A Servant's Life

Time is a funny concept, seriously it is. Let’s think about it for a bit. We often hear the infamous quote “Time heals all wounds.” Well when you’re in the mist of bleeding, those words are like vinegar to a thirsty dessert traveler. It’s painful to hear. As for the person who is telling you that, you being to wonder if they at all know the meaning of empathy. 

“Why are they kicking me while I’m down?” “Don’t they understand words like that holds no weight to me right now?” 

Yet, they are spoken. Those words are shared and told, usually with experiences, stories, heartbreaks behind them. But they aren’t conveyed to well with those four words. 

I’ve been on both fronts, heartbroken and trying to mend broken hearts. Let me tell you, I am no strangers to these lifeless comments, that hold no weight unless the stories behind them are told. Being the victim of these, doesn’t feel too good either! 

Replaying freshly made memories whether they be bad or good, has so many aspects to them. You can physically feel them. You can audibly hear them. You can smell the scents that once recently danced in your nostrils. 

But as time goes, so does all those physical senses. There’s another aspect that we associate with them, and that’s songs, playlist, albums. 

I’ve spoken about music having the transportive power to place you right back in those memories of days past. Like feeling the reminiscent healed scars on a once broken heart. 

I was reminded through old playlist, of the man that I once was. How scared I was about the future, how dumb I was to not accept help and let my family and friends in, how broken I was. 

Now this is not to say that I’m not broken anymore, I still am but in different ways. 

But it was so surreal when I began to look through carefully selected songs that appeased my soul, and how they came together to pull me through situations. Whether they be my Disney inspired vibe. With party started like “Hakuna Matata,” and “I’ll make a man out of you.” All the way to “That” playlist (a carefully worded breakup playlist). Filled with immaturely named songs like “Lonely” by Akon, or “Cold Water” by Damien Rice. 

That takes me to the questions that sits on my mind when I first looked at these past playlists. What is the need of a break up playlist if you’re happy? Or when you aren’t planning on having another break up, ever? Because you’ve found the one that you want to spend the rest of your life with, and they with you. 

It’s funny when I look back in time, to look forward in time one thing in particular comes to mind. 1984, a book written by James Orwell published in 1949. In high school this was a required reading. It depicted a dystopian future of what could have been. Fast forward to todays age, where this type of writing is the trend as of the 2010′s. 

My question spans across each illustrative narrative, and might sound a bit reminiscent of Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight, why so serious? Why so bleak? 

It’s almost if they’ve taken the evilness in the hearts of men then exemplified it by the advancements in future day technology. Then shows how that ‘ruins’ the world that we live in. 

Being in the technology sector, I see stories like these and it keeps me cautious of the ‘what might’ and the ‘what could.’ Then there is always a split second that I think, is what I’m creating the building blocks of this narrative? 

Nah...

Of course not, me teaching the fundamentals to computer science to kids and teachers could not result in the the downfall of the human race... or can it...

I look to my left and my roommate is 3D printing artificial limbs. I look to my right and my brother is building lasers for oil wells. I am floored, absolutely floored about how ‘we; are changing the world everyday. 

I can’t believe I’m writing another one of these less than 2 weeks apart. I didn’t know that 2016 would start of with the end of friend and family lives. It really pains my heart to know that families have to go through what I had just been through. 

This past week I went to my first funeral, and I really hope that it would be my last, I cannot comprehend the struggle it is to have to bury multiple loved ones. Honestly, It’s a pain that I wish upon no one. And my heart really goes out the the Smith family, we lost a bulldog. 

To some a friend, a brother. To his parents, a son. To his wife, a husband. Andrew to me was the first person I met at Butler. Now, I have this thing where I differentiate two groups of people in my life. Those that my brother introduced me to, and the ones that I took initiative and introduced myself to. Andrew, he was the first for me. 

