As the Bee Panteth for the Honey

... or Nectar?

(What exactly did I learn in Animal Behaviors class?)

Dear Manjournal,

I taught dad how to play the saxophone. He blasted it all night long. The next morning he was playing it again, and this time he played the First Noel by ear. It was quite good. We all applauded. It's easier to teach an open heart. It's easier to learn with an open heart... (I probably shouldn't mention that he has perfect pitch). Christmas season was good this year.

"I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions. It's like saying on Thursday, 'I'm gonna go to the gym on Monday.' Why not go on Friday?" - brother M

Well you would believe in New Year's Resolutions if you were in need of one, and when people comment about you "my, my, how you've changed" you can just credit your resolution. "I know."

The only question to ask tonight is, "What is my New Year's Excuse?" Then maybe I'll be ready to lift them all up in the mountains this week, and I'll let Him know that I give it up all to Him. He's the only one in the business of changing hearts. I ain't messin widat. "If it weren't for you meddling kids, you would have turned the world upside down by now."

Change like a butterfly. Drink like a bee.

Very well, let's go. Good night.

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.

Blind Business

To make a short story ridiculously long...

After a long day at dad's office I tagged along with the staff to get some cheap all-you-can-eat meat at O-Dae-San (I should get paid for this). As the others were being seated I decided to do some business (pronounced binness). On my way to the restroom I was looking down at my right foot and walking in big strides to avoid a shoelace that came untied. Right before the doorway into the bathroom I got down on one knee to tie my shoes, but right then I heard someone coming up behind me, and because I am such a gentleman who doesn't like clogging up narrow passages I quickly tucked my shoelaces into my shoe and went straight into the bathroom. The man followed behind me and I quickly claimed a stall. As niagra was falling I wondered why I hadn't seen any urinals because if I had, I would have preferred them over stalls (locking the door is a hassle). Suddenly, I heard high heels clip clop into the restroom and a surprised, shocked, disgusted female voice asking:

"Oppa? Why are you in here?"

And the man who had followed me into the bathroom said:

"Oh, I just... this g... oops, sorry, wrong bathroom... mumble mumble"

(niagra still falls mightily as the conversation goes on)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDRAISER!!!

The man left quickly for the right door, the man door. Although the man was 'sheepish' enough to follow me in he had enough fuzziness to save the face of a fellow stupid sheep. Thanks. for nothing. I stood in the stall, helpless, like baby Moses as his mother put him in a basket in the Nile river. But I couldn't flush yet because that would give it away. I was pretty relaxed given the predicament I was in because I planned to wait until she either got into a stall or left and then ninja my out of there. But then I thought, oh shoot. the female must know already because girls don't usually stand... omg there's a monster gap in between the hinges, and my shoes omg my shoes are showing and I'm facing the toilet, omg she could totally see me. So much for privacy in public restrooms. At that point, my delayed fight-or-flight senses kicked in and my thought process went something like - Fear. Freeze. Sweat. Pee. Ice. Heroes. Stop. Time. Invisible. Disappear. Ding. Southwest. Commercial. Laugh. Joke. Shut. Up. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Idiot. Moron. I'm. Scared. Jail. Die. Then I calmed myself down in between shallow breaths and regained my statue, yes, statue.

The problem now was waiting for the female to leave. My prayer was that no more females would enter into this public domain. I waited for her to enter into a stall, but she had other business in mind. All I heard was the ch-kunk ch-kunk of the paper towel dispenser, then the clip clop of her heels to (please... outside) the sink, then the pshhhh of the faucet, then silence (finally?), then the clip clop of her heels to (c'mon... this time) the paper towel dispenser, and repeat the same process 5 times (no exaggeration added). Now I was getting frustrated... What is she doing? Writing a message on the mirror with wet paper towels? (in which it would have read "pervert in restroom call 911"). The 6th deadly silence in her fixed action pattern ritual was unusually long and that convinced me she was finally out, and without a second guess I flushed the toilet, unlocked my stall and...

CLIPPITY CLOPPITY!

... my heart dropped as I saw the female, with only her back visible, leaving the restroom. She knew. My guess is she was actually at the sink (in the silence), but when she heard me flush and unlock the stall she didn't want to embarrass me so she quickly left without finishing her face painting. Aww how niCELEBRATIONVICTORY! I lagged behind a few seconds and finally escaped. The next second I found myself entering the right door into the men's restroom. I walked in, closed the door behind me and thought, "Why did I come in here again?" According to my post-analysis, my manliness subconsciously needed to right the wrong and do something manly even if it was too late.

something like that.

I went back to my seat and told the party of my folly and it instantly became comedy. But my concern is that the man and the feman might be having a comedy show at my expense: "Dude, lol, there was, lol, this guy... lol"

On the plus side, the meat was scrumptiously delicious!

Mood: Thankful.

Moral of the story: Read your bible.

"Leave them; they are blind guides.

If a man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit."

M15:14

Pro Vision

"We pray that your time here will be challenging, a blessing to you, and greatly useful for God's service."

