La Rosa, Vol. 1: Chapter 3

“Murt, murt, murt, murt…” The sound of Mirjana’s alarm clock tore her from her sleep, and she couldn’t have been more thankful. “Ay de mi!” she said out loud to herself, “What a horrible dream!” She sat up, glad to be awake, and stretched. Her muscles were sore after the last few days of playing with the children, gardening, and helping with small repairs around the orphanage. Mirjana made her way down the hall to the bathroom, put toothpaste on her toothbrush, and happily hummed in relief to be awake from the nightmare.

But then, turning to look into the mirror, Mirjana froze in shock. Dark smudges ran across her chin and mouth. Nearly a whole minute passed as she stared in disbelief.

Finally, leaning in close to the mirror, she could see it was dirt on her face. Mirjana frantically turned on the water to wash away the soil, desperate to convince herself it was only a coincidence of some sort, that her nightmare was merely that. But when she bent over the sink to wash, she was met with another shock. A long, dark braid fell across her shoulder, intricately woven and adorned with sprigs of meadowsweet.

A shriek escaped Mirjana’s mouth and she to began rummaging through the drawers of the bathroom. “It can’t… It can’t be,” she stammered. Unable to find what she was looking for, she ran to the kitchen and pulled a pair of meat shears from the butcher’s block. In one quick motion, Mirjana lobbed off her braid and shuddered as she felt her hair unravel from its plaiting and brushing against her shoulders. With disbelief and confusion, she looked at her hands. In one she held the kitchen shears, and in the other her braid hung low, close to the ground.

“Quien esta en la cocina? No breakfast until morning prayers! Girls? Are you ignoring me?” The scolding of the orphanage’s matron startled Mirjana back into action. She was no doubt dressing for the day, pulling her steel wool hair back into a knot at the top of her head in her usual fashion. “It’s just me, Señora! Lo siento! I was just cleaning up,” Mirjana called back as she coiled up her braid and hid it under some rotting lettuce in the trashcan. She quickly washed the shears and returned them to the butcher’s block.

Back in her room, Mirjana paced the floor and ran her hands through her newly cropped hair. It was getting hard to breathe, and her head was starting to spin. “It can’t be. It just can’t be!” She sat at the edge of her bed and began to concentrate on her breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. “MJ, Are you okay? Estás enferma?” Mirjana looked up to see a pair of beautiful brown eyes peeking in through the cracked doorway. “You’re missing morning prayer,” the little girl continued with concern in her voice. “Gracias, mija. I’m fine. Just sleepy,” Mirjana unconvincingly tried to assure her. “Oh, your hair! You cut it all off? Por que?” the little girl asked. “I, um, I just needed a change. That’s all,” Mirjana replied, “Now, go finish prayers and eat. You’re going to need your energy today! We’re going to clean out the old shed and make it into a chicken coup.”

Read chapter two HERE and chapter one HERE.

La Rosa, Vol. 1: Chapter 2

“MJ, can you check under my bed for El Cucuy? I’m scared.” Although the little girl had only known her for a few days, she looked at Mirjana with love and adoration. “Ah, mija! El Cucuy isn’t real. Besides, don’t you know I’m gangster? I’d bust out my switchblade and make El Cucuy regret rolling up in my hood!” The little girl laughed, “You’re funny, MJ!” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m a riot,” Mirjana teased, “Now buenas noches, amiga. Morning prayers come early!” Structure was an important part of the orphanage’s program, and as a volunteer, it was her responsibility to uphold it.

El Cucuy may have not been hiding under the girl’s bed, but something else was lurking nearby that night. It watched through the orphanage’s windows as Mirjana tucked all twelve girls into bed, one at a time. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders as she bent down to kiss each child on the forehead. Beams of moonlight cast through the windows and shined against her locks like light reflecting on a black river. The creature yearned to run his long, gnarled fingers through it.

No one has ever seen the face of the El Somberón before, but centuries of legends told of his covet for girls such as Mirjana, catching his eye with her long, flowing hair. His origins are unknown, but new stories accumulate yearly of young women going missing, last seen wandering into the dark forest following a tall, withered man with a large brimmed hate hiding his face, carrying what looks to be a silver guitar on his back.

