I'm stepping away from this for a while. I started a blog to get my feelings out, and share stories about God, and other things that I think are beautiful. Somehow, it became about something else, and whatever I was doing different hurt me a little. I love to write, and I love to tell stories, but this doesn't really fit me right now. I need to figure out how it works. Until then, I bid you, my loyal reader(s?) farewell. Thanks for listening.
Stephen
3.6.08
San Fransico Day 3: Downhill
Today is my last day in San Fransisco. I can't decide if I'm sad ('cause tomorrow I'll have to remember that I need to be responsible and find a job), or happy (because HyounJun keeps calling Alcatraz Azkaban [seriously, he's done it like three times]). I can't figure myself out. I might as well just enjoy this. 
Chelsea is with us. It's nice to have her here. I feel like we're going to be best friends forever, no matter what. I think my life won't be so bad, knowing that.
Chelsea is with us. It's nice to have her here. I feel like we're going to be best friends forever, no matter what. I think my life won't be so bad, knowing that. We spent all day looking for this Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. I wanted to go because I remember going there with my Mom when I was little. Whenever I think of San Fransisco, I think of traveling there with Mom and Jon, and Sarah, and Deborah, Hannah, and little Timmy (Before Rachel was born), waiting to pick up Dad from his business trip to London. I remember laying down on my stomach on the walkway to look at the fish in the pond. I asked mom if all Japanese fish had mustaches. She said no, and to get up before I get my nice clothes (third generation handmedown) dirty. I knew I could stay like this until she could fish Timmy out of the pond. He wanted to take the fish home. I bet Mom got tired of being glared at by complete strangers everywhere she went. She loved us though. She told us all the time. She told us Dad loved us too (though he couldn't say it himself until just recently). It was a spiritual experience (though I was too young to know it). Surrounded by green in this alien atmosphere, covered with jackets that had been in the family for years, wind whipping about my body, waiting for father to come home after being away for so long. I wanted to return to that place.
We found it. They charge admission now. HyounJun says that this place is like Korea, and that it was a lot of stuff he'd seen before. I asked him if he meant by that that Korea was just like Japan. I don't know why I say stuff like that. It just makes him mad (like when I say that Kimpop (can't spell) is just like sushi). But for me, it was just like I remembered. I am six, waiting for my father in an alien place, surrounded by mustached Japanese fish. I don't want to live in the past, but it's nice to visit from time to time.We decide to go home. HyounJun says he misses my parent's refrigerator. I miss the people that eat out of it. For some reason, his tiredness from last night seems irrelevant now, because HyounJun says we should have asked Chelsea where we could find a club to go to. I told him 
Chelsea had probably never been to a club. He said that was impossible. Chelsea said it was true. HyounJun said that she probably knows someone who knows where to find one. Chelsea said that her sister did. I told HyounJun he should have mentioned that yesterday. HyounJun swore to God that he did. I told HyounJun that when he swears to God, it doesn't mean anything. He laughed. I'm not sure if I was making a joke or not. I'm going to miss him when he's gone. I'm going to miss everyone.
Chelsea had probably never been to a club. He said that was impossible. Chelsea said it was true. HyounJun said that she probably knows someone who knows where to find one. Chelsea said that her sister did. I told HyounJun he should have mentioned that yesterday. HyounJun swore to God that he did. I told HyounJun that when he swears to God, it doesn't mean anything. He laughed. I'm not sure if I was making a joke or not. I'm going to miss him when he's gone. I'm going to miss everyone.
