These Hard Times

Give me something brighter
Give me something I can see
Give me something vicious
Give me something I can be
Give me all the love and peace
To end these wars
Give me something sacred
Something worth fighting for

It's clear enough to me
The ugliness I see
Is evidence of who I need

Give me an answer
Give me a way out
Give me the faith
To believe in these hard times

Give me motivation
Give me all my heart's desires
Show me something gorgeous
Show me till my eyes get tired
Give me all the drums and
Show me how to play them loud
Show me how to move
When I can't feel that you're around

It's clear enough to me
The ugliness I see
Is evidence of who I need

Give me an answer
Give me a way out
Give me the faith
To believe in these hard times

We hide like theives in shadows
Scared of the sun
We know the light will find us
Us and all we've done

Give me an answer
Give me a way out
Give me the faith
To believe in these hard times


+NEEDTOBREATHE+

I love these guys

Another Circle

Lancaster, Pa. Good ole home. It's been a while since I've spent a lot of time here in my hometown. The past 2 years-ish I've been in and out for small periods of time, but they've been small stops on the way to other ventures. It feels good to be here, and I'd like to spend a good amount of time in the land where I grew up. The more I have traveled the more my appreciation for this county has grown, as I began to see the uniqueness that lives in this place. It's got the down home feel, as everyone knows everyone else, and I love that.

Since being here, my heart has felt weird. I love being here and all, seeing family and friends, but I just feel so lost. All the adventures and traveling and trying to keep life exciting have all been amazing, but haven't led me too far. I kinda feel like I've been running in circles for years, working a little, then going on an adventure. Then back to work and then when sick of it, go on to another adventure. I thought with the purchase of a house this would all stop and I would fall into some sort of stability, but nope, here I sit, post adventure, wondering whats next. I'm not sure what this time holds for me but I'm hoping it has something to do with a job that enables adventure and supports life, so that I don't have to quit my job every few months when I feel the tug to go...and then come back and start all over again. But that kind of job is rare, and usually comes when you are the owner and can dictate and manage your own time. I can't say that I have a lot of hope for this.

Basically, I think I have been looking for something, but don't know what it is I'm looking for. Looking for the perfect thing to fall out of the sky and land on my lap, something that encompasses everything that I like to do and get paid for it on top of that. And it's been driving me insane. I think it was Einstein who said that insanity is doing something over and over again, and expecting different results.

I need to try something different.

Another Season

As I drove north, the once clear blue skies started to become spotted with clouds, as if a painter was adding them to the already painted landscape. It felt like I was actually in a painting. The clouds looked perfect, as if someone had spent hours creating them, adding just the right amount of shading. The landscape looked radiant, as the early morning sun fell upon it and lit up the countryside. The cows grazed in their pastures and the light breeze took the leaves from their homes to the ground. The drive from South Carolina to PA was beautiful, and I am so grateful to have been able to catch a little of the fall here on the east coast. I think fall is my favorite season. I said "I think" because spring is up there too. I'm not sure which is better, when the trees become embarrassed and change into all shades of color or when they find themselves and blossom and sprout into all they were created to be. Both are beautiful sights and I love them both. But there's just something about the fall that I like a little bit more. Maybe because it's the thing that ushers us into the holiday season, or maybe it's just the fact that I get to wear a hoodie and sit by the fire with a good cup of coffee. Cause that just feels right.

I feel like my heart is kind of in the same transition. This change of season thing is something my heart has been used to for a while, as I feel like I am constantly changing "seasons" and going on to new and different things. I kinda feel like a tree that as shed all it's leaves and my feet are stuck in the cold hard gound, with the bitter wind cutting to my bare bones. Not able to warm myself, and knowing that a cold hard winter is on its way, with spring nowhere in sight. I'm praying hard that spring comes early this year, as my bones are cold and tired. I'm ready to see some blossoms spring up in this life, that this tree would find it's beauty again, and live in the fullness of what it was created to be. The seasons are inevitable, I know, but maybe the winter will be shorter this year. I hope.

Fall in the Carolina's

John Cena

Cambodia is a broken country. Not long ago in its history lives the gruesome tale of genocide, which has scarred this country forever. In the 70's, many of the nations educated people were killed for the sake of social reform as Pol Pot tried to turn Cambodia communist. The effects of it are seen today as poverty thrives.