Unaware of El Somberón’s watchful eye upon her, and unfamiliar with the wives’ tales of his existence, Mirjana sleepily shuffled off to her own room with a heavy heart. She was already three days into her stay at the orphanage, with only four days left before she returned to the States. She had already grown so close to the girls, and she knew saying goodbye would be difficult. Too tired to dig through her toiletry bag for a hair tie, Mirjana climbed into bed and allowed her hair to spill across her pillows. The long day of hard volunteer work had exhausted her, and she quickly fell asleep.

It felt like she had been sleeping for hours when the music stirred her from her sleep. It wafted through the cracked bedroom window like fog. It was beautiful, unlike anything she had ever heard before, and it beckoned her. Not of her own volition, Mirjana climbed out of bed and followed the sound down the long corridor to the back entry of the orphanage.

Entranced, she wandered barefoot into the yard, passing through the children’s poorly maintained playground. Broken swings swayed ever so slightly in the night breeze, and the old wooden teeter-totter creaked as she past by. Had she not been completely intoxicated by the melody that called for her, she would have noticed herself traipsing through the meager garden she had helped the girls tend to the morning before.

The music led Mirjana into the dark, canopied forest beyond the orphanage’s yard until she came to a stream; barely a trickle after the summer’s drought.

Then, before her, a figure stood shrouded in darkness. El Somberón slowly emerged from the shadow of the tree he leaned against, and in the dim light Mirjana could see his inhumanness. His height alone was alarming. His long, gnarled fingers looked like the twisted branches of a tree as they nimbly strummed a silver lute that glittered in the moonlight. His face remained hidden by the large brim of his hat, but she could see a long, matted beard hanging down past the wreath of meadowsweet he wore around his neck.

His frightening appearance broke her trance and Mirjana opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a sound, the creature was suddenly by her side. In a blink of an eye, El Somberón reached into the earth and forced a fistful of dirt into her mouth. She gagged against the bitter taste and her eyes watered as she found herself completely immobile. “A mouthful of earth today, mi belleza, for one day, it is the earth that will swallow you.”

As the creature leaned in to smell her hair, she caught a glimpse of his twisted, decaying mouth. She closed her eyes and prayed he would kill her quickly. She could feel his breath against her neck, hot and rancid, as El Somberón moved to tower over her from behind. He ran his monstrous fingers through her dark locks with gentle finesse. “Ah, never cut. Just as I had hoped!” he said, excitedly. Mirjana held her breath in anticipation, expecting that he would hurt her any moment, crying to herself, “Mi Dios, llévame! Por favor!”

Read Vol. 1, Chapter 1 HERE.

La Rosa, Vol. 1: Chapter 1

"I sure do like that rose tattoo,” he said as he pointed to her chest suggestively. "It's a scar," she replied, tugging at her dress to hide the crimson mark. "What was his name again?" she wondered to herself, "He looks like an 'Eric.' Or maybe Jake? I guess it's probably best I don’t know. Easier that way." "You ain't even took one bite of your food yet, pretty thing," he said with a crooked smile as he scooted closer to her in the tiny diner booth. He pushed his greasy, dishwater blonde hair from his bloodshot eyes, breathing down on her with the distinct smell of cheap liquor on his breath. "Maybe we can get out of here and find something else that will... please your appetite. And I can take a better look at that tattoo." "Scar," she sighed, amazed at his total oblivion to her disgust of him. "Let's go then," she said in a soft voice, almost a whisper.

The clicking of her heels against the sidewalk and the shuffling of his feet as he staggered drunkenly behind her were the only sounds beyond the traffic. She could hear him mumble something as he followed her, turning down a dark, dank alley. She almost asked him to repeat himself, but hesitated. "No names. No talking. The less, the better," she reminded herself as she continued into the shadows, finally coming to a stop. The stench from a nearby dumpster turned her stomach, and she startled as a cat pounced out and scampered away.

"Here?" He asked, "Alright, well, whatever works for you!" He reached out and caressed her shoulder, leaning in close as he said, "Now how about that rose?" She flinched at his touch, but he didn't seem to notice. "It has thorns," she said, but he seemed just as unaware of her speaking as he was of her repulsion. "You’re cold as ice, baby! You sick or something? I'll get you warmed up in no time." Part of her wanted nothing more than to run away, but she knew she had no choice. She broke her stillness and slowly reached up to touch his face.

