Blue Like Sporks

2011-10-07T17:31:00.000-07:00

As I sit here feeling like a slave at work, eating cold lasagna for dinner, and continuing to fight back the tears of sorrow, of being overwhelmed, and of feeling like I've given up everything to this and it still demands more, I can't help but think that I can't blame the people who finally hit the point where continuing another day seems worse than just ending it all. I can only pray that God has mercy on them and can give them peace from the torment and pain that led them to make such a drastic decision.

This is no way to live. I have given up too much, and continue to give out of what I no longer have. It feel a sorrow as if my soul was already lying on its death bed, taking what it fears may be its last few breaths. Something has to change before that happens, because a living body that allows its soul to die seems equally severe as the loss of physical life.

I'm afraid for what will become of my career, but I can't keep this up...it will kill me.

Psalm 86

2011-09-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

Incline Your ear, O LORD, and answer me;
For I am afflicted and needy.

Preserve my soul, for I am a godly man;
O You my God, save Your servant who trusts in You.

Be gracious to me, O Lord,
For to you I cry all day long.

Make glad the soul of Your servant,
For to You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

For You, Lord, are good, and ready to forgive,
And abundant in lovingkindness to all who call upon You.

Give ear, O LORD, to my prayer;
And give heed to the voice of my supplications!

In the day of my trouble I shall call upon You,
For You will answer me.

There is no one like You among the gods, O Lord,
Nor are there any works like Yours.

All nations whom You have made shall come and worship before You, O Lord,
and they shall glorify Your name.

For You are great and do wondrous deeds;
You alone are God.

Teach me Your way, O LORD;
I will walk in Your truth;
Unite my heart to fear Your name.

I will give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with all my heart,
And will glorify Your name forever.

For Your lovingkindness toward me is great,
And You have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol.

O God, arrogant men have risen up against me,
And a band of violent men have sought my life,
And they have not set You before them.

But You, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious,
Slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness and truth.

Turn to me, and be gracious to me;
Oh grant Your strength to Your servant,
And save the son of Your handmaid.

Show me a sign for good,
That those who hate me may see it and be ashamed,
Because You, O LORD, have helped me and comforted me.

...God, may this prayer ring true over my life despite the many ways that I have failed you. Thank you for being slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness.

Dear 2011

2011-09-28T22:22:00.000-07:00

Dear 2011,

PLEASE END AND NEVER COME BACK!!! (and try not to overshadow or push any of your hellishness into 2012)

Sincerely,
-Greg

Year 26: Day 2

2011-09-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

Roughly a year ago when I was houseshopping and was stuck between two townhouses that I really liked (one in Morrisville, the other, the one that ended up becoming my home), I remember driving once by each of the houses and I had a scary moment after I went under contract for my house where I felt like I heard a very clear "don't buy this house!" when I was standing in front of it.

It was one of those moments where I questioned whether that was just my normal, overly cautious mind working itself into a worry and yelling on the inside, or if it was a voice that I should have listened to.

Now, I wonder whether I should have ever jumped into buying a house here in Raleigh...because at that moment I made a statement or a decision that I was here to stay. No longer was I free to pick up and go wherever I wanted if the winds of change led me elsewhere, and that is a decision that I have had to weigh very carefully lately on whether I regret it or if it was a good thing. Not that I have any idea of where else I would go, but suddenly one of the anchors that gave me a good reason to stay in Raleigh is on the brink of existing no longer, and the other anchor is feels like it is pulling me down into the depths at a rate faster than I can adjust.

Suddenly, I feel like the wind was knocked out of me, and I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore. I feel trapped by a job with incessant demands and I'm losing steam and cracking under pressure just to get a massive project underway. Lately, on many days I just go home feeling like I've worked lots of hours just to deliver a performance that I consider adequate and somehow I either feel or suspect that my boss is aware of this shift and is disappointed.

I feel like I want to re-engage but am afraid of burnout.

Physically, I feel like I've lost all drive to be the athlete that in my mind I want to be, much in the same way that at work I want to be the top notch go-to guy.

Spiritually, I am just simply at a loss as to what to do, or how to react.

On the eve of my 26th birthday, I finally finished watching the movie Philadelphia, which features a gay character played by Tom Hanks where he is suing his employer for HIV/AIDS-related discrimination and is in the terminal stages of AIDS. There is a very emotional scene nearing the end of the movie where he is sick in the hospital and each of his family members come up to him and say their "goodnights" before they leave. I lost it during that scene, because for a moment it didn't matter all of the poor choices that Tom Hanks' character made that landed him on that deathbed...in that scene he had the one thing that the loneliest of hearts howl for on a cold, dark night (and it is not spoonfuls of nutella): It is the unconditional acceptance and love of his closest friends and family who knew everything about him. His mom, his dad, his brother...and so on. Yeah, I use the word acceptance deliberately despite it being such a trigger word these days. Clearly his loved ones didn't want to "accept" his fate (whether they've deemed it out of normal or deviant behavior)...but they simply loved him as a whole...the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes it's easy to forget what that feels like, or that it can even be experienced in real life.

What a depressing way to begin another year of life. Maybe a haircut will help.

HGTV + Greg = Not Resting Until I DIE!!!

2011-05-29T22:09:00.000-07:00

Speaking of not resting, I got KO'ed by a migraine for a couple of hours earlier tonight, which meant me not getting the things done at work like I wanted to so I wouldn't have to work (or feel guilty for not working) on Monday. BUT, now that the meds have kicked in, and I'm feeling nice & energized by a Wendy's Spicy Chicken sandwich, I'm off to fixing some more stuff at work.

However, I got the BRILLIANT idea to check if the cable tv at work carries HGTV while I run some installations that take about an hour a piece, and the heavens opened and I am watching HGTV in HD, and life is wonderful. Ahhh...I think HGTV appeals to the blue collar worker in my genes. I'm becoming convinced that buried somewhere in every Hispanic's genetics is hidden (or public) love of manual labor.

Ahhh, manual labor...so many things I wish I knew how to do, and if I had unlimited time, brainpower, and resources, here are the many skills I would love to add to my knowledge palette:
- The contractor named "Jose" in me would probably appreciate knowing: plumbing, carpentry, drywall, electrical work, tiling & brick veneers.
- The green "Joe" in me would love to know: diesel mechanics! I also recently became aware that there is a biodiesel plant in Wilson, NC!!! How cool is that? Best of all, biodiesel prices are comparable to gasoline & petroleum-based diesel prices! ...maybe there is a future oil-free alternative fuel in biodiesel??? I hope so if it means Made in the USA! :) ...that, and a little on solar paneling, real furniture restoration skills, and while we're at it, some serious gardening & landscaping skills.

