A Well Ordered Life

I am a person who likes his clothes scattered about the floor, his hair unkempt, and his work piled up all over his desk. In other words order and organization do not come naturally to me. Chaos can often comfort me, aide in my creativity. However it also has downsides it is a distraction to my productivity, it feeds distraction rather than focus, and it clutters up my bid’ness. Because of the latter reasons, I’ve been working on creating a well ordered life. While I’m still musing on how to apply this principle to my life as a whole, I’ve begun applying it to different pockets of my life. I began by pairing down my sentimental/photo/junk items. Growing up we moved around a lot, and as a result I have an odd habit of holding onto random objects or pictures that remind me of the past. Now I’m not saying it’s bad to have keepsakes and the like, but it’s also not ok to be a pack rat. Eventually the time comes when I started to wonder why I’m moving these boxes around with me that I rarely open, and what’s inside them. I open them to discover old hobbies, significant memorabilia, and junk that might have held some significance in the past but now is just adding poundage to the overall weight of the items I own. Facing the pile of junk and memorabilia I did a good job getting rid of things so that I won’t have to open the boxes and start throwing things away again. When in doubt throw it out. Keep only what is really significant. So I did a lot of throwing away, in that department, it felt pretty good in fact. Later on I’ll have to go back and give order to all the old photos, and memorabilia, but for now its a step in the right direction. The next area I have been adding order to is my library. In particular I have been cataloging my books in an attempt to both get a feel for all that I have, and to allow me to easily find what I’m looking for. In order to expedite the process I purchased program called Delicious Library. It is a mac program which is free to try (up to 25 items I think) check it out here. Basically it allows you to catalogue & sort your library digitally, either by scanning, entering the ISBN, or searching for you book. Although I’m using it for my library you can use it for other items such as cds, dvds, and pretty much anything with a barcode that is on amazon. It even allows you to check out items to people so you can remember who forgot to return Little Women to you. I’m not finished with the book project as I’m still working on sorting out some categories, should I create a category for my favorite authors or put their books in the categories which they address? These are the problems that plague me and keep me up at night… Not really I sleep like a baby… with clothes scattered about the floor.

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Finals

Ladies and Gents, it’s finals week. I’m tired. My brain is friend. I’ve finished three exams so far. I have a huge paper looming over me. On top of that my car needs to be taken in for repairs. I’m hoping to drive to Memphis on Saturday. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep and all my problems would fade away… but they’re not going to. Then again things could be worse, my leg could be on fire.

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Daryl

I’m riding in a truck with a 6’8″ black man driving and a little white guy sandwiched between us. The little white guy is almost 50 but he looks older. His hair is white and straw like. The lines on his face are deep. He’s spent about 10 of the last 15 years in jail. He went in originally for crack-cocaine and then had a few parole and other issues extend his sentence. His name is Daryl. The black guys sitting next to him has a shaved bald head and a thin goatee with a little bit of gray peppered in. His name is Big Dog. He’s asking Daryl about his life. He’s trying to figure out where he is spiritually. Big Dog asked me to witness to Daryl a few minutes earlier and I had muttered my way through a presentation of the gospel. But there’s a big difference between the way I talk to Daryl and the way Big Dog talks to him. When I talked to Daryl I was talking to him about a subject, the power of Jesus in providing salvation and the necessity of relying upon him for both salvation and sanctification. When Big Dog talks to Daryl he engages him, he challenges him, he finds out where he is spiritually and tries to take him deeper. He’s also harsher on Daryl, he doubts him more often and doesn’t take him at his word all the time. But he’s talking with Daryl, instead of talking at Daryl like I was doing. I notice this tendency of mine and try to correct it, I remind myself I need to find out and care about the person, before I can make any real difference in their life.

Big Dog has credibility with Daryl. He’s spent time in jail, done drugs, had prostitutes, and probably used to live a life worse than Daryl did, before he turned his life around. Now, he’s on fire for Jesus and he cares about and engages people most Christians are afraid of. That’s why I like Big Dog, he encourages me and puts me in positions to talk to these people as well. The type of people most of us would lock our doors to, if we saw them walking near our car on the sidewalk. These are the type of people Big Dog hires to work for himself. He hires them so to give them some work, (I also discovered that getting out of jail can be very expensive) but also so he can hammer them with the gospel. They know he cares for them financially and spiritually.

