The Moose Mug

Do you ever see something that is pretty irrelevant, but for some reason it stirs a desire for creativity up inside of you?  I think I am a bit desperate for creativity right now.  The last couple months of work have been a bit of a grind and I have been feeling restless in part because I have struggled to carve out any time in my day for me (read: not posting a blog for nearly a month).  Learning to function in all the different roles I have as a man has not always been an easy transition and the journey from boy to man has been full of potholes, twists, turns and changes.  Adaptation is the key.  Adaptation, I suck at.  My wife will tell you, my family will tell you, my employees will tell you - I can plot a course with the best of them and I can put my nose to the grindstone and push through challenging times - what is tough for me is to course correct, to adjust, to adapt.

Before Ang and I started dating, we were really good friends and had been for a couple of years.  We always enjoyed being around each other, enjoyed similar things and had a penchant for laughing a lot and having great conversations.  I always really enjoyed spending time with her.  That is the mode I was in with her...great friends.  Well when the opportunity presented itself to start dating, I hesitated because we were such good friends.  I was so stuck in that mindset that I struggled to see the opportunity I had to start a relationship with a truly amazing girl.  I could have easily missed the chance save for the grace of God and the wisdom of my Dad..."Ry, girls like Ang don't come around very often, she is really special and you better figure out how you feel about her before it is too late."  Thanks Pops - good advice!  It is like when I finally make my mind up on something there is no stopping me, but until that light bulb comes on I am living in the dark.

So, back to the moose mug.  I was working an opening shift on the Friday after Thanksgiving...we opened at 3:10am to a line of 10 wide eyed, middle aged, women who needed caffeine to propel them into their shopping frenzy.  By the end of my day, I was exhausted, worn out and excited to get back to my family who was hanging out in Hood River.  I walked by the Moose Mug (a thick, brown, sturdy, manly mug with a white moose image on front) and it stirred something in me .  It reminded me of a time when I used to live a portion of my life outdoors.  The trips into the wild with Paul and Ty are memories I cherish because there was a wild and untamed aspect to them.  They remind me of a time when irresponsibility and spontanaetiy predominated my life - don't get me wrong, I wouldn't go back to that season of my life, but I feel a need to reconnect to the heart of the man who was living then.  I feel like I need to reconnect with the "wild man" who would camp, hike, fish and smoke his pipe. 

When I got home and my wife discovered the new mug (which further clogs our cupboards - we have one whole shelf dedicated to coffee mugs which is an undeniable pitfall of working at a coffee shop) and asked me about it and all I could say is that it is my "writing mug."  What the heck is a writing mug?  Well for me it is something that inspires me to carve out time to create something - to harken back to the wild man - to live an adventure.  I find that in my creativity I most closely resemble the heart of the Creator, in whose image I have been formed.  So here I sit, writing, while my wife is at work and our little one rests up for a day of crawling, talking, laughing, and living -  I am enjoying some Christmas Blend and the adventures my moose mug reminds to discover.  What inspires you?  Where or to whom do you look for that feeling of transcendence that allows you to reflect on your life and project into your future?

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Storyteller

In my last blog, I wrote about captivity and about my desire to be a part of setting people free - more specifically about how my calling fits into the greater framework of Christ's calling as found in Isaiah 58.  While still a work in progress, some things are beginning to take shape ever so slowly.  I still feel like I am walking into the fog, but occasionally a glimmer will be provided, a sight on the horizon, a quick picture of what lies ahead.  I think this is God's grace; His providence in my life, urging me forward and reminding me that great things lie ahead.

I like telling stories.  In college, my roommate Paul and I would go back and forth telling stories and entertaining ourselves and others along the way.  Stories are powerful.  Inside of a story lies truth, but that truth is packaged in a narrative which allows us to project ourselves into the story, relate with the truth found there and more readily digest truth into our lives.  Jesus used stories when describing life with God and in relating everyday life to the larger story (metanarrative) that overarches the story of humanity.  I have an inkling that storytelling may be a part of what lies ahead for me.  Not so much in the traditional sense of the word, I don't think there are any jobs out there as a storyteller, but framing truth is something I am very interested in. 

When someone shares their story something powerful happens.  The teller and the listener are somehow intrinsically connect in a new way - to tell your story is to expose yourself - to expose your innermost longings and desires.  To tell your story is to risk and where risk dwells, beauty follows closely behind.  I say this because in each of us lies a story of paramount importance - an unfolding of events Divinely authored and played out on a stage that is encompasses our lives.  Many of us don't embrace this story; instead we fight it, struggling against our reality because the miss the beauty than runs so deeply within it.

