Saturday, July 30, 2005
More paintball escapades
You won't believe it. Yesterday I completed level 6 of Mission Paintball. Man, did I celebrate. Level 6 has been daunting me, and I've been mildly frustrated. Had to take a long break. But, finally I conquered! Then I found out that I forgot to save the level, and had to begin over again. Yikes! 3 more tries and I conquered again. Oh, it was a good day for paintball victory. I moved on to level 7, which I was sure to fail. After a few attempts I was successful. Wow! But I forgot to save that level too, so had to do it again. So, in one day I completed 2 difficult levels two times each. Man, I was tired after that. Especially because in level 8 I had to try to shoot 200 guys. I didn't crack that one.
Right now you may be thinking "Some people have too much time on their hands." Hey, some people watch TV, I play paintball. The game has really helped me. When at dad's I shot a real paintball gun for the first time. I let loose on an old abandoned car, pelleted the tailights, and knocked them right out of their sockets. They were just dangling by wires. Woohoo!!!!! Who knew I had a gift for weapons of pain and destruction?
Right now you may be thinking "Some people have too much time on their hands." Hey, some people watch TV, I play paintball. The game has really helped me. When at dad's I shot a real paintball gun for the first time. I let loose on an old abandoned car, pelleted the tailights, and knocked them right out of their sockets. They were just dangling by wires. Woohoo!!!!! Who knew I had a gift for weapons of pain and destruction?
Friday, July 29, 2005
No Comment
More about blogging, but first something about my nature.
I have discovered, surprisingly, that I'm slightly competitive. I say surprisingly, because I didn't play sports or many games when growing up. I didn't like group icebreakers, and at gatherings was the one who found more joy in watching the games than playing the games. It didn't take much for me to feel inadequate, dumb, awkward. Still doesn't take much. Moreover, I have discovered that I like winning at something, though not winning to the point that someone else feels bad. 50% would be good. But the 50% that I'm on top, inside I'm bubbling. If I'm with someone whose feelings won't be hurt, I laugh excitedly...mischievously. It's borderline macabre with the right people, who won't take offense but instead will laugh at it. That's probably something to add to the list of things to work on.
When my comments were enabled, I would look at them in anticipation of something thought-provoking to be added to them. I enjoyed getting to know people's thoughts, and the "community" it seemed to invoke when all was going well. Especially if the comments were in my favour. But the competitive nature, the one that doesn't want to be the kid laughed at for not knowing how to play the game, would notice if the amount of comments on my site were not as much as the comments on someone else's. I'm just being honest here, so don't think I'm terrible for it. See, I just did it again - that sensitivity thing. Sometimes I would wonder how to write better, so that the people who were commenting elsewhere were commenting on mine too. It was like a popularity contest. Come on, I can't be the only one out there. You know the feeling of validation you get from seeing that there are more comments on the blog than there were before. Weren't we all following Jennifer's blog when it broke 100 comments? Do you remember the joke about it surpassing Scott's? Yep, it was funny. Though we were joking, there is that thrill. The same with the amount of visitors at one site compared to another, if site meter is enabled. It's like a popularity contest. My readership crashed tremendously this winter, and for many weeks I considered quitting all together. Was it worth the time to write? If no one gets anything from the blog, a journal is easier to keep. No pressure to create something a few times per week. No worries about what I'm writing. In fact, for a while I did keep a journal as well as the blog, for those things that couldn't be aired publicly. Back to the topic. How egotistical am I to even think anyone gets something from this blog? I had to really ask myself why I wanted to write, and I chose a magic number of readers that would mean folding the site. Not because I wanted to be "somebody", but because it would indicate my time had come and gone for this experience. The numbers came very close to the shutting down target (I believe off by one person). In that time though, a stranger emailed me. He had stumbled across the blog, and was struggling with some of the things I blogged about. He thanked me. That made it worth continuing for the time.
I hide behind my blogs sometimes. You do too. Not just by saying via this public forum the things that should be said to the individuals alone, but by covering up. Please, don't take this as promotion of spilling your guts. Sometimes guts are best left inside until things are sorted out. In fact, I've commended friends whom I know are purposefully being careful on their blogs, for having integrity. Sometimes there is nothing original on my site because I'm going through too much angst and don't want to seem angry, petty, bitter. I've said it before and you may be sick of it, but I'm trying to figure out how to live Christ. Better yet, how to let Christ do it for me. And conversely, sometimes topics are difficult to think of because there is an absence of angst to write about.
Wow, I've yakked alot. Maybe that's okay, since it's been months with these thoughts in my mind. The mind can be a sparse, lonely place. Oh...maybe I should have hung onto these thoughts a little while longer to avoid the now hollow sound in there. A word is ringing around...let me try to catch it. There it is. "Peach." Time to go eat one. See how simple it can sometimes be?
I have discovered, surprisingly, that I'm slightly competitive. I say surprisingly, because I didn't play sports or many games when growing up. I didn't like group icebreakers, and at gatherings was the one who found more joy in watching the games than playing the games. It didn't take much for me to feel inadequate, dumb, awkward. Still doesn't take much. Moreover, I have discovered that I like winning at something, though not winning to the point that someone else feels bad. 50% would be good. But the 50% that I'm on top, inside I'm bubbling. If I'm with someone whose feelings won't be hurt, I laugh excitedly...mischievously. It's borderline macabre with the right people, who won't take offense but instead will laugh at it. That's probably something to add to the list of things to work on.
