based on those chemical reactions) then those paths are more frequently taken over the other, and it is easier for that person to take that path. This theory is based on a few things: 1, very little knowledge on the details of psychoneurology. 2, people are creatures, and alike all other creatures, will most commonly react how it is easiest for the body to react; In other words, people are lazy. 3, That it actually is easier to react primarily one of the processes (i.e. thought to feel, or feel to thought) before the other. I think people could sit and control thier reactions and actions if given the time to dwell, and that does not make them a thinker for doing so, for both much feeling and thinking would occur.

Duece Duece and a napkidding.

2009-04-07T00:26:00.000-07:00

So thus concludes the best birthday i have ever had. Pssshhh, and they say Disneyland is the happiest place on Earth, well i wasn't there today as i thought i would be, and i have never been happier. I love birthdays because they give you land marks to reflect upon the past year from, much like Christmas and every widely celebrated holiday i guess. But i was thinking back to last year and the party in Hieronymus Lounge and the events that followed. That was truly an incredible day, and a blessed time. At that point in life, i said to myself, "this is the best life has ever been, and its only going to keep getting better." Today, nearing the end of the 24 hours of constant blessings, i found myself repeating the words, and remembering that i said them last year, and sincerely thanking God that he has brought be through another year and i am able to say the same thing in even more confidence than before. God's faithfulness gives me hope for the future.
Here is how the day transpired.
I woke up and had a grand breakfast during a chit-chat with Katie, and then i spent my morning with the Lord until class started. After hearing Kihlstrom rant on about Spring Sing in his typical hilarious fashion, i went to Chapel. At the time, i thought this was the best gift i could receive on a birthday. I was given the opportunity to serve those whom i love so much and wash people's feet.
*Tangent
It caused me to think about which was harder for my pride to humble itself to, letting your feet be washed, or washing someone else's feet. For me it is the former. But true humility does not distinguish, it simply is lack of shame and pride in all circumstances, and being willing to accept and serve in all as well.
*End Tangent
But anyway, my heart broke this morning out of joy when i looked up into a few particular faces before i washed their feet. We were bonded a harmonious chord in the water as our hands and feet met, each providing love for the other to receive. I truly understood this when my feet were washed, not once, but twice. This experience in Chapel was heavy and rich, and i processing it is easier and justified just in the memory and accepting its vastness; as much as i would like to try to describe it, it doesn't need words to make it complete or fully understood.
Then i enjoyed good company with someone i had been meaning to catch up with, he treated me to a home cooked grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, it was delectable and much enjoyed. I then came back from his apartment to the Westmont library and spent the next hour and a half reading some of C.S. Lewis, could i have picked a better author for the day?
The next hour and a half was spent with a good friend, one i have much future hope for, one whom i love and care about much. We lifted some metal together and then enjoyed a run. This lead nicely into a Clark BBQ where i was met with many faces and cheers of happy birthdays. A burger and fruit salad never tasted so good then when your body is a bit sore and cotton mouth is creeping up. It was typical Clark BBQ, full of laughs, dancing, music, and just good ole chillin. Oh, and Korinne and i had quite a lot of fun figuring out what my invitation to Spring Formal is going to be.
Towards the end of the BBQ my brother showed up, and that was a pleasant surprise. We reconvened later that night after he listened to the lecture he came for and i did some studying. He left when it came time for Vida groups, and that's when the real trouble started...
We awaited for the arrival of a few members, cracking jokes and having a grand time. Pecos walks in the room and announces that he is going to give me "something." He had forewarned me about his giving earlier, and at this point i thought he was going to give me something really sweet that he made, like painting. So i stood to face him, and he asked me put my hands behind my back. I hesitated and asked him not to hit me in the groin, and then after his assurance i put them behind my back. At this point i had no idea what it was, and was racking my brain trying to figure out why my hands had to be behind my back for whatever he was going to give me. But immediately after my hands were halfway back behind me, they were grabbed and restrained by all of my guys that had showed up that night. And if you don't know the average height and weight in my section is about 6'2'' 200 lbs of muscle. So as much as i wanna convince myself that i could have gotten away, the fact is that the completely dominated me. Within a minute my hands were duct-tapped behind my back, my feet together, my eyes were blindfolded, and my mouth tapped shut (and at that moment i thanked God for Spring Sing, simply because it compelled me to shave). So after giving in and now fearing for my life that i will soon be tapped to a tree, or pantless, or dropped off a cliff like Aladdin (minus the genie), or all of the above which should give you the image a falling tree crying out for a lamp for help as it plummets into the oceans deep... Ya, thank God that didn't happen. Instead, i was hucked into the bed of Pecos' truck face down a sweatshirt (that was so nice of them), and then left to the company of Josh and the rushing wind which left me feeling quite vulnerable, especially when the whizzing increased and i realized that i was speeding in the back of an open bed on the freeway going 65+ miles an hour. At this point i didn't know whether we were headed North or South, all i knew was that i could easily be killed, and i was thankful to God for every moment thus far, and if i was going to die, then i was happy to go out this way and prepared to go home. But also, i thought of how hilarious it would be to be pulled over by the cops. I'll just let your imagination run with that one.
So when the car finally came to a halt, i was hoisted upon two men's shoulders and carried like a pig to a fire pit inside, where i heard many familiar voices and was so excited to know who and where i was. I was seated down and the blindfold was removed. Then before my eyes so many many faces of people whom i love appeared and rang out the charming melody of Happy Birthday. I looked around and caught a sign that said "Fro yo-yum-yum." So many unexpected faces as smiling back gave me such a great joy, the smile never left my face, and even when i returned i had to just sit alone and let my facial muscles relax. There have been times when i felt my heart grow warm, but in this moment, on this day, and the rest of the evening and even now as i type, my heart isn't just warm, its glowing like the coals you love to roast marshmallows on. The coals coals that glow and you feel at any moment the touch of them upon any material would set it a blaze, and the beauty of a flame would strike up. I think that's maybe a better metaphor for us as Christians that fire. We are coals, and we ignite each other when in community. I'm not going to expand that much more right now, but i hope to live that way, that i would be so joyful inside, that i would ignite with every interaction.
The night concluded with a very joyous CRAM (Clark RA meeting), in which we all shared cake, and talked about middle names a residence business, typical random awesome RA stuff. I'm glad i got to see them, i love them very much. So now i sit in bed, reveling in this most excellent day. A day which, as if the ridiculous number of text messages and facebook comments wasn't enough, i was reminded that i am severely loved by people, and through them, severely loved by God. But, i think the most important part of the day came in Chapel, the time when Christ was focused on, and we as a body came together in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and without him, this day would have never been this way, God's holiness, love, redemption was truly evident on this day.

