An Accidental Kiss (Part 5 of 5) + All

An Accidental Kiss: Full (Part 5 Bolded)

“Come on, Kim, help me with the dishes.” Mrs. Fogaard said this through clenched teeth. She carried a boatload of dishes with the breadbasket in her mouth. I must admit it was pretty amusing. Kim stopped playing with her dog, Brandy, a Newfoundland and a Siberian husky cross. Brandy complimented the Fogaard’s personality: Gentle but strong.

I stood up from the table and shook Brandy’s head. I grabbed what was left and headed into the kitchen. Not a scrap of food was left. As an athletic family the Fogaards had a healthy appetite. They finished what they had and what was left over. The kitchen counters were full of dishes, so I leaned against the wall for a few seconds and waited for space to open up. No sooner did I placed the dishes down, did I get a face full of bubbles. I gasped, wiped the essence of soap from my eyes and counter attacked with what I had been given. The bubbles flew across the kitchen onto Kim’s head. She turned around just in time to get a second attack to the face, fully into her mouth. Kim spit out the bitter bubbles and came after me. I turned to run. Socks don’t work too well on hard wood floors, I slipped, landed on my stomach and felt Kim jump on my back wanting revenge for my well executed throw.

“If you guys break anything, I’m gonna beat you both,” Mrs. Fogaard said. As much as she was kidding she probably would whack up on top the head if we broke a dish, or worse, a bone.
Kim tickled my sides and feet as I laid helplessly face first on the floor. My arms were tucked under her knees and I had no chance of escape. As I wiggled, I must have looked like a caterpillar in distress. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t breathe. Tickling to me was the worst form of pain.

“Ok, OK, You win!” I yelled laughing and gasping for air between words. I always thought if they used tickling as a form of torture, it could be a very effective technique in the military.
Kim got up and scuttled into the living room. Her show was on: Smallville, Friday July 13th, 2007 : Channel 62, 6:00 PM. She sat down on the curve of the couch. The Fogaard’s couch was about 12 feet long that bent in its middle, encasing the living room into a square. Andy, Kim’s older brother sat on the far side, his head submerged into “The age of Great Dreams: America in the 1960’s” by David Farber. Kim flipped to Channel 62 and was met with a L’Oreal shampoo commercial. I walked toward the TV but made a left detour into the hallway bathroom.
After Kim attacked me, my bladder became angry and needed a quick release. I washed my hands and found Kim, not watching her show but in the back foyer on the phone. Kim was sitting on the corner of the couch huddled beneath a blanket. She had tears swelling, while some rolled down the tips of her eyelashes. “That was Aaron. Tell me the truth. You? Nicolette?” Kim’s face became flushed with blood. I could see the pressures building. She didn’t want to believe it. Neither did I. I couldn’t explain why I cheated on Kim. Was it because I was weak against the temptations? Or not want to disappoint her best friend’s lust? I felt an unfamiliar pressure that pulled my arms from their sides and made my vision cloudy. I couldn’t look Kim in the eyes. Things escalated too quickly and I wanted everything to stop, to give me a timeout. “You just destroyed something that could have really lasted… Just get out. Please Leave.”
“Kim, really, I want to talk to you about it.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Kim, I Love You.”
“Leave, Please, Just Leave me alone!”

“Kim…”

“GO AWAY!”

I walked out into the Kitchen where Mrs. Fogaard was cleaning the rest of the dishes. “David told us what happened between you and Nicolette. Mr. Fogaard and I just wanted to tell you how disappointed we are.”

I heard a clunk. My heart dropped. I’d rather she yell at me for being a sneaky two-timing whore. Her words hit me with a freight train packed with Guilt and Shame. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fogaard. I don’t know what to say.” Time mixed with water and oil and seemed to swirl around me.

“You don’t need to tell me that you’re sorry. Tell Kim. We’re just disappointed.”

* * *

On September 10th, 2010 I was driving to my high school’s home cross-country meet. Maybe I didn’t have to talk to her. There are usually a few hundred people at a cross-country meet; no one had to know why I was there. In fall of 2006 I was captain of the MHS X-C and Track teams and the OCIAA’s scholar and sportsman of the year. Why wouldn’t someone like me return to support the team? In fact, it was even the truth.

It was as if I was here only yesterday. The park’s grass was overgrown except for the race path mowed down by the maintenance crew. Near the front side of the lake, the tunnel of grass transformed into a dirt path. Sometimes while you are running, you’ll step on a rock sticking out of the dirt as if the ground was six months pregnant. The race wasn’t all on grass, dirt, and cinder. The race starts on a road that runs around the outside edge of the park. It follows the road until a narrow trail appears to the right. You want to be leading by this point or you’ll find yourself fighting flailing elbows, tripping feet, and jagged tree branches. The trail can squeeze a pack of runners like a toothpaste tube. That outlet of the trail comes out to the grassy field, which follows back to the lake. Spectators line the race path, creating an effect that you are running faster than you really are. It’s a feeling of serene adrenaline that runs through your veins as you fight head to head with the runner at your right shoulder.

From the parking lot I saw a group of girls on the far side of the lake wearing Middie Blue colors. Kim must be in that wave somewhere. I looked towards the field of blue expecting to see her long silky burnt red hair leading her team. All I could see was blue, and flashes of bright orange, green, and hot pink reflecting off shoes left and right. Near the finish line I saw Coach Beam situated in the middle of the guys team giving a pep talk. Aaron was stretching near the edge of the circle. He had incredible natural running talent. At first glance his physique gave an aura of strength, and efficiency: An American Kenyan runner. Mixed emotions fluttered through me like butterflies. He’s the one who exposed me. Though he was a runner of mine and I had watched him grow into a fine young man.