Just when her fingertips grazed his cheek, their eyes met. "W-w-what are you?" he asked. Her touch sent a chilling pulse through his body as her eyes lit up like pools of lightning. He struggled to break free from her hold, but he was overcome by weakness.

She lifted him from the ground like a rag doll, one hand braced upon each side of his face. He tried to scream but only gasps of air escaped his mouth. "What am I?" She asked, "What are you? Your wife calls you abuser and adulterer. Your grandmother calls you thief. Wasn't it her pills you stole? And your sister? She called you monster. You..." "How?" he managed to whisper, "What are you? How do you know these things? How..." 

He fell silent and his head dropped as the last bit of energy slipped from his body into hers, rushing through her, warm and somehow satisfying. "Well, Mirjana," she asked herself out loud, "He asks a good question. What are you? A vindicator? A vampire?"

She allowed his limp body to fall to the ground with a thud as she smoothed out her dress. He wasn't dead, but as far as she could tell, he'd never wake again.

She felt too restless to just go home. After all, she hadn’t spent more than a couple hours out at a time for weeks now. "Maybe a movie," she thought to herself as she walked back down the alley to the sidewalk, heading to the diner where her truck was parked. "He was a scumbag. A total jerk," she tried to console herself as she pushed the image of his terrified face out of her mind. She hated how good it felt draining him of his life essence. "At least I didn't kill him this time!" she continued, "What is this? Like, four in a row now still alive? Someone will find him, right? And they’ll call an ambulance, surely! And he'll spend the rest of his miserable life in coma where he'll never hurt another person ever again!" She thought back to the first few who weren't so lucky. They were all bad men, but reminding herself of that didn't seem to make her feel much better. "Get it together, MJ!" she thought as she climbed into her truck.

She sat in the parking lot of the movie theatre and took a couple long, deep breaths, looking into the rearview mirror and running her fingers through her hair. She wasn't quite used to her new shoulder length bob yet. It had only been about a month since she cut it herself with a pair of kitchen shears. She paused as she remembered that night and panic began to creep in. "Not now, chica!" she scolded herself, "Get your butt out there and do something normal!" She climbed out and slammed her truck door shut with an unintended force that rocked the vehicle, startling herself. She looked around and was relieved to see no one else seemed to notice, then she slowly crossed the parking lot, carefully watching the pavement as she walked.

"Hello! What can I get for you?" the ticket clerk asked. "Whatever is about to start," Mirjana replied, staring down at feet. "Huh? Sorry, what?" the clerk asked, unable to hear her soft voice, muffled as she looked down. "Whatever is about to start," she repeated, careful to not look up at him. "Miss, I'm sorry. Can you talk directly into the speak-thru?" She hesitated and almost turned to walk away before taking another deep breath and slowly looking up at him.

His face was young and his eyes were kind. The whole world seemed to stop and fall silent as Mirjana's brain began flooding with knowledge of this young man's life; not details such as his name or age, but snapshots. "Worked hard in high school to get B's, stole a candy bar from a gas station once but immediately regretted it, visits his nana at the nursing home every weekend..." "Miss? Hey, um, are you okay?" Mirjana snapped back to reality as the clerk called out to her, looking through the glass of the box office with a concerned expression, asking if he should call for help. "No, um, I'm… I just, I changed my mind," she stammered as she averted her eyes back to the ground and made her way towards the parking lot.

"Deed reading strikes again!" she whispered to herself, crushed that her first attempt in weeks to lead a normal life was disrupted by these afflictions. One might think the ability to know all the deeds of a person by simply looking into their eyes would be a gift; however, Mirjana saw it as nothing more than a curse. It felt like an invasion into the lives of strangers. And how could a good social worker do her job without even looking into the faces of the people she served?

"How many days has it been since I even worked last?" She couldn't quite remember. All she knew was that just over a month ago, she took a week off to volunteer at a small orphanage in Mexico and she returned... different. She couldn't even explain to herself how her life changed on that trip; how could she begin to put it into words for others to understand?

