Tangerine

A man stood throwing presumably stale bread to the seagulls. I called out, “would you like some oranges?”

“Sure would!” He responded.

As my hands passed the small orange parcels out the window he commented,

“These are Tangerines Darling… Thank you!”  (he was right! Geesh, I should learn my fruit!)

He put down his sign which read “I need everything.” And peeled his “tangerines.” I drove away. Happy that both the birds and Man had an afternoon snack.

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Oh Varmonious Day!

I was scapoomping down the charsay on a varmonious neon day.
I thunkered upon a scarshwog and punkered up what to say...

"Farvo! Mr. Scarshwog, nis you see the varmonious day?"
"Rey!Rey!" The wog replied, and boped barring away.

Sumbered by his exut, I winued farther on,
with the neon slobbering my face and Mr. Scarshwog newly gone.

A plink fell from above and dashed my dainty crown.
"Gerrar! Gerrar!" And I slushed quickly around ...

A moger in a snee harled with glee and raised another plink towards me.

"Nay! Mr. Moger, tis my charsay
you can not spake my varmonious day!"

Con the neon slobbering on my face and the charsay beneath my digits,
I raised my crown towards the neon and set off towards the limering higits...

Presence of the Lord

Sharell and I were driving home from a late night beach trip discussing the wonders and grace of God. How is it that we are where we are? That we grew up following and loving Jesus and still do. So many people are not following what they once were. Why us? It is by the grace of God. By praying parents. By a church that laid hands. By youth pastors wives and teachers who looked us in the eyes and told us we were going to make it.

Sharell said she never gave up because she knows there is just something more, something better. In every instance she has been so close to just throwing in the towel, she has been too curious as to what the Lord has in store for her.

I’ve never given up because I’ve never been outside of the presence of the Lord. I don’t know anything other than him. At times the world has looked appealing and depression has called my name … but I was too fearful to step outside the bounds of his presence. “Where can I go to flee from your presence?… even in the depths of the sea you are there …”

Gone are my fears of sharing my testimony. My testimony is my story, and my story is that of the presence of the Lord. I want to share it and continue in it and revel in it.

I am 20 and I don’t have very many answers. Many factors show that I should not be where I am. But I am here. And in the presence of the Lord I will stay.

Persecution

I use to wonder upon Persecution. Of limb-stretching's, tongue slashings, and mind warping’s. Of the hero’s who stood strong like Daniel and Stephen and Paul. We pray for the persecuted church. We pray for those persecuted. Oh to be persecuted! Of course I would stand strong to the face of my killer! I would not degrade the name of my Lord! … Or Would I? Peter did. Am I any different?

I’ve heard that the Chinese leaders don’t want the American Church to pray against persecution, but for the Christians to withstand the persecution. They believe that the persecution strengthens the faith of the believers and helps sift the true believers from those putting on a face. Without persecution, the American church is full of fakers.

So, what is this persecution? I once had a goal to be persecuted … I don’t know if this is something to be achieved, its not really a goal of mine anymore. John writes the words of Jesus telling us that when we are hated, it is not us that the world hates, but Him. I am beginning to wonder if hate is persecution.

There are people who don’t like me very much. Perhaps they hate me. I suppose they are convicted by me, or my lifestyle … and it hurts. But I am coming to realize it is not me they hate, it is Christ in me. I cant take offense to the immaturity. I would rather have Christ and life, then not have Christ and be made right with every person.

Perhaps this hating is persecution. I know it doesn’t compare to the stories we read about of Christians in Communist countries, but perhaps it is all linked. We are all hated for Christ.

The Best Present Ever Received.

I've collected thimble for the past 12 years. I started collecting when I was in the 3rd Grade. My teacher Mrs. Owens collected spoons, and as I began looking for spoons to fulfill her collection, I happened upon thimbles. Around the time of discovering them, I met someone else who collected them ... I just don't remember who that was. Well, after some sort of deliberation, I announced to my parents that I was going to begin collecting. I am sure they had a most positive response while thinking to themselves "OK, but this wont last." Oh but you were wrong!

