Tell Me Again

I suppose this may serve as a continuation of thought, carried over from my last blog...

I got it!! I finally found a question that was fitting for me to ask, that had no answer.  There is literally no answer for my question.  Cannot be found in any text, any databases, or any historic archives.  Go ahead, try to give me the best possible answer you got....

What if I am too patient?

In dealing with people and situations, what if I am too patient?  What if I give so much of myself and receive none in return?  Is that even wrong?  Should I just do what I have to do, be patient and right for myself, and not worry about what someone else is going to do?

Is there ever a limit to the amount of patience one should have?

I know that it is written in the bible, to have patience and to be patient.  I am also well aware that it is morally right to be a patient person.  Not only that, but it makes life, and relationships with people, a heck of a lot easier.  But is there ever a limit?  Is there a point that could be reached, where it is acceptable to have a lacking in total patience?  Okay, allow me to attempt to dissect my thoughts, and put them into logical layman's terms.  So, according to the bible, I see that there is no limit to patience, nor should it really be questioned.  Simple as it says, just be patient.  Morally acceptable limit...I am unsure if there is one.  I mean, patience IS noted as a virtue.  So what am I supposed to do when I have reached my boiling point?  Am I just supposed to challenge myself, push on, and fight with all possible patience?  Is it something that I will forever be able to do, because I trust in God.  I know that I have had plenty of help from God.  My entire life I have dealt with things that were obviously impossible to tackle, without the help from God.  So is it that simple?

Here is where this thought stems from:

Another thing I have pondered about recently is why I moved home from Tallahassee, and transferred schools in the first place.  I know that I may have made a smart decision scholastically and morally, but what about for myself otherwise?  Well, I came back to do better in school and get the degree I wanted (only a final year left...success).  Everything seems to be working out.  I got a job right away [and have two now].  I began an incredible relationship with someone that I can confidently see myself spending some time with [ ;) ].  Things are great!  But then the living situation...

I moved back home.  In with the family, that loves me oh so much.  (I say that in jest, but I know they actually have love for me.  Just lacking in their expression at times.)  It started off fine.  I was working daily, and they were paying me no mind.  Then it must have set in.  They realized that I will be living with them permanently.  I soon got sick of it.  After my first year back at home, I came to find out that there is a bit of a standard favoritism in the house.  As well as a little power control aspect of the flow of the household.  I slowly migrated to hours spent inside the confines of my own room, daily.  This routine eventually grew on me.  I was perplexed as to how this was going to work.  So it was decided that I was going to make an attempt to move out.  Nearly six months later, and I'm still here at home.

I just don't know what it is.  I can't really see why.  I know I was led to come home for a reason.  I felt it in my heart.  And it weighed heavy, as I mustered up some strength to finish up my last semester at FSU.  So here I am, sitting here, wondering why I came home.  I can see the positives (obviously stated, in the previous paragraph).  But why does this negative of living in the house bring me down so much?  The other issues of school, work, and my personal life were easily taken care of.  I constantly ask myself, why do I have to go through this?  What am I learning by this?  God, what are you teaching me here?

Maybe it's just patience.



As an aside, a recent thought that has been resonating in my mind:

I am extremely envious of my brother's relationship.  Every time I hear them talk.  Every time I see them interact.  Sometimes I just wish that it was that easy in my relationship.  It's okay...I'm patient.

I am lost.

I don't know all of the technical psychological terms, but I will do my best in completely describing my present thoughts.  I feel like I am slowly changing as a person.  I know, and am well aware, that everyone changes as they go through life.  But I feel like I am noticing it in myself.  And frankly, it is scaring me a little bit.

To start, I used to be someone who had no problem being open with certain things in my life.  General information, if you will (minus all of the personal things).  I suppose it made me quite personable and welcoming, as a friend.  Well, recently I have noticed that I am changing in that aspect.  I am more likely to internalize a feeling that I have, rather than go on and tell anyone about it.  I feel like it is benefitting me in avoiding bad/negative situations.  I think maybe that is the one thing that I idolize my father for.  He has such a natural ability to keep things to himself, like some sort of FBI agent.  I think that he may use that ability too much, forcing some strained relationships.  I feel like over time, it can cause me to become too distant with certain people.  But I wish I could avoid certain situations, easily, without hesitation.  I have been told that there is an easy way to avoid falling for the usual maze that my mind creates, in its own thoughts, and it seems quite simple; control my thoughts.  Yeah, well I know how to control my thoughts.  I know how to think to avoid complications, but there are still times where I fall into a rut of thought.  I am sure it is clear to see, by some sort of facial expression or tone of voice.  But I want to eliminate that in between; the obvious.  I want to be able to go through my day, and withhold information and hold back from letting people around me know that "something's up."  But maybe this is just a phase.

