Practice

Her name is Zoey. She is a blue pit bull. She is amazing.

Originally, my new roommate Farming Punk inquired if we were interested. Me and Mocha pretty much balked. We were still settling into the place. But then one night he brought her over and we were enamored suckers. She's been with us for about 5 weeks. And now she's getting big and feisty and chewing on everything. But she's still so adorable. You just have to love her.

This morning, as I hazily watched her find a suitable spot in the grass, my mind drifted to the parallels between taking care of her and being a parent to a human being. I was awakened only moments before by her hysterical yelps. And the helpless little thing did her business. I was proud of her. I was proud of an animal for performing its bodily functions in a suitable manner outside my living space. Where does this love come from?

I could draw a spiritual link here, but I feel I'd be undercutting it. Now coming upon her 12th week of life, she is approaching the dog equivalent of the terrible two's. Lately she's clawing and chewing up everything. I've paused from writing this post eight times just to grab some random item out of her mouth. She's a treasure though. Growing up in an apartment, I was deprived of this pleasure. But so far so good. I'm still learning. But then I remember that she is too.

The Ties That Bind

Towards the end of our workday, Special K found a quiet moment to tell me some private concerns. Now the content isn’t what’s important but rather the knowledge that she felt comfortable enough to vent in a way, I am honestly very gratified when I can be a good friend. Probably because, I usually am not one.

Throughout my life, I have had a plethora of friendships. Sadly I have not remained as consistent with them as I would like. I link it mostly to the only child aspect of my upbringing. It’s innate in me to seek out solitude. But funny enough I also learned to like social interaction, so much to the point that when I have a truly awesome experience I almost feel embarrassed at how much I treasure the moments. 

There are a lot of influences in this soufflé. First I grew up only child. Siblings are like practice for the real world, so I was already behind. Then I grew up in an apartment complex in a city which was mostly filled with the old and Jewish. I really only had one consistent playmate and even that wasn’t too often since he’s like 2 years younger and went to a completely different school. And I lived two lives. The school year parts of the calendar were dominated by my church brethren, since I went to my home church’s grade school. But my summers were spent in the upscale neighborhood adjacent to my apartment complex. And even back at grade school, I was skipped and so I was separated from the couple of friends I did have. Then I went to high school in the Bronx. So I didn’t get to share as many experiences and also some of these basic tenets of friendship that are embedded in those experiences.

I’m lucky though. Somewhere along the line I realized how much friendships mean to me. I keep text messages for way too long just because there was a funny exchange or it reminds me of a special event. And now I’m realizing that I have let some just drift to the wayside and that is truly sad. I’m very happy for the ones I have. I’d like to reclaim ones that have fallen into ill shape. I want to start ones that may never have gelled early, but I’d like to salvage and build.

These friendships are somehow very sustaining. I need to put some work in sustaining them.

Jukebox: Strange Fruit Project - Special

It's Not A Competition

Earlier this week, Bassline inquired if I was down for some praise team practice. I jumped at the chance. Since I was introduced to the concept of praise team, I've had reverence for them. For the uninitiated, praise team is simply a group of people who lead the praise and worship section of a worship service. Usually it averages about 4 or 5 and is coed so that all the amazing harmonies can be projected. During college, the praise team had the power to make my day. The rest of the service could be banal, distracting, and even upsetting. But if the praise team's section was on point, the heavens were lifted for me.

Anytime I get to see people practice I try to go. I'm not so sure why I am always into the inner workings of things or the motivations behind such actions, but they always intrigue me. This time around, we were dealing with a haphazard praise team, busily setting up things for a special day at their church the next day. Mostly they were unprepared, yet wanted to be perfectionist. You couldn't fault them. They were still jovial and about Jesus, which is what the whole thing is supposed to be about. But you could also hear frustration, cause even they knew they weren't entirely getting it.

Out of nowhere, I felt a pull to guide some of the ladies. And point out some mic issues. And issue some advice on tempo. I don't know where it came from. Save for Bassline and his two friends, I didn't know any of these people. And within minutes they were asking for more help. I wish I knew more about the thing I love so much. I wish I had stuck with those piano lessons and learned theory. I wish I listened to more of the music so that I would know every part.