I remember it like it was yesterday, I just moved into my dorm scared to open my door to the world beyond. But I got an email, from our faculty in residence ( “FIR” is what they were known as). There was a struggle that ensued within me. Whether to stay in this safe bubble that I just moved into, or to be in the presence of people I didn’t know. I did the latter. Let me tell you it still is one of my top memories at Butler. 

I entered into our FIR’s house, dancing with a smell that I would soon become all too familiar with, Taco bell. You see our FIR’s would have these events called “Taco Tuesday.” They would order tons of tacos from Taco Bell, and the residents would come and commune together. This night wasn’t like any other nights. This night no one showed. Except for Andrew, Elizabeth, and myself. That night I met two really nice people. Till this day I’m so glad I did. 

Andrew had a hard fought battle with cancer, and as I write that I am reminded of all the people cancer has taken from me. My grandfather, my mom’s close friend, my godmother, and now Andrew. You were loved by many, and you will be missed by many. 

She was globally minded. She could tell you the how green the other side of the grass was. She is an inspiration. She is my inspiration. 

I miss her.

Her heart is embossed on a map. Her odometer has many of miles, and many of stories attached to it. She’s gone but she’s always will be around as long as there is a road to travel.

When I think of her I think of flowers blooming, of the gentle kiss of snow’s first fall, the warmth of the coolest summer day, and the campfires ready to listen to stories. Memories and sharing life with others was more important than anything else. 

She was a philanthropist, a missionary, my godmother. She was timeless. She was beautiful inside and out. 

Her penmanship was sought out by many, and is the fuel that keeps my own writing going. The way she decorated pages with her craft, carefully illustrating distinctly her points. When I think of my own journeys to come, I know they will always be painted with her signature. 

Her gaze always saw me as that chunky chocolate baby boy. Her hands always held me like it was the first time, no matter how big I got, no matter how shaky they became. I just imagine the time my parents appointed her as my godmother. How she stood tall and proud to call me her godson and held my parents accountable to teach me about the love of Christ. 

“Be safe, have adventures, love... make sure you don’t forget to love, and always come back to the ones you love” - Rhoda Black 1928 - 2015 

After the first day of college, the sense of Independence begins to set in. It begins to grow day by day. It especially grows faster after every missed class without reprimand, or that party that I found myself getting wilder than expected.

My inner William Ernest Henley fueled my desire of independence, constantly quoting “I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.” I told myselfproudly, neglecting the community that surrounded me and was affected by the decisions I made. Whether they were good or bad.

I was blinded by my lust for independence, because in those moments I felt that I was unbreakable. Having a complex of “I’m always right” and “This decision is perfect because I thought of it.” And that way of thinking led me down dangerous roads. Roads where the only thing left from them is regret andshame.

The sidekick that followed Independence was Pride, and oh was he a good one at that. They allowed me to walk around with a chip on my shoulder, and they constantly fed me lies. Lies that I believe were truths. Lies that kept me awake at 3:18 in the morning. Lies that kept me in bed for that final that I missed because I didn’t think the teacher taught the class to my standard.

Honestly, looking back the only thing that Independence did for me wasrobbed me of precious moments. Moments where I could have spent humbling myself to my authority figures and learning new perspectives, and not just the perspectives that I wanted to see. Independence told me that my eyes were fully open, while holding its hands in front of them.

What’s worst, is that I thought of myself as a Christian. But still wanted to hold dear to my friend Independence. So I would have christian moments, after I was done with that I would go back to following my own road. I was divided. I told myself that it was enough that I’m giving God most of my time.

I love Jesus but I don’t want to give up my writing plans, travel plans, speaking plans, even when these plans are often more to my glory than to the glory of God. I love Jesus but I want to hold on to my own independence, even when that independence brings me no real freedom.

“You live by writing, you die by writing,” blech!! That sounds so clichè, and I’m sorry for it. But it’ll do for now until I can find another way to articulate really how I feel. 