Ugh...I think I'm gonna have to pick and choose a few, or else I'll be 85, really tired, and still nowhere near finished. But for now, I'll enjoy some Income Property while this last install finishes up! (I LOVE this show!)

The God I serve.

2011-03-17T22:39:00.000-07:00

I am still reeling from this week. My brain is going at a million miles per hour.

This week began with a nightmare that I desperately wanted to wake from. I thought I was going to lose my Dad, and there was nothing I could do for him, and I couldn't even get to him in time.

When the nightmare finally sank in, my heart & soul were unconsolable, not because I didn't know where my Dad would end up...in fact, I am blessed that my Dad is a believer. My plea was "no, not this way". Not with Mom being so close to retirement and finally getting to breathe, and with Dad being so far away and none of us being able to get to him.

The only thing I could do was pray. Pray the desperate big words of "God, please do the impossible for me"...and with me joined prayer after prayer, first from family, then from facebook contacts, then from their churches, and the prayer request went viral, and it was one of the most powerful displays of the body of Christ that I think I have ever felt.

I hate to hyper-spiritualize anything, and the scientist in me always wants to try to find some rational explanation, but there is nothing rational to be found here.

1) My dad happened to be in our home city and not on a flight or somewhere else. Some coincidental run-ins happened where friends and family bumped into each other and exchanged phone numbers to re-connect with Dad while he was visiting. One of these happened to be the director of a new wing in the hospital where my dad was taken to. Another happened to be one of the top neurologists in the area.

2) Dad deteriorated so bad that he was non-responsive. The doctors were forced between not doing the brain surgery and certain death, and doing the surgery at an elevated risk that he might not make it anyway. Doctors were surprised by how easy the surgery was, and how the bleeding had stopped. Somehow I would never group "brain surgery" and "easy" together...but they claim that the surgery couldn't have gone any better given the circumstances.

3) As soon as my dad was out of the OR, he immediately responded and recognized my uncle (also a doctor). The next morning, he was sedated, but speaking and thinking clearly. By the afternoon, he was even joking around.

4) The heavens opened, and my mom made it safely in travel as we kept hearing report after report of people amazed by how quickly Dad was recovering. By the time she got to him, his head bandages were off, he can move his hands and feet, recovered sensation, has a sharp mind again, and is speaking normally.

I am so thankful for God's provision, for his protection, for his response, and most importantly, for being greater than the things that can keep me up at night. I prayed, and I got my miracle. My dad is alive thanks by the pure grace of God guiding coincidence, surgical hands, and straight-up divine intervention. I don't have enough words to express thankfulness to the God I serve.

Invictus (unconquerable)

2011-03-02T09:58:00.000-08:00

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley (1875)

God, I thank you for the freedom to be the master of my fate and the captain of my soul...that I am not bound to the chains of sin, or a slave to a nature that in its insatiability, is utterly destructive. It is my prayer that I neither forget this freedom, nor take it for granted.

I am preparing for a battle that I already feel like I am in the middle of. I have to hope that the end result will be worth it...or at the very least come out a little manlier with some extra sword-wielding muscle and spartan-like appearance (sorry, this is serious, but I had to throw in a little humor in wishful thinking).

2011-02-15T18:48:00.000-08:00

God grant me peace, but more importantly, the desire to live another day.

The waterworks

2011-02-03T17:20:00.001-08:00

...and just like that, it hit suddenly.

I was showering after taking out some aggression on the poor treadmill, and the waterworks started and they simply kept on going.

Despair, hopelessness, loss, and even a desire that it all be over with...it came pouring out, rushing out at a rate faster than the 2.75 gpm of water toppling over my head. Three waves of this quiet but violent expression and then a calm numbness.

God where are you?

or more likely, where am I that I can't hear God?

I feel so lost in this journey...the unbeaten path that I so glamorize out of that Robert Frost poem. I guess he never said it would be easy, or that there wouldn't be times where you're so tired of traveling that you just want to turn around and go back or just give up.

God, I really need you right now. I can't do this by myself. I need you to be my compass...to help me find my way again.

2011-02-01T01:08:00.000-08:00

I don't think some people realize what happens when they don't do their job right...

SOMEONE ELSE HAS TO STAY UP TILL 4AM TO FIX THE STUFF THEY DIDN'T DO.

Mufasa had better watch his back tomorrow or he might get CUT by a very cranky Bon Qui-Qui. For real. Ugh.

A weekend of quiet desperation

2011-01-30T21:29:00.000-08:00

It feels like sadness and anger are all I come here to write about anymore. I suppose in some ways maybe that's the purpose of my blog...to help me process, and get through the difficult-yet-mundane moments in life.

I took the weekend off from work.

Not really because I could...quite the opposite, the pressure is still on to finish this work project & report by close of business tomorrow.

Actually, it was because I feel so depressed that I have to summon up everything I have just to do the the things that I absolutely had to do at the specific time. Thing is, I finished testing Friday night which felt like an accomplishment, and then suddenly it hit me...the pressure from work, the emotion that I denied myself to feel when my dad wrecked his car horribly and that feeling of not knowing whether he was ok or I was about to lose him for the 30 minutes of waiting in silence, the fact that one of the pillars that I depend on the most for reassurance and peace is suddenly in peril and I have no idea how to help him, dealing with a new-found sense of responsibility and having to bear a load when I feel like I'm racing towards burnout, and a painful reminder of something I lost long ago that I may never get back in this lifetime.

All at once. And then there's everything else...I'm tired. I don't want to get married. I don't want to date. I'm tired of people pressuring me towards dating and marriage like it's the best possible thing I can do. What if I can't? What if I won't? Why do people always have to end statements about me being single with "well, don't worry you'll find her"? I think the human soul is kind of like the human body: Some injuries you can heal from completely and resume full activity, and others cut so deep into you that you're simply physically restricted from being able to do all the same things as others. We see it in athletes all the time...some come back stronger, and others just have to retire after a bad knee injury or broken bone and find other ways to live and enjoy life, and we accept the likely permanence of that with understanding. Yet when it comes to the mind and soul, just because they are less tangible in the physical world, they are for whatever reason not subject to the same limitations, and so regardless of how serious the trauma it's this push to go, go, go. What I wish I could tell everyone is "You don't know what it feels like to be made to feel special, uniquely special and utterly worthless at the same time...to have your identity obliterated right along with your self-esteem and the idea that people can be trusted, much like a shattered mirror, and then somehow think that if you're not over it by now you're just not working hard enough to fix things. I can have friends, even close friends, and be a dang good friend, and a good family member...I think that's as far as I go. So stop it...stop asking me to be more than that to someone else." I think I'm doing good for me, ya know?

