(Don't) Stop This Train

I haven't posted on here in a while, but I've decided I do want to reinstate my blogging expedition. It keeps me from taking life for granted, and almost puts me outside myself as a third-party observer who can remind myself when I need to stop and consider a happening or musing more greatly. I've been journaling a smidge (but not enough); however, I see the benefit of a public forum for some of this as well. And I feel as though I need to keep 'Big Brother' from feeling too left out.

Typically I would return with a triumphal reentry stating all of my recent conquests of life, and there are some, but I probably won't do too much of that now. I do feel like this will be a post that many (if many or any ever read this) will greatly relate to.

I have been listening to some John Mayer in my car recently, from time to time. There is a song that has always hit the nail on the head for me, even when I don't "feel it," I know it's just as true a desire. As the title would suggest, this song is Stop This Train.

I think the one word that strikes a chord of reverberation is that word "home." Home has such connotative weight that it can only be called divine in it's message. The universality of the impact found in such a simple uttering is amazing. When you say, "I just feel like I want to go home," and whoever around you knows you don't mean it literally... they know exactly what you mean.

You long for a comfort. One reminiscent of simple times, but not confined by any experience we've had. It's as if "home" is the recognition in our souls that there is a home of permanence that we have yet to savor, allowing only a taste to tease our tongue for the time being. Meanwhile, we set mental images and memories of times past as placeholders to reference the longing we feel. For me, at least previously, I would remember those twilight moments between sleep and wake, where your eyelids are sore under the burden of consciousness, your mind is in a limbo of calm, and you force yourself to be present at the line between two destinations. For me, this was usually found past my bedtime, laying on my mom's bed with the TV on, although no attention was being paid to it, prodding myself to stay awake with my eyes closed. I don't know why moments as these stick out in my mind, but they were total relaxation, free from care; just... being.

I don't feel this anymore. Life is too busy and full of worries to really relax by myself on such terms. No, I presently require distraction to find any peace, and scent of 'home.' A night of old friends whom I'm completely myself and comfortable around or the cradling of one cherished within my arms are the few places of refuge from concern. It saddens me how rarely I can be fully, blissfully distracted toward the real peace of Home by God's presence. I can be motivated by, instructed toward, and passionate for Home; but I rarely taste its peace, which I believe is the elixir my mouth is dry for.

Surely the house I am building to dwell in is one of dry rot. My sin and worry, rooted in my "maturing" and responsibilities has compromised the structural integrity of the Home I wish to discover. I no longer can picture it, I can merely remember picturing it in the past, when I was young and pure. Isn't it amazing the capacity of purity in youth. It is a pitcher that shrinks back with adulthood. Perhaps this is the very reason I wish to "stop this train." When you lose your direction, when you have no vision of where you are going, it's a much scarier ride.

I have gained head knowledge, and perhaps even faith, but it is in purity that we are able to see the beacon which steers us home. No matter how great my map is, there is always a sense of uncertainty and fear in reaching your destination when the fog of life pollutes your sight. Surely you may, and probably will, reach said destination if you are steady, brave, and persevering; but oh what a strain it is to seek without eyes of purity, and what risk of abandoning your quest without assurance.

It's always going to feel like life is going a bit too fast for us. We're rarely going to feel confident with our ability to cope, adapt, and continue. So often we're going to feel like we're running on our heals instead of our toes; this awkward progression forth while leaning back the entire time leaves us feeling as though we could fall on our face at any moment... and knowing ourselves... probably will. We will always seek the peace and comfort of "home," and we will always be perplexed by what that even means. "Life" will distract us from our underlying insecurity "'til you cry when you're driving away in the dark." We are minuscule, finite human beings, who are made to believe that they ought to have everything figured out. It's a tall order, and an intimidating odyssey. Understanding where the dwelling of Peace lies, and being able to see Him with your own eyes of purity (even if just glimmers at a time) will keep you confident in the course your map has plotted. It is then that you can state confidently and in expectancy, "Don't stop this train, it's leading me HOME!"

"Blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God."