One of the main points Big Dog was trying to get across to Daryl is that he has to invest personal time with God, not just go to Church, not just rely on what other people say about God. He tell Daryl that if he’s interested in an attractive women, he wouldn’t send someone else to talk to her. He’d take the initiative. Big Dog reminds him that God’s the same way. If you want to get close to him, you can’t expect your pastor or your friends to do the legwork. You have to do it yourself. He tells Daryl to read his bible and to spend time praying. Now I’m starting to feel guilty. I think back over the week and all the quite times I’ve missed. I think about how I don’t really have the personal authority to recommend a disciplined prayer life. This is where I begin to see my hypocrisy. I begin to see how easy it is to think that the crack addict, the inmate, the ex-con is the one that really needs to be reading the Bible, praying, seeking God. And how easy it is to excuse myself from failing to do the same thing. Because deep in my heart I think I’m better than them, I think they need to be ‘fixed’ more than I do. Instead of realizing that any moral difference between persons is infinitesimally small compared to the the moral difference between God and me. I’m also reminded that the primary purposes of these pursuits are God’s glory, not to make ‘better, cleaner, nicer’ people. I must pursue God because he is my goal, my desire, not because I want to reform. I must seeking a relationship with the God who can change lives, not merely seeking a life change from God. He must be the primary pursuit. But I get distracted from that far too often.

We eat lunch with Daryl and hear more about his life. He’s been married twice and divorced twice. He seems pretty honest, he admits that he treated his first wife poorly. He knows he’s messed up his life, through drugs and other mistakes. But he has a strong sense of morality. He knows what’s right and wrong, he just hasn’t always chosen what’s right. He seems like he’s trying to now though. After a long lunch conversation, he and Big Dog head out. But not before we give Daryl a Bible. He promises he’ll read his. I hope I read mine.

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Out of Control

Sometimes  it’s nice when your life spins so horribly out of control that you can’t do anything but just let go and trust God.

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Lazy River Days

aaahhh. Its nice to have time to do nothing but read, relax, and swim. Its nice to have a grandmother cook you potroast. Its nice to be around family. Its nice to play with your nephews. Its nice to sit on the edge of a dock with your feet hanging off the edge as you watch the sunset melt into the horizon. With the exception of the screams and crying from my 3 year old and 8 month old nephews, its pretty nice out here.

Its also nice to be away from things. Its nice to be away from obligations, worries, and troubles. Its nice not to have a tv around. Its nice to be in a place where you can escape from everybody for a little bit. Its nice to be in a place where you have to drive into town and go to the library to get internet. Its nice to walk through a town that still has an old fashioned post office. Its nice to be in a town where you can leave your house and car doors unlocked.

All in all this is a pretty nice little vacation.

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People I don’t Like

You ever have people you just can’t stand to be around? Well sometimes I’m that for myself. And it’s terribly hard for me to get away from myself.

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Travels

At 4:45 pm central standard time on Wednesday June 9th Anno Domini 2010, I was being driven to the airport by a beautiful young lady with very few cares in the world. Aside from having to leave the lady for a brief period of time, my life was smiles and sunshine. I was about to depart on a plane which would carry me off to Europe where I would saunter about in Budapest, Italy, and “Turkey 2010.” When jesting about possible items I may have forgotten, my lovely chauffeur, mentioned my passport. When the word reached my ears the mirth left my demeanor. The color fled my face, leaving it a pale and pasty white. My heart skipped a few beats, and then realizing its mistake tried to make up for it by beating at a more rapid pace. The cares which I mentioned earlier, having previously number very few, somehow managed to propagate at exponential rates for their number had now risen to a sizable multitude.

