morning sickness



a work of fiction by nathan evans
The young man was counting his possessions again. Nervously organizing stacks of playing cards and covers of paperback books. His eyes find the old man staring at him with a combination of revulsion, pity and frustration. The old man spits on the ground and leans in.
"You know that your stacks of crap there ain't worth a damn thing, right?"
The young man is seemingly hit with an invisible sledge hammer. This was quickly, but not too quickly, covered up with indignation and a wrathful response.
"You can take your money and shove it where the sun don't shine! Oiiyeee! Yeah you old bastard, I'll tell you like it is!"
The old man shakes his head. He starts to reply back when it seems that he thinks better of getting into a shouting match about respect at this un-godly hour in a homeless shelter. Eleven years the old man has been coming to the First Presbyterian Shelter and Soup Kitchen. Eleven years he has been passing out wisdom to the young men who come through his kingdom. Every year he found someone to rant to about the disrespect that these young men would heap on him. Him, who had been here longer than anyone else! Him, who could find you anything you wanted, drugs, booze, women, a job, you name it. Give him three days and he would find it for you. The young man has turned back to his stacking.  The old man turns slightly to talk to the person who is not there and whispers out the side of his mouth,
"Damn druggies...mind is probably fried."
The young man is the only person who hears him. He pauses in his stacking almost imperceptibly. He edges to the other side of his seat. He breathes deeply and hums. He knows that he has never touched a drug, except for the ones he was forced to take. Horse pills. They looked like misshapen birds eggs. Big and white. The young man looked down at his hands. No shaking anymore. The voices didn't leave him alone very much but at least his damn hands didn't shake so much that he couldn't hold on to a soda pop. He glanced at the old man who was now sitting back on his hands and rocking gently back and forth.
"Who the hell does he think he is?" mumbled the young man.
"Ole crack bird been here forever. Thinks he can do miracles, never shuts up about it. I'll show him though, getting my stuff together, going to make my nut."
The last phrase throws the young man back to a far off corner of his memory and of a father who incessantly spoke of making his nut. Hitting it big at the casino or finding his numbers have been called on his ticket. When this never happened, which was weekly and daily, the young man paid for it. Paid for that jackpot the father didn't win with a bottle thrown at his head or a cigarette put out on his unlucky hands. The smell of burnt skin and hair found their way into the young man's nose. The voices became slightly louder. The other people in the shelter became more muffled. The old wants and temptations came back. He eyes the old man with a fervous and cold rage. The old man looks back with a face of contempt that quickly vanishes into slight fear as he gatheres in the young man's pain and coldness. The old man's eyes narrowes and his eleven years of rule quickly stymies his fear of this young usurper.
"Don't you think of pulling anything in here, druggie. This is my place and there would be consequences. You remember who saved you. You remember who I am!"
The self doubt morphed into superiority and delusional power. Memories of the young wife and two small children rushed over him like a spray of boiling water. The thoughts almost physically hurt. He knew he was right. She was in the wrong and she deserved it, deserved what she got. Those two traitorous slags deserved it too. Didn't they understand who he was? He gave them life. He gave them food and shelter. Anything they wanted, he got it for them. Then they went and defended her. They did not stand behind he who ruled. They did not care about justice. The long ago want of punishment and retribution filled the old man like poison being injected into a vein.
The loud speaker on the wall crackles, a beyond bored and monotone voice announces that the line for breakfast may now form against the south wall. All desires are put aside as the all mighty stomach is given it's due. After oatmeal and cheap white toast has been eaten, an unassuming young man sits down at a table in the corner and starts stacking and organizing his playing cards and paperback book covers, his hands are not shaking and the voices had muffled and bowed to the real people. Across the room, an old man sits down to offer his wisdom and services to a new face in The First Presbyterian Shelter and Soup Kitchen.
 

What is going on?

I am not sure sometimes of what if happening around me. I look and hear about things but they do not make sense to me or maybe I do not make sense. It is one of those things.

I see people driving like Burt Reynolds every morning. They ride my butt, put their brights on in my rear view mirror to speed me up? (idiots. don't they know I have this sweet luxury option of flipping my mirror to darken images behind me?) The honk at me, flip me off and yell things at me that I cannot hear. All this is done because I am going 70 miles per hour in the slow lane. I then see them after the exit at the first stop light. I wish I had a pre made sign that reads, "You have just been Tortoised" What do people think when they fly around like bats outta hell? Really when it comes down to it, they MAYBE will save like 2 minutes off their trip. The Des Moines metro area is not very big. What goes on in their heads?

I heard two people talking the other day. In the same sentence, they spoke of how they hate how Obama promotes the murder of unborn children and then how it is a crime how he wants to pull our military out of countries. I agree that we should not kill babies but what about grown ups? War sucks and why would we not want to stop doing it? How can people promote the death of some but not of others? I know you can "make an argument" about how capitol punishment is for people who have "earned" death but in war soooooo many innocent people are killed. How did pro-life and pro-war get put in the same basket? What is going on here?

An offshoot of that...
Recently read an article that made me have to clean off vomit off of my shoes later, because I puked on my shoes after reading it.
http://jme.bmj.com/content/early/2012/03/01/medethics-2011-100411.full
If you do not click on the link and read it, I forgive you. Nobody likes praying to the porcelain god. the main thesis is this, we can literally kill children after they are born because of these reasons.
1. They really are not persons yet. They have not contributed to society yet so then they are not persons. WOW. Can you say slippery slope 5 times fast? I work with mentally disabled people. A lot of them will never "contribute" to society. So we should kill them? Elderly people who stay indoors all day and play pinnacle. They do not contribute to society. Kill them please. Sports commentators tell us things that do not help out our lives or our society. Kill them yes? People who go on the jerry springer show actually make our society regress. Do we chop their heads off? Do you see where I am going with this? A man with an odd little mustache and his cronies came up with this same idea about 80 years ago. They felt that, Jewish people, mentally ill and disabled people, gypsies, homosexuals, and just anyone that didn't fit their Uber Man mold did not contribute to society so it was OK to gas, shoot, burn and well ya...kill all of them.
2. This post-birth abortion is more attractive and better than giving the "unwanted child" up for adoption because a mother will go through so many painful emotions if she knows that somewhere out there is her child that she did not want to raise. However if the child is just killed then her pain will be short and sweet and the mother can move on with life because baby is dead and conveniently taken out back and thrown in a pit. (OK maybe not but there is now vomit on my keyboard and the keys get slick) I do not feel that I need to come up with a rebuttal for this load of shit. I am against killing but I am very much for slapping people.

 

My favorite part of this is that I heard of another person who promoted this similar thing. He said it was a natural population control since apes do this sort of thing. Oh wow, I did not realize that if we could find some action done by animals that we could also do that and be right. I think I may try to eat this guy if I see him.
"Please stop eating my leg!"
"Sorry man, T-Rex ate other dinosaurs and one guy off a toilet, soooo it is just nature's way of dealing with overpopulation."
"Oh well in that case, do try my back straps, they are delightful with cranberry sauce."
And this guy called people who are not for this, a bunch of fascists. What is going on here?

I am so excited for this stupid election to get over with. I really could care less anymore about who wins. The TV ads make me want to punch my own face so as to knock myself out. Maybe that is the point of all these asinine commercials. They make people so angry and sick that they will just stop caring. Well it has worked. It doesn't help that both men running for the Dems and the Repubs are super liars. Both will put us in more debt. Both will taxes my face off. Both will embarrass the United States in front of the world. Both will ignore one or more of the people groups of this country. What is going on here? A lose/lose situation is what is going on.

I hit several tee shots perfectly straight yesterday. That may be the biggest "what is going on" question I have. At least it does not make my shoes dirty.

Well, enough with the negative waves from me. I am going to go resist the urge to bury my head in the sand now.

