I am...

I am a child of half-measures.
I am a product of lost love.
I am a student of procrastination.
I am a daughter of sin.
I am a lover of words of which I never string together.
I am a seeker of truth who tires easily.
I am a runner whose road always ends.
I am a dark figure who carries a lamp.
I am a winner who never enters a race.
I am a wanderer who never stills.
I am a viewer of injustice, who remains a spectator.
I am apart from the vine.
I am all of nothing.
I am filled with dust.

He is the vine.
He is all of everything.
He is filled with everlasting water.

I stretch out my hand and bring to my chapped lips, His water.
I become. I hope to always become.
I am a snake who has shed its skin.

I am a seeker of His love.

This I Recommend.

"We slept better than kings on soft beds of pine needles, next to a clear-running Appalachian river. My new alarm clock, the sun, woke us the next morning, warming us as it filtered through the giant pine trees."

"On foot, in a van, on a fleet motorcycle or on a bicycle, a person must be very careful not to become overly concerned with arriving."

Good Stuff. I just started reading it so I can't tell you much except this pretty hard core guy who his parents named, Peter Jenkins, takes a walk across America. So I guess the title's pretty self explanatory.

Shabbat Shalom.

exhaustion

I thought college was supposed to fill my mind with new and exciting ideas. I thought because of my groundbreaking and world changing thoughts I would be effusive with my speech and various ideologies.

I was not prepared however, for the life sucking, debilitating powers that the collegiate institution holds over me. I am a shell of my former self and my once bouncing and happy brain cells are now lagging across my cerebral base unable to utter a syllable let alone another word.

Words collide and crash against each other. Every sentence jumbled until its ideas are unrecognizable. Electrical circuits in my mind are going haywire and I haphazardly try to repair them.

Deadline, due dates are the death of me and my heart trembles in anticipation of the coming days. The shades from my window are lifted and the bright sun taunts me with its unencumbered rays. My bike sits lonely against a wooden stake and the crisp air calls my name. Yet, my bottom has become one with my desk chair and my fingers are now grafted unto the white keyboard. My eyes are blood shot from looking at the artificial light of my computer screen.

Ideas? What are those? Freedom? What concept is that? I must tailor my thoughts to those of my professors in pursuit of that ever elusive, primitive, and worthy, 'A'. My heartbeats are erratic. My brain fizzles with foreign thoughts. And my body lies awake into the depths of the dark night in search of it.

Twisted Wires

My room is dark and quiet. Garage voice is playing through the speakers of my computer. I should be outside enjoying the weather and God's creation but my eyelids are heavy and my pillow beckons me. I write now because my mind is sluggish yet unsettled and that's always a sign that something needs to be said. The wires in my brain are crossed and the connection is fuzzy. I don't know whether to think about God's intimate nature, the fact that He is a friend, why sometimes I don't feel Him, or why when I want to be lead I don't feel like He is leading. The little man in my brain is jumping from one area to the next and trying to write down all my thoughts but their going so fast all he has so far are sentence fragments. Which we all know are not good.

I don't think I have anything to say right now. Or maybe it's just I have too much but none of it will come out clearly. I'll try to wade through the dark and murky waters of my mind. In the mean time I'll show whoever reads this, a bad poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the mind.

A maze, a labyrinth filled with snakes. Burrs line the floor that must be picked up. Hands are pricked, heels are bitten. Hours spent, none of the time lost. Streams of light are at the end. The closer we are to it, the farther we've been. Your destiny is never to reach it, your journey is to always begin.

You dig in the dirt with your calloused hands. A pearl is found under the time worn sands. Rare - the find happens once in a lifetime. Half the sky is night, half is filled with light. You forget which is which. The black man looks white. There is a sweet kiss upon your cheek but it doesn't feel right. The water is murky the depth is deep. I can't breath, I'm drowning beneath questioning heaps.
______________________________

That sounds kind of depressing. It's not meant to be. But like I said it's bad poetry. I hope everyone is having a wonderful Sabbath. God is good. All the time God is good.

A child birthed out of boredom.

I wanted to ride my bicycle today. I wanted to ride it with someone. But everyone was busy.
I felt like having a buddy but there was no buddy to be had.
So here I sit. And here I write. My fingertips hitting the keys and now time has gone by.

I wore black sneakers today and they made my feet smell.
But a shower I'm not allowed because Michelle is in there cleaning. Hence forth, I can't go in.
So my stockinged feet must the ground meet. And the stench will fill my carpet and will make others weep.

My thumb hurts. No. Don't worry it's not a wart. I think I have a splinter. Hey, I'm so excited it's winter!
My nose will be cold. But my hair will look nice. My feet will be frozen. But it's a very small price.
Because winter is lovely. Winter is good. Winter makes me wear a hood.

Maybe I'll put on a ski mask. Make it nice and tight. So I'll look like a criminal. But s'okay, I'm alright.
Michelle just called me. She's done cleaning. So off I go to take a shower and get pretty. Tonight it's vespers.
I know I'll be blessed. So I have to go now. . . get ready and dressed.

STRESS-O

This is the progression of my stress.

Some hair pulling.



More Intense hair pulling.



Breakdown into tears.



Yet I continue to procrastinate. Amazing how procrastination begets more procrastination.

...I spent a half hour on this...

Incandescent and Nonsensical are two of my favorite words.

Randomnessss...

I hate staplers.



I've been running around like a chicken without a head today. It sucked. (Sorry for the creepy picture)




I love love fall.



I really like Jon Foreman's music. New Favorite.



This weekend I have to do Big RA. Ay yai yai. S'okay. God is good. All the time God is good.

Cigars.

I was on a bike ride Sabbath afternoon. I had just been to the lawn concert and it's been such a wonderful Sabbath. And to top it off the sky was gorgeous. It was incredibly blue, there was a breeze and the clouds were so light it seemed like God was puffing out smoke from His cigar. Throughout the week I get so caught up in nothing. Ropes strangle me and tie me down. Ropes disguised as my academic career, exercising, keeping in touch with loved ones, boys or the lack thereof, cleaning my room, bathing, deciding what to wear... the list is endless. None of these things are bad. I'm not saying they are but they do strangle me and can be barriers to my ultimate purpose. Walking with God.

See, the devil is smart. He tries to keep me so preoccupied with good things that I won't have time for the best thing. I'm constantly being cheated. And to relax you think I sit and pray. I wish. I pull out a book or take a nap. My thoughts throughout the day are filled with classes, grades, conversations, but they are not filled with what they long to be filled with. No wonder when Sabbath comes my body heaves a sigh and my mind almost cries with joy. No longer is my state of mind confusion or busyness. My mind wraps around God and the rest He provided. He knew that we would need Sabbath.

I don't think that when we get to Heaven we will stop working. I think we'll be busy. But our thoughts will center around Rest. He is our eternal Rest. Even though we are running the race it is Enoch who went to Heaven because He walked with God. Let us take our time with God. In the midst of our weekdays, in the middle of our classes, while thinking of that certain someone, while writing that retarded paper, keep in mind that we should be ultimately preoccupied with God. Let our minds contemplate on the best thing. Not just on Sabbath when the sky is blue and you think of God smoking a cigar. But every second, of every minute, of every day.