Honor - Unsung

To my father, as thanksgiving on the anniversary of his birth.
I hold much love, for his patient smile, his joyous mirth.
His laughter and thrill at life as it is. -
Trained me to see blessings with eyes filled with bliss.
He raised me up, his firstborn son.
He bought a basketball goal in hopes of what I might become.
Though I still love that game, my younger brother's passion for it is more inflamed.
For I was also my mother's child, her love of books passed strongly with style.
My father loved sports from a young age.
A scrappy mop-topped twin, though susceptible to rage.
He overcame his temper with discipline and prayer,
And taught me long-suffering when my own anger brought me there.
I wonder how he raised me as he did.
I have nothing but fond memories when I was a kid.
Snipping my nasty habits in the bud before they grew
The moments of discipline pruned the old, kept the new.
I know am frustrating to converse with sometimes, holding my cards close to my chest.
My father waits for my play, he knows my potential best.

He trained himself as a thinker, analyzing for his career.
He is logical and methodical, doesn't play things by ear.
From a young age, the Word of God was his study.
Gifted with great memory, it kept his heart from being muddied.
That same faculty was passed on to me, his counsel and wisdom saved me from the pull of vain philosophies.
These verses I write cannot fully communicate,
The life of the man who trained me in the way narrow and straight.
He is an example for me to follow without fear or shame.
I am quite honored that I will ever bear his name.
No matter how far I fight and stubbornly push for my way.
He loves me deeply, and won't let me stray.
I owe God so much for giving Him life years ago to this day.

Use - Eyes

It is nice that my father's birthday conveniently falls upon tomorrow, my day in which I try my hand at spontaneous poetry. I hope to honor him well, as he is quite an amazing fellow. I know that all children look to their dads at some point and think him great, but it is still true in my case. The years have only served to deepen my appreciation for my father and all the love and patience he has bestowed in guiding my life. A lot of this sentiment will flow in the following post, if God grants me the wit and clarity to express it in words.

This day went remarkably well, alternately working small tasks, listening to Leon Patillo's "Dance Children Dance" which I bought as a gift for tomorrow, and reading short essays by James Thurber. Thurber never ceases to delight me, as with P.G. Wodehouse's whims of fate, so with Thurber's daydreaming a supposed timidity away. His "Snapshot of a Dog" piece is particularly good, for the reason that Thurber is nostalgically fond of its subject. "The dog that bit people" is humorous in its accuracy - I have held the acquaintance of such miserable specimens before. Those are my thoughts for today, until tomorrow's sunrise, I leave you.

Affliction - Experience

"Not much for conversation, I still find need to pray. Sometimes I get tired of walking through these ordinary days. If nothing else I get to see you, even if we never speak. The harm of words, though sometimes We don't quite know what they really mean.
I don't know where, I don't know how, I don't know why. But your love can make these things better.
So let me lay down in this field and stare up at the sky. I hope the days and clouds turn into something as they pass us by. And maybe you could settle for a skyline faded blue. I hope that you might settle for this love I have for you." - Jars of Clay "These Ordinary Days" (Eleventh Hour)

I rest in the knowledge that although the weather has been hot and humid, there is the breeze to abate overheating. In all the everyday obstacles and problems, there are small blessings and beauty as well. I will not be blindly advising you to sardonically smile in the face of hardship, but to be mindful of what you can learn through its duration. Maybe you will weather it better the next time a similar problem arises. Possibly you may cross paths with another struggling with the same emotions, and an opportunity to empathize will open. The world isn't against any one person in particular, so do not wallow in self pity or woe. Set your face like a flint and your shoulders to bear burdens for others. Even if they do not reciprocate, your actions will be observed by bystanding innocents - setting an example for how a life is to be lived.

"And he sat down, and called the twelve, and saith unto them, If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all." - Mark 9:35

"And whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be servant of all." - Mark 10:44

"And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust." - Matthew 5:40-45

1337- 9000+ - 5555

All the above numbers have side meanings according to the internet.
The first is "elite" in gamer vocabulary, the highest honor and designation, a Master statistic.
The Second is derived from a Dragon Ball Z episode in which a character's power level is "over 9000," an outrageous measuring system for ki - Japanese mental focus.
5555 is primarily claimed by Daft Punk's animated film, "Interstellar 5555 - 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem." A immortal gains world ending power upon obtaining five-thousand-five-hundred-fifty-five golden records. Absurd idea, but also an incredible one.

Numbers are fundamentally unemotional, but for the stories and significance people attached to them. Words may be strung together to make beautiful prose or cutting commentary to the human condition. Numbers are used to measure, calculate, and qualify our progress throughout life. It is a human mindset to attach significance to objects surrounding their everyday lives - it makes them notable and thus easier to care about.

However, we also have a tendency to extend this to people in the form of stereotypes - Which are handy, even eerily accurate at times, but are not definitive measures of individual people. For once we can categorize, we can trivialize, and stop taking note of new data or trends. By the time the person or object changes through time's processes, we merely glance and update our labels of them.

