in charlotte, mugsy bogues is nowhere to be found

Bed Schedule of the last week:

Thursday, May
Friday, May 23: Hotel Room in Douz, Tunisia. Woke up sweating, stood up, went back to sleep.
Saturday, May 24: Bed in Sousse, Tunisia.
Sunday, May 25: A few hours on the cold tile in the Madrid airport didn't prove to allow for much slumber, but it got us home to Torremolinos.
Monday, May 26: Bunkbed in Torremolinos, Spain.
Tuesday, May 27: Bunkbed in Amsterdam Base. Ate noodle, stocked up on salt licorice.
Wednesday, May 28: Ground of Charlotte airport. Though awakened every two hours by the loudspeaker recording, slept remarkably well.

Projected for Thursday, May 29: somewhere in San Jose, Costa Rica

And now it's breakfast time with brotherbear.

invisible tasting cheese coupled with cracker bread makes for a filling treat.

In my estimation, I've eaten upwards of 20 pieces of cracker bread today.

On Thursday I purchased a block of cheese. It didn't taste very well, but I figured it was valuable protein, so I decided I would make use of it. Before lunch today, I had 50% of the block of cheese left to eat. After lunch today, I had zero percent left to eat. This was eaten with nearly ten pieces of cracker bread, mostly to mask the taste of the neutrally-flavoured cheese. If I had to describe the taste, I would probably describe it as invisible.

Tonight for dinner I consumed some Ramen, though it wasn't name brand Ramen. I had some more cracker bread left, so I decided to finish them off. Fairly certain over ten pieces disappeared into my tummy-box.

Tonight I'm going to sleep/wait/knit/write/read/eat muesli in the Charles De Gaulle airport. I will have sufficient energy to do this because I have consumed so much cracker bread.

seagulls in a crepe fight.

There's a homeless man. Roaming the streets of Amsterdam. Stoned out of his mind. He walks around wearing wooden shoes, playing a classical guitar for the many tourists that come through the flourescently-lit area. In this case the tourists were Spanish-speaking. But he fails to feel acknowledged. As I walk away the last thing I hear him mutter is, "I can speak seven languages and it doesn't even matter."

We speak languages: We do ministry. We sing songs. We intercede. We learn. We travel. But what good is this if nothing is expressed in love? With love we can speak in a language of significance, a language that will translate a mind that is clouded with herb and the other fogginess that other forms of emptiness may bring about. This is a language I want to learn.

I thank you LORD that You are a rock when much else seems to have de-evolved into a gelatin-like consistency. Your faithfulness sets this servant to dance.

gears, cogs, and the cereal that lies on my floor

I'm realizing that everywhere I look is through something you have made. I can't look in any direction without staring through the expanses of your quite unconventional palate. Just as the clouds you've formed are something moldable and fluffy, the paths of which are unpredictable to my will yet ever being predicted by yours - so too I ask you would make me.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My eye. Do not be like the horse or like the mule, Which have no understanding, Which must be harnessed with bit and bridle...(Psalm 32: 8-9, NKJV)

It often struggle to take steps when my vision seems ever obscured by some sort of un-seeable blindfold.

I will trust, believe, go, walk, etcetera, but save me from turning it into something mechanical.

stolengoods

It's a bummer when your backpack is stolen from your rental car.

It's a bummer to have a laptop and other expensive electronics in that backpack, but it is also a bummer to be without the practical ammenities such as underpants, a couple t-shirts for the week, and chargers that can no longer be used to charge the electronics that are still left in your posession, amongst other things.

But life is still good. I see that these things can't take away from where I stand with the Lord, and that is in life. Pray that the one's who absconded with these things may also come to the realization of this life (perhaps reading through the journals or bibles they'll see something that catches their eye?) And then maybe they could then drop off the backpacks and objects within to an obvious location where those objects can then be transported to the fuzz, and in turn moi, Sung Ha, and Christina.

And to you, State Farm Insurance, please accept the claim on these stolen goods.

theothersideofthewall.

These are some arts from the West Bank side of the Security Barrier between Israel and the West Bank. I can't say I agree with all of the staunch, polemical (this is a new word I've just learned) messages behind these pieces; however, I like the style, and I like that most of them say something. It challenges me.

A couple of these are the more famous Banksy pieces he's done in Bethlehem fairly recently, i.e. bulletproof vest on bird, scissor cut-out, and children on the beach.

oooooh, Bonus!

some suprises you may not find elsewheres: