I stepped off the Amtrak in Spokane about 12:15 Saturday morning. I was exhausted and hadn't slept well for a few days leading into the trip so I was hoping to actually sleep on the train. That didn't happen. My friend met me at the station and took me back tot he Ronald McDonald house where he was staying with his wife and 4 year-old daughter who is fighting cancer. I don't know what I expected but I did not expect to see a small child with no hair that looked a little like an alien. I was tired and she was asleep so I didn't get to talk to her that night, and sleep was long in coming.
Waking up was a quick process of realizing how uncomfortable I actually was in the bed I was in and waking up. There was no bounding out of bed, I was after all very tired, but I dragged myself up and sat on the floor next to this smiling little girl that was really excited to see me. She gave me a hug and the picture of the frail little thing the night before was gone. Everyone was up by this time and Katelyn was watching some cartoons. I was suprised to see how happy she was, just don't mention shots, and how active she was.
My friends have to get back to their normal schedules now that it's Monday. For Brian that means going back to work, but for Jamie that is a trip back to Spokane and back into the hospital for a 4 year-old. She is responding to the treatments well and taking the process better than some adults could. Like all healings, this will take time and I know a little girl who will beat cancer.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Stubborn Loss
I don't speak much to my little brother. For a long time he has had it in his mind that relying on anyone for anything is a sure sign of weakness and he doesn't need any of that. Unfortunately for him, this self-reliance extends to God. He doesn't think that he needs him, and nothing that I can say to him will make him change his mind.
To expand this a little bit, I should tell a little bit about the relationship that my little brother and I have. He's now 25, 26 in a month, and I think in all that time we've only really got along well for a month. That's one month out of the 284 months that we've actually had a good relationship. I would like to think that there was a good reason for this, but the unfortunate truth of it is, I have no idea why. Growing up he would push buttons to get a rise from me. I would hurt him in all ways that I could and he would just go running to mom and dad for rescue, and in the event that they weren't available, call grandma. This continued pretty much until I went to college.
During college we lived 3000 miles apart and when I graduated he was still in Hawaii, a long ways away. There seemed to be enough distance at that point for him to forget that he didn't like me, or me him. He would visit at holidays and there would be one or two days that we actually got along before I remembered why he got on my nerves so much. Our personalities just don't work well.
One of the hardest things that I've had to do for my little brother recently is forgive him for driving me crazy, and I do. Don't let the above misdirect you. I didn't put it down because I'm bitter, just to give readers an idea of the continuing conflict that has gone on for years and years. I love the kid, even when we argue.
Last night I think I finally got a point in a conversation that can be a seed for the great things that God has for him. While talking he more or less said that he didn't need to rely on God. Without telling him how misguided he is (he won't ever read this) I managed to show him how poorly my life was going without God. He didn't want to hear any of it and quickly stopped talking, but my point was made. I hope he realizes that there are people out there that he can rely upon and he doesn't need to live this life alone.
To expand this a little bit, I should tell a little bit about the relationship that my little brother and I have. He's now 25, 26 in a month, and I think in all that time we've only really got along well for a month. That's one month out of the 284 months that we've actually had a good relationship. I would like to think that there was a good reason for this, but the unfortunate truth of it is, I have no idea why. Growing up he would push buttons to get a rise from me. I would hurt him in all ways that I could and he would just go running to mom and dad for rescue, and in the event that they weren't available, call grandma. This continued pretty much until I went to college.
During college we lived 3000 miles apart and when I graduated he was still in Hawaii, a long ways away. There seemed to be enough distance at that point for him to forget that he didn't like me, or me him. He would visit at holidays and there would be one or two days that we actually got along before I remembered why he got on my nerves so much. Our personalities just don't work well.
One of the hardest things that I've had to do for my little brother recently is forgive him for driving me crazy, and I do. Don't let the above misdirect you. I didn't put it down because I'm bitter, just to give readers an idea of the continuing conflict that has gone on for years and years. I love the kid, even when we argue.
