Pray early and often, but especially pray early. That early time with God really sets a pace for the day. This isn't some 'do it cause you'll feel good' trip, though. We are called to commune with God, and I just find starting that early is conducive to continuing that communion throughout the day.

Selah.

Day 1

I most always wake up late. Actually, I'm not always late and I wasn't today, so let's say I most always wake up inconvenienced, and today my inconvenience arrived at 8:30am. Sunday school is closing fast and I haven't packed for my 6 day trip to Omaha, Nebraska, for which I'm due to leave in 3 hours.

My impression of Nebraska has been and is a flat, corn-colored void with occasional earth-dents they call 'cities'. Nebraska is that place next to Iowa, which is that place next to Illinois, home of Chicago. Despite my impression, I'm glad to escape Texas for a week. I love my home - I just bought a house there. I guess there's a comfort being in a place where I'm an unknown. No one has ever seen me before, nor will they see me again for some time, if ever. Is that an abatement of some responsibility? Am I drinking escapism? I think maybe I am, just a little. Why else would I look forward to a week in Nebraska?

.........

It's Sunday night, my first in Omaha. After I landed, I took a long walk through downtown, which to my surprise is actually pretty extensive. Several new developments and improvements make you think you're in a much larger city. There is a distinct culture to Omaha, and I caught it before I ever met a single person. In fact, you could say I caught it before I saw a single person. I took a long evening walk through a very large and well-developed downtown district, and for much of it I was the only pedestrian in sight. And really, I do mean the only one. Most of my walk I was completely alone in this big commerce centre. I actually loved it. I've never seen anything like that, and I doubt I ever will again.

Silence is powerful - it draws out all that words cover in misdescription and noise, and speaks directly to the soul. Silence speaks with confidence and maintains humility, and in my experience that is one powerful, powerful combination. Maybe I need to practice silence some more, cause most times I feel lacking in both of those areas. Cause right now I'm a guy trying to find his feet in life; learning how to swim and walk and ride a bike all over again. I am trying to find my feet as a man, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do once I find them. I just know right now I'm trying to keep my ears open - trying to keep perspective on my life and God's role in it - and trying to hear him in the silence I've now found as I keep walking on, looking for my feet, in Omaha.

Sometimes when I need a good laugh, I'll flip on the cheapo televangelist channel. I am and will forever be amazed that anyone takes that stuff seriously.

So this lady is on there doing a roundtable discussion that turns into storytime on how God answers prayers. She went into this long discourse on how the pressures of life have a way of dragging us to a near standstill spiritually. She talked about how easy it is for us to forget God in those moments, and how when we remember to seek Him, He turns our struggles into joy and He is with us; guiding us and showing us His love.

Almost gets you thinking about your own life. It did with me - until she opened her mouth back up and "He turns our struggles into joy and is with us; guiding us and showing us His love -- like when you're getting ready for a party, and have so many things to do you feel just overwhelmed. So I stopped right there, got on my knees, and prayed that God would take control of the situation and lift me up with His power. Not only did I get everything done, but had 30 minutes left to rest!"

You know, I almost thought she'd apply the idea with something meaningful, but I obviously forgot which channel I was watching. The best part was all the other ladies' affirming nods - you know, that sincere, eyes closed, 'I can feel the spirit in this room' kind of nod - you know the one. I guess the real sad part is a lot of folks see that and say 'that's what the whole Christian-thing is all about'.

Breaking from that for a moment, I had a prayer request of my own the other night.

By the way, is it wierd for a 24 year old to refer to anyone as his best friend? Is that kinda kiddish? I was thinking about that a lot, but what I figure is I might as well. I'm not closer to anyone else outside my family, and I'm not gonna act like I don't pick favorites, cause I certainly do in most areas of my life.