The girls had finally returned and began stripping their warm-ups. Guys joked about if you couldn’t afford playboy, the start of a girl cross-country race was the next best thing. Then there was a migration of spectators from the parking lots to the fields and starting line.

BANG! The gunshot shouted, sending an eerie chill to my feet. I wanted to “go.” I longed to start with them regardless of the fact they were girls; the aspect of racing with my high school team excited me. I watched a rainbow pass by me: Purple and Gold, Green and White, Middie Blue, Red, Black, Orange and Yellow. The colors mixed together slowly. The pace stretched out the individual teams and they all blended together into a tie-dye state. You could close your eyes and imagine the pounding of their shoes as large raindrops pelting the road. To me, it was such a welcoming sound. My eyes were fixed on the lead runners. As the mob stretched further openings appeared between the once shoulder-to-shoulder group. Kim squeezed out from being boxed and escaped to the edge of the pack. She had been trapped, but now she surged toward the front. Kim reached the lead pack and settled in around 5th or 6th place. Her gait was wide and fluent. Her calf exploded from the ground, propelling her forward, not up. Her knee bent and her heel met her butt before she swung her leg in front of her. Her knee came up, foot perpendicular with the hard ground; ready to hit the ground again.

* * *

Through the trees I saw more moving colors. The girls were finishing their first mile. I heard shouts and cheers, the sounds were moving toward me like a crash of a wave on the shore.
“Come on, Kim!” No matter where you were in a race you could always hear Mrs. Fogaard cheering her daughter on. Kim was in 4th. The pack came around the corner out of the woods to encircle the lake again. You could hear the slapping of their gaits change as they ran from the grass onto the dirt. It’s a more definite sound that rings in your ears. “6:18, 6:19, 6:20, 6:21…” Kim was on pace for a 19:42. She could break her PR. The lead pack circled the lake. The color of the trees mixed with their uniforms until they disappeared.

I walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Fogaard who were managing the bake sale for the meet. It was amazing how much food you could sell at a cross-country meet. Runners tend to crave sugars after a run; especially Rice Krispy treats, and home baked caramel granola bars. After a race all respect for healthy foods disappear. Hey, why not? Exploit runners at their most vulnerable.
“Well, look who it is! How have you been?” Mrs. Fogaard gave me a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

“I’ve been pretty good. Studying a lot.” I shook Mr. Fogaard’s hand. I always enjoyed talking to them. Over the years we have had conversations about cycling and triathlons, business techniques, problems with the education system and school board; you name it. They still accepted me as a good person. I had made a mistake that involved their daughter but they had forgiven me.

“Kim actually, applied to Binghamton,” he said. “But she really wants to go to Ithaca. I think it rang a bell with her. She really connected to the campus there.”

“Well if she decides on Binghamton I could set her up with the cross country coach.” Kim wasn’t the best runner, but she was good. She could run D1 X-C and Track at Bing. “What does she want to go into?”

“Physical Therapy” Mrs. Fogaard replied. She was a PT herself so I wasn’t shocked. “I told her she needs to focus on sports medicine.” I agreed with Mrs. Fogaard. Kim needed to focus there. That field fits her personality perfectly.

We could hear shouts form the opposite side of the field. The race had come back to the spectator area. Kim was now in 4th. It was easy to spot her. I have never forgotten the efficient glide in her stride, or the way her elbows stuck out from her sides as her arms pumped back and forth. A runner’s form was like a person’s smell. Each had their own.

The lead pack passed the 2nd mile with less runners but the intensity had grown. The pain of cramps, burning sensation of the muscles, and pressure in the lungs had set in. One wrong move could break a runner’s spirits and cost them the race. Kim looked focused and calm. You were trained not to give away how you felt through facial expressions; it breaks the concentration, creates tension, and wastes energy.

“Come on, Kim!” Mrs. Fogaard’s voice never ceased to amaze me. Its vibrations could cut through a deaf man’s head. “Come on, Kim!” The last of the lead pack disappeared once more into the woods for their last mile. A mile that takes more guts than talent.

* * *

Three years before, I watched as Kim’s thigh thundered into the sand. The girl behind her planted her foot on an unlevel hole and tumbled face first. With 400 meters to go Kim picked it up. She was so close, yet so far. The leader had gained substantial distance in the beginning of the freshman race, but Kim had caught up with her. Thirty meters behind, now twenty. She’s going to catch her, just a little further. Ten meters. “Come on Kim!” Both girls crossed the line, Kim only inches back. They stumbled side to side, bumping into each other as they were momentarily disoriented.

“That was an incredible race! Really exciting! That girl led with such force for so long. It looked as if she was going to take it with ease but you really picked it up in that last mile.”
“I guess…I just…felt…good.” As Kim said this to me, she stole tiny sips of breath between her words. “I think, I’ll go for a long walk and cooldown. My legs are shaking.” Kim chuckled at herself, still feeling tired, but more composed and obviously pleased with herself. She gave me a kiss, pressing the sweat that lined her upper lip onto mine.

Kim and I took a barefooted walk on the beach. It was quiet. We knew what the other was thinking; feeling. Hand in hand we walked as our feet felt the soothing coolness of the sand beneath our toes. The sun was still high in the sky and glimmered out over the calm water. For a moment, I caught a reflection of the sun that highlighted Kim’s red hair. Her hair flowed down the middle of her back, quietly rubbing her exposed skin around her sports bra.