We entered Cambodia to the north, through a border town called Poi Pet, and stayed the night at a ministry there. As I was going into the building where we were staying, I was followed by a boy, who looked to be about 12 or 13 years old. He was following behind me and saying something in Khmer. I could tell that he wasn't all there, in his head anyway, and he was dirty and had some slobber around his mouth, that was forming a drip and making its way to his chin. I wasn't sure what to do because here was this street boy in the building with me, and I didn't really know the people in this ministry and I wasn't sure how appropriate it was to have this little boy wandering around with me. My fear was quickly absolved when a girl from the ministry rounded the corner, saw the little boy, and broke out a smile and yelled out his name. "John Cena!" A huge smile spread across his face, as the girl introduced me to the infamous John Cena. Thats not his real name, you see, as John Cena is a famous wrestler, it's just a nickname that he somehow earned, and I'm not sure of the story behind it.

I went on to learn that John Cena was actually 17 years old, and was a regular at the ministry. They told us about how when he was born, his mother gave him alcohol to drink instead of milk, and beat him severely for no reason. The scars on the back of his head told this story, as did his lack of motor skills.

But man could this kid smile. He's up there with the best of them, I'm sure.

It broke my heart to see this kid, who did nothing to deserve what he's been dealt. He spends the day begging, and makes enough to be able to buy food, and that's his life. As he sat with us at dinner that night I fought back the tears as I looked upon him and thought about the things stolen from this beautiful child.

John Cena was a beautiful, yet cruel, reminder of the state of this broken country.

Mucho Agua!

Sorry it's been a while folks. For the past month a solid internet connection has eluded me and the times that I caught up with it, I wasn't very motivated to spend time on it. A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Many places visited and people met. It's been crazy, but so good. I will try my best to capture my adventures in word and the things that I have experienced and seen. The last phase of my trip is going to be spent here in Bangkok and the internet faithfully lives here, so I have no excuse, save my laziness. It's been interesting traveling to all these different places and seeing people on the ground, giving their lives to something beautiful, the redemption and restoration of fellow souls. It has challenged me and inspired me and I know that I will not be the same. I am excited to share these stories!

And so here we are in Bangkok. The rain fell yesterday as if it was a mission from the clouds to destroy earth. I could picture each little rain drop all kamikazied out, with their little bomber suits on and their bomber goggles on, fist forward like superman, heading towards earth with a mission. It assulted us for hours in the morning, and with nowhere to go, their little bodies piled up, until Bangkok was an ocean. A nasty ocean. There was a weird film on top of the water, as if an oil tanker had overturned and spewed its contents, and as I made my way through the water, it left me feeling like one of those poor little seagulls that you see at an oil spill, all covered in oil. Nasty. I'm praying that I don't wind up with some weird type of hookworm or ringworm or some other type of worm, cause my feet have spent plenty of time in that water so far these past few days. A guy told me that this has been the worst flood that he's seen in 9 years.

Anyway, I'm excited for our time here and to process the last few weeks. It should be interesting as we are working with a ministry that reaches out to the men that come to Thailand as sex tourists. Up until now the ministries that we have visited are reaching out to the women at the bars, instead of the ones creating the demand. I'll keep you posted.

Pattaya, Power, and Frustration.

As we roamed the streets of Pattaya, the women called us in, the shop owners handed us their cards, and the neon lights lit our path. It's almost an overwhelming culmination of noise, as the traffic weaves and moves, horns honk, people converse, and music screams at the night. We found our way to the coast and met a guy named Bon. He tried to sell us drugs to which we politely denied and explained to him the effects of drug use, as he we curious why we didn't want the good stuff. We also talked about Jesus, but he said that he has money, and that he is happy. I think he also made a reference about him having buddha, and thats the "same same" as Jesus.

It was kind of frustrating, because it felt like I had to convince him that he was unhappy, which I didn't do. He says he's happy. He says he has everything he needs. But somehow, I have this feeling that if he had the option, he wouldn't be standing on the street corner selling drugs

It's in these moments of feeling powerless that I realize it's all about the power of God. But amidst my fears and doubts, I often struggle with the understanding of bringing this power into these situations. Do I pray and just believe that the Lord did something, even though I didn't see anything actually happen? Or do I pursue that? Pray and Pray until something happens that I can see with my eyes, or rather, pray until he actually feels the Lord encounter him?