But I think knowing too much would take away some of the allure. I analyze everything enough. Praise time is the only time, I feel myself letting go completely. Singing your heart out with a bunch of like-minded people is part of my vision of heaven. And thankfully the team is never in competition. They just all want to win.

It Looks Like A Beautiful Morning

I woke up with the idea of going to church, but I wasn't exactly feeling the pull. I still was planning on going, but then I remembered that we are one of those technology forward churches and our service is online. Free of guilt and totally comfortable.

That revelation surely helped my disposition. With that knowledge, I ventured on a jaunt through my neighborhood. In the house, I was faithful and kept it with the gospel I am slowly rediscovering. On the walk, I fell to temptation and listened to my song of the week. And joy springs eternal.

Everyone seemed in a chipper mood. After such a messy day yesterday, the most appealing characteristics of autumn became evident. Young couples ferried around their children in bliss. Fathers actually spent time with their kids and lovingly interacted. At one point I expected one of those birds from Cinderella to sit upon my shoulder and start humming the hypnotic hook I had on repeat.

And I picked up a free poster and photo frame from the framing place that decided to be nice to its neighbors today. Plus I got an awesome card for my mom's upcoming birthday. There's no point to all this, but I figure after such a maudlin day yesterday, I should document my happiness.

Aaaaah

It was a lovely autumn day today. The sun was out enough and the air was refreshingly crisp, even when it was a bit too cold. The house at full capacity was actually more manageable and enjoyable than yesterday. I had a playful conversation with a boy who'd had a hangover over the weekend and the boys actually responded to directions without temper tantrums. By 8:30 p.m., it was quiet. And though I got a bit of good natured ribbing about the state of my face the swelling has subsided a bit. The Patriots performed a clinic and so all of New England is happy. And my prescription of my grandfather's elixir (read: cognac) to nurse the tender pains in my jaw and elbow is only helping to accentuate my content mood. Plus I get to go back to my boys tomorrow. Life's not that bad.

(The Mets issued an apology note to all their fans which brought me a bit of comfort and hopefully closure. It's still bittersweet though which is why I didn't include it with the rest of the positive posting. I really don't feel like watching any baseball unless the Red Sox make the Series.)

Encore

After a two hour conversation with Mira that largely revolved around work matters, I'm inspired to share more examples of goodness my boys exhibited today.

- The seven year old I mentioned before wanted to play Sorry! again with imaginative dice. He actually found me to play it. And earlier when he ran in to our meeting, he immediately stopped, looked around at all the adults with serious expressions and said "Smells like a meeting in here." He then proceeded to run to his room and dive on the bed. He also advised a client to go sleep in their room so he wouldn't be disrupting. That's our 7 year old mentally retarded resident.

- I did play an intense game of Ultimate Frisbee. It was probably the best organized sport activity during my tenure. It helps that it was four overgrown male staff getting ultra competitive and luckily the kids bought into it enough to avoid most issues. Mocha was showing off his grass stains as badges of honor.

And now I get to sleep till whenever and recover from such a festive week.

The Child Whisperer

Today there were three interactions with my boys that are indicative of why I go to work.

The first was as I picked up one boy from our version of after school detention. He was in a chipper mood because he had done his consequence without an issue and was leaving on time. When I came he was trying to meditate with his fingers crossed. As we were walking back, I took a look at his homework and commented on how well his penmanship has progressed. He graciously said thank you and he also just commented on how bad it used to be but that he kept working on it. And then to add the cherry on top, he complimented one of his peers on how good his handwriting had become. Seeing humanity in a child is sometimes the only thing that saves humanity.