I don't even think I want kids anymore. Nursery time at church is fun, but only because I reminisce about the time when a special bunch of kids were that age...I think something happens to you when you help raise someone else's kid. After you go through the diaper phase with them, you don't want to go through that again, and so on. It's like the joy of having your own child and experiencing life through their eyes is fulfilled in getting to invest in them...my wonderful nieces and nephews that I love to death.

This silence. The unique ability to be able to choose to keep your twin-size bed, or upgrade to a queen-sized bed out of want rather than of need. Even being able to process what feels like a thousand pounds on your shoulders without having to explain to someone else what you're feeling rather than being alone to process....even if loneliness IS what you are processing.

I dunno. I'm just tired. I hope I can make it through tomorrow.

2010-10-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

I am so not cool anymore. I mean, I was never cool, but I think I'm pretty much hitting the epitome of dorkness right about now relative to the rest of the spectrum.

2010-08-24T19:01:00.000-07:00

There is a type of loneliness that strikes every once in a while...the kind that it's almost scary how much desperation you feel. A gut-wrenching feeling that you'd do anything to make it less painful.

So what did I do to keep myself from doing something desperate? I reverted to two of my loves in life: Cleaning, and booking my annual pilgrimage to Miami.

Both needed to happen anyway.

I feel so...stupid...

2010-07-03T20:21:00.000-07:00

for caring this much about someone I barely know. I've had this on my mind all week. I thought about submitting it to postsecret, but it's not really a secret, so instead, I've chosen to post it on here...the blog that, as far as I know, has relatively no readers. Dear one or two readers, I apologize for the sheer stupidity of this post. It is overly dramatic and perhaps only poetic in the same way that J.J. Redick's poems can mimic, so don't expect my best to come out here. Ironically enough, both J.J. Redick and the friend addressed in this letter are or have been Duke students at one point, so perhaps this is just the kind of sorry writing that said institution and anything related to it can inspire. I just had to put this out somewhere though, and this is the only outlet I could think of.

Dear friend,

In three weeks' time, you went from the oddball stranger that introduced himself with "hell yeah!" to someone with whom I shared my deep love for the $5 Cookout tray of greasy deliciousness (and fancy shake!), and even my geeky appreciation of MST3k. Even though we both shared perhaps an unhealthy love for movies, academics, and are both work-a-holics, you were so different from me that I loved getting to hang out with you, because I knew it meant getting perspective and understanding of things completely foreign to me, like bars, life on the west coast, geeky legal things, the STILL horrible-sounding concept of one-night stands and "rebounds", and Quentin Tarantino movies.

I thought we were set. I already had an idea of how awesome the summer could be...the possible outings, short road trips, double dates, crunchy food eats, movies, and maybe even a trip out to roller coaster heaven somewhere.

In three weeks' time, you went from the friend who stood me up on a friday night, twice, to the friend that must be really busy this week, to the friend that hasn't responded to anything in two weeks, to the friend that must not want to be my friend any longer. You've vanished into thin air as if you'd never existed and I made you up in my mind the whole time. Bit of a scary thought, actually.

I guess we're done. I still hold onto the hope that somehow and for some reason, there is a perfectly good explanation. That you're not shutting me out intentionally or out of malice, and that there are still two people involved in this thing called friendship. But I know better than to trust my heart on this one...I need to let you go and move onto trying this again elsewhere.

In six weeks' time, you broke my heart, friend. I laugh now as I write that sentence only because I stupidly trusted you, and because what should have been an evening of celebration is instead an evening at work with a pervading sense of sadness over a friend that has been lost. Happy 25th Birthday, Ray.

-Greg

Six days

2010-05-31T06:37:00.000-07:00

I am 6 days away from attempting my first sprint triathlon. How epic this seems.

It's weird, you know...sports never seemed like my thing.
Growing up, I realized that despite the fact that I could palm a basketball from the size of my hands, I was a horrible basketball player. Despite my ability to run, I was not nearly as good at soccer as my classmates (I suppose I get that for growing up in Latin-America). I spent two horrible months as a kid trying to pick up baseball on a team that didn't bother to teach me simple things, like not to palm the baseball when you try to throw it so it goes further than 10 feet. That didn't last long before I broke down and begged my parents to let me out of the sport.

...and that's how it went for every team sport, even kickball. Eeek! Let's not even talk about football, I mean dealing with a spherical object is hard enough, but no, they had to make the stupid thing oblong so you have to learn this entire dynamic of of spirals and hand placement and "follow through." To this day, "follow through" is a muscle mystery to me.

But back to the point...this seems epic. I feel like I'm almost worthy of calling myself an "athlete"...how cool is that?

Next Saturday, I will look like any other crazy out there with the odd hairless legs, stretchy pants, skimpy shorts, a crazy mix of tan lines, and numbers written in marker all over. After months of training, a few falls and scrapes, feeling sheer exhaustion, drinking coffee to stay awake at work, and trying to hold my body together without injury...it's almost here.

...and I'm going after it. A personal victory that will hopefully set a precedent for the personal goals to come during this weird journey that I'm on. Today is my final run-through before I start tapering down training. Here goes!

Moments like these keep me on my toes.

2010-03-14T11:26:00.000-07:00

Today, I met a girl that managed to rock my world in a 5-minute conversation. Like the kind that makes me freeze in place, possibly fall on my face, and say too much all at once.

Thank you, Katie. Even if I never see you again, or even if we end up becoming just friends, today you reminded me that the girl of my dreams might actually exist somewhere out there.

PS: I found this cartoon so hilariously appropriate. A BIG thanks to Doug Savage for allowing me to share his artwork (originally titled "The Brain In Love" from www.savagechickens.com).

One of those days...

2010-01-13T12:05:00.000-08:00

Do you ever get the feeling like you're always trying to catch up to everyone else?

I do.

and relatively often.

I know that it is somewhat ridiculous to sit here and compare myself, my success in any given area of life, with others, but to a degree (no pun intended) I think that is somewhat ingrained in you when you graduate from a school like UNC. There, it seems like everyone has an ambition 3x the capacity of what should be expected of a normal human being, and everyone wants to hit it big when they finish...having that 4.0 GPA on your double major while magically having several years of work, humanitarian experiences, and research, a north face jacket, an intramural sports championship winner t-shirt, and several open-armed admissions letters from the top grad schools in the country (because everyone knows that's where the real success starts...sometime between your master's and your 3rd Ph.D.).

Somehow, my ambitions didn't quite pan out. I do have a great job that I enjoy but that was not necessarily due (or related really) to my double major, and I certainly didn't get my 4.0. I got plenty of good work experience but that was not the prestigious internship or the amazing research position, instead its rewards were simple things...like learning to deal with people, and paying for bills. Oddly enough, one of these odd jobs had more weight on me getting a job than my degree's subjects. I never got that cool black north face jacket, I was too busy or out of shape to attempt the intramural open swim meet, and I got 10 slaps in the face from the nation's top ranked (and not so top ranked) dental schools.

