June and July were crazy. Two solid months of Comprehensive Greek. Like I said; crazy. I was planning on taking a class in August but Rebecca suggested I take a break. As she was talking I figured she meant a break from class but I will need to get a job. No. When she said a break she meant just that. Time off to do nothing but refuel the soul. Did I mention my wife rules?
So as of July 26 at 3:15pm I have been on vacation. I will remain on this vacation until September 4.
It's kinda weird. I'm the kind of person who cannot sit still. I must be doing something or I'll start feeling worthless. So I have done my best to fill my time with good stuff. Not just stuff, but the good kind.
I've gone fishing, played tennis, did a week in GA to see family and friends (I need a vacation from that!), gone to the dentist and doctor's office for check-ups, cleaned, and read books that I chose instead ones that were chosen for me. I'm not sure why I need to stay busy, but I do know that my idol mind is the devil's playground. So filling my time with good stuff in turn fills my soul with good stuff and good stuff keeps the bad stuff away.
I have two weeks to go before my August off is complete. I fully understand the abnormality of a thirty four year old having a month off from work responsibilities - my brother made sure to insert his playful jabs of envy.
Time off is good, but the routine, for me, is also good. All in all it's been enjoyable. I recommend everyone taking some time off. I guess I have nothing more to say than that.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
the best day
This past Father's Day I actually got breakfast in bed. When is the last time you've had breakfast in bed? It was the best ever.
I woke up to Cavender standing by the bed saying, "Happy Fadder's Day, DaDa." -That alone would've sufficed, but immediately walked in Rebecca with breakfast on a tray. Complete with o.j., extra napkins -you don't want crumbs in the sheets- and a huge cinnamon thing that I ate off of all day long.
So we got up and hung out in the den for a while. Then went to the playground and played in the beautiful morning with Cavender. All day long everything went well.
That evening I actually got to grill some massive steaks that Bec got on "Manager's Special." The sun was out, the sky was blue, the charcoal was hot, I was sitting in my fold up camping chair complete with arm rests and cup holders, with a beautifully brewed cup of ice cold sweet tea. All was good in the world.
Even though I was actually sitting on the concrete sidewalk beside an asphalt pad and the cinder block side of the student apartment building in which we reside, you couldn't have convinced me I wasn't in the north GA mountains beside a trickling trout stream that I was about to own. It was kind of like the scene in the Shawshank Redemption when they were spreading tar on the roof on a hot day, but after a sequence of events the guards provided them with a beer and allowed them to take a break to enjoy their refreshment. Similar scenario with only a few differences.
Life was good. No, no. Life is good. I love my Father's Day; it was the best.
I woke up to Cavender standing by the bed saying, "Happy Fadder's Day, DaDa." -That alone would've sufficed, but immediately walked in Rebecca with breakfast on a tray. Complete with o.j., extra napkins -you don't want crumbs in the sheets- and a huge cinnamon thing that I ate off of all day long.
So we got up and hung out in the den for a while. Then went to the playground and played in the beautiful morning with Cavender. All day long everything went well.
That evening I actually got to grill some massive steaks that Bec got on "Manager's Special." The sun was out, the sky was blue, the charcoal was hot, I was sitting in my fold up camping chair complete with arm rests and cup holders, with a beautifully brewed cup of ice cold sweet tea. All was good in the world.
Even though I was actually sitting on the concrete sidewalk beside an asphalt pad and the cinder block side of the student apartment building in which we reside, you couldn't have convinced me I wasn't in the north GA mountains beside a trickling trout stream that I was about to own. It was kind of like the scene in the Shawshank Redemption when they were spreading tar on the roof on a hot day, but after a sequence of events the guards provided them with a beer and allowed them to take a break to enjoy their refreshment. Similar scenario with only a few differences.
Life was good. No, no. Life is good. I love my Father's Day; it was the best.
Friday, May 18, 2007
mission completion!
When I was training for the half marathon, I tried to stay as close to the training schedule as possible. Throughout the week I wasn't a regimented with the short runs as I should have been. However, the long run was on each Saturday. It was then that the entire group that was training ran together. Eventually the long runs got to the point that we had to find some country roads because running long distances in town was quite cumbersome.
