Breathe

I lay silent and a word comes


breathe


I comply and more follows


breathe, because when you breathe, you breathe me


(confused)But all I'm doing is breathing. Still the simple reply insists


breathe


(agitated)But there is so much I need to say, so much I need to do to make things right

breathe

(exasperated)But, but...I can't handle it. It isn't enough just to breathe. How can you ask for so little from me? It isn't a choice to breathe or not to, it isn't up to me. What does this prove?


breathe


Though not complete, merely a word in amongst a multitude of pages, the answer comes.


To breathe is to realize that I am in you. But you cannot breathe me out. You can only stop breathing. You choose to breathe me in but now I am with you. Now you never have to fear. But if you do fear, you only have to breathe to feel the comfort I bring.
I am all you will ever need, so all you need to do is breathe.

Ross Peak and Surroundings

Heart-broken All Over Again

One of the most significant events of the summer for me was taking my high school friends to YL camp in Minnesota. It's funny how much I get ahead of myself with expectations. Leading up to camp I was already thinking about my month of summer staff that would follow the week with my own kids. I had no idea what I was in store for.

The assignment team at Castaway very well may have been the best I've ever seen. By best I do not necessarily mean the funniest program, or the most outgoing, magnanimous, people. But I do mean I believe that more time, effort, deep thought and preparation went into the speaker's talks, the cabin time set-up, and Life Signs than any other week I've experienced. I must admit I was not expecting near this much when I met the speaker: a paltry woman with a quiet voice. In my head I thought "how will kids be able to relate to her? Better yet how can she relate to kids?!"
Simply put, she was on top of her game. Every talk had the most concise use of multimedia, illustrating her message so well. It was most impressive when she would use videos and songs present in high school culture that reveal the truth of the fallen world we live in. After showing the music video for "Dead and Gone" with T.I. and Justin Timberlake she led the whole clubroom in singing the chorus from the song a capella. My jaw dropped. I'd heard the song many times and it never occurred to me, I missed it. "Oh, I've been traveling down this road too long//Just trying to find my way back home//The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone" Hearing 400 people singing that refrain is powerful.
More impressive that that was how she let the high schoolers interact in ways I've never seen before. Along with the usual questions following a talk, crayons and paper were provided. This allowed kids not drawn in by discussion to express their thoughts with art, writing significant phrases from the talk or just what they were feeling. It blew my mind to see the artistry, the deep thought that went into these works...from snot-nosed teenagers. I can see why Christ made it clear that the youth of this world are precious in his sight.
But what really hit a nerve, what really broke my heart was when they showed a Post Secret video and following the video provided index cards and pens for anyone who wanted to write an anonymous secret to do so. Somewhere between 150 and 200 kids wrote secrets. The assignment team said they got together after and read all of them and cried for close to an hour over these. At our next leader meeting they had a condensed version to show the leaders and I was just broken down right there and then. I can't speak for other leaders, but when kids don't tell me that they are hurting I often don't think that they are. But my goodness they are hurting. If ever I thought that high schoolers are doing ok, life isn't that bad for them...that illusion is gone. The next day Annie (the speaker) showed that same condensed version for the kids. With tears in her eyes and her voice trembling she said it so tenderly and honest: "I am so sorry. This was never supposed to be this way."
I never want to forget what I saw and felt that week. I need to remember that. But I can't stay in that place feeling helpless for them. I must react and ask God to help use that to spur me on.

Prayer

7-7-09
I've never felt so helpless as when I saw you sitting there crying. It seemed pointless when I asked you if you were ok. But that helplessness gave way to the only thing I could do: pray. I pray that God can heal you, and he will. I may never know what happened but God is faithful. GOD. IS. FAITHFUL.
I know you are here for a reason, do you? I know there is a reason why you are still here. I hope you find the reasons. God will make you whole again. Then you will never be the same

Is Your Mom as BA as My Mom? uh...no

Okay if you don't know my mom and maybe even if you do, she is a daredevil. No joke. It is unlikely that you will meet a tougher, push-the-limit, no-guts-no-glory woman...ever. I cannot tell you how many times I've gotten the call like I did this morning from my dad: "Before you say anything, she's okay...but your mom is in the hospital."