This morning I am spending some time reflecting on my story because as I look ahead and strive towards something greater, something better, something life giving I am reminded by the voice deep within that the best way to determine my path ahead is to know understand my trajectory.  That trajectory takes into effect where I have been, where I am at, and to where I am pointed.  I all too readily forget where I have come from, forget the provision of God, suffering from a sort of selective amnesia where somehow the events of my life get reinterpreted in such a way that I am left to suspect I am alone in this venture as I have been all along.  This gross misrepresentation takes place when I forget my story, when I fail to remember the times I have been rescued, the times I have been redeemed and made new and the times when I was hurting and broken and in need of simple kindness and gentle love.  I need to remember - my life and my future depends on my ability to remember what has happened - more pointedly to remember how He has happened over and over in my life, and undeniably so.  This is the overarching story we tie into, the profound and endless love of God demonstrated through Christ, revealed daily, and determined solely by His grace.

 Stories are how Jesus taught us to understand God.  Stories connect us.  Stories are powerful and everyone has one.  How will yours read?  

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Setting Free the Captive Heart

Captivity is defined as the state or period of being imprisoned, confined, or enslaved.  Our hearts are said to been held captive until Christ came to set the captives free, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to proclaim the favor of God (favor can also be defined as grace) Isaiah 58.  I am trying to gain a better understanding of what a calling is, and what my calling might be; this is a topic of great importance to me right now as I delve into a new chapter of life with the hope of aligning myself with God's best intent for my story.  I think a calling is like an invitation, it can be rejected, ignored, missed, or accepted and I believe our calling is both general and specific.

It's general in the sense that we are called to love well, act with compassion, mercy and grace, and to exude the character of God in all that we do.  It is a tall order and one that will not always be upheld perfectly, but that only points us to our unending need of Love Himself.  Without being connected to Love, how well can I love?  On a more specific note, our calling should be defined in light of Christ's calling, as we are always and completely defined in light of Him.  His sacrifice has forever defined us as forgiven, loved and welcomed into the family of God.  We are now able to exist in union with God and eventually in perfect union with Him.  As mentioned earlier, Christ's calling was to set the captives free, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to proclaim the favor of God.  I have been asking myself where my life, my calling fits under this umbrella and I am really drawn to setting the captives free.  I want my life to be about that.  I would die a very happy man if I could look back on my life and be convinced that as a result of knowing the Lord in a way that allowed me to express His heart to others, people who's hearts were being held captive now live free.

Our hearts are held captive by so many things.  We strive for the appearance of success, happiness, and meaning.  We are insecure about the way we look, unsure about what our lives should be about, and we spend much of our time distracting ourselves by being "so busy."  Our captivity stems from the brokenness that lies deep within all of us - from what went wrong in the garden.  We lost our innocence, our trust in our Maker, and we were left broken - merely a shell of what we were intended to be.  Regaining that glory, what we were intended to be, is possible through a relationship with God, but it does not come easily.  Nothing will be attacked with more vengeance, no schemes or devices will be left unturned and no opportunity for destruction will be spared.  To regain our glory is to break the power of deception - a power that cripples our ability to trust God and to live a life of faith. 

Our faith is undermined when we find ourselves unable to trust.  I want to be about helping people regain this glory.  Captivity is broken when we regain our glory and our glory is regained when we are redefined in light of the glory of Christ.  His glory is infused into us through His actions at the cross.  Read Romans 6:4-7

Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection, knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; for he who has died is freed from sin.

  I want to help people understand that God loves them.  Don't gloss over that.  God loves us.  This is great news and even better when we consider His love has no strings, no contingencies, no gimmicks, no self-centered motives, and absolutely no half-heartedness.  I hope my life can be about spreading the truth about God's heart for His people in order that our lives might be altered, undone, transformed.  If you really believed you were loved, not because of anything you did or didn't do, not because of how much good you have done and not because you lived a good life, how would your life look?  What would you change?  What striving would cease?  What hopes would emerge from the depths of your soul?  Could it be true - is there a love so exacting and so personal?