 

None is better than one

A short piece by Nathan Evans
 The hungry couple sat down in the cafe. They both looked around with that look of anticipation and excitement that comes with being famished and ready to eat.
"What should we order dear?"
"Well, I do not know what this place has to offer. Let us wait for the menu shall we?"
The waiter brought the menu and placed it in front of the couple. His air was of one who has bestowed a grand and glorious gift upon someone.
"Welcome to Cafe Democracy." he practically shouted.
The stars in the waiter's eyes shown with true brilliance and belief. One could not look long into those eyes and not believe that this cafe was indeed the greatest cafe in the world. The hungry couple fell onto their menu with not a selfish ravenous appetite but with a vigor to impress and solidify that indeed this cafe was all it was stacked up to be.
"Gosh honey, I cannot believe our good luck in stopping in here to eat!"
"Yes we are so blessed to be a part of the greatest eatery in the world."
The waiter smiled his knowing smile and placed his reassuring hands on both of their shoulders
"As you can see on the menu, we have a wide selection of options of your palate pleasing delight. We at Cafe Democracy, believe our choices represent what our patrons want and provide the widest, fairest and truest beliefs."
The hungry couple was overwhelmed with pride and thankfulness. They could not wait to order and put their two cents into the best cafe in the world. Even though it was quite beyond them that they ended up in this cafe, both husband and wife became borderline arrogant about their position in this Cafe Democracy.
"Is it not amazing that we the patrons have choices in what this fine establishment serves us?"
"You are so right. I feel such immense pride in this fact and wish for the world that other cafes did this same thing. It feels so right and good for us that I just cannot believe that it would not be right and good for all patrons of all cafes."
The waiter smiled his knowing smile.
"Now you are becoming true patronetes! I thank god you two are joining us in this process of choosing your food and service. I am your humble servant. Please take a look at these all inclusive options we, your humble cafe workers, have laid out for you."
The menus were as elegant and gilded as a menu could be. Each of them had the Cafe Democracy Logo in bossed letters across the top and then below that there was a paragraph that told of the freedom and choices that each patron who dined at Cafe Democracy was entitled to. At the bottom there was a signed promise by the founder of the Cafe that if a patron was not happy with the service provided that new waiters, cooks and bus boys would be placed. This was followed by the following phrase, "Cafe Democracy, more choices, better choices and did we mention any choice you want?" The couple picked them up and gazed in wide wonder at them. They naturally looked around them at other patrons around the cafe. People were pondering their own decisions and talking with their own waiter. To the untrained eye, it looked as if all the patrons were either very excited about their choices or just very calm. The woman finally open her menu up. A perplexed shadow crossed her face. It quickly vanished as the waiter's grip(it was no longer just a hand upon her shoulder) became firmer. The smile was still on his face but the stars in his eyes had lost a little sparkle and became a little sharper. She looked across at her husband who was very happily whistling the cafe theme song while he seemingly scanned his culinary options.
"Excuse me sir, but my menu must be wrong."
The waiter did not smile his knowing smile.
"And how my dear patroness, is your menu wrong?"
"Well...I am not sure where all my options are. I see the promise of more choices and freedoms than other cafes but I only have two menu items. A cheeseburger and a hamburger."
The waiter smiled his knowing smile but there was a dangerous edge to his voice that was not there earlier.
"As you can see, if you were not so ungrateful, that both choices come with a different freedom fry and soft drink."
The man had now looked up with some uncertainty.
"Oh waiter sir, I do not much care for french.." a quick fiery look from the waiter, "oh...ummm I mean freedom fries, either steak house style or waffle cut. Could I have a side of coleslaw with my hamburger?"
The waiter's knowing smile and starry eyes returned.
"Fellow patron, the choice between two types of freedom fries is a basic right that all Cafe Democracy patrons are entitled to. Please do not order in such a way that is un-cafelike, especially with such un-cafe like food options."
"Waiter, I also am unsatisfied with some options. I do not enjoy any sort of soft drinks, I prefer to have iced tea or just water. That is within my freedom and rights, correct?"
"Yes and I am not even sure I want any sort of burger. I have had so many of those in my life that I think a chicken sandwich sounds quite nice."
"The menu is set by cooks who know, my apologies, quite a bit more about food that either of you will ever know. Please choose your menu option now."
The now less hungry couple looked around them again. The other patrons now seemed to have changed. The excited patrons now looked more angry than excited. The calm and serene ones now looked to be more sad and broken. All had burgers or cheese burgers with one of two freedom fries and an extra large soft drink at their tables.
"I think I have lost my appetite honey. What about you?"
"Yes both options are unhealthy and do not sound or look good."
"I agree. I believe it would be healthier to not choose either option and just have some granola bars that we still have in our car."
The waiter had no smile on his face. He had no stars in his eyes. He turned and waved his arm towards two bus boys that had been waiting in the corner.
"These two people are no longer patrons at Cafe Democracy. Please dispose of their belongings, including their car. They only have it because of our great cooks and fellow patrons."
He turned to the now shocked and outraged couple.
"You will be charged full fare for your meal, now please leave Cafe Democracy and never return. Our menu options are for our paying patrons only."
"But we are paying patrons. You just said that we have been charged full price for the food that we did not order!"
The waiter did not look back at them as the bus boy, who wore a t-shirt stating that he was the practice of democracy, started dragging both man and woman out the back door. He instead went over to a new set of people wandering into the cafe. The people jumped in pseudo fright at his barking voice.
"Welcome to Cafe Democracy."