Seems I need to figure out some theology. Or maybe just believe? I can't really say that I've ever had a power encounter with the Lord, but I believe that it can happen. Theology shouldn't be formed around what's not happening(thanks Bill Johnson!), and so is it a consistent pursuit of something that brings it?

What do I do to show Bon the power of God?

If your lookin

Lately I've been rollin to the ear candy of John Mark McMillan. If you want some folksy rock n' roll thats creative and all about Jesus, then John Mark will satisfy even the most demanding. John Mark is one of the worship leaders at my church so I have heard not only his music, but also his heart, as he has shared here and there on sunday mornings.

I don't know if I'm weird with music but I always start out not liking a particular group and then absolutely loving them. John Mark was that way...

So I just wanted to throw a plug for John Mark because his cd, "The Medicine", has been inspiring me and I've had a hard time not listening to it. He's been singing to me this whole trip. Check him out...

Both of his cd's, "The Medicine" and "The Song Inside the Sounds of Breaking Down" are solid, with a capital I CAN'T STOP LISTENING!

"There's not enough gravity that can hold me now, and I know that You're gonna meet me here. There's not enough dignity that can keep me away from You"-JMM

Smiles and Perspective

Thailand is called the "Land of Smiles". It's true, there are lots of smiles here, but I often wonder at what is behind a smile. It is the universal language, as anywhere you go a smile is understood, no matter what language you speak. But a smile doesn't always mean what it portrays. Many, many times in my life I have put a smile on my face, when the reality of my heart was hidden behind the mask. It's just easier to smile and hide things.

I walk these streets and look at the people. So many people all around me, many with smiles. It's sometimes hard to believe the web of oppression in this place. The amount of things done in darkness, under the cover of night. And even during the day.

The problem here is much different then I initially thought. I had a certain image in my head when comming to Thailand about what it was like and I thought I knew all there was to know about the sex trades. But after the last few weeks of conversations with people here on the ground, my perspective is changing. And rightly so. Perspective should change when information goes from narrow to broad. Comming here I had the narrow form of perspective. Narrow amount of information and yet thinking I was learned on the subject. I will try to explain some of the perspective I have gotten in the next few days.

I love gaining new perspective. It changes the heart.

Pictures:(

So I've decided to take my pictures off of here and refrain from posting until I can get a watermark in them and copyrighted. Hopefully I'll be able to figure something out here soon so that I can get to posting soon!

What I need to do is buy Photoshop, but at $700 its kind of spendy....sigh

Anyone have a copy just layin around?? ha

Until then I have a lot to write about...

Useless Tears, Useless Fears

How many times do my tears flow, to the sound of something useless? So many. When the tears are spent, and time is taken to ponder why the tears flowed, I sometimes find that they were spent on worthless things. Spent on useless fears that I have allowed to stand in front of my eyes. There are many kinds of tears, of course, to many there is a freedom for, and many that need no apology. But the ones from fear I find flow from a place where I am failing to trust. As if my tears are undermining the faithfulness of the Lord. He is faithful! Why do I fear? I guess part of the journey is learning to trust when I can't see.

I think back on times in my life when I couldn't see, and had fear inside, because my destiny was so unclear. But every time, things always turned out ok, with the exception of the time wasted on fear. Worrying about this and that. It's so useless. Why can't I learn?

For the past week, Billy and I have been in a province of Thailand, spending time with my friend Casey and his family. We have been cruising around in Casey's truck and many times as we were climbing into the back seat where his daughter was located, she would take one look at us and start crying. I just wanted to communicate to her that we weren't there to hurt her but exactly the opposite! We are her friends! But it was impossible to communicate that. No matter how many smiles I threw her way, the tears still flowed. Useless tears.

I wonder if God feels the way I felt. Trying to communicate something, but to no avail. How many times has He tried to communicate to me that there is nothing to fear, but my tears keep flowing. Useless tears for useless fears....