When I was little mom fell off of a ladder and got a compound fracture in her wrist. She had to get external pins that were held together with what looked like a robot arm that was sticking out of her skin. Awesome.

A few years ago she knocked herself out cold snowboarding. On the way down she was complaining that the backboard hurt more than her head.

Today was no different. She changed her tire on her mountain bike at home, but forgot to reattach the back brake. They live on a huge hill in Gig Harbor that leads to a major road. Well by the time she realizes she doesn't have her back brake she knows she has to stop before she gets side swiped by a car. So logically she locks up on her front brake, sending her flying(I'm thinking full flip onto her face, because that is what she landed on.) Helmet on but still knocked unconscious. An innocent passerby stops and calls an ambulance, and by the time my dad gets word back at home she is already loaded up and headed to the ER. In the end: out of the hospital by the end of the day with a broken collarbone, cut open upper lip, and a neck brace for 5 days before her next visit with the doctor. Oh yeah she turns 55 next week. Beat that. I doubt you can. Man I love my mom, no fear. Can't wait to see her for graduation.

Halted Progress

Ok, I'm cheating again. Here is another one of my favorites that I did not publish. I've never been good at stream of consciousness and this really isn't the best example but I just wrote as fast as I could form thoughts and words. I did not edit this at all, I just put it down and was done with it. Obviously it would sound better if I had taken more time on it, but I think that the good parts stand out more among the sloppy and hastily jumbled words. That's my take anyway. Next post will be fresh, promise.

the days are hard
the nights are long
sometimes it hurts to know you are strong
stronger than me
stronger than i
please tell me why
through this i'm worse the wear
sometimes i wish i could tear
my ties from you
i despise my failure
but this is different
nothing to measure against
writing is my defense
somehow you still overpower me
with no shouts of glee
just quiet nullification
what's my motivation?
to work towards what i can't get
to achieve goals that can't be met
I've exhausted myself and my options
i do not wish to continue, lest i become nauseous
i wish i could cross this
gap that we've formed
i don't even want a reward
only to get over the bridge when we get there
even if it means stripping bare
my soul, my heart
i don't know where to start
i thought i was over this
but i keep painting on this canvas
i can't even recognize the painting
too long i've been idle waiting
i know they say i'm supposed to be strong
but i've never liked walking
inside the lines they draw
everything in me points to you
my clothes are stained with your influence
my skin is scarred and marked by your touch
my mind is filled with your words
and i can't clean my clothes
the scars won't heal
nor can i forget what you said
that's it. i'd better go to bed
i know i'm scaring you with this talk
can we just go for a walk and sort this out
no, and i won't pout
but these thoughts are causing doubt
if you hear them i apologize
will i realize ever this may be over never
at least as long as i am here
as are you, should i leave you and this place
will that get rid, will that erase
what i need to forget: your face

The Wind and the Rain

Another oldie, I really should have posted it years ago. One of my favorite memories. I say this a lot but I really should post what I take the time to write. I have so many drafts it's not even funny. Enjoy.

Sometimes I think back to the time
When we got lost on that old country road
We didn't care where we ended up
We just kept following, never leading
Our destination made me want to stay forever
Watching the rain fall softly on that old windmill
There was something so sweet
When our eyes did meet
As the dying sun finally went away
What we felt I could not say
It was something so strange
But I knew we would never be the same
And what I like the most about that night in Amsterdam
Is the fact that it was just you and I
Whatever happens that night stays the same
No one knows what we experienced that time
No one has seen what we saw
Life may have changed since then but that day will forever remain
That day was you and I
The wind and the rain

Live

I'm not sure what it is about me, but I don't think I've ever been happy living with anyone. Now there is an natural tendency to jump from "me not being happy living with other people" to "me not liking the people I live with." It may sound like the same thing, but I promise it is different. I love the people I live with. Otherwise I would not live with them. But something inside me just goes steadily awry when I live with others.