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Thwarted

I love being a Dad - I  love the giggles and wiggles and when I see my little girl, I see the beauty of creation and remember how fortunate I am.  I am a blessed man - I have a beautiful family and a wife who loves me more than I could ever deserve.  Life, as beautiful and full of joy as it is sometimes is also a constant struggle.  I feel resistance around every corner and nothing seems to be coming easily.  I feel like I am being thwarted...by God.

You have to understand something about me - I can't not plan - it is like this innate thirst inside of me that won't be quenched without a gameplan.  Part of that is growing up in a family of planners - we are already discussing plans for Christmas and knew what we were doing on Halloween by the time September rolled around.  My job is a great outlet for that because all day long I plan and execute - it is probably 80% of what I do.  I am in the process of re-learning that planning my life is not always a fruitful endeavor.  I knew this once, but somewhere along the way believed again that planning my life could somehow hedge me against the riskiness of risk itself (interesting how I have to learn things more than once - the simpler the concept the more readily I seem to forget its applications).  This is where the thwarting comes in to play.

I am wrestling with God - well its really more of me running around in my life and God waiting for me to stop so He can give me the direction I say I so desperately want.  I am like a little kid hopped up on pixie stix, zooming around, trying to figure out what to do next.  Eventually, I may even exhaust myself enough that I will stop and listen.  It's not that I don't try - if anything I try too hard, but somehow, deep inside my own broken humanity lies a will that still thinks I can make it on my own.  Nonetheless, Ang and I are talking to each other and to God about what He has next for us and right now it feels like we are putting our hearts out on our sleeves and hearing nothing...just crickets...  We seem to catch a glimmer of an idea that ignites something but then as quickly as the fire starts, its extinguished.  We just can't seem to find our way right now.  Life feels a bit like walking out of my house for the first time in the morning into a thick bank of fog - I just feel disoriented.

Concocting a plan that seems like something God might have for us and branding our plans with His name is always going to be easier than truly waiting.  I am impatient and times, but today, I thanked God for His thwartiing ways.  He is truly my guide on this journey and at times I am so far off the trail that I need some thwarting, some resistance, and some "gentle" corrections to my course.

I am asking God for direction, but more importantly for the courage to follow Him.  I don't know what lies around the next bend in the road of this journey for our family, but I am excited, I sense it is something truly grand.  I sense it is something worthy of the calling God has on our lives.  I sense it will require much, but I sense it will exceed our highest hopes. 

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Looking For a New Book

So recently I finished the books I was reading and though I am still entrenched in "The Brothers Karamazov" I am on page 53 of 833 and am seriously wondering if I have the stamina for it right now.  Wondering if anyone out there has a recommendation?? 

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Mystery is History

As I wrote about in my last post, a longing for adventure is hard wired into each of our souls.  I believe that this longing is intimately connected with our view of the world around us.  Our sense of adventure is directly proportional to the mystery we allow to exist in the world around us.  This is not a fool's mystery that could be explained but instead is not, this is genuine mystery, the unknown, ideas and concepts that are beyond us and therefore draw us out into a story much larger and more grand than are own.  A story that encompasses ours but is not limited to its confines.

As we began to lose our sense of wonder and awe, the world became automated, robotic, predictable even - except that its not.  Somewhere along the way mysteries were studied, dissected, analyzed and put back together so that we could build formulas in an attempt to remove elements of the unknown - except we now know less than we knew then.  We fear mystery.  We avoid the unknown.

I know I do - my actions declare rather boldly that I would prefer to control life rather than experience it.  I try to fit God into my pocket to be carried around like a talisman instead of seeing Him as a shepherd, One who longs to guide and direct me along the path of my life.  The concept that our life on this Earth is one of mystery is unsettling to us because to grasp the mysterious life requires us to fully trust. Adventure cannot be had in a controlled environment - doesn't work that way.  Control negates adventure.  Mystery is the petri dish whereby adventure can be cultivated - without mystery there is no adventure to embark on.

Oftentimes we choose to control our lives because when we have control, we cannot be caught off guard or surprised, but rather remain in the driver's seat always knowing.  Why is it such a big deal for us to always know?  Knowledge is powerful but not singularly.  Knowing what you will do in ten years can be helpful, but it can also be limiting.  This is one of my greatest struggles.  I want to know where my foot is going to land before I pick it up to take a step.  I think that by knowing, somehow I will gain power over the successfullness of the outcome and therefore miss most of the entire point.  My Father is less interested in where my foot is going to land and is more interested in whether or not I will try to take a step - where that step takes me is secondary.  The point is the step, the point is the journey, the point is the process of learning to trust enough to take a step and not know where the next one will take you.  Peter would never have gotten out of the boat had he worried himself with where he was going to put his foot (on top of the water ended up working out just fine).  If he had worried about where he was going to step, he would have deduced that his foot had nowhere to go and therefore he could not possibly take a step.  Instead, he saw Christ, chose to follow and allowed Him to take care of the rest. 

