All a blur

zach posting:

I apologize to all our readers for being so absent on this blog lately. It has been rare in the past month to find even 15 minutes to stop and think. Hopefully there is enough raw experience in this mind of mine that you will see a plethora (SAT words in action-Thanks Mom) of brilliant wall posts as I begin to process all that I have experienced. Here is a journal entry written in the 15 minutes before my softball game on Tuesday to give you a brief synopsis before getting into juicy details.

“Lord, help me to sit and reflect. I have been in the midst of such a whirlwind for the past month that it feels strange and unnatural to sit still and think. I have memories of vast frustration, loneliness, intense laughter, inexpressible joy, confusion, questioning my future and my present, being in awe of God’s power, yearning for God to show himself and single moments I desired to freeze in time and capture in memory.

Normally, when I have a crazy month like this it means that I am running or hiding from God by piling on so many activities that I never have time to stop and actually talk to him. Most likely, I already know what he is going to say and don’t want to hear it.

This time was different, however. I have felt like he has been at my side every step of the way, whispering into my ear. The only problem is, I haven’t had a chance to listen and am now stuck wondering ‘what is next?’ and I fear that he already told me. I hope that I do not lose the lessons that are at the core of these experiences for what is the point of experiencing anything if we do not learn from it? Even if what we learn is as simple as learning about the joy of a single moment caught in the midst of chaos.

I feel like I have been in a time of blessing where everything I do whether good or bad has been used by God to glorify himself. I have seen multiple people experience turning points in their lives that will leave them changed forever. I am uncomfortable in this situation, however, because I am completely out of control. None of the good has come the way I had planned. All I can do is sit and pray that the blessing continues because I have no understanding of how to keep it going.”

The final note of wisdom I left for myself the following day is “Learn to be more comfortable in uncontrolled situations.” A wise, but completely unpractical piece of advice: how do you learn to be more comfortable?

Trees in Kabul

From Dan:

Breath in the dust. Inhale it deeply, fully. Let it fill your nostrils and slowly close your life-line to this world. Go to that other world where shopping occurs in bazaars, goats lay chained to a pole awaiting slaughter and children sort the trash from the dump in a wheel barrel. This is a man’s world; a lost world. Buildings stagger, half in-tact from years of bombing; the land sits desolate - trees haven’t been seen for decades, since before the Russians invaded. Someday soon, though, a root will burrow deep and a trunk shall spring forth. And many will come to call the shade of this tree home.

“They have no knowledge who carry about their wooden idols, and keep on praying to a god that cannot save…Turn to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other.” - Isaiah 45:20,22

Hungry, Hungry, Hungry

Bobby posting:

Starting today at noon, me, my wife, my dear mentor Taido, and a group of high school students began a 30 Hour Famine.  It is a World Vision sponsored event (check out 30hourfamine.org for some info) that raises money and awareness for hunger across the world.  We all ate lunch around noon and won’t eat again until 6 o’clock tomorrow night.  We’ll spend the evening together here at church.  Weather permitting, we’ll just throw down sleeping bags and sleep outside in the lawn.  Tomorrow morning we’ll wake up, have some devotional time, and then get hard to work on some service projects…all of this without eating a bite.

Pray for us.  Pray for us as leaders.  Especially pray for our students.  We hope that this awakens something inside of them that may have not existed before.  I just got a phone call from a couple of students that wanted to come up to the church 3 hours early because they were already tempted to eat.  I’m glad they were honest and am already committed to praying for these guys.  I’ll tell you how everything went when we come out of this experience.

my friend bill

a post from adam.

i am not a watch guy. i don’t get excited about unique wristbands, oversized faces, or gps features. i rarely notice another person’s wristpiece as an accessory, and then it is usually in annoyance at how much they must have overspent.

but lately, i have been wearing a watch that retails for $499. Yes, four hundred and ninety-nine buckaroos. Which could buy a guy like me two or three months of groceries. Or a subscription to MLB.TV for 4 years. Or an XBox 360, two extra controllers, and Madden ‘08. the list could go on. i wear this watch, which is a Suunto X6 by the way, more than any other accessory i have ever owned (high school fake Oakleys included).

I sit next to this guy Bill, who has worked at Wilson for over 30 years. He designs Wilson’s factories for tennis balls. Which means, he dictates where the conveyer belts run and where the bright yellow felt dries. He knows the cost of Natural Rubber by the pound, of felt by the yard. He wrote the Quality Control book that standardizes every ingredient of a Wilson tennis ball, from rebound height to seam width. Try to imagine making FOUR MILLION units of anything exactly the same. That’s right, we are chasing perfection; and then imitating the ideal ball four to five million times per year.

So Bill is an engineer. Down to his short-sleeved button downs and parted hair. He even thinks symmetrically. every day, he enters the office at 8am and leaves at 5pm, taking a lunch break from 12 noon til 1pm. every single day, exactly. at the end of each month, he gathers a large grocery bag full of diet coke cans (which he drinks like water) and carries the plastic bag over his shoulder like a sack full of presents to go home and recycle. he is a creature of exact habit.

bill is my best friend in the office. i arrive every day between 830 and 845, and we talk until around 9. we talk about slow pitch softball, politics, religion, our families. and we ask specific questions…like why is a high-arching softball pitch so hard to hit? or why is it that in the nba a superstar can take over a game, but in the nfl one player can hardly carry a team? or why is it so hard for an identical twin to go off and get married?

bill is an identical twin, and an athlete, and he tolerates corporate life with the same balance of gratitude and disdain that i have quickly learned. we have these things in common. but what i love so much about this man is that he is fiercely loyal.