Maybe I need more space than these living situations allow. I will admit I have been a part of some living arrangements that have been/are...tight. Not a lot of room. Maybe I am a goldfish.(to understand this reference go see Big Fish) But as I say this I am reminded of the house I lived in last year that was huge, more space than I wanted in fact, and I still felt this way. I would get on edge and the slightest thing fires me up. I remember yelling at my best friend because our laundry got mixed up on accident. Why did it matter? Who cares? I really don't like it because it sort of forces me to spend all my time elsewhere, so I don't feed these feelings and don't get riled up. I know that isn't the most forward way of dealing with it at all, but what I am supposed to say to my roommates: listen I like you, I just don't like living with you? I would have no idea what to say if that was told to me. Just writing about this makes my chest tighten a little, it makes me a little on edge.

I was talking to someone a while ago about this subject. I felt that I would really thrive living alone. There is no one to blame, or become resentful of. No one can annoy you or take up your space. But this person whom with I was sharing the conversation, though I can't remember who, thought this a rash decision at least for the time being. I remember them saying that since my time here in Bozeman is coming to a close, that I should make the most with the friends that I have and live with them, not apart. I see their point, but if all living with my friends did was create tension and separation than I am certainly not making the most of anything. But at the same time I will certainly not move out, that wouldn't be taken well by my roommates. Plus I don't want to move out. I like it here. I just have a difficult time doing it.

I really don't understand myself some of the time. Some things that are so fundamental like getting along with the people you live with seem to be completely absent in me. What happens if someday down the road I decide to live with someone for the rest of my life? Will this come back? Actually I'd rather not think about that, let that worry about itself.

-Bitter heart, bitter face
Broken child, broken vase
The room is cold, and growing dark
The sun is fading from the park
Darker still, there is no light
Don't give up, you've got to fight
Bitter heart, you've got to feel
Little child, you must kneel
In your hands, something begins to glow
Hold it to your chest, never let it go
Warm your soul, warm your night
Little child, it will be alright

Surrender

    I have found that sometimes God speaks truth to you in subtle, gentle ways. Other times he kind of bludgeons you over the head with it. The latter has been happening recently. I got home from 3 weeks of travel, and sort of began thinking about all that had happened: Christmas with my family, visiting friends in Colorado; and something began stirring in my head. God was trying to tell me something. I realized that I got EVERYTHING I wanted for Christmas. That has never happened, nor do I think it should. But I got all the presents I wanted, I got to see all the people I wanted to, and at the end I was left asking why? Slowly but surely the answer came saying, "Matt I have given you EVERY earthly possession you could possibly desire. I have surrounded you with people who love and care about you. I want you to focus on ME. You don't need to give any attention to that other stuff. I am right in front of you. And there isn't any excuse you can claim. You cannot claim school overbearing you, you cannot claim exhaustion or busyness or work. It's time you got back to ME." That was enough for me to stop and acknowledge God as being in control, but it did not stop there. Only a couple of days later the sermon at my church was based on 1 John 3:1 "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!" God didn't give us the bare minimum amount of love that we would need, he lavished us with love.

    In the sermon the parable about the prodigal son was also used as an example. This is one of my most fond parables, one I am very familiar with, and yet I had never thought about the story this way: in the story there are two examples of lavish, extravagant living. One is earthly lavishness, and one is Godly lavishness. The younger son receives his inheritance from the father and spares no expense as he squanders that wealth. He is only concerned with the things the world has to offer him. (This is where I start to squirm in my chair.) But he turns back and heads for home, hoping for the minimum amount of forgiveness, of grace. But when he returns his father is waiting for him. Upon his return lavishes him with a robe, the family ring, sandals, and a feast. The father greatly exceeds what the son was expecting. This is God waving his hands in front of my face and saying "Hey! Hello in there! All that crap will get you nowhere, and fast. I'm trying to lavish you with my love, if you will only let me!" I give up, I surrender. I want the love I've been cheating myself of. I want you, Lord.

