Haiti Article for Church Newsletter

The week after we returned home for Haiti I was asked to write an article for the Church Newsletter.  This was to explain what we did and how our church helped and the future of our church with the Dasmas community.  I thought I would share that with my blog peeps.

“Surely the Presence of the Lord is in this Place.” This song stuck in my head as I boarded the plane to leave the tropical island of Haiti.  For weeks prior to our trip we had been bombarded by news releases, personal testimonies, and fears of our safety and health. Each one of these comments made our purpose and willingness to help all the more resolute.  Prayers poured in and support came from the most unlikely places.  We did make a difference.

 “I can feel His mighty power and His Grace.” We jumped from the back of the truck that took us over mountains, through rivers, and around a nation brimming with people.  We had arrived in Dasmas, our home for the next five days.  The people of the village greeted us to our home away from home; all wondering who were these “Blancs.”  Who were these people and what brought them to a place with no electricity and no running water?  What was their mission? Our job of showing God’s love and being the Hands and Feet began!

“I can hear the brush of Angel’s wings.” Up early every morning, the day’s work had begun.  Our jobs were set before us.  Rebuilding the roof, loving the kids, getting to know the adults, and even joining in a soccer game or two.  We became one with the community.  Regular faces greeted us each day and language was no barrier.  We were not outsiders, but regular members of the village family.  We knew them by name and they called us by name. 

“I can see glory on each face.”  I had been told the Haitians were a beautiful people; a people of strength despite all the hardships that came their way.  Truer words were never spoken.  When they smiled, their whole face lit with the joy of the moment.  Their eyes danced with the delight of the day. The children of the orphanage we visited surrounded us longing for a simple touch, an expression of love.  I’m sad to say there were not enough of us to go around even when we each had three or four children hugging/hanging on us at once, but we offered the love of Christ with all our hearts to everyone we met.  As we left, we experienced God’s glory in the faces of the little children. Reluctant to leave, but warmed by a reunion in our future.

“Surely the Presence of the Lord is in this Place.”  I long for the day when my church family can return to my family of Dasmas.  For the time when we can see the children run to us and return the pleasant smile of the preacher’s wife, who always guarded us.  I know Grace Community made a difference in the lives of the people, and I know there is so much more to give.  This is just the beginning of bringing the presence of the Lord to God’s Holy place, and I beam with pride and love to know you all had a hand it in.  Thank you, or as we say in Creole “Mési Anpil” for truly paving the way so our young adult mission team and our church could continue living as God’s great messengers in the world.

 

I got a text message from a buddy of mine this past weekend.  He went with us to Haiti, his first time out of the country.  His text said "It's kinda crazy, but I miss Haiti."  I assured him it was not crazy at all and in fact, I too missed Haiti.  It's just a place that can grab hold of you. 

Free Christmas!

This year marks the first of a new movement.  A new revolution in the Christmas spirit.  One in which we focus less on the consumerism of the holidays and more to the sustainability of the earth.  A season in which Christmas gifts are not purchased, but rather reclaimed from their deaths.  This is the genesis of "Free Christmas."

Think of it as Free Tibet meets Freecycle.  A movement to save money and to relieve the land fill of a few more permanent guest.  This year, the wife and I made a conscious effort to not buy gifts for people.  This doesn't mean we aren't giving them, but it only means the gifts we find come from the side of the road, a dumpster dive, or our own creativity, sometimes a combination of all three. 

There is no searching for the newest and brightest gadget or knick-knack to fill a quota.  It's all coming from what we find.  Now I know this is not something new to the world, but the label is new.  Free Christmas.  Next year I hope to have a logo and some more ideas on it.  I just got swept away in the lack of Christmas Holiday this year and time ran out.  Plus, we are still in the experimental stages.  We must see the reaction and ease of this new movement.  But, stay tuned in as next year we take Free Christmas from out house to our city, then to the region, then state, then the universe...or something like that.   After the new year I'll post up some more information, that way surprises aren't ruined.  Find your own Free Christmas thoughts and share them with me.

Haiti Pics

this is one of my favorites

earthquake damage

tent city, covered in dust

earthquake damage

Thanksgiving Week

Two weeks is a long time to not post.  Sorry, but it's been busy.  Mostly we have just been getting ready for our Trip to Haiti.  What, you didn't know I was going? Shame on you.  Let me tell you a little about the trip.