We trained in weather that was 10 degrees with driving winds while it was snowing or sleeting. (A few of us) trained in the pouring rain. We trained in the surprisingly hot Spring mornings. We trained in every kind of condition.
Rarely though, was the weather as bad as the hills on our running course. These roads were barely two lane with cow pastures all around. The course had long gradual hills that seemed to never end, it had short steep hills that seemed to go straight up, and there were the not-so-bad hills that were there just to add variation in the elevation.
There was one hill that I loved. It wasn't because it was the smallest hill, and even though it was, I didn't love it because it was the last hill. I loved the hill because one hot morning I was listening to Chris Tomlin in my iPod and just as I was cresting the hill. That point was as though I was not running to complete the course, but I was running to the entrance of heaven. The sun was fully atop the tree line, a gentle breeze blew, I was energized by my second - or third - wind, and Mr. Tomlin was singing praises to our Lord. It may sound cheesy, but each time I crested that hill I remembered that moment and was happy.
Well, the half marathon has come and gone. I ran well - even better than I expected. I have a wonderful sense of accomplishment. But I think that sense of accomplishment is tainted by the desire for the future accomplishment of being in the presence of Christ, joining the saints and angels sing praises, and being able to look back on my life with a humble pride.
I can look back and see how I managed to withstand the long gradual concerns that life offers.
I can look back and see how I managed those problems that seem to be impossible to overcome but in reality they're just short little hills that take a little more effort, but are easily defeated.
I can look back at my life and see the slight ups and down that just built character and simply kept the days interesting.
And I will look back on my life and see reality of that last hill. The hill that God gave me the strength to crest and see the finish. The hill that I never thought I would get to when I was starting the run, but always managed to defeat just before the end of the run.
I am musing because I just emailed the last project that completes my semester. I am drained. This last week was tough. But I managed it well. The end is here, now I can rest.
The best thing about 'completing a mission' is remembering the hills; and being assured that I would never have come close to the finish line without Christ seeing me through.
I am proud to say the mission that I accepted at the beginning of February has been completed. Spring semester is done. It is time to rest.
We trained in weather that was 10 degrees with driving winds while it was snowing or sleeting. (A few of us) trained in the pouring rain. We trained in the surprisingly hot Spring mornings. We trained in every kind of condition.
Rarely though, was the weather as bad as the hills on our running course. These roads were barely two lane with cow pastures all around. The course had long gradual hills that seemed to never end, it had short steep hills that seemed to go straight up, and there were the not-so-bad hills that were there just to add variation in the elevation.
There was one hill that I loved. It wasn't because it was the smallest hill, and even though it was, I didn't love it because it was the last hill. I loved the hill because one hot morning I was listening to Chris Tomlin in my iPod and just as I was cresting the hill. That point was as though I was not running to complete the course, but I was running to the entrance of heaven. The sun was fully atop the tree line, a gentle breeze blew, I was energized by my second - or third - wind, and Mr. Tomlin was singing praises to our Lord. It may sound cheesy, but each time I crested that hill I remembered that moment and was happy.
Well, the half marathon has come and gone. I ran well - even better than I expected. I have a wonderful sense of accomplishment. But I think that sense of accomplishment is tainted by the desire for the future accomplishment of being in the presence of Christ, joining the saints and angels sing praises, and being able to look back on my life with a humble pride.
I can look back and see how I managed to withstand the long gradual concerns that life offers.
I can look back and see how I managed those problems that seem to be impossible to overcome but in reality they're just short little hills that take a little more effort, but are easily defeated.
I can look back at my life and see the slight ups and down that just built character and simply kept the days interesting.
And I will look back on my life and see reality of that last hill. The hill that God gave me the strength to crest and see the finish. The hill that I never thought I would get to when I was starting the run, but always managed to defeat just before the end of the run.
I am musing because I just emailed the last project that completes my semester. I am drained. This last week was tough. But I managed it well. The end is here, now I can rest.
The best thing about 'completing a mission' is remembering the hills; and being assured that I would never have come close to the finish line without Christ seeing me through.
I am proud to say the mission that I accepted at the beginning of February has been completed. Spring semester is done. It is time to rest.
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