When my comments were enabled, I would look at them in anticipation of something thought-provoking to be added to them. I enjoyed getting to know people's thoughts, and the "community" it seemed to invoke when all was going well. Especially if the comments were in my favour. But the competitive nature, the one that doesn't want to be the kid laughed at for not knowing how to play the game, would notice if the amount of comments on my site were not as much as the comments on someone else's. I'm just being honest here, so don't think I'm terrible for it. See, I just did it again - that sensitivity thing. Sometimes I would wonder how to write better, so that the people who were commenting elsewhere were commenting on mine too. It was like a popularity contest. Come on, I can't be the only one out there. You know the feeling of validation you get from seeing that there are more comments on the blog than there were before. Weren't we all following Jennifer's blog when it broke 100 comments? Do you remember the joke about it surpassing Scott's? Yep, it was funny. Though we were joking, there is that thrill. The same with the amount of visitors at one site compared to another, if site meter is enabled. It's like a popularity contest. My readership crashed tremendously this winter, and for many weeks I considered quitting all together. Was it worth the time to write? If no one gets anything from the blog, a journal is easier to keep. No pressure to create something a few times per week. No worries about what I'm writing. In fact, for a while I did keep a journal as well as the blog, for those things that couldn't be aired publicly. Back to the topic. How egotistical am I to even think anyone gets something from this blog? I had to really ask myself why I wanted to write, and I chose a magic number of readers that would mean folding the site. Not because I wanted to be "somebody", but because it would indicate my time had come and gone for this experience. The numbers came very close to the shutting down target (I believe off by one person). In that time though, a stranger emailed me. He had stumbled across the blog, and was struggling with some of the things I blogged about. He thanked me. That made it worth continuing for the time.
I hide behind my blogs sometimes. You do too. Not just by saying via this public forum the things that should be said to the individuals alone, but by covering up. Please, don't take this as promotion of spilling your guts. Sometimes guts are best left inside until things are sorted out. In fact, I've commended friends whom I know are purposefully being careful on their blogs, for having integrity. Sometimes there is nothing original on my site because I'm going through too much angst and don't want to seem angry, petty, bitter. I've said it before and you may be sick of it, but I'm trying to figure out how to live Christ. Better yet, how to let Christ do it for me. And conversely, sometimes topics are difficult to think of because there is an absence of angst to write about.
Wow, I've yakked alot. Maybe that's okay, since it's been months with these thoughts in my mind. The mind can be a sparse, lonely place. Oh...maybe I should have hung onto these thoughts a little while longer to avoid the now hollow sound in there. A word is ringing around...let me try to catch it. There it is. "Peach." Time to go eat one. See how simple it can sometimes be?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Angry
I'm surprised today by my feelings, and have been questioning why I'm angry. Maybe it's because when returning back home from my relaxing family vacation I drove by someone whom I had enjoyed as an acquaintance, and have just found out has been critical behind my back...and perhaps even on my blog, though that is not positively identified and I don't care to know for sure. So, here I am, thinking things that are not new in my mind, but haven't been blogged about. This blog content has been contemplated and self-censored over and over. Maybe it will be self-censored again. Some things are best not published, and I don't know if this is one of them. You will hate this post, and so will I.
A while ago someone asked me if I consider the blogs to be a source of community. A year ago I may have said yes. Now I say no. To me, they are not community in the purest, socialistic sense of the word. If when you define community you would say mean-spirited, false, ego-centric, misleading, then community is what it is. Those are the bad parts of living and relating with people.
We publish stuff that rattles on and on about our own selves, our boasts, our insecurities, our opinions. It's about us. We publish things that are directed at others, that should be addressed privately, not publicly. We purge and publish, rather than purging and destroying. We receive validation for the purging, by well-meaning supporters. A step back and deep thought is not always used in our comments, sometimes resulting in confusion, embarrassment, or the occasional self-censoring deletion.
I liken this to a neighbourhood. Imagine posting a billboard on your front lawn for all to see. No, it's not a cul-de-sac. Anyone can read about your grievance or issues, and in fact the neighbourhood traffic increases because of curiosity. You welcome people to comment on the billboard, and provide the paint for them to do so. You check it regularly because inside you nervously desire affirmation for that part of you that is hung out on the billboard. Comments grow, and more interest ensues. Word gets around. Those whose lives are directly affected by what is posted may come in the dark of night, not wanting persecution. They hope they are not seen visiting your lawn, but visit it they do. It hurts, but there is a morbid curiosity to see how bad things can get. They cry as they walk away, but before they get in the car they steal one last glance, wondering why they do.
A few people have asked me when I will enable comments again. I don't know. Part of me wants to in order to get feedback on certain issues, but the overriding part of me is too afraid. I can get 20 positive comments, but the 2 mean-spirited ones override the rest and eat at me. I became exhausted of going to the computer every hour to see if the comments were devastating or not. You know, you don't have to agree with what I write, but be nice. And if you have an issue with my personal life, the blog comments (or your own blog post) are not the place to air it. That lacks bravado and integrity. Yes, I'm not pulling any punches.
I realize there are many blogs and many reasons for reading them. I've come across a variety of posts by strangers, and a few times the authors have made comments to the effect "It's my post, and if you don't like it don't read it". This has usually followed something negative or mean-spirited, for which criticism was received. There is no excuse for being mean-spirited. I know that's only my opinion, but I'm going to state it like it's fact. This is especially in the Christian community. Are we portraying Christ or are we not?
So, that would be my response about blog and community. It won't always be this way, and I'm taking a biased approach. Let me tell you what is community. Relationships that have developed from blog contacts, via email contact or coffee invitations. I have received resuscitation from these relationships, and hope that some have also felt the same. So, it's not all bad. But for the sake of whining, for today I've given myself permission to truly speak my mind.
