GamgeesDream

Pictures!

2009-07-05T16:00:00.000-07:00

A good, kind, and very talented gent named Scot Huber took pictures for us at the wedding, and here are a few of his favourites!

Hitched

2009-07-04T14:06:00.000-07:00

I've gone and been hitched to this lovely lady! Isn't she beautiful!?! And kind, and funny, and generous, and ... oh, so many more marvelous and good things! God a blessed us both in each other, and we are very very thankful.

Frankly, we're both still in such a state from the wedding that we're a bit silly over it. I of course cannot speak for all the guests, but the whole event was just a joy for Anna and I. Our families came together and put on such a fun bash! And with so many close friends helping out with music and lights, food and more food, and more music, and signs and favors and decorations, and bouquets and photos... it was a night to remember, and an event worth celebrating all on it's own! We were so honored and thrilled beyond expression to be there, and to be so loved by all of the people in our lives. It was fantastic.

Anyway, I just thought I'd post and let the world know that my love and I are married, and overjoyed at the prospect of the rest of our lives together.

-Josh

Spin World, Spin On!

2009-03-07T15:57:00.000-08:00

I have been inspired to post by my sisters, who have been so instrumental in my life and development.

I just came home from a movie which may be one more step in either direction for our culture: a step up and in, or down and out. It is artfully done, a remarkably accurate transfer from the pages of a comic to the walls of the worlds movie theaters. But for all that work of actors and writers, camera men, digital artists, musicians and other creative professionals all it is is a mirror. A very shiny mirror.

Both of my sisters posted on their present lives, both works dealing with their hopes and dreams. One speaking with hope about what she sees just around the corner: a relief from restrictions and a bit more freedom and support. The other writes about hopes and dreams still yet to be thrown into motion. The latter was not quite such a joyful and excited post, the realization of her dreams are a bit farther away. Still, I think they are no less solid than anything else in the world that surrounds her.

But all my certainty is for naught if I don't tell her of it.
So here goes:

Dear sister and first of friends,

You are right. All my studies in Psychology and human development reveal the same fact. We are amazingly powerful and distinctly fragile beings. Very few of us are aware of it, and often we hurt ourselves because of that. One little thing can break us; one wrong judgment can throw us off of our straight and narrow path. We do live on the edge of a knife, and that blade is so sharp it often tears through the fabric of our lives without our even knowing it.

But.
But our lives are also in constant motion. We do not stand still for even a moment, we are always moving toward a goal. And as we run we adjust our course as we grow more focused upon that goal. Just as a wheel grows harder to turn as it's momentum grows, so too we resist the forces that try and throw us off course.

You've mountain-biked, you know this principle. Dad taught us when we first started on the trails: "Pick a line and follow it, the bike can take you over more than you think it can." And as a runner you should have learned that it wasn't really the bike that took us over those rough trails, it was the momentum. Our momentum. We made it, purposed it for taking us down the line, to achieve our goals. And it took us there.

So, dear Sis', just keep going. You are fragile, but the purpose that God has gifted you with, which is found in your never faltering desire to achieve His goals, makes you infinitely powerful so long as you run for Him. And you do, so fear not and keep on keeping on. Your prized dreams await you!

That said, one last word on the film I watched today: it is a marvelous and creative work. A professional and masterful reflection on our society and what we have and may make of ourselves. A very shiny mirror held in the hand of a barbarian running at full tilt, not knowing where he's headed. The mirror is worthless if it cannot make that barbarian pause in mid-step and take a second look at himself.

If this film does not cause us to collectively pause and check were our society is taking us then it is as worthless as a pile of shattered glass and broken metal: a broken mirror, tossed aside by a mindless brute heading blindly towards ruin. Quite useless.

7I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing

-2 Timothy 4z;7-10

Flux, Return, Aspire

2007-10-29T23:17:00.000-07:00

I was a dream in passing,
While leaving off this life
(If only for a moment's rest
out of th' infernal strife.)

I mossied with the flowers,
Took in a fickle fair,
Then dressed myself in all the best:
Before my God laid bare.

And then came Now's damnation.
Now I'm back to here.
And only hope to live in peace,
and not eternal fear.

Story III

2007-07-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

It was dark.

Dark, but blessedly silent. I was alone in the place of my dream's birth.

Now, I'm not sure if you're personally aware of that place in the dark where dreams come from; Cool and crisp to those senses that still seem to work though no body is attached to which they might belong. At least, that is how it feels when it is not filled with voices of damned souls. This place in the cool dark of your mind is an embodiment of potential growth when your mind and soul are healthy and whole. When that place is peaceful, then you are at peace while there.

I lay there in that dark nowhere for a moment just enjoying the sanctity of the pure essence around me. I was lost in the joy of green growing things of the soul that soak in the the sun and rain of Heaven when I became aware of a sound. It was almost a voice, but somehow beyond my hearing. Though I could not repeat the words, for I know them not, when I listened only to that sweet sound that whispered in the corners of my mind I had the distinct impression that I was being called...

... but not knowing the language, nor the speaker, I could not reply. So I simply lay and listened. I knew the voice was speaking to me, and I knew somehow that it belonged to a lovely person. I was quite flattered as I lay there and listened to this comforting voice. I thought that perhaps I had somehow regained the power to dream, and that this was just the way that my subconscious was welcoming me back. I was quite pleased with myself.

Then the voice stopped.

Before I had the time to wonder at this I found myself no longer in the cool darkness of my mind, but instead under the shadow of a great cliff that loomed not twenty feet from where I lay. The cliff shot up at a straight angle from the ground, and climbed to what seemed like painfully sharp and unwelcoming points a vast distance above me.

This by itself most unsettling. The image these cliffs presented was awe filled; the combination of height and angular settings of rock made it seem as though it was all just a moment away from coming down upon me in all fury and haste to force my life from my body after scaring me out of my wits. (Strange as this may sound, I assure you that you would have thought something similar if you had been there alone and without any idea of what the place was and why you were there.)

I closed my eyes as soon as I had possession of my wits again. You see I was quite confused as well as frightened. This was not the sort of place I often found myself when I dreamed. I almost never was afraid while I dreamed, and as this was most definitely the state that I was in I was most disoriented.

I decided to try and leave this place for another, so I thought of a lovely scene filled with autumn leaves and a happy tinkling stream with butterflies flitting about above it. I then sat up with my eyes closed, prepared myself as best I could for whatever would come next, and opened them to see...

... butterflies! Lovely butterflies flitting about a beautiful little valley. A beautiful little valley with a happy tinkling stream flowing through it... as it sat at the foot of the monstrous cliff, now spotted here and there with clumps of moss resting on the rocks that still threatened to topple and crush me to bits.

I was quite confused.

Faith: the basis of fiction

2007-06-29T21:49:00.000-07:00

Myth, or fiction in general, has always struck me in to the core of my understanding as being a blessing from God. However, I've never really been able to say why.

But tonight as I started to drift off to sleep after reading a well written book I was gifted with a bit of understanding.

The making of a new story, of a myth of any sort, (and all fiction involves myth,) saves us from the sin of pride while allowing us to still honestly seek the truth. For a Christian author, (being a tool of God) writing can become a freeflow of divine knowledge of a sort. Not a perfect understanding, but general outline of how miraculous and yet informed and purposeful the happenings of life are. A likely story has more power to create faith than what we would call scientific fact, though you can "prove" the latter and not the former. Faith is based on what could be done, not on what we can make happen.

The likely story, or myth, allows us an insight into miracles, grace and true love that cannot be comprehened in any way by a scientific study; for a scientific study is centered not around Truth, but us knowing the Truth. We are the center of that study. Whereas myth allows us to lose ourselves in wonder after the ways that God could work. It takes away the possibility for pride because the story is not about us: it's about the miracles that created the story, and thus centered around the Creator Himself.

That is why I like myth. That is why fiction is my favourite flavour of literature. Because it is centered around God, and worthless if it is not based on His grace.

Thief

2007-06-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

In the darkness before dawn the shadow may move,
in the darkness the soft foot may fall,
in the darkness the watcher may wait at a distance,
in the darkness he may climb the wall.

In the shadows the dog may stir in it's sleep,
in the shadows the masked man may kneel,
in the shadows the gloved hand may ruffle the fur,
in the shadows no threat may he feel.

In the darkness the window may open itself,
in the darkness a figure jumps high,
in the darkness that figure may slip through the house,
in the darkness that figure may sigh.

