An old entry that was too close to publish at the time

A few weeks ago I was processing lots of stuff - lots and lots of stuff which I guess is not that usual - I wrote this entry but did not post it. I have several entries like this - seven or eight all told. When I started this blog I told myself to only blog for me - to ignore the world and only write for myself. That has gotten harder and harder to do. My mother asked me why I write about such personal stuff - to which I responded - "Would you read it if I didn't?" That's why this blog is here - it lets me vent and process, makes me think, and learn. Hopefully the things I learn, the knees I scrape, and the lessons I process can help in some small way. I don't pretend to know anything special - all I can share is what I'm going thru, what I've been thru - and in sharing it - I find it. It's like teaching trigonometry - you don't know it till you can share it, till you can teach it. Writing this blog is one way for me to share it, one way for me to learn it, one way for me to know it. So when I write something and find it to be a comfort, when I write something and find that in that process I have learned something, something about myself, something about God, something about His love for me - than I need to share it.


It was titled

"Making things right . . ."

Written on December 5th at 3:36 am


The joy of making things right. It has been bouncing around my head these last few days. And joy is complicated - it's not happiness - its sometime like it, it can cause it, and it can exist within and beside it - but joy is different. Listening to friends set things right, and seeing that joy. Finding things that I need to address in my own life, setting them right. Goals, pursuits, submission, reasons, drives, and plans - my life is not my own - what does that mean? Do I live this way? Does this ring true?

I read about Saul and see myself, my pride, my plans, my desires. So often I find myself trying to bring things to the cross - how can I be an engineer for Christ? How can I be a leader - a brother - a friend. I keep trying to do things, forgetting to heed Samuel's warning -

"Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the voice of the Lord? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams"

I keep bringing the fat, when God wants me. O Father that I would consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing You. I press on to take hold of that for which You took hold of me.

That is so easy to type - and so large and all encompassing.

I was advised to guard my heart a few days ago. Advice I was not expecting. Advice that I did not question till today, when walking home. The thought sat in the back of my head waiting in line to be processed. And there I found it on the corner of Maple and Whitman. I found it grouped in with the oddest companions. The advise, a quote from Braveheart, and a verse, were all sitting at that corner, waiting for me.


Guard your heart. . .

"My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever."

"Your heart is free . . . have the courage to follow it"

Is a guarded heart free?
Free to feel? Free to fail?
Who is my strength?
Who is my portion?

Guard you heart . . .

Is a guarded heart free?
It is safe.

Safe from what?

Who is the strength of my heart?
Who is my portion?

What if you fall?

What of it?
I know who is the strength of my heart
I know who is my portion

Guard your heart . . .

Father you have my heart
You are it's strength, You are my Portion
In you I am free

Feeling home

I'm starting to realize that I need a laptop - a laptop with Photoshop CS3 on it. I have neither. And by need I of course mean want.

I've got tons of pictures I want to process, a few I want to post, and stories! Stories that I'm dying to share. The stories are just like the pictures - they need to be processed before they are posted. The don't need a laptop however - just time - time to be processed, time to unpacked and examined, time to become my stories. I was able to see people, to see family that I have not seen in so long - I was able to visit with my Uncle, to talk my cousins husband, to see another cousin happy in her home. To see what a good man she is married too, to be proud of him, a quite guy or at least maybe it was me that was being quite.

It was fun.

We talked blogs and photos and websites and pictures. We talked about energy and wine and jobs and the future. We talked about food and flan and flights - skiing and mountain passes. Not the sort of things that are remembered years later - I never remember what was talked about at a family events - unless it was exceptionally funny or more likely - awkward. It's the being there, that I'll remember - I'll remember talking and laughing and - and even more than that I'll remember how I feel tonight.

The feelings are what I'll remember years from now.

Feeling home - feeling home like a favorite sweatshirt that has been folded up and put away in the closet for a season, only to be found again on a rainy day.

Feeling home.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry . . .

I'm very tempted to vent my woe's, to tell the world how put upon I am. For "those who do not complain are never pitied" - my best laid plans are crumbing around me. Last night I had my little pity party - an old roommate Josh would have called me a "sufferbaby" and he'd have been right. Dick Hammer would have told me to accept my responsibility's and he'd be right. It's no fun when things go to crap and it's not anyone's fault but you are responsible for it. But who said that life has to be what my definition of fun is at any time. I could hang on to my plans for the break - hang on and let the fact that they are not coming to frution poison the remaining time I have. And last night that was exactly what I was and what I wanted to do. I was mad, and still, and quiet. And I wanted to stay that way - to stay that way until the rest of the world was more miserable than me, till the whole world knew how I suffered. Till I knew that they understood - then once there was no joy left in the world, then I could be happy, or at rather I could wallow in justified misery.

In "The Great Divorce" Lewis talks about how pity often can be used the wrong way, how some will try to use it to hold joy hostage, the idea that Hell can rule over Heaven. That sadness and despair should to tell joy when and where it can be. Despair's wish that joy must be dependent it's permission before it can do it's work. That is where I was last night, or where I wanted to be.

And the rather funny thing is - that I have a wonderful prospect in front of me - I get to spend 6 to 7 hours with a very close and dear friend, with my best friend - and I've come to realize that I can truly say that. Sure the week is blown - my plans have gone phut - but, but that's not the point - I can't change that - let it go. Focus on what will be the highlight of your break Neil - focus on that, don't worry about what you can't change. Swallow your pride, stop being selfish, and have fun! Enjoy the time you've been given.

See!!!

Already you're smiling
Already you're excited
Already you are thinking of the next trip over.

Stop Looking at Me!!!
I'm not looking at you. . .
Stop it!
Stop what?

Sometimes the voices in my head don't get along

I've got short legs - look at the cuff

Why this shot and not the others?

I'm not sure. . .

I like this accident shot. I like the others too. I love the others. But this is the one I'm posting. It's late and I'm trying to - trying to process the last few days. Thinking thru my fingers, too cold to drive - to tired to talk. So that leaves thinking . . . thinking and typing. But I don't like to actually process thoughts here. It's to messy, like cleaning a buffalo, I'd much rather present you with the train of though, dressed and cleaned, the choice cuts displayed up front. But tonight I'm thinking thru my fingers, processing on the screen.

Met a lot of new people last night - lots of names - lots of connections.

Do you ever meet people that awaken parts of yourself - parts that have been lying asleep, dormant for years. Interest's that you've forgotten you had - you see how much they love something and you remember having that same love and wonder where it ever went. The more you talk, the more you listen, the more you remember. And you begin to realize that it never went away, it changed, was redirected, found new outlets - but it never left. You just needed to be reminded, to be awoken.

There are days where I am ready
There are days where I am eager
There are days where I am determined


I love the whirlwind.