I had a thought come to me today that I'd like to write about. Except I don't remember what it was which has me frustrated with this whole old age thing. That's gotta be it, right? The old pumpkins missing some seeds? I'm also fatter, balder and wake up with more aches and pains than I could have imagined. That's the problem with being 20, you think it'll never happen to you, but just wait. And we ignore the signs. People should be more honest. "Of COURSE that dress makes you look fat!" or "no dear that wasn't the porch, it was your knees making that noise". So I guess I can diet and exercise from the neck down but what to do from the neck up? Sudoku?
I was at a prayer thingy the other night listening to others pray and I'm just trying to listen. For my Dad. I don't really listen to others much on account of they ain't talking to me. I always laugh when some one says "speak up, we can't hear you". Somebody threw out some scripture and some one else said something which I don't remember (the brain thing again) but some thought came to mind about praying to hear my Dads voice. I don't know how you pray in a group (I don't really like to) but I just get quiet in my own mind and say "what do You want me to ask for" and I wait. I get nothing lots of times but sometimes I'll get a thought and I'll start asking Him about it and before long I have this conversation but then don't want to say it out loud because it's like giving a speech to all the others about what I already talked about. Geez. I'm so messed up....
Treasure hunt. That's a word Dad gave someone while I was making my speech. When we were through he said to me that God has a treasure hunt for me. He didn't know what it means but he'd like to hunt with me so we're going to meet for coffee and try to figure it out.
Driving in my van today I was thinking about treasure and how my Dad is a treasure. He surely is but I feel so hollow saying that because my friendship with Him doesn't really reflect that. I'm embarrassed to say I feel as far away from Him as I ever have. I've been in a desert for quite a while now (maybe of my own making) and He just seem....distant. Not real. How do you get to the point that He's not real? I know he is (real) and it's why we still talk but it feels like a one way conversation. I hear He's got a book out so I may go to the library and check it out. Anyway He said to me (I think) "What if everything was gold" as in "streets of gold kind" of thing. Something so common you didn't even notice it anymore. It's still gold, precious and valuable. Just not noticed anymore.
So maybe that's the treasure hunt - rediscovering the priceless in the mundane. I sure would like to find Him again. To really really love Him again. I'm meeting my friend for coffee tomorrow morning and we'll set off on an adventure to...well, I guess not to a where but to a who. Pray for me. I do so value what you have to say to Him about me. Thanks
Friday, September 9, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Buildings
They're making Tinker toys out of wood again much to my relief. For a while there they were making them out of plastic. Some things shouldn't change. Like toys. It bugs me that Tonka trucks are made of plastic. Erector sets? Plastic. That's a crime. Lincoln logs thankfully are still made of wood. They are aren't they? I remember my first Erector set, all metal and about the size of a deck of cards. They crammed a lot in that little box. I never built anything recognizable 'cause I'm mentally retarded but it kept me busy until I lost most of the pieces, which was probably an hour. I was 5.
I was talking to a friend and pondering how we turn out. How when we're teens or college students and we think about how we'll be when we're all grown up and we imagine only good stuff. But few of us make it to grown-up-hood on the path we imagined nor does it look like we imagined. Well, mine didn't. Really, I don't think I had a path in mind nor what I'd look like. Somehow I imagined more hair and less gut though. I have the ability to be able to not think past next week which is probably how I got here. Think it's time to think in bigger chunks. Maybe a month at a time.
They built 4 stories of an 8 story building here in town and then ran out of money. Oops. During the 80's and 90's I'd go to Orlando a few times a year and there was this condo that had the same problem I guess. It was 10 or 15 stories and just a concrete shell that seemed to get a little dingier each time I saw it and eventually started to have vines creeping up the sides. It was a shame really. I love tall buildings and to see such a strong structure disappear behind neglect and poor planning was a crime. Look at me, I'm starting to cry. Somebody did come up with some money I think because I came back one day and it was finished and looked pretty sharp.
So I built things with my erector set and tinker toys. Structures, buildings. But just the shell of a building because there wasn't anything to put on it like walls, windows doors. Think that came later with the Legos that I never got. Thanks mom. But they were pretty awesome looking to me.
My Dad builds structures too. Of flesh and bone and personality. Of spirit. Strong structures. I got to see a lot of them in college and I was so impressed with His handy work. I still am. It's around this time I think we start adorning our building, putting on an education, a career, a spouse, children, homes...or at least how we start out. For some of us we now live in a gleaming glass tower of person-hood with fountains and nice landscape. Others of us it's a good solid office building, nothing fancy but it works. And some of us, well, our structure looks like the building in Orlando. Covered in dirt and mold and vines so that now people hardly recognize what's underneath. Sometimes it's our fault. Sometimes life just gets dumped on us. But no matter. It's what's below the glass or vines. It's the foundation, the building. That My Dad built. Such a good work. He is so good.
I wrote this for me, kinda typing therapy. Not real happy with the way my building looks after 47 years and I wish it were different in places. I know life is a work in progress all the way through and I keep working but some days I just cry. It's pretty hard and sometimes lonely. But I am somebody special, if to nobody else, my Dad. He is so good to me and He built a great structure on which I hope to hang something special enough to garner Him much applause and praise.It's never too late, for me or you.
I was talking to a friend and pondering how we turn out. How when we're teens or college students and we think about how we'll be when we're all grown up and we imagine only good stuff. But few of us make it to grown-up-hood on the path we imagined nor does it look like we imagined. Well, mine didn't. Really, I don't think I had a path in mind nor what I'd look like. Somehow I imagined more hair and less gut though. I have the ability to be able to not think past next week which is probably how I got here. Think it's time to think in bigger chunks. Maybe a month at a time.
They built 4 stories of an 8 story building here in town and then ran out of money. Oops. During the 80's and 90's I'd go to Orlando a few times a year and there was this condo that had the same problem I guess. It was 10 or 15 stories and just a concrete shell that seemed to get a little dingier each time I saw it and eventually started to have vines creeping up the sides. It was a shame really. I love tall buildings and to see such a strong structure disappear behind neglect and poor planning was a crime. Look at me, I'm starting to cry. Somebody did come up with some money I think because I came back one day and it was finished and looked pretty sharp.
So I built things with my erector set and tinker toys. Structures, buildings. But just the shell of a building because there wasn't anything to put on it like walls, windows doors. Think that came later with the Legos that I never got. Thanks mom. But they were pretty awesome looking to me.
My Dad builds structures too. Of flesh and bone and personality. Of spirit. Strong structures. I got to see a lot of them in college and I was so impressed with His handy work. I still am. It's around this time I think we start adorning our building, putting on an education, a career, a spouse, children, homes...or at least how we start out. For some of us we now live in a gleaming glass tower of person-hood with fountains and nice landscape. Others of us it's a good solid office building, nothing fancy but it works. And some of us, well, our structure looks like the building in Orlando. Covered in dirt and mold and vines so that now people hardly recognize what's underneath. Sometimes it's our fault. Sometimes life just gets dumped on us. But no matter. It's what's below the glass or vines. It's the foundation, the building. That My Dad built. Such a good work. He is so good.
I wrote this for me, kinda typing therapy. Not real happy with the way my building looks after 47 years and I wish it were different in places. I know life is a work in progress all the way through and I keep working but some days I just cry. It's pretty hard and sometimes lonely. But I am somebody special, if to nobody else, my Dad. He is so good to me and He built a great structure on which I hope to hang something special enough to garner Him much applause and praise.It's never too late, for me or you.
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