Just a quick update:
Sunday, April 11th, 2010 - The Kenya Mission Group will present its report to the congregation during the 10:00am service at Lakeside Presbyterian Church. This report will focus primarily on our Kenyan partners - who they are, what they do, and why God is with them.
And then, on Saturday, May 1st, 2010 - The Kenya Mission Team is proud to present our first annual Kenya Dinner at 6pm at Lakeside Presbyterian Church. In addition to an authentic Kenyan buffet, this fund-raising event will also include hundreds of slides and photos, a few short testimonials from the trip participants, and the "official" video of the Kenya trip (made by me!)
I would ask that if you plan to attend the dinner that you please let me know and I'll be happy to place a reservation for you. We'd like to know how much food to prepare since we've never done anything like this and we can't expect hungry teenage African kids to eat all the leftovers ;)
Hope to see you there!
Will
Monday, March 29, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Bouncy Bouyant Bubbling Optimism Returns
Don't ask me why. I've had the week from Hell. In fact, it makes other weeks from Hell look like cakewalks by comparison. That week of college finals, PT Test in the Reserves, 7 days of work at Century Theaters, a flat tire on the freeway, and food poisoning - NOTHING! That week I was dumped by my girlfriend and had to fly off for my two weeks in the reserves - Pathetically easy! That first week of Boot Camp... um... well... No, nothing comes close to this week in terms of bad weeks.
And yet... its Friday. And although I still have to cram my scream inducing leg into my car and then hobble on to BART, then walk eight blocks on my bum leg in order to try and sit through a two hour movie without dinner, not to mention the standing up and sitting down I still have to do over and over and over again tomorrow as part of my Last Disciples Dress Rehearsal (repeated again just the once on Sunday), and, of course, the fact that I still don't have a bathroom or hot water in my house... I feel great.
Its like someone threw a switch and said, Okay, Will, now you're going to have a great weekend.
I feel like Job at the end of his book right before God restored all his fortunes. Just knowing that the ordeal was over must have been the best moment of his life. That sweet ecstasy of release, of the promise of a better world ahead.
I feel good. I knew that I would.
Have a great weekend!
And yet... its Friday. And although I still have to cram my scream inducing leg into my car and then hobble on to BART, then walk eight blocks on my bum leg in order to try and sit through a two hour movie without dinner, not to mention the standing up and sitting down I still have to do over and over and over again tomorrow as part of my Last Disciples Dress Rehearsal (repeated again just the once on Sunday), and, of course, the fact that I still don't have a bathroom or hot water in my house... I feel great.
Its like someone threw a switch and said, Okay, Will, now you're going to have a great weekend.
I feel like Job at the end of his book right before God restored all his fortunes. Just knowing that the ordeal was over must have been the best moment of his life. That sweet ecstasy of release, of the promise of a better world ahead.
I feel good. I knew that I would.
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Weighing in on 3-D films
My exposure to 3-D goes back years. My Dad was always affiliated with clients that owned movie theaters so as a kid I got to see a lot of revivals of old 3-D movies (It Came From Outer Space being one that I remember). These movies always seemed to be perfectly ordinary films until someone threw an axe or pie or something to try and make the audience jump. It did nothing for me then. It does nothing for me now.
In the 1980's Disney came out with a real good 3-D system for use in their parks. First with Magic Journeys then with Captain EO, and later with attractions like MuppetVision 3-D, Honey, I Shrunk The Audience and It's Tough To Be A Bug, Disney made 3D real. For the first time, a character would fly out in front of you and you'd think they were right over the head of the guy in the next row. Really spectacular stuff... except that after 30 minutes or so of this I would have such eye-strain that tears would be flowing out of my eyes. As much as I loved the effect, I had to wonder what damage it was doing to my vision.
So when James Cameron, et al, decided to start experimenting with 3D films again, I assumed they had developed a way to take the eye-strain out the new 3D process that Disney had developed to create REAL 3D films. What a great idea. But then, they also started charging ridiculous amounts of extra money to see these 3D films.
Finally, last week, I managed to snag a free ticket to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D. The film, while being well made, was actually kind of boring. But I didn't really care because I was mostly there to review the 3D effects.
First, the good news... there was no eye-strain. I sat through the entire film with dry eyes and no headaches.
Second, the bad news... the 3D effects were lousy. They weren't as bad as the old House of Wax gimmicky 3D of the past, but they weren't Disney Attractions quality either. They were somewhere in between in what I could only describe as the kind of 3D effect you get looking at a View Master. For this, I would have had to pay an extra $3 per ticket.