 

If you feel like it...

Some thoughts I have thought in the last few days...
-The Sahara Desert is hot.
I am serious. It is very hot.
-People around the world are basically the same.
They want respect for who they are. They eat food and drink water but some eat more food and drink cleaner water. Cultures clash but can not only co-exist but refine and enrich each other. I saw an incredible scene whilst on this last trip. A team member received Henna (sp?) on her hands. I could be biffing this up but I believe it is some sort of long lasting ink made from interesting smelling things. They tattoo it on your hands or feet. As this woman waved her bagged hands, under which were apparently obviously Hennaed, a group of 20ish ladies who were sitting under a tree, literally exploded with cheering, clapping and pseudo dancing. These ladies were so excited that this "two bob" (white person) came to their community and participated in something that was part of their culture. I ramble but I was blown away. It is small things we do that make massive impacts.
-Governments and most media are evil(ish).
That may be a strong word but I like to sling words around that have some meat on their bones. Everyday people are lied to by their national leaders and then lied to again about the government lies by the media. I am sick of it. As The Tenant says in Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath", "I want to go and shoot the sonuvabitch who is responsible for this but "The Bank" is not a man but is just made of men." I do not want to shoot anyone but this problem we have cannot be traced back to one thing. The human situation of greed, need and hate really makes it easy for the powers that be to keep doing a fantastic job of destroying lives. A great quote from a local man in the country I was in. "I very much like America...ummm I just do not like your government, yes?" Me too...me too.
-Culture Shock is real.
I just came from a place that, at best, the traffic could be called "controlled chaos" to a place here with an plethora of road rules and safety regulations. Where do I feel less safe and where do I get the worst looks and finger combinations? Yes, it is here not there. Boo. I am shocked...culturally.
-Make your meat count.
I have been swayed by a couple of travel companions on the positives of abstaining from the flesh of beasts. This is a, pardon the pun, hard thing for me to swallow. I very much like bacon, hambuuuurgers, steaks, bear and pig ribs, ham sandwiches, pizza and yes all sorts of meats. I am not giving up flesh totally but I think I see the value in not having animal fat constantly course through my blood, liver, heart and where ever else it goes. So I will just have to make my meat intake count. When I do eat it, I will need it to be spectacular. Like grizzly bear or something epic like that. Eating a ram, with my hands, in a tent, on top of a house in Africa works as well. Oh and Taco Tuesday at Zimm's because actually that may not be meat anywho.
-Language is a barrier but not a wall.
I went to a country to "teach English". I put that in quotes because these students, for the most part, could spell better than me and knew more grammar rules than I did. I really just taught them idioms. I digress. The people in this country spoke French and a form of Arabic for the most part. I met a family who spoke no amount of English. They impacted me in so many ways. I connected with them more deeply and intimately than most people that I can understand every word they say. I think it is not the words you say but what you are saying. I do need to learn French if I am to go back there though. It is not flattering to do Charades when needing to use the bathroom. Just tacky.

Well that is enough of my thought vomit. I feel like I have emptied my jumbled mind a bit. Thanks for coming.
P.S. To illustrate my terrible spelling, as I pressed the spell check button, I saw what I thought was a glass of lemonade spilling on my computer screen. It was not lemonade but just many highlighted and misspelled words. Go American education!
 