Kim’s face flourished an expression of fulfillment. She looked relaxed, and so content. She had done so well today and I knew she was pleased with herself. I looked into her eyes, feeling warmth, and solitude. I wrapped my arms around her waist and hers around my neck. I could feel the sense of the Cross Country season. It was the smell of autumn; a sweet, crisp smell that could wrap its arms around you and pull you in close.

On the way back to the parking lot we passed the maintenance crew dissembling tents and water stations. Parents talked to each other in little clumps scattered between their cars. Kim’s best friend, Nicolette, skipped over to us. She looked as though she was soaring through her mind. “Congratulations on your great finish Kim! That was awesome! God knows I can’t run for shit.”

My mind wandered as Kim and Nicolette spoke in female tongues. I had the State Championship next week and thought how great it would be to win; Running at full speed through the grass, heart pumping harder than ever before, pushing my body to its limit. I saw Nicolette standing there and thought how cute her hips followed her outfit. Her eyes were bright and energetic, so inviting.

“…can bring Nicolette home?”

I snapped back to reality. “Um, oh, yeah. Sorry tuned out for a second.” The girls hugged and Kim turned to me and gave me a long kiss and a smile. She sped off to her parent’s car. Nicolette and I walked toward the edge of the parking lot where my Corolla sat.
Nicolette broke the relaxing silence, which I was enjoying. “That was a great performance Kim had today.”

“True. She’s doing well. In a couple of years she’ll kick ass at states.” I wandered back to winning states. Nicolette and I talked about all our school stuff on the way home. We sang in chorus, played clarinet in band, and worked together in the performance of Beauty and the Beast. I parked in her driveway and we kept talking. After a half an hour we realized the sun was setting.

“Thank you for the ride. It was much better off than walking two miles home.” Nicolette leaned in and gave me a hug. We separated but stopped when we could see each other’s eyes. I felt the most inviting tension to kiss her. A forbidden lust. She felt it also and moved closer, our lips separated by mere slits of air. They swayed up and down, controlling the urge to press forward. The tension snapped. Our lips connected in inflamed judgment as my conscious became impaired with a cloud of lust. I felt her hands move toward the back of my head. Mine caressed her back with the night sky blanketing the outside air.

* * *

It wasn’t until years later I discovered the smell I associated with cross-country was actually the smell of decaying leaves. The colors of the trees in New York during the fall were so different than any other place in America; they were forgiving and understanding.

The pack came out of the woods for the last time. Their race had picked up, its runners were using sheer mental power. Kim was in 3rd with 4th close behind. The first and second girls were having a race of their own and had broken away. Kim turned the last corner, her arms pumping harder to keep up the pace. I could feel every last pain she was experiencing, the deteriorated muscle power, the out of body experience, the feeling of genuine mind over matter. The 4th place runner from Newburgh challenged Kim on the stretch. Kim fought back, increasing her turnover and lifting her knees. Her form had become inefficient from the lack of muscular power, the power that was used to sustain the fierce pace during the race. Kim drove toward the finish, recruiting every muscle fiber her body had to offer. The Newburgh girl surged past Kim and took the finish first. 19:41.7
Though she lost her 3rd place finish, she destroyed her own personal record by 12 seconds. She walked around the finishing area to catch her breath and restore the natural balance of her body. Coach Beam ran over with an ear-to-ear grin to show Kim her time. I watched as a wide smile crossed her face. Her body was trying to right itself after working to failure. Kim shook her arms out, then her legs, and stood straight up.

Our eyes met for the first time. I felt the meet around us had stopped, disappeared into the non-existent. We were alone, together. I wanted to hold Kim as I had done so many years before. I wanted to ask forgiveness for my actions. I wanted to exile my regrets from this world. My stomach knotted with unease as my mind stretched towards her. The only comfort I received was a gentle half smile given from Kim’s pursed lips. I smiled back as if to give an understanding of the times that had passed and the feelings we shared; a resolute gesture to what we had become. Three years before, on Friday July 13th, 2007 I had learned everything in life happens for a reason, though you only exist to find its purpose.

Source: http://matthewfrancisgawors.blogspot.com/2010/08/accidental-kiss-part-5-of-5-all.html

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Losing Myself....

The title of this blog pretty much says it all. I feel as though my life has left me, I miss what used to be my life. I felt like it had some meaning. Now I'm just going through the motions, trying to fight the good fight and losing terribly. I feel alone and abandoned by the world, disconnected from even the most basic of feelings other than sorrow, despair, hurt, and pain. I am thankful for the couple of friends I have or else I don't know what I would do. It is that little thread that is keeping me tied to this world. As you can tell by this post my depression is winning the war. At some point I am going to lose my ability to do the most basic things because right now I am fighting just to get up out of bed. Of course I'm not sleeping much at all which I'm sure isn't helping right now. 

  Dr. H has talked to me about my guilt, he said the guilt is masking things and I know what it is masking. Hurt, pain, and anger...rage even. This sucks more than anything, I hate these feelings. Before I got better for awhile (a few years ago) I was feeling a lot of anger. I mean every single day I was angry and/or depressed. Then by some miracle I snapped out of it and became a different person for a few years...not enough years because now I am back to that hopeless person again. I hate it so much. I don't want to feel this way but I know I have to stop masking it and deal with it. But it is so very hard. All I want to do is die right now. I am tired both physically and emotionally. I've lost the connection with pretty much everyone I know. Both physically and emotionally. No one knows me anymore. I feel as though I would not be missed by more than a handful of the people I know. Four of those are my kids. I feel useless and I feel like no matter what I say or do it isn't right. 