We left on November 19th, 2010.  We flew from Shreveport to Dallas to Miami to Port Au Prince.  We took a 4 and a half hour bus ride to our first night's lodgings- The Guest House in Les Cayes, Haiti.  We were greeted by Pumpkin Soup and Avocado.  But, not our host as he fell asleep and was unable to join us (probably a good thing).  The next morning, er, afternoon, we are on Haitian Time after all, we left to join our new family in Dasmas.

A brutal 1.5 hour ride exposed to the sun in the back of a truck with all our gear and tin for the new roof, we are in Dasmas.  For the next few days we lived in the church, ate in the church, and thrived in the community.  We gave to them and they gave to us.  But, the stories of me and Haiti could go long into the night.  I want to focus on one story, one boy who touched my heart...

His name was JLow.  He was young, I'm not sure how old to be exact, we never really exchanged any words.  It was hard to get him to talk.  He had a manor about him, he had large teeth spread in an overbite that made his chin almost disappear.  He guarded his face with his hands, either as a defense mechanism or as simply a nervous habit.  I met him when other kids his age were at school.  This could mean he wasn't one of the lucky ones able to attend the local school.  This could be because of no interest in education, but more than likely no money.  JLow was obviously a simple and loving child, smiling at the big white people that had come to his village.  But JLow's family was poor, even for Haitian standards.


We first met him at the well. Dasmas is considered fortunate becuase they have a deep water well, which means clean, free, and easily accesible water for the communities all around.  We met him at the well as he was sent to fetch water...for what we don't know, but water being the breath of life, we are assured this was one of many trips of his today.  He had two old antifreeze tubs.  They were worn with use, but perfectly acceptible to fill with water.  We walked to the well to fill our bucket and he eargly let us cut in line and he served us by pumping the water for our needs.  That's when we saw them.  His pants, blue jeans shorts ripped in the front below the crotch and all the way down the leg, ripped in the back at the belt loop, all the way down the leg.  He had no underwear, his hiney exposed to the world.  Where there should have been two leg holes, in place was three flaps of fabric, at the mercy of the wind.  Did this discourage him, no.  Did it make him hide his head in shame, no.  What it did do is call out to us for to be the hands and feet.


We guided him back to the church where our belongs were located.  He tentatively clutched a hand and started walking.  He ear to ear smile faded as three of us, three white people lead him to the back room of the church.  There we had to local translators to help us.  This, however, did not seem to relax JLow any.  For his once shining and smiling face was replaced with a down trodden and scared look.  His eyes no longer met ours, and his feet barely shuffled the floor.  Resistance was in each of his heart beats. 


We found for him a new shirt and a new pair of shorts.  The shirt too big and the shorts had to be cinched tight to fit.  But, he had clothes that covered and clothes that he could grow into.  Still with a sad and defeated face he left, his old clothes in his mouth, and a water bottle each hand.  Head down, he walked back home.  My thoughts of our good dead were over shadowed by the seemingly emotional harm we had inflicted upon this beautiful child.  The image of his face as he walked away, with his eyes missing the joy they once had, weighed my heart to the ground.  It was now my turn to turn and shuffle away in sadness.


I questioned our motives, our abilities, our insistence to meddle in places oft left alone.  I guarded my self from other attempts for fear of irrevocable damaging another child's or adult's persona.  And I bowed my head and continued to work.  JLow stuck in my mind that day.


Toward the end of the day, when both sets of schools had let out.  When the sun started to dip behind the banana trees bringing with it the days first respite from the heat, people started to emerge.  They came out, young and old, to watch what these new additions to the villiage were doing and how they were progessing.  This usually involved sitting around, talking, maybe a pick-up game of soccer.  All this in the field by the school.  Inevitabley a game of chase with the younger kids woulds start. It goes to show from sea to shining sea chase is still chase and kids are still kids.  As I was picking up the tools used earlier, something caught my eye.  It was JLow, in his old ragged shirt, that fit him, and in his new shorts that were still big, but covered everything.  He was playing with kids from the school.  Playing with his new friends.  They were playing chase and running around.  His smile had returned, and as he ran his heart out, trying to dodge and weave his was around, his pant fell.  His little, black booty was bare and exposed as he ran at top speed from his friends.  But, he was happy!  His face was back, his eyes danced, and his smile shown brighter that before.  He found the confidence of new clothes and we found the grateful heart of a child.  One of the adults retied the pants ensuring no more slips ups as he ran, and he was off again.  Nothing could stop him now. 