A while ago someone asked me if I consider the blogs to be a source of community. A year ago I may have said yes. Now I say no. To me, they are not community in the purest, socialistic sense of the word. If when you define community you would say mean-spirited, false, ego-centric, misleading, then community is what it is. Those are the bad parts of living and relating with people.
We publish stuff that rattles on and on about our own selves, our boasts, our insecurities, our opinions. It's about us. We publish things that are directed at others, that should be addressed privately, not publicly. We purge and publish, rather than purging and destroying. We receive validation for the purging, by well-meaning supporters. A step back and deep thought is not always used in our comments, sometimes resulting in confusion, embarrassment, or the occasional self-censoring deletion.
I liken this to a neighbourhood. Imagine posting a billboard on your front lawn for all to see. No, it's not a cul-de-sac. Anyone can read about your grievance or issues, and in fact the neighbourhood traffic increases because of curiosity. You welcome people to comment on the billboard, and provide the paint for them to do so. You check it regularly because inside you nervously desire affirmation for that part of you that is hung out on the billboard. Comments grow, and more interest ensues. Word gets around. Those whose lives are directly affected by what is posted may come in the dark of night, not wanting persecution. They hope they are not seen visiting your lawn, but visit it they do. It hurts, but there is a morbid curiosity to see how bad things can get. They cry as they walk away, but before they get in the car they steal one last glance, wondering why they do.
A few people have asked me when I will enable comments again. I don't know. Part of me wants to in order to get feedback on certain issues, but the overriding part of me is too afraid. I can get 20 positive comments, but the 2 mean-spirited ones override the rest and eat at me. I became exhausted of going to the computer every hour to see if the comments were devastating or not. You know, you don't have to agree with what I write, but be nice. And if you have an issue with my personal life, the blog comments (or your own blog post) are not the place to air it. That lacks bravado and integrity. Yes, I'm not pulling any punches.
I realize there are many blogs and many reasons for reading them. I've come across a variety of posts by strangers, and a few times the authors have made comments to the effect "It's my post, and if you don't like it don't read it". This has usually followed something negative or mean-spirited, for which criticism was received. There is no excuse for being mean-spirited. I know that's only my opinion, but I'm going to state it like it's fact. This is especially in the Christian community. Are we portraying Christ or are we not?
So, that would be my response about blog and community. It won't always be this way, and I'm taking a biased approach. Let me tell you what is community. Relationships that have developed from blog contacts, via email contact or coffee invitations. I have received resuscitation from these relationships, and hope that some have also felt the same. So, it's not all bad. But for the sake of whining, for today I've given myself permission to truly speak my mind.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Fam
You know, I never realized my family was redneck (especially my sister Carol and her kids). Take a look at these pics that the NRA are using as family ads:
We just needed a bit of chew. Oh yeah, dad stayed in the trailer. Yes, he was wearing a flannel shirt and suspenders.
We just needed a bit of chew. Oh yeah, dad stayed in the trailer. Yes, he was wearing a flannel shirt and suspenders.
Friday, July 22, 2005
In or Out?
As I was exercising in the living room, I noticed the locked deadbolt on the door in front of me. Not only was the deadbolt locked, but the handle as well. All of a sudden I didn't feel very safe.
Over the years I have been "security" conscious, locking windows, doors, car doors, installing/enabling a monitored security system. Even when home. I've heard of home invasions gone bad on premises that weren't locked. Well, I've heard of one, but that one has been enough to make me think it can happen to me. But as I looked at the locked living room door the other day I began to feel locked in.
The two home invasions on my places were done on locked premises. On one the patio door was jimmied open with tin snips, and on the other the back door (locked) was kicked in. Yet I still thought that allowing my fear to take over and locking me up with more fervour was the best prevention.
I'm not criticizing security alarms. They are good. I'm not advocating leaving the doors and windows unlocked all the time, without regard for the neighborhood or time of night. Yet I wonder what I'm doing. Because more and more it's starting to feel like I'm locking myself in, rather than locking out the bad. I'm encouraging my world to become small and closed. I'm afraid to live freely lest I be hurt.
It reminds me of something less tangible that I, at times have attempted to shut harmful experiences out of. I don't need to explain it to you. Those for whom this is meant will understand.
I have at times shut people out of my personal "abode" for fear of violation. Lack of trust has caused me to lock up during certain times. All it takes is one story of something gone bad, or more accurately one majorly bad experience and I'm politely closed for business.
Now I realize that self-preservation when in the midst of turmoil is not a bad thing. What I ask myself is how long do I need to stay closed? And how closed should I be? What are the determining factors in the answer? Am I shutting something out, or am I shutting myself in, and cowering unnecessarily?
Let me turn this. What about love? What about hope? Are you locking it out because of your past experience or are you locking yourself in to your misery? When will it be time to do something about it? You don't need to open everything up. Just a bit at a time.
Over the years I have been "security" conscious, locking windows, doors, car doors, installing/enabling a monitored security system. Even when home. I've heard of home invasions gone bad on premises that weren't locked. Well, I've heard of one, but that one has been enough to make me think it can happen to me. But as I looked at the locked living room door the other day I began to feel locked in.
The two home invasions on my places were done on locked premises. On one the patio door was jimmied open with tin snips, and on the other the back door (locked) was kicked in. Yet I still thought that allowing my fear to take over and locking me up with more fervour was the best prevention.
I'm not criticizing security alarms. They are good. I'm not advocating leaving the doors and windows unlocked all the time, without regard for the neighborhood or time of night. Yet I wonder what I'm doing. Because more and more it's starting to feel like I'm locking myself in, rather than locking out the bad. I'm encouraging my world to become small and closed. I'm afraid to live freely lest I be hurt.