We're careening down hills on our way out of this place, straight back to where we came from. I don't know when I'll be back, if I'll be back. Did I miss something? Will the future hold as much promise as the things I'm leaving behind?San Fransisco Day 2: A View From the Top
Today was busy. A rush to the head. A thousand images per second as HyounJun and I tried to see everything we could see in a day. I only had a few moments to take in what others were spending the entire day on. Sausalito is nice. The Golden Gate bridge is actually orange ( and smaller than the Bay Bridge). The Palace of Fine Arts is beautiful. Chinatown is busy and frenzied. Japantown is...small. Haight - Ashberry is pretentious and overrated. Pier 39 is overpriced food and too many people. A gallery on Saulsalito was showing the lost art of Dr Seuss. I didn't know this (and apparently a lot of people don't) but he was actually a studio artist in addition to writing children's books. HyounJun
had never heard of him. I was explaining the stories to him. Dr Seuss was a surrealist, a social critic, and a poet. The world only knew him as the best writer in the world, for that brief time that we were all growing up. I think Dr Seuss might be my hero. After the natural light had left, and the artificial ones were out, HyounJun and I headed up to Twin Peaks, where we could get a good view of the city lights. This is the part of the story where everyone says that the city lights made them feel like they were looking down at the stars from up in heaven. I don't like being cliche, I'm actually very self conscious about it. I sometimes won't say what I'm thinking/feeling if I think that someone already said it. I think that's probably unhealthy, so I'll be honest, and I'll be damned if it didn't feel like looking down at the 
stars from up in heaven. Our entire day was spread out in front of me. From the bridges, to the piers, to the streets, each of them buzzing with activity, as tiny people in tiny cars carried about their daily business, oblivious to the fact that we were watching them. People say this is how God must see the world, and that this view from the top is how He is able to love it. Like the scene in Star wars where R2D2 and C3po are escaping from Princess Leia's flagship. As they are flying away from the badly damaged vessel, 3po remarks "Funny, the damage doesn't look as bad from out here." I don't think God sees us this way. Not that He can't look down on what he has made and be proud. There's a lot of cool things out there. But he's in the streets and piers and bridges with us, too. He looks down from the top so he can guide us when we get lost, or distracted by something on the roadside. He sees the larger picture, the box of our puzzle, but he cares for the pieces individually.
My camera battery died at the top of the hill, but I didn't care. Showing people pictures of this was useless. I didn't want anyone to think that because they had seen some collection of 1's and 0's on a computer screen that they had seen what I saw that night. HyounJun wanted to go clubbing earlier that night. I have remarked several times how I feel about clubbing, but I would still go with him. He's my Friend. Fortunately he was too tired, and I was glad to make this our last stop. We were spending the night with Chelsea at her home in Marin. The city can be exhausting, but seeing an old friend never disappoints. I a going to sleep tonight, and dream about Heaven, knowing that I have been met while just a tiny person in a tiny car, oblivious to the fact that someone has been watching me. Life will never be perfect, but the damage doesn't look so bad from out here.
had never heard of him. I was explaining the stories to him. Dr Seuss was a surrealist, a social critic, and a poet. The world only knew him as the best writer in the world, for that brief time that we were all growing up. I think Dr Seuss might be my hero. After the natural light had left, and the artificial ones were out, HyounJun and I headed up to Twin Peaks, where we could get a good view of the city lights. This is the part of the story where everyone says that the city lights made them feel like they were looking down at the stars from up in heaven. I don't like being cliche, I'm actually very self conscious about it. I sometimes won't say what I'm thinking/feeling if I think that someone already said it. I think that's probably unhealthy, so I'll be honest, and I'll be damned if it didn't feel like looking down at the 
stars from up in heaven. Our entire day was spread out in front of me. From the bridges, to the piers, to the streets, each of them buzzing with activity, as tiny people in tiny cars carried about their daily business, oblivious to the fact that we were watching them. People say this is how God must see the world, and that this view from the top is how He is able to love it. Like the scene in Star wars where R2D2 and C3po are escaping from Princess Leia's flagship. As they are flying away from the badly damaged vessel, 3po remarks "Funny, the damage doesn't look as bad from out here." I don't think God sees us this way. Not that He can't look down on what he has made and be proud. There's a lot of cool things out there. But he's in the streets and piers and bridges with us, too. He looks down from the top so he can guide us when we get lost, or distracted by something on the roadside. He sees the larger picture, the box of our puzzle, but he cares for the pieces individually.
