bread&tea

Have you found enjoyment from or through a thing, and known the niggling yearning for a step further that hovers yet out of reach. Of course. Some well made music, the enclosure of sound and swelling of emotions... and an end. Repetition only yielding a slow retreat from the moment. A film that resonates with your upbringing and beliefs, that piques your mind, perhaps in a way the only one nearby gets is you. The aftermath of inspiration, clarity of thought, hope. Turning in for sleep in resignation. An escape outdoors, howling wind bringing a cocoon of silence in the mind. A bittersweet cold that chills unpleasantly but wonderfully invigorates. A locked away grove feeling of home. The eventuality of returning to human population. Building, creating, manufacturing, curating, spinning into existence with care some portion to bring benefit. The knowledge of entropy in action regardless of whether you continue. The simple endless pleasure of progression in an rpg,

Post camp is an interesting time. Staying up late despite exhaustion in pursuit of those few moments remaining with counselors before they disperse. Jarring out of the artificial environment of camp discipleship into old work relationships and confusions. Coming to an understanding of new convictions. Restarting the cycle of food planning-creation-cleanup. There is an age old tradition at camp, during each meal we have what's called a "nutshell". This is a small exposition of a verse or two from scripture. Towards the end of every year, I invariably turn to Hebrews 12:1-2, which follows an entire chapter referring to the faith of various believers. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cros

Time has appeared that time is found for such a thing as this, writing. That is, in a reformed and somewhat organized fashion. Much different than defaulting to a "catch all" spiral notebook as the last years have been. Resulting in masses of paper with no organization- building diagrams, half-letters, personal reflections, game concepts, bible studies, all unkindly shoveled together. My tidy half dies as the dominant and undisciplined half shrugs and begins tomorrow's list on the next page. Urgh. We'll only end up crossing out three of those eight to-do's anyway.. Pretty sure it's claimed somewhere (which means something?) that the act of writing helps with memory, efficiency, learning, and a dozen other life-essential tasks. Whatever the case... No longer working fifty plus hours weekly as a grocer changes some life habits. It always helped to stay sane by reminding myself that zillions of people work harder and longer hours than those. Now, I happily thro

There's one fact swirling along the periphery of my brain today. The close proximity and familiarity by repetition of co-workers resulting in care for people I don't care for. There's only so many people that one can emotionally connect and intentionally build relationships with, and the cold fact is that time has a lot to do with friendship, because time is valuable. Spend time leveling in an rpg (thank goodness those days are over) and try not caring about losing days of progress. And so on and so forth with additional analogies. Jesus does say to love and pray for enemies, but also had only twelve "close" followers, or friends. My old lost and dead flesh dislikes people, but Christ within loves. So it happens that I end up caring for people I don't care for. At the same time, we are the salt of the world. Christianity isn't about holing up in our home with best buds all day and staying away from all the bad people. What a bad influence. This fact

It's been some time- inside of which I've aged. In ten years- or less- I'll be able to read this bit and chuckle and say, 'I've aged". Yet it really doesn't matter that my immaturity still exists, it's comforting to simply make progress. No one just clicks and becomes perfect and ceases to grow in wisdom for the rest of life. That 'click' point merits its own article. At seven I thought it would be ten, at ten I thought it would be fifteen, at fifteen I thought it would be eventually... but of course with so much wisdom now at least I no longer guess any more ages. Ha. Blogging is a pretty good way to exercise writing, even if it does require consciously telling the grammar police and editing moguls in my head to shut up occasionally. Can't get a straight sentence out otherwise. And I declare- says the least disciplined youngest of five- 'writing shall be in my life, whether I like it or not!' An astounding argument of logic.

I feel pretty rotten over my commitment to investing in writing skills. 'Nuff said. Where did October come from? Isn't today the first of September? And how is it hotter than June? I should understand these things, and discover how I am losing track of, or otherwise what I am using to much time with, but often it's easier to let them go and focus on now and tomorrow. Recently, I've been working on forging swords. The Sword of the Spirit, which Ephesians says is the word of God, which I then translate to mean in application, memory and meditation of scripture. I understand it better as swords, plural, because of the different arenas in which to use the sword. For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. Hebrews 4:12. 1 John 2:16-17 says there are three things in the world by which I am tempted, and diffe

Human - The Killers Are we human or are we dancer? I've loved this song ever since I first heard it, half due the irresistible catch, half due the lyrics. Sparse enough for fault to be hard to find, yet with enough to read in a meaning of my own. The song is uplifting in tone, and meaning if you want it to be so. In a whimsical way, I always answer the question with "dancer!". After all, everyone is human. That's inescapable following literal thinking, but what joy can be found in life without ever entertaining thoughts of what's unseen? Maybe some, I have never attempted thinking that feat. Especially as joy seems much different than everyday happiness. Isn't there joy in thinking of yourself as a dancer? Depending on what picture that brings to mind for you, yes and no. As a man looking to be manly, dancing is decidedly backward thinking. Just as I'm conscious of sin's effect on a view of dancing. While conscious is good, don't let that des