Also, I am a tad bit scared about my future.  Which comes off to me as strange.  I know I can be quoted, as of late, telling all about how great my life is going to be and how I am so confident in that.  Recently, however, I have noticed a change in the pattern.  In my usual thought, I discovered that I am in terrible fear.  I hear how my father talks...my friends talk...my professors, etc.   And I can't help but imagine my life falling into shambles, and having some sort of mid life crisis at 30 years of age.  I mean, it's only 9 years off.  And the more times I hear about what I'm going to be doing in 10 years (the typical conversation starter in an "upscale" social gathering of young adults), the more concerned I get.  I have no freaking clue!!!  I am just focused on finishing school, which is in a little under exactly one year from this date.  Okay okay, but what comes next??  The usual "real world" comment by the attackers and onlookers, as I notify them of my graduation.  What is next, honestly?  Some sort of job?  Is it a career specific job?  How will I even get that job?  What if I don't get a job?  Aside from that, what else may come?  I am not worrying necessarily, but I am just in wonder.  I know it too shall fall into place, but I sometimes wish I knew how it will.

maybe it's easier to confide

within the power of the mind

keeping information inside

while tracking thoughts like dollar signs

warning labels shout

levels of confusion without a doubt

but why would i wanna put out

when I used to let too much out my mouth

What Am I Doing!?

Take out a mental sheet of paper, and a mental pen or pencil (to whichever you prefer).  Jot down some things that you like to do in your free time.  That free of class and work.  Then start a new list under it.  Title it, Really Now, What Do I Honestly Like To Do In My Free Time.  In other words, free from what you feel others may think, friends, family, GOD.  Make the mental note.  Now cross off the things that you know people, universally, would accept.  What do you have left?

I'm guilty of it as well.  Hiding things from plain sight, so that no one will see our struggles.  We call these things our vices.  Now that we have identified them, which I'm sure we all have before, what do we do with them.  In the past, I have made this mental list, AND checked it twice (a little Santa-esq).  Then decided, subconsciously, that it wasn't important enough for me to give it up.  So, what drives us to give up our vices and turn ourselves over?  When we evaluate this, it becomes evident that we aren't doing ourselves much good at all, in an attempt to rid the vices from our lives.  (Hence why we keep falling back to them)  But when we open up to someone about our vices, generally, the person is very understanding, and takes time to help us out.  We may be able to rid some of our vices, but some still remain, and there is a great chance that the vices that have been sent packing, may just come back for another visit.

What am I getting at here?

I am attempting to figure out solving my own issues with Mr. & Mrs. Vice, along with their kids, Joe Vice, Jane Vice, and Mike Vice Jr.  The worst of it all, is that once the kids move out, they always seem to come back to pay a visit, or try to stay for elongated periods of time.  When I am in re-evaluation mode, these vices seem easy to conquer, and I generally tend to put them out of heart and mind for a while.  Some stay away permanently, and some tend to wander around, only to come back to me.  Yes, I have gone to friends and family for these issues.  Usually a vent session, or a deep discussion.  But am I REALLY listening!?  I pay attention, hear the words, comprehend it, but something doesn't stick.  See, a seed can be planted, but it will never grow into a plant unless it is given necessary attention.  Okay, so we need to pay more attention.

How are we supposed to pay attention?  What are the methods of this, "pay attention"?

There are a few ways I have learned this (and still learning it), but I have found that the overwhelming push to reach for God, is the ultimate way of paying attention.  In other words, pay attention to God.  And yes, do this before you go run and give advice on how to conquer a vice which you haven't gotten past.  And most of all, do NOT deem yourself vice-less...ever!  These things are hypocritical.  We are told, "You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye." -Matthew 7:5.

A vice is defined as an immoral or evil habit or practice.  In other words, a vice could also be defined as a sin, correct?

We already know that sin is not something that we should be doing, by any means.  "We are all infected and impure with sin.  When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags.  Like autumn leaves, we wither and fall, and our sins sweep us away like the wind." -Isaiah 64:6.  Man, that sounds harsh!!  Praise be to God that He sent His son, Jesus Christ to cleanse us of our sins, "If you declare with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." -Romans 10:9.

So if it is so wicked and evil, God obviously sent his son for us, so we are free from all of our vices anyway, right?