Although I don't remember my first thimble I remember one of the first. My brothers friend Ryan Welty purchased me one on his high school band trip to Germany. It had a picture of a castle on it and instead of the boring white porcelain that normally encumbrances the fingertips sized cup, it was metal and covered with vines - and gorgeous! I knew then that I had to keep up my collection.

Well, I accumulated a lot of these. More friends would gather them during trips, I eventually filled up a thimble case, then another. It was at this point that I received the best gift I think I have ever received. Over a year ago I was antique shopping with Heather as we love to do and I found this old letter type drawer, I told Heather it would make the coolest thimble case!
Well, as best friends do, she remembered the really important random comment I threw out. This Christmas, Heather, her dad (and well, her whole family) worked on converting an antique type letter drawer into a full pledged thimble case for me! It looks exactly like this, except plexi-glass and hooks were added...

Tonight Heather was wonderful and patient and loving as I sat and updated the little slips of paper inside each thimble of the time and place where each was bought. She acted as if she really cared when I told her stories and prices and useless information. She even allowed me to dump all the thimbles out of the case after I was nearing the end (also note that it was her idea in the first place that I rejected) and let me re-organize them according to location.

Well, I have the most awesome thimble case in the entire world and it looks amazing in my non-bedroom. If I ever need another case... I know where to look. Oh, and did I tell you I counted them? 201 thimbles. That's a lot... how many will I have when I die... what does one do with a random collection of such monstrous size upon someones death? I think I need to stop this blog.

"Pink Mist" - An anthropological Report of Multnomah University

The following was co-written by Sarah Jones and Myself during a Video day of our Cultural Anthropology Class. The red was written by myself and the green was written by Sarah.

Once their was a Multnomah Student named Heather Sarah. Or Sarah Heather. Because the two names are equivalent and half of the girls at Multnomah are either named Sarah or Heather. With such superior names, this girl felt that she had a pretty good understanding on Multnomah Culture. First of all, she decided it was most necessary for a book to be written so that teh outside world might better understand the sub-culture living off Glisan Street. A publisher caught wind of the case study book while the girl was at lunch.

Since the JCA is the hub of much of Multnomah culture, the publisher decided to join the girl for a meal so that he could witness some of the anthropological phenomenons the girl had spoken of. They were not disappointed. First, they observed the pressure that students unconsciously felt to groan and complain when seeing the menu on the cafeteria door, whether they were truly disappointed by the food selection or not. it is simply not socially acceptable to be optimistic about Aarmark food. Second was the color of the air ... if looked at close enough, it appeared to be a tinge of pink! This so called "mist" had settled firmly among many a couple, and a little more gently upon others. Just as it was socially unacceptable fore one to be optimistic about Aarmark food, it was also socially unacceptable to be uncomfortable with the settling thick mist.

After an overwhelming amount of culture shock, the publisher turned anthropologist rushed out for a much needed break and debriefing But on their way they were stooped dead in their tracks by the most obvious and awkward result of the pink mist - the infamous DTR benches. Conveniently located within viewing range of either the dorms or JCA, these benches were occupied by couples ( and in some cases, room for Jesus) who were all in obviously serious conversation. Some talked quickly with serious and passionate expressions. Others simply murmured and giggled. Common between all occupied benches, however, were two things: the frequent passerby pretending not to be desperately eavesdropping and the dozen pairs of eyes shamelessly watching each couple from the cover of their rooms.

Overwhelmed by such relational intensity, the anthropologist decided to sit in on a Multnomah Class. The class he happened in upon was non other than Cultural Anthropology by Dr. Martin Alphonse. It was here that the case study was formally presented and was warmly accepted. Full of optimism, the young anthropologist publisher walked to his car parked in the Promised Land. A coat of light petals dropped onto the windshield just as the car rolled over the first speed bump. Happy about the breakthrough in the case study and thinking about the upcoming book, only Sarah Heather noticed the linking of eyes between Mr. Anthropology and the mysterious young converse wearing Multnomah Woman who walked by... Pink Mist Indeed!