Drums...

2009-03-22T23:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, so somebody left a marching drum in our hall sometime during dinner. I leave and return to find a white yamaha bass marching drum standing up in front of my door. So many questions immediately came to mine, such as "what sort of kind hearted individual would choose to bless the men of G with such a magnificent instrument of glory? what am i supposed to do with this drum? why did they refuse to leave mallets? what the heck am i going to do with this? where did it come from? does the yamaha factory family miss their long lost brother (or sister)? what the frick am i going to do with this drum????!!!!" I then rolled the drum into my room for safe keeping and part time storage. As i returned from a nights activities including Vespers, and hangout/music making in the Borden's room complete with a chant i have entitled "where are the women/sausage... fest!" which lasted a grand total of 5 minutes (the 5 minutes Annie Mason was missing from our presence).
So now i sit, inspired once more to articulate the life of Tom Shank via blog. I came back back to G and rolled the drum out of my room to resist the temptation to bang on it all night and to avoid the danger of stubbing my toesies on it in the morning. I am awaiting a night of wrestles sleep due to the countless gunshots which no doubt are decapitating countless zombies on the TV on the other side of the wall, and the sporadic banging of the drum, which has already had its first encounter with Lucas i believe. Nick came out and documented it, God bless his soul, and then continued to run with an elaborate story which eventually led to dubbing our new prized possession, "The gnome drum" (it is an extended inside joke). Welp, goodnight, and God Bless you all.

"You Look Horrible"

2009-03-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

Ok, so here is whats up. The last 4 days i have been sick. Everytime i lay my head to my couches armrest it snuggles up to and whispers, "no don't go... you are sick, just a little longer..." And typically my response has been, "Ya, you are right, i'm sick, i deserve to rest and let my body get recover, but just for an hour of nap." I don't know if i am using this sickness as an excuse to be lazy and mop around with hunched shoulders as i walk from the soup station in the DC back to my room. I think it hits harder at different moments. Either way, this is the first time being sick this year, and it suuuucks.
Last night i took some night-quil (sp?) for the first time, great and bad decision. I zonked out immediately, and again when i awoke, my pillow whispered the same thing to my as my couch, I can't believe it!! THEY ARE IN KAHOOTS WITH EACH OTHER!!! Except i think the pillow is a more vicious enemy. Its strength is weaker, it only postponed my day 17 minutes instead of 60, but its timing is impeccable, for i was seven minutes late to proctoring Dr. Longman's OT test. I practically fell out of bed, into my shoes, and found the same clothes as yesterday (minus the pj pants). I walked in to a silent classroom, and no Dr. Longman, and i thought, "well, this could be really good or really bad." He showed up 5 minutes later and walked in and the first thing he said was, "You look horrible."
(Digression)
This is the second time someone a professor has told me verbatim, "You look horrible", and it was senior year, but of highschool. I had pulled an all nighter writing my poetry anthology in the typical Thomas fashion. But this time, he sent me home after i laid on the ground in the back and passed out for the the first 30 minutes. I love good ole Mr. Moses and the good times Brian Pancoast and i had there. But he and that class is another story altogether, another 50 stories altogether.
(And were back)
Even though as i sat there in front of Longman realizing that i'm not feeling too horrible, and have certainly felt worse, i gave in anyway and said, "ya i'll probably be skipping classes today." And then followed up with, "I'm going to stay though, i need the money."
So now here I sit in front of 60 students. None of them realize that i am writing this blog, that girl in the corner doesn't know i just looked at her, and neither does that guy, oh there we go, i got some eye contact! Proctoring exams is fun, its kinda weird too, they assume that the subprof knows everything... i might flunk the test if i took it... na i'de probably get a C, but still, i almost want to tell them all... but that wouldn't do anything. Ok, that concludes this blog. I am going to end on a sober and sad note though. I am going to be praying today about still going on PC. At this moment, its a no, but we'll see what the day brings.

