The year-long silence is broken! For the scant few who follow my blog, you may have received notifications of new (old) posts showing up. If so, my apologies. I’ve decided to merge my poetry and food blogs into one, so that means posts you’ve likely never read are now sandwiched between those you have. Hooray?
This wasn’t the photo I originally wanted to accompany this blog. I was hoping for a screenshot from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, but everything I found was either too small or too blurry to be of any use. It’s probably just as well, as this photo works better.
I presented this message to a group of middle school boys (called “Trek”) on April 29, 2008, while serving in the Awana program at my church.
How often do you find yourself recounting the good times in life? When things went right, when it all worked out, or when you received a clear answer to prayer? Did you leap for joy and click your heels together, shouting “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Did you do a victory dance, a jig, or a similarly-embarrassing pathetic reproduction of the Macarena?
During high school, I was told I ought to start keeping a journal and recording my thoughts. It seemed as impossible as it was uninteresting—my life has never been exciting, so why write about it? But, despite this self-deprecating attitude, I did manage to record a few odds and ends throughout my formative teenage years.
Observe the photo accompanying this blog. I had a quote running through my head from Joe Versus the Volcano, so I googled “luggage.” After looking through a few pages of results, I happened upon this wonderful gem—instantly I had a connection! In one of the earliest sessions of Men’s Fraternity, we dealt with the concept of unpacking. That is, examining areas of your life where you’ve haphazardly compartmentalized emotions or memories, ultimately resulting in issues by the handful.
It’s true, I’m not a social butterfly. Nobody has ever accused me of being too open, too friendly, or too sociable. It’s not something I suspect will ever happen, nor do I plan to help it along, but all the same I am beginning to loosen up. Or, dare I say it, I’m beginning to step out.
Lately, I’ve been looking for hope it all the wrong places. It’s foolishness, I know, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying. It seems like an inevitable, inescapable cycle: I seek my own will, fail miserably, and then cry out to God when I get stuck. When will I ever learn to simply trust in Him alone?
This morning I had Raisin Bran for breakfast. As I poured the contents from the cardboard box into my bowl, my hopes and dreams of finding those little nuggets of chewy goodness hidden amongst boring flakes of bran began to fade. Apparently, my bowl was completely devoid of raisins.
The arguments for and against abortion have raged on long before my birth. I suspect they will continue long after my death. It’s a shame we have to argue at all. This is the land of the free, home of the brave. But not everyone conceived here will enjoy that freedom or grow up to be brave.