Like a window

Transparency. When I shop for tape I usually like a good amount of transparency. I like the so-called 'invisible' tape, so it looks like the wrapped Christmas presents are holding themselves together, which is so cool. But transparency isn't just for tape and windows. I remember hearing about it being a good thing for people too, especially Christians. The thought, I think, was that it is better to reveal what is truly in your heart rather than cramming it all away inside where it can only fester. Plus, within the greater Christian community, aren't we all supposed to be caring and loving, able to lift each other up in prayer and to hold each other steadfast?
I am not writing this to chide anyone or to cause feelings of guilt (though if you do feel either of those, guilt or chiding, then I do strongly recommend that you examine that within your own heart and mind. We shouldn't be ruled by our emotions, but they are usually pretty good signposts for how we are truly doing, so it is a good idea to know what those signs are saying), although I might perhaps be chiding myself. You see, I am not very transparent. I would make a better door than a window. I play things very close to the chest, and it is not good. I suspect that no one really knows what's on my mind for certain because I simply don't tell anyone. My bad.
I am saying all of this with a specific story in mind. Over the week that I was in Winnipeg, I was hit with a bad case of the 'nobody-likes-me's. I have a history of this mindset, and I think it is indirectly (or perhaps directly) related to my opaqueness. In high school I was pretty much convinced that no one liked me - although that is a bit extreme. Never in my life have I thought that anyone hated me, and in fact, I am of the opinion that (and this sounds almost arrogant) no one doesn't like me. I am completely unaware of anyone who dislikes me. They may be out there, but if so, then they are avoiding me quite well, so that's cool. But what I do often feel is that no one really thinks about me* (read to the bottom for the irony of that statement) when I'm not around. I feel like I truly am proof of the old adage 'out of sight, out of mind'**. That translates into a low sense of self-worth and I am quick to point out, in my own mind, how little, completely innocent things are actually deliberate snubs, or accidental omissions. When I get feeling like that, I can be in a crowd and completely alone. It makes me unhappy to say the least.
The problem is, I think I am partially right, and it is largely my fault. I am not trying to become the martyr or to depress anyone (I have a direction that this is all pointing, I swear). Again, it comes down to transparency. Because I am so closed, there is nothing there worth remembering, unless they happen to think that I am a funny guy. Which I am. I know it's true, I say it every day. But outside of the sarcasm and wit, I don't present much to people, so there is not much to hold their interest. I don't like talking about myself very much, so I provide little in the way of personal information, and I don't like arguing much so I don't really present opinions either. Just being funny all the time gets annoying after a while (and it's hard), so I just fade away into the background.
If you have seen the movie About A Boy starring Hugh Grant, think of how his life was in that movie. There was nothing. I often feel like that, except without the money. I try too hard to be a self-sufficient island. I try not to share anything with anyone - I can survive on my own! But I can't. If all you can see is the outer surface, after a while you start to believe that there is nothing underneath.
So when I was having my sad attack at the orientation, I was on the edge of giving up. I had been doing pretty good up to that point, but I was suddenly slammed with these old familiar sensations. I withdrew into myself, a dangerous place to live.
Every night we gathered in a small area called the pit. It looked like a small amphitheater, big enough for thirty people to sit around comfortably. On this night, I think it was Thursday, I had spent a few hours on my own after supper because everyone just disappeared on me, one of those things, I wasn't actually to bummed out at first. Besides, I do think that it is good to have time alone, especially when you are an introvert such as myself. So that was cool. But as the time to gather for the evening neared I started feeling worse, wondering why no one wanted to hang out with me. I had to run to my room and drop some stuff off, and everyone was gathered around in the hallway (we were staying in a dorm), and they all