Passion's Conference of enemies and oppressed.

2009-02-08T16:48:00.000-08:00

"You must make your heart a spiritual temple, a temple where you can go to adore Him incessantly"
These are the words of Brother Lawrence in Practicing the Presence of God. They caused me to reflect of a theme that came up this week. By a various different people i was given the encouraging words, "Tom, you have a good heart, a caring heart." I think Mark, Aimee, Amanda, and probably one other person told me this. It meant the world to me; its incredible what an encouraging word will do for a person, particularly in times of doubt. But all this talk about heart caused me to reflect on an instance that happened a few weeks ago (mid/late January) last year.

Beau, Arianna, Courtney, Tim, Pecos, Matt Miller, and others all went to Passion conference together. On the second day we were walking towards the staples center in downtown LA when we saw a fairly disheveled man get chased and yelled at by another well kept looking man, with certainly more anger. Tim reached out with a call to stop the better kept man from chasing and verbally abusing the other man. I, not wanting to have conflict, told Tim to stop and encouraged him to let the men be and keep walking. After a week of recalling that moment and feeling convicted that my actions were not out of a compassionate heart that hates injustice (1 Cor 13.), i found Tim in the DC back at Westmont and told him that i thought he was right in trying to stop that man.

Now the moment comes back to me, and i am struck again, for when the weak are protected, a hatred towards the afflicting creeps up. But that is not the heart of Jesus either, or Steven, or any of the other formed apostles for that matter. They loved even those who persecuted in much more atrocious ways then the well kept man. I should yes recognize that the LA conflict had lines of injustice and should seek to defend those patronized, for whatever reason, but i should also recognize that the man patronizing is loved just as much, and probably more (Luke 8). I, and we as Christians, should have pity on those who afflict, for their hurt and brutal anger is just as much in need of healing and grace, as the heart of the afflicted. We should love our enemies, those who hate, as much as those who are hated. This is much more true only if Jesus truly loves all people, and all everyone has a chance of heavenly life... I'm still working through that right now... and probably will be for a long time coming.

The Beginning of the End

2009-01-30T01:20:00.001-08:00

Wow, im sorry ya'll, i had envisioned this blog being kept more up to speed. But i guess somethings are sacrificed when you are in college.

So my last semester of College started... dang. This is a crazy thought. I never imagined me saying that, and i still don't touch the reality of it. But honestly, i think this has been one of the absolute best starts to any of my semesters. In all areas of my life. Mostly though i have learned the importance of these aspects: prayer, humility, discipline, honesty, trust, and confidence. The proper action of these things in my life has really shaped it events for the better.

Since i have been back in school, i have been on 4 planes, went from 75 degrees full of beaches and sunshine to 12 degrees of cold snow in the same day (traveled to Boston and back), been in a wedding, read multiple books, got a new computer, taken up swimming and am almost starting to enjoy it, gone through a mature heartbreak and recovered, and been shamed by my sin. I am loving my classes this semester and i have been engaged in the class periods and outside materials. Steve Denler and I just sent in applications to AIM (Africa Inland Mission) and are eager to see what God is going to do. What a good life this is!

I think i had some profound thoughts i wanted to write about earlier, and also wanted to write in detail about my Boston trip, but its too far in the past for me to try and recount many details. All i have is praise and a request for mercy. Amen

PS: Here is a cheezy, rudimentary poem i wrote to the couple i sat with on my way to Boston.