  Of course it doesn't help that every time I read posts on the internet regarding news stories or even some Facebook postings it makes me feel like the world is made up of hate more than love. Why in the hell would I want to stick around for this? I can't bear this. I know I am not the only person who feels this way, don't get me wrong. It appears to be a pity party and sometimes I want to slap my own face....sometimes I do. This doesn't negate what I am feeling. I am depressed, I am tired, and I feel like I'm already dead inside. It sucks to feel this way. I feel as though I am getting worse instead of better so I have to remind myself that my doctor told me that this would happen. But ya know what, even though I know that it doesn't stop me from feeling totally and utterly alone. Where the hell are the voices in my head??? It's all quiet in there and that may be good...maybe it's the eye of the storm which would mean this is half over, right? Get through the other half and then I'm home free? I sure hope so because if I fall much further I don't know if I will be able to get out.

Here is some song lyrics with the song posted right after that REALLY embody so much of how I'm feeling. Sorry the video isn't really a video but an album cover but the song is good. I like it, even if it is depressing. For anyone who may actually read this, writing helps me even if it is negative like this. I'm sorry for being such a downer but it is part of the journey that I promised you with this blog. You are going to get the bad with the good.

Losing time
counting hours
I'll never see myself again
And even though I'm alone
I can't remember what I'm missing
So I leave it be

Closing down
I expect the hopelessness
And even though I'm alone
I can't remember what I'm missing
and that's all I need

I am lost
I feel I am sinking now
like I was made of rain

Like a wave I roll into the endless night

I am not afraid
as the darkness starts
to make its way
I breathe as hard as you
as I end my day
I sigh and shelter
as I try to sink that deep
as deepas you and make sure
that I won't fall asleep

Losing days
I need no hours
I'll never be myself again
And even though it's killing me
I can't remember what I'm missing
So I leave it be

Source: http://myptsdlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/losing-myself.html

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Litany - as Recited by a 3 Year Old

Happy Friday

Or ...

Litany

BY BILLY COLLINS

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine . . .
Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.

Source: http://rwrld.blogspot.com/2010/08/litany-as-recited-by-3-year-old.html

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Going The Rounds

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Although I do not post comments on the blog I always read them. So many thanks to all of you who commented on my comments and poem yesterday’s. I got the impression that some of you thought I was sitting on a fence or sorts. However, I think I made my feelings clear and it is not for a poet to dictate how his or her reader should react to a poem, only open avenues of thought.

Meanwhile…

It is true what they say. What goes around comes around. The fashion scene, for one, can testify to that.

Hopefully, the same will not apply to attitudes towards gay relationships…but I have my doubts. If certain individuals and groups within the world’s major religions - predominantly Christianity and Islam (they that like to present themselves as models of peace and love!) - have their way the clock is already turning backwards for us. Even laws meant to give gay people equal rights and protection can only go so far.

At the end of the day, you cannot legislate for bad attitude. If emails I receive and discussions I’ve had with both gay and straight readers are anything to go by, there is still plenty of that around among the world’s predominantly heterosexual communities, even in the so-called liberal-minded West.

This poem is, yes, another villanelle.

GOING THE ROUNDS

What goes around, comes around,
no matter gay or straight
on history’s merry-go-round

Let time, our mistakes, compound
(love will always see us right?);
what goes around, comes around

As dogs of war run peace to ground,
see humanity put to rout
on history’s merry-go-round

Let martyrs quit this mortal round
where light and dark mate,
what goes around, comes around

In all nature, no finer, sweeter sound
than love songs killing hate
on history’s merry-go-round

Where sexuality dares speak its mind
or society constructs a closet…
what goes around, comes around
on history’s merry-go-round

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Source: http://rogertab.blogspot.com/2010/08/going-rounds.html

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Pilgrim

This is a pilgrimage. (A journey to a place associated with someone or something well respected, viewed as life's journey.) I started with Vancouver, which is just about as perfect a place as any to begin a quest or odyssey or journey. Its big, welcoming, beautiful, dense, lush, brooding, overcast and foggy. You can go from downtown San Francisco-esque city, to the mountainous bear infested forest, in however long traffic permits you to cross one of its bridges (if you're lucky...10 minutes, if you're not uhh.... you’re stuck for an hour or so.) I was very fortunate to have some pretty amazing tour guides that gave me a crash course in all the important Vancouver sites. Everything Olympic, the massive Stanley park (2nd biggest city park next to central park in Manhattan), the turn of the century looking suspension bridge, apparently built by the Guinness family and my favorite part, the giant sulphur mound that almost glows gold, no matter what the conditions. The only night I spent there, I slept on a house boat, which if you haven't ever, find a way to do it. Having my own float-home is rapidly becoming one of my top life goals. I managed to be there the weekend there was a Chinese fireworks festival in the water and it was pride weekend. It felt like everyone was celebrating Meghan's list. I know that's selfish but I'm going to pretend. After the night in the float home and the world's most efficient city tour, I got to the train station about an hour ahead of time. If you buy a sleeping class ticket (bunks included) you get to hang out in the fancy lounge where they have some guy with a keyboard singing weird songs, snacks and drinks and ac. We boarded the train and they announced they were giving away champagne (I think that was mostly due to the fact that the train was two hours late leaving, and there were a lot of old timers on the train.) It worked great! They were all psyched to be on the train and passed out after half a drink. The back of the train is all windows with an observation bubble on the 2nd floor and every single seat was filled with a sleeping octogenarian (the sun hadn't even set yet.)