My mind now fighting against this multitude of cares, decided that the best course of action would be to stop the car. My lips seemed to agree and they said “stop the car” or something to that effect. My driver humbly pointed out that the interstate is not the best place to cease movement in an automobile. After considering this counter argument, I concurred and when a suitable stopping place arrived we pulled over. I scoured my bags and pockets looking for the passport, which as some of my more astute readers have already figured out I had no earthly clue where it was located. After scouring my bags I made some calls to Dallas which was the last place I had seen my passport. My friend not being able to find it there, gave me hope that I had brought it with me. I returned to the friends house where I had been staying, I tore apart his house and my car, but to no avail. At this point my lovely chauffeur had to depart for her job. Fearing that my passport had fled this mortal life, I made an appointment at the passport office in Dallas. I hopped in my car and proceeded to the airport. Explaining my situation to the people behind the counter I discovered they were not prepared to deal with the situation and I received a number. With this number in hand I set off on the 470 mile drive to Dallas at about 7 pm. Making several calls I was informed that it would be a $200 penalty for rescheduling my flight, plus however much more the new flight would cost. At 7:20 my flight took off into the east as I drove west.

After 470 miles, many CDs, two gas stops, two sting cheeses, one granola bar, one power bar, one 5 hour energy drink, and  a gatorade I arrived in Dallas at approximately 2:30 am. I found my wallet hidden underneath a a pile of papers. I also found that a banana had been left in my room and an army of fruit flies had been attacking it in my absence. After discovering my wallet, discarding the banana, and canceling my appointment at the passport office, I retired to sleep about 3:00 am.

After hitting the snooze twice I rolled out of bed at 8:10 am on June 10th. After taking a much needed shower, stretching my back, and making sure I still had my passport with me, I got back into the car and proceeded to return the 470 miles I had traversed the previous day. I called the airline and found out that my ticket now would cost nearly double the amount I had booked it for originally. Then after one stop, and two burritos I arrived at about 4:00 pm. At 4:45 pm central standard time I once again was driven by my lovely chauffeur to the airport, this time making it all the way there, with all esential documents in my possession.

Now the first one generally wants to do after driving 900 miles in less than 24 hours is to sit in a confined space for an extended period of time. The middle seat of the middle isle of a transatlantic economy class flight is the perfect place to fulfill this desire. It also helps when the people sitting on either side of you have no personal space issues, and as a result feel perfectly fine with sleeping with their arm or back against your body, contorting you into a human sandwich of slight awkwardness. Whenever this happens there is a struggle which wells up inside me. My first impulse is to avoid contact, I don’t particularly like having strangers pressed against me for many hours. This first impulse is checked by my desiree not to implode. Like a nation being attacked from two different sides, I realize that there is only so far I can retreat before collapsing in upon myself. Like that nation I resolve to guard my borders, if the two nations on either side of me decide to expand any further they must do so outward and not inward. This is the point where I clamp my arms down upon the armrests and for any pressure exerted against them is met with equal resistance.

After crossing the atlantic I experienced a form of posture which consists of not sitting and moving your legs. I believe the kids these days are calling it walking. It does wonders for the kinks and aches one develops from sitting and not moving your legs. After that brief period of relaxation I was placed between two new individuals who understood the concept of personal space and flown off to Budapest. I arrived in Budapest at 4:00 pm local time, on Friday, June 12. This means that it would have been 11:00 am Friday, June 12th central standard time. This means that in the 42 hours and 15 minutes I have just described to you I drove 940 miles and flew 5272 miles for a grand total of 6212 miles travelled. Now it is time to stretch my legs.

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In the night

In the night I had a dream. Where most things were what they seemed. I was in a camp far in the northern land. In the night in my dream I saw the northern light. Instead of shifting slow like sand, they danced quick and bright. Illuminated snakes of blue and green slithered through the sullen skies. It was so beautiful I didn’t think I could trust my eyes. It was something I would not want to miss. Just once to see an aurora borealis.

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End of the Semester

I feel as though I am standing out in the open wearing a football helmet. To my right is a red crane whose arm is extending directly above my head. Attached to that red crane arm is an cord which extends and then ends like an exclamation point with a molten steel wrecking ball. This wrecking ball was held horizontal to the red crane arm, until it was released. Once it was released the cord snapped taught and with a mighty rushing wind, it began to swing toward me. The molten steel wrecking ball, is the end of the semester rushing quickly, forcefully and inevitably towards me. Good thing I’m wearing a helmet.

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Update

Life’s pretty good right now. Turns out I don’t have to have surgery. I got wonderful family and friends. Life’s pretty good.

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