She felt tears welling up as she reached out to open the door of her truck, longing for escape. The tears burst free and ran down her face as she stared in shock at the door handle left in her hand, realizing she had unintentionally tore it from the truck like paper mache. She felt like throwing the silver scrap metal and screaming, but to avoid drawing attention to herself, she quietly slipped the handle into her bag. In desperation, she walked to the passenger side of the truck and, ever so carefully, opened the door, climbed in, and scooted across the seat to rest her head on the steering wheel and wept. “Where do I go from here? How did I even get here in the first place?” she asked herself.

tattoo #3 - momentum

An arrow draws from the tension of the bowstring to launch forward. Likewise, our circumstances, both past and present, positive and negative, can be used to direct and prepare us for our journey. That's why the overall design of my newest tattoo that I just got last fall resembles an arrow, as a reminder that tensions in life can serve as momentum to move forward. God redeems all things, including our experiences. Each moment is a gift, and where we have BEEN equips us for where we ARE; here and now. 

In the center of the image, there are fragments of a compass and a clock, symbolizing the importance of mindfulness in the moment, being present, and making the most of divine appointments. The experiences that led us to this moment also prepared us for it; if it's to weather a storm or to be a haven for someone else in the midst of a tempest. 

As a nod to my wife Kimberly, born on March 18th, the clock is set to 3:18. Time shared with her is a blessing, and my life is so much more fulfilling with her in it. The head of the arrow is a lion, symbolizing Christ and resurrection, as well as strength and courage. The arrow shaft is the coordinates to my parents' farm in IN, where they raised me and still live today. The value of compassion they instilled in me remains as a guide. 

Lastly, the overall design is in honor and gratitude of our dear friend, Marva Diana Rhea. She was a gift to us, and I have very distinct memories of her encouraging me in my work with at-risk youth. Although already in the field, her untimely death led me to dig my heels in and strive to make a greater impact. Losing her to domestic violence is a difficult memory, but it's integral to where I am today. One common interest Marva and I shared was mythology. We had a conversation once about the Roman goddess Diana, and Marva loved that her middle name was that of a goddess known for her wisdom and strength. As goddess of the hunt, bows and arrows were often used on coins and in temples to represent Diana. Likewise, I've chosen to honor Marva with an arrow because of how she influenced the direction of my life and the momentum her memory gives me.

Branches: Beautiful Things

Today marks the end of a chapter we've known as The Branches Church, and if just one picture says a thousand words, then this chapter has been something incredible. From snapshots of sermons and worship services to photographs of friends and family loving one another well, thousands of illustrations bring this story to life. 

Naturally, the end of something so lovely brings sadness; yet there is anticipation for the journey ahead. God is a good author, and just as this chapter has, the next will certainly be full of beautiful things. 

No words can express what a blessing it has been to be written into this story alongside such wonderful people, all by a sovereign God who draws us more near to Him page by page.

Sorting through these through these thousands of pictures has taken many hours of deliberation over the course of the last few weeks. Each one represents a memory so distinct; how can this rich season of life be captured in just a short montage? 

The answer is... it can't.  

More than just an abbreviated summary of the last six years, this 5 minute and 47 second video is a token of gratitude; an expression of deep thanksgiving to God for this chapter and all of the beautiful things He has included in it.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." -John 15:5

My 2013

It's been a heck of a year.
I'm blessed.

2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008

still has a song

I have a crazy amount of unfinished posts just waiting in the que to be published. The ideas come, but they just don't keep on flowing like I'd like for them to. Or, most likely, I just don't stew over them long enough before closing my editor's window with the intention to return one day soon to complete whatever it is I'm writing. And of course, we all know where good intentions lead to; piles and piles of incomplete things. That's where good intentions lead me, anyways. 

Alas. 

Hence the blog silence. Sorta...

The clickity clack of my keyboard still riles the roosters in the wee hours of most mornings, but that satisfying swoosh sound made when clicking the "publish" button just ain't there to be heard too often these days.

So, yeah. Nathan still has a song.

Nathan just ain't singing it right now.

just for a moment

I fly in some of my dreams.

More like levitating, I guess. It requires a great amount of concentration just to stay a foot or two off the ground.

Its a wonderful feeling, but never quite satisfying.

Sometimes I climb to the tops of hills and jump, and for just a moment it feels like I really am flying.