The sun did set and I couldn't wait to get into my bunk. Could. Not. Wait. They fold the bed down out of the ceiling and turn the bench seats below fold into another bed. So it's like bunk beds with a heavy curtain that do a fantastic job of blocking out light, some sound and in general letting you feel like you're in your own space. I slept so hard. It had to be at least 11 hours. The train literally rocks you to sleep in your tiny little cave. And when you wake up it sort of feels like Christmas, except you don't run downstairs to the tree, you find the nearest window and are completely overwhelmed with nature. Its beautiful, expansive, enveloping, inviting, I could go on forever with adjectives. Its perfect. Although, I'm sad I missed the crazy cliffs and bridges that you apparently pass through overnight. Anyway, the next step is breakfast, and I was skeptical as usual. I’m vegan, so food can be difficult. I tried to call ahead and have them prepare stuff beforehand or at least give them notice but every time they said to just tell the waiter. Who, not surprisingly, had no idea what to do and offered me salad. I can get a salad at Burger King. Way to go, you totally get it! All we eat is lettuce and bark. The chef was indeed better prepared and came out with a pretty decent tofu scramble, definitely a nice recovery in the span of twenty minutes. The coffee is good and never ending. I can’t complain. Its a little awkward, but ultimately good that they make you sit with other people since seating is limited, so I understand why but yeah. No meals alone.

I spent the rest of the trip to jasper glued to the window, either reading or taking pictures. Its unreal. Mountains, lakes, tunnels, the forest, and no bears. No moose. No elk. NO BEARS. Let down. Is it so wrong to just hang some steaks out or something before the train passes through? I mean, come on, they gotta eat too. Right? I was only in Jasper for 45 minutes, I barely got to walk around but it looked nice. I wish I had gotten to spend more time there. Next time. It's funny, how when you lose someone, you end up spending more time making other people feel better about it than, worrying about yourself. In conversation you always finish with something like "but it's ok now because..." Its frustrating you feel guilt for it. Almost like you feel bad for putting that burden on other people? It's stupid and half the time I want to just let it hang there in the air. Mostly because it's not “ok because…” It sucks. It still sucks a lot. I’m trying to do something that I feel is important to Meghan and me, but that doesn’t lessen the blow that she’s gone. You know? I wish I could just say ‘my wife passed away’ and then not say anything and have them not feel like they need to say anything. It's really incredible to be in the same space mentally with the worst of the worst and be cognizant of what you're facing. Its not meditation or even dwelling, its just...yeah...facing it. Sitting down to have a beer with the biggest, scariest, bigfoot-like creature imaginable. You know exactly how terrifying it is because it’s right there in front of you. You know its capacity for destruction and pain. It has the potential to completely rip you to shreds and leave you a sad pile of waste. It is also almost a mirror. Terror has a way of reflecting your worth, your mettle. I have to be completely honest and I think quite apparent what the initial effect on me was.... I was completely scared and broken. I still am. I'm not even sure if I'll come out on top, but I know I'm going to try. Every last fiber is in scramble mode trying to find something solid to steady myself on. I need to catch my breath and find my bearings. I need an anchor for the world, to stop it or slow it just long enough to figure this all out. The train from Jasper to Edmonton was the same as the first leg. It was only 5 hours so I took a nap and read some and again stared out the window.

Edmonton was strange. It’s pretty difficult to get around there and there are only two streets in the city with anything happening. These two streets are separated by a river…its not convenient. I didn’t get it. I rented a car and drove down to Banff the following day, which was frustrating. Everything in Alberta is frustrating. I was in literally the middle of nowhere and stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Four times. Four. The Four and a half hour drive magically turned into seven. But I made it and it felt ok there. It’s definitely a tourist trap city but it’s convenient to get to some pretty insane nature. I think if I did it all over again though I would try to find something a little more off the beaten path. I went for a drive after throwing my stuff on the bed in the hostel and saw elk and a lot of rivers. Really big rivers. At one particular bend I ran into a group of probably 30 photographers all staked out to take the exact same sunset picture. It was kind of weird how much effort and preparation they
were putting into an image everyone else there was going to have. The next morning, I got up early with the intention of driving to Lake Louise, but not before the promised free breakfast at the hostel. Laughable at best. The girl at the desk had put out half a loaf of bread and a tub of margarine. I honestly didn’t understand and had to go back upstairs to ask her where it was. She confirmed that, yes; free breakfast meant the hostel was going above and beyond the call of duty with 6 slices of Wonder bread and margarine. For the entire hostel. Thanks. On to the Lake!

It took me about 45 minutes to drive there and it was already packed at 9 in the morning. They even had traffic directors in the parking lot. So crazy. So, naturally I decided to go exploring and found another lake, Lake Moraine, which was awesome and empty. They had signs on the trail saying you can only hike if you’re in groups of four because of the bears! So cool. From Lake Moraine I took the long way out of the park headed to Calgary. I felt like I was leaving something behind. It was definitely
sad being there and being alone and not talking to Meghan about random things. She would’ve lost her mind watching me hand feed the chipmunks (I know, I know, you’re not supposed to do that) but instead I had to share that with middle aged couple from Quebec. Banff is incredible, don’t get me wrong, but it felt unsatisfying. Meghan had been to Banff when she lived in Calgary and I was hoping to find some remnant of that or feel her presence or see something that altered my outlook. I
didn’t find any of that. I didn’t feel anything. Maybe I'm putting too much pressure on it or setting my expectations too high.