Oxes and Morons Run A Muck or Stubbed Toes in Transit

"Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another."     I was driving to work this morning and a swarthy looking fellow blinkerlessly wedged his car in the 11 feet that separated my front bumper and the pick up truck's back bumper. I rained expletives and tirades invoking wanted justice upon the back of his head.

As I cooled down, having realized that I was just coming to a stop light so I should have been braking anyways, I immediately was struck with his obscure passage from... I did not even know really so I had to look it up. It is from Zechariah chapter 7 verse 9, who knew? I pondered this thought. How does one administer true justice and show mercy to others? Now if you disagree with my base philosophical and theological belief, which is that we humans have fallen from grace and are deserving of damnation then we shall perhaps depart rhetoric here and now. I do believe that we have all sinned and rebelled against our maker. This sin is in many forms and shapes but whatever it takes shape as it is enough to separate us from Him. I pray daily that I may not receive my due justice. I also pray daily that I am shown mercy. I find it hard to link the two without them moving in opposite directions. My question is how does one show justice to a condemned populace whilst showing mercy to that same populace? I know this is counter to whatever we have going on in this day and age of self serving, gimme gimme take take society of vultures and ground squirrels who believe that they truly do deserve a ridiculously soft mattress, a shiny car and free health care. Don't stand and yell "Republican Bastard!" at me, I just do not believe we humans have done anything to deserve anything but worms and rotting flesh. (this comes from a person lacking health insurance FYI for all you who were saying it is easy to say that when you have it.)

So what does this look like? I ask it again because as I type I still have not been able to reconcile them. I sure do not believe true justice means frying criminals, no matter what they have done because that is not showing mercy and compassion, and I do not find any place in Christ's teachings where he gives society the right to kill people. On the contrary! He lifts judgements off death in favor of forgiveness and mercy!!! So maybe TRUE justice is the key. Have we fallen away from justice do far that Christ has had to bring the true justice that is only bestowed by Him in the form of compassion and mercy? Is the only way humans can administer true justice is by showing mercy and compassion? Maybe. I am spit balling here. 

A Crime against Codex?

    The steady, morose, doom impending sound of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, Ballet in 4 Acts throbs in my ears. My copy of Dickens's "David Copperfield" stares at me with judging and disappointed eyes. I feel as if I have done a dark and dastardly deed. My soul is torn between excitement and shame. I check my online bank statement again. Yes, I did it. It is right there. $79.00 charge from amazon.com.
Sigh...yes I have purchased a Kindle.
I was pushed over the edge. I am a product of this technological age. I had no chance.
When I saw that C.S. Lewis' "Space Trilogy" was nice dollars cheaper to purchase as a Kindle version, plus no shipping, I staggered. When I pushed my computer to block my view of aforementioned Dickens book and secretly clicked the button to see what amazon prime included, I broke. (a free trial of amazon prime comes with the Kindle purchase) I added to cart. I chose my payment options. I verified my shipping address. I then chose my FREE 2 DAY SHIPPING!
I stepped over Rufio's line drawn in the sand.
I am sure people have had this same experience in the past. The day in 330 A.D. when a weeping Roman laid aside his last scroll of "The Aeneid" and started to read from a codex. The day in 3000 B.C. when an Egyptian dropped his stone plates into the Nile and picked up his new copy of "The Mummy" written on papyrus. I am not the first or the last I shouldn't wonder, to commit Literary Adultery. The punishment will not fit the crime. That anti-glare screen will be pretty great.

Let us have a little help

I have a thing on my Internet page that gives a daily quote. I love quotes. You can tell them to people and feel super smart or pretencions, you can take them out of context and use them to justify you actions OR you can read them, think about who said them, ask what it means, meditate on how or if it translates to your culture or society. You can also still share them. I will copy paste good ones I read and email them to a friend once in a while to inspire them. It most likely annoys them more than anything I shouldn't wonder.
Well today's was particularly poignant and talkative to me. Some context into my current life...
I have been obsessed lately with the Body of Christ (The catholic church, catholic as in worldwide) and how things work internally and externally with it. The balance is always teetering, always tiptoeing on the knife blade and needs constant attention.

Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.
Martin Luther King Jr.

Now to some, this may seem kind of like a "duh" statement but I ask you how much do we practice this? We humans are quite incredible. We can run long distances, fight great battles both mentally and physically, invent amazing feats of technology, delve deep into the mysteries of science and though but we are awful team players. Now I speak from a context of living in America. A country that is constantly screaming of it's independent spirit and demanding that every person make it on their own. Yawn. Do not believe these lies. Every person needs people. The idea of self reliance and independent spirit was made up by the powers that were and be to keep us separated. (yes I love and believe conspiracy theories. In this day and age nothing is unrealistic.) The bigger we get as a culture, the more "connected" through social media we become, the farther away from real interpersonal interactions we get.
Now back to the Church. We are created in God's image. God has no body. God is presented as masculine but God is not male. (read C.S. Lewis' novel "Perelandria" to see a more well developed thought on this.) So image is not what we look like. It is WHO we are. It is how we as the only animals in this world are the only ones who are relational more than anything else. Dogs can be buddies but they do not set up towns and villages or get married. Homo Sapien must interact with others to be Homo Sapien. In the book "Into the Wild" the main character dreams on total separation from human society and everything he does is leading towards him finding his own Alaskan "Walden Pond" but when he finally does, he has an epiphany that life without others is no life at all. He tragically dies very soon after this. The point is that we need others.
In the Church, we hold fast to the scriptures showing us as The Body of Christ. We, like a body, are many different parts that make up a structure that thinks, moves, acts and hurts. Going to Sunday or Saturday services, taking the Eucharist, giving offering, listening to the sermon, those are all vital things but they are not the only things. We struggle to bring Sundays out with us to the rest of the week. The constant sharpening of each other cannot just happen if we meet and greet once a week. This is becoming very real to my Life Group. We have started to realize the importance of honest truth bombs, pain sharing, forgiveness, love through actions and words and the daily meditations required to live a a member in The Body. We cannot be who we could be in Christ, without the people around us. Stuffing our pain down deep inside ourselves, not sharing praises/griefs/struggles with our brothers and sisters, living without communal and meaningful prayer will keep us in a state of arrested development.
My generation loves to crap on The Church. We like to say it is vanilla and bland. That it is not relevant and living. We talk of its ineffectiveness in social justice.
I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be.
This phrase goes the other way was well. Others cannot be what they ought to be without me being what I ought to be. When we complain about the state of The Church, we witness against ourselves. If you call yourself a follower of Jesus than you are The Church and the sickness that you say has hold of it lives in you. We cannot go it alone. We cannot allow other go it alone. This will look very differently to many people, as well it should as we are so diverse. The theme is the same though.

Holy Noise/Bordering on Riot

Attended an Easter vigil on Saturday night. For those of you who have never been to one of these, I would say that it would be most agreeable or detestable to you. I will let you find out.
I will not go into the entire service as of right now as I have not processed it totally. The whole service was building up to the celebration of Christ rising from the dead and grave and therefore defeating sin and death and making way for mankind to be re united with God. Amen
So as the service went through it's paces, it culminated to a point where the Rector announced the resurrection of Jesus and the congregation, the priest, the pastoral members, the choir, the band and all creatures great and small went bonkers for I do not know how long. We screamed, yelled, rang bells, banged pots and pans, jumped, danced and just participated in general revelry in celebration.
As I was I yelling and ringing my bell, I felt an almost undeniable desire to throw my bell at someone and run around as I tore my shirt off, just go classically crazy. I did not do any of those things but pondered the feelings later.
How fine a line separates human emotional reactions. The same fire that fuels group worship of our Creator's victory is perhaps the same that fuels the riots and plundering of massive mobs. Before you call my pastor and get my kicked out, I am not saying God causes riots but that we humans have very basic emotions and very few reactions. Now how this come to fruition and what they cause or what outcomes results from them are very different. But that is the point is it not? If you are not a Christian, you will find my next statements very silly I shouldn't wonder.
We are fallen and all that grows inside of us and comes forth from our mouth, heart, mind and such is perverted. I use this word not JUST as sexual perversion but as meaning using something or doing something with same actions or same starting point but with an evil desire or outcome, ie Crusades, Spanish inquisition, abortion clinic bombings, early European missionaries murdering native Americans, Salem Witch Trials, almost every idea of sex in our culture, the use/love/desire/abuse of money...you get my point. Everything we humans do that is awful (which is mostly everything we do) could be and once was good. Adam and Eve were once perfect. They had our emotions, they had our desires and they acted as such BUT they were not fallen. They were Uber Man and Uber Woman. Nothing Man does can be correct without Christ providing the Grace to correct it. Our line is bent. Even if we start at point A headed towards perfection, the most minuscule of deviation will eventually result in out line being so far off perfection that we will no longer be able to see the True Line.
The same emotional starting point I had whilst celebrating and praising Christ late Saturday night, without Grace could easily be turned into a self righteous riot that could result in any sort of religious persecution. I think I understand what happened at Salem and why thousands of Christians and Muslims killed and are killing each other. This is why I am also able to say how terribly wrong they are as well. Understanding is not the same as condoning. I just wonder how much more effective we would be in showing truth is we understood how close we all were and but for the Grace of God how far we would all be from the True Line.
Anyways, I am done rambling. But I will leave you with this. I think a little personal riot on your own is not too bad. This world is ran by the enemy so let us riot continually but just in track with Christ. I can't tell you how each person gets on the Line but that there is a Line and we cannot be on it without Christ as The Line is Christ. Oh boy metaphysics!