I can draw my focus away from keeping my feet off the ground and just feel. Exhilaration. Freedom. Peace. Just for that one split second. And then...

Gravity takes hold. Tethered to the earth again, it takes everything in me to stay afloat. But I still hold onto that one moment.

The other day, I painted a picture for the first time in years. It's not exactly fine art, but it speaks to me; communicating exactly how and what I intended it to.

Sparrows, so plain and common. But when they fly, they're like all the other birds in the sky. Free. Their tawny hues become brilliant.

Even if for just a moment.

“The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.” -J.M. Barrie, The Little White Bird

a new song

I'm not Pavarotti.

But I can write a damn good song. And I'll sing the hell out of it when given a chance.

A former worshiper leader, a wonderful musician, and an amazing vocalist somehow ended up in my living room with my wife and I tonight. 

I sang out, stumbling across the strings of my guitar. Every sour chord, all my arrhythmic strumming and plucking, it seemed to fade away despite her keen ear.

The lyrics. The melody.
My voice. The meaning.
That's all she heard.

It all came together.

It meant something to her.

Just as it was. It meant something to her without being refined or reconfigured. It meant to her exactly what I meant it to mean. She found my heart. She listened and heard it, touched by it's words. She spoke to it. Comforted and encouraged it.

And a part of me was renewed.

I was made to sing a new song. And a new song. And a new song...
In fact, the songs just keep coming, one after the other.

I've kept them all under my hat as of late. Text files on the Mac, scraps of papers and scribbles in notebooks. Melodies in the safety of my car and shower. Strums on the guitar at 3:57am when the rest of the world sleeps.

But under that hat... I'm beginning to think, yet again, might not be the place for all this... whatever this is... But mostly, I'm just thankful for this evening. For the fellowship. The graceful ears. The colliding of hearts. The opportunity my wife and I shared with this fellow believer to worship God in our own home. I am grateful. And inspired.

And from it, in my heart, a new song is growing.

stepping into someone else's slipper

Write a new ending to the Cinderella story as though the glass slipper fit one of the evil step-sisters.

She quietly watched in anticipation, just waiting to see the look on her step-sisters' faces.

"Oh, their disappointment when the prince turns them away! They will be simply green with envy as he whisks me away in his great carriage!"

The royal servant kneeled before the chair, the slipper sitting atop a cushion adorned with tassels and fine embroidery  It was the most beautiful thing Cinderella had ever seen, the crystal glass shimmering in the light like diamonds. The mere sight of it made her want to dance, just as she had the night of the ball. For a moment she lost herself in the memory of gliding across the ballroom floor, as though the slippers were wings upon her feet.

Lady Tremaine, Cinderella's step-mother, hovered over the servant with hungry eyes. "How devine!" she thought, "Me! The mother of a princess!" Cinderella surveyed the scene with disgust, thinking her step-mother to resemble a vulture just waiting to feed.

First, the servant motioned to Drizella to sit before him. Cinderella muffled her laughter at the sight. Drizella's foot was nearly twice the length of the slipper, though she was determined to cram her foot inside. Cinderella noted the expression on the prince's face as he watched from the lounge. He almost looked relieved. "And why shouldn't he?" Cinderella thought, "She is, after all, quite homely."

Lady Tremaine scowled down at the servant as he announced, "It does not fit!"

Drizella rose begrudged as the servant ushered her from the chair and gestured to Anastasia to replace her. Anastasia could hardly contain her excitement, stumbling as she approached. She then nearly tipped over in her seat when the servant lifted the slipper towards her foot, giggling and snorting like a pig; Cinderella thought it no coincidence, as she compared Anastasia's girth to that of a barnyard creature. Cinderella desperately hoped the slipper wouldn't shatter when it fell to the floor. "After all," she thought, "her stubby foot resembles a hoof! Most certainly unfitting for such a shoe! Surely it will slip off and she will be so embarrassed for believing it might have fit."

Cinderella rose proudly from behind the stairs where she had watched in hiding. She stepped forward to present herself as the love of the prince's life, ready to accept her new life of royalty.

But no one noticed Cinderella's grand entrance. All eyes were fixed on the magical transformation taking place before them. Cinderella turned to see, in complete shock and horror, that the slipper had not fallen from Anastasia's foot as she was so certain it would. A brilliant blue light swirled around Anastasia and her gaudy clothing became the elegant gown Cinderella had worn the night of the ball; the very gown that her fairy godmother had conjured up for her.

