I Wonder

I wonder what it means to know God's glory.
I wonder what it means to reflect God's glory.
I wonder what it means to have His Kingdom here on Earth.
I wonder what it means to know the fig tree withered.
I wonder what it means to die in order to live.
I wonder what it means to love others as myself.
I wonder what it means to live only by faith.
I wonder what it means to find joy in suffering.
I wonder what it means to lose all in order to gain all.
I wonder what it means to extend grace to others.
I wonder what it means to extend grace to myself.

Flush

This blog entry shall have no merit. But I am perplexed by one simple thing. How might I put this delicately? Yesterday as I was using the restroom, another gentleman came in to use the urinal nearby. As soon as he approached the porcelein, he flushed it. This is what confuses me, and honestly, it's not the first time I've seen this happen. There are some people out there who flush before they go. I assume they also flush afterwards, but why before? Truly, I can't figure it out. If anyone out there can give some insight into this phenomenon, it would be must appreciated. Oh yes, one more thing: I am curious to know if this same phenomenon ever happens in the ladies' room across the hall. Hmm.

Puffy Vest

There are certain things I miss from the college days. I miss random activities like Puffy Vest Friday Night in the Union. My favorite part of this picture is Mary Beth peeking around the counter, distracted from her Vecino's latte-making. We would have included her in the picture, if only she was wearing a puffy vest...

Giving Thanks with Kelly

"And I'm thankful
for the blessing
and the lessons that I've
learned with you
by my side
that i'm thankful
so thankful
for the love
that you keep bringing
in my life
in my life
thankful
so thankful"

--Kelly Clarkson

Thanksgiving

My parents are on their way here from Ohio. They left around 8 this morning and will be coming in this afternoon. I can honestly say that I have never been this excited to see my folks. It's been really neat to see my relationships with them really develop and grow over these last few years and is something I'm wonderfully thankful for. So they'll be spending Thanksgiving with the Bellito family...something else I never thought would happen. Who knows, maybe it will be such a hit that it will become the first annual!

This morning I was up at 5:45 to do the normal Wednesday morning Bible Study that I have with a few of the high school guys I know. It is always a great time, and this morning there were just two of us. But when I opened the door to the house, the entire world around me was blanketed in a light snow and snow was still falling to the ground. I was SO excited. I know that come January 20th or so I'll be sick and tired of the cold and the wet and all that comes with winter, but this morning it was positively beautiful in the early morning light. I actually think I began to cry a little, just thinking about how cool nature is and how cool God is.

So on my way to Starbucks I decided that this was no normal morning for a Bible Study. So Dan and I met, grabbed some hot chocolate, and I told him we were going on a field trip. We drove to a nearby cemetary and walked around for a while in the peaceful morning snowfall. We talked about Revelation and how Jesus is coming back, about what it means to love, to be relevant. In essence, it was a beautiful morning, on many different levels.

I am SOOO looking forward to a couple of days with my parents, relaxation, good food, maybe a good book and a cup of chai. I wonder what my life would look like if I was really thankful every day, always looking to understand a little deeper how truly blessed I am. I honestly think it would revolutionize my life.

Khalia

It is no secret that I really love the family I've been living with for these last six months in Chicago. Put simply, they're fantastic. There are four kids in the family. Khalia is the youngest and is currently recently turned nine. She CRACKS ME UP every day. She is always asking me questions about my life and often says things that I don't think normally come out of nine-year-old mouths. She regularly tells me that she's gonna be so sad when I leave and contemplates the fact in her life that she's not married and will then forever be alone.

Last night Khalia was doing some more philosophizing, which I always love, but last night's I found particularly poignant. You see, I was pretty tired and stressed out, working on two big papers that I turned in today. So I am typing away and digging into books, and Khalia wonders why I can't play a game with her. Then she says, "You know, of all the commandments, I think the one people break the most is the one that says not to work on Sunday." Obviously, I felt like this was directed towards me, so Khalia and I and her father engaged in a little dialogue about work and rest and God and all of that. I left thinking a few things: 1) I can't imagine I ever even thought about this when I was nine, 2) why am I so bad at explaining things that I think to people, and 3) I can't argue with her about the importance of rest and I certainly don't do enough of that in my own life.

When I move out in about a month, I'm really gonna miss Khalia. And I bet I'll miss that I didn't take the time to play more games with her.

Surreal

Today is November 17th. In one month, one month exactly, I become a husband, I take a wife. Last night I was honestly screaming in my car as Joy and I were driving. I think it lasted for minutes on end. Not because I'm freaking out or nervous or all of that, but it's just so surreal. Whenever I think about it, that's the only word that seems to fit. At some level, I feel like I should be nervous, should be freaking out, but I'm really not, but I am totally excited. It's hard to believe it's really here and that this will be my last month as an unmarried man ever. Maybe I should go skydiving or mountain climbing or streaking or something as my last sign of unmarried youth. Oh well, I guess all of that doesn't really matter, because this is fantastic. I may not be an unmarried for long, but you better believe I sill plan on being a youth. I hope I always am. The Little Prince inspires me.