Now, to be fair, I didn't see Avatar in 3D and the descriptions I heard were that the effects were amazing. So perhaps Cameron has developed true Disneyland 3D for films (which would probably cause the eye-strain). But shouldn't all 3D quality be the same before Hollywood jumps all over the 3D bandwagon?
I remember seeing my first surround sound movie - Super Mario Brothers - and being impressed by the sound for about ten seconds. Then I realized that this gimmick was going to cause ticket prices to go up so that movie makers could afford to put surround sound on Woody Allen movies. Now, I think the same thing is going to happen again with 3D... and quite frankly, I don't need to see or hear Woody Allen in 3D or surround sound.
Jerry Bruckheimer was recently asked if the Prince of Persia movie or the next Pirates of the Carribean would be in 3D and he responded that 3D wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if the story wasn't compelling to the audience. That guy is one smart cookie. So, I for one am hoping that this trend for 3D movies dies a quick death. I don't want to pay extra for a gimmick that doesn't improve the theater going experience in the slightest way.
In the 1980's Disney came out with a real good 3-D system for use in their parks. First with Magic Journeys then with Captain EO, and later with attractions like MuppetVision 3-D, Honey, I Shrunk The Audience and It's Tough To Be A Bug, Disney made 3D real. For the first time, a character would fly out in front of you and you'd think they were right over the head of the guy in the next row. Really spectacular stuff... except that after 30 minutes or so of this I would have such eye-strain that tears would be flowing out of my eyes. As much as I loved the effect, I had to wonder what damage it was doing to my vision.
So when James Cameron, et al, decided to start experimenting with 3D films again, I assumed they had developed a way to take the eye-strain out the new 3D process that Disney had developed to create REAL 3D films. What a great idea. But then, they also started charging ridiculous amounts of extra money to see these 3D films.
Finally, last week, I managed to snag a free ticket to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D. The film, while being well made, was actually kind of boring. But I didn't really care because I was mostly there to review the 3D effects.
First, the good news... there was no eye-strain. I sat through the entire film with dry eyes and no headaches.
Second, the bad news... the 3D effects were lousy. They weren't as bad as the old House of Wax gimmicky 3D of the past, but they weren't Disney Attractions quality either. They were somewhere in between in what I could only describe as the kind of 3D effect you get looking at a View Master. For this, I would have had to pay an extra $3 per ticket.
Now, to be fair, I didn't see Avatar in 3D and the descriptions I heard were that the effects were amazing. So perhaps Cameron has developed true Disneyland 3D for films (which would probably cause the eye-strain). But shouldn't all 3D quality be the same before Hollywood jumps all over the 3D bandwagon?
I remember seeing my first surround sound movie - Super Mario Brothers - and being impressed by the sound for about ten seconds. Then I realized that this gimmick was going to cause ticket prices to go up so that movie makers could afford to put surround sound on Woody Allen movies. Now, I think the same thing is going to happen again with 3D... and quite frankly, I don't need to see or hear Woody Allen in 3D or surround sound.
Jerry Bruckheimer was recently asked if the Prince of Persia movie or the next Pirates of the Carribean would be in 3D and he responded that 3D wouldn't make a damn bit of difference if the story wasn't compelling to the audience. That guy is one smart cookie. So, I for one am hoping that this trend for 3D movies dies a quick death. I don't want to pay extra for a gimmick that doesn't improve the theater going experience in the slightest way.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
RANT MODE ON!
Something about bad behavior and ignorance just gets my goat.
My sister, who has been having a rough time of it lately, was interviewed for the San Francisco Chronicle in an article about middle class families that have fallen on hard times. The gist of the article was that not enough is being done to help families and that our traditional safety nets have really large holes in them - holes large enough that even formerly well off lawyers are falling through them.
I read the article on my sister's facebook page and the comments were entirely from her friends and family showing support and offering prayers for her. What I didn't read was the article's comments on the SFGATE.com official website for the San Francisco Chronicle. My sister called to tell me about some of these comments.
1) If you weren't so fat, you'd have a job.
2) If you can't support your children, maybe you shouldn't have had them.
3) If you can't afford to live here, you should move to some place cheaper.
4) I saw a story about people like you on Dr. Phil and I hope the IRS investigates you to make sure you're not cheating the hard working tax payers.
5) I looked up your former employer on Google and their website is atrocious - no wonder you're out of work.
Aside from the arrogance and ignorance shown in these comments, the pure mean-spiritedness of them took my breath away. Has our society really gone so far into negative territory that we've forgotten our basic humanity? Is it really every person for themselves and to heck with the next guy?