Emotions to me seem very irrational. It’s irrational to stand out in the rain dancing in a moment with someone when all that comes form that is a fully bottle of Nyquil and a wasting PTO days. 

It’s irrational to let someone eat the food off of your plate. You’re hungry, you ordered it, you’re paying for it. Why on earth are they stealing what isn’t rightfully theirs? 

It’s irrational to stay awake till the sun kisses the sky, yet there you are... cold, nose is running, your butt is numb. 

But here’s the thing, emotions are irrational until you find that... thing. That... LOVE. It’s when love is discovered, emotions make sense. The coldness of the rain is masked by the warmth in your heart for that other person. Those few missing bites are satisfying. And being awake for endless hours makes sense when you’re with them. 

George Bernard Shaw once said that “youth is wasted on the young.” After seeing Lost Stars, starring Adam Levine Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo. Where that quote is highlighted in the chorus of the token song Lost Stars,(conveniently named after the movie’s title). 

And I bring this up because day by day, it reins true. I ever so presently see its meaning play out in my own life as if it’s following me around like a duckling to its mother. 

But here’s what trips me up, I think of that quote just about every moment when I do an activity with kids and feel an ounce of fatigue. Envy slips in passively says “Man if only I still that much vitality, that eagerness, that sprightliness I would be unstoppable.” Having a pessimistic and woe is me aspect towards it, that just doesn’t sit right with me. 

Because honestly if I wanted to have that much drive and vitality I must hone and allocate time and energy for it. The problem is not that I’m getting old. The problem is that I’m getting complacent, I’m getting lazy. Which opens the door for a despondent outlook on things. 

After the first day of college, the sense of Independence begins to set in. It begins to grow day by day. It especially grows faster after every missed class without reprimand, or that party that I found myself getting wilder than expected.

My inner William Ernest Henley fueled my desire of independence, constantly quoting “I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.” I told myselfproudly, neglecting the community that surrounded me and was affected by the decisions I made. Whether they were good or bad.

I was blinded by my lust for independence, because in those moments I felt that I was unbreakable. Having a complex of “I’m always right” and “This decision is perfect because I thought of it.” And that way of thinking led me down dangerous roads. Roads where the only thing left from them is regret andshame.

The sidekick that followed Independence was Pride, and oh was he a good one at that. They allowed me to walk around with a chip on my shoulder, and they constantly fed me lies. Lies that I believe were truths. Lies that kept me awake at 3:18 in the morning. Lies that kept me in bed for that final that I missed because I didn’t think the teacher taught the class to my standard.

Honestly, looking back the only thing that Independence did for me wasrobbed me of precious moments. Moments where I could have spent humbling myself to my authority figures and learning new perspectives, and not just the perspectives that I wanted to see. Independence told me that my eyes were fully open, while holding its hands in front of them.

What’s worst, is that I thought of myself as a Christian. But still wanted to hold dear to my friend Independence. So I would have christian moments, after I was done with that I would go back to following my own road. I was divided. I told myself that it was enough that I’m giving God most of my time.

I love Jesus but I don’t want to give up my writing plans, travel plans, speaking plans, even when these plans are often more to my glory than to the glory of God. I love Jesus but I want to hold on to my own independence, even when that independence brings me no real freedom.

Ah the joy of living with friends is the conversations that you have after real hours. After the day has been washed away and all that’s left is you and your thoughts. 

Within my group of friends, when the day winds down we know that it doesn’t signify that we have to as well. Rather we take the time to dig deep into each others lives. To know who they call friends, and it’s an awesome thing we do. 

During the day it’s very easy for me to live in my own bubble and not venture outside that. I’m guilty of that on more than one occasion. Having that autopilot on the way home, I think to myself:

 “Wait a minute I don’t remember how I got here. How did I get home and why didn’t I hit anything?”

In those times I realized myself not being very loving and present in life. So that’s what these talks are for. They slow us down, they make us process what we are actually doing. 