Some of these outcomes could be attributed to various decisions made, priorities chosen, and other things that I had control over. Others just seemed to happen out of some type of mysterious cosmic decree. The crazy part is that I feel like I worked two or three times harder just in striving for my planned goals. My closest friends were classmates at the top of each class...I studied with them, volunteered with them, and during the times when most people were partying, resting, or "livin' it up", I worked even harder. I always have. I had real jobs to sustain myself, poured myself into understanding my course subjects, and had more hands-on knowledge and experience in the career I was striving for than most applicants...but when I look at the results, there's times when I wonder if I would have gotten the same outcome being a couch potato with only a half-ounce of ambition...and a half-ounce, by the way, is not very much.

I struggle to understand how none of my plans really came to fruition despite my maximal efforts, and what came to be was completely unintentional. Somehow when it was all over with and the dust settled, my brilliant classmates moved on to do some truly outstanding things, and I'm back to the drawing board trying to figure out how to catch up.

Do you cease to exist when you remove your birthday from facebook?

2009-09-15T20:03:00.000-07:00

In five days, I will be experiencing yet another birthday. The last couple of years, I've begun to look less and less forward to that day, not because I'm getting older or because life is bad...on the contrary, I am incredibly blessed and I love the wisdom that I am gaining over the years, but because it seems to get more and more disappointing and predictable with each year. It's always a million wall posts on facebook from people who only remembered because their facebook told them, and 95% are empty "happy birthdays" from people who do it out of courtesy or because they feel like they should.

Everything just feels obligatory and customary...you get a cake because it's the birthday expectation and tradition, you get presents that you already know what they are because people asked you what you want them to get for you...Hallmark writes cookie-cutter messages that go on cards so people don't have to think about what they want to say and can just default to a 3-minute trip because they feel like they should since everyone expects to get a card on your birthday.

As much of a perfectionist as I am, the one thing I wish I didn't have control over is how my own birthday will be spent...in picking out presents, selecting my cake of choice, organizing my own party, and asking people to be part of it. This fabrication of self-celebration just feels like some ego trip.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I am taking for granted the fact that live in a place where all of these things are feasible. I am very appreciative for all of that. However, sometimes I feel like in all of this abundance people replace the meaning behind the tasks with the tasks themselves, and so the tasks lose their significance and are performed almost robotically.

My point is that I can buy myself a cake, buy and wrap presents for myself, pick my favorite cards...even write wall posts to myself and recreate all of these tasks nearly effortlessly and to a perfection of what should in theory make me happy.

What I cannot recreate, is the feeling of being truly loved by another...of people choosing to remember, neither out of duty nor tradition, but because they legitimately are glad that I'm around...of receiving a gift, material or not, that is wrapped in so much love and joy that it needs no wrapping paper to be exciting...of words moving me to tears, not because they were well-written and packaged in a cute font, but because they are powerfully intentioned, raw, and genuine.

I want to remember each birthday not for what I got, but for the special people in my life that find me worth spending time with. Maybe it needs to start with me...not on my birthday, but instead by making something truly special happen on the birthdays of those who are closest to me and try to revive the spirit of celebration that seems to have fallen to the wayside of consumerism. At least for now, my rebellious revolution will begin with simply removing my birthday from facebook...hopefully, I will not vanish into thin air for doing so.

On facing the road ahead...

2009-06-04T11:55:00.000-07:00

An analogy of how I feel, is much like that of completely wiping out while running and crashing on the ground, and being in pain, and for those minutes that you're lying there just really wishing that someone would come to your rescue. But then you realize that there's nobody around, and you're the one that has to tend your own wounds, try to get up, and limp back home. I know that the choice is mine to get back up, but by getting back up by myself means to acknowledge that there is no help coming. I think it's a part of adulthood that maybe everyone faces, but it's a bitter pill to swallow.

Home Sweet Home?

2008-11-03T20:05:00.000-08:00

For the first time since I moved to Raleigh, I'm finally starting to get this feeling like I belong here...like I'm in the right place. Some of that has to do with the fact that I actually have a job, and another part of it is that my "talents" come in handy around here...but I think the biggest factor is that I'm beginning to realize that my church family actually loves me and is as excited about me being here as I am about being with them.

Robert Frost Revisited

2008-10-15T20:45:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite poems ever, if not my all-time favorite, is "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. If you did not know this before, well, you do now.

Since reading it for the first time, it rang true within me. Even though I look about as straight-laced as Wally from "Leave it to Beaver," I love the idea of daring to be different from the norm and taking the unknown path in life.

Sometimes when this idea becomes reality, things can get a little scary.

In theory, being the guy that ventures on out to uncharted territory is cool...like Louis & Clark when they ventured out to the Western US, or Heisenberg when he defied Albert Einstein (I mean, you gotta have scruples to do that right?) and other brilliant minds with his wildly innovative (and now accepted) uncertainty principle in the first half of the 20th century.

If you're not O.M.G.-ing at my previous examples, then maybe these will help illustrate the type of feeling I'm trying to convey:

- Batman standing up to Gotham corruption.
- Abe Lincoln standing up against the slavery-dependent South.
- The little kid that freed Willy.

In reality, taking the unknown path in life is a little more complicated than the cool story that comes afterwards. When you actually start to take that unworn path, doubts come from all over.

Should I really be going this way? Does the path take a right or a left turn here? Why has this path not been blazed recently? Was that a tick? Should I turn around, go back, and re-think things?

I'm sure that the possibility of getting assassinated for his stance on things had crossed through Lincoln's mind, just like Batman probably wondered if he was gonna make it through the battle against the Joker...and we all know that without the miracle of CGI, Willy would have only landed on the little kid and then died, finalizing the movie's huge emotional build up (complete with Michael Jackson theme song) with extreme disappointment and lots of traumatized little kids leaving the theater.

For me, deciding against dentistry and choosing to stay in the area with the idea of developing a career out of ministry feels like I'm continuing on the unworn path even though I've just spotted bear tracks.

...as in the type that belong to KILLER BEARS!

---------------------------------------

"...and it has made all the difference."

Most people probably take this to mean that the character in the poem made it big...that he experienced lots of success landing him some sort of book deal, or documentary, or at least a village homecoming party.

Instead, I'm thinking that perhaps taking the unworn path makes such a huge difference because we learn just how much of a gift our lives are. First, this comes in the form of fear because a lot of times, it means leaving our comfort zones. Rather than flipping out over a mosquito orbiting your ear, we're thinking about that killer bear prowling about. We become thankful for each day.

After a while, we even start worrying a little less about the killer bear. As it turns out, a lot of the things we think we absolutely can't live without are really just extra layers of comfort.