In Calgary I met one of Meghan’s best friends, Joleen, for the first time. That was a huge comfort and relief almost. It felt safe, like safe from the world for a minute where I can be near to a part of Meghan. I got to see where Meghan lived and worked and we did things that they would’ve done when Meghan was there. It was great. Like adding tiny pieces to this massive puzzle. The most unsettling thing happened though. Joleen and her mother told me that the second I got into

Joleen’s truck they felt Meghan there too. It felt the same as when Meghan would ride around with Joleen. That spun my head and I don’t know why. All of these expectations I’m setting for places and supernatural experiences I'm hoping to have are backwards. Or I'm thinking of it backwards. I’m not going out to find Meghan, I'm taking Meghan with me. I didn’t have that realization then. I left Calgary more confused than when I got there. I drove back to Edmonton in silence. Well, silence in my head at least. It was just quiet and kind of a blur.

The next night when I got on the train I felt like I was ending something, or almost like setting fire to it. Its like I'm burning
every bridge I cross. I don't mean I'm severing all ties or ruining relationships. I mean to say I'm not going to give myself an out or a retreat. I know the best things for me are ahead. I know that much good is before me and if I give myself an out, I might get scared and retreat into oblivion. I have to keep going and always forward. And that’s what leaving Edmonton felt like. I came out scraped, but still alive knowing I can’t go back. It's best to dust myself off, ruin all possibility of retreat and keep going.
I met some really great, genuine people, rolling through the prairies and got to share Meghan’s story. I’m actually doing it. I’m doing what I set out to, because of and for Meghan. The big picture is fulfilling, even though these small steps along the way don’t all feel like it.

I spent the last night in the back car with the observation bubble. It felt like everything was right. For that hour or two, everything felt ok and I felt content. The train really is the prettiest and most romantic form of transportation. It's like a chain of lanterns snaking it's way through the forest in the night. It's so perfect and calming and naturally fosters reflection.
Meghan chose well.

if you're interested in seeing all of the pictures from the trip so far, go here

Source: http://ms-mae.blogspot.com/2010/08/pilgrim.html

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Snowboarding

Hey i do not usually write about stuff i'm doing however I just had the most amazing day of snowboarding with my school from YWAM. Begun the day needing some snowboard gear (jacket, pants, gloves, goggles) and woke up late so it was a God thing everything worked out. Talk about crazy! First pair of pants offered were right size and then also found a jacket -

We travelled upto Porter's Pass and then i was wondering where the ski slopes were gonna be but as we travelled through Porter's Pass I realized "It's called Porters" that's where it'll be! Where should I go I wonder. First time at Porters. I come inside the lodge and i don't have my boots on so I proceed to take off my boots and think "I wonder if they'll fit" They were a bit of a tight fit, but after about 30 mins someone informed me "They're supposed to be snug like ice skates" Where am I going to get those gloves and goggles from? I was looking for Matt Hall for a while and asked around the slopes "have you seen Matt Hall?" I found out that he had stayed behind from the trip - where am I going to get gloves and goggles from??? So I head back to the Lodge. I let people know "Matt's not here" Josh says I can borrow his goggles - So he goes off to get some. Some of the leaders are gathered around sitting and having coffee and that's when I talk to Mark and say "I was supposed to get Goggles and gloves from Matt but I've found out that he didn't come. Did he leave any in the vans?" Mark says I can borrow his gloves, so I'm set. But after coming back I realize i don't know how to strap myself in. Josh comes out to show me how to do it. There's a beginner slope at the start. So without further ado, how did the snowboarding go?

Absolutely amazing, and exciting. I mean - my body is aching and so tired right now, but If this was my last day on earth I would be glad. "Sweet bro, you got burton bindings" We lock up my right foot and so there's no going back from here. I get the hang of the t bar (though I put it under my right arm - that's the way to do it) It's pretty relaxing just letting it take you up to the top - letting your foot guide you. But I definitely had so much fun after going down the hill - really fast. I dunno - the board is supposed to be smaller than usual so you don't go so fast - I enjoyed speeding down the hill, I need to get better at stopping properly. While going up the hill you point your toes forward - when heading down the hill you point your heels. "It's quite hard to turn - takes alot of strength" I say to begin with. Actually the though going through my mind is "How Am I going to do up the bindings afterwards - I found that pretty difficult too" Because of all the falling over I was using up lots of energy - that with all the clothes i was wearing, after two runs I could go anymore - I was about to faint. So I took a break, then headed into the lodge for lunch and sitting down. What's been so great is the company of people - encouragement and at the beginning excitement that I have just learned how to snowboard. Quick learning. I decide during the afternoon to go down again - i'm not sure how long I was out there but I enjoyed it - the snow was falling. Queues were a bit bigger.

I have to get used to the t-bar again. managed to get further up the slope. sped down the slope - managed to turn, and to stop. Right at the bottom. Shoot I absolutely crave going again. I can see how this could be addictive. Then we headed back to the base, "I am calling it a day" apparently everyone else was coming in as well. Listening to music, being with my YWAM family and hearing all the amazing compliments and everyone being so awesome made the experience even better. I guess i forgot to take photos. Looking forward to board with some folks soon. I have probably forgotten so much but what a day. I think I learned something from it, right? Maybe you can learn something too. It really is a great end to a fabulous day.

Source: http://radioatnathan.blogspot.com/2010/08/snowboarding.html

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An uncommon letter

Today I wrote my grandmother a letter. I suppose it's not every day that people write their grandmothers letters about salvation. Anyway, I'm gonna share it with you. (My last few blog posts have lacked in intellectual substance and it's just not like me, so I'm pulling myself together with a real post this time.)

I wrote her a letter because we had a brief conversation on the phone about what her church growing up taught her about salvation. I wanted to know if she had any assurance of going to heaven. Her answer, coming from a very Roman Catholic background, was heartbreaking. She is 77 now, and all she remembers from her younger church years is "do good."

