I punch in the address, put my phone on my dashboard, and set out...
The GPS on my phone has, on numerous occasions, made my life easier. No need to google maps, get phone directions from people who don't really know themselves or can't pronounce or spell streets, cruise down streets looking for the 'yellow house', and guess from 'when I was there last time'. In fact, I have not had a single problem yet, since the GPS doesn't lie and is totally reliable. You can just trust this piece of technology without second-guessing.
So I do just that. Punch in the address, put my phone on the dashboard, and set out. I was told, "It's pretty close to where you live." Should be a breeze. I follow the voice, driving where I'm told, only to come upon a detour that has been setup just the other day. My GPS doesn't know this. So I follow the detour only to find out it leads me completly the opposite way of where I need to go, and my GPS lady keeps saying, "Recalculating Route" over and over as I make a U-turn and take a street I think will get me to the original path. I thought there was construction across town, but apparently it's all over town and I am blocked again by a few bright yellow CAT machines. "Recalculating Route, Recalculating Route." I make too many turns, circles, going around the dead ends, listening to the annoying thing tell me I need to turn left, turn right, which I'm not following anymore, but don't take a pause to turn it off. In the end, I find my way to the main street I knew I should have taken, repunch the address and in two turns get to where I need to be. Should have been pretty simple.
I feel this way about my life. My life verse, or my motto as I call it, is about paths. It's even written as a banner on the inside of my cell phone... I always get where I need to be. It's the getting there that's tricky. I take one way, make some turns, make some U-turns, some stops, and finally get back on track on another way. How am I supposed to know that some of the turns I will take will lead to dead ends? How am I supposed to know that the path I choose is taking me the opposite way? They are all connected, but in taking one or another road, it just takes a little longer to go around. Why not just trust myself and follow what I'm told? Because it's not up to me, and those detours and dead ends that get setup last minute, I cannot account for or know about before I head out. My thought on it is to turn off my GPS, andfollow the One that Leads. He will get me off the wrong track and onto the right one. Getting there might not be all perfect turns, but I will be there, and once I get there, I can look back and say, "That was an Interesting Road!"
this is from a year ago posted on Myspace: (funny, how similar it is...) Oh, the many choices I've had to make! From pure simple ones to harder ones where I really can't make up my mind...should I eat that pastry or not? (usually I do) coffee or tea? Take that early morning job or refer someone else? Go to church or sleep in? Should I buy a house or wait, move out or keep living the easy life? Become an astrophysicist and study cosmology or become a hairdresser and study cosmetology? Should I go out with him or not? Speak my mind or keep quiet? And on top of my own decisions, some ask me to make choices for them. "Tell me who should I become?" They say, "You decide, do it how you would, how should we do this or that?" and I say, "why do I have to decide?" so it makes it all more harder...Maybe I make it more complicated that it really is, but I want it to be right -to be perfect! Wouldn't it be easy if God could just write it out on the wall for me and I'd obey and know it was Right? And then there's that word -obey. It's been coming at me from all directions. Someone says, "all we have to do is obey." all these months of bible study lectures; obedience this, obedience that...it brings blessings, etc...and I wonder, what is it, God, you want me to obey? --Recently in a lecture, there was a good principle; a reminder that Life is a series of choices and God's word will help you make the Right ones! And that just spoke to me that what I have to obey is God's commands and his word...I will know what when I need it...and sometimes when I do clearly know, it's not always easy or pleasing to obey. I might not understand, why or how it all works, but it will all come together in it's own right time. "Oh, what a wonderful God we have! How great are his riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his methods! For who can know what the Lord is thinking?...Romans 11:33,34
I will make choices and if I mess up, He will correct and fix it for me, and in the end it will be Right-His way and for the better. "Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, and that you and your descendents might live! Choose to love the Lord your God and to obey him and commit yourself to him, for he is your life..." Deut. 30:19 I think that is one choice I can make and be sure that I did right...the rest is a piece of cake...
I remember my college days when I would procrastinate writing a paper. Anything would sound more appealing and all of a sudden very important; social obligations, laundry, 'more pressing school work' ...and I would jump at the chance, as long as I could prolong the time until I would have no other choice but to write it or not do it at all. In the end, I would write my paper the morning of, and get a pretty decent grade too. The thing is, here I am writing, only because I am putting off a detestable thing I got myself into, very unwillingly...