and stretch...

Thanks to my pal Molly, I am using thewriteprompts.com to increase my limited skill as a writer. It is fabulously fun and I would recommend it to anyone. This one is using the following words to write for 15 minutes.
  bait
 •lighter
 •eerie
 •shhhh…
 •mechanic
 •word-of-mouth
 •caring
 •navy
 •cardigan
 •uncompromising
 •transport
 •rose

I have never liked the way information passed in the Navy. Word-of-mouth can sink a ship faster than a torpedo. I have been on this sticking hull of a ship for 6 weeks now. Maybe a sailor on a battleship or cruiser felt like a hero or inspired but men assigned to a cargo transport did not. A captain of a battleship seemed to be the quintessential man, uncompromising, brave, noble and uses words only when his cannons are empty. Our captain could not be more opposite. Instead of traditional captain's garb, he wore a cardigan and no hat. Appearances are more important than one imagines.  Maybe it was the nature of a ship like ours. We were like bait without a hook for the predators lurking in and under the north Atlantic. Our captain was probably a caring loving man on shore but on here he was a sly, sulking fidgety man. The ship took on the personality of the men who manned her. Our ship had no moral then.
It was one of the mechanic who first started the rumor. I do not know where he would have heard it but he said it.
 "Shhhh... you'll shut your cursed trap if you value your life!" the chief of the watch snarled at an unsuspecting seaman who had uttered the general consensus that was floating around the ship like a bad odor.
"Do you think it is true chief?" the embarrassed sailor meekly asked, desperately trying to get back into his good graces by asking his opinion.
The ship rose on the crest of the wave and then plummeted back into the trough. The chief spat the brown liquid that was developing from his quid and smoldered. His face became lighter at once, which made the scene only more eerie.
"Don't matter if it true or not, as we are all dead anyhow." the chief was maybe trying to inspire his boys or maybe he was just past caring now. 15 years at sea will do that to you.
The point was taken no matter what the thought behind the phrase was. The ship kept moving, the men kept grumbling. I have never like the way information was passed in the Navy.

No title here just a bear story.

