IF by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

walk on the water, or swim in the sand?

Question:

Walk on the water?
Or swim in the sand?
Tough one isn’t it? Mainly because it doesn’t make sense. Neither of those things are possible. You can not walk on water, nor swim in sand. Perhaps the other way around, but no. the question is stupid. Well, you know when you see famous quotes that are short, and insightful? They make you think a lot without saying much? I’m trying that. So choose. Walk on the water, or swim in the sand? Those are really the only two options for your life. Now sand, although not the most reliable ground, can still be walked on. You can walk on the beach, stand in a little kids sandbox, and sit in a box of kitty litter. I have no idea why, but what you do is your business. But see, you can walk on sand. You can grab a handful of it, and build a castle, or throw it at someone. It’s tangible, you can feel it, hold it. But besides making sandcakes, what else is sand good for? You can sell it to preschools, and you can put it in a bottle for a souvenir, but what else? Can you build a house? Can you feed it to your pets? Can it sustain life? Not really. Sand is just that: sand. In life, you have things that are meaningful, and things that are sand. You have school and video games. Salad and triple chocolate chunk ice cream. Homework and backyard football. Now, these things that are sand, they’re fun, right? Just like building a sand castle, and burying your brother. They’re fun, but like sand, it doesn’t last. Eventually the tide comes in, and eventually your mom yells at you. It was fun while it lasted but, your just standing there. Just treading water, staying in the same spot, not progressing, not digressing, just playing in the sand. Now, on the other hand, you can walk on water. Something that is physically impossible, scientifically impossible, impossible in any way or any dimension. Unlike sand, you sink in the water. You can’t hold it, and make things with it, or let your cat use it as a restroom. But nonetheless, it is still vital. Everything on this planet that lives, needs water. It keeps us hydrated, keeps us healthy, it sustains life. When you have water, you have life. Water is useful, school, salad, and homework, right? And walking means that you are progressing towards a certain mark. The fridge, the mailbox, the car. But how can we walk on water? We look to God. When peter looked at Jesus, he could walk on water. He could do the impossible, and progress towards his mark, his point of interest, his Lord. When he looked to God, he could spread the water of life, he could do the impossible. Those are really the only two options in your life. Tread water in your fun, neither go forward or back, and be happy making houses in the sand. Or do the impossible. Walk where men fear, look nowhere but forwards, progress in usefulness, water the thirsty. Take your pick. Walk on the water, or swim in the sand?

Insane!!

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results each time. Not technically, but basically. If you do a gainer into a pool and break your nose, chances are you’ll break your nose again if you continue to do gainers. Which is why I do not do gainers. By this definition, I know many, many insane people. My dog. He runs when his leash is on, chokes himself, then does it again. My gerbil is constantly trying to chew through the same piece of hard plastic. Every night. My cat sits on my lap while I’m reading, and I throw her off. Then here she comes again. Now, this does not only apply to my unobservant house pets. This applies to all of mankind. Build a house on a beach, is slides off. Build a bigger house on the beach. It still slides off. What I’m trying to get at, is that men have been at this for years. Since the beginning of time, when cavemen froze to death for not inventing clothes. Mankind is certainly delusional. We buy nice cars. Very shiny, with loud engines and a bunch of cool parts that I don’t know the name of. But now look, my heart is mad at me cause my house costs less than my car. Okay, well lets climb the corporate extension ladder, and work weekends. Now we’ve bought a new house, it has shag carpet, a leather sofa, and I giant rotating bed. Now our heart is filled. Wait, that huge yard in the back… it’s missing a boat. Okay, now work late into the night. Okay, got a boat. Now your heart is mad at you. Why on earth would you buy a boat without buying j.crew boating attire?! Okay, bring your work home with you and work on it in the morning. There ya go, you have a nice car. A beautiful home. A giant boat. And stylish shorts that need a little more length. Is your heart happy? No, you have to top yourself don’t you? See, let me show you what happened. You had a longing. Even though you had a good running car. Even though your apartment was snug enough for you. Even though you could fish from the pier. Even though you had t-shirts from the half off section of wal-mart. You had a little longing that wanted to top itself. To continue to fill the hole with people, and things. We’re all born with a hole you see. One that only Jesus can fill. Now, before you read this and say “I’m already saved. Who cares.” finish it up. I am not talking to the unsaved people. I am talking to Christians. Yes, you may have been saved before you could go to school, but you still have a hole. See, this hole is easy to mistake for something else. A girl. Or a car. Or shag carpet. And every time that she leaves and breaks your heart, or the engine stalls, or a kid spills grape juice, you see it again. You catch a glimpse of that hole, and you think you need another girl. Or a better car. Or a darker carpet. But the hole was there for something else. You’ve been filling it your whole life with uselessness. And you never see it. Your chest aches, and you think it’s cause of the car payment. It took me years to figure out why that little hole was there, no matter what came and went. But now I found out. I’m sure it won’t be easy to keep empty for Him. I know it will be a struggle, and maybe the legend of Zelda will take over sometimes. But remember when you lose your car, or the game gets scratched, or your girl leaves you, the hole is there for a special reason. Put something special in there.