The thing is, you have to "believe it in your heart".  And upon doing that, it becomes easier.  Have I conquered all of my vices?   Again, no I have not.  But am I saying here, right now, that I am going to declare myself rid of the vice that clouds my mind daily, and tempt me more than anything, on an hourly basis?  Yes, a resounding yes!

How am I so confident?

Because I have remembered someone that is very close to me.  With the wise words that have been spoken in the past, have been translated into the present.  I have to stop now.  I have battled with the vice for years, and it is time to hang up the bad habit, for good.  I have finally listened, and understood.  Words I have heard were spoken to help me.  How or why did I encounter such a helpful person?  One who can't even relate to me, in this aspect.  One who does not share this vice with me.  But that is just it.  It is a simple equation.  God has given me the opportunity, and all I have to do is believe.  "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength." -Philippians 4:13.

The Four People I'll Meet in Heaven

I can't see through the smoke, but I know someone is in here!!  I search around with my hands, staying low to the ground.  "Help!"  I can hear her now.  I feel my way through, into the adjacent room.  I can make out a figure in the corner, hunched over, protecting her face.  I swiftly move towards her and pick her up.  I make my way out of the room.  The side door is off to the right of the house.  I move through the family room, and turn the knob.  But I have lost my breath.

I am in a house.  It's foreign to me.  There are old pictures on the wall, family pictures, in different places.  "Matt!" I turn to my right, and see someone sitting at a desk.  She looks familiar, but I can't make out who it is.  I walk over to her.  "Why are you making that face at me!?  Don't you remember me?"  I shake my head, and turn my attention back to the open living room, analyzing it, trying to get some sort of clue as to who's house I'm in.  "Come with me, I have to show you something."  I follow her through a doorway, off to the side of the room.  As I enter, it is as though we have walked right into a different house.  She leads me over to a desk, a different one this time.  I look as she points to it, on the computer screen.  Facebook.com.  My old profile picture, my old information...my old page.  I look at her for an answer, but she remains silent.  Instead, she leads me across the room, into a bedroom.  There, lays a girl on the bed, sobbing.  This girl looks familiar to me now.  "That was me, back in 2010."  I turned to my right, and notice that my guide has changed.  She looks different than she did when I entered into the house from the beginning.  I recognize her now.  I put my hands over my face, and try to hide the tears that have welled up in my eyes.  She puts her hand on my shoulder, "it's okay, Matt, that was a long time ago.  Come, I have to show you something."  We walk back, out of the door, through the house.  We reach the front door.  She opens it.  I follow her out, but there is no grass, no trees.  We are inside of a building.  It looks eerily familiar to me.  I am led up a flight of stairs and brought down a corridor.  At the end, there is an open door.  We take a step inside of the room, into what looks like a meeting.  I can now recognize a young version of myself, in the front of the classroom, talking about upcoming events.  I survey the room.  A Best Buddies meeting.  It concludes soon after we stepped into the room.  The supervisor calls the meeting to an end, and asks the young leader of the meeting to go see her.  He walks over to the instructor.  "Matt, I'd like you to meet Ashley.  She's a buddy.  She is fun, friendly, and just wants someone to talk to."  They shake hands and begin to talk.  I turn to my right, and I am standing alone in the room, watching as the scene plays out.  I know where this is going, and I want to get out of here.  I turn and make my way down the corridor, hoping to find out where my guide was.  I think, 'what kind of sick joke is this!?'  Right then, as I step out into the main hallway of the school, she appears.  "Matt, it's me, Ashley.  I wanted to show you what happened to me.  So, I took you back to my old bedroom, as well as back to our high school, where we met.  You know how hard it was to grow up and be different from everybody else!?  You know that I couldn't help it right!?  It wasn't my fault.  All I wanted was a friend.  I called you numerous times.  We spoke a few times, but then you stopped picking up the phone.  Then I went on the computer one day, and saw that you had deleted me off of your friends list.  Those things made me sad.  I remember crying for weeks on end, uncontrollably."  My throat locked, I try to speak, "I--uh...didn't mean to...I'm so sorry!"  I look down and close my eyes, in utter embarrassment and guilt.  I look up, she's gone.  Silence.