It reminds me of something less tangible that I, at times have attempted to shut harmful experiences out of. I don't need to explain it to you. Those for whom this is meant will understand.
I have at times shut people out of my personal "abode" for fear of violation. Lack of trust has caused me to lock up during certain times. All it takes is one story of something gone bad, or more accurately one majorly bad experience and I'm politely closed for business.
Now I realize that self-preservation when in the midst of turmoil is not a bad thing. What I ask myself is how long do I need to stay closed? And how closed should I be? What are the determining factors in the answer? Am I shutting something out, or am I shutting myself in, and cowering unnecessarily?
Let me turn this. What about love? What about hope? Are you locking it out because of your past experience or are you locking yourself in to your misery? When will it be time to do something about it? You don't need to open everything up. Just a bit at a time.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Psalm 34
I'm finding the blog words slow in coming this last few weeks. Maybe because of summer and the distractions that the season brings. It's okay. I'm still here, just part-time it seems. Here's an excerpt of Psalm 34, which Greg read at the Sunday baptism.
I bless GOD every chance I get;
my lungs expand with his praise.
I live and breathe GOD;
if things aren't going well, hear this and be happy:
Join me in spreading the news;
together let's get the word out.
GOD met me more than halfway,
he freed me from my anxious fears.
Look at him; give him your warmest smile.
Never hide your feelings from him.
When I was desperate, I called out,
and GOD got me out of a tight spot.
GOD's angel sets up a circle
of protection around us while we pray.
Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see--how good GOD is.
Blessed are you who run to him.
……….
If your heart is broken, you'll find GOD right there;
if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath.
More thoughts coming tomorrow.
I bless GOD every chance I get;
my lungs expand with his praise.
I live and breathe GOD;
if things aren't going well, hear this and be happy:
Join me in spreading the news;
together let's get the word out.
GOD met me more than halfway,
he freed me from my anxious fears.
Look at him; give him your warmest smile.
Never hide your feelings from him.
When I was desperate, I called out,
and GOD got me out of a tight spot.
GOD's angel sets up a circle
of protection around us while we pray.
Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see--how good GOD is.
Blessed are you who run to him.
……….
If your heart is broken, you'll find GOD right there;
if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath.
More thoughts coming tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The Silver Lining
For a few years now I've been trying to teach Matthew that there is a positive side to almost anything. In earlier years, the lessons encompass doing a different event than he might have ideally wanted, rather than dealing with the serious issues of life as an adult knows it. Initially Matthew can balk at an idea (like this week's VBS), but then realize he really likes it. It has been my hope that this "silver lining" concept will follow him through the crap that happens as he matures into adulthood.
Sometimes the approach backfires on me. Like when removing privileges. Some of the "consequence" thunder wanes when I remove a privilege or an outing, and he ends up having just as much fun at home or doing something else. How is one to impact discipline when "find something good in everything" has been my motto?
I think I'm going to change the way I raise Matthew. Teach him that unless he gets what he wants all the time, life sucks. Then he won't have as much fun when consequences are put in place. Because really, who can deal with an optimist?
Sometimes the approach backfires on me. Like when removing privileges. Some of the "consequence" thunder wanes when I remove a privilege or an outing, and he ends up having just as much fun at home or doing something else. How is one to impact discipline when "find something good in everything" has been my motto?
I think I'm going to change the way I raise Matthew. Teach him that unless he gets what he wants all the time, life sucks. Then he won't have as much fun when consequences are put in place. Because really, who can deal with an optimist?
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Baptism
So, brother James got baptised tonight. How could I stay away?
A while back I asked James some questions about his missions trip to Costa Rica. They were:
What were the 2 most significant things you came back having learned as life changing things? What piece of the people have you taken away from there in your heart, and what did you learn about yourself?
Instead of me reiterating what he said, I'll cut and paste his answers.
Aber and I helped silvio, the caretaker, lay new cement in front of the church. I got along with silvio last time too. I think he likes me. When aber broke a folding chair silvio and I thought about ideas to fix it. not by talking, but by hand gestures and actions. we thought of the same solution. I like silvio, he is a cool guy.
Last year there was this girl who always watched everyone. This year I decided I needed to make the girl feel more comfortable. it was great that her sister was there too. her sister would run over and play pass with me using a soccer ball. I would then kick it accross the fence and the other girl would kick it back. but she wouldn't come over just yet. I kept doing this then asked again and she jumped accross to play too. after that she came over quite often with her little sister. I would be sitting down and then have these two come and sit beside me. they loved to play with my camera, i didn't care they weren't going to break it. Then there was their little brother. this boy was full of energy. his name was samuel. samuel would play pass too. then i knelt down for a second. a few moments later I had samuel fastened to my neck on my back. umm he wouldn't let go. so we played soccer with samuel on my back. all i could hear was laughing. I turned myself upside down to shake the sucker off but he hung on and screamed Noo! Noo! and laughed. so I kept making sudden moves to make his ride a little more exciting. it was kinda funny. I looked over later and saw his mom signal to me. so i went over and she took him off my back over the barb fence. I guess it was time for him to go home.
I also met the new Pastor. his name is Jose. 37 years old. he is a cool guy. we couldn't talk to each other too well, just some, but he would do his best to get his thoughts accross to me. we were able to communicate just fine. I helped him with the sunday school project. The rest of the team went to watch a soccer game and I decided to join pastor jose. susan asked if I would understand what they are saying. I said nope and off I went to help. it was kind of funny. I would watch and they would be talking to me in spanish. but of course I have no idea what they are saying. I just laughed and they laughed. i was still able to help anyway.
