I have been listening to a good amount of Coldplay lately. I find their music to be very soothing and at the same time mentally stimulating. What is most interesting is that tt is not the lyrics that stimulate me, but the sound and musical intricacies are what send me into a frenzy of thought. I love it. Anyway, this is just a prelude to my thoughts. I just wanted to establish from where the thought was coming.
It is truly amazing the difference one day makes. Yesterday was horrible. I woke up very sick with about all the symptoms you can imagine. It was colder than it had been in weeks and worst of all, I had to be at work by ten. I simply said to myself, "I can do this. I can make it through this day and get something good out of it." I made it thorugh the day and it was pretty rough.
Today, I woke up feeling much better and I looked outside to see it was sunny and about 50 degrees. I also did not have to work. I was just thinking about how much difference one day makes. It's nothing profound or new. I am just happy to be feeling better and grateful to God for every day he gives me, both the bad and the good days. We all need to appreciate every day, no matter what happens. Every day is a gift from God. Sometimes days are painful. Sometimes days are full of joy. But no matter what, we can learn something from it all. I hope everyone can learn to take each day as a new opportunity to learn something and become a better person. It does not work that way for me every day, but I sure am trying.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Raindrops
Outside I hear the raindrops. It is a simple early spring (well I can keep telling myself it is) rain that most people are not hearing right now. Granted, most people are not awake at three o'clock in the morning. It really is funny to listen to the silence of the night, and then all at once to hear thousands upon thousands of raindrops hitting pavement, grass, shingles, puddles, and metal all at once. One moment it is quiet, and the next a noisy rain is bombarding everything.
We can sometimes go weeks without rain. It comes and goes as it pleases. This does not please farmers in the summertime. Other times rain is all day every day. Sometimes it comes one day and is done the next, only to return a day later. If anything can be certain, rain is certainly unpredictable. I find it interesting the feelings that rain brings out in us. If we are deprived of it for a long period of time, we are relieved to see it. Often we might charge out into it to fully enjoy it and experience it. It feels so good when we have been given nothing but dry cloudless days. But then there are other times when it just keeps raining, and we just get sick of it. We stay inside the house all day. When we do go outside, we unveil our trusty umbrella to shield us from the wet drops. We complain about it and forget all about how it felt when the days were dry and hot from the sun.
We see this gift that we once enjoyed as now a curse. We see it as a burden or an annoying relative. We do not want this rain anymore. It can go bother someone else. Rain is always interpreted differently depending on the circumstances upon which we receive it.
It just stopped raining now. It was here and gone in a matter of maybe fifteen minutes. Sometimes that is all we get. Sometimes that is just enough for the plants to get by. Sometimes the plants do not quite make it. But the rain comes and goes in its random cycle just as it always has done. Rain washes away the dirt and grime left behind by nasty dry days and sweaty humid nights. It reminds us all that this world gets dirty and needs to be cleaned. It reminds us that we must remain clean as well. It does not mean we will always be clean. We will get dirty, but that is why there is always more rain.
When I see it raining now, my mind always, for whatever reason, goes to the song "Love Reign O'er Me" by The Who. If you have not heard the song, I encourage you to look it up and listen to it any way you can, whether that be through YouTube or iTunes or whatever you may use. It is a fantastic song that is truly sung with passion. I think if you hear this song, and think about it, you will see that:
Rain is like Love.
Rain is like Grace.
Rain is a gift from God.
We can sometimes go weeks without rain. It comes and goes as it pleases. This does not please farmers in the summertime. Other times rain is all day every day. Sometimes it comes one day and is done the next, only to return a day later. If anything can be certain, rain is certainly unpredictable. I find it interesting the feelings that rain brings out in us. If we are deprived of it for a long period of time, we are relieved to see it. Often we might charge out into it to fully enjoy it and experience it. It feels so good when we have been given nothing but dry cloudless days. But then there are other times when it just keeps raining, and we just get sick of it. We stay inside the house all day. When we do go outside, we unveil our trusty umbrella to shield us from the wet drops. We complain about it and forget all about how it felt when the days were dry and hot from the sun.
We see this gift that we once enjoyed as now a curse. We see it as a burden or an annoying relative. We do not want this rain anymore. It can go bother someone else. Rain is always interpreted differently depending on the circumstances upon which we receive it.
It just stopped raining now. It was here and gone in a matter of maybe fifteen minutes. Sometimes that is all we get. Sometimes that is just enough for the plants to get by. Sometimes the plants do not quite make it. But the rain comes and goes in its random cycle just as it always has done. Rain washes away the dirt and grime left behind by nasty dry days and sweaty humid nights. It reminds us all that this world gets dirty and needs to be cleaned. It reminds us that we must remain clean as well. It does not mean we will always be clean. We will get dirty, but that is why there is always more rain.
When I see it raining now, my mind always, for whatever reason, goes to the song "Love Reign O'er Me" by The Who. If you have not heard the song, I encourage you to look it up and listen to it any way you can, whether that be through YouTube or iTunes or whatever you may use. It is a fantastic song that is truly sung with passion. I think if you hear this song, and think about it, you will see that:
Rain is like Love.
Rain is like Grace.
Rain is a gift from God.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Boy
I decided to be a little less traditional in my memories of MVNU.