In the morning the husband may wake from his bed,
in the morning he'll walk down the hall,
in the morning he'll see a window lock broke,
in the morning he'll examine it all.

In the morning that husband will check the whole house,
in the morning, in search of a thief,
in the morning a wife will cry in distress,
in mourning, and then with relief.

In the morning a couple who once was dirt poor,
in the morning they'll find a great gift,
in the darkness the burden of debt that they bore,
that darkness a shadow did lift.

Bodhran Anyone?

2007-06-07T20:00:00.000-07:00

Work was a bit slow today... but once I got home the relaxing really started as I tried (and failed most miserably) to imitate some of the sounds that John Joe Kelly creates on his bodhran in a video that I ran into today during one of those slow moments. This man is the best bodran player that I have ever witnessed! I want so dearly to see him live!

And it may be possible... he is in a band named Flook. And they do tour a bit... so it's possible... I may get to see a legend someday... wouldn't that be fun?

-Josh

Story II

2007-06-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

Then the darkness came...

Now, when I say darkness I do not mean you to understand that it was always night. Nor that I went blind in the waking world. What I mean is that when I went to sleep, and was in that state where dreams are created I found myself to be incapable of creating them. It was as though a hand was holding back my ability to create in the dreamworld. Indeed, as time progressed and this occurred more and more often I decided that something was actually stopping me from dreaming.

I am not about to let something stop me from resting properly, so I did the only sensible thing: I changed my diet. As this failed to change anything at all, expect my experiences in the lieu, I started to pray about it instead.

And nothing happened.

Now, in the modern American Evangelical Church this is of little consequence. So I kept praying, expecting that some sin in my heart was getting in the way of my being a vessel of the Holy Spirit. I forgave everyone that I could think of. I kept myself from all the sins I knew. I stopped speeding. I said please and thank you. Nothing worked. My prayers and requests still seemed to get stuck in the walls of my room, echoing in the immeasurable void that separated me from my maker.

Then one frustrated night at a youth service I decided to ask my pastor to pray over me. I would not explain to him what it was that I wanted, I simply ask him to pray for me. I had decided that if this truly was a spiritual problem then the Lord would show him what he needed to know, and he would be given the words that needed to be said. I went forward after the service hoping for guidance and peace, though not at all sure I would find it.

I cannot say what I expected to happen, but I can say that it was not what occurred. When I went up to my pastor and asked for prayer he simply closed his eyes, placed his hand on my head and said, "Father, help your child to hear your voice clearly, and open his eyes."

I was, without a doubt, disappointed with my pastor. I had come to him in what could have been the crowning moment of spiritual revelation in my young adult life, and he had blown it. I consoled myself on the way home by telling myself that he was just having an off day, and that maybe if I did the same thing next week God would be able to work through him then. I soon arrived home, having never doubted that relying on someone else's spiritual life was my key to happiness and a good nights rest.

That night I slept very poorly.

No longer was there just darkness swallowing up my mind, but there were sounds in the darkness. Not voices. No, these resembled nothing made for communication. These were just sounds of horror. I cannot explain it properly. Just as pure silence can be the most distracting of noises, so these sounds told the most putrefying tales of torture and pain. Try though I did throughout that long darkness I could not wake myself from this hell. Though I had gone to bed late into the night, when I woke with the rising of the sun I was thankful for it.

It was that morning that I did the most sensible thing I've ever done in the entirety of my life: I got on my knees and prayed with the whole of my heart. I acknowledged that I was small, I confessed that I was a fool and I pleaded for forgiveness and help. I'd never felt like less of a person in my life, but I've discovered later in life that this is how one feels when being completely honest about oneself before God, and I've come to realize that this was the real moment of my conversion.

Do not doubt me, I had certainly believed in the existence of God before this morning. But who can say that when they first believed as a young adult that God existed that they understood just what it means to be completely below Him, and powerless in comparison to Him? If anyone can boast that they have been humbled in this manner since childhood then may God rain blessings down upon their head, but I am not such a one. I believed in a maker, in an ordainer, and in a fixer of my larger problems. And I took it on other's witness that the relationship between man and this maker could be a very personal one, but I had never experienced it myself. I respected this "God" fellow, but kept my distance. I had always preferred to say my prayers to Him, not converse with Him.

But now I was humbled. No longer the proud boy who mistook a pastor's blessing for empty words, yet I had no confidence to go on. I had been a fool and I knew it. So conversation with that Maker was beyond me.

The rest of that day was a miserable experience, as was the following night, for I would not let myself sleep for fear of the return of those evil sounds in the darkness of my mind. But by the next night it was too much for me; I found myself once more in the place where I used to create my dreams, the place where the darkness was.

[[: To Be Continued:]]

Story I

2007-05-30T22:27:00.000-07:00

I awoke as I usually do: my senses telling stories of the time that I'd been away from my body, my mind slowly letting go of the adventures of the dreams that I love and hate with all of the passion in me.

I never wake without regretting it in some part of my heart. The world in which the rest of humanity acts just seems to pale in comparison to that which makes up my dreams. But then, few people have dreams like I do. At least, if anyone does have dreams like me they don't ever mention it...

Most folks, if you ask them about their most vivid dreams, will tell you of flying or standing in front of their old school mates in the buff, only to wake and find reality a calm comfort to their thin-stretched nerves. I've never really had that experience.

I wake to find the world a glaring nuisance. I want to return to my dreams, not because they're pleasant, but because I feel so much more real There. Not that There is any more real than Here, but, everything seems to mean more. Or maybe it's not that things mean more, but simply that it is easier to see what things mean There. Anyway, the world of my dreams just appeals so much more. It's a world that fills my soul with love and makes me fear for life itself in one fell swoop. In this world you get up and go to school or work, saying "Hellohowareyou?" to every person who makes eye contact with you and never once actually wonder what the answer is. If anyone says anything beyond "Fine,thankyou.Howareyou?" most folks hardly notice. But to ask a question without listening to the answer in that other world is folly. In that world that stretches beyond this reality there is a certain genuine nature to things that this place cannot compete with.

Because of this, falling asleep is much like waking from life to find that life is only the start of living. And waking is like being forced into rented dress clothes that are far too small for you. I can't move properly, and am afraid to test my limits for fear of breaking something on mistake, and being made to pay for it later.

But just what am I talking about? Here it is: I dream.

Nothing new to that I suppose, but I dream bigger and deeper and wider than most. I don't know how, and I'm not convinced that it's just all in my head. But when I sleep I dream. And when I dream I truly live. Nowadays anyway...

Once this wasn't the way of it. As a kid I knew my dreams were powerful, and I believed in the power of my dreams just like any other child. Nightmares were just as bad as things in reality if not worse. But most people grow out of that, and so I convinced myself as I grew up into adolescence that it was that same with me: my nightmares were a fantasy, the glorious dreams were fake. Perhaps it was because I was convinced of this that these manifestations of imagination and spiritual life left me. I started to dream dreams that everyone dreams: walking in fields, flying, being wealthy and having everyone like me for no reason. My dreams grew dull and pointless. Just like my mind and spirit.

Then the darkness came.

[[:To Be Continued:]]

On Good Tales I

2007-05-06T19:56:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking quite a fair bit recently about what makes a good story. What elements in writing that I find most attractive and enveloping. And because I can't seem to come up with anything else to write about, I'm going to write about some of those thoughts.

Thought One: Swords

Swords are amazing. Bladed weapons in general are a personal favourite of mine and have been since I was a child. But the sword is the king of bladed weapons.

It has such a noble history. And so many diverse and useful qualities. One of the most basic weapons is a club, and very useful too it has been proved. But the sword one-ups it. Not only can you bash your opponent to a pulp with it, you can also debilitate and distract with the slightest touch!

And let us face the facts: swords just look elegant. They have the dangerous lines of serpents and the innocent boldness of a feather wrapped up in one wonderful shiny package.

And in the best of myths they play key roles. What would Aurthur be with out the magical Excalibur? Where would Aragorn be without Narsil/Anduril? I could go on for a long time. It seems that many authors have decided that their protagonist's and antagonist's alike would best be served by a sword.

And there just seems to be something in the blade...

The forging process seems to leave all sorts of opportunities in story-telling open. What is it made of? What went into it? Some authors go to great lengths telling of how the weapon is made, others resist the urge to go into details and just give vague descriptions. But the greatest leave it a mystery to be wondered after. Perhaps they will just hint at who may have made the sword, or that it's form is taken after a certain style... or say nothing at all. The reader is left to wonder, and wonder we do...