Now, other than those people who comment on my blog, we all know that most commentators on other websites are complete idiots. They are ignorant. They can't spell. And they truly represent the lowest common denominator in this country.
Except that their behavior is spreading. It's in Congress now. It's on talk shows. It's all over the main stream news and media. The idea of civil discourse appears to be taking its final bows.
This kind of behavior is categorically un-Christian. Which isn't to say that all Christians refrain from this kind of speech. In fact, in many cases, so called Christians are the worst offenders. The difference being that Christians ought to be called on it when they say offensive things like this. When Pat Robertson says that Haiti deserved to be flattened by an earthquake or Glenn Beck says that Jesus wasn't about social justice, I expect Christians to stand up and say, "You guys need to pray about what you're saying first." That being said, I find that people who make these comments again and again are the first ones who are convinced of their own righteousness (whether Christian or not).
It is telling that these comments come from people reading a newspaper in a city that has only 4% regular church attendance. I know that of the remaining 96% there is probably a large portion that believe that church has nothing to offer them - that they'd much rather spend their time with groups of people that agree with everything they say and think 100% of the time and are never challenged to assume that maybe the world doesn't revolve around them. That's probably true of many communities.
My counter comments to these people would be - get out into the community and find people that are struggling and help them. After just one day of doing that, you will never make such ignorant and hurtful comments again. And if not, then I hope you never find out what life on the other side of those comments is like.
My sister, who has been having a rough time of it lately, was interviewed for the San Francisco Chronicle in an article about middle class families that have fallen on hard times. The gist of the article was that not enough is being done to help families and that our traditional safety nets have really large holes in them - holes large enough that even formerly well off lawyers are falling through them.
I read the article on my sister's facebook page and the comments were entirely from her friends and family showing support and offering prayers for her. What I didn't read was the article's comments on the SFGATE.com official website for the San Francisco Chronicle. My sister called to tell me about some of these comments.
1) If you weren't so fat, you'd have a job.
2) If you can't support your children, maybe you shouldn't have had them.
3) If you can't afford to live here, you should move to some place cheaper.
4) I saw a story about people like you on Dr. Phil and I hope the IRS investigates you to make sure you're not cheating the hard working tax payers.
5) I looked up your former employer on Google and their website is atrocious - no wonder you're out of work.
Aside from the arrogance and ignorance shown in these comments, the pure mean-spiritedness of them took my breath away. Has our society really gone so far into negative territory that we've forgotten our basic humanity? Is it really every person for themselves and to heck with the next guy?
Now, other than those people who comment on my blog, we all know that most commentators on other websites are complete idiots. They are ignorant. They can't spell. And they truly represent the lowest common denominator in this country.
Except that their behavior is spreading. It's in Congress now. It's on talk shows. It's all over the main stream news and media. The idea of civil discourse appears to be taking its final bows.
This kind of behavior is categorically un-Christian. Which isn't to say that all Christians refrain from this kind of speech. In fact, in many cases, so called Christians are the worst offenders. The difference being that Christians ought to be called on it when they say offensive things like this. When Pat Robertson says that Haiti deserved to be flattened by an earthquake or Glenn Beck says that Jesus wasn't about social justice, I expect Christians to stand up and say, "You guys need to pray about what you're saying first." That being said, I find that people who make these comments again and again are the first ones who are convinced of their own righteousness (whether Christian or not).
It is telling that these comments come from people reading a newspaper in a city that has only 4% regular church attendance. I know that of the remaining 96% there is probably a large portion that believe that church has nothing to offer them - that they'd much rather spend their time with groups of people that agree with everything they say and think 100% of the time and are never challenged to assume that maybe the world doesn't revolve around them. That's probably true of many communities.
My counter comments to these people would be - get out into the community and find people that are struggling and help them. After just one day of doing that, you will never make such ignorant and hurtful comments again. And if not, then I hope you never find out what life on the other side of those comments is like.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
For once the military has it right...
The most communist organization in the United States is its military. It is an organization that basically practices what it preaches - equality. Recruits come in with an equal chance to succeed based entirely on their merits. If they work hard and follow orders, study and advance, they can reach the highest ranks. But even if they don't, their daily work and sacrifice is recognized by the rest of the world as something they can be proud of. Does this sound like real life to you?
Consider this, while in the military they are fed, housed, and given unlimited access to free health care. For the most part, this is not something they have to pay for, but even if it does, it comes out of their paycheck and is never a burden to the soldiers, sailors, or marines. They are also given access to educational opportunities, usually at a much discounted rate.