Last night I think I finally got a point in a conversation that can be a seed for the great things that God has for him. While talking he more or less said that he didn't need to rely on God. Without telling him how misguided he is (he won't ever read this) I managed to show him how poorly my life was going without God. He didn't want to hear any of it and quickly stopped talking, but my point was made. I hope he realizes that there are people out there that he can rely upon and he doesn't need to live this life alone.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Jesse on Anguish
This past weekend I had the blessing of spending time with the Men's Leadership of Springfield Faith Center. I have been running around with that crowd for a bit over a year now and I don't understand always why they keep me around. I struggle, a lot. I never quite know what I'm hearing from God and my faith is tested on a daily basis. After chatting with one of the elders from the church that happened to be on the retreat, I still was struggling to identify why I was there in the first place. If you're waiting for me to say I had some great Revelation and now speak to God constantly, that's not what this is about. This is about one part of one of the sessions that hit me in the face like a Hollyfield uppercut.
David Wilkerson is a pastor in New York city that after 50 years of preaching God's word, now pastors to pastors, encouraging them to renew the passion for Christ. He started by preaching to inner city gangs and has led many of them to the Lord. In a message about anguish, his heart broke. Christ experienced true anguish on the cross. At one moment he raises his eyes to heaven and cries out, "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I've heard this described to me as the moment when the weight of all the sin of all of man for ALL TIME was set on his shoulders. Think about all the hurts in your own life that weigh upon you so heavy, of all the things that you've heard even the most spiritually attuned men and women do in their own life. Take all those and roll them into a ball and set them on the shoulders of one person. Do you think he felt anguish?
In Pastor Wilkerson's message, through tears and obvious turmoil he shouts into the microphone about the lax attitude that has fallen on so many of the so called faithful in this day and age. I live with a family that many of them have turned away from God. They will claim to pray, and they might yet, but I don't see in their own lives the connection with God that I see from some of the common people standing in line at the Homeless shelter. In their comfort, my family has forgotten to worship the one that created them.
I am one of the lax Christians that has forgotten what true faith is supposed to look like. This has caused me to be negative and most of the things that I approach the elders about, the questions I ask, they are negative collections of pessimism that I can't quite escape from. I see people getting comfortable and I can only wonder if I've picked up the mood of the church that has moved into religion and away from God. I am deeply filled with empathy, moods rarely escape me, and I used to feel the pain of people so greatly that there are movies that I couldn't watch because of the kinds of pain that the characters had to endure before the end. Some of my favorite movies had parts that I needed to skip over because of one scene that the hurt on the face of the actor was so great I couldn't stand to watch it. My heart broke for that person.
Where did that manner within me go? Like a switch, I turned off the things within me that opened me to deeper feelings of someone that they would hide from the world, but can't hide from God. By the Holy Spirit, I was so attuned to how someone felt that on the surface they could look one way and I could tell that deep within them, hidden from the world, they were suffering. At some point, I turned that switch off. I stopped caring what others felt and I stopped suffering with them because I was told that it isn't the right thing to do. I look at my family and I can see the suffering within even on the outside, and yet I can't feel how they feel. I don't know what to say to them to get them to fight for their own hearts.
My manner changed and I have a new anguish. I hurt for myself. For the things that were once so simple for me to do, I have lost them. For my family that I see struggling to come to realization that just because they turned away from a Godly life, it does not mean that they don't still need God. I see the hurts on them that can be fixed by God, creator of all things. I suffer watching them fight to keep their heads afloat and I can't stand that they don't see at least a little joy that comes from following and worshiping the King of Kings.
David Wilkerson is a pastor in New York city that after 50 years of preaching God's word, now pastors to pastors, encouraging them to renew the passion for Christ. He started by preaching to inner city gangs and has led many of them to the Lord. In a message about anguish, his heart broke. Christ experienced true anguish on the cross. At one moment he raises his eyes to heaven and cries out, "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I've heard this described to me as the moment when the weight of all the sin of all of man for ALL TIME was set on his shoulders. Think about all the hurts in your own life that weigh upon you so heavy, of all the things that you've heard even the most spiritually attuned men and women do in their own life. Take all those and roll them into a ball and set them on the shoulders of one person. Do you think he felt anguish?