So we'll call him my best friend, and his name is Kurt. He's preparing to spend his life on the other side of the world in service to Christ. In the 5 years I've known him, we've shared a lot of good times together through conversations, camping, being investigated by border patrol, you know, all the quality moments in life that bring people together. For the last few weeks he's been traveling from the deep south back to Portland where he lives, visiting friends and relatives with his girlfriend Sarah. A few nights ago, they stayed with me for their one night in Fort Worth. They were late getting in, and by the time we had dinner and got back to the casa, it was about 10:30 with my 5:30am wake-up call staring me in the face. We talked for awhile, had some good tea (I love tea), and called it a night. As I was drifting off, I prayed that God would let me stay home for awhile that next morning without lying to my boss.

A few seconds of conciousness later and I was up and on my way, having totally forgotten what I prayed the night before. I get in my car, start turning it out of the drive, and noticed it wasn't moving where I was telling it to move. After decorating the moment with an expletive, I did what any man would and should do, and just gave it more gas. A few seconds later I was enlightened. I couldn't drive straight because my tire was completely flat. I immediately remembered my prayer, and with a widening grin of excitement and humiliation, I thanked God for answering my prayer and apologized for cursing. I felt very biblical - being so holy and unholy in near the same moment. Made me feel like David, and he was a king.

Kurt woke up a few hours later and we got to work on the car for a while and talk about the deeper points we'd missed the night before. He is the best friend I've got, one of the few people who need just ask and I'd be on the next plane to wherever he is.

I sincerely wanted to find some big spiritual lesson or illumination that came from the extra 3 hours I got to spend with Kurt this week, but if there is one, I'm not conciously aware of it. Maybe my big point is one of encouragement - don't be afraid or ashamed to ask God for things that seem silly or rather simple in the 'big picture' of life. I believe in a God who laughs and dances, and who loves children and fairy tales. I think He has a soft spot in His heart for simple people praying simply. Don't be afraid to offer up your questions for God. You're never too smart or mature to not ask God most anything. But if He happens to give you a pleasant answer to a simple request, like flattening your tire, please, please, please, use those moments not as a point of fixation, but a reminder of all the different ways God is so very good, and how those moments are meant to encourage us to pursue Him all the more.

OK, so that last idea was a bust. I admit it, and now I'm moving on.

I don't have much to say, so instead of trying to pull something out of my butt, I'm gonna do something I don't often do with something I do quite often.

Huh?

The 'something I do quite often' is write poetry. The 'something I don't often do' is share it with anyone else, so consider this a little peephole into Nathan's squirmy paranoia-infested inner thoughts. It's probably theraputic to me in some way.

Oh, and most of my poems are about love. Hope you don't mind.


Without Reason

I love thee without reason
like a candle to a flame
where others find division
to each other we're the same
My love is earned by nothing
No conditions to display
I love thee without reason
I love thee enough to say

I don't love you for your smile
though it illuminates my day
heavenlies ne'er knew such warmth
they resignedly fade away
You dance just like an angel
up upon your throne
I'll live to love you, lift you, darling
as you dance your way back home

I don't love you for your voice
that harp-led angels song
at yours the angels voices stilled
like them I am undone
Your eyes are like a waterfall
pouring endless supply
of strength that heals and peace that reveals
all things within your eyes

Your body a portrait of elegance
your spirit wild and free
Burning, turning fire's passion
Heaven's opus reality
Even for this I don't love you
On love tis not my claim
I loved you without reason
before I ever knew your name

Cause all these things about you
are magic to my eyes
my heart jumps straight to heaven
when I look into your eyes
but if they ever leave you
if they ever fly away
I always knew your name, 'My Love'
my love for you remains

and sees not what could be
or must be or should be
expects not, projects not
but says softly, 'I love thee'
Not 'because', not 'in this way'
No conditions to display
I love thee without reason
I love thee enough to say

We could be together
We could be the same
loving completely, drinking deeply
fanning on this flame
We could be together
we could be the same
living till we fly
till we fly away

home.

I want to step up how often I write, and since I typically need excuses and deadlines to accomplish anything, I'm gonna write two reviews a week, one music, one movie.

Since I recently did Lady in the Water, I'll count that as my movie. Forget that I wrote it two weeks ago. I'm lazy, and this is my blog, after all.