I spoke twice when at churches. once in nazerine church and once in amparo church. both times I wasn't really that nervous, but of course I still was. i was able to make people laugh. i like doing that, even though it may not seem that way.
I can do things even if i don't think i can. like communicate with people who don't speak english. it is possible, just takes work. and I can do it. I tell myself too much that I can't do it, so I don't.
I seemed to make the best relationships with the kids that were quieter. maybe because everyone else went for the lively ones, i tried to go for the ones that didn't say anything. like the girl accross the fence. I wanted to make her feel special and important too. I wanted to make their day. and I think I achieved that in my own little way.
I still need to bring my work life into my every day life. i act way different at work than I do in public/church/etc. I am more free at work and don't think about what people may think or say. i guess i feel more comfortable because I know them very well.
I don't know what you read into his answers, but to me they show a man of maturity. He sees the needs of others, perhaps even those who may be overlooked. He looks for those who may feel like I think he has in his life. He accepts fully. I know I've experienced that with him. I see in him a real man of God, growing month by month.
I love you, brother.
A while back I asked James some questions about his missions trip to Costa Rica. They were:
What were the 2 most significant things you came back having learned as life changing things? What piece of the people have you taken away from there in your heart, and what did you learn about yourself?
Instead of me reiterating what he said, I'll cut and paste his answers.
Aber and I helped silvio, the caretaker, lay new cement in front of the church. I got along with silvio last time too. I think he likes me. When aber broke a folding chair silvio and I thought about ideas to fix it. not by talking, but by hand gestures and actions. we thought of the same solution. I like silvio, he is a cool guy.
Last year there was this girl who always watched everyone. This year I decided I needed to make the girl feel more comfortable. it was great that her sister was there too. her sister would run over and play pass with me using a soccer ball. I would then kick it accross the fence and the other girl would kick it back. but she wouldn't come over just yet. I kept doing this then asked again and she jumped accross to play too. after that she came over quite often with her little sister. I would be sitting down and then have these two come and sit beside me. they loved to play with my camera, i didn't care they weren't going to break it. Then there was their little brother. this boy was full of energy. his name was samuel. samuel would play pass too. then i knelt down for a second. a few moments later I had samuel fastened to my neck on my back. umm he wouldn't let go. so we played soccer with samuel on my back. all i could hear was laughing. I turned myself upside down to shake the sucker off but he hung on and screamed Noo! Noo! and laughed. so I kept making sudden moves to make his ride a little more exciting. it was kinda funny. I looked over later and saw his mom signal to me. so i went over and she took him off my back over the barb fence. I guess it was time for him to go home.
I also met the new Pastor. his name is Jose. 37 years old. he is a cool guy. we couldn't talk to each other too well, just some, but he would do his best to get his thoughts accross to me. we were able to communicate just fine. I helped him with the sunday school project. The rest of the team went to watch a soccer game and I decided to join pastor jose. susan asked if I would understand what they are saying. I said nope and off I went to help. it was kind of funny. I would watch and they would be talking to me in spanish. but of course I have no idea what they are saying. I just laughed and they laughed. i was still able to help anyway.
I spoke twice when at churches. once in nazerine church and once in amparo church. both times I wasn't really that nervous, but of course I still was. i was able to make people laugh. i like doing that, even though it may not seem that way.
I can do things even if i don't think i can. like communicate with people who don't speak english. it is possible, just takes work. and I can do it. I tell myself too much that I can't do it, so I don't.
I seemed to make the best relationships with the kids that were quieter. maybe because everyone else went for the lively ones, i tried to go for the ones that didn't say anything. like the girl accross the fence. I wanted to make her feel special and important too. I wanted to make their day. and I think I achieved that in my own little way.
I still need to bring my work life into my every day life. i act way different at work than I do in public/church/etc. I am more free at work and don't think about what people may think or say. i guess i feel more comfortable because I know them very well.
I don't know what you read into his answers, but to me they show a man of maturity. He sees the needs of others, perhaps even those who may be overlooked. He looks for those who may feel like I think he has in his life. He accepts fully. I know I've experienced that with him. I see in him a real man of God, growing month by month.
I love you, brother.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
The Unknown
Scott wrote about renovating. One thing I have found on the topic is that when you go into the project there is an expectation of time and result. But, when I begin to do the work both expectations take a side step. As I tear out that wall I tremble with positive and negative expectation. It could reveal perfection and everything is on track, or it could reveal a major construction job waiting for me. I've come to realize that both are good. The one bears no surprise, and the original design is intact. The latter bears many surprises and the design may have to be rethought. The latter creates the greatest opportunity to make dreaded mistakes, since I'm an amateur and don't know how to do many things. But it also provides the opportunity for the most growth through learning via trial and error. Takes way longer, but leaves me with more skills for the next time. The confidence grows to tackle more difficult projects, and the creativity heightens. Removing a wall no longer scares as much.
Dare to create. Dare to let some things be torn down, not knowing what may happen next...whether you will have a mess to deal with or a rare thing of beauty. Dare to make mistakes and forgive yourself. Ouch. That one speaks to me. Did I have to write that? Maybe even dare to dream.
Anyone want to join me with a crowbar?
Dare to create. Dare to let some things be torn down, not knowing what may happen next...whether you will have a mess to deal with or a rare thing of beauty. Dare to make mistakes and forgive yourself. Ouch. That one speaks to me. Did I have to write that? Maybe even dare to dream.
Anyone want to join me with a crowbar?
