Obadiah

hello, my name is wookie.

"Look!"

I pointed excitedly towards the playground as soon as I spotted a row of tricycles parked near the fence. Dad led noon and me away into the main office of Monte Vista Elementary School where we waited in big uncomfortable chairs as he filled out some forms and chatted, in sign languish (sign language + sporadic grunts in English) with Vera the secretary. After many more bla blas and blur blurs I found myself standing in front of about ten intensely curious 5 year olds, sitting neatly in individual little boxes drawn on the floor with masking tape.

"Wook."

The secretary introduced me to my kindergarten class, and from there on my memory is vague and dreamy. I do remember riding the tricycle and racing around the track. I remember learning "Bubble gum, bubble gum" (and figuring out how to count cards people before they asked me, "How many pieces do you wish?"). I also remember a kid named Andy McSomething who called me by my kindergarten name up until middle school. We talked about basketball.

This blurry memory fast forwards itself to 13 years later. I remember a friend of mine in college, who invited his suitemate to a Christian club meeting. The suitemate lashed back and told him to stop trying to convert him. And that was the end of that. 1 Peter 4:16 I look back and I rejoice for my friend to the point my heart aches because I see the Father say, "Well done!"

Time tells the tale. I've been blessed with K-12 education and beyond x2. I'm done counting monetary greens. Now I'm being led to greener pastures. Life is moving quickly here and there's no time to even wish for diligence. Hard work comes to those who work hard. There may be trials now and they may only be training for more suffering to come, but Peter encourages me to lift my eyes from the footprints in the sand. He's got his eyes on something way beyond the horizon. Somewhere. Someone.

Rejoice in sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Rejoice. I do not lose hope for His joy is my strength. His joy is my joy. Again I say, rejoice.

Looking back at a seemingly linear flow of events transcended by what we call time, I'm beginning to see past the backdrop of tricycles, bubble gums, classrooms, and diplomas. There's another introduction to be made somewhere over the fence. And I wonder...

Perhaps joy comes when we simply step away from the frame and behold the Picture.

Hiatus

Hi...

atus.

"It's been a long time comin' up here now.
From the streets to the church - all in your ears now."

3 months. It's been 3 months of post college life. But I'll get to that later. I can describe it in full, and at the same time I can't say I know in full. It's like a puzzle. I see what the picture is on the puzzle box, but I would be lying to say I put it all together unless I connect the actual pieces.

As the words and sentences connect themselves...

Hm. I sound like I'm up in the clouds. I can feel it in my face. FYI here's a little secret: The face expression you have when you write is the feeling you will convey to the reader. (Just a small nugget of wisdom I discovered by reading what I write.) If ya don't know, now you know n. So in the first paragraph I looked all types of scholarly and high and mighty, but right now I look like a bum... J-bum... like one who is unable to take off the weights of oppression and rise above the race. H12. At the end of the day, your expression is your expression. Love or hate comes from your love or hate. You are you. Nobody else to sue. Makes it all the more hopeful and glad to be made in His view. I mean image.

Back in gear. Happy back to school! UCs are starting up this coming week, but you see, I will not be participating this time around, no, not I. This is the first September in 17 years of public education that I'm not going "back-to-school." I write this as I artfully dodge 10 pound text books and hosts of office supplies and Revelle (echo. echo. echo.) breakfast burritos and origami knives made out of class schedules and syllabi and virgin longboards launched from fort Peterson. Just a few words to all ya haterz still kickin' it old "school," if I may... na. nanana. nana. nana. canttouchthis.

It feels good and bad. Chorus is necessary. Though I am not physically going to school I still had to worry about school. After spending the majority of summer poring over the application process, I finally submitted my application to Talbot this week. Praise the Lord! It is all in His hands. (This paragraph was written with a big smile.)

Now on to the main dish. The title is a misnomer. (Yes! I finally used misnomer... always been on the look out for that one. *check* next word on the list is platitudinous). Hiatus would mean that there's been a break or gap in the process, but that is not entirely true. The writing process may have been stagnant, but the life behind the curtains has been filling the gap, so to speak. Filling the gap of this cavity. Being shaped and reshaped. Broken and remade. Molded and remodeled. JM18:4 It's amazing to know that our Father is always at work in us. J5:17. All glory to God.

This has been a trailer for more to come. Puzzle pieces are GO!

Don't blink.