Song: Nothing to Say – Andrew Peterson

I really love this song. I started off wanting to write something really poetic – you know, really blow your socks off with something really great and moving. I guess thinking about it more, to do that would prove I'd taken absolutely nothing from what this song is trying to say. And what is that? I suppose it's saying God has given us a really, really big world; a world way bigger than our own concerns or even successes, and the more we're able to lose ourselves, and this need we carry to rationalize all existence – the more we love the what God has given us without reason, we find a joy in that wonderful surrender. There is a freedom in truly, truly letting go.

I'll add more later.

Call this a movie review if you like. A few evenings ago, I saw Lady in the Water for what will be the first of a small handful of viewings. Last I checked, Yahoo Movies had an average critic grade of C and a user grade of C+. What follows is my review...

(By the way, this could be considered a spoiler. I don't think it is, but if you're sensitive to those things, beware.)

Cleveland Heep, the protagonist played wonderfully by Paul Giamatti, is trying to piece together the strange events happening around him and soon discovers they mirror an ancient fairy tale told to him by one of the other residents. Naturally, he asks this character to tell him the entire tale, and thus provide him information critical to a happy ending. Before she tells him the fairy tale in all its detail, she makes him prove to her he will receive the story as a child, and results in one of the best scenes of the movie.

I believe now that Shyamalan was speaking to all of us through that moment: that his fairy tales are not meant for the calculating, expectant, or the realists of the world. In this film, he carries on the ancient practice of telling fairy tales, and does so the old fashioned way - by taking the ordinary and unassuming, and creating an outrageous tale that will not allow itself to be perfectly comprehended or understood. What he creates is a world waiting to welcome anyone who believes magic can still happen, and shows us that a secret world can and does exist just below our swimming pool, if we only allow ourselves eyes to see.

This isn't a new idea for Shyamalan. Think back to Signs - the great scene where Joaquin Phoenix and Mel Gibson discuss whether events in life are purely coincidence, or if they carry with them the miracle of intention. Though the film involves an alien attack, that seems more of a subplot, highlighting the real story of Gibson's struggle to believe God is still good. In Lady in the Water, Giamatti takes on a very similar role. Going into the film, he is a man quitting on life for reasons I won't mention here. His journey is a reminder of what Shyamalan does so well in his films (I don't mean scare you to death). He takes real hurts - the ones buried deeper in us than most are willing to dig - and shows there is still hope; there is still room to believe life can be a fantastic journey.

On another level, I loved Lady in the Water because Shyamalan created a fairy tale world from normal life and refused to explain himself or apologize for his actions. I think it's one of those movies (or stories) that will frustrate a person who tries to rationalize the events taking place. After all, this a fiary tale, and if a character is half bodybuilder/half scrawny, that can happen. The point is not why he is that way, but simply that he's that way. Shyamalan's tale doesn't attempt to explain that or the other numerous oddities, just like the Brothers Grimm didn't explain why in Hansel & Gretel the witch lived in a gingerbread house, or why she wanted to cook the children. In a time where we the 'enlightened' feel a need to rationalize all existence, an attempt to break this anti-creative pattern is so refreshing. It makes me this among the purposes and messages of this movie was not in the ending point, nor any other point along the way, but that the movie was it's own point.

Is it a perfect film? Not nearly. There are issues with pacing - much of the movie feels scattered and requires some patience. But like I mentioned earlier, Cleveland Heep wasn't allowed to receive the fairy tale until he presented himself as a child. The movie has a wealth and depth that you can tap into, but you have to believe in the film's worth before it's worth is proven. You have to love it before it becomes lovable. We grow up and grow old, and we become so demanding. All Shyamalan did here was make a bedtime story for his children into a movie designed so that only children could unlock its mysteries.


After thought: Many think Heaven is a place where all our questions will find their answers, and we'll finally understand God. I'm sorry, but I think there's more to our eternity than the fulfilled desire of Adam and his apple. So no, I don't think we'll get our answers, and I don't think we'll ask our questions. I believe Heaven is a place where our wonder and awe are fully restored; where life is magical, and we are swept away by our prince in a fairy tale bigger than our understandings. I think that's what Christ meant when he said we have to become like children to enter his kingdom. **

One of the big no-no's that gets tied to post-modernism is moral relativism - the idea that its all about 'what works for you' - which, by the way, is one massively powerful idea in our current culture. The frequency and subtlety by which relativism is communicated is really very concerning.