My camera battery died at the top of the hill, but I didn't care. Showing people pictures of this was useless. I didn't want anyone to think that because they had seen some collection of 1's and 0's on a computer screen that they had seen what I saw that night. HyounJun wanted to go clubbing earlier that night. I have remarked several times how I feel about clubbing, but I would still go with him. He's my Friend. Fortunately he was too tired, and I was glad to make this our last stop. We were spending the night with Chelsea at her home in Marin. The city can be exhausting, but seeing an old friend never disappoints. I a going to sleep tonight, and dream about Heaven, knowing that I have been met while just a tiny person in a tiny car, oblivious to the fact that someone has been watching me. Life will never be perfect, but the damage doesn't look so bad from out here.
San Fransisco Day One: Shorelines/Transitions
I'm going to San Fransisco today. HyounJun and I packed our bags this morning and are currently driving up the coast on highway 1. It's beautiful. Every corner we turn, there's a new picture, a shoreline I have never seen before. The Bible says that God's mercies are new every morning. I swear, one of these days I'm going to remember that for longer than thirty seconds. I keep taking pictures over and over again. They disappoint me. I don't think a picture could capture what I'm looking at. That's the frustrating thing about art, or trying to be an artist. No matter how good you are, nothing compares to the original. So I'll just watch for a while. Pictures are a waste of time here. I'll just save them for when HyounJun and I are posing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. That's a man made structure. Those are less intimidating to photograph. We are almost out of gas. It's been about 20 miles since we've seen a gas station, and according to the street signs, it will be another 10 miles until we reach any sign of civilization. The warning light is on. HyounJun is worried. I am praying. I don't worry in the same way he does. I have been well provided for. We found a gas station (of course we did), fueled up, and continued. The scenery is beautiful. Beautiful and familiar. The city lights of LA have nothing on the ocean's blue, the green of the trees, and the occasional flashes of yellows, purples, and reds from the flowers on the hills. I was raised here. Why don't I come back more often? Why didn't I notice the beautiful things around me when they were around me? Why do I want to stay on southern California the rest of my life?
There's so much still to see. You can hear it, smell it, almost taste the growth, the energy in the air. Just writing about it is the equivalent of taking a deep breath. I don't want to let it out. Do I belong up here? 
HyounJun has to pee. I saw a little beach town off to the side of the road. Parking was readily available, and there was a bathroom right at the entrance to the beach. I waited while HyounJun used the bathroom. I walked along the shoreline, taking pictures (silly little boy, trying to copy Daddy's paintings) of this random beach. I had never been there before. I didn't even know where I was. Somewhere between Santa Barbara and Santa Cruz. That's a wide margin. This was something new.
HyounJun has to pee. I saw a little beach town off to the side of the road. Parking was readily available, and there was a bathroom right at the entrance to the beach. I waited while HyounJun used the bathroom. I walked along the shoreline, taking pictures (silly little boy, trying to copy Daddy's paintings) of this random beach. I had never been there before. I didn't even know where I was. Somewhere between Santa Barbara and Santa Cruz. That's a wide margin. This was something new."I want to show you something new."
A voice that came to me, as calm and reassuring as that fermented salt breeze that filled my lungs. It doesn't scare me anymore to hear voices. Not that voice, anyway. It's new and old at the same time. It belongs to me more than my own voice.
"I am still here."
I worry about my life more than I should. I worry about finding community after Intervarsity. I worry about all my friendships dying slowly and painfully. I also worry about being attacked by sharks at the pool. Pool sharks. Haha. That's a different story, though. I never really thought that I'd been worrying about that voice not following me into the next phase of my life. But I did, and when I heard it again, I knew I shouldn't have. It was the one constant in my life, that thing that never left my side, and now it was closer than it had ever been before, like a hand on my shoulder. No, like a hand inside my own.