Apt. C

It's true...I am now a renter. I have an apartment. The wedding is still a month and a half away, but this weekend Joy and I began the move-in process. We start paying in December (dang, Chicago is expensive...), but they decided since the place is open, they might as well let us have it in November to move in. Really, it will be so great to get is at least a little bit organized and set-up before the wedding. It's a little ghetto, the building's a little old, but I really think it's gonna be great. It's kinda spacious, has a big kitchen, good storage, two bedrooms, and even a little a balcony.

This is what my life has become: the highlight of my weekend was that Joy and I found a couch and loveseat that we both liked and could afford. I know, this is not exciting at any level of your existence, but when you've been to countless furniture stores (and, honestly, all of them are somewhat sketch) and have had disagreements (arguments?) over end tables and fabric choice, you realize that your life has changed whether you like it or not.

My wish is that people will come and visit. Our floor space is your floor space (at this point, there are no beds...), so come and visit. Through the sketchy front door, up the breaking staircase, and then into our little home. We'd leave a light on, but at this point, there are no lights. Hey, at least there's a couch you can sleep on.

My Italian Neighbors!!!

When I was at the apartment on Wednesday, I heard something beautiful. I could overhear the people across the hall talking, and it wasn't English. At first I assumed it was Spanish since that's a pretty common language around here. But I listened a little more closely (literally, if they had walked out at that moment, I would have looked pretty stupid...) and heard a few words that were not Spanish but were most definitely....ITALIAN!!!

Now, you may not know, but one of my life dreams (right up there with going to all seven continents and climbing to Everest Base Camp) is to be at least moderately fluent in Italian. Really, a large part of me belongs to Italy, loving the food, the people, the architecture, the art, the history, the music, the wine, the scenery, and of course, the language.

I am not even close to being able to fluently speak Italian. I never was, although I was a lot better when I was last there two years ago. But I still have hope. I'm not sure if it will ever happen (how often will I really get to substantially practice and learn?), but like I said, it's still one of those life goals I have.

So this morning, I went over to the apartment by myself to take over a bookcase. As I got to the landing and got out my keys, the door across from me opened. A woman (probably in her thirties) came out and I said hello. She said hello and then said she didn't speak much English. I said, "Oh, what do you speak?" (while in my mind I was screaming "YES!!! She's SO ITALIAN!!!") and she reaffirmed my suspicions. I immediately began speaking in a horribly chopped Italian and she was most definitely shocked that I could speak it at all. I met her three children (aged 5, 3, and 1) as well as her husband who really speaks no English at all. Throughout our short conversation I realized that they have only been in the country for about three weeks.

There are some days that I honestly ache for Italy. I already have great plans for our neighbors across the hall. I want to love their children (Joy's a teacher!), share languages (we have already discussed practicing languages with each other), and have fun nights where we invite the others over for a good Italian-themed dinner and share a bottle of Italian wine while talking on the balcony late into the evening. I mean, they might be scared of me and we may never talk, but as of now, I have high high hopes.

When I left the apartment, I saw them again. I waved and said, "Ciao!" I am sure I looked way too happy and they wondered what was wrong with me. I didn't even care. I have Italian neighbors and that is a beautiful thing.

Story

I came across a quote yesterday that I just love to the depths of who I am. Here it is...

"I am my stories, and you are yours. What might happen if our stories truly met and danced? Could we stumble toward a Divine rhythm better for having storied together?" (Dwight Friesen, Mars Hill Graduate School )

I know know about you, but I personally think that's pretty sweet. I love the idea that my life is a story, that your life is a story, that our lives are a part of a larger story. There's something about it that, honestly, kinda gives me chills. I'm blown away by the fact that God would allow me to somehow be a part of other people's stories, get to experience my story chapter by chapter, be a little tiny part in His grand Story. Yeah, that's cool.

But while I read this quote and got those chills, I also realized something else: Sometimes I am really bad at allowing people to be a part of my story, sometimes I don't care to enter into someone else's story, sometimes I just close the book and leave it on the shelf.

I think that's what I often do, just close my story and leave it on the shelf while it gathers dust and cobwebs. I have been realizing more and more that I miss dancing with other people's stories. I miss sharing my story with others. In essense, maybe I miss knowing people. I believe God created each one of us with not only a unique story, but also the desire (drive?) to really be known by others. I am such a relational person. I need time away with a good friend, a nice long (heck, even a short) road trip, a campfire or a lake or a couch or a coffee shop or a field or another country or a bookstore or a bar. I need relationships. I need relationships with other people and I need relationship with God.

Tonight I've been thinking about God and wondering if this is how He feels sometimes. I wonder if He ever wonders, "Wow, I really want to be known. I created these beings to know me, to communicate with me, to be in relationship with me, to dance with me." It's midnight and it is a beautiful fall evening. I think I just might go on a walk and spend some time dancing with God. Yeah, that sounds really fantastic. Talk to you later. Thanks for being a part of my story.