One great example is the current commercials for Wendy's Hamburgers. They spent no time attempting to post-modernize their message after Dave Thomas' death. After a few failed advertising efforts (remember the strange man that appeared outside of people's houses in the middle of the night to tell them about Wendy's?), they've settled on a catchy, artistic campaign that ends with the message 'Eat what tastes right'.

Firstly, I'm glad I don't live by that message, or I'd probably look like an upright cow. The message is a convenient one for a fast food chain, since the 'eat what tastes right' mode of thinking is the only reason anyone eats fast food, and for its foolishness is the last argument one would (or should) use to justify such a habit. The funny part is, this is the exact argument we see used among our beloved fast food junkies! And why? Because the worst conceivable defence of a fast food obsession is also its only defence. Our burger-happy hedonists shape their diets around their taste buds at the neglect of every important part of their digestive system (and no, taste buds in fact don't make that cut). They satisfy the surface level at the cost of everything beneath.

Big question: Do we know people who are actually like this with their food choices? Maybe. There are people like this who do exist.

Bigger question: Do we know people who are like this with their spiritual choices? The answer is almost assuredly yes.

I wrote last night on my blog about our tendency to replace the God of the Bible, who is beyond our feelings and desires, with an 'improved' version of God - a deity far more tolerant of what we want and when we want. While this goes a long way to justify our pleasures and desires of the moment, and perhaps reduce or whitewash any sense of guilt we might otherwise have for pursuing first our own happiness, we starve our souls, which can only feed on the real, active, and unmoving Father.

If I may digress back to the food illustration once more, I remember hearing an amazing fact, I believe in the movie 'Supersize Me', which stated one of the facets of many fast foods is their tendency to act as a drug, causing the body to release a certain level of endomorphines, creating a relaxed and slightly euphoric sense about the individual. Once the meal is finished, the chemical release subsides, along with the happy feeling, causing the individual to 'crash'. The easy solution fast food provides to this crash is the further consumption of additional fast food, re-establishing the good feeling created by the chemicals stimulated. This is as close to the characteristics of a drug as I can describe.

This drug creates a false sense of sustenance, and in time, creates quite a dependency to maintain an energy level that was never really there. All the while this drug stands in place of what the body really needs and actually requires to survive, and such is our self-customized God which stands in place of the Living Heavenly Father in our faith practice... And you know, salads don't get a lot of commercial time either, except those you can get from Sonic, which is just as bullshit as their incredibly tasty burgers.

So what does all this have to do with post-modernism? Honestly, I suggest not that much at all. What many people assert as problems with post-modernism, I assert as the same overriding human problem that happens to have the current cultural skin of post-modernism on top of it. From the time Adam munched his Sonic salad thinking what looked cooler than the original could only be a good thing, we have all carried this wonderful knack of substituting God and all His goodness with a Deity that, like the God of Old, has but 1 commandment.

God of the Bible: "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die."

New God: "Eat what tastes right.”

So here's my plug for the week.

Pandora.com has to be the coolest thing I've straight up ever seen. Based on a very few artist selections, Pandora created a custom radio station that plays songs based on the initial styles and elements I select, and then refines the play selection based on my feedback of each song. The result is a constant stream of songs I've never heard, and all of which I love.
Don't even get me started on the tone quality, which is crystal clear. This is simply the neatest thing I've seen come across in a long, long time.

Finally, a radio station I don't have to hate. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

So today is Memorial Day, and at 9:08pm, I think I'm just now making my first attempt at productivity today. Actually, I did attempt to work on my car this morning, with zero success, and spent most of my time from that point sleeping, watching movies, and sleeping. Maybe that kind of time was needed, but I tend to think waste probably found its home somewhere in there, too.

So now I figure I have about two more hours of productive time, keeping in mind the alarm that will go off 8 1/2 hours from now.

What to write...what to write....