If I say that I love people, and I can’t give them my attention, that’s an issue. That’s a good catalyst for so many other areas in my life. The things I say that I care about, the things that I say that are most dear to me. 

I just really need to learn how to be aware of the fact that sometimes I’m just kidding myself, I’m lying to me. And I’m the only one losing in this situation.

“Also Mr. Gaston came in and told me to call him Mac Daddy, because he’s a great baby maker… he also adde a wink in there"

I was talking to my girlfriend today and she was telling me about her day. When she texted me the above phrase. I don’t know why but it shook me to the core. Not because of the mentality of the boyfriend perspective that “no one speaks to my girlfriend like that.” Or even the friend mentality that “ no one speaks to my friend like that.” But the very soul of who I am that “you don’t speak to anyone like that.” 

Sexism is a problem in the minds of the old generation, and still today this generation. What will it take for us to learn that it isn’t okay? Don’t they see the discomfort it brings in the eyes of their victims. How heartless or souls does a person need to be, to be blinded to that fact? 

The very reason it shook me was because I could sympathize and identify with that type of feeling that she had. Yes, it’s racism. I am not saying that they are similar things in anyway, because there’s clear differences around them. And you can’t fully know what it’s like if you aren’t apart of that demographic. 

But I know when someone has treated me different because of the color of my skin, and how I felt after it. The anger toward that intolerant mindset that some people have. The fear of the next time. The feeling of loneliness that those words have held you captive to. And it’s hard to fight the bitterness that is created because of those events.  

So my older brother is getting married soon. He's graduated. He's paid his bills on time. He exercises regularly. He buys healthy meals.

I am in a new relationship. I'm pretty sure I've watched Tangled sixteen plus times-- this week. I bought pizza rolls. I don't have what a person would call a "healthy" sleep schedule. I burnt my chin on aforementioned pizza rolls, and received a shining second degree burn. I am still keeping it together in school.

As you can infer my point in writing all this. It doesn't matter if your a functional adult, or a non-functional one. You are in fact an adult! Despite my resolve to consider myself a child forever, there comes a point when I have to open my eyes to the facts. One of those facts are, kids in middle school's homework reads: 

"In 1992 classroom averages were..."

That's when I stopped reading. I then took a cold hard look at my life, why? Well because that was my birth year! Do you know how to tell if your old? Look at your little cousins homework, if your birth year is on a worksheet. Then you are in fact old, and thus an adult. 

I say all this lightheartedly, and being a tad bit over dramatic. I know being an adult is much more than what I described above. Being adult means perfecting your mistakes. Learning to do better, and making wise decisions. Reflecting on your past, not to relive the glory days, but to warn the coming generation on what not to do. That's what I believe some of qualities an Adult should have. 

As time goes on you'll understand. What last, last; what doesn't, doesn't. Time solves most things. And what time can't solve you learn to solve it for yourself. 

So I'm 22... I've been on this earth for 22 years now. It's one of those times when I'm just letting that sink in. I remember most of the bad things that led me to the place I am currently at. As for the good ones, they often get trampled. Why is that? Why is it that every bad thing outweighs a good thing by 10 fold. I think I finally reached an answer. 

It's because all the good things that I've experienced, I've allowed my family and friends walk along side me in the glory. But the bad things I held onto them internally and decided that this was a walk I was going to walk alone. At least that is what GreenDay has taught me to do. Insert Boulevard Of Broken Dreams. 

When I look at it like that I can clearly see why the bad things are worse. Since I shoulder all of the burden, rather than trust my friends and family with my short comings. It finally make sense now. 

Looking back on the past I can see that in 2014 was like one of my biggest growth years. From having my first panic attack. Crying for the first time in years. Being in my first intentional relationship, then seeing that crash harder than that Dave Matthews Band song. Getting a glimpse of what a 9-5 job looks like. Most importantly how God showed up through all my mess, heartache, and disobedience. 