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
I refuse to be a grown up
Went to Castle Fun Park today, with another mom and her girl. Set aside $10 in tokens for Matthew to play games, and so did the other mom for her child. But of course, the kids can't hang onto them while they play. Th dinosaur hunting game looked appealing, but Matthew didn't want to play it. How could he pass it up? Maryann and I sat down to play together, and we had all the tokens with us. You know what happened next. Soon we were digging in our pockets, playing the tokens on top of the game table, so they were easily accessible at the "continue" portion of the game. A couple rounds later I said "We better quit, or this game will suck all the tokens out of us." We did, but then the motorcycle racing looked appealing. Then Pac Man, a blast from the past. Matthew came running up to me for more tokens and I said "I'm busy -- dig in my pocket." Away he ran with a handful.
Man, I like this second childhood!
Man, I like this second childhood!
Monday, July 11, 2005
Tech cartoons
Courtesy of Dilbert: When Did Ignorance Become a Point of View?
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Church
The search for a church is difficult. I've been to a few this last number of months, and sometimes instead opted to head to nature with Bible in hand. Today I tried out a church that I haven't been to for several years. It was a trying time. The premises were not where I thought they were. I considered leaving when I saw where they were holding the service. It held memories for me that meant purging some things. Working through the past. As I was thinking about that, the music team sang a song which reminded me of this winter. A signature song that brought up some more stuff. Ironic...as I was thinking about sticking around in the building, I thought "Next it's probably going to push me further by the team doing "x" song. Well, they did right after the thought had come. Now I'm smiling as I think of it. The irony of God. I stayed a while longer, dropped my money in the offering bag, and went for a walk. Lately my closest God moments are in the woods or by water. It brings reflection.
I walked through the meadow leading to the forest. This scripture/song kept running through my mind:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases
His mercies they never come to an end
They are new every morning, new every morning
Great is your faithfulness oh Lord
Great is your faithfulness.
As I passed people we smiled and greeted each other. Community. I patted some eager dogs. As soon as I hit the woods I ventured on a solitary path I had never been on. This was a good time for an adventure. As I dodged edges of stray blackberry bushes and looked at the trees I sang aloud part of this song that I've quoted before:
Make a joyful noise to the Lord all the earth (x4)
The flowers of the field cry to be heard
The trees of the forest are singing
And all of the mountains with one voice
Are joining the chorus of this world
Yeah......................
I rejoined a familiar path in the woods and walked to a stream. Usually I stand on the path above the stream, but this time I went to the other side of the path and climbed down onto the drainage pipe. I sat for a while, praying, complaining a bit. Deciding that was where to leave my melancholiness, I walked back to the church, wrestling between getting in the car and going home or finishing out the service. I summoned courage and returned to the service at the end of the sermon. After dismissal I decided it was time to face the ghosts of the building. I walked the hallways while the music team sang Faithful One so unchanging.
You are my Rock in times of trouble
You lift me up when I fall down
All through the storm your love is
The answer
My hope is in you alone.
As I walked I harmonized to the song. Worshipped some more. I visited rooms that held memories and said goodbye to them. They're only rooms. Many people have come and gone in them and they have had many uses. Only rooms...no more.
I didn't get what I bargained for this morning. It was disjointed, unfocused, varied, and some would say it wasn't church because I only participated in 15 minutes of the service. Yet God met me in every part. He opened me, touched me, reminded me of His permanence.
I walked through the meadow leading to the forest. This scripture/song kept running through my mind:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases
His mercies they never come to an end
They are new every morning, new every morning
Great is your faithfulness oh Lord
Great is your faithfulness.
As I passed people we smiled and greeted each other. Community. I patted some eager dogs. As soon as I hit the woods I ventured on a solitary path I had never been on. This was a good time for an adventure. As I dodged edges of stray blackberry bushes and looked at the trees I sang aloud part of this song that I've quoted before:
Make a joyful noise to the Lord all the earth (x4)
The flowers of the field cry to be heard
The trees of the forest are singing
And all of the mountains with one voice
Are joining the chorus of this world
Yeah......................
I rejoined a familiar path in the woods and walked to a stream. Usually I stand on the path above the stream, but this time I went to the other side of the path and climbed down onto the drainage pipe. I sat for a while, praying, complaining a bit. Deciding that was where to leave my melancholiness, I walked back to the church, wrestling between getting in the car and going home or finishing out the service. I summoned courage and returned to the service at the end of the sermon. After dismissal I decided it was time to face the ghosts of the building. I walked the hallways while the music team sang Faithful One so unchanging.
You are my Rock in times of trouble
You lift me up when I fall down
All through the storm your love is
The answer
My hope is in you alone.
As I walked I harmonized to the song. Worshipped some more. I visited rooms that held memories and said goodbye to them. They're only rooms. Many people have come and gone in them and they have had many uses. Only rooms...no more.
I didn't get what I bargained for this morning. It was disjointed, unfocused, varied, and some would say it wasn't church because I only participated in 15 minutes of the service. Yet God met me in every part. He opened me, touched me, reminded me of His permanence.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Groaners
SHORT-SHORT STORY:
One lion, two hunter.
one lion, one hunter.
One lion.
FROM MATTHEW:
1) Why did the cactus cross the road?
It was stuck to a chicken.
2) Why did the chicken cross the road?
(If I have to put the answer someone needs to go back to school.)
So, a few weeks ago Matthew found out that I sometimes blog about him. He's not sure how to feel about that. That day we were travelling in the car, and he had to stop to go to the bathroom. Only I couldn't see a gas station, and he had to go NOW. So, I pulled off into an industrial area, drove to the back of the long lot to the area beside the bushes. The lot was trimmed with a chain link fence. Matthew raced out of the car, barely able to contain himself. He smiled when he saw the chain link fence. As he stood with his back to me, and his you-know-whatsit sticking through one of the holes in the fence he said "Now ask me if you can blog about this."