He was my favorite story of Haiti.  His story is why I travel to places like that.  His story is why I fight the odds of cholera, rebels, and a host of other dangers and worries.  His story is why my mother doesn't sleep at night.  Is it it worth it?  Every damn time!

Paradigm Shift

There's been a change in the method of seminars, meetings, and general cell phone etiquette.  I guess the first change is that we no longer have cell phones.  We are all proud owners of smart phones (except for those small number of holdouts-those for financial reasons and those not wanting to "conform" to the modern mass communication).  These hand-held computers which brings to our fingertips email, weather, games, text messages, and the every important argument ender with the ability to "google it" using the web browsing capability.  And there is even a phone, if you ever find it necessary to actually verbally communicate with another...although now, it's mostly automated responses at the other end of the line.  This complex, yet user friendly gadget has also changed the way meetings happen.

The beginning of all meetings usually start the same way.  The one delegated person stands before the crowd with list of housekeeping, schedules for the day, and always says "please make sure to silence your cell phones."  The underlying message being don't let that thing ring while I or anyone else is talking, and in fact, why don't you just put that away...I don't want to see it out." God forbid if you slip your phone, noiselessly, out of your pocket to check for any recent texts, emails, or even the time; cause when you do the oppressive eyes of disapproval burn holes in you as you avoid eye contact.  But so much has changed with these smart phones.

For example, today, I attended a seminar by Brian McLaren hosted by the Christian Leadership Center.  It was quite a good seminar with some great emerging ideas and mind boggling concepts.  But, the great paradigm shift I noticed was the use of the smart phone.  Through online media sites like Facebook and Twitter, these smart phones linked those in the seminar together and those who couldn't be there in the community of this religious leader's encouraging words.  A one point, an announcement was made on how to link all the tweets together under one search chain, thus allowing everyone to see what others were saying at the time they were saying them.  This was a great way of emphasising important comments spoken by the speaker.  Little bits of wisdom left like bread crumbs for those outside the doors to follow to a sense of movement and purpose in the emerging church.  Pretty cool use of the new ways.  The thread can be accessed at this Twitter Link.

I thought about this as I was at a table with five or so people who are from the era of black and white TVs, rotary phones, and homes with less than one computer. As I followed along with these tweets, that were definitely enhancing my seminar experience, I felt the self conscience of wondering if these folks thought I was not participating, but rather being off task.

That's when I realized a mostly generational shift in the way things are done.  I find the evolution to be quite interesting.  I am getting to that age when I have years of experience behind me and I can (and have, I hate to admit) been able to engage in conversations of life pre cell phone, pre internet.  But, I will do my best to stay on the cutting edge of what's happening.  I figure if my octogenarian granny (love you) can be a fore runner of technological advancement, shouldn't I at least give her a run for her money? So, I submit this as but one of many paradigms to change in the near future, I'll keep my eye out and let you know about the next one.

So, I've bitten the bullet, grabbed the bull by the horns, thrown caution to the wind, stepped up to the plate, and many many more cliches.  I don't know what possessed me, or what I'm trying to prove.  I do know that I am crazy and have to dig deep within myself to see this through to the end.  However, with prayer, dedication, and the right kind of postive reinforcement, I will succeed.  Yep, I will succeed.

So, on Halloween night, I asked myself "Trick or Treat."  Apparently I decided on Trick.  I signed up for the Mardi Gras Marathon.  That's 26.2 miles of running through the historic streets of New Orleans.  26.2 miles of second guessing myself, wincing through the pain, and breaking through the wall.  26.2 miles of sweat, blood, and tears, 26.2 miles long to prove to  myself I can overtake the obstacles of life.  I'm pretty excited about it...scared too, but excited.

I know my body will be ready, as the training has been going on for 4 weeks now, but the hardest part will be training my mind and settling in to a diet/nutrition routine.  Today was a 10 mile day, it was rough, but we finished with no problems.  So keep the prayers up for me (and Eliz who will be running the half marathon-13.1 miles) as this unfolds. 

A flash back to the 1980s, The Lite Brite, has made an appearance in The David Crowder Band's newest video, SMS Shine.  It's a tear jerker, so be warned.

I heard and interview with him today that said they used something like 700,000 of those little lights to make this stop motion video.  He recruited multiple members of his church to help with this project.  Imagine the amount of for thought and planning that went in to this video.  It's well worth watching at least twice.