Northern California is beautiful, and I'm glad I got to see so much of it, but it's not the place where I fell in love with Jesus. It's not the place where he continues to use me. This shoreline is like a love letter. A beautiful reminder that I'll always keep, but I would trade in a thousand like it for one glimpse of His face. My home is the space between his hand and mine, growing smaller every day. Someday close enough to touch. The earth is yours, and everything in it. It is all that I can do to wait along your shorelines to walk with you, and feel your wind at my ear, your hand inside my hand. Where you will have me wait for you. That will be my home.
24.5.08
Ducks and Humans
I kicked a duck today. I was in the park. I kicked a duck in the park today. I was sitting on the edge of the lake, trying to figure out what had happened to me over the past 23 years, when a large pile of ducks plopped up on the shore. It looked like they were in a huddle of some sort, like pictures I've seen of rugby players. It made me smile at first. Ducks are kind of cute, you know. They kept pecking at something in the middle of their little circle. I was curious, so I went over to see what it was. It was a female duck. It must be mating season. When ducks have sex, it isn't cute. It's probably the least cute thing they do. They have to grab the female by the back of the neck, and stand up on top of her. It looks like it hurts. I think I was right, because this female was trying as hard as she could to get away. She couldn't, though, because she had to fight off so many. There were about 10 male ducks on top of her. She broke loose and made it to the water but they caught up with her again, They were holding her under water. I don't think she could breathe, and it seemed like the other ducks didn't care. They dragged her up on the shore again, and I could see that most of the fight was out of her, but she was still struggling. They kept pecking at her, and I could see that the feathers were gone from the back of her neck, and her head was bleeding. My God, they are going to kill her.
People have always said of me that I am more emotionally involved with most things than I should be. That's probably true, and I think I proved it today. I couldn't just sit there and watch these ducks kill another duck just because they were horny, so I got up, and tried to scare them off her. They all scattered instantly, except for one guy. He was probably captain of the duck football team or something. Douche bag. Duck bag? I don't know. I kicked him. I kicked him square in the stomach, and he went flying. She got away, and got a serious head start. He and his crew caught up with her on the other side of the lake, where I assume he got what he wanted, since the struggling stopped.
I'm an idiot, really. Appointing myself chancellor of duck rape prevention. And failing. I guess I really don't know what else to do. Ducks aren't really that cute after all. They remind me of humans in far too many ways. I wish...
I don't know what I wish. I guess I just wish I didn't feel so close to all this mess. Human beings aren't really that much better at relationships than ducks. I can see some of them across the shore, flapping their wings in the air with their chests puffed out. I used to think that was cute. Arrogant bastards.
People have always said of me that I am more emotionally involved with most things than I should be. That's probably true, and I think I proved it today. I couldn't just sit there and watch these ducks kill another duck just because they were horny, so I got up, and tried to scare them off her. They all scattered instantly, except for one guy. He was probably captain of the duck football team or something. Douche bag. Duck bag? I don't know. I kicked him. I kicked him square in the stomach, and he went flying. She got away, and got a serious head start. He and his crew caught up with her on the other side of the lake, where I assume he got what he wanted, since the struggling stopped.
I'm an idiot, really. Appointing myself chancellor of duck rape prevention. And failing. I guess I really don't know what else to do. Ducks aren't really that cute after all. They remind me of humans in far too many ways. I wish...
I don't know what I wish. I guess I just wish I didn't feel so close to all this mess. Human beings aren't really that much better at relationships than ducks. I can see some of them across the shore, flapping their wings in the air with their chests puffed out. I used to think that was cute. Arrogant bastards.
20.5.08
Old vs. Home (the difference between giving up and letting go)
I made a playlist of depressing songs today. Just a list of every song I've ever heard that has made me feel like crying. 76 songs. Over 3.5 hours later, and all I can think is that I cry too much. Or no one else cries enough. One way or the other, I'm just a person with a lot of feelings, and they don't always fit inside me, so they have to come out. This is one of those feelings. It's been inside me for a long time, so...be warned.