The silence was broken with Lady Tremaine's joyful shrieks and clapping. The prince ran to Anastasia and embraced her.  "My love! My love! Marry me and I will make you a princess!"

"Cinderella!" Lady Tremaine called shrilly. She jumped with a small yelp of fright, startled to suddenly notice her step-daughter already standing nearby. "Oh, you wretched thing! How long have you been standing there gawking? Have you no manners?" She flailed her arms dramatically as she spoke, "Ah, no matter. I called you to fetched the finest wine from the cellar. We must celebrate Anastasia's engagement to the prince!"

Cinderella stood frozen in disbelief and heartbreak, hearing her step-mother's words but not quite comprehending them. "Go, you lazy thing! Wine! Fetch the wine!" Cinderella turned and walked to the cellar in shock, moving as though in a trance.

In the privacy of the cellar, Cinderella was overwhelmed by raw emotion. She began to cry in torrents, clasping her hands tightly over her mouth to muffle her uncontrollable sobs, for fear Lady Tremaine and her step-sisters would hear her.

Suddenly, a familiar blue light emitted from seemingly no where, then faded to reveal Cinderella's fairy godmother. Cinderella looked at her with deep pain in her eyes, unable to speak. "I know," the grandmotherly woman said warmly,"I know, child."

"You see, I came to you, drawn by the purity of your heart. But it became clear, with just that one night of splendor, that you, my dear, are weak. The hope of a brilliant future in the arms of a prince, the promise of gowns and jewels... it changed you. You succumbed to it, allowed it to taint you. The mediation of your heart and thoughts are not what they once were, and this, Cinderella, is a terrible offense to the gift I presented you."

"But.. but.." Cinderella manage to stammer, "but I..."

"Lets not complicate this, my dear. The punishment for your crime is this. And you shall remain in servitude to this family. You will watch your step-sister and the prince live happily together. You will wait after them and care for their children and their children's children. After you regain your meekness, you may fall in love with another servant, or perhaps a commoner from the village, but together you will remain in servitude and live in great humility. Farewell." Fading into the same blue light that she appeared in, the fairy godmother vanished.

In anger and bitterness, Cinderella never again loved. She allowed her heart to harden and died many years later in solitude. Anastasia, however, wandered from the wicked ways taught to her by her mother; the purity of the prince's heart had changed her.

And so she lived happily ever after.

that moment I rock this

That moment you realize you and Miley Cyrus have the same hair.

And your a dude.

But in the words of Hannah Montana, "With a new attitude, everything can change. Make it how you want it to be!"

I think I rock this hair. Who's pumping up the party now, Miley!?

*BTW, I didn't actually know any Hannah Montana quotes, I just Googled one for kicks :-)

why bunnies and eggs?

I needed some stress relief at work Easter morning so I began sculpting a little bunny, lamb, and chick, inadvertently stirring up a conversation with my co-worker and the kids I work with about what any of these things have to do with Easter.

Of course, I didn't have many answers at that moment... 

But I've done a little research since. 

Over many centuries, pagan rituals and Christian celebrations have merged and become what we now recognize to be many of our own holiday traditions. 

Eostre was a  pagan goddess worshipped by the Saxons. She was known as the goddess of spring and fertility, and was sometimes sought after for blessings of luck. She was highly celebrated at the Spring Equinox. 

It was customary for pagan deities to have patron mascots, such as Athena's beloved owl. Athena was known by the Greeks as the goddess of war and wisdom. Because she was believed to have a special affinity for owls and thought to sometimes disguise herself as one, owls have become a symbol of her wisdom. Although faith in mythology has faded, the old saying "wise an an owl" is still engrained in our culture.

In ancient images and stories, Eostre often appears with rabbits and was associated with eggs and newborn animals, symbols of new life and spring. And so, naturally, these things were all highly integrated into how her believers worshipped her. Because of their proximity within the year and somewhat similar themes of new life, the resurrection of Christ and the celebration of Eostre began to merge over time.