Community Kitchen Fun

The community kitchen is a fun place. Now, I understand how some people would assume the opposite. But if you go down there, and serve those people, just try not to smile. It’s impossible. The stories you hear, the people you see, it’s just a great experience. This morning my mother woke me up at an ungodly hour as usual. I sat up and took the better part of three minutes to realize where I was. Wiping away the crust that had accumulated around my eyeball was a difficult task at 5:57. Throwing on a shirt and just making it into my shoes, I fought the urge to sit down. And close my eyes… And go to sleep… I was unsuccessful. As I awoke the second time, my mother offered words of encouragement as she escorted me out the door and into the van. You would think that at this time of year that it would be hot in the morning. It’s hot in the day. It’s hot in the evening. It’s hot at night. It’s hot when you wake up from having that same scary, recurring dream at 1:43. But in the morning? Nooooo, let’s throw a curveball and slap everyone in the face when they try and go serve hungry people. Very discouraging. Anyway, I don’t remember the ride over there. But when we did get there, my mother began to greet the people on the street, the people on the sidewalk, the guy holding the door open, the guy making the grits, the guy that greeted her. I grunted a greeting as well, and I believe I made myself very clear. First order of business was turkey. Now, please realize that up until twenty minutes ago, I was unaware I would even be here this morning. I am tired, half awake, unsure which part of my dream was real last night, and moving very slow. So the head guy in charge naturally tells us to prep turkeys. Not to brag or anything, but I’m a pretty mean turkey prepper. I prepped about twenty turkeys one day, with very little help. But, as previously mentioned, this is not day. This is morning. So, of course being the muscular chap I am, I had to haul the turkey bags from the sink to their final resting place. There was a hole in the bag, and I hope that the blood did not stain the floor. I then proceeded to cut open the bags, exposing the cold, dead flesh of the hefty young foul. My mother than proceeded to reach into what used to be the neck, and remove a bag. I knew the contents of this bag, but was lucky enough never to have seen it for myself. But then, at that terrible moment, the bag tore, and I was staring at it. The neck, a slimy tube I could hardly believe could support a head, resembled a large, bloody, bloated, dead worm. The lungs and/or kidneys which looked just like lungs and/or kidneys, only smaller and covered in blood. He was obviously not a donor. And the heart. The poor little meaty thing that had kept blood running through this young turkey, had allowed him to gobble, to spread his tail feathers and attract ladies. To power his legs that obviously did him no good in escaping the hand/machine that had ended his life, and in his prime, no doubt, as the bag stated. It was really gross. We washed turkeys, held back bile, and removed the life-giving organs of these poor beasts. After that was done, and a long hand washing had ensued, I went to the front lines to serve toast. Now, the thing you should know is on the line, you are exposed to EVERYTHING. Comments: On your hair, smile, apron, and anything else they can see from the waist up. Questions: “you got sugar?”
“you got salt?”
“where‘s the milk?”
“what‘s your name”
“why is this burnt?”
“why don‘t you cook with sugar?”.
Complaints: “there‘s no sugar!”
“they started a fight!”
“I need to talk to Miss Vera!”
“this food is cold!”
“why don‘t you cook with sugar?!”
But, it is still enjoyable. Passing out bread to the patrons, hearing their life’s stories, and today, hearing multiple versions of how a building burned down. From what all I heard, this is what was believed to have happened: There was a short, skinny white guy who no one knew the name of. He was drunk, and high, and decided to light a pile of clothes on fire for an unknown reason. There also happened to be spray paint cans in the building, along with quite a few more highly flammable objects. These exploded under the heat, and the building went down quite quickly. When the police arrived, they located the perpetrator. They then used night sticks to beat him to death, after which the ambulance workers used the defibrillator to bring the poor soul back to life, only to incarcerate him afterwards. Last night was quite a night I suppose. After we had served nigh a hundred and fifty patrons, I grabbed a granola bar, a soda, and headed home. My mother was skeptical of the true story of the building fire, but I really believe it. A skinny white guy. Blew it up. Then got beat to death. And brought back to life. Like law and order. I was drifting away on the way home, and when I got back I crawled right back into bed and picked up where I left off. The funny thing is, I’m not entirely sure what has actually happened today, and what was a dream… I guess I’ll ask the blue elephant that’s doing the spelling check for me.