Red Lights and Dignity

It was an interesting night the other night, walking the streets of Bangkok, the neon signs lighting my path, and sultry eyes hoping to meet mine and win my approval. As I walked by one woman, she slid her arm in mine, and proceeded to walk as if she was mine. Others would tap my arm and try to get my attention. I had a hard time looking people in the eye, not because of shame, like some of the fellows there, but because all I could think about was what those women were thinking about. I felt that if I met eyes with one of those women, they would be thinking that I was evaluating them. Looking them up and down to see if they were good enough to take home with me. As if searching for a perfect steak to take home and grill. That's all these women are to many of the men that visit this place. Nothing but a little bit of pleasure. All lined up along the street, or at the bar, waiting for someone to come pick them so that they could lavish their fake love on their fake lovers in return for some cash. I had a hard time walking through those streets, cause I knew that when those people saw me, they would assume the reasons as to why I was there. I mean the color of my skin and the air of those streets, what else would one assume?

We sat at Starbucks for a while and chatted, and all the while I could see a few girls standing along the street, right outside the window. I saw a man come up to one of the girls and lean over and whisper some things in her ear, to which she looked away, contemplating wether or not it was worth the money. He persistently tried to talk her into something, but she refused and he eventually gave up. I was somewhat encouraged that she had strength to say no, for it revealed that dignity was still alive, somewhere in her soul. Oh that she would know the dignity that she really carries!! That she would know the One true lover of her soul!

But how to convey this?

Gotta go...to be continued...

Some Hope

"If you have hope, then it doesn't matter what you DON'T have, but if you don't have hope, then it doesn't matter what you DO have"....from the mouth of a homeless man, circa: sometime in the last ten years, as quoted from Ivan, Ywam-Thailand. Basically to say that he doesn't need to find a job, find a house, get a car...none of those things will "set him straight"....He simply needs hope.

This quote popped out to me in a conversation yesterday, and it resonated in my heart. At times in my life when I had no hope, all the material things in this world meant nothing. My car and all the material things that I owned times ten couldn't really provide me with anything that I really needed. But yet how many times do you see people looking to material things to provide purpose or happiness? How many times have I done this?

Do you have Hope? Because there is a river of Hope that never stops flowing. I think that I'm slowly learning to grasp this. Learning that it is there for me daily. Available to all, all the time. Will I take the opportunity to connect my heart to it? Because it takes a decision on my behalf, to make the time to set my eyes before the One who makes hope possible.

Make some time!

Thailand, Bhutan, Thailand

So I arrived in thailand on the 3oth of July, spent the next few days jet lagged out of my mind, almost in a delirious stage, waiting for friends to arrive in Bangkok. On the 5th of August, 5 of us cruised to Bhutan for an epic time of life. We maximized our time there, being that it was only 5 days and was super expensive, and now we have landed back in good ole bangkok. Now it's just me and Billy. Three of the five of our team has flown back to their respective places and we are going to be here for a few days before heading to northern Thailand. My access to internet has been limited, and so the opportunity to sit down and write has been limited. But no more. Free internet access and lots of time. At least this week. This week Billy and I are figuring out the next leg of our trip and it is during this time that I'm gonna try and process my trip to Bhutan and post a few pics!

I was taken aback by what Bhutan held for me. I wasn't ready for its beauty. Its beauty of land, but mostly its beauty of people. There is a gentleness that rests upon this people, that is not only felt, but is seen, deep in their eyes.

Bhutan has been one of the most isolated nations in the world, and the government takes great measures to preserve their culture and identity. In recent years though, with the internet and cell phone markets seeping into the country, Bhutan has seen the increasing pull of the modern world. Television and internet were banned until 1999. It was weird being in a village and seeing everyone on a cell phone. Until recently, everyone was required to wear the traditional garb, but we encountered many people who weren't wearing it. Especially in the younger generation we saw what looked like kids who were watching too much mtv. The governments measures do work in many respects. The only way into the country is through a travel agency and the government monitors everything that tourists do. Travel agents must submit papers at the end of a trip, telling of all the sights that were seen, the hotels stayed at, and food that was eaten. It was such a unique country! I was amazed at its preservation despite the influx of the internet and cell phone usage. I am excited to process what happened in my heart during my time there, but suffice it to say that I am forever impacted by what I saw and the people I met.