Finally, we get to a point where we begin to see and enjoy how God provides for the things we really need, and then some. Aside from the fact that we're still alive and well while on this unknown path, we almost start preparing for the possibility that the bear might show up and juggle ping pong balls while riding on a unicycle.

For me, traveling the unknown path is about trusting in God's direction even when I have no clue where that is going. Right now, I feel like I've crossed over several sets of bear tracks. The doubt in me is just waiting for the killer claw to come out...but the faithful part of me just knows that what I'll get instead is the juggling bear act of a lifetime.

An anachronistic relation.

2008-10-06T12:28:00.000-07:00

The other day I went through the book of Jonah. I wonder if while sitting underneath the vine outside Nineveh he related well to Hamlet's most famous soliloquy. In case you don't recognize the scene below, it's the castle at Swamp Lake from Monty Python ("What, the curtains?"), which I also associate with Hamlet's dramatic flair.


To be, or not to be--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprise of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

- Excerpt taken from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare

...on music and dancing.

2008-10-05T17:18:00.000-07:00

Before you can make any sense out of this entry, I must tell you that I will use music and dancing almost interchangeably...not because they are one and the same, but because it can be assumed that any time there is music playing, there's a 99% chance that I'm dancing.

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These days I've started to wonder exactly why is it that I love dancing. I know relatively very few guys that share this passion as I do (actually, do I know any?), and unfortunately a lot of guys that dance seem to do it with motives entirely different from mine. For me, it's not about being sleazy, or about pride, or about any sort of horizontal anything...it's about the music and I.

But why?

Well, I think it's something like this. Music within my life is like stopping to eat dinner at a nice restaurant during a long trip where the rental car is cramped and has an a/c that is about as effective as a squirrel blowing air off an ice cube. You know, the kind of dinner experience that almost makes you forget that you have another 9+ hours to go. As soon as a great song (maybe even a cheesy song) comes on, there is an instant connection between the innermost alleles of my soul and each beat, phrase, measure, rhythm, and chord. Every bitter pill of the day, or week, or month, just gets dimmed out.

For me it's better than any amount of alcohol, or even a large tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I just put a song on, and whether it's a 3-minute 30-second session or an evening-long event, I forget about schedules, finances, worries, and insecurities.

Ultimately, I do end up facing the real Goliaths in my life...but at least when things seem to be at their worst, it buys me the time I need to gather my wits for the battle.

Not a good feeling.

2008-09-25T21:35:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get a little worried that November will come and I will lose my apartment once my savings account dries up. I suppose that's what I get for standing up for myself and doing what I thought was right...maybe I was way wrong.

The 60lb. Amerjack and the 4oz. Sardine

2008-07-20T21:02:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago, I had the chance to go on a deep-sea fishing trip with a very close friend of mine and his best buds (and about 30 other passengers). We got quite the experience during this 11-hour trip (which earned the nickname "pukefest 2008" and you can imagine why)...the ocean was a little more rocky than normal, the fish were hard to come by, and on the way back it felt like a hurricane poured down on us for the two hour ride back. When we kind of summarized the day on the ride back home, we ended up deciding that it was a great trip just because everything turned out to be so ridiculous that it was a hilarious and unforgettable experience.

Anyway, I share all of this with you because it serves as the background for my story about the 60lb. amerjack and the 4oz. sardine. I will begin with the 60lb. amerjack. About an hour into the fishing part of the trip, we heard a loud commotion on the other side of the boat with lots of people cheering, so out of curiosity, we all went over. This lady had somehow (and within the first hour and one of the first stops of the day) managed to catch a 60lb. amerjack. Good stinkin' grief...the thing was ridiculously big! Anyway, I got pretty excited, hoping to catch something even a third of that size.

Fast forward about 3 hours and take away about 15-20 passengers that were either knocked out or too green to fish: I was still fishing with great hope to catch something huge!

Fast forward another hour and take out an additional 5-10 passengers that had given up and joined the green people: I was begging God for a single good sized fish.

Now, fast forward to the final hour of fishing: I was begging God for anything, saying that I'd be happy just as long as I don't go home empty-handed. Just a few minutes later, I caught what seemed like one of those accidental catches that occur when you happen to bring up the reel at just the right moment and hook in a fish on the way up. The thing was maybe 4-5 inches long and so small that the hook actually must have killed it instantly, because it didn't even move when I unhooked it. For all I know, it could have been bait they threw out that I caught on the way up. Either way, I was excited, to the extent that I took a few pictures so I could at least prove that I caught something.

I ended up fishing (mostly waiting) about 5.5 hours before I ever caught anything...so I had plenty of time to think. As I sat there in the rocky boat, I started thinking about how much fishing is like waiting for the next step of direction in life.

Here's why:
1. Sometimes, it doesn't matter how right you think you do things, and how ready you feel for what you want to actually happen, the waiting can teach you more than if you got what you wanted right then and there. Waiting and waiting for hours made me realize that when I get impatient and try to take things into my own hands, I usually end up compromising my goals (like settling for Nemo when I went out looking for Moby Dick).

2. Plans that go awry can sometimes be the best possible outcome. I can't say that it wouldn't have been awesome to have caught fish-zilla on a bright and sunny day, but being able to share an extra raincoat with Aaron while we sat in the rain of a tropical storm laughing about how miserable we were reminded me just how much I love having him as a friend.

3. Success doesn't necessarily mean hitting it big. After watching all of my friends (and about 80% of the fishermen) become miserably nauseated and seasick, and after waiting for hours and hours with no catch, I was pretty thankful for not getting sick, and felt a little fishing satisfaction through my accidental catch...catching something, no matter how small, was kind of like the grand (or not quite as grand) finale to an adventure (even though I kinda felt bad for the poor little fish).

God is the Ultimate Genius.

2008-07-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my organic chemistry professor put this up on the screen and said: Can anyone tell me the name of this molecule?

After a while of complete silence, he identified it as Acetyl CoA (and as a Biology major, I bowed my head in shame). Even though I've drawn plenty of biochemical structures including DNA, ATP, and all that good stuff, my professors never required that we draw this structure (and now I see why). It took me about a good minute to even copy it down.

In case you aren't familiar with Acetyl CoA, this molecule is integral to all animal life. Perhaps its most well-known role is within a series of cellular reactions collectively known as cellular respiration. In simple terms, this molecule is partially the reason why we have to breathe and why burgers can deliver tons of energy to our bodies.

The thing that the professor was explaining to us briefly is that this molecule has to be reactive enough to take part in cellular respiration, but not too reactive or else it would react with the tons of water in our bodies and break up into little pieces.

In other words, it had to be perfect.