Wisdom

What is wisdom? We hear people tell us how wise we are when we give advice. Or what a wise decision fast food restaurants made by creating a dollar menu. But what is real wisdom? In our world today, people get confused between being smart, and being wise. There are many, many smart people in this world. But considerably less wise people. The dictionary on my word processor defines smart as “showing intelligence and mental alertness.” Wise, on the other hand is defined: “able to make sensible decisions and judgments on the basis of personal knowledge and experience. Sensible, learned and shrewd.”
Now, besides the fact that this definition is considerably longer and with larger words, what’s the difference? The difference: I can sit up straight in class, listen politely, study hard and earn a good grade. I can follow the rules of success, earn a large salary, support my family, and have a good life. Or, I can sit up straight in class, listen politely, study hard and earn a good grade. I can discern when I should purchase a large yacht, and when I should pay tithe. I can determine when my children need to hear the score of the Sunday football game, and when they need to hear the word of God. I can sit up straight in church, and instead of smiling politely, I can have a determined frown on my face, writing down what the preacher says and studying over it. Being smart is knowing what the world knows. Being smart is taking the world’s words and teachings, and learning them. Being wise is knowing what God knows. Taking His words, and His teachings, and learning of Him. Anyone can be smart. Anyone can be wise. You just have to choose which one to be.

$_$

So here is a twenty dollar bill. Nice and crisp, just got it from the gas station, okay? So I know you want this, right? You could buy a lot of candy with it, or some movie tickets, or whatever you want, as long as it’s under twenty bucks. BUT, what if I decided to crumple it up? Yeah, not nice and crisp, now it looks like its been stuck in my wallet for a year. It’s not nice looking, and since I didn’t mash my hands today, a little bit dirty. But you still want it? Okay, okay, I’m gonna do something bad to it. Throw it down, step on it, man, I’m gonna rub dirt on it and everything. NOW look. Dirty, messed up, nasty, and looking like it went through WWII. None of you can POSSIBLY want this now, right? I mean, look, you can’t even tell that it’s a twenty anymore. But what’s that? It still IS a twenty? You’re telling me that even though it’s dirty, and nasty looking, it’s still worth the same amount to you? Wow. Maybe that’s how God feels, right? Even though you look totally different from what you started out as, and you’re all messed up, He still knows how much you’re worth. He can still use you to buy twenty dollars worth of stuff. You are still valuable. Pretty neat.

Art

Art. Mankind’s greatest achievement. Cities have been built, governments created, kingdoms ruled, and worlds conquered. And yet, despite the changes man has sustained, the overthrowing, the usurpation, the destruction, art has lived on. Not just in ancient pots buried in the ground, or limbless statues excavated. No, art has lived on through man. It is our greatest gift, our most wonderful aspect, our very essence. Art has spoken through centuries, through movement, through sound, paint, sculpting, building, designing, and composition. Art is pure, unadulterated, uncontaminated thought. Art can say what we cannot, it expresses our souls, and gives us words to speak. When man feels as he never has before, mere words, the insufficient language of humans, cannot speak to others. When we are at a loss for words, when our being has been caught up in our throats, when our essence cries out to others, that is when man becomes art. When paints, and words, paper and pens, instruments and chisels, that is when they give way to the tools of our souls. Each man is different, so each expression is different. Some may speak their pain and hurt with notes and keys. Some may yell at the world with their vivid colors. Some give us deeper insight with their sculpting, and some their happiness with construction. Inside each of us are unspoken words, screaming to get out. Telling you to let them fly, let them show the world what they are. They are inside all of us, our unspoken hurt, anger, happiness, pain and fear. Our very essence wants to escape, and God has given us a venue. Art is man’s greatest achievement, and God’s wonderful gift. Art is our lives.

A Post About....hmm. Nevermind.

Have you ever tried to catch a thought? It’s hard. More fleeting than a sparrow, quicker than a fish, and all the other nature examples I could use. And the thing is, most times you don’t realize that is has passed you by. Until someone asks you something, and expects you to know the answer. Then you realize that it’s gone. Were you not paying attention? Or was there a more urgent matter that occupied that section of muscle and grey matter you call your brain? Did you forget because is was unimportant? Or you didn’t like what you heard? Or is your subconscious in cahoots with the aliens trying to take over our minds? The funny thing is, you can’t remember which excuse you used! You can’t remember if you genuinely forgot, or if a fly buzzing by seemed more interesting than what that person was saying. Don’t laugh, there are a lot of people who have paralyzed their friends before. Maybe for some, catching a thought is like flipping to a page. Oh, it may take a little bit to get there, but then bam! There you are, looking at what you’ve learned, remembering the details as you go on, and realizing that it’s all coming back to you now. Like a thug with a dirty secret in a back ally… Eh, maybe I should stick to the nature analogies. Hey, for some it’s like looking in a file cabinet. A little unorganized at times, and maybe every once in awhile you lose something. But you get it after awhile, and whip the file out like a cop, mug shot, hometown, and favorite ice cream flavor. Yes, it’s official, the analogies are getting worse. But sometimes, it’s like looking into an abyss. Not a nice one either. The kinds on scary movies with no light and the wails of the dead emanating forth. Yes, your sure that it was dumped here. Well, pretty sure, it’s just a little difficult to find. Maybe instead of trying to find it in the dark, you could just ask again. Because, you may have been a little distracted. Yeah, just ask again. Wait, you dropped it. Once more. Uh huh, got it… just to double check annnnnnndddd… yes. Ok, there ya go. Some people are only a wee upset, so you’re good. Just don’t drop it, cause you may not… now look what you’ve done! Ugh. Good luck!!