This sounds warm and fuzzy but I do not intend it to sound that way.  Trust is ugly, faith is awfully messy at times because it requires that we voluntarily release control and choose vulnerability, something our society has not trained us to do.  In our me-first culture, nothing is more counterintuitive than choosing to be vulnerable, than choosing to embrace the unknown in hopes that you will be met there.  Our inability to be self sufficient demostrates our great need - our striving to run solo anyways demonstrates our great pride and desire for control, but taking an opportunity to relinquish control, to choose surrender, to choose to embrace the unknown demostrates our profoundly unique ability to trust.  To trust is to embrace mystery, to embrace mystery is to open oneself to an opportunity for adventure.

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Sense of Adventure

I  was working on my next blog this morning while Olivia happily crawled around the carpet squealing and looking at everything she could feast her eyes on.  She would touch the wall ever so deliberately as if she was trying to determine exactly how it felt and as she went from one item to the next, her eyes slowly fixed upon the door that was cracked partially open.  The opening was maybe an inch wide but it was like a screaming invitation to an adventure, to something grand, to the unknown.  Olivia quickly began making her way over to the door that was ajar and as she drew near she slowed and peaked inside ever so cautiously to see what lay behind the door.  She gently urged the door open and made her way inside where a wonderland of amusement, mystery, and excitement awaited her.  She found her way to...her room.

My daughter's sense of adventure is alive and well and her ripe imagination allows everything in her world to experienced to the fullest.  I can remember times in my life when I viewed my life as an adventure.  A time when the happenings of my day were significant on a more reaching scale than my own mere amusement, a time when it seemed there were invitations to grandeur around every corner and a time when I felt alive.  I think I see my life a bit less like an adventure now.  If I had to describe that time with an image, I felt like I was standing on a mountain overlooking an open plain, and now I still feel like I am on the mountain only I have lost the horizon and am looking only at the ground in front of me.  I need to look up, I need to see where I am going, but I fear that breaking from my current state may leave me realizing I have lost my way. 

My heart longs for a new adventure - life has been so full this past year with us buying a house, having a baby, working, and gettting used to being parents.  For awhile, it seemed that the adventure would be becoming parents - but that's missing the mark.  Where it is wild and crazy being a parent, the adventure for Ang and I must lie in doing something, in being a part of something truly grand and worthwhile.

Let me think about adventures for a second...what makes a great adventure? A great adventure has an interesting plot, something captivating and compelling; it has a series of obstacles that must be overcome (nothing great enough to be deemed an adventure comes without resistance right!), there must be a company of people (a brotherhood, companion, company, someone to share the journey with), it must be something worth laying everything on the line for - there must be a risk/reward in there somewhere and an adventure must change the adventurer in some way.  No great adventure leaves a person unchanged.  I want this.  I want an adventure.  I love my family and I like our life well enough at times but it leaves me yearning for something that really gets my blood pumping, something that compels me and something that I feel like is worthy of the short amount of time we have here on Earth.

I want to feel like Olivia must have felt when she saw that door cracked open.  Curiosity, wonder, mystery - these things gripped her little heart and she went searching for what lay behind the door.    

I want that anticipation.  I want that sense of intrigue.  I want that adventure.   That's my prayer.

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Thoughts on TIme

Our idea of time has gotten me thinking lately.  I have been paying closer attention to the metaphors we use to discuss time and its place in our day to day lives.  By nature, metaphors reveal and conceal things - basically they describe things but not perfectly or completely.  By drawing comparisons between time and other things, we learn more about some aspects of time but also realize that by shedding light on some aspects of time we cast a shadow on others.  The dynamic is at work the most when we try to describe elements of our lives that are somewhat abstract, intangible, or difficult to grasp.