Song notice for today. If you haven't heard it, I highly recommend 'Toxic' by Nickel Creek. It's currently listenable on my myspace account: www.myspace.com/casadean. Fantastic song.

I'm beginning to hit that 'I'm fading' stage. It's now 10:27pm. I don't know what's happened to the last hour. I wish to death I had something big and meaningful to write about, but I'm not sure I do. I suppose, however, I can certainly take my best shot at it and see what happens.

I am continually amazed at how gracious God is in his patience with us. Of course, in saying this I really mean I'm amazed at how patient He is with me. I know my heart and the struggles that happen within it, and how petty they are when set against the words He's provided and the experiences He's given me. This all came to a point yesterday when, for the first time in any recent memory, I gave serious thought to the big 'is this Christian life, the pursuit of God, really worth it?'

Now, before I start getting random calls from sympathizers who're really questioning the condition of my soul, let me explain, because those big 'is all this really worth it' questions are borne out of a really important part of everyone's walk, and that is the part where we separate the active and present nature of God in relation to our lives from the practice and pursuit of His heart, His law, and His love. What do I mean by 'separation'? By this, I mean when we forget, or neglect, the reality of the character of God with all his personality and character traits, from our faith practice.

This can take shape in one of two ways. The first, and maybe the more uncommon and less-dangerous of the two, is when we remove the sense of an active God from the equation alltogether. In doing this, we heap our entire faith practice squarely upon our own shoulders, leading to a certain burnout. The second, more common and dangerous than the first, is when we replace the actual existant God with a more personalized version of the Most High. I think this is incredibly common among the most devout of Christians. As long as we have this sin influence involved with our thoughts and actions, we're always going to struggle with maintaining a true biblical image of our Father, Creator, and Saviour. Our sin likes to cloud these images, and substitute out certain character traits that conflict with today's self-pursuits. In this way the second possibility becomes far more dangerous than the first, which simply holds both our faith practice and our sin out in the open, both unjustified and un-supported by anything bigger than ourselves. In this light, a person can discover the emptiness of both pursuits, and perhaps re-discover the true, loving, and active God. The second substitutes our version of a new and improved God who amazingly lines up in accordance with what we want. To rediscover our true Father, we must forsake our images and perceptions of that false God, and the longer a person has held to those images, the harder they are to let go.

So where did I fall yesterday? Where am I still falling today? Probably under the second example. I really like to cloud God up with my own revisions to His character. Amazingly, while this helps me justify my sin, it also makes Him (or my image of Him) seem pretty lame. So after I go through my period of doubt and reconsideration of this whole faith-thing, I begin to consider this image at the heart of the faith I'm questioning. What I discover is perhaps the holiest thing happening was the questioning itself, because it makes me re-evaluate the image behind my faith, an image I find is inconsistent with Scripture, the liturgy of those God used to build His church, and with my own limited experience and understanding of who this God is really supposed to be. Fortunately, the next step is pretty clear. Once the falsity of our faith-image is realized, its back to Scripture to refine our image back to our true Father. Maybe He's not as accepting as we'd like, and maybe His agenda is somehow different than ours. But seeing as how we're pretty stinking small blips on a blippy planet anyway, His agenda might not be so bad. So that's where I'm left off, and its back to the Bible for me tonight. I promise I'll follow through and report how He's refining my image of Him.

So there we are. It's 11:06pm, and that alarm is a cruel 6 1/2 hours away. God bless. Goodnight.

This is something I wrote about this time last year. I hope you like it.
----------------------------------------------


The crowds had gone home for the evening, and the palm branches had long since blown away in the desert wind. The donkey - that noble steed on which Jesus’ revolutionary humility sat hours earlier - now returned to the post from which it was borrowed some hours earlier. If we didn't know what would happen just a few days later, it'd be easy (and true) to say Jesus was coming off His brightest moment with the people of Israel. “Hosanna!” they shouted, “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!” The masses could barely contain themselves as they shouted their praise to the prophet from Nazareth. But for now, the streets were silent, and so was Christ as He entered the temple that evening to be with His Father.