I've had these walls up since I was thirteen and it wasn't until college when I finally decided to start lowering them down. It's been a battle, and to be honest, I haven't seen any physical improvement until 2014 ended. I like who I'm becoming. Day by day I can see my self turing out the man I want to be--a loving brother, an faithful friend, and a servant to all. 

I once was afraid of showing people the skeletons in my closet, frankly I'm still afraid. But now I know God placed people in my life for support, good and bad. I need to continue to allow people to rejoice in my good days, and start allowing them to support me in the bad.

I think that was one of the biggest take aways I've gotten from the book Love Does by Bob Goff. Of course there's a whole slue of knowledge I've gotten from it but you'll see it trickle out here and there. I highly recommend that book.

They Suck. Seriously you're not doing yourself a favor by watching any kind of television show. These shows wrangle viewers in and throughout the seasons depict certain scenarios that we all go through in life. And in those scenarios they always do what we, in reality, should've actually have done. But we are wrapped up in the show and living our life through the show. That living our own lives becomes second. Oh I am guilty of this 100% of the time. 

Let's not forget to mention, almost every last season of a show is the worst! Since the directors rush to fulfill a deadline rather than properly treating my heart with care, the heart that I relentingly gave you in season 2!

Ending a series is like a break-up. It's shouldn't be abrupt. It should properly answer all the questions that you had. No loose ends should be left. Both parties should be able to walk away knowing that it was the right time, and that they're better. Yeah it was fun while it lasted but, it's just the right time to call it quits. 

Very few shows have done this. One example is Boy Meets World. T.V. shows can learn a thing or two about how a series should be. An example of what not to do is Chuck. First off I loved Chuck... Until it just spiraled down into a dark well that resembles the home of that girl from the ring. 

Where could you go where God is not? What place could you find free from Him? Could you hide in the mountains that He made Himself? Or retreat to where He doesn’t reign?

God was with Abraham in the desert. And with Joseph while he was in jail. And with David as he was in hiding. And with Ruth while she worked in the fields. And with Esther within the king’s palace. And with Daniel as he faced his death. And with Jonah as he ran from challenge. And with Job as his whole life was wrecked.

God has met people in many places. He’s encountered each kind of hurt soul. He’s restored all sorts of situations. There is no place where He cannot go.

He has moved among all kinds of people, in neighborhoods both rich in poor. He has moved in workplaces and churches, in college campuses and dorms. And He moves through the work of His people – the people He calls and He sends. He goes with them as they trust his leading, and take up the mission they’ve been given.

God was with Peter as he was preaching. And with Stephen as he faced the crowd. And with Paul as he traveled and traveled. And with John as he wrote his books down.

He goes with those who still trust His promise, who believe and who step out in faith, who consider how God could use them, and who live to extend their God’s fame, who respond to His call to disciple, who take His news forward with grace, who say to the Lord “I will follow. I will go wherever you want.”

Though some run towards Him and others away, two truths remains unchanged: God is still God wherever you are, and He welcomes you closer to Him. God is still God wherever you go, and wherever you go so will He.

Do you know those dreams where after you wake up, you just have to stay awake? Well they are synonymous to the dreams that you just can’t shake of from your memory, and physically makes you feel like a different person. 

The dream I just had depicted myself in the future. I didn’t like what I became. Although I looked cool and it seemed that the wealth of knowledge that I possessed was exactly what I think I want, it was just strange to see myself that way. The fact also is that it felt so real, that’s why it’s making me feel strange. 

I was a nomadic person. I traveled light, I had a backpack and a sleeping bag. At the time my dream started I was in like a south African prairie land, almost like the Lion King scape. I had to be around twenty five. I had an assortment of tattoos, one that really stood out. It was located on my right arm right below my elbow. It was a quote about cotton, I can’t remember what it said but as of what it looked like; the text was sandwiched by wheat stalks, and the font was American Typewriter.