The stress is pouring in.  It's starting to fill up and is taking my positive attitude with it.  I just found out a video project I am working on is due a week EARLIER than I had expected.  We were going to be pushing it close with the extra week, now, it will be some long nights ahead.  Too much juggling with peoples schedules. 

Also learned today I have the wonderful opportunity to cover someone Else's territory while they go on Vacation.  But, do they get to cover mine when I go on vacation, do they ever step foot in Louisiana?  That's a great big, resounding no.  And guess how much extra I am compensated for that....a whole lot of nada. 

That's OK (get ready for positive spin).  At least my stress will decrease and I can spread it out over a couple of weeks instead of having all come to head on one day.  Whooo Flipping Hooo.  Looks like that bike will not be done any time soon. 

I got work to do, I'm out.

Oops I pulled a Mike!

From what I have been told, and the little bit I have seen, my Uncle Mike has a propensity to take things apart.  Getting them back together again is a different story.  He usually succeeds in this endeavor...my track record is not as stellar.  But this never keeps me from trying.

Elizabeth and I have recently come in the possession of a tandem bike.  I 1970s Schwinn, Red Tandem Bike.  It is a pretty amazing little mode of transportation.  But, it has been sitting in someone's house for a long time, so it is full up on gunk, dirt, and what I can only hope is not cat feces.  So it needs a little work.  What am I to do? 

I took it completely apart.  Over  couple of days I broke it down into as many pieces as I could.  My plan is to fix it up, piece by piece.  That way eventually Eliz and I can be known as that cute couple riding around on the shiny red Schwinn.  Ultimately we plan on throwing a Seersucker Social (idea total ripped off of a D.C. group) here in town.  Tell me how cute would we be in seersucker and on a tandem. 

The problem comes in the pieces.  I hope I have the ability to put it back together again.  Uncle Mike almost always could, so if I mess it up, he's the one I'm calling to fix it up.  Shh, don't tell him, I want to keep it a surprise. 

This bad boy bike has front and rear chrome fenders a sweet chain guard, and original two-toned fake leather seats.  It weighs about 45 pounds and is a beast, but will be fun to put together. 

Also, for an idea of the Seersucker Social we are going to attempt to recreate, check out this video.


The Seersucker Social from ReadysetDC on Vimeo.

There is no honor there. None to be seen or won.  None to be earned or bartered, none at all.  I look to you not as the victor, but with pity as one who is missing the essence of self.  You may prance around with a smile on your face and a flare in you eye, but the truth of the matter is you are hollow.  You scratch the surface of a man with no honor and see the real vestibules of fear and insecurity.  And for that, you sir, are nothing to me. 

Where is the integrity? Where is the trust?  Why do we live in fear of another man? Though I've never lived the times of white picket fences, unlocked doors, and pies cooling on the window, I lament the loss of this era.  Replaced now by pit bulls, bars on windows, and refusals to share, even a buck.  I myself am both guilty and convicted.  I look at myself and wonder where has the integrity gone.  What are my expectations and intentions or better yet my responsibilities?


(my notes:  first paragraph was in reference to a soccer game I played tonight.  I came away with a bum knee, a loss of respect, two goals, and a huge loss for the records-about par for the course with this place.  The second paragraph is what I affectionately call verbal expulsion...I know not why or how)

Reach Deep, find that Man Card

So I walked into the bathroom today at Michael's Arts and Crafts store.  I was picking up a framed thingy I had done about two months ago (needless to say, I was WAY over due picking it up and I'm surprised they hadn't sold it to the lowest bidder).  My first thoughts as I entered the bathroom were "man, this is a nice bathroom, clean, bright, and smells nice."  All three of these traits I admittedly desire in my choice for the "Not Your Own" toilet.  As I was standing there letting my mind wander and generally getting a good calm about myself it hits me, BAM, the bathroom is so nice cause I doubt it gets many visitors.   After all, how many dudes do you actually see in Michael's?  And the ones you do see are usually painstakingly following some over energetic member of the opposite sex, all the while sporting a face that says...Is this relationship really worth being subjected to this arts and craft hell, or worse, Dear God, please let her find what she wants here so we don't have to go to Hobby Lobby.  Either way, it's never a joyous occasion in a man's day when he steps through those automatic doors, definitely not something brought up later with guys over beer and darts.  Moral of the story, if you are driving around when nature calls, and have a strong stomach for fake flowers and old lady perfume, Michael's is top notch water closet.