That same peer he commented is the subject of my second interaction. This boy is 7 going on 8, but really he is more like 3 or 4 tops. He was having a very erratic day and eventually I had to take him away from everyone just so he could truly settle. When he came out of it, we didn't immediately rejoin the community but we played the game of Sorry he pulled out. Of course there were no dice and all the pieces were not there, but he still went about the task of setting up the board and telling me what colors I was assigned. We played for 30 minutes with imaginative dice. We cupped our hands, shook them, and let them roll out on the board, calling out the number that only we saw in our heads. And that lasted for 30 minutes. Amazing.

The final interaction is the most moving one for me. One of our boys is 14 and smart. He is close to leaving but he keeps making silly little decisions that set him back. This night, he had a blowout because we wouldn't print a specific picture of Jessica Alba for him to sketch. This is the same one who I bought artwork from. After he almost got his friend in trouble and we almost escalated into a jawing match, we had a talk. I knew the window hitting wasn't about that silly picture. It was about the boy who keeps getting in his grill at school. The girlfriend he feels betrayed him. The home life that is not only below his expectations, but now is uncertain. Sometimes dysfunction is valuable just because of the perverse stability it can offer. But now that divorce seems imminent, the uncertainty makes him even more crazy. And there was school and other things, but just see the flood come out. Just to hear the worries. It felt good to hear him just admit it to himself. I was probably extra sentimental cause I had recently had the same venting experience with my mom around the same time last week. It was nice to know that he felt comfortable enough to have the rare explosion of emotion with me. And it just speaks to why I do what I do. It's really all about those kids. I live to see that progression in all its forms.

This Morning

Our top story this morning is the appearance of a stray black dog on the porch this morning. As I was reading my book, I heard my roommate leave for her appoinment with the doctor. After her initial footsteps were gone, I heard some lesser footsteps. I assumed that it was just the particular way the wind was whistling through the trees and returned to my reading. But the glint of something moving caught my eye above the book, and there was a new stranger. He walked the length of the porch and came towards me. He stared me dead on, moved slightly towards me, then turned and went. He then went round the corner and was gone. I was so baffled by the chain of events, I stayed glued to my seat. I tried to resume reading, but needed to rise to make sure what I had viewed was not an illusion. I rose and rushed to see if I could catch at least a glimpse of the dog. Imagine my surprise when I saw nothing!

But he emerged from behind a neighbor's bush and normal breathing returned to my system. As homeostasis returned, my paranoia still did not relent. I thought somehow I viewed it as a sign. Should I get a dog like that? Does a black dog predict something more omnous? Sleep deprivation makes one silly. Maybe divine providence was guiding me along the path in some way.

So as I was talking to Doodlebug, my newest friend six hours away in a country where the young are so mighty they beat Brazil in football matches, I was searching for any symbolism regarding black dogs. Churchill once referred to his own depression as his "black dog." It also was a hit for Led Zeppelin in the early 70s. The Wikipedia article alleges that either the sexually suggestive anthem was titled for a loitering black dog in the studio or might be more of a secretive invocation to a divine being due to its similarities with a novel's name for a club of occult.

Yeah I'm starting to lose interest too, though I was feeling kind of spiritual at that moment. In my second trip to the porch once Doodlebug was kicked out, I viewed my neighbors playing catch in the street. They are in their mid 30s - early 40s yet in the middle of the day, they were in the middle of the street playing catch. While I admire the carefree attitude and playfulness at such an age, their regular dallaince with permanent transience is troubling. If I can somehow stack some paper so I can support my whims and fancies, that would be lovely. But I suppose I will hustle as hard as I have to so my wife and children can everything they need and lead the life I wish to have. If I can't live it for myself, at least I can live it through my family.

Okay I need to write my e-mail. I missed writing on this thing so I dropped something super quick.

Play Ball

For some reason, my body chose to wake up this morning at the hour of 7:30 this morning. On a regular Wednesday, I probably wouldn't have cared so much. It's usually an early day since I have to go in for work at noon instead of two. But today the day is mine because I had vacation time to burn before my anniversary, which is technically tomorrow. What better way to spend those last couple of hours to give myself a three day work week.

Which is exactly why one would not want to be up so early when one does not need to be. But it all worked out because I came to the conclusion that has slowly been realized over the past couple of months.