So back to time.  We frequently use the metaphor, "time is money."   Think about how many money metaphors we use when talking about time.  To name a few, "how should I spend my time,"I want to invest my time in important matters,"I can save time by doing it a different way, "I need to better manage my time."  There are hundreds of different ways we utilize the metaphor "time is money."  I catch myself using this metaphor multiple times everyday, but I finally stopped to wonder one day - Is that really true?  Do I really think of time and money as being that similar?  In our society we are really focused on getting ahead, on making money, and therefore tend to be materialistic by nature.  I wonder if this idea of time is driven by our materialism.  I want to think of my time as something to enjoy, to experience, to exist in - not something to spend because then I am concerned with the return on my investment.  Namely, that whatever of whoever I spend my time on must make it worthwhile by giving me a return.

I am not sure how to think about time, but I know it requires more thoughtfulness on my part.  I wonder too, if we feel unproductive in part because of how we think about time as something we spend, invest, or use.  Therefore if we are not spending, investing or using it in a way that yields a return, it seems like a waste.  That sounds like a far cry from love and an even further cry from my heart.

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Wondering about Wonder

When did we lose our sense of wonder?  When did we start looking at a sunset and forget to actually see it?  I watch Olivia and she is fascinated by the strangest things.  She can't get enough of ears and feet lately.  She shrieks when she sees them and will climb over anything and everything to get a closer look or taste :)  Watching her experience her world for the "first" time makes me think, when did my world become so drab?  Feet and ears don't fascinate me anymore, well except for the ears of old men when they get huge, hairy and kind of floppy (its a badge of honor I look forward to carrying)- I just learned the other day that your ears never stop growing, I wonder why.  My world has become normal, I daresay even mundane at times - that is CRAZY.  How can a world full of beauty and mystery become commonplace? 

One of my favorite documentaries is the Planet Earth series.  The series takes the viewer to places all over Earth - places I could never even imagine seeing.  One episode explores the depths of the oceans, where new species continue to be discovered every year.  Strange animals live there, with glowing translucent features, and appendages that appear to be straight out of a bad sci-fi movie.  Another explores the great rivers of the world and in particular shows rivers running red in Alaska as millions of salmon return to the exact location their lives began in order to spawn.  It is one of the most incredible feats in all creation right alongside the migration of millions of animals across the deserts and savannahs of Africa.  I am inspired to go and see for myself.  I realize how little of this world I have seen with my own eyes and I am propelled towards visions of seeing the sunset across the ocean, and watching it rise across the crest of a mountain - to see the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall, the Pyramids in Egypt, to see an Elephant in the wild, or a great migration of birds.  I am reminded of how little my world is when I think of how little I have seen.  Those are only places and things don't even get me started on the different people groups of this world - beauty in every corner of the earth.

I fear that I get up everyday and look at the world around me and am no longer astonished by what I see.  Olivia lives in a state of nearly eternal surprise...and delight.  She stops everything to examine a doorknob, and is taken back by the sound of rain hitting a window.  When she sees a person she has never seen before she begins to study their features and with a squeal, she announces her presence.  Something just does not add up.  If the world is truly full of beauty and mystery, and yet my vantage point yields normalcy and boredom - something is off, broken perhaps.  I think its me.  I think I may be broken.  I know I may never look at a doorknob the way Olivia does, but I sense I may be seriously lacking some imagination when it comes to the world around me.  Where did my imagination go?  Unfortunately because I am often so self absorbed I miss something incredible because it does not fit into my ideals.  I think the next time it rains, I will try to be less annoyed at getting wet and instead experience the sillyness of water falling from the sky.

The world around me screams of beauty.  How can I spend even a single moment missing that?  I want to regain my sense of wonder; I want to be in awe of something truly grand; I long to be caught up in something far more reaching than my little cubicle of a world.  Tonight I will ask the Author for eyes that can see the world He created in all its splendor and glory.  I long to be amazed.  Tomorrow when I wake I will see the sunrise... perhaps for the first time.

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Give it a Rest

I am weird.  I opened at my store today - that's 4am - and yet here I am out to coffee again at 8pm thanks to Ang who is doing bedtime solo tonight with Olivia (Thanks!).  There is something about drinking a hot cup of coffee, listening to music, and losing myself in thought.  As I relax and allow my mind the room to stretch out, my heart begins to be drawn into another world.  I wander off to a place as beautiful as the sun setting across a sky littered with mountains and trees.  The music is like a - well normally its a sweet sound but right now its Barbara Streisand - WHAT!  How is this playing right now?  Well Plan B good thing I have some Death Cab for Cutie (they are not nearly as weird as their name suggests) on my computer - that's more like it.  I feel like its a place where my heart can breathe. 