Their job is considered so important that every day issues like health care and food and housing should not be a burden to them. As long as they continue to do the work, they have job security and life security.
Why can't the rest of the country get it right? Why must we create rules and regulations that are designed to give everyone access to all the basic things they need to succeed and then overburden them with unrealistic budgets and overwhelming red tape? Either we think these things are important for all citizens to have, or we don't. And if we do, then we should create a system that works for everyone with as little fuss as possible.
I'm not talking about free rides. I'm not talking about hand outs. I'm talking about people being able to go to work in whatever field they want while not having to worry about food, housing, and health care. Remove those three worries from life and imagine what you could accomplish.
Or we could continue to have a system that supports those with money while burdening those without regardless of how hard someone works or tries to make a living for themselves.
I for one know where I stand on this issue. And I'm not impressed with Congress or the President right now. I know where they want to stand on the issue, but they haven't got it done yet.
Consider this, while in the military they are fed, housed, and given unlimited access to free health care. For the most part, this is not something they have to pay for, but even if it does, it comes out of their paycheck and is never a burden to the soldiers, sailors, or marines. They are also given access to educational opportunities, usually at a much discounted rate.
Their job is considered so important that every day issues like health care and food and housing should not be a burden to them. As long as they continue to do the work, they have job security and life security.
Why can't the rest of the country get it right? Why must we create rules and regulations that are designed to give everyone access to all the basic things they need to succeed and then overburden them with unrealistic budgets and overwhelming red tape? Either we think these things are important for all citizens to have, or we don't. And if we do, then we should create a system that works for everyone with as little fuss as possible.
I'm not talking about free rides. I'm not talking about hand outs. I'm talking about people being able to go to work in whatever field they want while not having to worry about food, housing, and health care. Remove those three worries from life and imagine what you could accomplish.
Or we could continue to have a system that supports those with money while burdening those without regardless of how hard someone works or tries to make a living for themselves.
I for one know where I stand on this issue. And I'm not impressed with Congress or the President right now. I know where they want to stand on the issue, but they haven't got it done yet.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
March Sadness
In the midst of all the Hoopla and pomp and circumstance surrounding this year's NCAA basketball tournament, there is a little ray of sadness. Last night I was informed that my uncle's cancer had spread and that he probably won't survive the weekend.
Uncle Keith has been a basketball fan since before I was born. For more than forty years, he and my Dad kept stats for the University of San Francisco. My lasting memory of my Uncle is visiting his home and seeing stats and scorecards littering every available nook and cranny of his home. He kept stats for USF and for fun, he kept stats of everyone else as well. In the day before the internet, my Uncle was a font of statistical information about any team and any player.
I'd like to say that my love of basketball comes from him, but it doesn't. It wasn't until I was in college and met my roommate, Russ, who had played for the University of Idaho and who even now coaches high school basketball, that I became a fan of the game. I could never dribble the ball, not even now, and so, I never saw any reason to enjoy a sport where I could not do even the most mundane task. But Russ opened my eyes to the game, showed me the rules and the strategy and the excitement, and I've been hooked ever since.
In the last seven years, or so, ever since my Uncle was first diagnosed with cancer, I've been helping keep the stats at USF. About halfway through last season, my Uncle finally benched himself as the chemo made it impossible for him to concentrate on the game enough to make the correct calls. I took over for him and continued through the first half of this season. He continued to come to the games even when he wasn't feeling well and he always wanted a copy of the stats when the game was done for his file.
So as the rest of the basketball world sits down today to watch Cinderellas and upsets and underdogs and hoops madness of all types, I will be watching as well and remembering my Uncle and all the ways that he has affected my life.
And as for next year, if my Uncle has his say in Heaven, expect USF to go all the way.
Uncle Keith has been a basketball fan since before I was born. For more than forty years, he and my Dad kept stats for the University of San Francisco. My lasting memory of my Uncle is visiting his home and seeing stats and scorecards littering every available nook and cranny of his home. He kept stats for USF and for fun, he kept stats of everyone else as well. In the day before the internet, my Uncle was a font of statistical information about any team and any player.
I'd like to say that my love of basketball comes from him, but it doesn't. It wasn't until I was in college and met my roommate, Russ, who had played for the University of Idaho and who even now coaches high school basketball, that I became a fan of the game. I could never dribble the ball, not even now, and so, I never saw any reason to enjoy a sport where I could not do even the most mundane task. But Russ opened my eyes to the game, showed me the rules and the strategy and the excitement, and I've been hooked ever since.