Also, I, for reasons I can't seem to remember now, was going through my text messages yesterday.  The use of emoticons caught my eye.  Emoticons are those smiley face or frowning, criey, whining whatever faces used to insinuate emotion.  I was fortunate to see the only ones used in my contacts were by woman.  Which brings me to my most important thought of the week.  GUYS DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, USE EMOTICONS.  Stand up for your masculinity.  If you read this, and you are an avid injector of the as of now "unmentionables," you are presented a crossroads.  You can continue their use, but be ready to turn in your man card, or you can turn over a new leaf of ambiguous emotional standings.  Come on, you're a dude, a bro, a homie, you don't even know what your emotions are, how are you suppose to convey these to others with syntax.  Stand up for stereotypes and be emotionless in your non-verbal discussions, not like you are expected to be William Freaking Shakespeare.  This is all.

Revel Art time

Every October, there is a festival that comes to Shreveport.  It is the Red River Revel.  It is one of, in not, the best festivals that Shreveport facilitates.  They bring in music from all over, big names and some great local acts too.  This year the headliners were the Band Perry, Steel Magnolias, and Sister Hazel.  Now I'm not saying big as in Dave Matthews or anything, but not bad for an outdoor show with a $10 ticket.

But more than just the musical entertainment, they have food booths with some quite tasty fare.  You have you choice of the standard sausuage on a stick, meat pies, and funnel cakes.  Then you have my favorites.  Muffaleta pizza, crab cakes over shrimp and eggplant jambalaya with a cream sauce, and dipped cheese cake on a stick.  Thrown in roasted corn and you almost have a balanced meal.

Both the music and the food is reason enough to go to the revel.  However, Eliz and I really like to go for the art booths.  There have been artist from as far off as the Jewerly Makers of Whitefish, MT to the painters of Downtown Shreveport.  This year there is a large local presence, but they have brought in some goodies from Utah, Texas, and other far reaching places.

Last year Eliz and I purchased a couple pieces of art.  Our first piece was a painting of poppies in trees.  Eliz actually had the artist paint this one specifically for her.  She loved the painting but wanted red flowers instead of blue ones, which the original had.  So we gave the artist, Monica Fallini, MF Fine Art a sum of money in return for a promise she would mail it to us when it was done.  It took a few months, but it finally showed up on our door step and we have been quite happy with it.

The other piece we purchased was from a very popular artist in this regions.  Her name is Candice Alexander.  She is known for her interpretations of Flur-de-Lis.  She has one for all types of professions and situations.  Personally I think the Flur-De-Lis is EVERYWHERE and the novelty has worn off for me.  Eliz found a wonder print of a tree, actually two trees intertwined, that she really, really liked.  So we got this one too. When we told her we wanted it, she informed us she needed it for a show and couldn't let us have it just yet.  But, she said she would mail it it us.  So we paid her too, and ended up leaving the Revel with a lot less cash and nothing to show for it.  Fortunately, everyone was true to their word and we recieved our art like little presents, just went the newness of buying had worn off.  So we were able to get excited all over again.

This years Revel, although a little smaller, was good too.  We spent last night getting a piece of Pizza, Corn, and cold Abita and browsing the booths.  The jewelry was interesting, I guess, but Eliz said the greatest thing..."I have enough jewelry for now."  So that was wonder!  We looked at the art booths and nothing really spoke to us again this year, except for one.  Monica Fallini was back with some great new pieces.  She even branched out to mix media on some of her artwork.  What Eliz and I really like about her is the Texture of the poppies and the colors she uses.  We looked at her booth, thought for a while, then walked away.  We walked the rest of the booths and found ourselves pulled back to her booth.  This time with consideration of places, we walked away with two new paintings!  I guess we are not official collectors of Monica Fallini, not that I have any problem with that.  Here are the newest Paintings.

For the Kitchen

In the Living Room

But, in God's fun way of keeping things even, we found out yesterday we have  gas leak in our pipes.  The City Man came out, took good look, and found a leak in a pipe that is pushing 80 years old.  The joys of owning an old house.  So, he took our meter, which means no hot-water or heat ( thank goodness it's still a Louisiana Fall) and told us to call a plumber.  The plumber charges a $350 fee just to come out and test the line, not to mention the labor or parts needed for the repair.  And in true plumber fashion, he's late. This reminds me of a show theme song..."You take the good, you take the bad and then you have The Facts of Life, The Facts of Life..."  A positive attitude is easier typed than believed. 