Also, there often is a spirit of morality about a blade. It seems to hold the very power of life in itself. It can take it away so very quickly that it cannot be held, or even gazed upon by a character without some moral judgment being made upon the them by either the author or the reader. The bestowal of a blade for use is the utmost honour, and the removal a portrayal of most extreme distrust.

Then there is the use of the blade. The motions of the wielder are capable of saying so much about their internal state. Smooth fluid motions can be a sign of either complete lack of emotion, or the most mature control of it. Wreck less anger is very easily portrayed by the opposite movements. Earnestness can be demonstrated in the energy and dedication of a stroke, and likewise a jovial heart in light deflections of attack and witty dialog thrown into the fray.

The mere presence of a sword in a storyline creates a world of possibility that has barely been scratched by this post.

However, just talking about it has given me some wonderful ideas for future works. So thank you all for being a good audience.

-Josh

Time Slips By...

2007-04-22T22:16:00.000-07:00

And four more work weeks are left in the semester.

God help us.

But...
It's been raining! And the roses and irises have been blooming in the midst of it! It's just glorious to come home tired and worn out to the smell of rain and roses. And they look pretty nice too.

A Scalet Conglomerate of Coagulants

2007-04-04T22:23:00.000-07:00

Blood

This may seem a strange topic for me to write on. But rest assured that I'm not really being morbid, just inquisitive. I keep getting cuts on my hands you see, either while working at Biola or here at home, so I've been experiencing blood once more in my life.

It's strange how little you see of it for awhile. When you're a kid you see it all the time. A skinned knee or elbow, a myriad of scratches from falling in a rosebush, dropping something on you toe, etcetera. But in this more adult world I seem to have stumbled into blood seems less constant. When you see it most it's time for extreme worry. Like in car accidents down at the corner of your street.

But as I said, I've been able to experience it this last month without needing the extreme worry for life that seems so often to accompany the sight nowadays.

It gets everywhere. You think you've washed it all off, but no. There's always one spot more that you haven't seen where it's dried. It seems to have an amazing knack for getting into the grooves of your hands.

It's pretty. Thicker than wine, but with so much more depth. Thinner than paint, but with so much more colour. You can almost see the water in the blood trying to escape and the coagulants trying to close up and protect the moment it's freed from the vein. Amazing stuff. And really really pretty. Liquid jewels created by God to protect and heal.

But when it's separated from the body, puddling or dripping on something other than skin... it's so sad. It serves no purpose but to speak of pain. It looks so mournful.

One art form that really seems to capture blood well is anime. I'm sure I've been influenced by it in my thinking.

For suffering there are just huge blotches of red drawn. Ex: a bent figure clutching their chest, a large and very liquid red puddle at their feet. It hurts just looking at them.

For sharp pain there are the sprays of blood from an open wound. Ex: a cut from a sword strike, either a thin spray of scarlet or (for really violent actions) a large fountain-like spray. It brings to mind the sharpness of the pain felt from a wound.

And then there's the most pretty kind. It's so rare, but beautiful. There is the kind that tries to show the purity and innocence of the person whose blood is being spilt. Let us say that once more the wound is done with a sword (perhaps it was a mis-stroke of some sort.) We will see the blade after it has passed through: bloodless but for perhaps a single drop at the tip. A look of despair will cross some one's face, either the person holding the sword or some onlooker. The one who has been cut will just look surprised and a little sad. A single drop of dark blood will well from the wound and fall away (oh so slowly!) As it falls the dark red droplet will curl and transform: it's motion will be drawn out and slow, sometimes the artist will even go so far as to have it become a butterfly like shape which slowly and with smooth reluctance flutters down to the ground to break into a dozen small droplets on the earth. I think the most beautiful version of this I ever saw was done with something very close to watercolours. It was amazing!

This last one (my favourite portrayal of bleeding) (golly that sounds strange!) seems to be the least realistic in a physical sense: blood does not make everything slow-motion. Blood does not become a butterfly and flutter to the ground. Violins do not always play when you bleed. But I still think there's something to it.

It may have to do with how immersed I am in the Biblical ideals of blood. It may have to do with my personal belief in those ideals. From the time I was a child I knew that blood was something special. After all, blood shaped my grandfather's life, and through him mine.

He was a pagan at first. Well, apparently for a good while he was. He knew the scriptures, had a good deal of instruction in them. But he was not convinced. How can blood was away sin?

Anyway, one day he was working in his garden and he cut his hand on accident. Apparently it was deep, for the blood welled all over the place.

If you've ever worked in a garden you know how dirty hands can really get. Dirt under your nails, in the grooves of your palms, working into you callouses, sneaking it's way up past your elbows...

Anyway, as Grandpa sat there looking at the blood welling from his palm and getting all over the place he realized that the blood was washing away all the dirt. Beneath the blood his hands were clean. And in the same way whoever was under that curtain of Christ's blood was clean as well.

A most clever and amazing bit of this is that when he went into the house shortly after (inspiration being great, but fainting from blood loss not desirable... after all, he WAS bleeding freely enough to wash his hands clean) and washed all of the blood off the cut was healed. As easily as that. Washed in blood, and finally healed of your wounds.

It's because of this ideal of blood that I like the latter anime. No, it's not a purely Christian view. It does not endow blood with amazing spiritually cleansing qualities. But it does hold to the beauty that is to be found in it. And that I appreciate.

Here's to the Black Rood, most honoured of all trees!

-Josh

Time on the Wing

2007-02-11T16:05:00.000-08:00

Today I was plagued with a very bad headache, or rather, and pain that keeps reoccurring in the top of my neck finally overwhelmed me.

But that is not my topic today.

It was because of this headache that I stayed home from just about everything. I didn't go to Church, I didn't take a walk in the park, I didn't go out and enjoy the beautiful weather. Reading was even difficult as it puts strain on just the wrong part of my neck. So I ended up looking at old photo albums.

It's amazing what pictures can help you to remember. And it's interesting to see just what it is that moves you about them. For instance, it no longer hurts to look at pictures of me and my old girlfriends. I was no player, but there were a couple of them, and it's always been painful and frustrating to be reminded of those past relationships. But it doesn't anymore. I actually looked back on them and just remembered what very nice people they were. How they helped me through some very strange and awkward stages of my life and mostly didn't take advantage of them. Good people, all of them, and I'm actually grateful for the time we once had and glad that we're all still friends.

I looked back on several births, remembered being completely confused at my niece's birth, and crying silently in the corner of the delivery room for relief and joy and my nephew's. Having your family grow before your eyes is an amazing thing. And God has been so good and kind to us.

I watched as my sister's got married one by one. This was the most surprising of changes and feelings to work through. It hurt! It made me realize just how very alone I feel now, and have felt for several years. Please understand, I love my brothers-in-law. I could not love them more were they actually brothers of blood! But the marriages mark when my sister's lives became fused with someone else. When they left our small family and brought in an new one. So now we are larger, but more distant.

Jessica, I don't think I cried enough at your wedding. For Laurel's I knew a bit of what was coming, but I really hadn't a clue at yours. I miss you Jess. And you Rho.

I watched as my father turned gray. It startled me quite a bit actually. I turned on page and most of Dad's hair turned from almost black with a few streaks of pepper to almost completely white. He looked horrible! Then I realized that this was when he had started chemo for his cancer. A handful of pages later we celebrated him being cancer free, and his hair and face regained life. He never got that near-black hair back, though he did get a darker gray without so much white.

I watched and laughed as I experimented with my hair. I was amazed at the lithe muscle I put on during the freshman year of high school in cross country, and then the sheer bulk that I traded it for in senior year. I wondered where it all went.... I watched myself graduate from public high school, and start my career in college.

It's strange to be able to look back, and see, as though in a mirror, what you looked like. What a strange thing technology is! Every time I saw myself, and looked into the younger version of my own eyes I could see my old soul. I could see the beginnings of the next page's pictures. I could see the memories that had effected my choices of the day, I could see the moments that would change my life. I could see the mistakes I was about to make, the naive ideas I was working off of. And a lot of grace from God. Hindsight is 20-20 they say, well, with mine I see a lot of grace from God. And I'm thankful.

I wonder what I will see in a years time...

So...

2007-01-21T20:23:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I've written anything new here, and for that I must apologize. You see, my life has taken a bit of a turn of late: I've become completely enamoured with a wonderful young lady.