I love sports.

Though I know it's probably time to leave the Bay State, being here has been responsible for so many positive things in my life. Chief amongst the many plusses is probably learning to truly remember and enjoy. And being sucked in to Red Sox and Patriot nation helped rekindle the flame that was once much more passionate. It's the only way I can explain sucking in SportsCenter, the televised broadcast of a sports radio show, and the first parts of the ESPN version of the Today show.

Sons usually derive their interests from their fathers. When I think of it, my father had few interests or hobbies in life. There is photography which I have a passing interest in, but every Sunday I know I was watching the NBA all the way back when Dick Stockton was calling games for CBS. And that's probably where the seed took place.

Seeing that I devoured whatever reading material was in our house, the Sports Illustrated subscription for Dad also benefited me, and not just the annual swimsuit edition. Mom picked up on this and moved me from Highlights for Children to Sports Illustrated for Kids. From there it was a wrap. In time, my breakfast viewing transformed from reruns of Sonic The Hedgehog and Widget to the rotating band of personalities of SportsCenter. While others were memorizing the fight moves of Hulk Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior, I marvelled at the beauty of Kareem's sky hook, even Magic's cute baby imitation. As others mastered Super Mario, I taught myself how to read the standings in the paper and compute averages, somehow nurturing my bookishness in the presumably simple area of win or lose. I drew ire from my schoolteachers not for class clownery or bullying, but rather my insistence to read the USA Today sports section during class.

That spirit developed over time. SportsCenter grew from 30 minutes in the mornng to 60 somewhere along the line and I found myself getting to school late a little more often. Basketball was my primary baptism. It was definitely my father's favorite and we both had a special place for Magic Johnson. He called me at school to tell me that he had contracted HIV and would be retiring. But even that is indicative of how I would approach sports from then on. I think that the ages of 8 - 13 are pretty important in the permanent impressions of a sports fan. This is where you are smart enough to comprehend but still young and innocent enough to be fed anything and totally believe. Since I was reading Sports Illustrated, which was national and unbiased, and also not limited to the mainstream sports, I just learned about everything. The black boy from New York City loved Magic Johnson, Frank Thomas, Emmitt Smith, Brian Leetch, and Dale Earnhardt. I skipped the Simpsons to watch Pavel Bure and the Canucks lose to the Rangers and see Mark Messier act like a loon with Lord Stanley's cup. As I watched it live, I prayed that my premonition that Dale died when he hit the wall was wrong, only to stop watching NASCAR for 5 years because of it. I make a point of watching the lacrosse championships every year, at least a half. I might buy a PSP just so I can play FIFA cause I love soccer that much.

As for my own allegiances, well it goes back to that formative period. Remember I was getting national perspective from Sports Illustrated which doesn't exactly foster any attitude except for fairness and just enjoying everything about sports. Plus the apathy of the city in general plus the dearth of successful teams didn't exactly inspire much fervor. Those Philly and Cleveland fans who dust themselves off after season with othing to show for it were indoctrinated by their fathers at that age that's who we root for. My program director is a perfect example. Raised in Connecticut till his early tweens, he was a Yankees fan. Upon moving to Massachusetts, the intense peer pressure - and boy is it intense - did not sway him to the Sox. The late 80s and early 90s were pretty quiet in New York, save for the Giants. Everybody else sucked. The Mets had lost their star players to free agency and cocaine. Donnie Baseball was the sole star on a frustrating Yankee franchise. The Knicks were ambling in the Eastern Conference. We won't speak of the Jets. Uhhh hockey what? In addition, Dad had no allegiance as a Jamaican immigrant. I loved Magic Johnson and therefore I loved the Lakers. So from then on I've been a fan of the individual athlete and whatever team he or she plays for. I hate the fickleness of it sometime. I'm jelaous of my boy Mocha and his undying devotion to anything Patriots and to a lesser degree Red Sox. Something about the commitment to heartbreak and the hope for victory is attractive. With sports, the most attractive thing to me is the game. I love to watch whatever it is I'm watching played. If I'm rooting for a team and they win, that's lovely. If they don't I still feel like I've enjoyed it. Lately I've always been pulling something new.