Henceforth all the fluffy stuffed bunnies, colored eggs, and those chick-shaped marshmallows that give us all sugar-highs every Spring. So if you didn't know, now you do!

ABC's: familiar oddity

Create a story 26 sentences long and begin each sentence with the next letter of the alphabet.

Another day begins. Before I even open my eyes, I know today will be no different than yesterday. Couldn't I just go back to sleep? Daylight dances on the wall through the blinds. Even its beauty seems mundane.

Finally, something unexpected happens.

Growing brighter, the light suddenly overwhelms the room. Held in it's warmth, I'm unable to move. I can't see beyond the brightness. Joy fills me, and I'm at peace. Kinetic energy rushes all around me. Light begins to fade and the whiteness dissipates to reveal my surroundings.

My bedroom has been washed away. Nothing I know remains.

Onyx walls tower over me, the deepest black imaginable. Perched atop a silver stand, an unknown creature of dazzling white serenades me. Quietly singing, her song sounds oddly familiar.

Reality begins to sink in. Somehow, I am no longer home.

To my left, an opened archway exposes the beauty beyond the luminous yet ebony edifice I stand in. Under an expanse of the bluest skies lay a garden of emerald green. Vibrant and exotic, flowers with blooms bigger than I've ever seen stand tall and proud. Wandering through the archway and into the garden, I hear an unearthly voice call me by name. Xenodochial and warm, an indescribable face welcomes me, "We're so happy you've returned," he says.

Yes, I cannot understand it, but I've been here before. Zaribas adorned in thorns and rose buds enclose us in the garden, protected from the treachery of the outer world I somehow know I must set free.

30 (XO, luv u 4ever)

Kimberly turned 30 today; one of those big milestone birthdays. But it's been really special for another reason, too; we were 15 when we first met, meaning that now, roughly, we've known one another half our lives. 

We've celebrated all month long, starting with just a little gift or two everyday for the past two weeks, left with small notes to her that I hand wrote on blue card-stock. Yesterday we had a great meal with our wonderful church family and today we had a small gathering with some folks Kimberly works with. 

We are truly blessed with incredible people in our lives.

I also presented Kimberly with a final note tonight, handwritten on blue card-stock like the rest of them. This time, instead of being attached to a gift, it was a note with the lyrics to a song I wrote for her, which I then sang. 

Right. In. The. Middle. Of. The. Restaurant.

Yes, there may or may not have been a jumbo margarita involved (aka liquid courage) beforehand. I popped into the restaurant about an hour early for some decorating and hid my guitar, tipping the hostess to keep an eye on it for me and to standby to turn off the radio when I was ready to sing.

I'm proud to say there weren't many dry eyes in the house! I think even some of the men may have teared up just a little had something in their eyes.

The past couple days have certainly been memorable, thanks in part to some very lovely people! Surprises, gifts, shared meals, hugs, and most importantly: lots and LOTS of LOVE!

Happy birthday, my dearest!

// XO, LUV U 4EVER // 
   video down below lyrics

August ’98, the first day back from summer break / we were fifteen, straight from a high school movie scene / You were that girl singing “Backstreet’s back, alright!” / I was that guy, trying my best to hide // Within a year we were signing letters, “XO, luv u 4ever!” / They said we were too young to make it together / but here we are now, still love you forever // Winter ’05, snow and a ring, on a carriage ride / “Will you be my wife?” / A three letter word changed my life / And you were that girl dreaming in all shades of pink / I was that guy too happy to believe // Within a year we were saying our vows / my love, my life, and my wife now / I never dreamed it could get any better / XO, still luv u 4ever // Maybe a year or two has passed / I can’t keep count, it goes so fast / There's been some bumps along the road / but they're all worth the story told // That first year, signing letters, “XO, luv u 4ever ” / They said we were too young to make it together / but here we are now / love you / Time flew by, we said our vows / my love, my life, and my wife now / I never dreamed it could get any better / XO, still luv u 4ever //

what (not) to wear

what NOT to wear

- the old self and it's early ways

"Put to death therefore what is earthly in you... put off the old self with its practices..." Col 3:5-9

what TO wear

- the new self in the image of God

"... put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator..." Col 3:10

you've GOT to share

- do everything for God's glory

"... do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus..." Col 3:17

Home for the Holidays '12

December 23, Kimberly and I headed back home to Indiana so we could celebrate Christmas with my parents and her mother this year.  Although I spent about a week with my mom and dad in November '11 and Kimberly made a quick 48 hour stop that previous summer, this was the first time we've made the trek back home together since moving to SoCal three years ago. 