We cannot conceive the totality of another human being in its complexity - its whims, its habits, its loves. Humans are beautiful, fragile, and vivacious, seizing the moment and carrying the day. Yet we fear what others think of our actions, what they will call us. I will attempt to live in the wonder of free will and the dignity of being made in the image of God. For though we may attach meaning and stories to the objects around us, it is poor form to treat meaningful and living people as if they were objects.

Turntable - Replay

I don't play an instrument, but I do enjoy listening to them. Some people purport taking music seriously, but play it as a soundtrack, a background noise to their life. I don't do things halfway - if there is a song I like, I want to listen and share it with others. It is cliche to say I like all music, for I do not - risque beats and obscene lyrical hooks have no welcome purchase in my mind.

Enjoyment of music is an odd human convention. Sure, birds and creatures use their gifts to fill the air with the symphony of their noise, but humans use tools to create and arrange their musical compositions. We use objects that we do not naturally have in order to resonate sounds we find exciting, soothing, or curious to our ears and heartbeat.

I don't have much to say today, so I will list my current 25 favorite songs in no particular order.

1. Goodbye, Goodnight - Jars of Clay
2. Peace (Communion Blessing in St. Joseph's Square) - Rich Mullins
3. Ready for the Storm - Rich Mullins
4. I'll Carry On - Rich Mullins
5. Unwinding Cable Car - Anberlin
6. Lullaby for a Stormy Night - Vienna Teng
7. When the Rain Comes - Third Day
8. Show Me Your Glory - Third Day
9. Mile Away - Capital Lights
10. Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance
11. 100 Years - Five For Fighting
12. This is Home (Switchfoot Greatest Hits album version) - Switchfoot
13. Drunken Lullabies - Flogging Molly
14. God's Own Fool - Michael Card
15. The Little Girl - John Michael Montgomery
16. Chronicles of Life and Death - Good Charlotte
17. No One Like You - David Crowder Band
18. Foreverandeverandeveretc. - David Crowder Band
19. Sing of your Mercy (Valley Song) - Jars of Clay
20. Frail - Jars of Clay
21. Everybody's Changing - Keane
22. Storm - Lifehouse
23. Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park
24. Leave Out All the Rest - Linkin Park
25. Be with You - Rich Mullins

This is merely a jumble of what I see on iTunes, sedimentary songs flowing like rivers through familiar ruts in my mind, and hopes for future enjoyment.

Reunion - Felt

I saw a video today about the unfortunate souls in other countries, and my heart went out to the children. But what can I do about this feeling? How can I make a difference with my station in life?

There are children just as desperate and needy within the confines of America, but they aren't looked upon in the same light. When I went out of country, I noticed the homeless more keenly than when walking downtown stateside. I am conditioned by the dictates of common sense that many who panhandle for money don't really need it.

But I do know that there exist others who would and could need a hand up, a boost to succeed in life. How can I tell? How can I help? I am told to distrust these people I see, but am I turning away from a needy person or from a societal parasite? I am told that those who want work can get it, that those who have a good attitude and a willingness to serve faithfully will receive their due. I am told that this is one reason why immigrants and internationals are working American jobs - they will work harder and be grateful for opportunities as they arise.

I am not calling Americans out on being lazy or shiftless, though many are; I just happen to think that we have become a proud and blind nation. We are a country of people with a sense of entitlement - we "deserve" a good salaried position upon graduation. That there are jobs beneath our dignity and education. I have friends who graduate from college, get a job, then dump it for a better paying one a couple of months later. This "pads" their resumes and gives them the impression for "versatility." Businesses outside America often don't share this mentality. You get a job for some Japanese corporations, and you are loyal for life. These entities treat their workers as their most important resource, above even profit.

Faithful workers are created when they know that their employers are looking out for them, that they have something towards which to work - a common goal. Christian businesses should ideally operate in this way, we are to be as servants to all. My own knowledge of these matters may be incomplete, naive, and even foolish. But some ideals are worth the fighting, worth the hope that arises in my heart. But I cannot give what I myself do not possess, so I must use this period in my life to study and learn such skills that will position me to do so.

I must work to provide for myself and my needs before I can serve the lives of others. I hope that the world still accepts loyalty, faithfulness, and commitment as desirable attributes when that day comes.

Work - Rest.

I was awaiting today with much excitement and vigor - I was to rejoin my former companions in a day of labor. I was too old to be considered for the long haul of the week long grind of volunteering, but this last day, I was allowed to participate. It was more of a treat to labor alongside my father than even my young friends. It is such a blessing to have such an active and enthusiastic father, one who takes the time to do these things with me. The weather was been intense and humid, averaging nearly 100 degrees. Into this environment, my friends and I armed ourselves with mowers, trimmers, and loppers to tame an injured friend's unruly yard.

The last 30 minutes of my efforts were spent culling the tall weeds and grass with a push mower. Up and down slight inclines and corners where branches brushed my face. Finally, I completed my rounds, crying in triumph at my accomplishment. I am quite grateful that this landscaping is for a good purpose, for I am not up to pursuing this as a career.

Man was made to work, to enjoy the process of reaping the fruits of his labor. In doing so, he may feel justified and content that he has earned his period of rest and recuperation. That is what I plan to do - to recoup my strength, and sally forth again to essay some other task.

Much respect for those who do engage in the business of landscaping. I salute you! Now to shower...