I'm sure there are plenty of cocky chemists out there that claim they could easily re-create this molecule...but that's because it already exists. To make something like this up from scratch is basically like trying to make Chicken Tikka Masala (or pretty much any Indian dish) without having any concept of spices.

A Right To Bear Arms.

2008-07-07T11:22:00.001-07:00

On Saturday afternoon I went along with a good buddy of mine and his best friend...they were each testing out their pistols (9mm glock & .45 colt I think).

After a little convincing and some gun safety instruction, I got talked into firing a single round from the 9mm, and I learned a few things:

1. Pistols are a lot louder in real life than I thought.

2. I'm actually more uncomfortable around guns than I thought.

3. I didn't really enjoy it, even though I love movies like Collateral & the Matrix.

As imperfect as humans are, should we really be entrusted with something that can deliver such destructive power so easily and be expected to not make a mistake? I don't know...and to be honest I'd rather not find out.

On a random side note, I love that graphic...it never fails to crack me up.

About a Dog

2008-06-30T22:02:00.000-07:00

Here is a cute beagle running on grass in the day.

Now, take away the grass,

replace the sunlight with moonlight,

...and put the middle of a country road as the background.

Then, about 10 feet away, put a Jeep Grand Cherokee heading towards it at about 50-55mph.

Now, put me in the driver's seat & add a "I never saw this coming" gasp.

At that moment, time seemed to slow down (like that scene from the car chase in "Wanted" where the car does this crazy sideways flip over a police barricade...in slow motion right up until the landing).

That instant, about 20 CDs flew into the air off of a spindle, the front of my car felt an incredible amount of force, and I pushed on the brake pedal until my knee kinda hurt.

The brakes made this gritty noise, alternating quickly with the sound of screeching tires.

I was waiting for it: a yelp, a thud, a bump, and a tear-invoking scene in the rear view.

...and then nothing happened. I (a little surprised) look to my left only to see the dog (still sprinting) through a series of bushes into his or her house.

It was at that moment that I thanked God that a. I've been driving slower to save on gas b. That the anti-lock brakes on the jeep deployed (it's the only family car with ABS) and c. that someone's pet didn't get seriously hurt. Whew!

I have no idea who Steven Wright is.

2008-06-28T20:56:00.000-07:00

I have no idea who the man is, but judging by some of his quotes, he might just be my new best friend.

Here are my three favorites:

"I think God's going to come down and pull civilization over for speeding."

"A lot of people are afraid of heights. Not me, I'm afraid of widths."

"Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect."

Hope you're having a great day!

Tenants, know your rights!

2008-06-27T21:44:00.000-07:00

Ever since working for the Dept. of Housing at UNC, I've learned that it pays off to read all the fine print and clean thoroughly after moving out. Why? Because that hole in the wall that you didn't report when you moved in may end up costing you a overpriced fee if you didn't read the fine print that told you how to document it correctly.

So, going from there to my first apartment, I read the contract from start to finish...and I had the wonderful luck that my property manager is one of those irresponsible and disorganized persons that quickly become a tenant's worst nightmare. In reality, he should have become a dog groomer, or an entertainer (no offense against either profession), anything but rental property manager. The good thing is that I've learned a whole lot about my legal rights as a tenant.

Below are two links, one which is this wonderful link to the North Carolina Department of Justice - Consumer Protection Division (which I've learned is who you'd complain to if you've been the victim of a shady business practice). The other is a site that I really hope takes off. I've made my contribution, and will continue to do so as long as I'm renting from someone with the hope that other people will be able to search and find great vs. not-so-great landlords to deal with. I believe that if landlords are going to try to shortchange you, they should be the ones that end up hurting economically from having a bad reputation. So, without further ado, here they are:

http://www.ncdoj.com/consumerprotection/cp_about.jsp

http://www.pickalandlord.com/

Enjoy!

Bambi's Not So Friendly Neighbors: Part 2

2008-05-30T20:03:00.000-07:00

...like I said, it's been like something out of National Geographic out at the apartment the last couple of weeks. This one, well, this felt a lot more like Man vs. Wild...so here goes:

One afternoon, I'm getting ready to load some stuff into my car to take to my sister's house, and I start to go out of the back entrance of the apartment (because it's somewhat closer to my car), and there's this 3-4ft black snake (with a somewhat faint white spotted pattern on its back) that is about 2 feet away.

My initial reaction: Run back inside!!!

So, as I try to figure out what to do, I tried to spook it away with a few random objects lying on the porch (nothing heavy...a few things to shoo it away it with to show it that it was un-welcomed). Well, rather than getting spooked, it started coming at me.

Then, it gave that "I'm threatened" pose where it curls up at the "neck" (if snakes have necks) in striking position. I thought I saw the characteristic triangle-shaped head of a venomous snake...and that's when the machete and the broom came out.

At first, I figured I'd distract it with the broom and then kill it with the machete...but then when I went outside, the adrenaline "fight" response kicked-in and I just started running towards it with alternating strikes from the broom and the machete striking the ground (picture this action like you would really bad karate chops). Apparently, it decided it had had enough and started fleeing.

...and then I somehow struck it with my machete. I believe I injured it pretty badly, even though it still escaped.

Later on through some internet research I realized that it was actually a rat snake and not venomous. I felt horrible, because even though that thing was pretty big, and probably dangerous to have around when it's not afraid of you enough to go away when it sees you, I had injured the creature that probably saved my apartment from mice & rats. I wish I had either just killed it, or left it alone rather than thinking that the poor thing probably suffered before it died later that day.

Sometimes, I feel like God tends to use nature to teach me things...probably because I love nature. I know...this sounds ironic after I just told you I mortally wounded a non-venomous snake...but this is an isolated incident (promise!).

Regardless, I think it says a lot about fear.

Sometimes, we fear things unnecessarily. The fear I experienced when I encountered that snake is the same fear that grips me when I worry about the future and all the what ifs (or what if nots) involved. It's the same fear I get when worrying excessively about making a living, the fear of being too weird to fit in, and the fear of taking a necessary risk.

What does fear really do? Well, one possibility is that it can move us into action...usually either you stay and fight, or you take off running. The other possibility is that it paralyzes you. In my opinion, neither is usually good.

When we take action out of fear, our actions are usually the result of a rash or irrational decision and can lead to us doing things we regret...like my machete striking that poor snake even though it did nothing other than give me a good scare. When fear paralyzes us...we let whatever we're afraid of continue to inflict fear, and disengage from doing anything about it. It would have been like me just standing out there 2 feet away from the snake that was coming towards me and not doing something to prevent a defensive (or even offensive...who knows, it could have been hungry!) bite.

I realize that you can't generalize fear as a wholly bad thing, and in this case I'm talking about fearing things we can't control.

What if I never get into dental school? What if I can't get a job? What if I created much more difficult obstacles for myself to now have to overcome due to past regrettable decisions? What if I take a risk and it doesn't work out?