In the last seven years, or so, ever since my Uncle was first diagnosed with cancer, I've been helping keep the stats at USF. About halfway through last season, my Uncle finally benched himself as the chemo made it impossible for him to concentrate on the game enough to make the correct calls. I took over for him and continued through the first half of this season. He continued to come to the games even when he wasn't feeling well and he always wanted a copy of the stats when the game was done for his file.
So as the rest of the basketball world sits down today to watch Cinderellas and upsets and underdogs and hoops madness of all types, I will be watching as well and remembering my Uncle and all the ways that he has affected my life.
And as for next year, if my Uncle has his say in Heaven, expect USF to go all the way.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
The Adventure Chronicles (1983 - 2010)
When I returned from Kenya my first thoughts turned to this old relic of a website. I thought of how I would really remodel it and spruce it up. I thought of new content and new web dohickeys and all sorts of bells and whistles. And I thought of the fact that I'd be the only one working on it and the only one who visited it. It was a pipe dream. It was a nice pipe dream, but it was still a pipe dream.
Quite frankly, there are more important things to do than to resucitate an old pipe dream.
And so, when I came home yesterday and found a letter from my internet provider telling me that The Adventure Chronicles website's credit card had expired and that they needed a new form of payment, it occurred to me that this money could be better spent elsewhere. Keeping an aging dream on life support requires money and money is something I'm desperately short of right now.
So quietly, at 7:30 this morning, I pulled the plug. The Adventure Chronicles slipped away peacefully. It did not die in rancor or hurt feelings. It simply went to that place where all dreams go to die, to be remembered fondly from time to time, but to have no existence beyond that.
May it rest in peace.
Quite frankly, there are more important things to do than to resucitate an old pipe dream.
And so, when I came home yesterday and found a letter from my internet provider telling me that The Adventure Chronicles website's credit card had expired and that they needed a new form of payment, it occurred to me that this money could be better spent elsewhere. Keeping an aging dream on life support requires money and money is something I'm desperately short of right now.
So quietly, at 7:30 this morning, I pulled the plug. The Adventure Chronicles slipped away peacefully. It did not die in rancor or hurt feelings. It simply went to that place where all dreams go to die, to be remembered fondly from time to time, but to have no existence beyond that.
May it rest in peace.
Friday, March 05, 2010
We Can Rebuild Him...
Kenyan food was generally quite good and tasty... but... it was also monochromatic. I'm not putting down their cuisine, but it was rather one shaded. It consisted of rice, mashed potatoes with either corn, beans, or banana mixed in, fresh vegetables (maize, cabbage, or carrots were in season), sometimes a beef stew that was heavy on potatoes, carrots, peas and a little beef, and sometimes chicken - usually boiled. They also served a heavy flat bread called Chipoti that for all intents and purposes was Naan. It was good food and filling. And it was the same. Everywhere we went. It was the same menu. Over and over and over again...
I never really understood how blessed we are as Americans until about the fifth day of rice, mashed potatoes, chicken, etc... The abundant variety of food makes my stomach sing like a canary. As a result, the sameness of the food caused me to have a little stomach quirk. I can't really explain it, but it was like my stomach went on strike. Little particles of stomach acid circled my gut with picket signs reading, "Heck No, Please No Mo'!" I ate, grudgingly, rice and chicken and I loved the fresh vegetables. Really, on a good day, I was maybe consuming half the calories that I would at home. But, at the same time, I wasn't really hungry.
This had an obvious side benefit. I felt fitter and fitter as the days stretched on. In addition to not eating as much as I normally do, I was getting beaucoupe exercise. I didn't sit behind a desk once on the entire trip. I may not have been running or going to the gym, but I also wasn't watching TV and noodling around on Facebook. And all that Vitamin D exposure from the ever present sun meant I was getting plenty of vitamins. Beyond that, I was at altitude. So my lungs, while having to work harder to keep me breathing (especially on long, hot, hills), were basically getting super charged for normal sea level air.
The end result is that I feel absolutely wonderful. Lighter, cooler, faster... I feel like I'm 29 again. I know that eventually sea level will catch up with me. Gravity sucks, after all. But I figure that if I walk, then run, fast enough I can maybe keep that feeling a little longer than usual. I intend to take all that Kenyan suffering and put it to good use.
Now if I can only figure out how to make the vegetables taste as good here as they did there.
I never really understood how blessed we are as Americans until about the fifth day of rice, mashed potatoes, chicken, etc... The abundant variety of food makes my stomach sing like a canary. As a result, the sameness of the food caused me to have a little stomach quirk. I can't really explain it, but it was like my stomach went on strike. Little particles of stomach acid circled my gut with picket signs reading, "Heck No, Please No Mo'!" I ate, grudgingly, rice and chicken and I loved the fresh vegetables. Really, on a good day, I was maybe consuming half the calories that I would at home. But, at the same time, I wasn't really hungry.