What He saw inside would stop anyone in their tracks. I would like to say that never before had one seen something so Holy shrouded by such sin, but Christ knew as He stared at the merchant tables with their gimmicks, slogans, and advertisements of happier spirituality, that the infiltration of such greed into the very dwelling place of His Father was but one more example of the reality of sin: that it will stop at nothing in its pursuit to mock the Glory of God.

No one was innocent in this picture. The merchants, among other things, were selling doves. I wonder if they charged more for white doves. They're prettier; they seem rare. I wonder if merchants advertised white doves as the key to really impressing God, that maybe then He'd listen a little closer to a person’s daily prayers? Was there a 2 for 1 circumcision ‘special’ running in the Court of Gentiles? Here was a place where promises of deeper spirituality were offered at competitive rates. The bleak reality of the situation was that of these lies, no one was innocent. Not the merchants for selling them, not the people for buying them, and certainly not the temple priests for allowing such desecration to take place.

I believe Jesus wept that night, both for the love of His Father’s House and for the love of those who had shamed it. He knew that these were the very people for whom He would give His life by week’s end, and Jesus knew the action He would take in the temple the following day would turn the road of His ministry decidedly in the direction of the cross.

When Jesus cleared the temple, He showed a side of God’s character that we rarely see in the personhood of Jesus. He held nothing back as He set to ruin all that stood in the temple that was not of God. Making good on Isaiah 42:13, Jesus was a warrior that day, acting on the jealous love God has for Himself and His creation--a love that does not compromise itself on the whims of any societal sin. And all this He did for the ultimate purpose of redeeming that which God had set apart as His dwelling place.

What I hope you find simply amazing is that Christ has repeated this process in all who accept what He would offer just days later, and continues to offer today. His relentless pursuit of our hearts led Him to die upon the cross, so that all who accept Him would inherit a warrior who, like a sculptor, works to remove all that does not belong, until all that remains resembles nothing less than the shape of our Savior.
---------------------------------------------

I hope that's something you can consider throughout the Easter week (or any other week). I know I have some tables in my life that desperately need to be overturned. I guess I'm glad Christ got his practice in so long ago. Maybe he can clear my life of its tables. Maybe I won't crucify Him in return. Maybe I already did, and maybe He loves me anyway.

And here we are on our way to Seattle. We decided to detour down some random Washington highways that aimed towards Mt. St. Helens.
This is a typical Washington highway view - tones of pine trees, big blue sky, and of course a nice shot of St. Helens. It used to be 14,000+ feet, now 9000+ feet. Especially in the last picture, imagine it ascending up to that next cloud line, and that's about where the peak used to be. I can't imagine what kind of force it takes to blow up that much of a mountain.

These kinds of trips are always fun, especially with folks like Kurt. We have no problem turning down a random road that points in the general direction of an interesting place that we never intended to go, and then following that for a few hours for the heck of it. I can't do that with too many friends.

 

....and a few more... The Chinese Gardens are pretty cool. I think these are really gonna turn out well once I finish them.

Some thoughts on Portland... You can walk everywhere important in the city within 30-45 minutes if you want, or you can just ride the lightrail, which is free. There's also no sales tax, which is a lot of fun if you don't live there (they've got a state income tax - a shocker for us Texans). I went out to Beaverton last night and ate some great Indian food. Very spicy - I'm paying for it today.

The first descriptive I have for Portland so far is 'grey'. I haven't seen a really blue sky since my airplane began its descent into Oregon. Constantly overcast and usually sprinkling, Portland's colors are typically neutral; their neutrality is only hightened by the weather. Combine that with the simple fact that Portland is an incredibly artistic place in general, and what you then get is a very beautiful and very somber place, and it almost creates this poetic tragedy - as if neutrality were preferred. Very good for walking and thinking.

I went to Kurt's church today, a young, small church in a suburb of Portland called Scappoose. I'm actually at their pastor's house as I'm writing this. They're a good church - still developing in a lot of areas, but the pastor, Mike, is a kind and insightful man.

Tomorrow Kurt and I head out to Seattle. I'm sure plenty of pictures will follow from that. Till then.