In our world quietness is going out of style, right alongside rest.  As we cram more into our days and lives we end up with less, we lose the depth that life offers.  In a place with no talking, where I am left alone with my thoughts I am slowly lead out to a place of peace, of solitude, of rest,  It is often in this place that I sense the words of the Father gently penetrating my heart.  Loving, tender, honest words -the kind that resonate deep within and leave me changed, undone.  I feel like this when I have my flyfishing gear and I am out in the middle of a river, serenaded by the rushing water, so loud it blocks out every other noise.  The river's roar silences the noise in my life in a strange way - freeing me to enjoy the structured cadence of my casting and the way the fly slowly drifts onto the water.  When I fish, its rarely about the fish, its more often about the way that fishing quiets my insides, stills my soul, and molds my perspective into that of my Maker.   

Rest is critical because it creates space in our lives.  We are all too comfortable with no space, no time, no breathing room.  We live on the proverbial hamster wheel and seem all too at home there, running at breakneck speed through our life until something intervenes and forces us to stop.  I see it everyday at work- the stress, the frenetic frenzied frantic pace of peoples' days and I am no different, but it does make me wonder - for what?  For what purpose are we so consumed with activities?  What are we afraid of missing out on?  What are we afraid of seeing in ourselves if we take the time to stop and look?  Certain types of poetry and music function most precisely when natural rests are built in, breathing points, places to stop and allow truth, or beauty, or wonder to set in.  God rested in the midst of Creation.  Why can't I stop and rest?

 If some things are more beautiful with space, with breaks, with rest then I wonder if my life would be richer and more beautiful with a bit of the same medicine.  Maybe that's the way it was designed to be - I think I will give that a shot.

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A Walk and a Fight

Ang and I got in a fight the other day.  A fight for each other - not with each other.   The best kind of fight you can get into as husband and wife.  We talked a lot about dreams and about what stands in our way.  She, as always, was unwavering in her support of my dreams and hopes for the future, reaffirming her belief in me and in what my heart longs for.  I am amazed by her.  The journey of discovering your heart and connecting its longings is filled with potholes, obstacles and resistance - encouragement is essential along the way and she provides it in spades.  I am spurred on when I know someone believes in me.

We have been on this walking kick lately (I think we are trying to get out as much as possible before the winter rains set in) and it has been such a great chance for us to talk and discuss ideas and encourage each other.  It's not always easy to find time for those things as a new parent.  We have both felt pretty overwhelmed at times to the point where it's easy to lose track of things - especially your heart.   

As I alluded to in my profile, I am gradually beginning to uncover some areas of my heart that had been collecting dust for awhile.  Writing this blog is just one of my attempts to transform the dustbowl into a reservoir.  Neglecting my heart was one of the worst decisions I have ever made.  Our hearts function like a compass, pointing us in a direction, establishing a course for the days that lie ahead.  As I lost track of my heart I struggled to interpret the events in my life and soon was stuck in an existence mentality where days were meant to be "gotten through" instead of enjoyed.  Disconnected from my heart, I felt like I was drifting along until finally a deep and pervading space was undeniably prevalent inside of me.  The space just sat there, empty - it was the kind of void that can't be filled, save for the genuine longings of your heart.  I am still in the middle of the struggle to regain my heart - it is a daily battle - one void of any shortcuts or any attempts to fake.  As I draw nearer to the Author of all those yearnings and longings, the space is gradually replaced with hope, anticipation, dreams, creativity, trust, and a newfound awareness of the world around me.  I keep thinking I will arrive at some point soon - get to a place where I understand, where my world is full of clarity and where suddenly the puzzle begins to take shape.  I am just now beginning to wonder if perhaps that time is not going to come.  I think somewhere in the struggle to find my heart, I will begin fighting a different fight.  Now that I am rediscovering my heart - the new challenge will be to keep it alive.  I know of only one Way. 

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Path of Least Resistance

In physics, the path of least resistance is a rule that describes the movement of objects through a system.  We know this intuitively in that, water tends to want to travel downhill not uphill and electricity flows through a circut in a path where the resistance is the least.  I behave a lot like that most of the time - trying to find a path of least resistance - and I miss out on so much.