Now, this may seem to pose no problem at all for the posting of blogs. But it does. My mind is not all that expansive, and generally only holds on to one topic at a time with much sucess. So as I'm often thinking of her or things directly related to her (such as different aspects of our relationship) I don't feel that I have the right to publish my thoughts. And really, after having spent so much time pondering such a God given wonder, how can you expect me to speak on any other subject with any clarity of thought at all?

The answer is simple: you cannot.

Thus, if you continue reading this post you ought to be aware that it may turn out to be complete gibberish. And as allowing yourself to keep reading this puts me in control of your thoughts for a short time, you may find yourself joining me in that gibberish within the confines of your very own head. Scary thought, eh?

That said, I think I will go to bed.

Goodnight.

-Josh

Comfort food? I'm not so sure...

2006-12-02T23:53:00.000-08:00

But I do know that this stuff tastes great! Even when I have a cold and am not tasting quite as well as usual.

For now, that is all.

Goodnight everybody!

Obey the fist!

2006-11-07T21:02:00.000-08:00

Today I took a fairly hard test. It was the culmination of several days worth of studying, and I think I did fairly well. I hope so anyway.

Anywho, as a result of this intensive studying, and it just generally being the time of the semester when a collegiate student is likely to have a fried brain, I do declare it Invader Zim watching season! Yes folks, it is time (when you have time that you don't need to be wasting in some other foolish pursuit, such as education) to revel in the mystery that is Zim, the wonder that is Gir, and the marvelous and murderous, silly and stupid, odd and odder thing that is this show. Be amazed. Be disgusted. Be a potato. Spud.

"Dumb like a moose Dib. Dumb like a MOOSE!!!"

Heaven help us as we try to become educated.

-Josh

Differential Diagnosis... Or not

2006-09-23T19:44:00.000-07:00

"I've been hanging around this town for too long!" -Counting Crows, Hanginaround

So as I was doing dishes tonight, listening to a secular mix on my iPod, wearing my American Eagle jeans, it occured to me that all folks are really trying to escape what is usually called "reality," and put themselves back in that wonderful better thing that is usually called "the ideal." (Some of us crazy Christians would call it trying to get back to a sinless state, or to defeat the whole mess created by original sin.)

I've been reading and re-reading Dante's Comedy, so forgive me for reguretating what has been going through my head, but it's interesting stuff! Really!

The people in the inferno (Hell) are completely involved in their desires. These are the sinners, the theives, murderers, adulterers and traitors. They are punished each according to what they've done. They are, essentially, stuck with what they spent their life chasing after. The folks in purgatory are still in the process of getting to what they desired (and still desire.) The folks in Heaven has it and are content.

But back to the beginning of this bit of nonsense. It occured to me as I was washing the very pretty plates that my family eats off of and listening to some very well crafted music while wearing comfortable and good-looking clothes that Dante's way of explaining punishment and the eternal really makes quite a bit of sense. Even if we only take the Comedy as a commentary on the life of the everyman it works. How many people do you see who get involved in the good of just one thing? One person is obsessed with music, another with gaining money, another with the beauty of their own person or their spouse's. All our culture and economy is based on ecouraging and growing our own personal "ideal." Of comforting ourselves with what most appeals to us. But why do we need this comfort? Why are we so uncomfortable?

Why do we bury ourselves in pop-music and low art? Movies, magazines, store bought clothes and novellas? And TV... don't even get me started. That just gives it all away...

For example: This last week and a half I've been dealing with a minor health problem. A bit distressing in itself, but getting the proper treatment for the condition is almost as annoying as the thing itself. So what have I done to deal with this? Well, I've worked, I've read and I've talked about it with the ones I love. But at the end of the day, I watch House. Yes, to deal with my residual sadness at my present fallen state I numb myself with a sarcastic and medically complex TV show. Sound about right? Sure, it's not that bad in my case. I've talked to people about it, I've worked out the actual problem and taken care of the situation. I'm not ignoring anything, but I still use a TV show to just forget about it for awhile. I take an easy way out of the experience of living in my fallen state, because I just don't want to deal with it. So I don't.

So I did a bit of the secular thing. I dealt with what needed to be dealt with and then I ignored the rest. I'd like to think I did something a bit more emotionally and cognitively healthy than that sounds, but still, it's about right. I escaped the world around me by focusing on something else. Some small good. "But wait! Aren't we as Christians supposed to not have our focus in this world, but on a better one?" you might ask. "So wasn't that a good thing?"

No. The answer is no. We're not supposed to focus on "a good." We're supposed to focus on THE GOOD. As in God. And by focusing on God we're supposed to be able to deal with the present fallen world better than a non-Christian. You can't deal with the world properly if you aren't able to live in the world around you. It's a balancing act. You have to focus on God, and work in the world. Too often you find Christians who only get one part of that. They either only focus on looking for God, or they only focus on living in this cesspool. The same with non-Christians, except instead of looking for God they just look for more of their favourite flavour of good.

So, is this just our reaction to our fallen world? Is this what was meant when we find that we are to be in the world, but not of it? That our escape from the reality (or rather the non-reality) of sin should be the Divine? And only through focusing on God we reach that good that everyone is striving for, and thus understand what is really wrong with the fallen world and so come to a better understanding of how to live in it? Trippy...

Mad About You

2006-08-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

So lately I've been rather tired. And I'm not altogether sure why. I've found this to be a bit disconcerting. Usually when I'm tired I'm plagued with thoughts like "Next time I really need to go home after the third hour of Halo," or "Well, if you wait to the last minute to read a book for class you don't get to sleep... ever," or "That's it! Forget about fitness! I'll just eat asparagus and kumquats for the rest of my life and not worry about how I look, or feel, or smell and die young! But happy!" However this time I'm just left thinking "I'm tired. This sucks. Huh."

However, today I think I may have had an epiphany: I've been around a great many people for the last two weeks. A great many. I can't remember the last time I had a few hours to myself to just be quiet. I've been too busy helping folks and reading and moving things and working and being with my friends that I haven't seen and my girlfriend whom I'm so enamored with to take any time just for me to stop. These are all good things (some exceedingly more enjoyable than others, but all good) however if I don't stop in between to simply be silent, rest and be then I'm just going to fall to pieces. Interesting little pieces that somehow just don't fit right when you try and put them back together because they're missing something: sanity.

So in the light of this enlightenment I've taken the rest of today to be mostly alone. I've mown and trimmed the lawn. I've trimmed the trees. I've washed the dogs and myself(not at the same time or with the same soap.) I've used food to convince the dogs that I'm not evil for giving them baths. I've exercised and eaten dinner, read a bit and watched an hour of my favourite sitcom that is no longer running, (hence the title of this blog) and now I think I'm going to do a bit of laundering and then go to bed. But all of this I have done mostly in silence. What I really want to do is drive up to the mountains or to Morro Bay and sit and watch the sun set, then watch the stars come out and take a walk by the light of them in some bit of wilderness by myself, but I think I'll be able to make do with just maintaining silence. We'll see if it helps. Good night everybody!

-Josh

Behold the View!

2006-08-06T13:23:00.000-07:00

I have been on a wonderful vacation! I now have piles of things to catch up on, but there is no beating the wonderful time that I just had!

I love camping, and camping with wonderful people is even better than camping by oneself. I imagine that it certainly beats camping with people that one does not like!

I went with the family of my dear girlfriend to Shaver Lake and a splendid time was had! Except for contracting a bit of a stomach bug it was a whole and enjoyable experience. There were fire and games, sun and swimming, fishing and boats, hikes and plenty of time to read good books! The food seemed to be of the best sort, but since I was not well and did not eat nearly as much as I normally do I'm afraid I cannot comment on it correctly. It looked wonderful.

I could very easily go into a long description of far too many things that happened; but since most of you weren't there you probably wouldn't want to hear all about the times that were had, and are probably content with the brief descriptions that I gave above. So to keep things short I shall simply say this: it was wonderful.

Coming back into the city hurt. As the trees disappeared and the buildings got more and more uniform my heart sank. My only consolations are that I may still keep the company from time to time of the wonderful people I was with, and that I will someday return to the mountains. The worst part of vacation is the bit where it stops.

But here are pictures. Enjoy.

Post Photo Script: I can't believe that I failed to mention what a heart-rendingly beautiful, witty, caring and wonderfully intelligent and godly person my girlfriend is. It borders on great calamity that I should get to spend so much time with and around her, and then be forced back into the drudgery that is this distance, even if it is a mere matter of miles.