"He is risen!  He is risen, indeed!"  I stand in the back of the sanctuary, watching as Dr. Berry recites the famous lines.  It's Easter Sunday, and what appears to be a bright and sunny day.  It has been so long since Dr. Berry was the pastor at our church.  Why is he preaching now?  Had the church rehired him since I have been here last?  Impossible.  "Matthew", a voice calls out to me.  I look in the pew directly in front of me.  A man, maybe in his early thirties.  He looks familiar, like someone that I may have seen in pictures before.  I know I have never met him!  I stretch out my hand to introduce myself.  I blink, and he is standing up, in front of me. "Get that hand outta here!! You act like you don't know me!" My mind draws a blank...who the heck is this guy!?  Before I can argue, I am in his grasp.  He gives me a big hug.  He takes a step back.  "I knew you wouldn't recognize me!"  By now, he is yelling.  His voice sounds like he belongs in Little Italy in New York.  I still can't place it.  Strange enough to my eyes, I see that no one in the congregation has turned around, as if they don't hear his booming voice.  As my attention comes back to focus on the man, he has disappeared.  Not this again, I think to myself.  "I'm over here!"  I look off to my left, in the mid-left section of the sanctuary seating.  He is standing in the middle of the pews, nearly on top of the members of the congregation.  I find myself walking over to him.  Do I really have a choice now!?  As I approach him, I feel like I have entered some sort of sick, twisted dream.  He is standing directly in front of my family, but everyone looks younger.  I glance down.  My mother pulls her hair out of her face as she recites the Doxology, I catch the date on the bulletin.  April 16, 2006.  Why am I here right now?  I don't get this.  I look up and the man is standing by the door, which leads out of the church.  He motions for me to go towards him.  We walk through the door, and we are in the dining room in my old house.  How many years has it been since I have eaten here?  West Tropical Way?  Is it still 2006?  My dad turns to my mother, "I can't believe what has been going on in the Middle East!  It doesn't look too promising to me.  How many more years do we have to stay over there before we retreat?"  I survey the room.  Dad sits at the head, directly across from my grandpa.  He looks sickly and frail.  My memory is back.  He died that year.  Just two weeks after Easter dinner.  It was his 'last supper', if you will.  It looks as though dinner has been long over.  Only one chair remains vacant.  I quickly realize that I am the one who is missing from the table.  I can hear some music coming from down the hall.  My old room.  Why did I leave the table so soon?  Before I can comprehend that I had said that aloud, "You were only 16...you had a lot going on.  You made family the last on your list of priorities."  I hang my head, listening in on the back and forth conversation at the table.  My grandpa's voice is so clear and distinct.  It immediately jogs my memory.  Pieces in images of our times together flash in my mind.  Palm Coast, St. Augustine, South Florida.  He sounds like he belongs in Little Italy or something.  I look up, in an attempt to make the connection.  The man is gone again.  I walk down to the hall.  I open the door to my old room.  I am in a hospital room.  Did they change my room?  I look around and see my family gathered around the hospital bed.  Again, I am not in the room.  I make my way over to the bed.  I stare into my sick grandpa's face.  There are wires going every which way, around him and in him.  Dad is holding his hand.  "Hey Dad, Matthew couldn't make it.  He's on a school trip.  But he sends his love."  My grandpa's face turns into a grimace.  I can't bare to look at him like this any longer.  I turn to walk away.  I am met face-to-face with my grandpa.  He's standing right in front of me.  "Hey, it's me, your grandpa.  I knew you wouldn't recognize me before.  You didn't know me when I was that young."  I remain silent.  My mind is a jumble.  "I took you back to the last time you saw me, on Easter.  And I know you were on your school trip when I was admitted into the hospital.  Plus, I never wanted you to see me like this.  I hope you learned something valuable out of all this.  Family is the most important thing.  You put all of your things in life before your family, and the memories that we have together are a blur to you now.  I see you still have my dog tag..."  I look down, and his dog tag is resting on my chest.  "I love you Matthew...I always have."  I turn my head to his voice, but he has left me again.