started heading out. I trailed the group growing more and more despondent as we neared the pit. We entered the building and everyone peeled off to get a bottle of water. I wasn't thirsty, so I just went and sat down in the pit. There were a few people sitting around, mostly the leaders, so I sat down in an area where no one was sitting yet. As I sat I was hit with a virtual wave of bitterness. I was convinced that no one would sit by me, and at first it looked like I was right. The first few people sat down across the way, not even close to me. With every person that sat I grew more bitter (I don't do sad well, it usually is bitterness with some anger). Inwardly I was done. There was nothing left in the tank, I was ready to pack it all in, to politely decline the offer to go to Germany and to just go home, a broken and bitter man.
And then Meghan sat down by me. I was surprised, I had not been expecting that. As soon as she did, I heard a voice in my head say "but she's not sitting very close, so it doesn't count". It wasn't a feeling, but an actual voice, as clear as day. And it worked, too, for about a second. And then I was puzzled. Did that actually make any sense? What exactly did I want, for her to sit on my lap? Cuz that would have been extremely awkward. About this time Anne sat down on the other side of me. I am sure that neither of them we trying to cheer me up or having pity on me or anything like that. They just sat down where they wanted to sit, and it happened to be beside me. Very quickly I had no idea how to feel. I had this great mad-on all worked up, just ready to be justifiably bitter, angry at the Christians like I had been once before, and suddenly those feelings were as empty as the vaccuumm of space. Imagine a large group of people gathered for something, a concert or a protest or rally or something. Now imagine that things are going well, that the band is in the middle of their set, that the speech is at its apex...and then it is over. The drummer hits the cymbals one more time and they walk off the stage, or the speechmaker gets to his main point and says it in one sentence and leaves. Suddenly the crowd has nothing to do. They mingle and walk around for a bit, asking each other what happened, and eventually some start to walk away, soon leaving just one or two people standing in the field, until they too disperse. That was what my feelings did right then. This bitterness was suddenly done, but it didn't leave all at once. It milled about for a while in confusion, wondering what had happened, trying to get the party started again, but there was nothing left for it to grasp.
Afterwards I got into an actual conversation with Anne and Meghan and the feelings of bitterness just gave up. I felt like a million bucks. If I hadn't been feeling sick that night (I came down with a cold) I might not have gone to bed at all, so odd did I feel.
So how does this relate to transparency. I will tell you - this is the first time I have told that story. It is a good story, one with a happy ending. It is encouraging, it shows that God is always watching, ready to send help when we need it. But I didn't tell anyone, I couldn't. It was inside of me and I don't let anyone see that. I just don't think that is healthy.
I wonder about that thought I had, the one about Meghan not sitting close enough. It was an extremely illogical thought, and it was so vivid. I don't usually think that clearly even when I'm just thinking to myself. Thoughts that clear are usually spoken aloud (I talk to myself all the time). But this was almost visible it was so clear. It was a bit of a shock, sat me back on my heels, made me actually think for a moment. I wonder if it wasn't a last ditch attack by a beaten devil, kind of like the last volleys of a war already lost, just an attempt to do as much damage as possible. Had the thought been less blatant, more subtle, would I have succumbed to it? Perhaps. The temptation would have been there, but for the fact that Anne sat on the other side of me, slightly closer than Meghan, purely due to the geometry of the room.
So there you go, a piece of me that I didn't share before, a peephole into my thoughts. I will probably still say that I am fine when I am not necessarily fine. It is a fine line to walk between being suitably transparent and just whiny. And I don't think that everyone has to know everything about everyone. Some things need to be dealt with in different ways, some more hidden than others. That is okay, but simply not letting anything show isn't. I guess I still have a lot to learn in life. I thank God that He is a pretty good (and extremely patient) teacher.