We were greeted by a blanket of fresh snow almost every morning. The peanut-butter fudge flowed freely. Pizza King was but a ten minute drive away. Soda became "pop" again. Going to the movies was just something fun to do instead of a serious financial commitment to make...

We were home again, in Indiana.

Of course, all humor aside, spending time with our long-distanced loved-ones was certainly the highlight of our trip. I'm happy to be back in San Diego; I love it here and this is my home now... but it felt really good to visit with some special people in Indiana, and I wish we could be a bigger part of one another's lives. Catching up with some old friends and family members is like riding a bicycle.

Having such a wonderful time with my parents made me miss them even more than what I did before this trip. Every second with them was a blessing. I'm already looking forward to the next time I can see them!

Happy holidays? You bet!

2012 MY LIFE mash.up / remix

After lots of technical difficulties and frustration... IT'S FINALLY HERE! I always look forward to posting a wrap-up video at the end of each year and was disappointed I couldn't follow my own tradition of posting the video right on January 1st like I have for the last three of four years now. In order to just crank it out and get it posted asap, it's just not quite as fancy-schmancy as it's been in the past. But I am super excited about this year's song selection! It's my first-ever self-made mash up! It's made up of several #1 hits of 2012 and was a blast to make! Happy New Year to all! I hope you enjoy looking back and reflecting with me!

2011, 2010, 2009, 2008

wrapped up mashup

I just wrapped up and exported my first ever magamix mashup song!  Perhaps a new hobby?

Every January I post a picture montage to reflect on the previous year. Scraping up the pictures is the easy part, considering I take so many. But the challenge? Coming up with a song that's just right!

I've always wanted to write and record my own song to accompany this project, but I haven't quite made it that far yet.

But I did download the free software from online and took some YouTube tutorials to come up with my own mashup of some 2012 hits. Sure, lots of mashups already exist, but I wanted the creative challenge. Plus, most mashups tend to blend together all the foulest, most sexual lyrics into one song, and I'm just not interested in pairing up that kind of nasty with pictures of all my beloved friends and family.

So, I'm extra pumped for 2012's yearend wrap-up video!

Adios Sorensens! Bendiciones!

Rewind. Repeat. Re-post.

Sometimes I like to take a look back at posts I've written from the past. This blog is definitely an accurate representation of how chaotic my brain is, so I'm never quite sure what sort of mess I'll stumble across.

Today I decided I was going to find out what was going through my mind four years ago, as this is the furthest my blog goes back. So I used my handy-dandy timeline widget and found myself stepping back to September 23, 2008. 

God works in mysterious ways.

Amidst this dark spiritual valley modernly known as a depressive episode, I'm reading these words God inspired me to write exactly four years ago..

The light is dimming as I wander from Your path / I don’t know where I’m going but I know right where I’m at / I’ve been down this road before, traveling in the dark / But then you lit the way for me that led right where You are / And I lived in Your light / I shared in Your life / The blood of Jesus Christ Made me clean / Do it again. Here I am. /  Bowing down. I lift up my hands. / Do it again. I repent. / Father God. Hosanna! Amen. / Do it again. / The truth is with me when I live my life for You / Lovingly You guide me when I allow You to / God I’ve been unfaithful, my eyes have turned from Your face / Now here I am all lost again, Lord, I need Your grace / To live in Your light / To share in Your life / By the blood of Jesus Christ make me clean / Do it again. Here I am. / Bowing down. I lift up my hands. / Do it again. I repent. / Father God. Hosanna! Amen. / Do it again. / I will live in Your light / I will share in Your life / The blood of Jesus Christ makes me clean / I will live in Your light / I will share in Your life / The blood of Jesus Christ makes me clean / Do it again. Here I am. / Bowing down. I lift up my hands. / Do it again. I repent. / Father God. Hosanna! Amen. / Do it again. Here I am. / Bowing down. I lift up my hands. / Do it again. I repent. / Father God. Hosanna! Amen. / Do it again.