The Couple
A 50 years young couple sits next to me.
Yet, only an eighth of those together.
Their prolonged joy is seen and resonates on the others cheek with every kiss.
With Red-Sox accents they speak,
but with googley eyes they communicate.
First encountering each other through the sport of cycling,
but first knowing each other after their wheels were placed on each others fingers.
Together they ride the bike of timeless romance and love,
till death does its part.

Von Schenk

2009-01-08T00:37:00.000-08:00

So this is the first post of the New Year. Its going to be a crazy and exciting one. New Years are great because it commonly unites humanity in their stages of reminiscence over the past and commitments to hopeful futures. Its just a cool bond that humans share, which are seemingly rarer and rarer these days.

I just got back from seeing the movie Valkyrie staring Tom Cruise. What is so incredible about this movie is that i am related to Claus Philipp Maria Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg. He is, by marriage, my Grandfather's second cousin. Which means that his wife, has the same blood as i do. That is encouraging. No, more than that, it is inspiring and moving. To think that i have the same blood coursing through my veins as those who supported and stood against one of the most tyrannous and atrocious evils ever existing in human history, moves my soul.

Recently i was spending time with my Grandma, i realized how humble she is and how her honest and servant heart shines even in her old age. I see how that has been passed down to my Dad, and to me.

So in the recent viewing of Valkyrie, and in her speaking, i feel as if it is no accident that i have this increasing desire to stand for justice, and be a courageous warrior - of sorts - for God's kingdom. This will stay with me for a while. The legacies left before me are the legacies running through me. These legs will probably walk oversees, and who knows what legacies will be left by my footprints.

MR. KRATCHET!!!

2008-12-25T23:38:00.000-08:00

Ok, so not to start this blog off on an off-key note or anything, but i just found out i am on urbandictionary.com. That is pretty cool, i mean im not the most hoped for definition, but still cool... I hope its not Gieve or Ethan or someone else playing a trick on me.

So today is Christmas. This is the most time i have spent around only my immidiate family in a while. It is the last time i am allowed to sleep at my home for more than a week without having to pay rent, thats wierd. But we at the Shank household have a long line of traditions, starting on Christmas eve. We go to a Christmas eve service, come back, sit around and eat homemade Christmas tree cookies, burn a Yule log, try and get the angel chimes to work, and usually open a present of PJ's. Then we watch Charles Dickens, "A Christmas Carol," featuring George C. Scott (its the best version) in which we all fall asleep to it at some point or another, then rest our heads untill the sun rises. In the morning, we eat some breakfast in front of the fire, poor out our stockings which include every single year: a can of pringles, some floss picks, gum, a trinket thats freshens or a stainpen, some chocolate, and some other random stuff (my mom does stocking stuffing just right!). Then we elect (bicker until someone volunteers) someone to be "Santa Clause" and hand out the presents, opening in order one-by-one.

This year was marvelous, i loved the events, and we almost went through the entire day without a big debate, argument, or fight. This year it was a minor one over the family cribbage tournament. It was a great day, God has really helped to change our family over the years, or at least my view of our family. Today, i went for a prayer run, and i'll tell ya what, it really helped me appreciate my family for who they are. Even though we didn't mention Jesus much through out the day, i could see him in our actions. Everyone's buttons got pressed at some point during the day, and in the past that would have lasted all day, but today, i watched patience stretch itself and mask my family's faces. I saw my brother recognize his imposition, and calm himself, i worked myself through a few situations by letting my heart let go of selfishness, and i saw my sister accept a present with only minor critiques, and then later shower the giver with compliments of thanks a praise. What a blessed day it was!!! I forgot about how hard it is to serve, especially when at home when you would think it would be easiest (its the hardest for me). But being home, and experiencing a Christmas like this one, really helped me to understand why Jesus came, and why we celebrate his birth.

I celebrate it today because if he didn't come, i would have probably put my brother in a choke hold dispite his thoughtfulness in giving me a tool set. I celebrate because he redeemed my family, and has given me comfort and is teaching me to appreciate my family, and love them without constant critique. He is turning the Mr. Scrooge i am at home, into an Ebenezer.

Celestial Days (Why i love C.S. Lewis)

2008-12-24T13:41:00.000-08:00

So its Christmas break, i just read "The Great Divorce" and loved it. The following excerpts explain why, and why i love C.S. Lewis.

"I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she were naked, then it must have been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the the happy grass. If she were clothed, the the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her innermost spirit shone through the clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise; the spiritual body lives along each thread and turns them into living organs, A robe or a crown is there as much one of the wearer's features as a lip or an eye." (pg 120).

and

"Pity was meant to be a spur that drives joy to help misery." (131).

and

"There is but one good, that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him, and bad when it turns from Him." (106).

I'm not sure i agree with all of the theology Lewis throws out, but i think its a pretty good description of some people, and something to consider. Its probably the most feasible explanation of why people go to Hell that i have read thus far.