This had an obvious side benefit. I felt fitter and fitter as the days stretched on. In addition to not eating as much as I normally do, I was getting beaucoupe exercise. I didn't sit behind a desk once on the entire trip. I may not have been running or going to the gym, but I also wasn't watching TV and noodling around on Facebook. And all that Vitamin D exposure from the ever present sun meant I was getting plenty of vitamins. Beyond that, I was at altitude. So my lungs, while having to work harder to keep me breathing (especially on long, hot, hills), were basically getting super charged for normal sea level air.
The end result is that I feel absolutely wonderful. Lighter, cooler, faster... I feel like I'm 29 again. I know that eventually sea level will catch up with me. Gravity sucks, after all. But I figure that if I walk, then run, fast enough I can maybe keep that feeling a little longer than usual. I intend to take all that Kenyan suffering and put it to good use.
Now if I can only figure out how to make the vegetables taste as good here as they did there.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Why Walt Disney World
As I've told people, Kenya was the most challenging and most rewarding adventure of my life - but it wasn't a vacation. At some point in the first week of the trip as the fatigue and hardship hit me particularly hard this fact became extremely evident to me. I knew that wherever I went next it was going to have to be a vacation spot, a place of rest and relaxation, and a restorative to my body, mind, and spirit.
Every four years for the past twelve, my family has traveled to Disney World - the ultimate playground of rich (and not so rich) Americans and people from around the world. A resort like no other, I have found Walt Disney World to be a place to relax and to enjoy the company of my extended family. Ironically, while not feeling homesick, it was Kenya that made me want to return to Walt Disney World. In a place where family means so much, I felt the poverty of not having my family with me. I decided that what I really wanted was a new opportunity to spend time with my family on vacation.
So in January of next year, I will travel to WDW one more time with my family and enjoy the companionship and the strengthening of familial bonds. I will embrace the quiet, the peace, the relaxation, the laughter, and the luxury. I might feel a little guilty about not spending that money and that time helping the less fortunate, but I will return from WDW feeling restored and ready to carry on.
And besides, my next trip after that will be a return to Kenya. But that's a subject for later...
Every four years for the past twelve, my family has traveled to Disney World - the ultimate playground of rich (and not so rich) Americans and people from around the world. A resort like no other, I have found Walt Disney World to be a place to relax and to enjoy the company of my extended family. Ironically, while not feeling homesick, it was Kenya that made me want to return to Walt Disney World. In a place where family means so much, I felt the poverty of not having my family with me. I decided that what I really wanted was a new opportunity to spend time with my family on vacation.
So in January of next year, I will travel to WDW one more time with my family and enjoy the companionship and the strengthening of familial bonds. I will embrace the quiet, the peace, the relaxation, the laughter, and the luxury. I might feel a little guilty about not spending that money and that time helping the less fortunate, but I will return from WDW feeling restored and ready to carry on.
And besides, my next trip after that will be a return to Kenya. But that's a subject for later...
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Skin Friends
Every once in a while it is my constitutional obligation to write one very strange and out there blog post. Consider my obligation fulfilled for this year...
I was sitting on the staircase enjoying the bright sunshine when the brunette came and sat on me. She was very lithe and supple and quite enjoyable, but just as I was starting to get friendly, she left.
I was rather disappointed, so I joined my friend and fellow youth leader Sherman in the marketplace to look for swiss cheese. All of the packages were open and I just wanted to find about 20 slices that were roughly the same size - but, of course, the most I could find were about five decent sized scraps. It was very frustrating. But as I went to the checkout stand to pay, I was met by one of two sisters who handed me a brand new smartphone/laptop thingamajig.
I opened it up and watched a helicopter shot of a car chase through what appeared to be a cliffside auto wrecking yard. When the angle changed, the car skidded to a halt outside a two story home and two women jumped out in full combat gear. They started firing their machine guns into the house which was countering with return fire. But one of the women ducked behind the car and then produced a rocket launcher which she fired into the upstairs of the house. After the requisite explosion, the two sisters told me to close the laptop and join them on the beach.
As I joined the two sisters on the beach they explained that the movie I had just watched was a plan of their attack on a rival equestrian school up the coast. It was more of a fantasy, of course, than a reality. But this coastal area wasn't big enough for two rival equestrian schools. They wanted to know if I would support their school by becoming skin friends with them - skin friends being something akin to being so close that you were practically the other person's skin, like blood brothers or some such.