Water is dripping from my face, as I swing my arms around the room, in search of a towel.  Darn it, I knew I should have just hung it back up on the rack.  I open my eyes.  The dripping water doesn't make my vision any better. Shoot, I need to put my contacts in!  I open the bathroom drawer and fish around for my contacts case.  I quickly open the top and place the contact in the middle of my right index finger.  I move it into my right eye, then follow with the same procedure for my left eye.  I blink.  I see a towel on the rack next to me.  Man, I would never make it as a mole.  I'm blind as a bat these days.  I dry my face off, and look into the mirror.  Wait a second!  That can't be right.  I wipe the mirror with the towel.  This doesn't make any sense.  Why are there burns on my face?  I walk into my bedroom from the bathroom.  I notice clothes laid out on the bed for me.  I don't remember doing that.  As I approach the bed, I realize that the clothes are charred.  That is, what's left of them.  I open my closet.  Nothing.  I leave my room, and make my way out into the hallway.  I am in my old house in Miami.  I run downstairs.  I look into the family room.  There is a trail of blood that is leading to the front door.  I open the front door.  I am in a stadium.  It looks like the Orange Bowl.  It's a night game.  A balloon is being hit around the crowd.  I hear murmuring.  As the balloon gets closer, I notice that it is actually a blown up condom.  I blink.  It's hot outside, and extremely bright out now.  Did they play through the night!?  I hear screaming and pointing.  I follow everyone's finger to a woman in the front row.  She seems very drunk.  The crowd roars, as she lifts up her shirt.  I am in my grandparents house in Palm Coast.  I am in the bathroom.  I ran out of toilet paper!  I look under the sink.  Two magazines catch my attention.  I figure it'll provide as reading material, and pick them up.  I flip through them as I sit there.  I decide that I am going to take the magazines home after this trip.  I am in the cottage on the computer.  Dad comes into the office and tells me that he has to talk with me.  "Matthew, we see that you have been getting around our parental controls.  Can you explain the websites you have been visiting?"  I close my eyes and shake my head.  I open my eyes, and I am alone.  The room is dark.  I do not know where I am.  I hear a voice.  It sounds like my own voice.  The voice that never sounds right when you view the video of you being filmed, candidly.  "Why did you do the things you did?  No, no response to that!?  How can you ever expect to be looked upon with respect?  Honor?  You have disgraced yourself and your family.  What if no one was ever forgiving!?  Yes!  It was your fault.  You took it upon yourself to pick up a nasty addiction.  It led to your demise!  I don't care if you think I'm overreacting, because you know that you were wrong.  I was never happy with how you handled things!  I remember listening to your stupid sob stories about how you couldn't control yourself!!  You even went as far as searching for help.  No one is going to help you, Matthew.  No one."  I put my hands over my face.  I let out a scream.  God save me from my self.

"Matthew, my brother, open your eyes."  I open my eyes.  There is a very bright light coming into my room.  Wait!  I have seen this person before.  "Don't fret!  Yes, I know, you have seen me before."  Is this person a mind reader!?  "Get up."  I stand up.  In my room now.  All of my things are scattered around.  I search for something to bring with me.  I see my cell phone on the desk.  I reach for it.  "Leave everything."  Where the heck are we going!?  "Come, follow me."  I leave the room, quick on the heels of the person in front of me.  I would only be able to identify this person as a male, based on some distinct features.  He has a soft, yet deep voice.  His hair is long.  Course, but smooth.  He wears what looks like a tunic, or a robe.  Very ratty, by our standards, but very elegant in its own way.  He walks confidently, but his demeanor is gentle.  He leads me to an open field.  The grassy plain is shadowed over by trees.  "Do you know where we are?"  I shake my head.  "Here, let me show you."  He walks down a pathway.  We make our way to, what looks like, a lake.  The water is calm, still, quiet.  He turns to me, "don't fall behind.  I need to show you something."  He leads me away from the water, back onto the path.  We make our way into the trees.  It is hard to see any light, this far into the forrest.  The trees wrap around the path, sucking every bit of life that ever inhabited these parts before.  I am lost in my surroundings, and I seem to fall quite a ways behind him.  "Come close to me, I will lead you out of this darkness.  Do not be scared.  They're not as evil as they look."  I nod my head and come back on his heels.  Up ahead.  There is a break in the trees.  He places his staff on the branch of the tree, and it makes way for us.  We enter an open area.  The ground is still, yet so alive.  The plants sway in the wind, yet still stand erect.  There is a waterfall.  No, there are two.  And I can see more in the distance.  Where do they flow into?  I am perplexed, to say the least.  I see animals frolicking, with no fear of being someone else's prey.  I see people walking around.  They move slowly, yet still confident in each step.  There is a soft hum in the air.  The smell, is like nothing I have ever experienced before.  It is refreshing and strong at the same time.  The sky!  Yes, how could I not notice.  It is very bright, but it isn't hot.  This doesn't look real.  I turn to see my leader, bent down in a stream.  He is running water over his hands.  "Come, I want to show you something."  I walk over to him.  I crouch down, so I can see.  "Look."  He raises his hands out of the water.  "This was done to me, so you could be free.  Early on, your life was filled with confusion.  You got caught up in a lot of things that you feel that you shouldn't have. But when you caught yourself, you asked for God's help.  Why is that?"  Silenced, I shrugged my shoulders.  "Because God's grace was given to you, as a gift, through me.  And in times of struggle, you turned to God.  That is why you are here."  Still trying to process all that was being said, I was able to mutter out a few words, 'where am I?'  He put his scarred hand on my shoulder.  "You are in God's expansive kingdom.  Welcome."