When I was little, I cried a lot. Not, I don't cry so much. It's not because life got easier, but more because I got tired of crying about everything. So, I stopped. One day, I just said to myself enough, boys don't cry, and I stopped. There was this Element 101 song called "The Fragile" that I lived in high school, because it was just so true to how I felt about life.Thee were these lyrics that kept repeating on my head over and over again. "When you shut the door/ And lay yourself on the floor/ That's how you know/ That's when you know that you're old./" Don't slow down. Don't give up. Don't close the door. Don't lay on the floor. That will be the end of you. I carried that philosophy most of my life. Never show any weakness and never admit that you're tired. I put up a good fight for a long time. I didn't lay down on the floor, but I was tired. I started crying again this last year. I just couldn't hold up that front any longer. It's amazing how different it is when you don't have to fight alone. When your friends can wipe your tars, and hug you and pray for you. Putting up a brave front never seemed so stupid to me in my life. Maybe Element 101 was wrong. Maybe it's better to be old.
I was at the beach this last Friday with my friends. I was going to graduate from college the next day. My family was going to visit me at the beach. The two worlds that rarely come together. As I sat on the beach, worshiping God with my friends, and anticipating the long overdue arrival of my family, I laid myself on the floor of the beach, and stared up at the sky. The stars stood out like pins holding this giant quilt of space up like a canopy of protection over me. The ocean breeze, mixed with the laughter of familiar friends was the closest to the voice of God that I have ever heard.
"This is how I know.../"
My family came up and surprised me from behind, and I hugged each of them as family deserves to be hugged. I needed a moment to soak all this in. This was not giving up. This is what I had been waiting for, and missing all along.
I just listened to that Element 101 song again, and it's really funny how your attitude can really color your perspective. That lyric, the one that had been playing in my head forever was wrong. Those weren't the words at all.
"When you shut the door/ And lay yourself on the floor/ That's how you know/ That's when you know that you're home./"
The door is closed, and I am laying on the ground. I am home.
When I was little, I cried a lot. Not, I don't cry so much. It's not because life got easier, but more because I got tired of crying about everything. So, I stopped. One day, I just said to myself enough, boys don't cry, and I stopped. There was this Element 101 song called "The Fragile" that I lived in high school, because it was just so true to how I felt about life.Thee were these lyrics that kept repeating on my head over and over again. "When you shut the door/ And lay yourself on the floor/ That's how you know/ That's when you know that you're old./" Don't slow down. Don't give up. Don't close the door. Don't lay on the floor. That will be the end of you. I carried that philosophy most of my life. Never show any weakness and never admit that you're tired. I put up a good fight for a long time. I didn't lay down on the floor, but I was tired. I started crying again this last year. I just couldn't hold up that front any longer. It's amazing how different it is when you don't have to fight alone. When your friends can wipe your tars, and hug you and pray for you. Putting up a brave front never seemed so stupid to me in my life. Maybe Element 101 was wrong. Maybe it's better to be old.
I was at the beach this last Friday with my friends. I was going to graduate from college the next day. My family was going to visit me at the beach. The two worlds that rarely come together. As I sat on the beach, worshiping God with my friends, and anticipating the long overdue arrival of my family, I laid myself on the floor of the beach, and stared up at the sky. The stars stood out like pins holding this giant quilt of space up like a canopy of protection over me. The ocean breeze, mixed with the laughter of familiar friends was the closest to the voice of God that I have ever heard.
"This is how I know.../"
My family came up and surprised me from behind, and I hugged each of them as family deserves to be hugged. I needed a moment to soak all this in. This was not giving up. This is what I had been waiting for, and missing all along.
I just listened to that Element 101 song again, and it's really funny how your attitude can really color your perspective. That lyric, the one that had been playing in my head forever was wrong. Those weren't the words at all.