*here I heave a sigh and then slowly smile*

But it was wonderful.

-Josh

When one ought to be asleep... but isn't...

2006-07-14T22:40:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since my last post. This is not because of any particular event, but rather more the lack of one. (My life is not boring, rather, far from it! It is just fairly slow at the moment.)

The summer seems to be slipping by with that slow, billowing heat that blind you to the passage of time. I feel rather confuddled by it.

And frankly, I'm tired. I can't seem to go to bed until I'm tired. Actually worn out. And as I'm not doing much of anything consistently (oh, the joy that is summer!) this means that bedtime is naught.

But tonight I will sleep before the clock strikes twelve. I swam for the better part of three hours today. I am burnt to a cinder. A very red, throbbing cinder. And very tired.

My great achievement for the day was finding out that I can do flips off a diving board into a pool. Unfortunately the only way to perfect this is by doing it a lot. After I mastered the single flip, I decided that I wanted to go one better and do a double.

Using that same "keep on keeping on" strategy I discovered that I am only capable of doing one and a half flips. And that should one manage to enter the water while spinning at a great rate it tends to cause pain at the point of contact. One and a half revolutions being what they are, I now have a head-ache. And will, for the foreseeable future.

But it was still fun.

I really miss swimming.

G'night all.

-Joshua

YaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaY!

2006-06-24T11:48:00.000-07:00

I am happy!
And content!
And happy!
And content!
And happy!
And content!
Et cetera! Et cetera!

God is good!

A Marvelous Thing

2006-06-21T00:12:00.000-07:00

I found out an amazing and marvelous thing yesterday.

I was driving back home after escorting a lovely young lady back to her home, when I had a sudden hankering for really good rootbeer. As I was near a BevMo, I decided to indulge myself.

I grabbed a Boylan's, a Siox City Sasparilla, and as a passing thought, a small keg of Virgil's Rootbeer for my dear Phil.

As the lady at the checkout rang me up, she mentioned that BevMo sells actual kegs (full size mind!) of root beer. She couldn't remember just what sort, but seemed fairly sure it was Henry Wineheart.

Full sized kegs of rootbeer! Next semester at Biola here I come! What do y'all think? One on PUQ, and one in the commuter lounge? I think that ought to do fairly well. Maybe one in a Torrey session too...

Beauty? Pain? Growth? All of the above I believe...

2006-06-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

This is, in fact, a summary of my most prominent thoughts and feelings at the moment. So be warned, there's a bit of emotional spillage on the verbos road ahead.

My heart hurts. In many different ways. Here's why:
People that I can for very deeply are away and traveling in far off lands that I have only ever (though very often) dreamed of visiting. Amongst whom is one person who is very dear to my heart. Ah, Lord only knows what is really happening anywhere in anything, so all I can do is trust Him. Takes some effort at times though.

In addition to this, I have been visiting my old teachers at what was once my highschool and helping them and talking with them. What I've found is this: that the best people in public education are often ignored, or used without being consulted. The Lewis's Proffessor in is right in exclaming "What are they teaching them in school these days?" The students don't seem to be learning a blooming thing! And most of the teachers have more of a fear of the standardized tests than they hold for the well being of their students! It's a perposterous situation! Tomorrow I'm returning to class to have a "Socratic" discussion with an eleventh grade lit. class. I have enormous fears.

Also, there's work. I may be too smart for the common market. I'm seeing holes in this well oiled machine that I'm playing the cog for, and I'm afraid that "the man" is about to get his ear talked off. Pray for him. And me.

Add to that that I'm reading Vanauken. And understanding more of it then I thought possible. Seeing ideas of my heart written in someone else's hand, and then lived out! It's an amazing experience. School is out, but I refuse to stop learning.

Also, I'm beginning to see new meaning in the whole "when two or more are gathered in my name..." bit. I used to think it just meant some additional blessing on the prayers of a congregation. Now I'm seeing it more in the light of everyday life. At work, surrounded by non-Christians I'm smart, quick and fairly well educated. But when I'm with fellow Christians there's more. We come up with some of the most wonderful ideas. Thoughts that I'd never come up with on my own or with pagans just bloom about us. I love my brothers and sisters in Christ, and I love seeing God in other people's lives as well. Grand. Just grand.

Finally, I love my family. I love my sisters and brothers. My niece and my nephew. And my parents. Mom and Dad are such good parents. I'm working my rear off, just like they taught me to, and they care and help me in ways I just never would have thought of. They let me be with my friends to relax, and yet there is allways a place for me at the dinner table. When I need an adult to listen to me, or talk to me or with me they are there. So helpful, so loving, so kind and caring. They see what I need before I know there's a need, then tell me about it and suggest methods on how to fix it. They support me, but let me do what I need to on my own. Godly people, promoting growth and trimming the deadwood all in one motion. I love my family.

Good night all.

-Joshua

Purgatory

2006-05-24T02:52:00.000-07:00

According to Vanauken, Beauty hurts. I would have to agree that that wonderful feeling that scatters across my being when I see the glorious creation of my Lord is pain in it's most exquisite form.
But why does Beauty hurt?

I bought two books today, well, now yesterday. One is A Severe Mercy, the other is The Problem of Pain. I've read the latter. It took me the better part of a year, but I've read it. Now, halfway through the prior, I was firmly stuck in the midst of that question: why does the experience of Beauty hurt?

As I was sitting in my car, not five minutes ago, it occurred to me. Lewis talks about pain being one of the ways we know we exist. Beauty, (as a form, mind) is purely Good. As we, broken and sinful (therefore flawed, twisted, and not altogether whole) beings experience a reflection of something that is "sinless," we gain something of our being back from that experience. And the feeling, the experience of it, the pain, returns.

When your leg falls asleep it tingles and "hurts" while the circulation is restored. Duh.

I believe in Purgatory.

Sing Hey!

2006-05-22T15:12:00.000-07:00

Sing hey!
For the mug of tea at the close of May!
A loon is he that will not sing,
O water hot is a noble thing!

It is finished! It is done!
School has fled, now it's time for fun!
But first, to relax and enjoy the view!
To sit down with friends and drink a few!

For work makes thirst, and thirst makes dry,
but first make the deadline or your hide will fry.
But then to drink, and drink is good!
But burn you will, if gulp you should...

So sip you tea 'neath a cool shadey tree,
and while you sip, please, think of me!
I return to work, but pleased I be,
for on my return, I'll join you in tea.

Or Italian cream sodas... Mmmmmm...

"The Road goes ever on and on..."

2006-05-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

"I am finally being swept off my feet."

I thought I'd take a walk this afternoon. Turns out the walk took me.
*****

The crags and summits of natural existence our city parks are.
All the green and growth that our expansion has left us, nurtured by trickling sludge and stagnant puddles of muddied filth.

Just think of what might happen if snowmelt came rushing blue and white through the gullies!
Overflowing the cement troughs constructed to hold them back?
If new springs of fresh water joyously bubbled up clear and delicious in the murky ponds?

What would we do with living water?
Why don't we?

*****
"And whither then? I cannot tell."

Resting in Grace

2006-05-07T22:48:00.001-07:00

A statement here
(a question meant)
and an answer set at ease.

As parents laugh
(and I escape,)
with my Savior's soul well pleased.

Goodnight.

Gardening Stains are Red

2006-04-30T02:47:00.001-07:00

I am a nerd.

At the college that I go to, I am in the honors program. And no, they didn't make a mistake in letting me in. I belong there. I may not be as smart, or as studious or ingenuous as everyone else there, but I don't need to be in order to belong.

Within this nerdy bunch, I am in the Tolkien reading group. And I love it.

Yesterday, the freshman class of the honors program had a group building day. Tolkien is a solid group. We really don't have many problems with each other. Most of us were skeptical that we would get anything out of this day, but we came anyway because we like each other so much, and if you give us a time to hang out with each other we'll take it no matter what.

Most of the day was pointless. There were games, and they were fun. There was criticism, that wasn't. But then we were put in a room together and left alone after being told we could leave any time we wanted to. We stayed in that room for the better part of six hours.

I was confronted with many things in this time. All that we did in that room was constructive. No one got angry, in fact we spent most of the time telling each other what we really admired about each other, and lifting each other up in prayer and celebrating the unique group we have. But within this setting something inside of me came loose.