That morning was hard for the Friedman family.  All of his family and friends were there, clad in black.  Tears were shed, and memories were shared.  As people left the service, there was an overwhelming whispering about Matthew's fearless efforts.  "He wasn't a fireman."  "He wasn't even supposed to be there."  A little girl, maybe five years old, walked up to Mrs. Friedman, "Thank you."  "For what, darling?"  "Mr. Friedman saved my life."

Tree of Life

Every Saturday morning, when I was in elementary school, I used to go to Temple Beth Shalom in Miami Beach.  I would partake in various activities centered around the Jewish faith.  One of our common activities was music time.  During that period of what felt like forever to me, we would sing random Jewish songs.  Aside from the traditional holiday melodies, there is only one song that resonates in my mind.  It was called, It's a Tree of Life.  It went like this:

It is a tree of life to them that hold fast to it

And all of its supporters are happy

This past Sunday was Father's Day, so I hopped in the car and made my way down to Miami Beach to spend the day with my father and the family.  They were dying to see a movie, called The Tree of Life.  I vaguely remember hearing about it, but it sounded familiar to me.  

Last week was a rough one for me!!  I battled temptation, and gave in several times, letting Erika and myself down.  I had also began a little internally kept, self-cursing method, in an attempt to keep my head level while battling with my own thoughts.

I sat in the theatre, about fifty percent full, as the previews rolled away.  On the black screen appears two bible verses:

Job 38:4, 7 Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth?  When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for Joy?

Why is it that when we get caught in the rain, we run to shelter, but if we are in an enclosed area when it rains, the sight and smell of rain entices us to run in it?  

As I watch the movie, I can't help but think about how incredibly made it is.  I have never seen a movie that has kept me thinking as much as this one.  Also, I am absolutely taken aback by how it is written and made.  The creativity is displayed in full form, keeping me alert and focused.  

I was in the garage with my father, attempting to reorganize some things.  I felt a cool breeze, and before I could think about it, the rush of rain echoed through the garage.  I stood at the edge of the open door and peered out.  It smelled sweet to my nostrils.  I took a step head outside.  The cool water ran over my head and neck, until I was nearly engulfed in the droplets.  

The movie concludes to the chatter of confusion.  Not one person, who was talking about the movie they had just seen, knew what the movie was about.  I would say that this movie is not for everyone, yet I would definitely encourage everyone to see it with an open mind.  It is the kind of movie that has the possibility of broadening ones perspective, but requires a large amount of thought and attention.

Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me

Hallelujah, all my stains are washed away, washed away

I was one of the few people who got the movie, and it changed me.  It gave me a fresh perspective on my life.  When I see how faith in God and Christ helps guide others' lives, even in fictional movies, I am moved.  I have a newfound passion and desire to serve the Lord even more than before.  I have made a promise to myself, that even in the worst of times, there is no reason to fret the possible outcomes.  Instead, I have come to terms with the fact that God is in control, and in those times, HE will be the one that pulls me out of the mess I am in.  I have the understanding that God is my tree of life, and as long as I hold fast to it, I will forever be well and happy!

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I have also come to terms with the fact that God is not always going to be doing his work solo.  I have learned that he tends to use other people or things as vessels to put his works on display.  If the question is, where is my vessel!?  Just pray and be patient, because the day she comes into your life, you'll know! ✝

Beauty

is in the eye of the beholder...

It's truly amazing what you can find!  A place, hidden, 25 (or so) miles away.

We get off I-95, make a few turns and we are here.  Upon stepping out into this new environment, I am perplexed.  I look around, expecting to find some sort of direction, anything, a yellow brick road?  I look behind me.  I was attracted to this familiar sound.  The sound of sneakers on a gym floor drew my eyes upon the county jailhouse.  Looking up at this monstrous building, I swallowed hard.  Immediate thought, "This is going to be interesting."

The city of Miami is usually hugely overshadowed by the night life, the rich neighborhoods, and the vast amount of tourists. This is true for good reason.  As humans, life is lived in the fast lane, only slowing down in order to take glance at the luxurious things.  These material things are commonly perceived as beautiful.