"Toasted Skin Syndrome"

Are you kidding me? Has our world and existence become so sedentary that we now have a condition that is brought about by extended exposure to your laptop. Really, parents, kids, friends, rise up and fight the evil mechanical empire that takes away your life. Read a book, ride a bike, take a hike or a stroll, but don't develop "toasted skin syndrome." I just don't get it.


I'm not advocating a complete purging of your technology, far from it. I love my iphone, my mac, my ease and comfort afforded to me by these and other computer based and processed machines. Don't even try and take away my ipod from me, lest you loose your fingers, but really, there is a limit.

I was reading in the The Shreveport Times, online mind you, about This Article and I about fell out of my chair with aggravation.

I just can't see how the situation can get to the point it would cause permanent skin damage and even cancer. Guess this is another instance how our "freedoms" allow us to do negative things to our body, like McDonald's food or Jerry Springer. Parents, Grandparents, concerned friends, it is your duty to kick those booties out of the chair, off the couch and into the world at-large. Do something about it.

The Ghost Buck's Lament

A slight rustle of the brittle, fall leaves that carpet the earth, the bite of cool as the wind noisily whips through the trees around bushes and through fields, each breath materializing in a rhythmic fashion of natural peace. Rise and fall, rise and fall, a scent attaches itself to the newest gust off the pond.  A sudden realization of not being alone, but friend or foe is unknown.  The next movement is of utmost importance.  Flight? A quick run to freedom and safety with nothing but a white flash to signal the escape.  Fight?  head bowed, eyes peeled and ready to embrace the future in an animalistic urge to defend the ground gained.  Decision time.   

Will the rancher win the war...or will the Ghost Buck prevail?  What about the ponds, the ducks, the dogs, the fires.  What about the grandchildren, the brothers, the sisters, the mothers. What part do they play in the saga of the Ghost Buck Ranch? The Mule, the great white truck, what about that Straw Cowboy Hat that rest comfortably on the table by the door.  The hat that longs to fulfill it's purpose of both sun protection and style.  A functional statement that describes who you are and why you are here.  How about the peace of the sunset and the anticipation of the sunrise.  We may never know.

A request, neigh, a plea, where has the The Ghost Buck Ranch Journal disappeared to?  Am I the only one who laments in it's absence?  I daresay "No." But what shall be done; what shall be done?

Inedible Egg

Saw this today and thought it was neat and worth passing on.  I found it at The Prana Blog.  This is only one of many videos like this.

I don't know about you, but I need constant reminders of where my food comes from.  I seem to slip into a sense of complacency as I am tucking into my Chicken Tikka Masala.  Not wanting to care where it came from or what bad is in there ( and there is plenty, I'm sure).  So next time you find yourself about to eat a hamburger than can have up to 500 cows in that one patty, think, and refrain.  I'm not saying don't eat meat, but be choosy of where it is from. It could save your life one day.

There is no escape.  No turning back, no ability to cease, and none to be saved. When it's not a part of you, feelings of despair, fear, and chaos pulse through your body like electricity pumping through your veins, delivery momentary jumps of icy pain.  Your mind is consumed with nothing but finding it, getting the fix, riding the pleasure it brings.  You neglect family, some who just don't understand.  Quality of work diminishes as you care not what you produce, but only that you spend enough time there so as not to raise any suspicion of your true want and desire.  I find myself neglecting duties around the home, dishes pile up like mountains in my sink, clothes litter the floor as if rooted in their spot. 

It affects who I am too.  My emotions run wild; anxiety, a deep sadness, uncontrollable laughter, all these are but momentary hints on my mind and lips, hints that come and go as quickly as the passing winds.  Pushing everything aside, I dig deeper, go harder, refusing to see the reality and let anything outside my realm of reality penetrate until it's over.  With it finality, peace, a lifting of a cloud that shows the world outside waiting to be lived and loved.  But, this feeling is but temporary as yet another longing and urge stirs in my mind as turn over the past relationship gained.  I know there will be another time when I am consumed beyond help, a fortress of my mind with nothing able to lay siege and wrought me away. 

This is what reading does to me...especially Harry Potter books.  This explains why I have been AWOL on the blog this past week, book 7 needed a good reread.  I would think to myself, "I need to blog something."  But, I was always distracted.  This was meant to mostly be a joke of mine, mostly.  I do find myself consumed and 800 pages books get devoured in a week.  However, it's not all of them, just the good ones...and the Harry Potter Series is the catalyst for the feelings. Yeah, I'm a great, big ole dork.  Nice to Meet You.

Acting your Age

I've reached an awkward age in life.  At some point, reality sinks in, you look around you, and realize, "Hmmm, I'm no longer the youngest person here." This happens at work, church, and specifically on nights out on the town.  I wish I could say when I was younger I tore the town up, burning the nights away, staying up and partying like I was a rock star...actually, I'm glad I can't say that.  Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of nights that ended, or briefly paused, with a Sunrise, but it was not the norm for me.  Call me boring, call me an old soul, just don't call after ten anymore (man that's a lame joke), but I'm keeping it.

Last night, however, I realized the interesting position I am in.  No longer am I relegated to the bottom of the age group, but I'm also not at the top.  With youth comes the excuse and inexperience that gets you into trouble and out of trouble, both of these for the noviceness of your life position.  With age comes wisdom enough to keep you out of the aforementioned trouble, hopefully.  But, me, in the middle, the median, this puts me in the position to work the young and the old. 

Last night Elizabeth and I went to a Citizen Cope concert.  Not a bad concert, but nothing to blog about (ha, this is irony).  We took our newly acquired place in the crowd, not the very front, but not the very back either, it corresponds with age.  We managed to find a nice elevated place with a concrete pillar behind us, the concert was under a bridge but not as sketchy as that seems.  We had a perfect view of the stage, a perfect, not too loud, completely unobstructed, comfortable view.  But, with anything there was one flaw, namely the four feet of empty, elevated space in front of us.  This area was just begging for someone to stand there.  Well, I had to get defensive a couple of times, and this is where my age came in to play.  First, an older lady, in her mid to late 40s, stood up in front of us, knocking out our line of sight with Mr. Cope. You just can't react with anger to an elder...my momma taught me that, but you can pout, my sister taught me that.  She stood up and turned to look at me.  Immediately I slumped my shoulders, poked out my bottom lip, and gave her the most defeated look I could muster.  Success! She quickly stepped down and the view was clear again. 

About ten minutes later, these two young ladies, no more than 22 years, came and decided it was their turn to play with the big boys.  They agilely hopped up to the space in front of me.  Well, the pouty face just wasn't going to cut it with this one. So instead I threw daggers.  No, not literal daggers, but figurative ones shooting from my eyes.  I stared them down with a look of "You can't be seriously considering standing in MY way.  You don't have the audacity to follow this one through."  Success, again!  Sheepishly and I'm hoping a bit scared, they retreated to safe, dagger-free position.  We were able to enjoy the rest of the concert with no problems or challenges. 

An interesting age and time the tumbling into "midlife." At times I find myself resisting with my entire being, but sneaking around the corner is the peace that comes with acceptance.  I guess the secret is to find your niche in each station of your life.  Allow where you've been to guide where you go without the fear of loosing yourself to obsolescence.  Never being afraid to recreate who you are with the pieces of what you learn, where you've come, and the Who you want to be.

A weekend with Angells

This weekend Eliz and I were lucky enough to spend yet another weekend away from home.  I think our bed misses us more than anyone else.  I know we are starting to miss it mucho.  This weekend we went down and saw our newest and cutest niece.  Ms. AnnaLynn Mae Angell! 

She was adorable, but mostly she was understanding.  She knew her uncle, who was sleeping in the room right next to her, was worried that he would get no sleep because she would cry all night...as has happened in the past with other siblings offspring.  Since she is so considerate, she decided to sleep from 10:30pm to 4:30am, her best night sleep yet!  Thanks you dear, sweet Annalynn. 

She is a wonderfully sweet and delicate flower and she will be a much loved and welcomed part of the family...now for pictures.

Hello Annalynn, glad to finally meet you!

Daddy and Annalynn "flying"

Just getting back from running, me not the baby, the face is because I smell

Momma and Annalynn

Pico, Baby, and Me

Unplug Yourself

I was sent a web link today from a buddy of mine.   It advertised "Show the world your real face...should you give up gadgets for a day." Wired Article. The premises behind it, obviously, giving up the newest and brightest technology we are sure adds nothing but ease to our days.  These things being phones, computers, email, etc.  For one day, not much of a challenge.  Almost anyone could suffer one day without the conveniences of modernity.