I imagine it's was a lot like having one of those places you can't scratch scratched by someone. It hurts, but it's good.

I finally reached a point where I was being real with God, and myself, at the same time. Pure truth. No pretense. Praise and mourning, crying and laughing, feeling and thinking at the same time. God unblocked something in my soul tonight. I sobbed. It took me a few bloody knuckles on a tree to get that started, but afterwards it was smooth sailing. I think that I've come to the realization that crying is a good thing. I used to despise it in myself, and refused to cry if I could ever help it, which I could. But if there's ever a time when crying is alright then it's in front of your Creator, Lord, Master and Redeemer. He did, before it all, do the same for me...

And if you're wondering about the title of this blog, it's named after an experience that my Grandfather had. My Grandmother has been visiting this week, and so my mind has been drifting to the stories and memories of my grandfather. Suddenly his conversion story has a lot more impact upon me. Bleeding so hard that his hands were cleaned...

Spring and Questing Collegiates

2006-04-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

A weekend gone and mid-week spent.
An honorary Spring-Break session
consumed by three, and additionally me,
in a happy introvert depression.
To think, and laugh, and think again,
to frolic joyously,
to dream awake, and wake to rest
and escape most marvelously
the joy of work, and thence to shirk
the drudge of city strife.
To rest in the fields of Him who wields
the true powers of this life.
And then to meet (a happy feat)
in the house of a fabulous friend,
and eat good food, and drink to the mood
as an eighteenth year does end.
And then? A commonwealth of blessed Health!
A gift from God above!
Meander here, peruse some there,
and marvel in His love!
Then sit ye down, and ponderously frown
in a mug of evening tea,
and then "goodbye!" and politely fly
from a place you'd rather not flee.
Then hold your course! With 200 horse,
consume that length of miles!
Keep up you head! This is not bed,
you all asleep and smiles!
But when at home, you mind may roam,
dream then of all the beauty.
In fact, demand that all mind stand
and take to this fine duty:
to remember the blest, and take the rest
our Lord gives to His fine people,
and pray, dear sir, He will confer
"worth far above jewels" 'neath steeple.

"To the woman in my life..."

2006-04-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

My mother is tired of my last post. She says she doesn't like poems she doesn't understand. I'm not sure I can classify my last post as a poem, and I don't even understand it, so I'm not sure what's up with all that... but I love my mother. So this is for you Mom!

PS. these are some random pictures from my photo album, just to make this random post a little more interesting. Sorry to all those out there who expect more profound things... it's just time for a little relaxing, you know?

Thoughts Provoked

2006-04-06T23:38:00.000-07:00

I see the world around me, and see you.
I look at the life I create for myself, and do not see.
I turn to the light, and am blinded by it.
I turn to the darkness, and see depravity.

Evil is not, and naught is evil.
Holes in the ground are not ground.
Light can be bent, reflected and captured.
Good just is, and shall continue.

From whither comes the passion of and for salvation?
From whence the saving grace of true will and willfulness?
Why don't all seek?
Won't all find?

A Beautiful Morning Part III

2006-03-31T23:30:00.000-08:00

After Nate had taken Sam out and played with him a bit, leaving Anne mercilessly to the questions of his parents, he returned to find that Jean had come to her rescue and they were now laughing together in the aisle. As he approached he got the feeling from the look on his sister's face that he was the subject being discussed.

"Well ladies, nice to see you getting along. Care to share in the joy?"
"Well, I'm sure that we're happy to share some joy with you, but I'm afraid the conversation is just between us ladies. Sorry Nate."
"Eh, such is life I guess. Can't say that I honestly thought you'd tell me Jean. Though I would like to know if you ever feel like telling me..."
"Right, right. Hope springs eternal..."
"And "hope is the certainty of bliss to come!"
"Speaking of hope, would you two like to come with Josh and I to the Arboretum for a picnic lunch?"
There was an overwhelmingly positive answer from both of them at this, so the plan was set.

*************************************

The arboretum was marvelous.

As Nate and Anne arrived they could see Samuel already busy running around the park entrance, pointing out flowers and birds, tugging at the hands of his parents as the delights of his Creator enthralled his mind.

As Nate helped Anne out of the car, he felt that tug on his soul to be nervous once more, and worry about what would happen. But instead of giving himself over to this depressing hopelessness he repeated an idea to himself that had been born out of many conversations with his father and brother-in-law.

"I am a child of God," he thought to himself. "An actor in His play. A bit of a comedy so far, but destined to be an amazingly inspiring drama. Still, just an actor. The plot is up to Him, I only ad-lib a few lines, and those only when He gives permission."

As they walked together up to the entrance to the arboretum to meet up with the young family, Nate turned to Anne and said "I just want to thank you for coming today Anne. I'm really glad that you're here, and that you're up for a picnic with my family."

"It's my pleasure Nate, really. Being at school has been good, and good for me, but I've really missed my family. Visiting with yours has been wonderfully refreshing. You really have a wonderful family, filled with good people."

As Nate was trying to ad-lib for Christ, Samuel ran up and pointed out to his uncle and new friend that there was a "coney" spying on them from beneath a bush! Nate, who knew that Josh's love of English Literature often came out in his daily speech, laughed aloud at his nephew's British vocabulary, while Anne was simply amused and politely surprised at it.

A comical chase soon entailed; the fearless and vertically challenged hunter hopelessly outrun by his intended game as his adoring entourage followed at a safe distance. The chase did serve to user them deep into the center of the arboretum, like a good curator, who draws guests into a museum and surrounds them with priceless works of art.

The arboretum was miraculously beautiful that afternoon. Spring was just in the midst of fulfilling the promise of the early green buds of late winter. Even the barest of branches nourished a few new leaves. Those plants that had started early were in full bloom, and the ducks swam happily in the ponds only to be disturbed by the occational "plopplop" of a turtle falling into the cool water. The warm sunlight and the fresh breeze seemed to have teamed up to lazily chase the cool shadows of the leaves back and forth across the clean clipped grass.

In this place of gentle beauty the five of them passed the hour with food, friendship and felicity. Soon Sam had worn himself out with play, and his parents were of a mind to get him home before he fell asleep. So with fond farewells they left Nate and Anne in this veritable garden in high spirits.

What could have been an awkward situation was by-passed by equal agreeance that such a fine afternoon should not be wasted indoors. So the two of them stayed and talked to their hearts content as the ducks chased themselves across the water.

Finally, as the sun reddened the clouds and cast amber rays through the branches overhead, Nate gave Anne his hand and helped the lady up. As they walked back through the arbors the scent of lemon blossoms played in the evening breeze.

Nate had never been in a more romantic situation in his life. All sorts of lovely feelings were sweeping out of his chest and up, trying to escape from his mouth. But he had never felt more at peace either.

As he thought more about the place in which he found himself, he realized that it was this that was evoking much of these powerful feelings in him. For a moment he considered letting them overwhelm him. He felt as though he could sing an impromptu ballad for the immensely intelligent, enjoyable and beautiful lady he found in Anne.

He could almost let himself go, and if he did, Heaven help this lady.

He was, after all, his father's son, a student of his mother's eloquence, and the loving brother of his first best-friend and older sister.

Self-doubt is for the weak, pride doubly so. Humility and full recognition and knowledge of one's gifts from God, complete with their inherent dangers, is wisdom. And Nate was nothing if not the heir of a God fearing man.

But the truth of the moment held him back from the swirl of his emotions. It was, in fact, due to Anne herself that he held the power of his feelings in check. Her countenance and internal poise that he had experienced throughout the afternoon had impressed upon him just how truly beautiful she was; a devote, young lady of high intelligence living a chaste life in the pursual of God.

So as Nate drove Anne back to her dorm, he held his tongue. Merely agreeing with Anne as she spoke of what a lovely time she had had.

He politely bade her "Good night," and saw her to the door with all the decency and friendliness he usually did, but kept his thoughts of the day to himself. Soon he was back in his car, driving back home.

As his emotional flood subsided, he was struck by the fact that even though he felt like this about her, she was not really the girl of his dreams. For all the wonders that God had created in her, he knew she was not the one he'd been praying for since his childhood.

And yet, for a moment, she had been. For a moment she was his first date, she was his last, and all the dates inbetween. She was his sister in Christ, his friend, and wife to be.

"Good Lord, she's a symbol!"

When he opened the door to the apartment he shared with three other guys from the college, one of his roommates hollered "So, what did you do today?"