Close your eyes. M6:33.

Church Activities

We used to make up bad words - words that would hurt the target and satisfy the shooter. Being in a church setting, we had to keep it PG not because we had a choice, but because that was all our elementary minds knew. We bullied 4th graders because we were 5th graders. We bullied 8th graders because two 5th graders made one 10th grader. Our created words were the funniest things to us, and we would ping pong back and forth to see who got the smash hit that would irresistibly cause the ball to, well, have a ball and laugh to tears with us.

"You have a wrinkle-butt!"

"Your face is a butt-crunch!"

Any time the word 'butt' came up, it was automatically too funny to be an insult. But words were only the beginning. We would run around the church and start wars, using old dolls, stuffed animals, and children's books as weapons and chairs and tables as forts. All this would be happening while the adults were eating lunch in the kitchen.

"Yah! needul bahp muguh!" (Hey! You guys food eat!)

We would eat as quickly as possible and then take a box of matches up the hills into the back lot where we would light any animate object (usually insects) on fire. We used to stomp on bees and see their guts spill out (which was usually white and not yellow like honey) and explore the tropical deserts as we endured the pines that pierced through our socks. Then it was time for fireworks. I would buy these tiny tnt looking firecrackers, which were probably illegal, from the Mexican ice cream truck, place it on the playground swings and then light them on fire. "Just like looney tunes!" One time we lit one string and ran to a safe distance, but when the cracker didn't go off for awhile I boldly but cautiously crept up to check ifBOOOM! ... and my face blew up. or at least I thought so because it stung like a bumble bee, or a hornet.

Speaking of Hornets, we used to play basketball on top of the parking lot hill that doubled as a full court with only one basket. Playing ball was tricky because there was a steep 47 degree hill right behind the hoop, as in the pole was cemented into the very edge of the cliff. This made airballs deathballs. If you made an airball then you would have to climb all the way down the weed infested hill (which was waist high) to retrieve the ball as everyone stared you down and let you know how bad you are. That's why I never make airballs now. Three words. Magic Mountain baby.

After all that we, or now I, would get into fights and throw handfuls of rocks high in the air, first as a scare tactic, and then... never again after one of my bullets decided to hit the pastor's son square on his head - instant fruit punch fountain from the think tank. Ohhhh yeaaahh noooo! I got yelled at and then ran out to play again like nothing happened. I did feel bad though. Like bada~~!

But running and playing wasn't all fun and games. We were avid readers as well. There was one Sunday in particular when my friend brought to church Dragonball Volume 42, the last and final and most epic and gg pwnage and long-awaited manga in the history of saiyankind. We hid in the backseat of a car and read through as much as we could before the evil androids caught us saving the world one panel at a time.

When church was over we would walk to each others' houses and play N64 all day long and then watch a video. Sadly, I was rarely allowed to sleep over friends' places (but allowed to have friends sleep over my place. weird. my parents love me.) so the 4 or 5 times that I did, I. was. so. excited! while everyone else was thinking 'eh another sleepover.'

Then I would count down to next Sunday.

Oh and of course I remember the people too, especially the ones we were a nuisance to. I remember Mimi and Gina teacher in particular, the twins who did body worship and bible studies and everything in between. I thought that was how all churches did it - hire twins as ushers, or body worshipers, or offering basketers, or anything that's good in pairs. I heard that back in the days before the internet was in the average household, the twins would listen to Christian radio stations and whenever they heard a new song they would write down the lyrics, learn the piano part, create the body worship, make the transparency for the overhead, and introduce the final product to us on Sunday mornings. Now that I think about the dedication and effort they put into teaching us God's Word I can't help but thank God because I still remember not specific words they said (except 'Oh my peanut!' sorry another story), but their love in their actions and their sacrifice.

When all the "church activities" are done and all the discussions settle down the only thing that's left is His perfect LOVE for me in His Action and His Sacrifice. So take heart my heart. Dedicate once again and even more so to making disciples of all nations. Laugh, but this time give Words of Life. Make war, but this time in the spiritual battlefield. Set a fire, but this time fire up a passion for Jesus name. Read, but this time read and meditate on God's Word. Fight and throw rocks! No, don't fight, pursue after peace. Play, but this time spell check and pray. Visit, but this time go over to each others' spiritual houses. Count down, but this time wait for the Lord and take heart.

Begin to ACT in Love.