One lion, two hunter.
one lion, one hunter.
One lion.
FROM MATTHEW:
1) Why did the cactus cross the road?
It was stuck to a chicken.
2) Why did the chicken cross the road?
(If I have to put the answer someone needs to go back to school.)
So, a few weeks ago Matthew found out that I sometimes blog about him. He's not sure how to feel about that. That day we were travelling in the car, and he had to stop to go to the bathroom. Only I couldn't see a gas station, and he had to go NOW. So, I pulled off into an industrial area, drove to the back of the long lot to the area beside the bushes. The lot was trimmed with a chain link fence. Matthew raced out of the car, barely able to contain himself. He smiled when he saw the chain link fence. As he stood with his back to me, and his you-know-whatsit sticking through one of the holes in the fence he said "Now ask me if you can blog about this."
Friday, July 08, 2005
The storms of life
Take a look at this Scripture in Romans 5, to see what emotions being with Christ invokes in the Christian:
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we:
• have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.
• rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
• rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
Man, the bold part of this scripture really sucks. Rejoice in our sufferings?
I know a number of people lately who have been feeling discouraged, perhaps distant from God, upset at others, their situations, themselves. In fact, when I tried to think of the names of people that I personally know who fall into this category it took me 5 seconds to come up with 7 names. That's scary.
Many times it seems I've been holding up an umbrella, waiting for the storms to subside. One after another they rolled in. You know what I'm talking about. An umbrella is useless in those kind of storms. So I cower, wrapping my coat around my knees to keep warm. I cry out "When will you stop!!!!!!!!!" It's not a questions really. It's a demand. I whine about it not being fair for the storms to continue. They're ruining my life.
I see a big tree. The ground underneath it is dry, because the tree is so strong, thick, dense. To get to it means to have to run, to perhaps slip in the mud, to get even wetter and dirtier. It seems like a far way off. My umbrella is almost shredded so it will be no good. I can stay and roll tighter and rock back and forth to generate heat. There is not much more I am willing to take. Did you notice that I said "am willing", not "can". Sure, when I'm saying it the word can is used. You know. What choice will I make? To wait until all is passed, after being buffeted, or to run.
To run? Yes. To Race through the storm, slip in the mud, pick up my hurt and slimy body, let the rain and hail pummel me, knowing that I will soon be at safety. Get out of my own place and move. Go to the shelter. Ahhhh, dry land.
Wait, is that another person in the storm? They're lost and can't see the way. What will I do now?
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we:
• have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.
• rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
• rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
Man, the bold part of this scripture really sucks. Rejoice in our sufferings?
I know a number of people lately who have been feeling discouraged, perhaps distant from God, upset at others, their situations, themselves. In fact, when I tried to think of the names of people that I personally know who fall into this category it took me 5 seconds to come up with 7 names. That's scary.
Many times it seems I've been holding up an umbrella, waiting for the storms to subside. One after another they rolled in. You know what I'm talking about. An umbrella is useless in those kind of storms. So I cower, wrapping my coat around my knees to keep warm. I cry out "When will you stop!!!!!!!!!" It's not a questions really. It's a demand. I whine about it not being fair for the storms to continue. They're ruining my life.
I see a big tree. The ground underneath it is dry, because the tree is so strong, thick, dense. To get to it means to have to run, to perhaps slip in the mud, to get even wetter and dirtier. It seems like a far way off. My umbrella is almost shredded so it will be no good. I can stay and roll tighter and rock back and forth to generate heat. There is not much more I am willing to take. Did you notice that I said "am willing", not "can". Sure, when I'm saying it the word can is used. You know. What choice will I make? To wait until all is passed, after being buffeted, or to run.
To run? Yes. To Race through the storm, slip in the mud, pick up my hurt and slimy body, let the rain and hail pummel me, knowing that I will soon be at safety. Get out of my own place and move. Go to the shelter. Ahhhh, dry land.
Wait, is that another person in the storm? They're lost and can't see the way. What will I do now?
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
To Dream the Dream
Wilsonian posted about her dreams...her goals. At the end she asked what we, her readers, would dream. The last several months I know the potential to dream is there, but I don't know what to do with the empty canvas. I'm an artist standing before the easel, no inspiration coming forthwith. The tools are present, yet the ideas vacant. Why?
I know the answer, for myself at least. The aches and pains of life knock the wind out of me, and little by little the unrealized dreams build a life of cynicism, disguised as reality. The human existence is difficult and fraught with disappointment. I won't cloak it for this post. I won't blame anyone. It's the way this frailty plays out.
I had dreams. Of being a good wife, most of all. That was my number one goal. Of going to Bible School for at least a year. Of hairdressing. Of banking. They were desires I had when I was 18 and carried them for many years. I performed all those functions, sometimes mediocre, some days horribly, somedays in excellence. I'm no longer a wife, and not working. These are results of situations, responses, choices.
I had other dreams, both for me as an individual and for my family. So many of my dreams became what I wanted for others or what they wanted for themselves and dreaming just for my sake became almost impossible. Besides, dreams rarely come true. I'm not blaming anyone - please don't get upset. In my world they didn't become reality.
As usual, I am fighting the urge to resolve the "negativity" in this blog by pointing out that over the years God has given me other things that I wouldn't have dreamed of...blessings not anticipated. See, I just said it. But I won't go on about that right now, because this is more about purging than resolving. Once I walk away from this keyboard I will remind myself of those surprises he has given me. Of the moments of joy that can't be imitated or planned.
Right now I want to take a moment to talk about why I have a hard time dreaming. Why my mind is so empty when I wonder what I would write with Biscotti's taglines. For now, I dream of the day I can dream. That will fulfill the most important one of all. To give myself permission. To allow hope and optimism to creep in, ever so slightly at first. To trust in it again, as when I was a child.