In Pastor Wilkerson's message, through tears and obvious turmoil he shouts into the microphone about the lax attitude that has fallen on so many of the so called faithful in this day and age. I live with a family that many of them have turned away from God. They will claim to pray, and they might yet, but I don't see in their own lives the connection with God that I see from some of the common people standing in line at the Homeless shelter. In their comfort, my family has forgotten to worship the one that created them.
I am one of the lax Christians that has forgotten what true faith is supposed to look like. This has caused me to be negative and most of the things that I approach the elders about, the questions I ask, they are negative collections of pessimism that I can't quite escape from. I see people getting comfortable and I can only wonder if I've picked up the mood of the church that has moved into religion and away from God. I am deeply filled with empathy, moods rarely escape me, and I used to feel the pain of people so greatly that there are movies that I couldn't watch because of the kinds of pain that the characters had to endure before the end. Some of my favorite movies had parts that I needed to skip over because of one scene that the hurt on the face of the actor was so great I couldn't stand to watch it. My heart broke for that person.
Where did that manner within me go? Like a switch, I turned off the things within me that opened me to deeper feelings of someone that they would hide from the world, but can't hide from God. By the Holy Spirit, I was so attuned to how someone felt that on the surface they could look one way and I could tell that deep within them, hidden from the world, they were suffering. At some point, I turned that switch off. I stopped caring what others felt and I stopped suffering with them because I was told that it isn't the right thing to do. I look at my family and I can see the suffering within even on the outside, and yet I can't feel how they feel. I don't know what to say to them to get them to fight for their own hearts.
My manner changed and I have a new anguish. I hurt for myself. For the things that were once so simple for me to do, I have lost them. For my family that I see struggling to come to realization that just because they turned away from a Godly life, it does not mean that they don't still need God. I see the hurts on them that can be fixed by God, creator of all things. I suffer watching them fight to keep their heads afloat and I can't stand that they don't see at least a little joy that comes from following and worshiping the King of Kings.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Something I Forgot
A couple posts ago I commented about sitting at home on a Friday night. It was brought to my attention that I missed something from the evening. In addition to watching Hudson Hawk, hence Bruce Willis, if you haven't seen this movie you need to go watch it like yesterday, I was sitting drinking wine and puting together a puzzle. A jigsaw puzzle of a nerdy wizard casting a spell. It is how I spent much of my evening and I did finally get to bed sometime shortly after midnight. I did rather enjoy myself and I had some good chats with folks online.
The Saturday I didn't sit at home, which made me feel a litle better about my situation, but I also don't remember doing anything that night.
That about covers everything.
The Saturday I didn't sit at home, which made me feel a litle better about my situation, but I also don't remember doing anything that night.
That about covers everything.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Henry Jones Jr.
As a little boy, I lived over near what is now Market of Choice in Eugene, on Green Acres road. Before civilization caught up to that edge of town, there was nothing in that part of town except for what I think may have been a Costco, but I think it may have been called something else. The very far edge of the field had a Jafco, and next door to that was a GI Joes. I remember very little actually about living over there, but the things I do remember mostly surround that field.
The first thing that comes to mind is the explorer that such a large field turned me into. Underneath all of that land is a collection of storm drains and I know for a fact that they weren't always closed off. I've been inside them and walked from one end to the other. Being a silly little kid, I was always afraid of getting trapped in it by someone closing off the other end.
Right in the middle of what is now Walmart's parking lot, I recall a hill that was cut into by the expansion of the area, and one side of it formed a cliff that was just dirt and rocks. By pulling out rocks, you could create for yourself a handhold or even a toe hold as you scaled up the side. It couldn't have been more than 10 feet tall, but when you're little, climbing to the top made you into Sir Edmond Hilary.
Henry Jones Jr. Who is he? Most people remember him by two other names, first is Dr. Jones, spoken with the heavy accent of a young chinese boy, but most commonly he might be referred to as Indiana Jones. I bring him up in reminiscing about my childhood because those memories made me into an explorer, they took me out on an adventure. In my later life, I lost what it was that made me excited to go out and explore but have recently become acquainted with it again.
I borrowed my nephew's copy of the Indiana Jones series, and its unfortunate that he doesn't really understand what he is looking at. Dr. Jones had freedom to go on an adventure. One of my favorite parts of any of the movies is when they show a map and he is travelling from place to place. Instead of showing that he is bored and sitting on a plane, you see an image of the plane flying and a red line connecting the various ports of call. He was on the go, sometimes half way around the world.