The next couple of days I will be posting pictures from my time there and attempting to write about what I experienced there.

What? The Sky is Blue?

This was the view from my hotel room here in Bangkok. It's like this for as far as the eye can see in all directions. This city is immense, and its thick with concrete and people. The first few days were hazy and overcast and I couldn't tell if it was actually cloudy or if it was just the smog that makes its home above this city. I was going to compare it to LA, but it's incomparable. In LA you can escape the smog simply by leaving the city, but here it is all city. Its inescapable. I suppose there is a reason you see so many people wearing masks over their faces. There have been many times already that have been overwhelmingly uncomfortable because of the lack of clean air. My lungs only being able to find diesel fumes to breathe. Mix that with some sweat drenching heat and your likely to pass out, or at least a be a little dizzy. I've had to stop and catch my breath more than once. I had forgotten that the sky was even blue, until about the third day, when I caught it peeking at me through the clouds. I miss the blue skies of South Carolina already.

It has been a rough transition so far. My stomach feels iffy and I have locked eyes with 4 a.m. more this week than any human should in a lifetime. I am 11 hours ahead of east coast US time, which makes my day east coasts night. Which means when its time to go to bed here, its time to wake up there. I don't remember having so much difficulty transitioning during my other travels but for some reason my body clock doesn't want to change. Maybe i need new batteries...I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning and couldn't sleep! It's day 6 0f this and a good nights sleep is calling my name. I have been finding myself exhausted at about 4 p.m. everyday and have, probably to my error, taken a quick nap to ward off the impending dreary eyes. Maybe I'll skip the nap today and exchange it for sleep tonight. It's easy to say now, but when 4 p.m. rolls around, a nap is quite tempting.

There has been much on my mind so far. Wondering about what this trip holds for me, the places my feet will tread, and the people I will meet. What will come from this heaven only knows. But there is hope in my heart. Hope that somehow, someway the Lord will use me to touch the life of another person. The past month has been a whirlwind of working out details and preparing for this journey, so it has been nice having a few days to settle down and settle in. I am so grateful for this opportunity and so thankful for the way the Lord has made this a reality.

A huge thanks goes out to those who have supported me financially. I have been blown away by your generosity and your eagerness to sow into me has caught me off guard. I am encouraged that you believe in me! Thank you!

This is just the beginning and I hope to stay steady with updates! (although I have yet to define steady in my world haha)...and I leave you with this...

Thailand Travel Tip #1:

When using a public restroom, make sure that you grab all the toilet paper that you need BEFORE going into the stall. Its located outside of the stall(what the heck? for your convenience?). The last thing you want to do is be sitting there and realize that the stall walls are bare of any type of accessories. You better hope that your wearing socks that day.

Bright Alley

It is a sad life to live, having your heart not fully committed to something, but knowing that it should be. Feeling a pull, a tug, towards something good, but yet fully ignoring it and walking the other way. Turning away from that which gives life and embracing that which tears down life.

How often do I find myself in this city? Walking the streets, standing at intersections, at forks in the road, with direction to choose. Why do I so often choose the wide darkened street? It is full of life, but it is not alive. What is it in me that chooses to stand beside the less faithful, the lesser love. That which is not love at all. Should it not be the other way around? Quickly running to the light and fleeing from the throes of darkness? Maybe it's because light exposes. Maybe it's because exposure tag teams with vulnerability and leaves me feeling naked. It's like that nightmare that many of us have had in our lives, where we find ourselves walking the halls of high school, only to realize that we forgot to put on pants or some other important piece of clothing. It's that same exposure that Adam and Eve felt as they hid in the garden. So much fear of being seen as I really am. Why am I so afraid? I'm not sure I have the answer.

But all that to say that I feel like I keep finding myself at the ugly end of a bad decision. A wide, dark street. Ignorance leaping to life in my heart. Apathy and laziness dancing to its tune.

I need Grace today. Grace to forgive, instead of harbouring bitterness. Grace to give, rather then covet. Grace to truly love, instead of having my eyes on me. Grace to step off the wide streets and slip into the bright alleys.

They shot the popsicle man!