That was, of course, when I woke up.
One interesting side effect of anti-malaria medication is that it gives you REALLY bizarre dreams. However, about three weeks before I started taking anti-malaria medication I had a not so bizarre dream. I can't remember all the details, but I woke up with one very clear understanding. God wants me to start making money. Now, I know that such a revelation sounds completely self-serving (not that I'm against that ;) but the implication of the dream seemed rather profound to me.
First, the implication was that I was somehow preventing myself from making money - that I was somehow holding myself back from earning my maximum potential cash flow. I had to think about that for a while and I discovered that it was probably true. As much I grew up wanting to be a millionaire by the time I was 21 (I'm a little off the mark), I've never seen the acquisition of money as a goal unto itself. The million bucks was supposed to be a side effect of my fame and writing talent. So, I admit to worrying about the means of acquiring wealth without worrying about the actual wealth creation aspect. Or in other words, I worked on writing stories, not on selling stories.
Second, the implication was that I somehow equated having money with being, well, unchristian. I'm not entirely sure that was my thinking. It was probably more along the lines that those who were wealthy were that way because of un-christian acts - that the acquisition of wealth in and of itself was greed, pure and simple. Hence the idea that working hard was its own reward and if I made money doing it then that was great as well, but working strictly to make money was somehow impure.
You would think that with a revelation like that from God in a dream, I'd have jumped up and down and cried out, "Party! Party! Party!" But that wasn't the case. The revelation shocked me. Why does God want me to make money? Maybe it was just a dream after all.
Well, my skin friends, the answer is fairly clear to me after Kenya. There are things I want to do and things I need to do and they all require money - more money than I have and more money than I can possibly ever make. The time for being spiritually nourished by my poverty is at an end. God now trusts me with His resources and He expects me to go out and get a fair share and then distribute it to the less fortunate.
Some dreams are just crazy. Some dreams are calls to action. The hardest part is knowing which is which.
P.S. If you know where I can find 20 slices of swiss cheese roughly the same size, please let me know. ;)
I was sitting on the staircase enjoying the bright sunshine when the brunette came and sat on me. She was very lithe and supple and quite enjoyable, but just as I was starting to get friendly, she left.
I was rather disappointed, so I joined my friend and fellow youth leader Sherman in the marketplace to look for swiss cheese. All of the packages were open and I just wanted to find about 20 slices that were roughly the same size - but, of course, the most I could find were about five decent sized scraps. It was very frustrating. But as I went to the checkout stand to pay, I was met by one of two sisters who handed me a brand new smartphone/laptop thingamajig.
I opened it up and watched a helicopter shot of a car chase through what appeared to be a cliffside auto wrecking yard. When the angle changed, the car skidded to a halt outside a two story home and two women jumped out in full combat gear. They started firing their machine guns into the house which was countering with return fire. But one of the women ducked behind the car and then produced a rocket launcher which she fired into the upstairs of the house. After the requisite explosion, the two sisters told me to close the laptop and join them on the beach.
As I joined the two sisters on the beach they explained that the movie I had just watched was a plan of their attack on a rival equestrian school up the coast. It was more of a fantasy, of course, than a reality. But this coastal area wasn't big enough for two rival equestrian schools. They wanted to know if I would support their school by becoming skin friends with them - skin friends being something akin to being so close that you were practically the other person's skin, like blood brothers or some such.
That was, of course, when I woke up.
One interesting side effect of anti-malaria medication is that it gives you REALLY bizarre dreams. However, about three weeks before I started taking anti-malaria medication I had a not so bizarre dream. I can't remember all the details, but I woke up with one very clear understanding. God wants me to start making money. Now, I know that such a revelation sounds completely self-serving (not that I'm against that ;) but the implication of the dream seemed rather profound to me.
First, the implication was that I was somehow preventing myself from making money - that I was somehow holding myself back from earning my maximum potential cash flow. I had to think about that for a while and I discovered that it was probably true. As much I grew up wanting to be a millionaire by the time I was 21 (I'm a little off the mark), I've never seen the acquisition of money as a goal unto itself. The million bucks was supposed to be a side effect of my fame and writing talent. So, I admit to worrying about the means of acquiring wealth without worrying about the actual wealth creation aspect. Or in other words, I worked on writing stories, not on selling stories.
Second, the implication was that I somehow equated having money with being, well, unchristian. I'm not entirely sure that was my thinking. It was probably more along the lines that those who were wealthy were that way because of un-christian acts - that the acquisition of wealth in and of itself was greed, pure and simple. Hence the idea that working hard was its own reward and if I made money doing it then that was great as well, but working strictly to make money was somehow impure.