I did not write the letter to chastise her or condemn or judge or criticize her. I realize that the truth of God can convict someone plenty. (Hebrews 4:12 says so). So... here it is. If you think this might be a good letter to send to someone you know, contact me about it. I may let you use it.

(not my own image)

_________________________________________

[I'll keep their names private. No humiliation is intended.],

After talking with you about what your church taught you about salvation, I'd like to tell you how to be saved and show you where in the Bible we learn about it. I won't put all the verses down (there are a lot), but the basic understanding, so that it's not complicated. Having assurance of going to heaven IS possible. And it has nothing to do with "trying to be good enough." I know the Catholic church teaches that, but the Bible teaches that faith is much more important than trying to do good works, and that faith saves us: Not good works. It's really very simple and it's so much easier than trying to follow so many rules and regulations!! Jesus didn't make people go through classes in order to be near Him. He just taught anyone who would listen! So, that's good news, right?! I think so! I can't imagine living a life of "I hope I stand a chance" as opposed to knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I will get to be with God forever. I think we all want that. We all want forgiveness and to see our loved ones in heaven. We all want to be approved by God and found worthy of spending time in His presence. I know I definitely want that for you both. I hope you'll read this and think really hard about it. It's not too late to talk to God, to love Him, and to have salvation. 

We obtain salvation by repenting of our sins and believing in the Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God. Here are some Bible verses where we are told that we must repent and believe in the good news of Christ Jesus:

• Luke 5:32 "I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to REPENTANCE." 


• Luke 24:47 ...[Jesus said to them] that REPENTANCE and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. 


• Mark 1:15 ..."The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: REPENT ye, AND BELIEVE the gospel."


• Luke 15:3, 5 "Jesus warned, "Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish."  (perish means go to hell)


• Romans 10:9 "If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved."  


• Matthew 22:37-40 "Jesus said to him (a lawyer), “‘You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and great commandment.  And the second is like it:‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” 

When you love the Lord, you do whatever you know He appreciates, just like when you love a person, you make it known. Repenting of your sins and believing in Jesus shows that you love God. Repenting means feeling bad for the sins you've committed, and then not doing them again. (Examples: You are never to take the Lord's name in vain, saying "Oh my God."  Stop doing that. Any time you use God's name for any reason other than to honor Him, it is a sin. If you have ever had sex outside of marriage, it is a sin. Stop doing it. If you have ever dishonored your parents, spoke maliciously against someone, gossiped, etc, you''ve sinned and need to repent. We all have a LOT to repent of. Not just one time. Every day.) If you've ever thought, said, or done ANYTHING that is not something God would do (God can't sin. It's impossible for Him to), it's a sin that needs to be repented of. Sin is anything that is contrary to the character of God (the nature of God, or who God is).

What happens if you don't repent? If you do not repent, you cannot go to heaven. How does God feel toward sin? I'll show you.

• Isaiah 59:2 "But your iniquities (sins) have separated you from your God."


• Romans 1:18 "For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men"


• If you die in your sin you will face the undiluted fury and fierceness of Almighty God. For "He himself shall also drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out full strength into the cup of His indignation. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smile of their torment ascends forever and ever" Revelation 14:10-11


• Luke 3:7 "Flee from the wrath to come"

God in His love provides the only solution to our son problem. Jesus Christ died in our place to pay for our sins. Good works cannot save you. They are tainted with sin. They good works you may have done are an offense to God. "But we are like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy as rags" (Isaiah 64:6). Christ died in our place to pay for our penalty, "But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruise for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him.... the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all!" (Isaiah 53:4-6)

What is true repentance?

1. Turning from sin to serve: "You turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for His Son from heaven" (1 Thessalonians 1:9-10) Turn from sin to faith in Christ. True repentance is a total turning of the total person from all sin, to submission to God. "Repent and be converted that your sins may be blotted out." (Acts 3:19)

2. Turning in one's mind: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before You" (Luke 15:18) True repentance agreed with God that sin is sin and that God is the true God. The more a person learns about God and sin the more that person can genuinely repent. A person has not repented who merely quits a sin because if is unhealthy, while not confessing that thing as sin. (1 John 1:9) "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, and He will have mercy on on him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon" (Isaiah 55:7)

3. A turning of emotion: "Blessed are you who mourn (weep and grieve over sin)" (Matthew 5:4). Unsaved people enjoy their "guilty pleasures" - sin. Repentant people are grieved by sin. We hate it and are repulsed by it; "put a mark on the foreheads of the men who sigh and cry over all the abominations that are done" (Ezekiel 9:4). True, in our sinful nature we are still tempted by the deceitful pleasure of sin, but the new man is grieved over any kind of attraction to sin. We hate the fact that we still desire to sin!The Spirit of God brings powerful conviction (great blame and shame) upon the Christian who falls into sin (John 16:8). We are ashamed of sin (Isaiah 44:9) and we love God (1 John 4:19; 5:3).

4. A turning of the will: True repentance wants to stop sinning and start serving God. A criminal may be forced to stop certain crimes like theft but does not want to stop. The reality of a jail cell forces him to stop. A truly repentant person cries out to God for deliverance and victory over sin, and fully intends upon turning from sin to serve God (Romans 7:18, 21).