The Boy
The boy let out a long sigh as he stepped out of the low lit classroom that had become his home from eleven thirty to two thirty every weekday for the last month. He did not know what to think about the time he had spent in the various buildings across the small campus. He had invested so many hours to the study of books for the purpose of learning for his own benefit. Numerous hours talking to irreplaceable friends and hearing their stories while sharing his own had been well spent. As he took one step at a time down the stairs, his shoes squeaked and it reminded him of childish days when he had come in from the rain to bother his mother with obnoxious sounds. He remembered being a child; how it felt to not have a care in the world of which to speak.
As he exited the double doors of the first floor he was greeted by a chilling breeze. He stepped out onto the snow that lay over a thin sheet of ice. He loved stepping on the untainted snowfall and cracking the ice below. It took him back to the days of childhood yet again. He looked out to see so many people walking alone, heads buried in their hoods or scarves or ski masks. There were so many good people here. There were so many people he was going to miss dearly. There were so many memories that snow alone brought to his mind. The first snow of freshaman year, sledding in eighteen inch weather, and snow ball fights all came to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to stay. He wanted to remain. But inside he knew his life lay on another path. He knew his calling was elsewhere. This did not mean he would never see these blessed souls again. It simply meant he may not see them in the body to which he had become so accustomed.
As he reached his apartment, he looked around inside and recalled evenings of fun playing games, crying because of women, and frustration from disagreements. So much emotion had been felt in such small square footage. So much love. Love between brothers, and even sisters. This love was something the boy had never known before he came to this place. He knew what love was supposed to be like from books he had read and movies that he had seen. But never until this place, had he encountered the powerful brotherly love that was anything but ordinary. Here, love felt like a free gift.
Here, love felt like a refreshing rain.
Here, love felt like a comforting hand.
Here, love felt as he knew it should.
Here, love compelled him to love in return.
Before, he knew the rules. Now, he knew the actions.
The boy wanted so badly to keep what he knew. He wanted to keep still and be comfortable, but the life of comfort was never for him. It would never be for him. He would find what he was truly meant to do, and he would do it. That was the plan anyway.
As he said his goodbyes to all his friends, he did not feel any pain. But then, after the last two bid him farewell, when he got in the car he started crying. He knew in an instant that it was not simply because of those two. It had finally hit him that all these people would be left behind. But then he was struck with great joy. He knew that he would see them again. He knew in his heart that this was not the end of the story, and he had no reason to let sadness overcome him. He would find joy. His joy came from somewhere no one else could touch. He held on to that joy. He was a man now, but no matter how old he got, he would always feel like a boy.
The Boy
The boy let out a long sigh as he stepped out of the low lit classroom that had become his home from eleven thirty to two thirty every weekday for the last month. He did not know what to think about the time he had spent in the various buildings across the small campus. He had invested so many hours to the study of books for the purpose of learning for his own benefit. Numerous hours talking to irreplaceable friends and hearing their stories while sharing his own had been well spent. As he took one step at a time down the stairs, his shoes squeaked and it reminded him of childish days when he had come in from the rain to bother his mother with obnoxious sounds. He remembered being a child; how it felt to not have a care in the world of which to speak.
As he exited the double doors of the first floor he was greeted by a chilling breeze. He stepped out onto the snow that lay over a thin sheet of ice. He loved stepping on the untainted snowfall and cracking the ice below. It took him back to the days of childhood yet again. He looked out to see so many people walking alone, heads buried in their hoods or scarves or ski masks. There were so many good people here. There were so many people he was going to miss dearly. There were so many memories that snow alone brought to his mind. The first snow of freshaman year, sledding in eighteen inch weather, and snow ball fights all came to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to stay. He wanted to remain. But inside he knew his life lay on another path. He knew his calling was elsewhere. This did not mean he would never see these blessed souls again. It simply meant he may not see them in the body to which he had become so accustomed.
As he reached his apartment, he looked around inside and recalled evenings of fun playing games, crying because of women, and frustration from disagreements. So much emotion had been felt in such small square footage. So much love. Love between brothers, and even sisters. This love was something the boy had never known before he came to this place. He knew what love was supposed to be like from books he had read and movies that he had seen. But never until this place, had he encountered the powerful brotherly love that was anything but ordinary. Here, love felt like a free gift.
Here, love felt like a refreshing rain.
Here, love felt like a comforting hand.
Here, love felt as he knew it should.
Here, love compelled him to love in return.
Before, he knew the rules. Now, he knew the actions.
The boy wanted so badly to keep what he knew. He wanted to keep still and be comfortable, but the life of comfort was never for him. It would never be for him. He would find what he was truly meant to do, and he would do it. That was the plan anyway.
As he said his goodbyes to all his friends, he did not feel any pain. But then, after the last two bid him farewell, when he got in the car he started crying. He knew in an instant that it was not simply because of those two. It had finally hit him that all these people would be left behind. But then he was struck with great joy. He knew that he would see them again. He knew in his heart that this was not the end of the story, and he had no reason to let sadness overcome him. He would find joy. His joy came from somewhere no one else could touch. He held on to that joy. He was a man now, but no matter how old he got, he would always feel like a boy.
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