 

And here's a few more, cause I care.





 

Here are a few pictures from Oregon so far. I will update these after I get back and Photoshop these things, but so far, there's a few pics of this huge bronze statue in downtown Portland, plus some landscape shots and some pics from the Portland Chinese Gardens. Enjoy.


 

I lost my cellphone and my watch today. To those who know me best, I really lost them years ago, and today was just my life catching up to my quirks. I have many quirks. But that's not what I'm here to talk about, so I'll move on.

I really think the items in question were actually stolen. Not that I'm supremely capable losing them both on the same day, cause I'm at least that. One of my other quirks comes from my overly-active mind. I love puzzles and strategy games (Risk, baby.) My point being, when I get this idea in my mind that 'hey, maybe my stuff was stolen', within moments I have this intricate tapestry woven of how, when, and why my stuff was stolen, whodunnit, and how I can set an intricate tran to catch whodunnit in the act. Ridiculous, I know, but you should hear my actual plan. Within moments, my imagination has me believing that theft is a near certainty compared to the near impossibility that, you know, I just lost them like I lose everything else. I actually lost my glasses, wallet, watch, phone, and keys within 2 days once.

ok....twice....

I've had at least 3 pairs of glasses, and never held onto a pair more than 8 months. I can't count how many wallets I've had, except I know I've had more watches than wallets. My aunt got me two watches for Christmas one year. I lost one of them on new year's eve, bought an identical replacement, and recovered my lost watch the following October, and lost my 3rd watch, which I never even opened, leaving me with 2 of the exact same watch, 1 of which was 'stolen' today, and the 2nd of which I now have on my wrist, meaning it is facing certain doom.

Don't get me started on my keys.

That same aunt is used to giving me the same gifts over and over again. From 1997-2002, I received a portable CD player from her every Christmas, as I either destroyed or lost the previous one.

I'm an absolutely useless driver when other people are riding with me. My attention is one anything but where we're supposed to be going. Virtually anyone who has ridden with me, ever, can attest to this.

I honestly believed my phone and watch were stolen when I began writing this. I suppose that possibility has grown narrower in the last few minutes.

In moments like these, I'm awfully glad I know a God with a top-down view, who can see the start and finish lines for all my little adventures; who knows not just where to direct me, but know how to direct me, too. He knows the direction I need to go, but knows how to speak into my heart to calm me and help me realize I am the one keeping me lost - that I'm the thief that stole my stuff, right before I lost it.

In my attempts to feel cultural, I feel more fake right now than I have in a long time. The real bummer is I feel that way almost exclusively as a result of becoming the person I thought I wanted to be. That flow of images isn't arriving as easily as I figured it would. So what's my lesson here? A new laptop, an earl grey, and a pair of Teva's later, I don't feel particularly creative.

This also might have something to do with my decision to turn my back to God's truth today. I don't know why I do that. Just like the image Charlie Peacock paints in his song William and Maggie, God can lead me to the very edge of the world, and I can so easily respond by dropping a stone down the side and turning & returning to the very same life I had before. Where does that leave me? Is eternity a gift we can really stare in the face only to reject? How many times can I ask this question?

Instead of trying to explain this problem off in some poetic and fanciful way, why don't I spend some time in God's word? After all, Scripture is the only best way I can seek God as my foundation. I miss Him. I miss my daddy, and am amazed he still stoops down when I fall to look after me and nurse me back to health. Maybe some day he can teach me to fly.

That's right, sports fans, it's 8:30, and I'm getting ready for bed.

My shift at work recently changed to 7:15 - 3:45. I'm enjoying this change, though. The day becomes a whole new experience. My least productive hours of the day happen to be that 3:30-5 stretch, so avoiding that alltogether makes for a pretty good day.

There will be days for deeper points, but tonight I just don't have one.

Oh, and should anyone actually read this post - if you're into great great music from indie artists, check out Wes Cunningham at cdbaby.com. I'm the last guy you'll ever see plugging a product, and that's fine because Wes is bigger than life in the minds of the 200 people that bought his record, and that is my quotable for the evening.

Peace.