My Week Thus Far

Sunday evening after work I packed up my car with clothing, computer, brother and sister, and we all headed down to Oregon to visit our oldest brother, along with our nieces and nephews. They were of course asleep when we got there, but we did have some fun with Ellery before heading to bed.

Monday morning I was greated with the smiling face of a blonde two year old, who was quickly followed by her older sister and younger brother. The two year old is Leah, the oldest is Naomi, with Isaiah being the youngest. They were of course a little shy to begin with, after all we weren't there when they went to bed, and now we were, but they quickly got over that and we began playing. The day wasn't all fun and games however, for we had to go split and stack wood so that my brother and his family wouldn't freeze during the winter. In the evening there was of course more playing with kids, followed by a rousing game of Risk when they went to bed.

Tuesday was much the same, with more playing with cute kids, more work, and more Risk. Wednesday brought us to our last day, with a very sad Naomi and Leah, and a rather oblivious Isaiah(he is only a few months old after all). I decided to end this day with a run, from which I just returned. Now before you go thinking that I am now a running enthusist, I must warn you that I am far from it. In fact there is only one thing about running that I enjoy, it occupies my mind. While running about %80 of my mind is focused on forcing air into my gasping lungs, about %19.8 is focused on not letting my legs collapse, leaving only about %.2 for the thousands of thoughts trupeting through my mind tonight, and after 20-30 seconds this %.2 is mainly focused on the thought, "I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die." So at best I enjoy the fact that running gives me a short reprive.

Well, I think I have rambled on long enough, and I think I hear my journal calling, so I will wish that the end of all of your's week is as good as the beginning of mine.

The Parable of the Lost Son

"Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men." Luke 16:18+19

I've been thinking a lot lately about the parable of the Prodigal Son, the story that has brought hope to billions over the past two thousand years. Why doesn't it do the same for me?

I can see myself on that road, walking in my raged clothes and tattered shoes to my father's house. I see the house in the distance and suddenly a man appears running towards me. After a few moments I can tell it's my father, the one I left, the one that I forsook. I think he is angry at first, and rightfully so, but then I see the love and joy lighting up his face. When I see that I stop dead in my tracks unable to move. He reaches me and throws his arms around me, bringing me close. I start saying what I had prepared earlier, but I can't get it out between the sobs. He then holds me at arms length so he can look at my face. He attempts to wipe some of the dirt off of me, and that's when I look into his eyes, those eyes that are filled with love, forgiveness, and genuine joy over my return, not with the hate, anger, disappointment that I so richly deserve. I can't take it anymore, I break from my father's warm embrace and run. Not towards the house, but away from it. Away from my father, away from his love, his forgiveness. I can hear him calling for me, pleading that I come back, that all is forgiven, that he loves me, he wants me near him, but that just makes me run all the faster.

I have felt like crap for quite some time now, wanting desperately to go back to God, but not being able to go. It isn't pride. I know I am nothing, I know that I will never be able to come close to God, nor can I in anyway make myself desirable towards God. It is more like shame. My favorite verse, actually at the top of my blog, says that Jesus isn't ashamed to call me His brother, but I know that He should be. I was given this gift from God, forgiveness, communion with Him, being able to be called a child of the creator of the universe, and I turn my back on it and I forsake God, and this is hardly the first time. Do I just go back and I act like nothing happened? I know God forgets, but I haven't, I can't.

Space, the Final Frontier

I'm starting to realize that I am really a geek. I know that I used to be a geek, one need only look around my room to discover that, with my Star Trek and Star Wars posters, collection of Star Trek movies and seasons, along with my cabinet full of Star Trek paraphernalia, it is no doubt that I at least used to be a geek. And indeed I was. I my book genre of choice was fantasy, and not the socially acceptable fantasy of the Lord of the Rings, not, I'm talking the kind with dragons, and magic, and everything. I also did quite a bit of roll-playing games, not the ones of the computer, the real deal with dice and everything. I even had a C.D. of conversational Klingon. But I had thought I was getting better, maturing you might say, especially this past year where I watched very little sci-fi, and read no fantasy. However, if there was any doubt about my geekiness, this past weekend ended it.

Friday night after work I spent nearly 4 hours doing a role playing game with a couple of friends, staying up until almost 1. Saturday, during my lunch break, I read a fantasy book called, "Sunrunner's Fire" book three of the "Dragon Prince" trilogy(and yes, I've read the other two already this summer). When I got home I spend nearly three hours watching sci-fi shows, starting with Stargate Atlantis, moving to Battlestar Galatica, and finishing with Stargate SG-1. If that wasn't enough, I am planning on watching the 4400 after posting this, another sci-fi show in the USA network. The geekiness I thought was dying is certainly alive and kicking. I'm not sure why it felt like it was dying at college, perhaps it was just resting for a while.

Now, before you think of me as a complete lost cause, I have made steps to improve my coolness factor. I am starting to like beer more and more, and have actually found one that I truly like. I have also bought several different types of beer from the store, in an attempt to find other kinds that I like. I certainly hope the beer commercials are right, and beer really will make me cooler. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to do some studying before my show, the grammatical structure of Klingon is quite difficult.