I find writing hard, in a way, because there are some topics that it really takes research to write well, like say on religion and politics. I actually enjoy both topics, but not when it’s divisive, partisan, and polarized. It often is, especially politics. I have a really high bar for research. I’ve grown to like reading source materials and the related context. The problem is, there’s a lot of reading to be done to be informed on any subject, and that doesn’t even consider retention. I can get timid at times in what I write, as I don’t particularly like people irrationally attacking me. I posted a comment on one blog a few days ago and expected to get flamed. I didn’t, and that was encouraging to me.

This space is one where I’ll steer clear of hot topics, because I don’t want that kind of search traffic. This is my safe place, at least, as safe as one can expect on a blog published worldwide. I’m going to share more ‘scenes’ from my life in the coming months, and hope to get in a better discipline of writing. I’ll also be blogging at my Christian imagination blog, though not as often. I’ve gotten a few books about imagination, which is giving me some good kindling for my mind. Also, I am reconnecting my RSS reader to a select number of blogs. It’s been awhile. I had over 300 feeds at one point. Now, I just have the positive and intellectually stimulating ones.

I grew up on Bateman Avenue in the very small town of Cranesville, Pennsylvania. My brothers had moved several times before my parents landed there in 1971, but I, I was there my entire youth. We had a nice little park a half block away. That had swings, a slide, a merry-go-round, and an unsurfaced basketball half court.

There was a creek that ran next to our house, across the street, along the park, and beyond. I followed it a number of times, making up names for places and things on the river. I had a goal to not avoid stepping in the water, though I slipped and fell more than once. The creek next to our house we called a crick, as some people call creeks. I didn’t call any other stream a crick. As far as I’m concerned, there is only one, and it flows next to our house.

The crick is relatively tame. Erosion has taken some soil away, but it’s still much as it has always been. Well, that’s not true. It once was rather polluted, but it’s been cleaner for a long time. Once time we had a lot of rain. That’s also not true. We had a lot of rain all the time. Between rain and snow, half the year we were covered in drops of water, be they frozen or liquid. One year though, we had some much rain for so long, there was a lot of flooding. We looked into our neighbors year and it was a lake at least 4 feet deep. I remember the photos, though I don’t remember where the photos are. We were on higher ground, because that’s where our house is.

Our building has been called the Ark, as in Noah. At least, that’s what I think it’s been called by some. Being that there was a flood, we probably were like Noah’s Ark. My dad hosted many a meeting in our back room. I don’t know if “back room” is a term that actually exists or not. I just know that the room was always called that, and therefore, it’s the back room. Our house was bought cheap and then fixed up. That was the plan, though my dad’s skills in this area weren’t very good. My dad was a preacher, you see, and that is what he did well. That, and cooking, and arguably, scrapbooking. Taking care of a house was a means to an end, that end, being hosting people. My parents were spectacular at that. We always had people in and out. It was one of my favorite parts of childhood and youth.

People came from far and wide to taste my dad’s spaghetti and meatballs. He wasn’t Italian, but he was taught to cook by Italians, and his old sister’s husband was Italian, so therefore, he was really good at it. Plus, he liked to eat. This is important. And it was central to his ministry. Sure, we had meetings in our backroom with 50+ people and in our living room with a few less, but we all knew that the central place of ministry was in the kitchen at the dinner table. There was often food, but it was also the place were the few gathered for real conversation and training.

We had ministers stop in from all over the country, and sometimes the world. They were of all sorts. Thus, I’ve seen all sorts. And we weren’t so much elders to me, but peers. I’m thankful to have known many of them. I forgot how wonderful so much of that was.

It wasn’t always wonderful though. We let all sorts of people stay. Some were honorable and really wanted to grow. Some were fake, lying, conniving people. We had some people that stole from us while we gave them free hospitality. There are some that would later turn on us and reject us after we helped them. Still, my dad had a saying, “I don’t write people off.” For the most part, he didn’t.

My dad was really insightful and knew how to push people’s buttons. He wasn’t afraid to challenge people and tell them what they might not want to hear. He was able to give of himself to a lot of people because of this. Sometimes though, my dad didn’t know when to shut up and and when to hold back. He could be unwise that way. He also was terrible at accepting criticism. I learned how not to accept criticism from him, and had to learn how years later.

Despite my dad’s faults, and they were many, he did things in ministry that he just shouldn’t have been able to do. He’d certainly give God the glory, but still, it amazes me. He could organize a meeting, literally, in a day. He’d find a church venue (sometimes our house), call a bunch of people, and when the speaker came in, people were there. In reading his autobiography, I sometimes shake my head with a smile on my face. He just did things. He was a bit of a rebel. He was always outside organized church but had contacts in all sorts of churches, well, I should say, groups of Christian people. He said he wasn’t a company man. Once when he was the interim pastor of an Assemblies of God church, they sent him ordination credentials. He sent them back.

He preferred to work outside the system. This included setting up his own church organization, New Covenant Christian Church, under the Word Emphasis Crusade. Then, much to the chagrin of people, he started ordaining people so they could freely ministry to others. Sometimes he was really unwise. Other times though, he ordained someone who then proceeded to do things they shouldn’t be able to do, simply because they now had permission. It got really interesting when he decided to send an ordination certificate to a famous ministry who had had his credentials revoked. Well that, that is another story.

This does mean that I finally get to see Europe. More details will follow once I have more details to confirm. Despite the movie references, I’m not looking for romance there, but I am looking to be a tourist. It should be a blast.

I’ve written a lot in my time on earth, but a lot less the last several years. I’m not always sure why to write. I seem to write best when I don’t know why I’m writing and am just discovering. That includes now. Perhaps you won’t think this is good writing. It’s true that the first draft usually isn’t the best, but it is the most satisfying for me. When my writing is unconstrained, it is enjoyable to type words. I think not having expectations is a huge part of it.

Expectations trip me up. They often have. My own. Other peoples’ are really my own. They suck the life out of me. That perhaps is an oxymoron. I’ve thought a lot about tomorrow. Researched tomorrow. Analyzed yesterday, and that in view of tomorrow, what might be, what might not be. I think that today is good. Today, I’m doing better at not doing things. I can’t enjoy everything. Actually, maybe it’s possible to choose to enjoy most things, but it’s not about all things being easy and relaxing and fun. I have a self-centered nature that doesn’t always want to do what’s hard. Some things I won’t do unless structure applies some pressure. The challenge, for me, is not committing to some things I can do but am better off not doing. Not everything will be energizing, but it’s not wise to add too many tasks that are draining, if I have a choice.

I can say that today I’m rather content. And that’s good. I sense a sense of God’s presence and a peace. I have plans for tomorrow. Some are exciting. I’m optimistic. But I’ve decided I’m okay with a lack of certainty about the destination. I’m less certain about specifics because I’ve seen how big the world is and how small I can be. More than one time I’ve had very specific plans that I failed to accomplish. There are times I knew, but knowing didn’t get me there. Faith isn’t necessarily about knowing what’s on the other side. It’s trusting that I will trust as I walk in that direction, and that God is God wherever I may step. It’s looking around and actually seeing what I might not see if I wasn’t looking. It’s listening. It’s not going too fast. It’s being ready to make hard choices and face awkward situations. God, not surprisingly, is more concerned about the manner of man that I am than He is about vocation A or vocation B. And when I say manner, I’m not talking merely virtue or character. We don’t need God to have those things. But do I have faith that there is a God who is the God of tomorrow and today, that He is faithful, that I am righteous through his death and life? Not always. Through some periods of my life, much less. I only have today, and it’s there that I live.

I finally watched the new V series. I liked it more than the original. Having actors who had starred in Battlestar Galactica, Firefly, and Stargate was certainly a highlight, but it also was more plausible with a great political slant to it.

For those of you who never saw the original mini-series in the 80s, the thing to understand, is that it wasn’t a mini-series. It was an event. Imagine a time when cable TV was in it’s early days and network TV still dominated. Imagine a time in America before Nintendo when computers were still in their early days. Imagine a time when the Internet didn’t exist for public use. It was this time in America, in 1983, when V was released.

The marketing campaign, as I recall, was not too revealing. It generated interest without telling. When we watched the Visitors arrive in 1983, Americans who huddled around their television sets (me included) didn’t know what was going to happen. When the Visitors said they come in peace, I didn’t have any reason to doubt them (but I was rather young and naive at the time). When Donovan first saw what a Visitor really looks like, he was terrified…and so were we. Americans, collectively, felt the same emotion at the same time. If they didn’t see it, they might not see it at all. Not everyone had a VCR in those days.

The following year, The Final Battle continues to the franchise. I still remember, vividly, being at someone else’s house and watching the birth of the hybrid children. When the reptilian baby poked his head out, it was a shocking moment, one which required us to wait till the next day to see what’s next.

I’m rather glad the American media landscape is more diverse now. I’m glad there are more viewing options and that we do more than just view. In trying to evaluate movies though, one has to understand the cultural context of the time. Though I like the new V more, it can’t compare to the emotional impact of the original when it was released. I may forget the new V after a time. I’ll never forget the original 2 mini-series and the series that followed it.

I like to have multiple avenues to explore. Thus I’m volunteering at EYC, developing an OLCP educational program, taking a feature article writing class online, taking an online microeconomics class, talking about assisting World Hope with their trafficking database, talking with a few people are freelance work, doing some work for CPS (my company of 10 years), partaking in some local events, contemplating grad school possibilities, winning at fantasy football, and talking to friends & family over the net when I can. It’s not all that. It’s the expectations I put on myself along the way, coupled with what I still have to learn about resting from all my stresses. Coupled with whatever additional thought I need to give to eating right and exercise (thought about, but perhaps need to think more). What’s that all mean? It means I was stressed out this past week and needed to mostly relax for most of the week. Feeling a bit better now, more, relaxed.

I realize some things. Some things I needed to realize once I slowed down a bit. I could easily spend the next several years of my life seeing the world. I could work part-time in web design or teach English is many lands or do things like WWOOF. For a period of time, this year, that is nice. But over time, I’m a creature of community. I need to be rooted. Yet, in New Zealand, I didn’t really feel homesick. I felt it was time to leave Fort Collins, but, but, I find myself missing people there, missing the quintessential essence that I can’t identify. I’m not sure whether I’ll ever live in Colorado again, but if I return to the states this summer, I’ll likely fly to Denver first, then train or bus back East. And then, THEN? That’s been the question. And I’ve had a hard time settling it.

I like strategizing. I’ve been pondering paths into development and international affairs, thinking how I could strategically place myself into interesting corridors. I could. And who knows, I may. But not of my own planning. Trying to live up to my own ideals, my own plans, my own idea of what I could possibly do with my life, it’s just too much, and crushes my heart into the ground. Not only is the preparation too far away from where I am, but more importantly, I just wouldn’t enjoy it, and if I don’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t get too far. That’s the upper echelon, and it’s just not a place I’d enjoy being. I wouldn’t fit.

So, I’ve been thinking, and am still thinking, about the bottom, doing community development, working with people directly. But you know, working with people who speak a different language takes a lot of effort. I love culture, but it takes time to build bridges, and sometimes that bridges are best crossed by those already in the community. To do community development is really investing in another world for a significant period of time. And maybe I just miss my support network, who are too far away. It’s not that I don’t know some wonderful people here. It’s just that it’s not the same. It takes time. And I like it here. But there’s a difference in mindset between expecting to leave and expecting to stay.

And I realize, more importantly, that I desire two things: a fulfilling vocation and a wife. It’s not that I don’t want anything else, but those are the ones that I feel longing for. Traveling the world is not required. Though I could, but traveling gets old without a context and relationships.

I am changing my direction again, but only slightly. I’m going to apply to SIT still, but I’m now going to pursue International Education. I’ll learn some of the same things about community development and experiential learning, but I’ll also have a more distinct career path into programs for study abroad, international programs, cultural exchange, and cross-cultural workshops. I’ll be able to be a trainer and facilitator. I’ll be able to work at colleges with college students, who I’ve been around for years on end. Education is a thread that been there in jobs like NTU, Rocky Mountain High School, and with a few of my clients. I’m now doing an eductional project with an NGO that is primarily doing education. Perhaps most importantly, I’ll enjoy this path, and that I think is what I’ve given too little credence in this journey.

Miss you all. See you in 6 months, maybe.