Ogres, and people, are a lot like onions

Around my senior year at XU, I went through a personal renascence.  I’ve described parts of it here and how it related to my old relationships, but it really reached further than that.  It changed my appearance, solidified my faith in God, obliterated my career path, shifted friendships and introduced me to the wonderful woman who eventually became my wife.  

This metamorphosis didn’t come quickly or painlessly.  Again, it involved getting out of a not-so-great relationship, which, while needed, was painful at the time.  I lost more friends than I gained and had to really look at how some of my behavior didn’t match up with my new found values.

I mention this, because I feel like I’m on the edge of another personal renascence.  Where I take stock in the different parts of my life, reassess myself and embrace these changes.  This has been stirring around in my mind for while, and probably, subconsciously, why I started this blog.  A chance to take stock, look around and make sure I am who I want to be, and, not to get to Christiany on you, who God wants me to be.

I wish I could say the muse for this post was some life altering realization, where the clouds parted and I suddenly knew it was time to peel away a layer.  Sadly, or not so sadly, the catalyst for all of this was this great pair of shoes.

I visited a vintage consignment shop with my wife the other day and found them, in my size, for $15.  I’ve literally worn the same shirts for the last 4 years without any kind of problem.  Switched between sneakers, boots for snow and Chaco sandals in the summer.  I wear 2 pairs of pants regularly and have owned the same shorts for more than 5 years.  

So what possessed me to purchase somewhat trendy shoes that I have no experience wearing?  I have no idea.  Something just sparked when I saw these brown wingtips.  Heck, I have no idea what kind of clothes to wear with them or where I’d wear them, but, bottom line, they’re pretty cool shoes.  That was enough for me to buy them, bring them home and wonder, “What the heck am I going to do with these?”

I’ve got some ideas on where to go with this, and peeling back this layer involves a lot more than fashion sense.  Look for more updates on where Layer Peeling 2012 takes me.  

Kick the beat with the help from some drumsticks

Is it just me, or do all of these guys seem like the really cool kids who were cool enough to be friends with everyone.

They're broken, I'm broken, we're all broken

Some of my favorite stories from the bible occur whenever Jesus surrounds himself with sinners.  His followers, following ancient Judea customs, believed that being around sinners, or “the unclean,” would cause them to become unclean themselves.  Jesus scoffed at this tradition and showed his followers the importance of being with ALL people.

There are a ton of lessons in these stories:  The importance of meeting people at their level when trying to help them.  The dangers of believing that we’re ever too good to be around another person.  And, my personal favorite, that everyone has something to offer, and that by loving everyone, especially the ones we find difficult to love, we bring ourselves closer to the loving image God has for us.  

My friendships in Dayton bring this image to mind, if only because a lot of people I visited over the holidays were struggling in different ways.  Marriages have become tense.  Steady work remains allusive and ways of living remain different than what I work for and enjoy in the Twin Cities.  

My first reaction to these differences was deep deep sadness.  I just felt grief in my bones for these beautiful people and the friendships I felt were fading with time.  My second reaction, not surprisingly, was defensive.  I started in on the whole “I work hard for what I have,” and “They make their decisions just like I do” line of thinking.  I think that was my way of feeling guilty for my success, which is pretty modest by most accounts.

All that changed, when my wife sent me THIS link, beautifully written from a woman in Dayton.  I tapped in to this kind of spirituality when I came to Minnesota, and I think some part of me didn’t believe it existed back in the Gem City, if only because I’ve only known it since moving away.  

I loved the sentiment and the music (Over the Rhine is a great Indie-folk band from Cincinnati), but most of all I love that it reminded me of the stories I mentioned earlier.  I love these people not for what they produce or give, but because they are.  It would be easy to push all of the hard complicated things out of my life, get defensive about my own and put up some strong fences.  

That isn’t life, though.  It’s some weird suburban fantasy where everything is easy and clean.  It isn’t, and that’s why it’s important to love people and relationships that become messy or painful.  It reminds me there’s good in the hard.  There’s beautiful and love and amazing in the messy.  It’s a lesson I keep relearning, and I hope I always will.

Cookies and Christmas

Going home can be tricky, and going home during the holidays is always tricky.

My wife’s family is full of energy and excitement.  Lots of people doing lots of interesting things who are excited to see family and hear new stories.  We tend to be the less interesting, slow paced people in this family.  Oh, you’re starting a power company in Africa and traveling around the world speaking to investors?  My 8th grade football team went 4-4.

We’re happy with our lot in life, though.  In fact, we love it.  We live simply and do our best to enjoy the genuinely good things around us like local vegetables and changing seasons.  It’s just that we don’t have much to contribute to these big conversations.  This year, though, we agreed that our little house and joyful lives were enough for us, and to let other people do most of the talking.  

Jump forward a few days, and we’re sitting in Cleveland with my family.  Lots and lots of sitting.  We flew into the Cleve around 2pm, and sat in the same spots on couches for the next 8 hours (with a break for dinner).  8 hours.  It took us a couple of days to get over the culture shock of active talkative people to sedimentary small talk, but we came through the other side a few pounds heavier and more appreciative of our little life than ever.