I know the answer, for myself at least. The aches and pains of life knock the wind out of me, and little by little the unrealized dreams build a life of cynicism, disguised as reality. The human existence is difficult and fraught with disappointment. I won't cloak it for this post. I won't blame anyone. It's the way this frailty plays out.
I had dreams. Of being a good wife, most of all. That was my number one goal. Of going to Bible School for at least a year. Of hairdressing. Of banking. They were desires I had when I was 18 and carried them for many years. I performed all those functions, sometimes mediocre, some days horribly, somedays in excellence. I'm no longer a wife, and not working. These are results of situations, responses, choices.
I had other dreams, both for me as an individual and for my family. So many of my dreams became what I wanted for others or what they wanted for themselves and dreaming just for my sake became almost impossible. Besides, dreams rarely come true. I'm not blaming anyone - please don't get upset. In my world they didn't become reality.
As usual, I am fighting the urge to resolve the "negativity" in this blog by pointing out that over the years God has given me other things that I wouldn't have dreamed of...blessings not anticipated. See, I just said it. But I won't go on about that right now, because this is more about purging than resolving. Once I walk away from this keyboard I will remind myself of those surprises he has given me. Of the moments of joy that can't be imitated or planned.
Right now I want to take a moment to talk about why I have a hard time dreaming. Why my mind is so empty when I wonder what I would write with Biscotti's taglines. For now, I dream of the day I can dream. That will fulfill the most important one of all. To give myself permission. To allow hope and optimism to creep in, ever so slightly at first. To trust in it again, as when I was a child.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Ten Ways to Maintain Your Privacy (Red Green)
1. Place a "Watch for Land Mines" sign on your front lawn beside an exploded car.
2. Keep a big dog chewing a pantleg on your porch.
3. Rewire your doorbell so that it plays a tape of gunshots.
4. Cover your welcome mat with shards of broken beer bottles.
5. Put one of those yellow "Police--Do not Cross" tapes across the end of your driveway.
6. On your front door hang a sign saying "Caution--Exorcism in Progress."
7. Leave a pizza delivery car in your driveway with the door open and the engine running for a week or so.
8. When you see someone approaching, start a chainsaw running inside the house.
9. Place quarantine signs around your property.
10. In the middle of the night, turn over a rectangle of your front lawn so that it looks like a fresh grave. Add another one every few months.
2. Keep a big dog chewing a pantleg on your porch.
3. Rewire your doorbell so that it plays a tape of gunshots.
4. Cover your welcome mat with shards of broken beer bottles.
5. Put one of those yellow "Police--Do not Cross" tapes across the end of your driveway.
6. On your front door hang a sign saying "Caution--Exorcism in Progress."
7. Leave a pizza delivery car in your driveway with the door open and the engine running for a week or so.
8. When you see someone approaching, start a chainsaw running inside the house.
9. Place quarantine signs around your property.
10. In the middle of the night, turn over a rectangle of your front lawn so that it looks like a fresh grave. Add another one every few months.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Speechless (well, maybe not quite)
You know how it is in the world of blogging. For a period you can't contain yourself, the thoughts come so quickly. Posting every day is easy. Then at other times it's hard to muster half a thought, never mind something astounding. So quickly it can shift from one to the other. Summer doesn't help, because who wants to be sedentary in front of the computer when one can be outside or doing other things? I've had some posts on the mind for a couple of months now, but not taken the time to fully formulate them. One of them I concocted during a dark period this late winter, fully intending to write it down. I haven't. Somehow what I felt at that time I don't feel as strongly now. That's a good thing. I still like to think of it once in a while to remind me of what I have been through and what may resurface to work through again. But until I actually blog it there are other things to write.
A friend sent me a book this week. I've skimmed through it, and it's easy to read. Yay! Already what I have read in it really hits home. Not really a comedy. I have a dilemna now. The Red Green book has been on the shelf for a couple of weeks now, only half finished. How can I cope with two books on the go? They each have about 200 double-spaced pages! Maybe I'll get through them before my 50th birthday (no smart comments about how soon that will be).
A friend sent me a book this week. I've skimmed through it, and it's easy to read. Yay! Already what I have read in it really hits home. Not really a comedy. I have a dilemna now. The Red Green book has been on the shelf for a couple of weeks now, only half finished. How can I cope with two books on the go? They each have about 200 double-spaced pages! Maybe I'll get through them before my 50th birthday (no smart comments about how soon that will be).
Friday, July 01, 2005
Duke Harris
The first time I visited New Heights was just after Duke died. I never knew him. That first morning I recall how things were set up in the cafeteria and some of the people at the front, squished into the corner of the room. Scott spoke about Duke and the impact of his death upon the young friends who sat with Scott on the sloping hill at the hospital as they mourned. I don't remember what else the sermon was about, but I recall the love in memory.
Some people impact your life, even after they've gone. It was obvious that day that Duke was a kind, selfless young man. I still hear about him and those who say his name say it tenderly. When I look at Angie and Bill I can't help but think that he was like them. Considerate, patient, witty, brimming with integrity.
Life is never over, even after the blood runs cold. Maybe one day you and I can be a Duke Harris. That sounds like a good thing.
Some people impact your life, even after they've gone. It was obvious that day that Duke was a kind, selfless young man. I still hear about him and those who say his name say it tenderly. When I look at Angie and Bill I can't help but think that he was like them. Considerate, patient, witty, brimming with integrity.
Life is never over, even after the blood runs cold. Maybe one day you and I can be a Duke Harris. That sounds like a good thing.