- Matthew 5:8

Floridia

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I'm in Tampa International Airport right now typing this blog, charging my laptop, and waiting for my plane. I am quite the little mutli-tasker, huh?

We stayed the week at my uncle's vacation house here in Florida, which is much grander by my standards than he considers it to be. The place has two bedrooms, a nice living room, screened in porch, unscreened porch, big kitchen, tall ceilings, a few HD TV's, two bathrooms, and so on and so on. Not huge, but big, and very nice.










We forgot our camera, so all the pictures we have was either taken with my laptop camera (the two above) or taken with my mom's cell phone.

When we arrived in Florida, my uncle and grandfather picked us up. They had come down about a week earlier with my other uncle and cousin, who had just left that morning. So for the next few days it would be me, mom, Uncle Jerry, and Scooge (my grandfather).

We had a good time. I felt like a jerk because I didn't talk much. I'm not very vocal when my mom is around... she's vocal enough for everyone. But it was nice have Scooge there. We kind of jab at him a lot because he's old and slow and whatnot. But it's all in fun, and he opens himself up to the teasing. Plus he's just a good guy.

My uncle took us around some of the surrounding areas the next few days and showed us where everything was, since we would be here a few days after he and my grandfather went back home. We went to Siesta Key (one of the top beaches in America), a pre-season Pirate game, and some local restaurants.

The first day or two I was not liking the sun. We were constanly in the sun... eating outside, driving with the top down, at the beach, or at a ball game... sun sun sun! I love the sun, but my light complected body needs a little time for adjustment, moving from 50 degree drizzle to 80 degree sunshine. I'm adjusted now, but there were a few moments of near misery in there. But the weather was beautiful. Sunny and about 80 every day, except one where it drizzled a bit with clouds, then cleared up by late afternoon.

I especially liked driving around in my uncles Mercedes convertible this weekend. There's just something fun about cruising down the highway with the wind in your hair and the sun on your shoulders. It made me feel very cool... and it made me really want a convertible!

I'm used to a life of conservitive, low-cost living. This was not that. All the stuff we were partaking of was not cheap, at least for the most part. My mom has been working a lot lately (the past few years especially) so she likes to flaunt her money from time to time... maybe not flaunt, but live it up or not feel like she needs to hold back. At least on vacation and sometimes in the day to day. I really don't like this. I've always worried about our (her) money situation, since I was a child.

I also wonder about if it's right to buy extravaganet or at least somewhat costly things, that are not necessary. People in Africa and Haiti are dying of malnutrition, and we're dishing out money for expensive tours or expensive meals. It kind of took away from the trip a bit. I'd actually prefer to spend less and just enjoy myself with the best things in life (which are free). Maybe it is ok to pamper yourself sometimes, I know I do... I just have trouble justifying it in my mind sometimes, be it toward myself or others.

I also was conflicted with where the money for much of this was coming from; my uncle. Not so much him, cause he's a good, generous guy. But he makes his living from cosmetic surgery. Not the kind where your kid was in an accident and their face no longer exists... more the kind where that 50 year old wants new boobs, that dude is tired of being bald, she wants to pretend she's 30 again, and he wants to lose 50 lbs without doing any work. Vanity. I think it's a major problem in America. There's a statistic where breast augmentation is one of the top graduation gifts being given to girls graduating high school. If I don't believe in this obsession and I don't believe in those who endorse it, how can I reap its financial rewards with a clear conscience?

Here's where some people think I'm crazy, but am I? It's a matter of morals and principles. And also logic. I'm somewhat perpetuating this, maybe only mildly and in an indirect way, but I am.

I don't mean to put a damper on the trip. It was great for the most part, and God was gracious with the weather. I would like to come back to Florida sometime soon with the friends. My mom was fine, but often our meals consisted of her texting and a lot of silence. There's only so much we have to say to each other... but we got along alright.

I really want to come back... and I want a convertible. So let me know when you have one for me! Not really... I'll just eat my fruits and vegetables and drive my '93 Suburu Impreza.



Maybe this post was a better fit for my other blog.