I think most sports fans can attest to that. It's the reason highlight reels are popular in the first place. Even though every clip is not going to include your player or team, you still watch for the simple fact that the act occurred at all and to relish it along with every one else. There is the intensity involved as well that somehow travels to the viewer. I was once so superstitious I though I wouldn't get into Duke because I didn't watch a game with my complete attention and Kentucky pulled off one of the biggest comebacks in NCAA Basketmball Tourney history. During last year's Division Series, I watched an entire Mets game from the same chair, topless, with my Mets visor cocked to my right side just so.

But there's something involved with the camaraderie as well. Though I love to highlight the individual, my favorite exhibitions are when the team works together. I liked Magic so much because he was an orchestrator. I fell in love with the Red Sox during my stay here because of the way they play, like a team. Same for the Patriots. And thank God its the same for my re-adopted Mets. I always try to teach my kids, if they feel like listening and seem like they want to understand, to share and move the ball around. I love the technique of it. I love the spontaneity. I love it all.

And the camaraderie aspect can probbably explain why I was quietly following the Mets all those years. Dad used to take me to baseball games pretty regularly, but we had no real allegiance so it was just a matter of motivation. I ended up at Shea more often than the Bronx just because of the proximity. I've known that route since I was seven (BQE to the Grand Central Parkway). I used to get excited to go to LaGuardia Airport just because I knew I would see Shea and its corny neon baseball stick figures on the walls. I remember feeling cold and distant in Yankee Stadium whereas Shea was always comfortable. Sitting on the third base line seeing Daryl Boston launch one into center left and seeing that apple rise in the outfield subconsciously hooked me. I remembere seeing Mookie Wilson stealing a base and getting all the way home on a throwing error. And something about that shade of blue with that shade of orange was strangely attracting. I recall being excited when we signed Bobby Bonilla for the largest contract ever, then being flatly disappointed when he ended up sucking. The lockout came and further eroded what had never been firmly in place. But Robin Ventura and Al Leiter brought me back with Grand Slam singles and ageless gems from the mound. There has been Kaz. But I've watched Reyes develop from a liability to a treasure and Wright being isolated that he can be the new face of baseball.

I will sally forth in my love of all things athletic. I've even become more athletic in my post pubescent years. I love it too when I get the chance. Only my insecurity in my underdeveloped abilities keeps me from going out more often. Please believe that a joy that laid nascent for a bit is fast arising again. Glad it's here.

And Now Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Since the wee hours of Monday morning, I have not had internet service. This is something that has been annoying at worst and pretty tolerable overall. Every once in a while I did have the notion to check for an important e-mail or search for some random item on the internet, but they weren't life or death so things were cool.

(I did wish I could have blogged a conversation me and Mocha had the other night on our way home. We were trying to figure out why music, video games, and DVD's were released on Tuesdays. How did they come upon this arbitrary day? Wouldn't it make sense to move it to Thursday? You beat the bootleggers. People would like to have it for their weekends. Who wouldn't love to test out the new game over the weekend or play that new CD on your vacation up the coast? It just makes sense. And we would get to hear new stuff much earlier. Just a thought brought to you by Mocha Latte.)

Today I got to go to the girls' program because they needed a male staff just in case this one particularly big girl had an issue. At first I was reluctant, but I eventually warmed to it after the lovely reception from the program coordinator and some of the girls I've worked with over there. Even though I played with Bratz dolls for most of the evening, it was a wonderful change of pace. I got to dance. I got to sing. I had fun. And the girls are more appreciative. I'm not sure if it's something that's natural or learned, but they are. They are just more expressive too. I think what would grind on me if I worked there regularly would be how often they are emotional, which is nightly. My boys aren't emotional that often and we usually respond to their physical outbursts. The emotions might come much later and with a whole other staff. But like Wu-Tang, I'm for the children and I'll work with either set.