Our culture seems to define what is right or what is good synonomously with what is easy.  The idea that the path of least resistance is the best path for us to take simply misses the point of the journey altogether.  When I look back on the times in my life that have been richest, and most full of life - the ones where I have grown and been challenged, I notice that resistance has been an active participant every step along the way.  Resistance is critical to growth.  Anybody who strives to be in shape realizes this because our muscles are developed through overcoming resistance.  However, a longing exists inside of me to rest, to cease striving, to simply be.  My longing can be satisfied momentarily through a day off, a vacation, time with family or friends, or a chance to pursue a passion.  In the end though, the feeling keeps coming back manifesting iteself in statements like, "I'm exhausted", "I need a break", or simply, "I'm done,"  The true source of the longing is for not just a reprieve, but a cure.  The longing points towards a reality in heaven where everything but existing in the presence of our Maker vanishes.

I bring up heaven because until I put my longing in an eternal perspective it's meaning is difficult to ascertain.  Eventually, a path free of obstacles, hindrances, restrictions and resistance does await me - but that time is not now.  Now, what stares me in the face is a life ripe with resistance and the crazy thing is - its actually good.  Call it a trial, call it refining fire, you can even call it a trial by fire - but the truth is this resistance is meant to be embraced not avoided.   My journey abounds with resistance.  As Ang and I try to sell our house, as I try to sift through the fog surrounding my heart, as I try to understand what story my Creator has written for my life, as I try to understand what it means to be a father, a husband, a man - resistance is everywhere always trying to funnel me back towards ease of motion.  I have to actively engage the resistors that have been set before me because somewhere in that challenge is truth, somewhere in that challenge is life. 

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Crosswalks

"Everything changes when you have a kid."  I heard that so many times while my wife was pregnant as people shared their advice and wisdom for us before we set out on the journey of parenthood.  Boy is it ever true.  I don't think I have ever paid much attention to crosswalks before Olivia came into my life.  I would drive through them without much thought, roll through them as I turned right at a stoplight and even avoided them when I was crossing the street.  My relationship with crosswalks has forever changed. 


Walking downtown with Ang and Olivia last weekend, I clapped at a car that drove through a crosswalk that we were walking through.  It was completely illogical as I am not sure if I expected to create a sonic boom that would stop the 1 ton car in its tracks - I guess I was simply making a point.  Ang thought I was making a joke as she proceeded to clap at random cars for the rest of the day as the giggles overwhelmed her.  In fairness to her my clap (just one hard clap) was REALLY random especially since I aimed it at the passing car - no words came to me and I wanted to reach out and stop the car with one hand to remind the driver that I was pushing a stroller with my kid in it.  However, in the moment my hard clap felt like the right move. 


Just yesterday we were out taking a walk in the morning and on our way to get some coffee we came to a stop at the dreaded crosswalk.  My wife gracefully passed on the opportunity to remind me of "the clap" as it is now referred to in our home.  As we waited, 2 cars drove right past us.  I started wildly waving my arms,  as the third car approached and he managed to acknowledge me with a wave of his hand as he proceeded through the apparently invisible crosswalk.  Needless to say my frustration began to mount.  A fourth driver, completely oblivious to our family waiting for him to stop drove me to action - I one-upped my last attempt.   I waved my arms, yelled "CROSSWALK" and pointed to the crosswalk.  Ang turned bright red and chose to walk about 20 yards ahead of me as the car abruptly came to a stop.  I walked through the intersection feeling no shame, only an abiding sense of pride at accomplishing my feat of stopping the car so my girls could safely cross.  I smiled to myself.  Now Ang has two things that can make her laugh any time she thinks of them. 


I can't figure out why I care so much about crosswalks all of a sudden, but to deny my frustration would be dishonest.  I guess I now have a mission to fulfill - something has awakened in my man heart and I will ensure my family can always safely cross the street at the crosswalk.  I know. I am ridiculous :).   

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Seasons Changing

One of my favorite times of year is rapidly approaching...Fall. I love the beautiful colors and the cool crisp air that replaces the heat of summer. Fall is one of those times where I am reminded that death is just part of the cycle. As the vibrancy of green slowly turns to warmer hues of red and orange, I'm reminded of what follows. Winter always seems so barren, cold, rainy (especially here in Portland), and harsh. The days are short and the darkness long - I never look forward to winter.


