The Quest for Freedom

It had been a restless nights sleep; 2 hours here… 30 minutes there…

Expectation had been my enemy for the evening.

I silenced my alarm clock before it has a chance to scratch it’s nails down the chalk board of my exhausted mind.

No matter how many times I do it, 5 am is just too early to get up. My puffy lids barely cracked open above my bloodshot eyes as I rolled out of bed, half anticipating, half dreading the adventure that was slowly becoming a reality. I snuck into the kitchen in search of something to fill my angrily empty stomach. After I cracked open the shade to let in a bit of morning glow, I slurped down a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats. The night before I had gotten my pack out and ready to be filled. I quietly threw some ice and water in my Camelback and placed my energy bars in a convenient pouch ready for an emergency refuel. I found a couple of oranges I knew I would enjoy eating on the trail. I threw on my hiking shorts and Merrill sneakers feeling bit like Rambo when he laced up his boots and strapped on his weapons. As the time neared 6 I feel the urge to purge myself of last nights liquids. As I was doing so I saw a figure pass by my window. I opened it a crack to see Paul creeping around looking concerned but anxious. I took that as a good sign as I loudly whispered out his name. Peaking out of the bathroom window I asked him if he was ready to go. He lifted up his flip-flop clad feet and sarcastically said, “Does it look like it?” I felt a mixture of pride and sadness at the news of Paul backing out. I was proud the he actually showed up to tell me he wasn’t going. I was, of course, saddened by his decision to pull out of one of the biggest quests of our lives.

I opened my door and looked out upon the ridge of Mount Wilson and was hit with a sudden surge of energy and excitement of the adventure that was lingering on the horizon. I glanced to my right as I hear the Newcomb’s door creak open. Dave emerged from the open door with the aroma of coffee still clinging to his clothes. Dang. I knew I should have knocked earlier to try and bum a cup of java. I sensed something in my peripheral and quickly looked to my left. What appeared to be a gazelle came bounding out of the Bleeker’s apartment. Well no, it was actually pastor Kraig T; majestic, confidant, and ready. We headed down the stairs to meet up with Tim. He was puffy-eyed and ready to go as we convened on the basketball court. The four warriors headed to our faithful steed (affectionately known as “The Bonny”) to begin our drive to The Bridge to Nowhere.

...to be continued...

SORRY!

OK. I don't quite know how this blog stuff works yet. I didn't mean to shut everyone out. Sorry. I kept checking the site and didn't see anyone responding to my blog about JJ. I figured it would be a hot topic. Now I know it was my fault.

Anyways, I'll try and think of something new to ramble about that some of you might be interested in reading.

Peace.

Four Guacamoles

There's something about innocence that is attractive. As I watch JJ waddle his way through life, I love watching him approach things with innocence. Earlier I gave him my cup of water because he wanted it. He kept pointing to it and saying "Daddy." He took it and put it to his mouth. He still doesn't understand that he needs to tilt his back enough to get the water to flow past his lips. So I told him, "JJ, you need to tip your head back." He obliged, and the water gushed down the front of him and soaked him to the bone. It was water straight from the fridge, so it was especially funny to see the look on his face when the extra cold liquid covered his shirt and pants.

I'll let those of you with pastors hearts draw the spiritual metaphors for this story. I just wanted to talk about JJ for a while. He's so cool and I miss him when we put him to bed.

Plus, I told someone that I would blog about "Four Gaucamoles." It's a funny story that I will hold off on telling, so not to risk angering or embarrassing my friend. But if you think about it long enough, you might be able to figure out what happened.

Peace.

Ministry?

Well, I've been thinking for a while about something I could use some help on. I will phrase the questions as personal quandaries, but you may assume them to be general in intent. How can I, as a supposed Christian leader, make sure my idea of "ministry" isn't simply something I do inside the walls of a church? How can I make sure I live my life as a ministry in and of itself? Almost more importantly, how can I help others understand this idea as well without making them feel as though what they have done as ministry, or are doing as ministry, is wrong, useless, or misguided?

I've been thinking about this a lot in regards to my friend Randy. He is a homeless guy who just loves JJ and me and Bets. When ever we get the chance we stop and hang out with him and he tells us stories and jokes around. But simply being a friend to him and letting my guard down enough to let him be friends with me is as important as a teen group at church, or a young adult gathering, or a choir practice. How do I keep this understanding of Christian life at the forefront of my thought, when we still live in such a systematized society that likes things in neat little boxes? How do I help people begin to see how important it is for them to live each moment of their lives like they are serving the Lord right then and there?

Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?

To reveal or not to reveal, that is the question

Well, it has recently been brought to my attention that some people are responding to blogs using "anonymous" in place of their name. I wonder if this is OK or not? I don't mind the idea so much, but it appears to bother some people. What do you think? Anonymous...?

King of the Juice!!

I don't know if it's sacrilegious to laugh at something like this, but I'm pretty sure God would get a kick out of it. Tim and Maija's neighbor kids made it on Easter. I was planning on putting this picture in my big paper, but I didn't have time. Oh, well. Let the blaspheming begin.

A new dawn approaches

Well, I'm going to write this knowing that no one is going to read it. I'm completely comfortable with that as my blogging history is sparse and unimpressive. I hope to begin to build it up so there are things people might actually be interested in reading some day. Today, however, is probably not that day. Betsy, JJ, and I are creeping up on our final months here in sunny CA. We are heading east to explore a new world of unemployment, mooching, and faith that we are all deathly afraid of. Our long 4 years here have meant so much to us that we hope to finally have a few minutes of free time to process everything that we have gone through. God continues to be gracious in the curve balls that are being thrown. I was offered a really cool job last night, from someone I haven't talked to in probably a year. It is a job that is so far from what I have been imagining our next step to be, that I'm not even sure how to confront it as a possibility. We are still working on our MCC applications. And the Naz connection is running strong as I have received a few e-mails about people wanting to help us go anywhere in the world. Sounds cool, but that offer basically equates to spinning a globe in geography class and randomly stopping it with my finger. I don't know. I know God knows, but I don't.

Anywho...

I ramble on as the ticking clock reminds me that it's not only late, but that our lives are about to change.

Peace.