*I read someting once that said: "You wouldn't worry so much about what people thought about you if you realised how rarely they actually did". Here's the problem: I constantly have people come up to me and tell me that they were talking about me the other day. I have people that I haven't seen for months say that to me, people that I don't even know all that well. I seem to be a bit of a conversation piece among certain people. It is odd. And yet I still feel like no one thinks about me when I'm not around. Weird, eh?

**I truly am a study in contrasts

Fools Of Us All - Chapter 14 (See April 29)

So this is the future, eh? I thought to myself as I ran. So far I am not impressed. I ducked through the doorway and skidded to a halt, turning just in time to see Caz obscured by a cloud of debris from the ceiling. Well, there was nothing I could do so I turned back and dove through the doors, praying at the last minute that they weren't locked shut.
They banged open and I went tumbling across the floor, ending up against a door. Shaking my head to clear it I looked up and down the hallway, noting with satisfaction that the doors had swung shut behind me, muting the sounds coming from the large room on the other side. The door that I was leaning against was the first door on the right, so I rose to my feet and hurried down the hall to the third door on the left. The doorknob was cold as I started to turn it slowly, trying to be somewhat covert on the off chance that there was someone within. Perhaps I could surprise them.
Thanks to the fact that I wasn't making much noise on my own I became aware of some loud voices coming from a room down the hall. I was going to ignore them until I heard someone say the name "Caz" quite loudly. Intrigued, I headed in that direction, crouching to avoid being seen through the frosted windows. There were two voices coming from the room, quite audibly to my surprise.
"What is going on?" came the first voice, a deeply soothing voice, though there was a discordant edge to it at the moment. A sillhouette passed across the window, arms waving in the air.
It was a moment before there was a reply, and I was starting to wonder if maybe he was talking on a radio to someone elsewhere in the building. "Interesting," came the eventual reply. "It would appear that when Caz returned she brought two friends with her."
"So there are three people running around here now?"
A slight chuckle. "You misunderstood me. She brought back one person, a young man..."
"The prophesied one!" I couldn't miss the sarcastic sneer in his voice at that.
"Ah, yes," came the slightly derisive reply. "Him. But along with them came a missile of some sort, possibly from the portable rocket launchers you sent back with the M.E.R.C. squad?"
A groan. "I knew sending those goon squads back would end be trouble."
"Yes, quite right. However, I must say that if it was engineered on purpose by the lass or the lad, then perhaps we should reassess matters somewhat." There was a pause. "Or perhaps not. It would appear that Caz is now under our control. The boy is not from this time and will be easy corral in the near future. The machine is still operational and the organisation is on the run. You have done well for us. Now all that is left is to get any information from the girl that we can and then dispose of her." There was a weighty pause. "That, I shall leave up to you."
Chills ran down my spine and settled in my gut at that. Just then a hand came down on my shoulder. Without thinking I grabbed it and flipped the person over my shoulder, using one of the throws taught to me by my martial arts instructor. The man landed heavily on the ground, sending his helmet flying, and I quickly lashed out with a pair of punches to the face, knocking him to
unconsciousness. I dragged him around the corner, trying to figure out what to do. I had to save Caz somehow and I had no idea how to do it. Unless...
A few moments later I pulled the helmet over my head, flipping the face guard down to completely obscure my features. I had no idea if this would work, but I had no other options open to me. It seemed to work in the movies, even when it was most unlikely. Such as now. The door opened and out walked a large man, likely the owner of one of the voices from the room. I snapped to attention, holding my breath. My best bet was the fact that the M.E.R.C.s seemed to be mercenaries, hired for a job and not really a part of whatever group I was now facing. With any luck that would mean that this man didn't know any of the troops personally.
"Come with me," he said, confirming that he had been one of the people talking in the room, "I need an escort to the prisoner room." He started walking away briskly and I followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief.
As I passed the door I snuck a look from the corner of my eye. It was empty save for a screen against one wall and a gumball machine in the corner, which seemed odd. The other voice must have been from somewhere else in the building after all.
As we reached the doors to the main warehouse area the man paused and turned to me. "Make sure your weapon is fully armed and ready to go. We have a prisoner to dispose of." He turned and exited the hallway, not pausing long enough to see me shudder. This was not going well at all.

