Finishing this post and clicking publish will be an accomplishment of sorts.
You see, as I begin to take a hard look at things, I begin to realize that I’ve never finished anything. This may not be that much of a revelation, coming from the 25-year old undergraduate student. Stay with me, as I do intend to get to something ranging from vaguely interesting to awkwardly insightful. Let’s do this.
As was my hope, the Rangers rebounded from Friday night’s heartbreaking loss to the Red Sox. They could have slumped their shoulders and limped through the rest of the series, but instead they kept their heads up and played 18 innings of just beautiful baseball to win the series and take the lead in the wild card standings. I think Michael Young’s postgame comments on Friday night may have set the tone for the rest of the team, and another chapter in this story has been written. They can’t celebrate this one for long, because there’s still 46 more of these to go.
Have you ever gotten the feeling- maybe just an inkling- that you’ve just experienced a moment that you will remember years later as a turning point, or at least an event of some significance?
I experienced such a moment tonight. Let’s do this.
As I’ve learned from the United States government, people love it when you declare war on a thing.
With that in mind, I’ve decided today to declare war on the messes in my life. Let’s do this.
I just read over some blogs to analyze my writing skills. I’ve changed my major to English, so writing is a skill that I need to continue to develop. So far I’ve noticed that I tend to repeat myself a little bit, sometimes in efforts to use parallel structure, but sometimes I just state the same idea twice because I lack the ability to choose words powerful enough to express that idea in just one pass. Also, I occasionally get lazy with my diction. For example, I sometimes use the word “where” in reference to a time instead of a location, i.e. “a moment where such and such happens” should really read “a moment when such and such happens.” So my writing is a work in progress. If there are any other mistakes you notice, just keep them to yourself and perhaps I’ll catch them later.
That is all.
Come along and hear a gripping tale about a man with a cell phone bill. Let’s do this.
That title is meant to be read in a Jerry Seinfeld voice. I just wanted to share a few observations that have been plaguing my already busy mind. Let’s do this.
Last night I went to 5:00 mass at a church near my house, one I had never been to before. One of the many things I like about the Catholic church is that each mass is pretty much the same. The readings change each Sunday, the songs may get rotated in and out, and the sermons obviously change, but most of the mass is the same every week. And each time you can get something new out of it. I’ll come back to that in just a minute.
The mass generally contains two parts: the Liturgy of the Word, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. During the Liturgy of the Eucharist, which is a time of preparation to receive Christ through the Eucharist, we pray the Lord’s Prayer, and then after that we share a sign of peace. The priest says “peace be with you” to us, to which we reply, “and also with you,” and then the priest invites us to share with one another “a sign of peace.” At this time people hug and kiss loved ones, tell them “peace be with you” and then usually turn to those sitting nearby and shake hands and say peace be with you.
Now here’s what struck me last night as I shook hands with strangers and offered them a sign of peace: It’s a rare moment. In Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell talks about these moments where the ground is holy, where God is so evidently present. And it struck me how rare the moment is in our lives when we reach out to people we’ve never met and may never see again. There’s no agenda, nothing we need from them. We just want them to have peace. No idea who they are. No idea what they’re going through. We just reach out… peace be with you… and smile.
I was driving home from school on Friday around 10am. I had nowhere important to be for several hours, so I was calm and enjoying listening to a little music and rolling down the windows to let the great weather in. A car came up in the next lane, and its driver was clearly in a hurry and frustrated. He was leaning forward a little, face tensed up, knuckles white from clenching the steering wheel. I could almost feel the heat coming off his red face as I watched him yell at nobody in particular from the “privacy” of his car. Something happens to us when we get behind the wheel; we extend our personal space to the entire lane, and we extend our inner monologue to the entire inside of our car. And I could see his inner monologue spilling violently out of his entire being from the next lane over. The rage was palpable.
He couldn’t see how temporary and unnecessary his anger was. From the outside, it looked ridiculous to get so mad over a little traffic, but in the moment, in the throes of a temper tantrum, there is nothing but consuming hate. Complete strangers. He didn’t know who they were, and he didn’t know what they were going through. He just wanted bad things to happen to them.
As I shook hands with strangers on Saturday and offered them a sign of peace, I thought of the man in the black Chevy, and I wondered what the odds were that he would be in that same church. I wish I could have seen him again. I wish I could have reached out to him, shook his hand, and said peace be with you.
May mercy, peace, and love be yours in abundance.
Be warned, there is not exactly a ton of substance to this post, but click through if you’re bored enough. Let’s do this.
This blog was attacked recently by an intellectual terrorist calling himself “the Jimbomber.” His uppance shall come. Let’s do this.
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