It's been a while since the family knelt down together and prayed. Thanksgiving. It was coming though because today was just filled with God's grace. The fundraiser surely 'raised the funds' and many were blessed as many more were a blessing. Then I came home and got a letter of acceptance. Nostalgia is not exactly the word, but it's the closest expression of today in my limited vocabulary. The next closest word would be urgency. And finally, peace.

A little bit like this clip that noon sent me. Although, she might be trying to imply something... that starts with "mom's favorite" and ends with "you wish."

Also, something about getting back to the Root.

joy

If He gives you a vision

He will give you provision

Midnight Flight

I am up because I need my medical meds

Today is the last day I take prescription pez

Two more pills and I'm out the door

Two more kills and the Strep steps no more

It's the red pill or the red pill

Catch 22 plus 6 more until

My wings grow back without the red bull

My strings go crack and become audible

Wake up at 6

Pick up the morning sticks

Eat again at 12

Lay down in my cell

Dinner at 6 again

My stomach is a pig pen

Then I stay up until the end

when I finally say amen

And repeat

Eat, eat, eat

Put it on my tweet

Wheat, wheat, wheat

and rice to be complete

I've learned a lesson

from all this special dining

Shut up and stop whining

Always give thanks

for the ultimate Healing

For faith is more than a

ipod touch

slide to power off

"How Bree Became a Wiser Horse"

what up, neighhhhhbor?

Here's a little venture into the ink well. I would name this daring company... Ace, if I had the intellectual property to mine own (although it may be grammatically incorrect, it does sound more boozgjwahzi than "my own") but sadly I do not. It will, without my bidding, be rightfully called The Horse and His Boy. Ahem. I shall continue with my superior tone and my eyes half shut with no regard to the winds or loose eyelashes.

There is a peculiar aesthetic to be had, noticed and observed in the telling of metaphors, in particular, metaphors within stories (oh how I was tempted to be redundant and write 'within metaphors' again and again about 3 times, but I am currently in the process of refining myself and these long winded parenthesis are a former shadow of me self arr). They must be strictly observed, but never highlighted because to highlight means to set in stone, or paper, its meaning and interpretation solely for the highlighter and no one else. It is to select just one wavelength in an infinite array of white light. There is nothing wrong in that just as there is nothing wrong in eating only the red skittles in a bag and ignoring the rest. I say "balderdash" (because it is a fun word to say).

Only the one who shines the light knows exactly where, and thus the reason for, the light to shine where it shines. When an observer sees where it shines it is important to see the whole of the shining, rather than the limited portion in which he (assume "/she". I'm not sexy racist) wants to see. This is unlike a buffet, where one can choose to eat whatever he likes for the pleasure of his appetite. If he does not pick up the Honk-Kong-style-fried-noodle soup, the "preparer of the food" (I will refrain from using the word 'chef' for I may offend the 'food is art' crowd save John Mayer and little children in high chairs) will not be offended or thought to be misunderstood as to why the "eater of the food" didn't try the whole palette of prepared food. This is more like a painting. And you can fill in the parallel blanks I am mentally (not) making in my head. And if you are a child of the King of Kings...

Alright, alright. I've had horrible ratings for my transitions (the latest being 6/10).

[Meanwhile], the metaphor hidden in a story is quite unique. The one who pens the story wields the power of revelation. It is not a mere show and tell, but a touch and feel; not a shallow dip in the water, but a total immersion; not a picture of a stranger, but a reflection of one's self. The former(s) is for prideful, assuming eyes that will simply narrow in on personal gain (what's in it for me? what can I learn from this parable?) and either be content, or frustrated with seeing very little. The latter(s) is for humble, lowly eyes that will not only open wide to discover the masterpiece at the light's end, but also gaze upon the beauty of the Artist. What becomes naturally highlighted, or we might say spotlighted, then, is our humble star gazer who now stands in the light in order to see the Light. Now this becomes a proper paradox for it is now personal, yet not for the person on his own account or his aiming of the spotlight on himself, but in light, and in the light, of a greater Person who originates and receives the splendor of it all.

(KABOOM! that's the sound of all my brain cells self-destructing simultaneously)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning... The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:1,14

The real peculiar thing is not all metaphors within stories are fiction.

[Finally], if you're wondering what's with all this bloody English talking, parenthetical nonsense?

Three words (interrupted by a single question word):

Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia!

Media

The plural of medium.

I heard on the radio (99.5) the other day about Phil Vischer. He is the creator of Veggie Tales. He has created another franchise for children's ministry called JellyTelly. Check it out!

yo! move over gabba gabba!

Here is a quote by Phil Vischer:

"It's taken me 14 years to learn this lesson, I'm hoping I can save you a few. Do you dream of the work that you can do for God? Do you carry ambitions for changing the world in His name? When you're ready to put them on the altar, to kill them, to let them go, to live your whole life without them resting solely on your relationship with God, you're ready to be used by Him."