The cool part of tonight was realizing how awesome music is. Banana skipped ahead on the Robin Thicke she was pumping on the way home to hear just one section of the song "Complicated." Just the simple way he sang this half bar of music tickles Banana just so. After it was over, it was on to the next track. Abrupt as it may seem, I am totally the same way. There's a bass lick at the end of the chorus in The Spinners "I'll Be Around" that always gets me.

Anyway that's all for now. More postings to follow since I am celebrating early Friday this week.

In Appreciaion

Today I thank God for so much:

- His existence, amazing unconditional love, and never-ending blessings

- My mom, who understood so much without me uttering a word

- A good sense of direction and the ability to go it alone sometimes

- Posh for not cussing me out and understanding I needed to be alone

- The strength to ask for help

- People who believe in me

- Voicemail, which had me call back Testimony, whose conversation was the most unexpected and lovely of blessings

- The nation's capital for being here and being so great to be in

- Walter C. Pena Community Park, which plays host to a live soccer match, children who let a big stranger kick a ball around with them, and families with fathers who were thoroughly enjoying playing with their toddlers

- The MySpace bulletin where my childhood schoolmate admitted she was just learning how to ride a bike and broke her toe, showing it's never too late to try something

- The thought to actually ask the Starbucks barista for my favored item which was unlisted on the menu

- The pomegranate juice blend that resulted

- Because He's wonderful and He will bring me through

Just One Catalyst

I currently am posting from the beautiful Washington D.C. in the company of Posh and also Precious. It's been pretty fun thus far but something is starting to happen that is interesting and exciting all the time.

I love people.

Not a life changing statement. Something I've known for a while. I've told people that I would have been a sociology or anthropology major. But for some reason today, I am enjoying people even more. Maybe it's being so comfortable around Posh or just the general aura I am getting from the city. For some reason, I am approaching and interacting with strangers for no reason. Nothing too deep or too involved but it's lovely nonetheless.


So far, I have complimented a young lady on her funky but awesome hairstyle. I've also met T.O.P., a man who was dancing outside a car at the waterfront as he consumed crawfish. As we talked, I found that he was 85 (hence the look in the second pic), was in World War II, and has family throughout Brooklyn. His companion Sabrina also told me my new hat looked slick and that I seemed open to gay pride. So is Posh.


Anyway it's pretty fun and I need to figure out a way to maximize my interactions in a healthy fashion. Back to enjoy the people.

In A Giving Mood

For some reason, I am in a very generous mood. It's not like I am some sort of miser on the regular. I think most people who regularly interact with me would say that I am a giving person. Today, though, I feel even more giving. There is too much to enjoy for me to keep it to myself. I honestly just want to share.

The good feeling one gets from giving is amazing. And I'm not talking about the ego boost from helping somebody else. In moderation, I guess that's fine, but there's just a natural good feeling linked with the act ogf giving, regardless if the act is appreciated or not. I honestly enjoy the times when I help out or give and the recipient is unaware of the help or at least the person who provided it. I do need to hear the appreciation every once in a while but too much makes me uncomfortable.

Why I am this way, I do not know. I shall sally forth however.

Somebody's Manic

Yeah I'm laughing hysterically at the smallest of provocations. Just an update. I return to my ebullience. I leave you with two of the sickest goals in the history of soccer. Scary how similar they are. And that both players are Argentinian. And the goals happened like 20 years apart (The one on the right was last week). Enjoy

Comparatif Maradona - Messi
Uploaded by PeteRock

Trying To Cut Down On Superlatives

Let's evaluate the situation.

- In one minute, my bank account will return to the land of triple digits. Its return will be longer as well due to my pick up of overtime and a lovely fake holiday that Masachusetts created so that I can claim it as extra pay.

- I watched my second straight day of Champions' League Soccer. (Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaka, and Didier Drogba are crazy)

- Although I had to staff a child who is a mentally draining (and occasionally physically as well) for the second or third or fourth straight day, it was manageable because his family came and also because he wasn't too disruptive today.

- Staff meeting was actually enjoyable at points

- A new supervisor gave me a very nice compliment in front of some of the boys.