5. A turning of actions: "They should repent, turn to God, and prove their repentance by their deeds" (Acts 26:20). True repentance is proven by a radically changed life. "Therefore, bear fruits worthy of repentance." (Matthew 3:8). If there is no change, there has been no repentance. "Therefore every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire" (Matthew 3:10). Zacchaeus the tax collector said to Jesus, "Look Lord, I give half of my goods to the poor; and if I have taken anything from anyone be false accusation, I restore fourfold.' And Jesus said to him, 'Today salvation has come to this house." (Luke 19:8-9)

6. A turning in faith: Repentance is a turning away from sin to saving faith in Christ "testifying .... repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ" (Acts 20:21). Those who trust their good works for salvation have not yet repented.

• Ephesians 2:8-9 "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is thegift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast."


• Romans 4:1-4 "What then shall we say that Abraham our father has found according to the flesh? For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. For what does the Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.” Now to him who works, the wages are not counted as grace but as debt."


• Acts 16:30-31 "And he brought them out and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”
  So they said, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.”


• Acts 4:12 "Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

Jesus said to multiple people in the Bible that "Your faith has saved you." Jesus never once said "Your good deeds have saved you."

I know this is long, but I really wanted you to understand what the Bible says about salvation. It is my prayer that you would come to a saving knowledge about Jesus and what He's done for you. I pray that God would help you in the areas you struggle in, and that you would accept His love and see Him in a totally different way than you ever did before. I pray that after reading this, you will pray to God and ask Him to forgive your sins, and confess that you believe Jesus rose from the dead and that He is your Savior and Lord. I pray that this is just the beginning of the best parts of your life, and that you will see that God is incredible. I pray that the Holy Spirit surrounds you and gives you more joy and peace than you've ever had before. The world mocks people who believe in Jesus and really have faith in Him, but God rewards those who endure to the end with all the riches of heaven. I know that God wants you to go to heaven. I have been praying for the whole family to accept Jesus as their Savior, and I won't stop praying. I also pray that you will want to read the Bible and really find out who God is, and that you will desire to go to a church. Not a Catholic church. Why? They don't teach the truth. It's horrible. I pray that both of you receive Christ Jesus together and that God uses you for His glory. You both mean a lot to me.

I love you and I hope you have a wonderful day.

Love,

Nicole

Source: http://marinewifeunplugged.blogspot.com/2010/08/uncommon-letter.html

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One World, Under God

My wife and I have visited maybe two dozen countries together, because we used to find travel phenomenally exciting. We used to delight ourselves by noticing all the differences, all the idiosyncrasies of national character and culture: the cuisine, the architecture, the music, the dress, etc. But recently, and particularly this time around as we continue our wanderings through South America for the next few weeks, the exoticism of travel is increasingly absent, and everything feels a little subdued and less, well...new. Things don´t quite sparkle as they used to simply by virtue of the fact that we are "abroad."

I have an idea why this is. True, the fact that we lived in a Mexican neighborhood in L.A., and that as Angelinos we hear Spanish spoken all the time, and that we are well-acquainted with Latino cuisine, and that the familiar bass-and-drum line of so much Hispanic music that we heard up there we continue to hear down here (you know the one, "boom-PA-boom-PA, boom-PA-boom-PA," if you´ve heard it once you really have probably heard it a thousand times) all naturally take away some of the newness we typically encounter when we travel.

But there´s more to it than that. As I´ve seen more and more of the world, all the differences which once seemed so vast have begun to grow smaller and smaller until they hardly seem worth mentioning any longer in comparison with the universal similarities of humanity and the human condition. All people, everywhere, eat what is available to them, build shelter and houses of worship, play music to celebrate life, work hard, love, suffer loss, raise the next generation, and die. Is it a small world after all? You bet it is.

So this nagging feeling that every place is really, at bottom, the same, has begun to temper my enthusiasm for the new. To put it another way, I´ve begun to have a hard time delighting in the rich textures and colors of the tapestry of human life because I´m too awed by how it all fits together into one big blanket. Or, to put it still another way, I´m having difficulty seeing the trees for the forest.

Since becoming a Christian, though, this has started to make a lot more sense. Terentius said that, being a man, nothing human was alien to him. I say that nothing can truly be foreign to me any longer because everything in the world belongs to Christ. The whole ball of wax was created through Him, and He is the ultimate goal to which it is directed. In Jesus, God became not only a specific man, but man, to show His love and acceptance of humanity as a species. This is why the Church endeavors to share this message of Jesus with all people everywhere. This is also why - even though Jesus Himself never set foot outside of a narrow strip of hotly contested eastern Mediterranean real estate - there are Christians in every country in the world today.

It is precisely because the mission of Jesus and the mission of his Church are completely universal in scope that the lament that Christianity is "too exclusive" seems so nonsensical to me. The message of Christ is preached to everyone, in all times, places, and situations, and everyone without exception is earnestly invited and accepted into the Church. The Christian Church is in actuality the least exclusive, most all-embracing, group of misfits, sinners, and saints in the world.

This is because Jesus is no respecter of borders. He doesn´t care whether your staple crop is corn or rice, whether your beast of burden is an ox or a camel, whether your folk music is played on a flute or a guitar. What He cares about is you. Us. Everyone. Turn on the news and it´s clear that the world is fallen and sinful, and man cannot help but do evil, often even when he means to do good. Anyone can see this. But it is only the Christian who also sees, and dwells in, the paradox that this same world - all of it - is already reconciled with God through the love of Jesus for all men, and His death for every one of us.

So what do I do now when I travel? I see sights. I take pictures. I eat different food. I drink mixed drinks. I smoke the occasional cigarette though I know I shouldn´t. I wander down cobblestone streets. I see a fallen world. I see a redeemed world. I see one human family, loved by Jesus, struggling to find its way under the sun.

Source: http://ten-minutetheology.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-world-under-god.html

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