Buried Beneath a Thousand Pictures

I dug myself a big hole in 2009 with my new camera. I took an outrageous amount of pictures but seem to have been left with a dismal amount of pictures I like, or that are worth showing. But here are some from Christmas break. All shamelessly edited but I like the results. Also I've resolved never to shoot in RAW again. For all the effort, I didn't gain a noticeable advantage.

I must have taken 400 pictures of Rainier over the 7 days I was home. But since that view is from my parents house, it wasn't that hard to do. I was and still am enamored with that mountain.



Love this one. Dirty but I really like the dark frame the clouds above and the trees below give the mountain.



HDR shot, I tried to keep this one as modest as possible.



Another HDR pic, this one just got worse and worse as I tried to get it back to normal but when I gave up on it I realized I liked it. A lot.



Night shot of Butte, MT with the old mine scaffolding lit up in red. I didn't even plan on cars and semi trucks passing put it made for some cool shots.



Finally Butte gave me a reason to stop, even for 10 minutes instead of just driving through

So This is the New Year

Ok. I'm working on 3 things this year:
reading one book every week
posting every week
using as few words as possible on my posts

For now, here are two thoughts.

"Family Time" - This is the small group my brother attends at Pepperdine. Incredible group. A model for wrestling in prayer and petitioning for each other. An infamous group, frequented by complete strangers but treated as brothers. In an hour's time I felt like I really had missed out on something going to a public(secular school,) yet was encouraged knowing my brother was a part of this group.

I just read Love Beyond Reason by John Ortberg to begin my goal of 52 books in 52 weeks.

I cried at every turn of the page.

I had to put it down several times and collect myself.

I'm quite sure that when I re-read it in the future I won't have the same response. But somehow it was precisely what I needed to hear at this moment. It broke me. Its words compel me. I do wish to pass it on to others, but I can't guarantee it will have the same effect. In any case, I've missed reading and cannot wait to devour much more this year.

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