endurance vs. withering (like grass)

I don't know what it will look like, and I don't know what it will say, but I'm willing to move forward. The struggle as of late: application of an often times obscure faith to a world with concrete needs. Wanting to say something real that will be more than just a stream of words, stylistically laid out, sans serif, with strong images. We can know so much while still remaining unaware of practical solutions. When we move towards Your heart we move towards these. The pieces fit, there are just so many of them to sort through.

So I carry a bible, and a newspaper. I'm sure they go together in some way or another.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know what I’m feeling. And in this it’s become apparent that I run rather dry, and You stand rather strong. There is so much about You to dwell on, even when I don't feel right. I’m trying to trust You when You say the approval is here.

a long citation, including, but not limited to the b-word.

{Thus in (Psalm) 36, "My heart showeth me the wickedness of the ungodly," each can reflect that his own heart is the specimen of that wickedness best known to him. After that, the upward plunge at verse 5 into the mercy high as heaven and the righteousness solid as the mountains takes on even more force and beauty. From this point of view I can use even the horrible passage in (Psalm) 137 about dashing the Babylonian babies against the stones. I know things in the inner world which are like babies; the infantile beginnings of small indulgences, small resentments, which may one day become dipsomania or settled hatred, but which woo us and wheedle us with special pleadings and seem so tiny, so helpless that in resisting them we feel we are being cruel to animals. They begin whimpering to us "I don't ask much, but", or "I had at least hoped", or "you owe yourself some consideration". Against all such pretty infants (the dears have such winning ways) the advice of the Psalm is the best. Knock the little bastards' brains out. And "blessed" he who can, for it's easier said than done.}

C.S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 136

This is certainly one of the most brilliant inductive interpretations I've heard in a long time. Thanks Clive.

Life lately is scattered. The daily schedule includes, but is not limited to morning yogurt-eating, class time, recycling, reverse watermelon-ing into small swimming pools, and quite often a lot of meetings and brainstorming. It's cool, but it's hard to know where this is all going. I'm having to trust that nothing You do is without Your purposes, or Your direction for that matter. Even when everything can seem so un-directed.

You want me in places where I can see your abilities and mine own disabilities. Not as grounds for showing me how weak I am (though this is accomplished); moreso I think as grounds for showing me how capable you are. It's going to be unbelievable to see what your hands can produce, if only I will let you grab them and put them to the work for which you have intended them.

We can try to be so professional.

the dight is always narkest...

If I'm planted where You live, I'll flourish in Your living room.

fresh: full of sap, lit. fat

flourishing: green

More and more I see that your presence is one that musn't be confined to one room or a single session of song-singing. Really, where doesn't your presence exist? Where shouldn't we be caught up in the understanding and depth that is found in Your affections? How quietly unaware of You we can be. Make us ones who are living with open eyes.

Why shouldn't we find you in best-selling literature? Do you cry when we confine ourselves away from that which would challenge our "knowledge" of You? Really, what couldn't You use to reveal Yourself? So, when we cast off certain items as an offense to our understandings, are we therefore casting ourselves away from the understanding we would develop of You in those areas? I'm believing You have overwhelming depth of insight to speak to individuals today, even through things that aren't sold in Christian bookstores.

And in my own life, you have given me the ability to speak, to say something, anything. Am I saying it? It's time something authentic, and I thank You that I don't have to wait for it to come from contemporary circles or pop culture.

---

Batman is surely now slaying the masses at the box office. Unfortunately, I will most likely be a part of contributing to its large profit margin. From what I've seen, I'm thinking it may be more about giving America hope in the midst of economic downfall than it is about a man who looks adorns a bat costume while saving the people of Gotham city.

I'm feeling as though my assets are scattered.

Dear Washington, I shall behold you once more.

Soon I shall find myself descending (in some dimensions I would prefer to say ascending) into your stately pines, blue water, clean air, and bustling traffic. The tropics can be enjoyable, but in all honesty, I do prefer the forest, mountains, and snow that falls in the winter.

My communication will no longer be typed characters displayed as pixels on electronic monitors. How I will handle this transition I am not entirely sure. Sometimes I feel it's easier to type, less easy to speak with creative diction in proper syntax (at least in any agreeable amount of time.) With audible conversation, you don't hear green, squiggly, lines informing you of improper semi-colon use; with speech, I find myself mumbling, drowning in words, usually saying something I don't mean to say. I like Micrososft word because you can drag sentences exactly where you know they need to be. I need practice in socialization.

And here it comes.

---

I'll spend 15.83 at Starbucks IF it is an airplane company that is footing the bill.

who?

those who wait for You
those who seek You
stranger
alien
drunkards
the humble
the poor
prisoners
servants

These are who You came for. Help me not to be so prideful that I cannot see myself in one, if not many, of these. Thank You for coming for those who need/needed/will-need You. It's not something we would automatically look for.

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.