Vacation? No, this is an adventure. Part 1: Seattle

I love Christmas and I'll tell you why. Though it may be hard for me to remove the selfish, gimme-gimme part of Christmas from this explanation, I'll do my best. I love Christmas because it is about sacrifice. My family is dispersed across the country, and has even been spread across the world in years past. But there is an understanding that we will do whatever it takes to make it home for each other. I remember my sister coming home from France and having her bag taken by mistake by an Italian man who didn't speak any English. Or in the same year when my dad and other sister had to drive from Seattle to Colorado Springs fighting blizzard conditions the whole way. It is about sacrifice. My dad pulled me aside when everyone was home this past Christmas and said "as far as I am concerned this is Christmas, having everyone home." I think he hit that one right on the head.

It was both incredible to see Seattle under a foot of snow, and terrible when you realize that a large city full of people who don't know how to drive in snow still need to do their Christmas shopping. I was so glad to have two 4-wheel drive vehicles at my disposal. I learned that in my parents new neighborhood maybe a quarter of the residents had 4-wheel drive cars and maybe a tenth had snow shovels. I was glad to do it, but I have never shoveled or dug out cars more than over the 11 day span of being home. What really made things tricky was that our street was in a private neighborhood (don't ask me what that means) on top of a huge hill. The hill was probably 200 feet long and super steep. Anyone without 4-wheel drive was doomed going up or coming down the hill. As a result, most of the neighbors were snowed in. One night I went out and shoveled almost half of the hill, though I didn't feel obliged to do it as much as a spirit of wanting to give my time and energy. Thankfully some neighbors saw that and finished shoveling the next day.

I also love MSU's travel board. I used it my freshman year, and for some reason forgot about it after that. It is such a useful tool. For Thanksgiving I brought 2 guys out to Seattle and between splitting gas and declining gas prices it cost me 10 bucks round trip. 10 dollars! For Christmas break I took Kristy (another complete stranger) after she called me about 4 weeks in advance. I picked her up from the dorms, as it is not unusual for freshman to be without cars. So we start driving. For most of the ride she was texting a girl who lived next door to her. Apparently this other girl was not too thrilled about Kristy traveling with a stranger. Anyway we get to talking and Kristy asks me what I do besides school. That is a fairly simple question for me to answer since I pretty much only do Young Life when I'm not studying. She hadn't heard of Young Life but quickly equated it to Campus Crusade for Christ, and she began spouting off names of people I might know through Cru. Wouldn't you know that she was living across from a good friend of mine, and next to a girl I met through Cru. It turned out that it was one of these girls was the one texting Kristy the whole time. She was very relieved to hear that I wasn't a stranger after all. I hope those girls keep hard after Kristy. She is cool and easygoing; she just needs a little direction. Don't we all.

There is nothing like driving by yourself. After a while you do go a little batty, but it really is a unique outlet. You can sing at the top of your lungs, be messy with snacks, and you never have to worry about compromising in what you are listening to. But as much as I like driving alone, driving with someone is sooo much better. I found out that I am a much safer drive when there is someone else on board. Not that I am a reckless driver, but when the roads were bad on my trip, I was perfectly content to go slow and not push my luck. Maybe I should have company with me more often with I drive in the winter. I've also decided that girls are much more fun to drive with long distances. There is never much of an awkward silence, and even though you may not really be a part of the conversation, you always feel involved. The two guys who rode with me over Thanksgiving said a total of 10 words combined during the trip. It isn't their fault necessarily, it just would have been nice to have had some conversation. I digress, it was wonderful to spend a week and a half at home, but at the end I was ready to hit the road for Colorado. More to follow on that trip.