Nate smiled slowly and shook his head.

"I took a walk with a woman."

Requests granted, unexpectedly...

2006-03-27T22:25:00.000-08:00

Alright, this is a little out of character for this blog, but I figure that the character of this blog can be whatever I want it to be, and tonight I deem it should be a little different.

Some background: I'm tired. I've been feeling rather exhausted lately, and I'm not altogether sure why.
Also, I've been trying anew, and succeeding anew, with some of the harder aspects of my walk with and toward God.

That said, tonight I was on my way to visit a friend from Berkeley who is down for springbreak at a local Starbucks. While driving I was talking to God, and I, in my exhausted state, just broke out and told Him just exactly what I felt about my life at the moment.

Much was said between us, but my bit ended with "I've been doing what you've asked me! I would like a bit of a reward! Some peace of mind, some sign that you like what I've been doing! I want to feel better about myself. Lord, I'd like for some girl to flirt with me tonight. Just some cute girl to smile at me without my initiating it. That's it."

And that was it. The end of the conversation. He said nothing in return, so I just drove and felt silly for asking for such a ridiculous and immature thing.

I arrived at Starbucks to find that all of my friends from highschool who had left for college were back in town, and waiting for me! It was great, we all caught up and exchanged stories and news, and talked of roadtrips and visiting while sipping hot drinks.

On my way back home I was stopped at a red light when some of the ladies from this group of friends pulled up next to me and signaled for me to roll down my window. So I did.

"Hey! You're hot!" they called.

I was flabbergasted.

The light turned green, we all laughed and I turned left while they went straight.

As I was pulling into my drive I was thinking about just how the night had ended up. I hadn't thought of my request after I saw that my friends were back. And then God pulled that right out of His hat.

I ask for one cute girl to smile at me, and He has three.

I feel so silly for relating this story, for asking for such a childish thing. Not impure, but not very adult. Yet He still delivered, and in the best of all possible ways;with people who, while attractive, are no temptation to me to become distracted from Him. God is good.

That's all I have to say. God is good.

"The Wind Blows Wherever it Pleases"

2006-03-12T11:07:00.000-08:00

The wind blows once more

and just as before

it scatters the leaves of my fate.

But this wind is breezey,

this wind, fair and easy,

this wind ends the winter of late.

waiting for the dawn

2006-03-03T23:08:00.000-08:00

What a fool I am to let the ideas of the past take over the thoughts of my innermost heart! Why do I sit and wonder at the might have beens? They are naught. They are without shape, without form, without substance. They are nothing in the real world that we live our lives of pain and love in.

I suffer because I feel so alone. I dont feel like I have love in my life. And so I think that I am not worth what I wish for, simply because I have not gotten it. I lose hope in myself, and why? Simply because I am told by this fool of a culture that I am only worth what I have, not who I am. Supposedly what you are will give you a thing. But that takes time in reality. And reality is not what the culture values, so instead it tells us that the now is all that matters. Buy now, sell now, achieve now, run now, eat now, relax now, do all that is pleasurable in the instant now. It never tells us to wait now. Though its last trick is the meanest: it tells us to die in shame now. And it never warns you. You only find that one out before it happens if you keep your eyes open. But like Rome of old, it kills us all.
Morbid? Hell. Yes.

For most.

So it tells me that what I want I should have now. I should have that loving relationship now. I should have that lovely wife now. I should have that satisfaction of sex and children now, if ever.

Its wrong.
But it's clever in its deceit.

Let it damn itself. I wait for God.

A Beautiful Morning Part II

2006-02-24T00:25:00.000-08:00

The beginning of the church service had been full of stress for Nate, who was continually glancing at Anne to see if she approved or disapproved of the liturgical church he attended. It had taken him almost the whole of the service to calm down enough to actually focus on the meaning of the words being said as the priest blessed the bread and wine. But by the time his pew was called up to the alter to partake of the communion he had brought his full attention back to the reality of what Christ had done for him, and just how grateful he truly was for it.

He took time as the final anthem was sung to reflect on what he had just experienced; on how it was the act of communion every week that served to center his spiritual life. When he walked into the church he was strung out, stressed and worrying about the world that surrounded him. But by the time he walked out of that small church a short time later he was once more a relaxed but determined man. It was such a peaceful thing, and the knowledge that he would have communion at the end of the week was often what got him through it. Christ=s love was always there, all he had to do was reach for it and he would be relieved. He would be alright, because a far greater power was in control no matter what...

He wondered what Anne thought about it...

Now as the acolytes put out the candles on the alter he recalled just where he was: standing in pew behind his parents, sister and brother-in-law with a stunningly beautiful young lady that they had only just met during the sharing of the peace.

As he turned to Anne to warn her of the oncoming family introductions Nate's father winked at him with a malicious and yet playful smile in his eyes as his mother began to "Properly introduce myself, I'm Nathan's mother. I don't think Nathan has ever introduced us..."

"I don't think I've ever had the opportunity before this... Mom, Dad, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Miss Anne Lewis. We're in the same discussion group at school. "

"Oh, you're Anne! Yes, I've heard Nathan mention you several times..."

Nate looked imploringly at his sister Jean. Her husband Josh responded to his fallen countenance by saying "Well, I thought it was a good save Nate. But you really did almost loose the introduction."

"Is it so bad to sit and think about the service for a few moments afterward?"

"No, but it's not very polite to not introduce your friends to your family. Especially when your family wants to meet your "friend" as much as we do..." Jean retorted.

"Hey!"

Nate was on the verge of reprimanding his sister further for being so forward in Anne's hearing when his nephew Samuel interrupted with demands to have his uncle play with him.

A Beautiful Morning... Part I

2006-02-15T21:07:00.000-08:00

As he sat in the car before leaving to pick her up from her dorm he felt rather flustered.

"It's just church!" he told his reflection. "Not a date, not a romance, nothing to be worried about. We're just friends and that's all there is to it. This morning is just about God and His bride. What's to be nervous about there?"

But he still took a few moments more to fix his hair and practice his good-morning smile just once more. Finally, he said goodbye to the young man in the rear-view mirror and started the engine, pulling out into the Sunday morning traffic and heading north.

A few minutes down the road he divided his attention between the stick-shift and his phone, dialing her dorm room number.

"Hello?" her alto came across the line with startling promptness.

Well practiced confidence nearly failed him and cost him his voice, but he came through soon enough with a cheery "Good morning! I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way..." A few pleasantness, a mile more and he had both hands on the wheel again, trying very hard to pay attention to the road.

Soon the dorms of the local Christian college came into view. He pulled up just as she came walking out the wide double doors. "Alright Nathan Hope, no staring now..." he whispered as he opened his door and stood.

While the breath caught in his chest, somehow he did manage to keep his jaw from dropping as his secret heart exulted in the marvelous work of his Creator. Growing up with an older sister whom he actually got along with still didn't protect him from Anne's beauty. If anything, it only made the feeling of awe more complete.

He knew how careful his sister had been with how she dressed. "I'm maximizing the beauty while minimizing the temptation," she'd once told him while preparing for a date with her future husband.

Anne was obviously a woman of the same mind. A country girl to the core, the blue jeans and handsome button-up shirt with small flowers on it perfecly accented her ivory skin and blue eyes, her auburn hair falling in still damp ringlets just past her shoulders.

"My you look pretty this fine morning Miss Lewis!" he ventured as he walked around the car toward her.

"Why thank you Mr. Hope," she replied as she smile and walked toward him. "You're looking rather handsome yourself."

"Good of you to say so Anne," he said as he turned to open the door for her. When he turned back around the smile in her eyes betrayed the determined set of her mouth.

"Do you think I can't open my own door Mr. Hope?" she asked with mock distrust.

"I'm certain you could my dear Miss Lewis," he replied as he took her hand to help her into the front seat. "But if you did it yourself you would steal from me the joy of helping you!" he returned with a flourishing bow.

At this she laughed delightedly and he gently shut the door, smiling to himself as he walked back to his side of the car.

"What a fine start to a beautiful day! Thank you Lord!" he thought as he sat down next to Anne. "Just please don't let me mess it up!"

The drive to church was pleasant, but fairly uneventful. The two of them talked of the places they passed and the people they knew, sharing a few jokes and just enjoying the morning.

Nate was more than a little surprised when he realized just how little he minded being stopped by the red lights, now that Anne was beside him...

Procrastination and tired eyes make for...

2006-02-14T10:02:00.000-08:00

a grumpy day.

Which is what I am trying to avoid! I want to be content, not grumpy! But the semester has just started, and already I feel like I've been reading for far too long! These books I have to read are great books. Very thought provoking and all that, and I'm certain that reading them is doing wonderful things for my soul. But Golly Gee Wiz! Why do I have to read them so fast?! Why so many so quickly so deeply so soon?

This feeling of frustration is why I'm here typing at this very moment. I have a book to read, but my eyes are tired, and from the lightness of my head I don't think my brain is at home right now, but leave a message and your name and number and it might get back to you later. Or not.

I know that I'm a student. And studying is my job, and I'll get wondrous things out of it and earn lots of respect and get a good job and a loving and respectable woman and good children and build character besides! But I just wanted to take a deep breath and say that in this moment, right now, I'm tired. And I think that's ok. Just so long as I don't stop simply because I'm tired. And I won't, because this is worth being tired about. I've been working hard. But I am tired.

Now back to our story...

Single white... male...um...

2006-01-30T22:53:00.000-08:00

Alright, so this isn't so much about the "white" part, more the "single."

I like being single. It's good for me, helps me grow in the Lord, and pay attention to the things that are actually important right now, like prayer and school and work. But being a guy, it's hard for me not to notice these wonderful ladies that God has put around me. So, in the tradition of journaling about the things God has put around you, I shall relay to y'all what has been going on in my head.

Girls are pretty. They're even prettier if you're looking in their eyes, and not at their bodies. I know that they look great all around, but if you look at who they are instead of what they are you can enjoy them and their beauty without feeling guilty, without being guilty or even risking it. And I like to think that the eyes are more closely linked with the soul. Call me hopeless, call me a romantic, but your eyes are what give away your intentions and deeper emotions, and those are without a doubt linked to your soul. So there.

So I've been looking at eyes, and talking to good godly women. I'm not falling in love, unless it's with the God who created such wonderful people. These ladies have their faults too. But at the moment I'm entranced with the marvelous gifts that God has given them. Amy's sense of humor and compassion, her love for dance and gracefulness. Morielle's sharp wit, and dutiful dedication to finding joy in the darndest places. Kayla's childlike faith, and wonderful kindness. These things entrance me.

My mother has suggested to me that I should make a list of the things that I find attractive in women (besides the obvious.) So for the last month or so that thought has be being brought to a slow boil in my head. This last week it's been brought to the front of my concsiousness, a full fleged meal. I like things that make a woman sweet, kind and loving. Well, that wasn't hard... (Yes Mom, I did listen to you... No Mom, I'm not gonna stop with those three... I'll keep my eyes and heart open...)

But one of the most important physical things that has made those others qualities so easy to find is the simple fact that these ladies have figured out how to dress themselves properly. I can spend time with them without fear of my eyes being drawn against my will to some part of their body below their neck. They dress well, they're fashonable and tastefully clad and all that. But they dress to draw attention to their faces, to their eyes, not their blouses and butts. It's like the difference between a mini skirt and an evening gown: one draws the attention to the body, the other draws the attention to the beauty. I find the latter far outmatches the former.

Anyway, that said, I hope you all thank God for the beauty He had gifted you with, both in yourself, and in the people and things He has placed around you. To God be the glory, now and forever. Amen

2006-01-17T13:15:00.000-08:00

Well, it's official: I'm going on a roadtrip.

I really like driving. And roadtrips rock. My Torrey group wants all of us who live in California to get together before school starts up again. The mid-point of where most of us live being San Luis Obispo, that's where we're going. Lucky for us, several of our members live there, so we'll be staying at their houses. Very generous of them I think.

But a road trip! I'm very excited.

I was going to try and make a detoure to visit some family/friends up in Tulare county, but then I realized that if I tried that I'd be doing about twelve hours of driving, at least four of them in the dark in areas I do not know. So... I'm gonna raincheck on that and see if I can't make a day trip up there next week. Maybe snag my sister to go along with me...

But a road trip! How wonderful! A time to just get out on the road and drive! Clear my head and just go... and lately my head has been very not-clear. Like that song says: "breaking up is hard to do" even when it's the right thing. It's just hard getting back into my head that I'm only responsible for me. All I have to worry about is keeping myself in order. I am one person connected with God, my family, and my friends and that's it. I am single. Not looking, just single. I know it's cliche, but that feels really strange to say. But a road trip can only help. Me and the road. My only concerns: me and the road. Simple, straightforward, no complications.

Just me, the road, and God.

And since the road tends not to talk to much, I think God and I will be taking care of the conversation.

That'll be good.

-Josh

the weather 'round here...

2006-01-04T23:15:00.000-08:00

We don't get much weather around here. Southern California doesn't have much but sunshine in the summer and a slightly less shiny version for winter. But the other day we had some wind. Blew several trees over, a power line or two as well.

And my girlfriend and I have broken up. I was the one to end it, she was the one to take it hard. I've decided that breaking up is, as the song says, "hard to do." But what is even worse is watching the after effects of it. Watching as the words you so kindly crafted to be the softest and kindest of letdowns break her reserve and flood her face with tears and your ears with the sounds of sobs.... just hurts. It's not hard, it's tramatic.

We broke up five days ago. And only now am I calm enough and together enough inside to write about this. It really hurt. And not just her.

I hated this breakup. I hated telling her no the next day when she brought me a plan to "fix" things. And I've hated hearing our mutual friends say that she is telling them that I didn't tell her why we broke up. I have told her. Several times. Several different ways. Our relationship had gotten too mature too fast. I'm not ready for the relationship we were in. I know that sounds like whimping out, but that's just true. Maybe it is whimping out from some perspectives, but if I'm not ready for it than it's my responsibility to let her know. So I did. I can't like her anymore. It would be wrong for us to go on, destructive to our growth as individuals. Not healthy. We were done.

And that hurt. It hurt when she didn't know it, it hurts now that she does. Strange, shouldn't it feel better at some point? Ah well...

But it does feel good to know that I've told the truth.

And I'm free to keep doing so...

The weather around here has been interesting lately... lots of wind, but a fair bit of rain too.

I dream of Spring.

-Josh

Me? A Vent.

2005-12-06T03:18:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what's up here. This is just a conglomeration of ideas and feelings at this point. It was brought on by my good friend talking about how he sometimes feels lonely in this huge campus. Maybe these are just the college blues. Maybe I'm reacting to getting too deep into a relationship with my girlfriend too soon. (Not that I'm in any moral danger) I just don't feel like I'm truly a part of anything. The closest I feel to belonging somewhere is at home, or rather thinking of being at home. My parents and sisters (who will probably read this) have told me in my studies to take advantage of them. We're family, we help each other out, ect. I know that that's true, I just feel like I don't deserve it. That for some reason I'm on probabtion of a kind with the family. That we all get to sit back and see if I make it. I think this is probably just a reaction to being the youngest child out on his own for the first time, but it really does make me feel lonely.

And being around my girlfriend does not help. She has her own family problems, real problems. Mine are just in my head. Hers are actual. And because of them it seems like she has a greater tendancy to cling to me. Doesn't that make me feel great, now I have to be strong for the both of us. Gak. I like her alot, but sometimes it's hard to be with her. I need to learn how to be whole by myself before I learn to be whole with another person. And I'm just not there yet. I wish I was, but I'm not.

Ok, this is more of vent than anything else.
Sufficient to say, I'm mad at myself for being so far from my family that loves me so much. I'm mad that I can't be some magical fix-all for my girlfriend. And I'm mad about a number of other things that I've done wrong achedemically too. And I'm sick. Ya, this is a vent. I think I'll re-title it now. Now thou shalt be : "Me? A Vent." Instead of just "Me?"

I want so badly to do better. This just sucks. But hey, that's life right? You have to do the work before you can have the gains. But then you get the gains! You just have to work first... hope you like your job... I look forward to the gains of being a strong and mature person, in a stong and mature relationship with my family, loved one (whoever it turns out to be), and friends.

I should add that hanging out with a few very speacial guys on my floor at odd hours of the night has been a wonderful thing for me in the last few weeks. Great guys who stay up to insane hours talking about wonderful things. Thinking clearly and being good men of God. A place to gain heartening inspiration. I love you FirstQuad Lounge!

God's child through grace,

-Josh

Well would you look at this...

2005-11-21T13:32:00.000-08:00

I have a blog.
How nice.
Hello People!

-Josh