I think the real indictment here is that we believe, or we have been so conditioned to believe, our world can't exist without these capitalistic necessities.  I recognize the irony of me sharing this with you on my Internet equipped computer and my tethering smart phone which automatically pushes updates to me for several applications so that I may be on the very cutting edge of the "global know."  But, I can earnestly say, I relish in the opportunity to get away, to disconnect from it all, to unplug myself from contact.  Not forever, just for stretches of time...

Yesterday I marched into Comcast with my DVR enable HD Cable Box and turned it in.  No more cable for us.   It's not cause we couldn't afford it, or didn't enjoy it, cause we did both.  No, it's because we find the cable to be a time suck!  We found ourselves sitting down for a quick show while we ate or to rest for a minute, and next thing we knew the night was over...and it's not like you sleep better after an evening of television.  So adios primetime, we are flying solo, I am looking forward to reading more, walking more, and blogging more.


Make sure you check out the NY Times article link on the Website above, interesting.

Readjustment and Processing

It's been a bit difficult readjusting to "American" life.  This is so for a couple of reasons.  One: Jet lag has been quite a pain in the butt.  It has caused me to wake up between 4:00 and 4:30 at least three times since we've been home.  Sunday, actually, I woke up, still dark outside, and I had no idea where I was.  The house was dark and I was staring into the abyss trying to have my mind catch up with my current place of being.  For a good, few seconds I was totally lost, not scared, but just in wonder of where I had gotten myself.  I could swear I was staring at very tall columns to an uninviting, 16th century building.  But, alas, it was just the bedroom wall.

Secondly:  I'm told to either form or break a habit, repetition is key.  I believe it is something in the nature of 21 days or 26 days of repetitive action is all that is needed to form a habit.  Well, being in Europe for 22 days has resulted in, both Eliz and I, forming some habits.  Mostly with our personal belongings this comes to play.  For example, when we traveled, every time we neared a crowed at a museum, or metro station, or on the street, or whatever, my hand would immediately go into my front right pocket (which I had moved my wallet to in order to protect it and not wear a goofy money belt).  By doing this, I had no problem ever in any part of Europe.  Eliz would do the same with her purse.  But, this is something we carried over back to the states.  We hadn't noticed it until we were walking into Sam's this past weekend.  We hit the front door to be held up in a group of people.  My hand, darted to my front pocket only to realize, my wallet was no longer there and the likeliness of getting pick pocketed in Shreveport's Sam's was slim at best.  Crazy paranoia we need to get over.

The last is just not being on vacation, the real world, our real lives, although thankful and wonderful as they are, it's just not vacation.  So, with our chins pointing up, a smile on our face, a good positive attitude, and trepidation and sadness on our hearts, we went back to work today. Sad as our vacation was officially over, trepidation at reestablishing the skin of the worker bee we had so successfully shrugged off over the past three weeks.  But don't worry...we've already begun plans for our next great adventure!


Here are some videos from our travels:
The First one is from a soccer game in Berlin, the second is from a prayer night in Taize, the Third is from the catacombs, the fourth is a group we found in the metro station, just trying to earn a buck a guess.

The Palace of Versailles

Today we left the city of love for a brief hiatus in Versailles.  We had the opportunity to see how the monarchies of the 17 Centuries lived.  If only I could live in the lap of luxury for a fraction of the time they did.  The palace was marvelous with exquisite paintings, carvings, and shiny gold paint everywhere.  The Gardens, once the hunting grounds of Louis VII, now a virtual tourist mecca.  Beautiful grounds, made more so by a wonderfully beautiful French weather.  We had a good time there, but being so far out, pretty much took the whole day. 

Tomorrow we catch the metro, early, for the airport.  Our flight leaves France at 1:40pm, but we get to Atlanta at 5:35pm.  If only it was a four hour flight, if only...

We are sad to leave and redevelop our "old lives."  We've had so much fun, done so many things, and experienced a lifestyle both better and worse than what we are accustom to.  Given the chance, I feel sure we could easily shift our ways to a European style.  But, we are still young, and the chance may still yet present itself to us.  Cest Bon!

The golden gates to the Palace of Versailles!

one of many amazing gardens at Versailles

Proof we were at the gardens of Versailles

we rented a tandem bike, so much fun, I think we will buy one for home

These folks were playing for coins in the metro, quite brilliant