If you read Psalms, David constantly reminds us that even our greatest fears (& worries) are nothing compared to God. Maybe David worried about his fears like I do and needed constant self-reminders...or perhaps he grew quickly in wisdom and was just passing on the information. The point is, God is simply bigger than any of our obstacles, and in the same way, He's bigger than our greatest fears.

I have to remind myself every day to trust that He's good, that He's in control, and that He's bigger than even the worst of nightmares.

Bambi's Not So Friendly Neighbors: Part 1.

2008-05-20T21:01:00.000-07:00

The last several weeks have felt like a live episode of National Geographic. If you've read one of my first entries, you'll know that living in this apartment has meant some awkward encounters with Bambi & friends. To share some of my most memorable encounters with nature since then, here's a few:

The Fox

One afternoon I actually spotted a fox about 10 ft. from me and my car as it went across some lawn into the woods. I was actually pretty excited (and sad that I didn't have a camera on me)...I'd never been that close to a fox before. Apparently, it didn't see me as a threat because it stopped, glanced at me, and then went on its merry way. Either way, it was small enough that I could have probably punted it into the woods if I had to. Don't worry, I love animals...but in a survival situation, I'm not above punting.

The Geese

One Sunday as I left Truelife Church (in a fairly commercial area of Raleigh), there were two Canadian geese just chilling right outside the entrance. At first I thought they were those plastic fake geese that people put out in front of their lawns (although I did wonder why either a Pump It Up Kid's playspace or a minimalist/modern furniture store would want to put out fake Canada geese in their lawn)...and then one of them started honking and making threatening gestures at me while the other one completely ignored me and went to town on engulfing patch of grass. I did snap a picture while the geese were still friendly, however.

The Spider

The other week, while getting off an exit ramp from the highway, a glimmer of yellow showed up momentarily at the edge of the bill on my baseball cap. I became a little concerned because I knew that the glimmer of yellow was neither a) the sun nor b) a golden lock of hair belonging to me...because I was in the car (thus no direct sunlight) and I don't have either golden or long hair. I get to a stoplight, took my cap off to inspect it, and AAAAH!...out of nowhere a medium-sized, golden-yellow spider appeared on top of my cap. If you know me, you know that spiders and I aren't exactly friends...so I spazzed out and threw the hat across the car into the passenger floor mat. I have to say that whoever was next to me at the stoplight at this point must have laughed hysterically at the inconvenient situation that had developed inside my car. I'm happy to say that once I got to my sister's house, I disposed of the spider...although I always check my caps now to make sure there are no spiders on them.

The (Flying) Squirrel

One of my favorite nature moments happened one morning as I went to clean the window to my room from the outside of the apartment.

Here's how it went down (no pun intended): It was around 8AM, and I went outside to finish up my moving out cleaning. All of a sudden, there's this squirrel flying diagonally overhead, seemingly out of nowhere. Apparently, it was sneaking around on the balcony above me and I startled it.

The squirrel startled me in return as it completely missed the tree branch and flopped onto the grass. A little dazed, it took a moment, then hopped up suddenly (as if remembering that it was running away) and ran into the woods. I have to admit that I laughed pretty hard at the poor fella's flying jump miscalculation.

Well, that's it for now!

The Scotland Experience

2008-04-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

So, I just thought I'd put up a link to the Scotland Missions Trip blog. Partially while in Scotland, and partially right afterwards, I wrote a series of blog entries for each day that the team spend there, marking some of the highlights of what we did and what we learned.

To go to it, just click here.

I hope you enjoy it.

Saludos,
- Greg

The pencil

2008-02-06T15:55:00.000-08:00

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world."
- Mother Teresa

I first heard this quote from a speaker at the Southeast Chi Alpha SALT conference, and I find it to be pretty profound & inspiring to the kind of person that I want to be.

Isaiah 52:12

2008-02-06T15:51:00.000-08:00

One weekend during my freshman year of college, I was visiting a friend back home. My parents were concerned with me getting home so late, so they asked me to try to be home around eleven that night. As always tends to happen when you're having fun, time flew by and when I realized it, it was eleven and I was still at my friend's house. Because he lived about 15 minutes away, I rushed off and was worried about getting home way later than what my parents had asked...so I decided that speeding was my way to get home a little quicker. Obviously, with my parents being concerned over my safety, this was not the most well-thought-out decision, but I just didn't want to get home and have mom and dad worried just because I'd forgotten to leave early enough.

I sped through the first two or three miles, turned onto my shortcut, and started speeding again. I was approaching an intersection that is always empty, and the thought crossed my mind that maybe just that once, I should run that stop sign and save a few seconds.

It's not like anybody ever uses that side road anyway.

I start to speed up, get a little closer to the intersection, and then something kicks in...maybe my conscience...and tells me to stop at the stop sign even though I don't see a soul in any direction. Considering it's the law to stop at stop signs, it didn't take me very long to convince myself to stop. I was already late anyway, so if there was going to be a ruckus about me getting home late it would still be waiting for me if I got there at 11:20 or 11:23.

I stop at the intersection, and sure enough, some obscure little pick-up truck that I hadn't spotted whooshed by...making it the first time I'd ever seen a moving vehicle on that road. I was a little freaked out to say the least due to my poor judgment that presided in the moments before stopping, and then the words "Isaiah 52:12" popped into my head. I was like..."OK Greg, you have been reading the Left Behind series too much."

I start driving again, this time being smart about it and not speeding. I keep thinking about this random verse, and then I figured, what the heck, why not look it up when I got home...just in case. Worst-case scenario it would be some passage quoting levitical law about how to get rid of mildew on your walls. So I repeated and repeated the book, chapter, and verse and finally got home.

I opened the door expecting a ruckus, and instead the only ruckus I could hear was my dad giving his regular evening concerto (a.k.a. snoring). I get to my room and look up what this "Isaiah 52:12" had to say, and I was like...wow, this is so much better than mildew removal instructions:

"But you will not leave in haste or go in flight;
for the LORD will go before you,
the God of Israel will be your rear guard."

I highlighted this verse in my Bible that night and revisit it from time to time. In addition to its obvious meaning to me then, it now serves as a constant reminder (because I tend to forget) to trust God, and know that I am not alone. I don't have to worry so much about the future, even though I choose to do so anyway at times, because God is handling that.

You might be thinking that this "trusting God and not worrying" would make it justifiable to sit and do nothing, waiting for God to just plop your future on your lap without you undergoing any effort.

Here's my thought process on that.

There is no point to God going before me if I'm not going anywhere, and even less of a point for Him to be my rear guard when I'm not doing anything that would merit protection. The responsibility to work hard and be in constant pursuit of Him is mine.

I have to take that step and trust that He will be there every time.