- I am done with work for the week

- I am done with work for the week

- Yeah I am done with work for the week

- I am fine as hell

- I have tentative plans to do social experiments on unexpecting car salesmen

- Mocha Latte is always in full effect

- Finally, I opened my thin envelope (read: rejection) from George Washington Law School in DC (my preferred location) but found a card encouraging me to be part of the wait list which is great considering it is a top 25 school.

After the analysis, this must be marked as one of the best Wednesdays ever.

I wish I could celebrate more but I celebrate in honor of Mocha, who as supervisor today was involved in I believe eight (8) holds. His XBox 360 is still out of commission as well and if it had a profile on MySpace it would kick Tom's ass out of the top spot. So I pour some liquor on the concretefor the system. And I also send out all my good vibes to Mocha.

It's a good day. God be praised.

Oh Just Something I Noticed

Just got off the phone with Socrates and something he said struck me kind of deep. As we were getting off the phone he told me to go get a story and holla at him soon cause I had a way of telling stories. Now I don't say that to blow myself up. I say it because it totally caught me off-guard. Here I am thinking that I was taking the most out of the relationship as I sat back and basked as Socrates spit from his soapbox. See he can talk about anything - politics, celebrities, his own family - with total comfort and humor. I end up laughing my head off. So whenever I spoke, I viewed it as just fodder for him to make even more entertainment or insight. i never really viewed myself as much of an active participator. But he said that I had a way with the stories that I guess entertained him.

And it made me think how peculiar human connection is. Somehow we got what we needed from each other without explicitly stating it to each other or possibly even understanding it ourselves. Cool

Would You Look At That

The day was exasperating for a number of reasons. I was running shift. The children were being as subversive and crafty as they could be. And I was following some questionable orders from the higher-ups. I really wasn't doing too well.

And it showed. For while I poured meds, my co-worker Testimony peeked over the window and started to talk about things. And I realized we were on the same page. I remember when she first came to observe. I thought she would last three months tops. We were head resident assistants of our respective dorms at the same time and I knew her personality. Plus she is rail thin. But she stuck it out and does an amazing job.

And it was nice to hear the reassurances, especially since we were connecting by referencing our shared reverence for God, a quality absent in most of our co-workers. So God sends blessings everywhere. I'm glad he gave me a friend from the most unexpected of places.

What's Big And Red & Filled With Treasure

My church silly

Once again it was time to go back to the old stomping grounds because a) I love Jesus and b) it's always a great ego boost to see people who haven't seen you in a while and actually seem interested in your life.

I was treated with the sights of precocious toddlers and extraordinarily tactile babies playing with their respective guardians. I even received a lovely message on stewardship that the guest pastor pulled out of his hat because the audiovisual squad was having difficulties with his original Powerpoint presentation.

But the main point of church is the fellowship with the believers, or at least that's what I think Paul wanted us to do. Theoretically, Jesus should be personal so church just strengthens what you should already have, not exactly give it to you. And so I received it in spades. Definitely from my usual source of the clique of people we hang out with at church, a bunch of married couples and families that I grew up in. But I also got some extra love from the older brethren.

The first, Sister Jones, I saw on accident but it was a blessing nonetheless. As I sat and listened to her, she gave me a story about her son who had left the church for some time, but has since returned. It was more a cautionary tale but I appreciated it nonetheless. It's indicative of what Paul I think envisioned. Ideally, your church folk should help prop you up and encourage you on the straight and narrow and that's exactly what she did.

The next was someone affectionately known through the church as "Amen" Nelson, because for some time, she was the only one with the emphatic "Amen"s. Now older, upon seeing me she didn't even recognize me, but I guess my face has changed some and the facial hair can throw off someone who wasn't exactly looking at me all the time. So when she realized who I was she did nothing but hug me and continuously say "Such a pretty boy." More encouraging words followed and also when a cute young lady introduced herself to me in the midst of our conversation, she turned to me and said "Don't worry about them. The Lord will see you through."

Priceless.

So is church.