It was Peter

I have had fun at work this week. We are renovating the basement of an acreage house and along with that job we are also cleaning the yard. That means tearing down all the old fences and getting rid of the piles of junk that were left behind when the last person moved out. A great deal of the junk is wood, so the easiest way to get rid of that is to burn it, so this week my job has been to manage some controlled fires. We have been using burning barrels mostly. We have a rather large clearing devoid of grass that we used to burn a pile of wood on Tuesday. It has been pretty good, and getting the area cleaned up has been nice to see - the entire property looked awful with all of this random junk sitting around, including an old Dodge Ram van (more on that later). The non-wood junk was gathered into a rather large pile and we are just waiting for a dumpster to be delivered so we can get rid of it.
Yesterday we got to work and someone (not me) got in the bobcat and started making more piles of wood to be ready to burn. It was quite windy yesterday so we couldn't actually burn anything, at least according to our burn permit, but there were still piles of wood and junk behind the house that we could gather, a few more fences to remove, that sort of thing. At one point the bobcat operator decided to take the ashes from the previous day's fire and move them, mostly just to make the yard look that much better.
An interesting thing about smoldering embers is that they often look like harmless ashes. I watched as the bobcat scooped up the ashes and dumped them on the garbage pile where they would be scooped up later when we had the dumpster. He then went around the other side of the building to collect more piles of junk. I went inside to talk to Jeff, see how he was doing. I think I had something else to do quick as well, it doesn't really matter. While inside Jeff tells me that he had found out that we can't burn anything today because of the wind, and then he asks me if we had started a fire because he thought he could smell something. We hadn't, and I told him that it was probably just the smell of the ashes that "the bobcat operator" had stirred up.
I then went outside and said "oh crap" and calmly walked over to where the bobcat was. After getting his attention I leaned in close to the bobcat's window and said "we should probably go put out the fire that is burning on the garbage pile." He didn't believe me at first, but it was completely true. There were large flames coming out of the pile of garbage, and there was no way we could just let it burn itself out, so we get the bobcat and dump piles of dirt on it to smother the flames, and spread out the pile somewhat to help prevent pockets of fire from smouldering without our seeing them. We also grabbed a hose and tried to spray it down, but the hose had so many holes in it that it looked like one of those sprinkler hoses, but it wasn't. We found another hose that worked and I spent an hour just spraying down that pile, soaking everything.
The rest of the day was less exciting but still fun, moving junk with a bobcat and, well, finding creative ways to hurt ourselves (that part wasn't quite so much fun). I guess the moral of the story is work doesn't have to boring, and also that it is good to have lots of rain in the days before you set a pile of garbage on fire because then the surrounding grass is too wet to burn.
Stay tuned, another chapter of "Fools Of Us All" should be up soon.