My life right now mirrors these seasons as certain pieces are stripped away in accordance with God's plans and natural life processes, I know I will be left wondering what happened to the beauty that defined my life. The empty branches are a reminder, a promise of sorts that better things are yet to come - that life is always preceded by death. This is simply a plain truth. A seed falls to the ground, dying and eventually being laid open in the soil of the earth only to begin sprouting back up from the earth in a sort of cyclical dance.


Life is this way for all of us I suppose - its just I wish sometimes that my life was always about growth, about adding, about expanding and bulding on what has already been established. I strive stubbornly for this in every aspect of my life - relationships, work, spirituality - I fight the natural cycles because I don't see them for what they are. I lack faith and think that when the time for Fall comes that I may never see Spring again. However, Spring is beautiful in part because Winter is so barren. I want my life to always be like Spring time - God desires to take me through seasons. Seasons reveal things to me about me that I could never see otherwise.


When the leaves are stripped away I can see my life much more plainly - almost painfully so at times and I am reminded of those things I should cling to. I yearn to be faithful in all things and in all seasons, appreciating each for what it brings and each for what it teaches me. I think this Fall I shall learn more about myself as God removes the trimmings, lays my heart bare and then brings restoration and fullness of life in due time.

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Recovering Dreams

I have always considered myself a dreamer although lately my heart has been quiet. Lately I am more entrenched in "reality" which is just a more sophisticated way of describing my inability to imagine. Imagination has always served me well because it creates a space in my heart where the seeds of vision can germinate, drawing my life down a path where it intersects with opportunity. Call it divine intervention, making your own break, or simply chance - I believe opportunities occur when trust defines our hearts.

I fear my creativity and imagination have been stifled by duty and obligation - those things that suffocate our hearts. I caught myself saying "should" at least 15 times today - such a guilt ridden word. Fearing that I may fall prey to the hamster wheel mentality, I am setting out on a journey to rediscover my heart. I am amazed at how far I have strayed from my heart. I struggle to know what I desire, I find myself settling at every turn for the "lesser thans" and I hardly even recognize I am doing so until after the fact. I am equal parts discouraged, pissed off, confused and hopeful. The latter is finally beginning to gain some traction as I pursue those things that truly make my heart come alive.

As the layers of dust are slowly removed from my heart I trust that new vision will take shape inside me and that the dreams will return. Dreaming is scary business - it is so much easier to settle for something good than to strive for something grand. I am stuck firmly between the two. On the one hand I am content in my job - I am proud of what my team and I have accomplished and truly enjoy the people I work with and the customers I have come to know over the past 2.5 years. However, there is this constant tugging in my heart to rise to the occasion and pursue something truly great.

Having been disconnected from my heart I wrestle with what that something is - I am amazed at how I was taken out of the game so easily by a clever adversary who knows how to bend truth into deception. I feel like the awkward teenager at the school dance - wanting to dance, to have a good time, but not knowing if I am supposed to jump in and dance or wait to be invited. I think to myself, "just go for it," but confidence can't be fabricated and neither can faith - faith either overflows from the heart or runs dry. Faith will overflow once again, but first it needs some room to grow in my heart.

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Delight of My Heart

Delight. My heart sings this chorus every time I lay eyes on my little girl - it helps that she greets me with a crooked, toothless grin, her face creasing at the corners as she squints with an ever widening smile. Her smile joins forces with a squeaking, squealing greeting that draws a smile from deep inside - the kind that can't be taken away even in the midst of a challenging day.


The love I have for her was previously unknown to me - a love so inherent and unyielding. When I met her face to face for the first time, something shifted in my being and I knew that regardless of what transpired over the course of my life or hers, nothing could ever alter or stymie my desire to ensure that she would always know what it means to be loved. I hoped my love would provide a shelter and safe haven for her, a place where even if chaos permeated every aspect of her life, she could find safety in my love, find protection in my provision, and rest soundly knowing she will never lack or go without. I ache thinking of the struggles she will face and I glow knowing the heights to which she will soar. I know my thoughts towards her are no different than any other parents' towards their child, but they are extraordinary. Not because they are mine, but because of why I feel that way - its woven into the fiber of my being - down to my core.

Two weeks ago I had a thought that has marked me. I sensed my Father uncovering a forgotten promise, "I love you, just like that.". I wish I lived like I believed that - life would look so different. Nothing more to earn, no need to be perfect - just an invitation to be...loved.

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