Yep, they shot the popsicle man. Right in front of her. I'm not sure what he did to deserve death, but it seemed like a small detail compared to the fact that he had just been shot. There was a lady at my home group sharing this story about when she was little and lived in Rio de Janeiro. She saw the popsicle man get shot right in front of her. Rio de Janeiro is one of the most violent cities on earth and apparently it wasn't uncommon for her to see bodies in the streets. Days passing without anyone touching them.

I guess it caught my attention because I have been thinking a lot lately about life and death. This thing called death is so strange to think about. It comes for us all, some sooner then others, but I can't shake the feeling that one day, this thing called life will come to an end. One day I will be swallowed whole by the grave and all the things that I am stressed about right now will be nothing but a vapor in the wind. This moment is fleeting, this breath that I breathe is fading away, and each minute that passes brings me closer to a destiny that comes to all men. It's not that I'm scared of death, for I know the fate that awaits me, but it's the time from now until heaven that I have been thinking about. Thinking about death always puts the current moment into perspective. For I am a flower that is fading away, scorched by the light of the sun. It causes me to rethink the way that I am spending time. I seem to be going through life as if I have a lot of time to spare. Putting things off until days down the road. Days turning into weeks, weeks turning into months. I mean it is halfway through the year 2009. We are in the future. I remember people asking me what I thought life would look like at age 25. I could never come up with any type of answer because 25 was such a far off figure. And now that 25 has come and gone, I'm left with a memory that was once "the future". It seems with every passing year, the next one seems to move a little faster. It's as if the world is gaining momentum and I'm just hanging on for the ride. People always warned me about this, but I don't think that I ever really listened.

I guess I was vain to think that the world wouldn't pass me by. It was vain to think that time was my friend and that it was looking out for me.

I was sitting at a baseball game the other night, just observing the thousands of people around me, and a thought came to me. I thought about how all of the time that has ever existed on this earth has brought us up to this point. We are standing on the back of history. History carries with it stories of people who lived their lives to the fullest, who didn't let one day slip through their fingers. It also speaks of people who squandered their time here, led astray by apathy and laziness. I long to be the former, not the latter...

Cause you never know when you can go. I mean, one minute you could be selling popsicles, and then the next minute be dead...

Oh, the brevity of life

Fainting Goats and Senior Citizens

I'm not sure if it's a blogoshere faux pas to repost an old blog but I'm going to do it anyway.  I wrote this two years ago and it captures what I was feeling today.  I am in the decision making process and couldn't find other words to describe how I feel....

So my sister wants a fainting goat. When scared, the muscles of these goats get stiff, causing them to stop dead in their tracks and fall over. It's actually quite amusing to watch and they provide for some quality entertainment. They fall over and lay belly up, paralyzed with fear. Sometimes they don't fall over and they just get stiff legs and then try to run away. Some, over time, even learn to lean against things so that they don't fall over.  

The other night I went along with my family to a dinner with my grandparents and a few members of my extended family. It's a yearly thing, I think, and I felt kinda awkward because the majority of them were in their 70's or 80's, with the exception of my family. Whenever I'm around older people like that I always get kinda sad. I mean, not all the time, just sometimes. I always begin to think about how life goes by in the blink of an eye and how I like being young and how I'm not looking forward to the days of fuzzy slippers, dentures and aches and pains. In reality, I guess being old wont be that bad, it's just that much closer to heaven. Maybe I get sad because I'm just scared that life will be over before I know it. That I'll be eighty and full of regrets, with the grave eagerly awaiting my presence.  But as I think about myself at that age, I always wonder what my stories will be. Did I live life to the fullest?  Did I learn to love and be loved?  Did I see justice spring root, or redemption come near?

As I sat there silently listening to these older folks reciting memories from their journeys, I began to think about those goats. About how fear paralyzes them and keeps them from moving. A lot of my life, as I look back on it, has been lived in fear. Fear of risk, of failure, and even of success. And I concluded right then and there that I did not want to live life belly up and feet in the air. Or even run through it stiff legged. I do not want fear to dictate the paths that I take. Nor do I want to let life pass me by and not have any stories to tell.  When I'm eighty and sitting around a table with friends and family, pulling memories from old shelves in my mind, I want to be able tell stories of adventure, hope, and transformation.  Of redemption and justice.  Not stories of a life lived in fear.