My oldest brother was the one to find me. I don’t remember what he told me to come back home. But It was important. Either a death in the family, or something along those lines. He took me back to Grandma’s house and I remember greeting my mom. Her face expressed astonishment that I was there, which meant that I had to be gone for a while. She was overjoyed to have me home, but the reason I way I came home wasn’t the best. 

I was taken upstairs to the the room where we were going to sleep. This is when I noticed the tattoo I had written on my forearm. There were four beds in the room; my oldest brother was in one, I assume my other brother had one although I didn’t see him, Mom had one, and I had one. My second oldest brother and my dad wasn’t in the dream. That’s what make me feel scared, because I can’t help but to think, the reason I came back was because of either of theirs death. That just is something that can’t be real. 

It was an emotional dream, that’s why it felt so real. The person I became felt like the opposite of what I want to be. I always thought about traveling the world, about experiencing things in hope I could find an answer to make this life worth something. But that didn’t seem like a proper answer, I hated myself for leaving. For not being with my family, and I don’t want to feel that way. The soundtrack for this dream is “Who I am, Hates who I’ve been,” off of the pop goes punk soundtrack by Reliant K. Totally applicable am i rite. 

Dear Ted Mosby, 

Sir you have the confidence and poise of my idealistic self. I mean, stealing the blue horn and offering it as the symbol of your love to the girl who, who made your time freeze. As if it were kissed by Khione herself. I tip my hat to you… Wow even after finishing the series, the thing that comes to mind when anyone utter the show’s title is that little blue french horn. 

The reason why it dwells in my heart and mind is because that very moment you gave robin the horn you gave her…You. That was the thing that kept me intently watching all nine seasons. Through the rough patches of horrible dates, through the many versions of Lilly’s character, till the thought-to-be ending of your love for Robin with the introduction of the mom.

I wasn’t surprised how it ended. Because there was always that thought in the back of my head of “what if…” Which in reality is the truest depiction of an internal conflict. That there is that one person that we would want to go back to, that person that made our time forget it’s job. The person who lit up our lives bighter than anyone ever could.

You know him don’t you? The overly invested on the surface level person, that wants you to bear all your soul, but only does it out of obligation. Who asks you how your feeling… No, no how your really feeling. Then when you do open up, you feel as if you can literally see your words dance into one ear and skydive out of the other. I call this person Tom. 

Well there’s a reason behind Tom, and here it is. 

Over the summer, there was a week when I wasn’t doing to well. Mentally, and emotionally speaking. My internship was getting harder and harder, and I didn’t know how to adjust to the work load of it all. And there were a bunch of little things that just knit-picked at my emotions; life, family, girls. 

On this particular day, things just seemed to be overwhelming… I just wanted to stand in the shower for 3 days straight to relieve the stress. But it was bible study day, not just that it was a special bible study day. We were to meet up with a local college ministry and fellowship with them. 

At this particular moment, the only way to describe how I was feeling is to compare it to a hot car radiator. Steam was building up and I was whistiling! If you don’t know, the way to handle a hot radiator is you have to wait for the pot to cool a bit before opening the lit. If not… Boom, there will be a big mess, antifreeze will shoot into the air like a volcano going off in full fashion. 

It might’ve been the lack off “Caution handle with care,” sign on me, but once my friend and I arrived at the location. The first guy that introduced himself to us was named Tom. Tom was your generic “bible study youth troop leader” —eccentric, energentic, deeply-shallowed, etc. He was probably the last person I needed to talk to that evening.

Tom was really nice don’t get me wrong, it’s just he asked questions that I could tell he didn’t want the answers to. And at this point was the last person who you want to be talking to. To feel like my words meant nothing was just more heat to the radiator, and that’s is the opposite of what I needed in that time.

I then gave my courteous end of conversation speech and mosied away. The next person I talked to was a listener and was engaged in what I had to say, and invested in me the right way, that allowed me to cool down.