The Gauge Reads Full

Well I'm back. Didja miss me? I know I missed you.
Boy did I need a week like last week. I went to Winnipeg and was energised, recharged, filled up, invigorated, jazzed, primed, pumped and motivated. When I went I was wondering if I should even bother because everything was going wrong and I wasn't going to make it anyway. I was really down about my support, thinking that it wasn't going to come in at all and I there was no point in even trying anymore. Boy was that a wrong attitude. By about the second day I realised that God was much bigger than my worries. I had been so convinced that I knew that schedule that my support was going to follow, that I knew the timing, and when life didn't follow that plan, well, there was nothing left to be excited about. I actually was worried that I was going to get there and they would tell me to go home because I obviously wasn't going to raise enough money. I'm not kidding, I figured last week was my swan song. Then I found out that there were at least four people there who weren't even officially accepted by BFA (and thus they couldn't raise any support yet), and my sitting at roughly 40% (now 45%) was actually pretty good. These last few weeks are going to be a bit frantic, but now I realise that it is entirely possible. God wants me there, and I as long as I do my part I will get there on time.
I also just feel much more excited and energetic (at least mentally. I am still tired because I didn't get much sleep, especially the last night) than I did before I left. I met actual people who were actually going to BFA, and people who had, in actuality, worked and lived there. It is real, it does exist. God does want me there. I felt affirmed and encouraged. I was attacked and had said attack rebuffed in a chiding manner.
Okay, I wasn't going to explain that, but it is a bit...mysterious. Basically I was feeling sorry for myself and God sent someone to show me that I was being a bit of a dummy, but I say it was an attack because the situation occured near the end after I had already started really feeling a renewed sense of God's calling and if I had let it this pity party could have really hampered that, and it really did come out of nowhere. But I got the message and accepted it and now I will continue.
I feel like I learned a great deal and I met some really great people. We were fed amazing food by a wonderful woman. She said I was her best eater all week. That made me happy.
Most interesting of all, in some ways, was the last night. All week I had been writing a story that I've been working on, and the last night I was really inspired, getting some ideas down on paper, things that are really driving the story along. I get to a point where I know I have to go to bed and get some sleep, but instead I stayed up and watched the lightning and listened to the rain and doing some praying. Finally I went to my room and tried to get some sleep, but I was way to keyed up to actually sleep. Finally I sat up in bed and decided that I needed to read the books of Jonah and Amos. So I did and was struck by how much God had to say to me in those two books.
Jonah, as I'm sure you know, is a story about a man who decides to defy God's call on his life and go the other way. He gets swallowed by a large fish and then eventually follows God's instructions. Amos, as I'm sure you only may or may not know, is about a prophet who basically says that Israel is going to be crushed and scattered for their disobedience.
I read the two books and realised they were a warning to me. I had been starting to lean towards not going to Germany. I just couldn't see how it was going to happen and so I figured I had better start making plans for what I was going to do if I stayed, which was a totally not happy thought to me. But I was still going to a least look like I was trying because something good may happen, and I did still want to go. Something I had never thought about before, but which Jonah drove home, was that God's calling on a person's life isn't a suggestion from God. It's a command. I could succeed and even be pretty happy by following 'my own path', but when God gives a call, if I don't listen I am living in disobedience, and there are consequences to that. On the surface it may almost seem like Jonah managed to avoid any consequences, after all, even when he was swallowed by a fish he was still taken care of by God. But I say three days in a fish is punishment enough. That had to have smelled terrible! Amos had a similar theme - Amos prophecies against all of Israel's enemies, saying they will be destroyed. And then he says that Israel itself will be destroyed because they refused to obey God. Disobeying God is a losing proposition, even for those who are chosen by Him.
But if I follow Him, then He will surely bless my work. Jonah's preaching led the entire city of Ninevah to repent. Sure Jonah wasn't happy about it, but he had succeeded.
They also showed me that He has an amazing capacity for mercy and compassion. He saves Jonah despite his out and out rebelling. He saves the Ninevites even though they were one of the most sinful peoples. He says he will wipe out Israel, but not completely. Even though they have blatantly thumbed their collective noses at Him, he will still show mercy and allow a select few to survive, and through them He will bless the entire world.
And, in case all of these wonderful lessons were going to feed my ego and make me proud of the work I knew I would do at BFA, He showed me that "God did not call me to BFA because He need me for success, but rather because He wants me to share in His work!" (quoted from my journal entry that night). He doesn't need me to succeed. I am not so talented that I impressed Him and He hopes I will join His team. He is the sovereign one, I am merely someone lucky enough to be called to help.
I finally did get to sleep, much later than may have been good, but I definitely needed the lessons. He has shown me soo much this last week and I am eternally thankful.
I am still engaged in my fundraising efforts, but I feel much more confident about my chances now. God is so amazingly patient it just blows my mind. And now I am going to bed. Good night.