 

What will your story be?

Another Day, Another Dollar

Today was  a good day.

For the second day in a row I followed a witch to work.  An apparent witch I should day. Maybe I shouldn't assume, but with "protected by witchcraft" bumper stickers and the like on the back of her vehicle, then maybe its safe to assume. It was weird because of the location of my job.  It's kind of off the beaten path and not really around much, so it was strange that I followed her for 15 minutes to the same exact location.  Anyway, I couldn't help but wonder about how the heck witchcraft could protect her.  Does she know who she serves?

I got a raise today at work.  I've been anticipating it for a while, so it was a relief when I laid eyes on my paycheck.  My feet felt a little lighter for the rest of the day.  It wasn't as much as I had been hoping for, but I am thankful all the same.  Every little bit counts.

There are many songs in my life that stir up feelings of nostalgia and "Don't stop believing" is one of them.  It came on the radio about halfway through the day and my mind was in another world.  A few years ago, I spent the weekend in Philadelphia with a couple of friends.  After dinner and wondering through the art galleries, we found our way into The Plough and The Stars, an Irish pub, located in old city Philadelphia.  It was cold and rainy out so we got a little table near the fireplace and started playing some cards.  People kept looking at us strange as if to remind us we were in a bar.  I guess most people don't play cards in a bar, they drink.  Drown out their worries and live the good life.  As the night went on, this place got packed.  It was hard to walk and people were crowded all around each other, shoulder to shoulder, as many bars are on a friday night.  But we were still there, nestled at our little table, our own little pocket of peace.  The Dj that they had was playing good music, but I'll never forget when he played that Journey song.  The whole bar stopped their conversations and began to sing along.  It was a thunderous sound, with hundreds of people singing their hearts out.  We couldn't help but sing along.  I got shivers because it was such an epic moment of unity. In a bar.  Every time I hear that song, I am in that bar, singin along.

This evening I went to dinner with some dear friends of mine.  We tasted of some find mexican food and conversed about money and dreams.  We talked about how money doesn't make us happy and how we don't want to spend our lives living for money,  so that we can die rich.  It's not worth it.  Life is too short, my friends.  Too short to spend it on worthless things that are fading away.

Yep, today was a good day.

 

Sometimes angels sing

I work with a guy named Joey. Born and raised in Mt. Vernon, New York. I think I called him George for the first month that I worked with him. Not sure if it was my lack of hearing or his lack of pronunciation, but the name George entered my head for some reason on that first day. I felt so lame when I asked the manager of the shop if I should check with George about something and he looked at me funny and asked “who’s George?” Hey, its hard keeping track of names in a new environment right? Anyway, Joey works in the paint room, spending the day painting and finishing cabinets, putting all the finishing touches on our work. He has his own little room in the back corner of the shop where he spends time with paint fumes and a radio blaring the best of southern gospel. He has been on a southern gospel trip lately, so we have had the privilege of hanging with the Gaithers, Gold City, Imperials, and Cathedrals. Those aren’t new names to me, as my father loves southern gospel music, and I grew up hearing those tunes flood the house daily. The first day that Joey played that station, my mind went scrambling back to those days, when my father would play his southern gospel music and walk around the house, waiving his arm like a chorus conductor and singing along. Occasionally throughout the day we hear Joey singing along with the radio, going for the high notes and all. All of us at the shop stop for a second, look at each other, and chuckle under our breath. A round of smiles all around.

I park beside Joey almost everyday, and when I get out of my car, my eyes always fall on the little white new testament that sits on his front seat. He goes out there and reads during his breaks and for lunch. And everyday, like clockwork, there is Joey, singing his songs. I’ve been meaning to ask Joey where he gets his joy, but I think I already know the answer.


I’m not exactly sure what the role of angels are in this world, but if I’m right, sometimes angels sing.

Thanks for singing Joey. The world is now brighter.

I remember

Today, memories of all sorts were flooding my mind while I was busy at work.  Random ones, many from elementary school.  I like memories.  A point in time that is infused in my heart.  Though many of my memories aren't good, I have many that are, and they total up to who I am today.  