Krispy Kreme Challenge

2008-01-26T22:53:00.000-08:00

I finally checked the results from the Krispy Kreme Challenge (which took place on the posting date of this entry, although this entry was finished later), and I didn't make it into the hour cut-off to be considered a successful challenger. I ended up being 2 minutes over the hour mark according to their timing, although a few minutes definitely passed of just waiting in line for everyone else to start running, so maybe I did complete it based on my actual start time vs. the gun time. Either way, it was a lot of fun to get to go with some of the guys (Kemp, Tom, Reklis, Doc) and take on the challenge.

In case you're unfamiliar with this event, the Krispy Kreme Challenge is a yearly competition at N.C. State that raises money for the NC Children's hospital.

The challenge itself consists of:
1. Running 2 miles from the N.C. State bell tower to the Krispy Kreme in downtown Raleigh.
2. Eating 1 dozen donuts.
3. Running the 2 miles back to the bell tower.
...all within an hour.

By the way, 1 dozen = 2,400 Calories.

It was definitely worth it considering that the event raised something like 20k for the Children's Hospital. PLUS, I learned two very important things about myself: That I can actually eat a dozen donuts...and that, given the option, I would rather not.

The nicest thing...

2008-01-26T22:41:00.000-08:00

It was late on Friday night, and I was driving back home from campus after some Chi Alpha related work. I chose to drive home on a slightly different route than the one I normally take, probably because I wanted to see which of the two was quicker from that side of campus.

I drove down Franklin St., noticing the usual Friday night activity...people going from one bar to another, a few really dedicated late-night runners, a few people stumbling around and being really loud, and a big line of people that decided to hit up Qdoba to quench an apparent late-night burrito craving. I get past the main part of Franklin, the activity level and sound dies out, and turn onto my "shortcut" street.

A little ways down, I spot this couple making their way towards Franklin St. on foot but having some difficulty. The sight gets even more interesting when all of a sudden I see this guy sort of lift the girl onto his back and try to carry her "piggy-back" style. She couldn't hold on and instead rolled off of his back very ungracefully.

I passed the rather interesting scene, thinking "wow, I think they've had a little too much to drink."

...and then came the nudge.

This nudge said, "turn around and go help them."

Part of me just wanted to keep going on my merry way home (I could even hear my bed calling my name), but that feeling of "I should do this" quickly overpowered that battle. So I turn around at the next intersection and start back-tracking...and sure enough just a little bit ahead was this guy still trying to carry this girl on his back.

I roll down the window. "Would you guys like a ride?"

Guy: "Oh my God, are you serious?...really?"
Girl: "are you sure you don't mind?"
Me: "sure, hop in."

As it turns out, they were on their way to some place on Franklin that I'd never heard of, and the girl had twisted her ankle wearing 3-inch heels. I asked them where they were going, and drove them the rest of the way.

This guy, who's name I remember being Juan, was really surprised and thankful and voiced this several times. This is probably because he had been drinking. But he said something to me that really struck me.

"This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me."

All that was going through my mind then was "I really hope that's not true." I mean, after all, it was just a short ride, maybe two miles down the road. I wanted to tell them that this act of kindness was really because God asked me to share my blessing of having a car with them. I wondered if either of them had ever been genuinely spoken to about God. I wondered if I should say something. Once again, that nudging came in and said "Nope, don't explain."

Juan and his female friend got out of the car, said thanks, and they were gone. I haven't seen them since.

I think that as Christians, we feel like we have this duty of performing a certain type of "evangelism" and we make it into this really complicated thing. We think that we must have this sermon prepared at all times...always being ready to cram "Jesus" down people's throat and put them on the spot to have this "conversion" experience right then and there. When the awkward moment comes, either we go for it and deliver our practiced sermonette or we end up feeling guilty because we've "failed" to share the gospel. Meanwhile, our poor friend sitting across the table, having just heard this religion-in-a-bottle, is probably wondering what to do as we wait for them to respond dramatically to something that sounded about as dry and formulaic as the Pythagorean theorem.

I admit, any time the word evangelism came up, this was the idea that I got; however, I've recently started to think that this [sermon + cram = conversion] formula isn't exactly what Jesus had in mind when he commanded us to go and share the gospel.

Here's why I believe this "formula" view of evangelism fails. It leaves God out of the formula. We're taking the responsibility of people's salvation onto ourselves and think that unless we get a conversion right there and then, our friend or acquaintance is more or less doomed.

I've come to believe that evangelism involves a lot more listening than it does speaking. If we believe in a God that is all-knowing, then surely we must believe that He knows a lot more than we do. So then it would make sense that we should listen for his guidance and realize that most times evangelism happens through a community of believers.

Perhaps Juan has an aunt somewhere that was praying for him to be blessed...I happened to be coming by and God was like "Greg, you're hired!" For all I know, another random driver got a similar nudge to offer them a ride home afterward. Since I'm talking about evangelism here, let me clarify that I am not assuming that because Juan was drunk that automatically meant that he isn't "saved." However, I do believe that God calls us to sometimes bless others in practical ways, and within these moments God can reveal his nature to someone who needs to be reminded of it or see it for the first time.

In an ideal world, Juan got up the next day, wondered why he got these rides, called up his Aunt and share the story, and they had a wonderful conversation about God's unlimited love and provision. It is likely, however, that God will have to enlist many others before this realization comes about.

The point that I'm learning is...let God do the organizing, and just worry about paying attention. Sometimes his direction will involve starting conversations about God, but sometimes it might be about a simple request, like giving someone a free car ride.

My encounter with Bambi (and friends)

2008-01-23T22:40:00.000-08:00

I used to think that my apartment complex was slightly dangerous, and then I found ten deer grazing around my car.

It was on the Sunday afternoon/evening when it got down to about 9 degrees Fahrenheit, and it had snowed the previous day. I had to run to campus, and there was ice on the sidewalks.

I left my apartment, and started making my way out to the parking lot with my eyes fixed on the frozen ground below, desperately trying to avoid skating across the sidewalk.

After sliding prudently across the most dangerous part, I decided to look up.

Staring straight at me from about 10 feet away was a large doe...probably wondering what the heck I was doing on the sidewalk. A little startled by the encounter, I look around, and sure enough, ten deer were just casually grazing around my car (and the little parking lot) while keeping an eye on me. Apparently they assumed me to be suspicious, and the one big doe lifted its tail, gave the warning sign, and the ten deer casually dropped their grass and jogged to safety.

Since then, I've spotted them from time to time, although not quite that numerous, and not as closely or as memorably as that time...

Maybe this is God trying to tell me that I shouldn't be worried about safety so much...or maybe the deer are less paranoid than I am. Either way, it's nice to have good company around to let me know things are ok...even if they eat my bushes.