The bear is not going to move. It was far too bad of a famine in the Wasatch Mountain Range to let a 200 pound meal to get away because of a little wait. I thought in the back of my mind, that I had heard the advice of playing dead to combat a bear attack. I think following that advice would lead to, not playing dead but being dead and digested I shouldn't wonder.
I could wait as well, you stupid hairy bastard. I tell myself this thinking I am talking to the great bear sitting outside of my man-sized cave with a child-sized entrance, but in reality I am most likely just speaking to trying to instill listless hope into my most desperate of situations. The beast has more fat and no student loans to pay. It has all the time in the world. It? I wonder if this is a girl bear or a boy bear. I do not care. I do not think gender has anything to do with sharpness of claw and biting of teeth. I have but a leatherman knife. It has a four inch blade. What are you going to do Davy? Stab the beast's eye ball and hope the curved scimitars on the paws miss me?
I scream like a banshee. I have never heard a banshee but I figure it sounds like me. The bear does not move outside of grunting with what I can only guess is hunger and annoyance.
I am almost sorry for how rude I am being with this terrible wait. "The olive garden can get like this as well guy." I shall converse with my vessel of doom. I am out of options. To stay here would most likely spell death by hunger or probably thirst before that. I have a nice rotund belly to keep me alive but alas I have no water. I lost it running away from a bear.
My ankle is swelling now. Broken I shouldn't wonder. F@#king bear.
It is not the bear's fault. I came into the home of the bear. It should kill me even if it was not in need of sustenance. I would have shot the bear if it had rambled into my house. Right between the damn eyes. I would have ballyhooed like a sandperson. I spit at the bear. I am immediately remorseful. Yes the animal is trying to eat me but it does not deserve my disdain just my fear. We humans disdain too much and fear too little. Or at least we fear the wrong things. Irrational fear is being scared of not having enought money. Irrational unfear is ignoring natural law and traipsing around in uncivilized territory that obviously does not belong to people but to bears. Big bears that eat any living thing it can catch within it's improbably immense grasp.
The bear will roar and then most likely be very silent outside of his munchings. I have decided that my bear is a male.
Baloo looks away down the slope at something. "Please leave." I do not say this but just think it.
I would gladly gamble my life on falling/running down the mountain side. I could make it. I do not want to pass out and die in a hole.
I wonder what life I will miss out on? What will my friends say at my bodiless funeral? I would hope they would put up signs and fliers warning people of the dangers or frivolous hikes through bear country. Bear country. If only my issues was with sister bear or brother bear. My problem would be them keeping me out of their superb clubhouse. I find it ironic that the more we paint a bear like a person the less savage they get and the more petty and mean they get. What if humans were more savage and ferocious and less petty? I guess problems would arise out of that as well.
The point of no return for several options is drawing near. The longer I stay here the weaker I become. I will be dehydrated and famished. My ankle will be more swollen. The bear will be hungrier which for some reason I feel will not diminish his killing capacity or at least not comparable to my escaping capacity.
I grab my leatherman. The beast is digging a hole. Grubs? I do not linger on the thought. He is looking away. I wonder if he has forgotten about me. Fear and trepidation.
I climb out as child out of womb. Just as helpless.
I run past. No time for a heroic stab of my knife. He most likely has thick skin.
Bears are stronger than people...and faster.
Oh well I tried.

Ride in...

The world is an awful place. Children are being forced to be soldiers, people are starving in our own country, millions of babies are slaughtered each year and humans generally treat each other and all other living things terribly. Contrary to what the google commercials are saying these days, humanity is not evolving for the better, we are not growing closer with our technology but finding new and different ways to destroy. Gone are the days where a King Arthur rides in too restore order and drives out they who oppress. This can depress me and make me feel helpless even with more resources and rivers of information than ever before in human history. We sit in the dark dank stable even as the feast is laid before us. All this I ponder on and yet this slow death we may look to the Bright Sadness. The Lenten season is upon us. We are trudging our way towards Holy Week. A time that The Church celebrates and meditates on Christ's journey to death on a tree by our hands and then to victory over death with His Resurrection. This is not a fable or a commemoration of a good man's life, it is the acknowledgment of God becoming a man, dying and coming back to life.
I pine for a moment when a host of riders would indeed traverse down the hillside to break through the lines and grant salvation to the Hornburg. I can lose my thoughts in what was and I can forget that our White Rider has indeed trodden down the enemy underfoot. The Battle is won and know He is calling to the survivors to Himself.

I say all this with the aforementioned terror of our modern decaying world not as an excuse for placing my head comfortably in the sand, but to freely draw my sword and charge. We may go out and give kindness to those who meet, we can give what we have (as what we have really does not matter!!!) to those who have not, we may die to ourselves as we are free to Live in Christ. The world is going to hell in a hand basket yes, but look around, we have people we come in contact with everyday to pull out of the aftermath.