I remember...

....being in Miss Hatton's sixth grade class.  She was a nice teacher, prone to smiles and good cheer, really only getting mad once in a while at the class clown.  It was during the days of Nancy Reagan's drug education program called "DARE".  Remember that?  If you don't, just go to any thrift store and look through the t-shirt section and you are bound to find a t-shirt adorning her mantra.  Anyways, on this day, we all received a red DARE ribbon to put on our backpacks.  They were poorly made and had little red frays at each end of the ribbon. If you pulled just a little bit, you could pretty much just destroy the ribbon, leaving just a pile of red thread.  Well, a few of the guys in class figured this out and proceeded to destroy their ribbons.  When Miss Hatton saw those poor little ribbons all shredded up, she was infuriated!  Now I had pulled a few threads out of my ribbon, but so little that my ribbon still looked intact, but enough to have a decent pile of thread.  Miss Hatton screamed at the two culprits and then posed the question, "Is there anyone else involved?"  Well I was scared to death, so I sure as heck was not going to raise my hand.  But before I could even think, Kurt Miller, who was sitting next to me, reached slowly into my desk, pulled out my clump of thread, and raised it towards the sky, for all the class to see.  Miss Hatton looked at me as if I had just dropped the f bomb out of my little elementary mouth and with all the fury she could muster, screamed at me to get out in the hall.  I can't remember what happened after that, but I will never forget the way I felt when she looked at me with her big brown eyes and screamed at me.  Thanks Kurt.

....going through a phase that same year of loving everything baseball.  Baseball this and baseball that.  I had a whole crew of friends who all shared my passion, and it would consume our conversations.  One day I brought in my mint condition Mike Schmidt baseball card.  The pride of the Phillies and my collection.  My baseball loving "friend" asked me to see the card.  I gently handed it to him.  He looked at it for a while and then, as if I wasn't watching, slowly put the card under his desk and proceeded to bend it completely in half.  He then handed it back to me as if nothing had happened.  Now if you know anything about baseball cards, you know that a baseball card with a crease in it is rendered worthless.  I was mad, but I didn't do anything about it.  This is the earliest memory that I have of me not standing up for myself.  I asked him why he did it and he insisted that he didn't.  And I left it at that. But man, I was sad....

I'm still not sure why these memories were living in my mind today.  They are random and from another time in life that has been long past.  Maybe it's that still small voice telling me to stand up for myself, or maybe it's saying "your sins will find you out".  I'll have to think about that for a while.  It's hard work processing memories, or scars, or joys.  Whatever you want to call them, I  am thankful that the lines on the road are still comming.

The word of the day is a conjugation of remember and memories.  Rememberies.  Go make some.

World Spin On!

So this was my new years resolution, but as you can see time has kind of gotten away from me, and the year is not so new anymore.  Days seem to come and go, leaving me to wonder at them, all the while I'm filling them with work or some other use of time.  But I'm tired of wasting days away. Of putting things off until tomorrow, when they could be done today.  If there was a crown for this I think it would be on my head.  These words find you after a long battle with apathy and an oppression on my heart that has been hard to find freedom from.  It seems the things that I love to do  are often accompanied by the hovering of a cloud, as if to keep me from doing them.  To make me run instead of embrace these things that make me come alive.  But as they say, nothing good ever comes easily.

So tonight I'm doing what can be done today, and this is it. Words meet page.   My outlet to the world.  After much pondering and many spins of the world, I've finally resolved myself to start taking time each day to do something I really like to do.  Writing is an outlet for me that I don't often use.  It helps me to process the world and my place in it.    I'm not too sure what I'm going to write about, but if I'm correct, each day is a story of its own.  And no matter what unfolds or where this leads, I'll try my best to capture my thoughts, weaknesses, understandings, and misunderstandings, all with the intent of somehow pulling us all closer to the answers to the questions that live in our minds. 

 And as the world spins on, day after day, as words and story find their way here, it is my prayer that Truth would be revealed.  That it would find its way into our being and fill the cracks of these broken vessels.  And thus this journey begins.  Not knowing where to step, but trusting that light will break in and reveal the path.  And your invited, because I can't do this on my own!

  Give light to my eyes!