"When you shut the door/ And lay yourself on the floor/ That's how you know/ That's when you know that you're home./"
The door is closed, and I am laying on the ground. I am home.
Steve the Tomato
I have an uncle named Steve, and he looks like a tomato. He's a big round guy. He's not just fat, his belly pokes out of his body like he's pregnant with triplets. And he's not the jiggly, jolly type of fat, he's just round. Big and round. Even his gums are big and round. They overlap the edge of his teeth like silly putty. His skin is bright red. Red like a...yeah, like a tomato. Honestly, it's like he got really sunburned one day, and then decided he liked that color, and kept his skin in a constant state of burn. I can't really take him seriously, because every time I see him, the theme from VeggieTales plays in my head.
I don't really get along with my uncle, and it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he looks like a human vegetable (I mean fruit). He's kind of in a cult. If any of my CSUF peeps have had any run ins with the campus group "Christian Students", you'll know what I mean. He's with them. Some of the things that he believes are just so strange to me, and I find myself embarrassed by him sometimes, especially because he claims that his beliefs are not cultish but a truer interpretation of Christianity. Beyond that, he is sooooo stubborn. I once had a conversation with him for over a half hour about a stupid game of poker. He was so obviously wrong, and everyone in the room knew it, but I guess he thought that if he didn't admit defeat he would still be right somehow. This mentality carries over into every aspect of his life. My mom won't even talk to him anymore. My mother is the sweetest, most forgiving and patient person in the world (She's married to my Dad, enough said) and SHE gave up on him. Often enough, I wonder why my aunt Claudia even married him. I guess maybe he was attractive at one point. That, however, is now gone, and he is just this big, stubborn...tomato of a man.
I guess the point of all this really made sense to me this last weekend. My cousin Becky got married last weekend (the day of my graduation), so the whole family packed into three cars and headed out to the sweltering heat of San Bernadino, to go to a crazy cult wedding. Actually, the service wasn't that bad, and the man who is marrying my cousin seems like a nice, mentally stable man. I really didn't expect that. I saw my uncle across the room at the reception, and as he crossed over to say his hellos, I prepared myself to make small talk that didn't involve theology, poker, or fruits that everyone thinks are vegetables. Fortunately, I had a lot of material to talk about, with recent family developments and all. Steve came up, shook my hand, and told me how excited he was to see two more weddings in the family (My sister and my brother) coming up this summer. "All my children are finally married," he said. "So, I guess you're next." I had to laugh (It's better than the other option). I am incurably single, you see. Beyond that, I had just received a bachelor's degree that morning. Marriage at this point would simply be false advertising. I tried to explain this to my uncle, but I mentioned before how stubborn he is. He stopped me in the middle. "Listen," he said. "All you need to do is find a woman that loves the Lord." "Oh crap," I thought. "He wants to talk about God." I further explained that while, yes, that is the top priority, there are other factors to consider, such as compatibility, and common interests. The whole time, he was shaking his head at me. "The only reason anyone can ever get along is the resurrection," he replied, in his all-too-sure-of-himself preacher voice. He put his hand on my shoulder. For a man who walks around with such a glazed over look on his face, Steve has a pretty strong grip. I'll never forget what he said to me. "Take the advice of a loser who somehow made it thirty seven years. I slipped on a banana peel in the first round, and somehow made it up again. and now, look at all of this." He spread his arms out and pointed to the corners of the room, where his wife, his children, and grandchildren were sitting, laughing and playing around. "If I can make it," he said, "You can make it."