Need Fuel

I leave on Monday for a week long orientation in Winnipeg. There I will meet my fellow RAs, as well as some of the Janz Team official types. I am looking forward to this. I think it will make things a little more real than they have felt. Right now everything is so abstract, nothing more than emails and ideas. I know I say I'm going to Germany, but right now I am still just working and hanging out here and just living life much the same as I would otherwise. There are things I am doing different - the whole fundraising scope of activities is a bit different - but even with that it is still just theoretical in many ways. No one is actually sending money to me, and many people haven't started sending money at all yet. Those who are giving monthly might be starting this month, most are starting next month, and I just receive updates, mere numbers on a page. There is no real meaning attached to those numbers, not yet. If you were to take the German trip from me, I almost feel like the only difference would be a lowered level of stress and I would use less paper. That's about it. But once I'm in Winnipeg, once I meet other people, and actually do some work relating to Black Forest Academy, I think it will seem real.
The other thing I am hoping for is a renewed shot of enthusiasm. The past couple of weeks I have noticed my energy flagging. A curious thing about people is their ability to adapt to their surroundings, which is why humans are found in every part of the world, even the Antarctic. But more than physical, people adapt mentally as well. Put enough pressure on a person, then that person begins to grow used to that pressure. It's not always a healthy thing, and often it leads to break downs once the melting point is reached, but until then the human mind adapts. In my case that means I am almost a bit numb. I have been thinking about this and worrying and stressing and hoping and planning and looking forward to the next two years that I am starting to lose steam. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm starting to lose feeling, becoming used to the whole idea that it is not new or fresh or interesting.
Except that is not quite it. I think the idea of numbness is more accurate. I just can't feel the enthusiasm I used to feel. Ah, it's like a person who has to constantly deal with a rebellious child, or someone who has to fight every step of their life against poor circumstances - poverty, poor education, bad living conditions, etc. Eventually they just stop caring, they become used to everything and just numb to it all. They start to live life as though they are unable to change anything; whatever happens, happens and there is nothing to be done about it. That is how I am starting to feel. It is not a guarantee that I am going, I still have about 40% more to raise before I am officially allowed to go (I need to have a minimum of 80% of my monthly amount of $1800 raised, and I am around 40%), but at this point I am starting to just not really want to do anything. There is nothing left in the tank, and whatever happens at this point is beyond my control. That is both the truth and a lie. I can go around and ask more people, even stand in the mall and hand out letters to strangers. Not the best idea, but that is just an example of one of the many things I could do. On the other hand, even if I got the word out to every person on the planet, I cannot make a single person give me a dime. This is truly in God's hands, as it always has been. But I know he wants me to do my part, but I just can't make myself get enthused about it.
I am fully hoping, and even expecting, this trip to give me a boost. I almost need it to do so, I just don't have the internal reserves left right now. My week in Winnipeg may be the best thing to happen to me so far this year.
Well, that's my life right now. If you have contributed to my trip, whether through prayer or finances, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you have yet to do so but are planning on it, I encourage you to do so as soon as possible, for the sake of my sanity if for no other reason. If you haven't thought about it yet or are unsure, I ask that you remember me in your prayers and seriously consider supporting me financially. Please.
Boy it will be nice to finally be there, this preparation stuff is for the birds.

Literary Conundrum

I have run across a completely unexpected problem in my preparations for Germany. I have too many books. It's not even that I have all that many, but I can't take all of them with me; they're too heavy. I'm trying to take as few as possible because my weight limits on my luggage is restricted, and shipping things will cost an arm and a leg. Whoops, doorbell. I'll be right back.
Back. There was no one there. It was on the TV show I'm watching. I gotta stop doing that.
Anyway, I was going through my books today and I started picking out the books that I want to take for sure. There are some Douglas Adams books, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, some Tom Clancy books, some sci-fi, and some fantasy - all told about 30 books. Those are for sure that I want to take. But there are another 30 or so that I want to take with me, or I might want to take with me. Plus some of my comic collections. Leaving my Far Side collection behind is going to be tough, but it is two huge hardcover books both in weight and size. They are twice as tall as a standard paperback. And I just remembered a bunch more books that I had that I have to go through now.
And the show Alias has to stop killing people or having them leave the show. Stupid people.
That adds another four books that I would like to take. It's not really a huge problem compared to my financial status (please give :) ) but it is unexpected. I'll get it figured out, don't you worry. I'm good at making decisions.
Sigh.
Also, our gas was shut off late Friday afternoon. That means no hot water. Or furnace for that matter, but it has been entirely too nice to need a furnace. But cold showers are terrible. I actually boiled a whole lot of water and used that to have a lukewarm bath. Baths suck.
Sigh.

Ghoti

I love/hate the English language. There are so many things that just don't make sense. Why don't the words 'rough' and 'cough' rhyme? They're spelled the same. Why aren't they spelled 'ruf' and 'cof'? That's how they are pronounced. And how come there is no 'f' sound in the word 'through'? And it doesn't rhyme with either rough or cough. Thorough examination shows that the word thorough doesn't sound like any of the other words even though it is spelled basically the same. How did the letters 'ough' end up having so many different ways of being pronounced. What about the word knife? What is up with the K? Then the word knight is even worse. It should be spelled Nite, though that would make it hard to differntiate from the word night. Here's a fun (to me) one. One hockey team won their hockey game 3-2. Another hockey team won three to two too. There you go, three words that aren't spelled the same but are pronounced the same. How goofy is that. There are many other examples that I could give. But I am tired. It is interesting, you have to admit.
Oh, by the way, the word in the title is another way to spell 'fish'. For those who don't see it, examine the words 'rough', 'women', and 'nation'. For those who still aren't catching it, look at the words again: rou(gh), w(o)men, and na(ti)on. See, ghoti.
G'night!