Grandpa said he would come at 6 am. He didn't. Since he's cancelled before and is an aging man, I wasn't going to bother calling. I just thought he was too tired anyway. He came, just before I rode off on my bike, at 6:30. We drove to Bear Lake for my first ever fishing trip.
There is something amazing and relaxing about the sound and the feel of casting a fishing line; as it flies through the air and the weight plops into the water, making circular ripples from where it sinks. I practiced a bit, throwing it out and reeling it back in...
While we waited for the visible tug of the line, as the rod sat on a cone or on some brush, grandpa and I talked. I would ask him fishing questions and he would explain and point things out about all the surrounding lakes, fish, bait, and tools. We would talk about his life. Things I never knew. There would be extended historical introductions and long pauses in his conversation and I would have to be very patient knowing that is how he talks. This is actually my first year of knowing my grandpa on a personal level. I had no clue to the extent of this trip thinking it was just good to go out, do something I've never done before. But closer towards the end of our time together, he told me that he had put himself in a dark dungeon (his small apartment) this last year (after his wife's death), and I have brought him out. He said thank you and that it brought feeling of nostalgia for him. He even got excited about other lakes we could go to in the near future. It was very touching and eye opening for me.
I am not one to fish or hunt or do anything else that includes killing or causing pain to anything. If I ever go fishing again, it will be catch and release. I don't like the look of a desperate fish trying to free itself from the hook in it's mouth.
And the thing is, I brought the fish home, and am stuck with having to be the one to clean them and gut them and prepare them. I have no history or knowledge or desire of doing such things. It may be a passion, a hobby in whole -catching, cleaning, cooking, but it's no passion of mine! I've already tried to give one away, but I know it falls to me, and I am stalling, putting it off, knowing perfectly well I have to do it. Soon, weather I like it or not... I think I will puke.
I've decided that Comstock Park, on the South Hill, has the best set of swings in Spokane that a 25 year old could want...
I lay down under the pine trees and they seemed to become taller than before, swaying under the light breeze that even I could barely feel. Yet they swayed, and I could hear the slight rustle as I lay watching, in between the trunks, as a faint cloud passed and the first twinkle of a star appeared...And I wondered about the many different 'goodbyes'.
Is there a way to prepare oneself for a 'farewell'? The way I say goodbye to a loved one. Do I pretend I'm fine and strong, and act nonchalant and carefree? Do I put on a face and tell myself 'whatever'?
"This might be our last goodbye."
"This is Forever."
"We will see each other in Heaven."
"See you soon."
Honestly though, any farewell that hasn't been just a 'see you later' but has been a true goodbye, has always caused heartache and tears. On the exterior it can all appear cold and callous to a certain extent, but the heart says different...
Ever since I was a kid in school, I would read all the books my teachers would have so fast that sometimes they would buy more books, just for me. And always, I would look at their bookshelves and just wish to have shelves and shelves full of books-all my own! Simply put, I have always wanted my own library. A collection of all sorts of books... It's so easy to just go to the internet and find whatever information I want, but it's just not the same thing. To this day, one of my favorite things to do is go to the different book stores around town and walk through the store, gazing at all the pretty covers, browsing, flipping through pages, skimming through whole books (speed reading, that is) and then after looking at them for awhile, deciding maybe I should just go online and order a cheaper copy there...
There is a reason that libraries are very dry and cool. (Librarians tell me their fingertips crack all the time.) But that is so that the books stay in a very good condition, for as long as possible.
And to think, a good sized beginning of a library is sitting in a moldy, damp basement, absorbing moisture. Beautiful books are being destructed. Too bad it is not my house and they are not my books.
Books all the way from Russia. Beautifully illustrated children's books, both Russian and English, that take me back to a time long ago. Russian literature. English classics. Encyclopedias. All sorts of dictionaries: Spanish, Russian, English, and even slang. Fiction and Non-fiction. Bibles and religious books. Medicine and cooking books. All disorganized, piled up carelessly, one random book next to another.
And the cool thing about these books is that they all have history. They all served a purpose in our home at one point or another. So many stories, so much knowledge. Now, wasting away because the space that is available is unsuit for them.
It's very dissapointing that the crisp, clean pages of unworn books, and the aging pages of quite old books have become bent, wrinkling up as they soften from the air of the basement.