I'm not really the type of person who gets super depressed about being single. Not anymore, at least. I figure I'll probably someday meet someone really cool, who has poor taste in men, and we'll go from there. And if not, oh well. Life's too short to waste it complaining and feeling sorry for yourself. And I've been given so much, what right do I have to complain anyway? Even still, I can't deny I was a little jealous of uncle Steve, and what God had given him that night. I wonder what it would feel like to be a husband, then father, then grandfather. He's been those things for longer than I've been alive. I don't think my uncle has the scriptures completely correct. Not by a long shot. Even still, if you look at all that God has given him, and his attitude about receiving it, you cant help but wonder. Maybe God loves my uncle as much as he loves me.
Oh, and I can be pretty stubborn too.
I don't really get along with my uncle, and it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he looks like a human vegetable (I mean fruit). He's kind of in a cult. If any of my CSUF peeps have had any run ins with the campus group "Christian Students", you'll know what I mean. He's with them. Some of the things that he believes are just so strange to me, and I find myself embarrassed by him sometimes, especially because he claims that his beliefs are not cultish but a truer interpretation of Christianity. Beyond that, he is sooooo stubborn. I once had a conversation with him for over a half hour about a stupid game of poker. He was so obviously wrong, and everyone in the room knew it, but I guess he thought that if he didn't admit defeat he would still be right somehow. This mentality carries over into every aspect of his life. My mom won't even talk to him anymore. My mother is the sweetest, most forgiving and patient person in the world (She's married to my Dad, enough said) and SHE gave up on him. Often enough, I wonder why my aunt Claudia even married him. I guess maybe he was attractive at one point. That, however, is now gone, and he is just this big, stubborn...tomato of a man.
I guess the point of all this really made sense to me this last weekend. My cousin Becky got married last weekend (the day of my graduation), so the whole family packed into three cars and headed out to the sweltering heat of San Bernadino, to go to a crazy cult wedding. Actually, the service wasn't that bad, and the man who is marrying my cousin seems like a nice, mentally stable man. I really didn't expect that. I saw my uncle across the room at the reception, and as he crossed over to say his hellos, I prepared myself to make small talk that didn't involve theology, poker, or fruits that everyone thinks are vegetables. Fortunately, I had a lot of material to talk about, with recent family developments and all. Steve came up, shook my hand, and told me how excited he was to see two more weddings in the family (My sister and my brother) coming up this summer. "All my children are finally married," he said. "So, I guess you're next." I had to laugh (It's better than the other option). I am incurably single, you see. Beyond that, I had just received a bachelor's degree that morning. Marriage at this point would simply be false advertising. I tried to explain this to my uncle, but I mentioned before how stubborn he is. He stopped me in the middle. "Listen," he said. "All you need to do is find a woman that loves the Lord." "Oh crap," I thought. "He wants to talk about God." I further explained that while, yes, that is the top priority, there are other factors to consider, such as compatibility, and common interests. The whole time, he was shaking his head at me. "The only reason anyone can ever get along is the resurrection," he replied, in his all-too-sure-of-himself preacher voice. He put his hand on my shoulder. For a man who walks around with such a glazed over look on his face, Steve has a pretty strong grip. I'll never forget what he said to me. "Take the advice of a loser who somehow made it thirty seven years. I slipped on a banana peel in the first round, and somehow made it up again. and now, look at all of this." He spread his arms out and pointed to the corners of the room, where his wife, his children, and grandchildren were sitting, laughing and playing around. "If I can make it," he said, "You can make it."
I'm not really the type of person who gets super depressed about being single. Not anymore, at least. I figure I'll probably someday meet someone really cool, who has poor taste in men, and we'll go from there. And if not, oh well. Life's too short to waste it complaining and feeling sorry for yourself. And I've been given so much, what right do I have to complain anyway? Even still, I can't deny I was a little jealous of uncle Steve, and what God had given him that night. I wonder what it would feel like to be a husband, then father, then grandfather. He's been those things for longer than I've been alive. I don't think my uncle has the scriptures completely correct. Not by a long shot. Even still, if you look at all that God has given him, and his attitude about receiving it, you cant help but wonder. Maybe God loves my uncle as much as he loves me.
Oh, and I can be pretty stubborn too.
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