So the routine begins: lights out at 11, up at 7.  A full list of projects and locations are posted on the wall waiting for us to move at full steam.  Breakfast is eaten, the lunch is packed and we are on our way by 830.  Monday:  Touching Miami with Love.  We begin our journey down the street towards Overtown.  It is about a 10-15 block walk, but it all looks the same to me.  With every run down house we pass, I think of how privileged we are to have the things we do.  We are greeted at TML with two great hearts, Jason and Angel.  They run the entire operation, helping children to be occupied and entertained through camps and after school day care.  Our job is to help with various odds and ends throughout the building.  We complete everything by 4 and head back to where we came.  Day 1=good, successful, but seemingly slower for me than the rest of the group with us.

The upper middle class families bask in their ability to eat, shower, and sleep in a comfortable bed whenever they please, without skipping a beat.  Why would anyone choose to not have these luxuries?  Why doesn't everyone have everything?  Why is it, that most people don't even turn their eye to those in need, as if they are more human than the underprivileged?

Tuesday:  Miami Rescue Mission.  We take the van a few streets over from our location.  Graffiti covers the walls of this part of the city.  People lay on the sidewalk.  They hug the doorsteps of the buildings.  We enter the warehouse, and get to work sifting through all of the materials in storage.  Apparently a party is going to be thrown by this organization in the near future and we turn out to be a BIG help in rearranging their things in an orderly fashion.  Before we depart, we are given a tour of the entire organization.  They cover a few street blocks, and the vast amount of buildings and employees make the Miami Rescue Mission possible.  Day 2=better than day 1; still a bit lackadaisical and a bit slow.

Homelessness surrounds us.  It is all over, yet we tend to ignore it.  We sit in our air conditioned cars with music blasting, as there are people walking by your window wondering...wanting a measly penny from you.  We walk swiftly on the street when we pass a person laying on the ground, and immediately place a tight grip on our belongings, as if the resting person is some sort of thief.

Wednesday:  Yvonne Learning Center.  We hop in the van and get on the road for a little longer of a journey.  As we pull off the highway, it becomes evident that I am the minority in these parts of town.  Little Haiti.  We arrive at the center and make our way inside.  Patrick, the said leader of the organization, greets us with great enthusiasm and starts the day off with his story of why he is where he is today.  As we walk through the school, the children in the classrooms stand and greet us with a kind good morning.  Then we are split up into groups, and  Patrick lays out a list of tasks to be completed for the day.  We conclude the day with me in a mango tree.  Patrick has an apparent affinity for mangos, and he went to great lengths to get them.  Odd to figure that, even though he was not the one in the tree.  He blamed his back.  I just hope, now looking back, that he didn't have a mango tree accident of his own.  Day 3=The best day so far!  Went by very fast, felt as though a lot was completed, and related very well with our leader, Patrick.

Why do the majority of people clench up and pick up speed as they pass by someone foreign to them?  Why is it that when people are met face to face with someone of the opposite race, they can't help but awkwardly say [with all of the nervousness possible in their voice] "hey. how are you?"  Why are 95% or more of the jokes told, racial?  Why are people so stuck on labeling by race?

Thursday:  second day at the Yvonne Learning Center.  Again, back to the lobby where we await Patrick's arrival.  I wonder what sort of adventure he may have in store for us.  I also ponder his thoughts regarding our work from the day before.  Sure enough, as he addresses us, the first thing he talks about is Wednesday's work!  He tells us that we all did a good job and he has a lot of things for us to do.  We get to it, and before we know it our half day there is over.  Goodbyes are said, and we drive from little Haiti for the final time on the trip.  It was a half day because we had a dinner planned for us back at our place of origin.  We have a little bit of down time, then we start to set up for the dinner.  Everything is in place just in time for the flood of people through the doors.  The less fortunate, the needy, the homeless, come in to receive a hot meal, a shower, and have the option of swapping out their clothes for some new, clean ones.  Day 4=Incredible!!  The day flew by, and it felt like it was the most productive day of the trip, even though there was a lot of down time between our morning work, and the evening dinner.

We expect so much from this world.  That is the problem.  Why do we live for this world; the things in it, the people in it?  What is so important that we need to have, all for us?  What we all need is God!  Jeremiah 29:13 says, You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  

We were told on Sunday, when we arrived, that the mission of the D.O.O.R. Network is to see the face of God in the city.  By the final day, I was able to comprehend that statement and I saw God's face in everything we did throughout the entire time we were on the trip.  The face of God shouldn't only be seen on a mission trip.  The face of God is something that should be seen every single day, in everything that we do.