It is my hope that someday when I'm looking at a map I don't see a lot of places that I wish that I had had time to go, I want to look at all the places that I've been able to travel to and remember what it's like to explore something on a grander scale than the storm drain under the local shopping center.
The first thing that comes to mind is the explorer that such a large field turned me into. Underneath all of that land is a collection of storm drains and I know for a fact that they weren't always closed off. I've been inside them and walked from one end to the other. Being a silly little kid, I was always afraid of getting trapped in it by someone closing off the other end.
Right in the middle of what is now Walmart's parking lot, I recall a hill that was cut into by the expansion of the area, and one side of it formed a cliff that was just dirt and rocks. By pulling out rocks, you could create for yourself a handhold or even a toe hold as you scaled up the side. It couldn't have been more than 10 feet tall, but when you're little, climbing to the top made you into Sir Edmond Hilary.
Henry Jones Jr. Who is he? Most people remember him by two other names, first is Dr. Jones, spoken with the heavy accent of a young chinese boy, but most commonly he might be referred to as Indiana Jones. I bring him up in reminiscing about my childhood because those memories made me into an explorer, they took me out on an adventure. In my later life, I lost what it was that made me excited to go out and explore but have recently become acquainted with it again.
I borrowed my nephew's copy of the Indiana Jones series, and its unfortunate that he doesn't really understand what he is looking at. Dr. Jones had freedom to go on an adventure. One of my favorite parts of any of the movies is when they show a map and he is travelling from place to place. Instead of showing that he is bored and sitting on a plane, you see an image of the plane flying and a red line connecting the various ports of call. He was on the go, sometimes half way around the world.
It is my hope that someday when I'm looking at a map I don't see a lot of places that I wish that I had had time to go, I want to look at all the places that I've been able to travel to and remember what it's like to explore something on a grander scale than the storm drain under the local shopping center.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Why Can't I Cry
If you go back far enough and find people that remember the hyper sensitive kid that I used to be. I would cry at any small infraction against me, and any hurt would be met with tears. You could honestly say that I could be called a crybaby. Let's face it, I was.
In these current times, I'm investigating who I really am. Things are sometimes good and sometimes bad, but for the most part I feel good about who I've become. In some of the classes that I've been taking it's really come down to some emotional topics that should affect me in ways that elicit some reaction, but for some reason I can't cry.
Tears just won't come. No matter what the topic is, no matter how sad, no matter how upset I am with a topic from the past, my eyes just can't leak. It drives me a bit crazy at times. Actually, it makes me quite mad at times. There are some times when I'm studying the bible or I'm talking with someone in a growth situation, I don't have an emotional response. Sometimes I even want to cry, but I can't. Why is this?
I love God! There is nothing that I wouldn't do if I truly felt his calling on my life, but the sad truth is, there is nothing more that I want to do for him than to cry. I want my eyes to open up and water, heavily water. I want to cry, but I don't know why I can't. So step on my foot, kick me in the shin, tell me you hate me, do what you must, but please don't settle for anything short of a tear from my eye.
In these current times, I'm investigating who I really am. Things are sometimes good and sometimes bad, but for the most part I feel good about who I've become. In some of the classes that I've been taking it's really come down to some emotional topics that should affect me in ways that elicit some reaction, but for some reason I can't cry.
Tears just won't come. No matter what the topic is, no matter how sad, no matter how upset I am with a topic from the past, my eyes just can't leak. It drives me a bit crazy at times. Actually, it makes me quite mad at times. There are some times when I'm studying the bible or I'm talking with someone in a growth situation, I don't have an emotional response. Sometimes I even want to cry, but I can't. Why is this?
I love God! There is nothing that I wouldn't do if I truly felt his calling on my life, but the sad truth is, there is nothing more that I want to do for him than to cry. I want my eyes to open up and water, heavily water. I want to cry, but I don't know why I can't. So step on my foot, kick me in the shin, tell me you hate me, do what you must, but please don't settle for anything short of a tear from my eye.
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