You would think that with a revelation like that from God in a dream, I'd have jumped up and down and cried out, "Party! Party! Party!" But that wasn't the case. The revelation shocked me. Why does God want me to make money? Maybe it was just a dream after all.
Well, my skin friends, the answer is fairly clear to me after Kenya. There are things I want to do and things I need to do and they all require money - more money than I have and more money than I can possibly ever make. The time for being spiritually nourished by my poverty is at an end. God now trusts me with His resources and He expects me to go out and get a fair share and then distribute it to the less fortunate.
Some dreams are just crazy. Some dreams are calls to action. The hardest part is knowing which is which.
P.S. If you know where I can find 20 slices of swiss cheese roughly the same size, please let me know. ;)
Monday, March 01, 2010
Where The Streets Have No Names
How could I not be changed by Kenya? If the point of a story is to take a character stuck in a rut of his life and through adversity and challenge bring that character to a new point in his life, then Kenya is the story of my character. I have been transformed in ways that I have not yet had a time to fathom. I was challenged. I struggled. I faced adversity and overcame it. And I was brought to a new point in my life.
About ten days ago, I was in the passenger seat of an old beat up Toyota truck. The truck had been driving down a dirt and mud creased road for nearly half an hour by that point. We were passing people walking to work, donkeys, goats, sheep, and others on the side of the road, fourteen passenger Matatu's whizzing by on the hard packed road looking for passengers, and a couple of small marketplaces with no names. It occured to me that I had gone so far off the beaten path that I was no longer visible on any map. I was literally in a place where the streets, and towns, had no names - except those known to the locals.
I should have been panicked. I should have been concerned. In my life I have sought to be constantly surrounded by things that I can control. I have a car that can take me where I want to go. I have a home filled with things to give me comfort. I have a job so that I can afford to buy the food that I want and the goods that I need. My life has been shaped and defined by my desires. I like to know where I am. I like to know where I am going. And I like to know how I'm going to get there. But, here I was, in the middle of nowhere, going who knew where, and not having any idea how I was going to get there or what was going to happen when I arrived. That uneasiness of the uncertainty of life defined Kenya to me because it made one thing abundantly clear and necessary - I had no control over anything except my faith in God.
Faith in God in a place like Kenya is as necessary as water or air or good sunscreen. Its not something taken for granted. Its not something you can turn on or off as needed. It is palpable. It is ever present. It is required. In Kenya, my faith wasn't restored - it was defined. It was bolstered. It was strengthened. It became something tangible to me, something real. It was like owning a rain coat your entire life and then suddenly encountering rain after 40 years.
I will talk more of Kenya as I process more of it, but for now I just wanted you to know that from now on part of me will always be on that dusty road watching the scenery going by and reveling in the knowledge that I have no control, but faith will see me to my next destination.
About ten days ago, I was in the passenger seat of an old beat up Toyota truck. The truck had been driving down a dirt and mud creased road for nearly half an hour by that point. We were passing people walking to work, donkeys, goats, sheep, and others on the side of the road, fourteen passenger Matatu's whizzing by on the hard packed road looking for passengers, and a couple of small marketplaces with no names. It occured to me that I had gone so far off the beaten path that I was no longer visible on any map. I was literally in a place where the streets, and towns, had no names - except those known to the locals.
I should have been panicked. I should have been concerned. In my life I have sought to be constantly surrounded by things that I can control. I have a car that can take me where I want to go. I have a home filled with things to give me comfort. I have a job so that I can afford to buy the food that I want and the goods that I need. My life has been shaped and defined by my desires. I like to know where I am. I like to know where I am going. And I like to know how I'm going to get there. But, here I was, in the middle of nowhere, going who knew where, and not having any idea how I was going to get there or what was going to happen when I arrived. That uneasiness of the uncertainty of life defined Kenya to me because it made one thing abundantly clear and necessary - I had no control over anything except my faith in God.
Faith in God in a place like Kenya is as necessary as water or air or good sunscreen. Its not something taken for granted. Its not something you can turn on or off as needed. It is palpable. It is ever present. It is required. In Kenya, my faith wasn't restored - it was defined. It was bolstered. It was strengthened. It became something tangible to me, something real. It was like owning a rain coat your entire life and then suddenly encountering rain after 40 years.
I will talk more of Kenya as I process more of it, but for now I just wanted you to know that from now on part of me will always be on that dusty road watching the scenery going by and reveling in the knowledge that I have no control, but faith will see me to my next destination.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)