Once I put my heart into it, God showed me true beauty.  The kind of beauty that you can't find in a magazine--the kind of beauty that you just might have to go to the slums of a neighboring city to find.

Perhaps Love

This is attempt number three at writing this blog post.  It has become increasingly difficult for me to piece together my thoughts into words, apparently...

This last week or so has been a moment of clarity and realization for me.

Why was I so afraid to say how I felt?  How come I had the facial expression down pat, the heart pounding away in my chest, searching for a way out, but the words would only get so far.  Reaching the tip of my tongue, only for my teeth to cut them off, out of sight and mind from the outside world.

Why don't we go to God for everything?  What the heck are we holding back for!?  God will not be mad, God will not ignore it, God will not look down on us in a negative light.  Justifications are useless at this point because God is waiting for us to tell Him.  He obviously knows our exact thoughts and wants, as well as our needs.  He is just allowing us to come around to telling Him.  I suppose this is His way to test our trust for Him, His will, and His strength.  Rest assured, and I promise, God will not be overwhelmed with our requests.
Luke 11:9-10 reads:
9 "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened."

Translation:  Come to God with everything, and He will give to you what you have requested.  This doesn't mean if you ask to win the lottery, He will give it to you, but you must seek it.  In doing so, trusting that God is there taking care of the situation and showing you the way.

I could escape the words for the moment, assuring myself that maybe next time would be best.  I sought advice about it.  When was the right time?  How would I know?  I sought advice from everyone BUT God.  

The other day, I was told about a song called Perhaps Love, by John Denver.  I listened to it while doing about 317 million other things.  I replied to my friend that is was a 'good song.'  Hindsight being 20/20, there is definitely a reason for her showing me this song.  Not to seduce me, or confess her love for me (which she doesn't), but for me to see what John Denver was talking about at a later date.  That day is today.  Immediately upon starting this post, this song came to mind.  I looked it up, and read the lyrics.  

Side note confession: I would love to become a writer.  I feel like I have enough in my heart to become one, but I am unsure if I am creative enough to put my words and thoughts into an intriguing format. :/

I found an interesting correlation between the words from Luke's Gospel and this song:

Perhaps love is like a window

Perhaps an open door

It invites you to come closer

It wants to show you more

I prayed.  I asked for advice.  I asked to be shown the way.  I asked for a way out of my own head.  I asked for my head to be numbed and silenced, to allow my heart to be heard.  I understood that 'actions speak louder than words', but I asked that the words would serve as a form of clarity.

Outside of the door, curiosity is at its peak.  I glance at the door in wonder.  It seems as though there is something hidden by the door.  Something much more than what I can see from the outside.  So I knock, ring the doorbell, hoping that someone will answer.  I long for the creaking noise of the hinges, the appearance of the guard at the door, the ability to peer inside of the doorway for a moment.  A moment long enough to take a peak.  Relieving the tension, worry, and wonder; but not long enough to subside the desire to push aside the door for a longer, closer look.  

I made a promise to myself.  I promised that I would restrain myself from telling someone I love them until I knew for sure that it was what I felt.  I further promised myself that even if I wholeheartedly felt that way about someone, that I would have to hear it first in order for me to express my feelings.

When I am asked to come inside, my eyes become glazed over.  I don't know what to look at first.  I am unaware of how to think about what I'm seeing.  I regress to my infancy stage, taking everything in, overloading my senses.  I am unsure of how long I may be welcomed here.  I have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the ability to step foot in this foreign place.  I turn to the keeper of the place, and he has disappeared from the doorway.  I am alone.

I broke my promise.  I couldn't help it.  A feeling came over me, and as my heart pounded and the goosebumps rose on my skin, the words flowed from my mouth uncontrollably.

Looking around the place, in search of who was once there, I see a light.  Walking towards the light, I begin to hear a noise.  A noise like no other.  A noise that cannot be expressed by words, or relatable to any sound.  It is as though time has completely stopped, and I am so transfixed on the light that my stare cannot be broken.  Approaching the light, a figure is seen.  It looks like a person, but I am unable to differentiate who it may be.

Days later, in the middle of a deep conversation, the favor was returned.  Another promise had been broken.  Another heart handed over to its new keeper.  One who had given his heart, left with an open cavity that lay waiting, had been filled.

I am now close enough to see that there is a face in the light.  It has become very recognizable to me.  The look I see on the face is beautiful.  A face that poets write about.  A face authors write books about. A face producers make movies about.  A face flush red with a newfound feeling.  All things aside, four eyes now transfixed on each other.  No words are spoken.  All that is felt is each other's heartbeat.