just this week, our other friend dan, who is a good guy and fancies himself a jokester, walked by the workspace bill and i share. i offered dan a ride home. he cheerfully accepted, and then added, “thanks, adam. the next time bill talks shit about you, i’ll make sure to tell him that you’re a great guy.” he started to walk away, amused at the joke i have now heard him tell four times, before bill hollered, “i’d never say a thing about adam. i’m always on his side! he’s like one of my children.” dan laughed, and kept walking. and i suppose he thought bill was kidding.

about three months ago, bill was leaving for lunch at about 11:59am, and he leaned over the top of my cubicle wall, “hey adam, would you ever wear a watch?” he whispered. “sure bill,” i said. “i have never been a big watch guy, but i’ve just never really owned one.” he left, and shortly after, i took the elevator to the second floor to take my break. when i returned to my desk, two small cardboard boxes sat unopened next to my keyboard. bill had me try on both watches, and pick my favorite. “my son never really liked them,” he said.

so i wear the suunto x6 with pride. i have absolutely no idea how to follow the compass, or read the barometer, or even set the alarm. but it is worth two months of groceries every time i look down and remember bill’s kindness.

to follow, here is bill’s email to me today. ladies, no harm intended…

Hi Adam:

I would imagine you know everything there is to know about women……but just in case you don’t…………here are some VERY helpful hints in communicating with women.

Always watching your back,

Bill

9 WORDS WOMEN USE

1. Fine : This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2. Five Minutes : If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before leaving for a dinner party.

3. Nothing : This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

4. Go Ahead : This is a dare, NOT permission. Don’t Do It !!!

5. Loud Sigh : This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6. That’s Okay : This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That’s okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7. Thanks : A woman is thanking you, do not question, or begin any additional discussion. Just say you’re welcome.

8 . Whatever : Is a women’s way of saying SCREW YOU!9. Don’t worry about it, I got it : Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking “What’s wrong?” For the woman’s response refer to #3.

Making sense out of 75 cents

bobby posting:

“I believe that we don’t have to change friends
if we understand that friends change.”

Nearing midnight, sitting in a Jimmy Johns sandwich shop in downtown Milwaukee, I looked around at two of my best friends in the world. These were two of the guys I grew closest to in college. In fact, two of the guys that share this blogspace with me. There we were, 3/4ths of via chicago. 1 quarter of us missing because he was serving the medical needs of the people of Afghanistan. I’d driven 9 hours from the deep South and my only expectation for the trip was to have some good time with my boys. I chomped down on some enormous sub while reading posters all over the walls. Then I came across one with the quote at the top of the page. It’s the kind of thing somebody may have emailed you at one time or another. Like Footprints in the Sand or that darn “wear your sunscreen” song, it caught me off guard with its little truths…despite the inherent cheesiness factor. Interestingly enough, it was something I’d been thinking about a lot on this short trip.

My friends had changed. Nothing terribly drastic or life shattering. At their core, I knew these were the same guys I’ve always known. But there were little changes like expensive jeans and kicks and haircuts and hoodies. And bigger things like a different outlook on cultivating new relationships and keeping old ones intact. There were new church experiences and convictions. There were new long-term dreams and desires.

One of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met in my life went through a long stretch of thinking during our freshman year of college. For anonymity’s sake, lets call her Lily. Lily was a lover and a dreamer and was one of those people that was great to talk to for an hour or two in a dorm suite. During one of those conversations, she sprang upon me the following question: “Bobby, do you believe people change?” I had no answer. While walking to class for the next few weeks, she’d tell me how she visited home and caught up with her old high school friends. She couldn’t figure out if they were changing or if things were just different as time had passed. I’m not sure if Lily ever came up with an answer, but the idea always stuck with me.

Nearing midnight, sitting in a Jimmy Johns sandwich shop in downtown Milwaukee, I looked around at two of my best friends in the world. The general innocence of these guys appeared to have been broken-in like those old pants they wore every day in college. There seemed to be a newfound self-awareness that I never would’ve pinpointed before. I didn’t know how to take any of this in, so I decided to just let it soak.

After a week or so, I’ve come to this conclusion: “Lily, people do change.” And it’s really not a bad thing. That is if you understand that it’s just change. There’s certainly some adjusting and discovering to do, but isn’t that what growing up is all about? I am excited that these guys are starting to branch out and beginning to learn who they really are. And I do hope that they feel the same way about whatever change they saw in me. But my prayer and dream is that, no matter what we’re wearing, all of us will simply seek, as David did, to be “men after God’s own heart.”

a new lil’ poem

a post from adam: i have been wanting some feedback on some of my latest poetry, but have had trouble finishing projects. i am not sure this poem is yet completed, but here it is in its current form…

it’s also worth noting that one of the similes that appears in this poem came from a journal entry that appeared on this website…enjoy.

 

Lapham Peak 3.22.08

 

for scott

 

Today we hiked six miles from our parked car

and paused. Here was the shaded, quiet grove.

I said out loud of the tree-stuck snow,

it has been painted on as elegant

 

as eyliner. You said, yes. And as the last

of last night’s make-up rolled down her cheek bones,

how it felt a secret had been told!

We lingered there, full eyed at the charm

 

of wet limbs nodding like horses, white scarves

unraveling as manes at full gallop,

and snow dust unsettled from shadow

as the pounding hoof will scatter sand.

 

Do we not long for these cobwebbed lands,

Beyond the sterile grip of human sorrow?

Wild and free as cowboys, as the snow,

dirty as stray dogs, and as triumphant,

 

we moved at last from this dream in the dark.

the Holy Spirit

Bobby posting:

Disclaimer: This was a myspace posting I made in February of 2007 while working in Eastern Kentucky as a broadcast journalist. Someone just now commented on it the other day and brought it back to my attention. Hope it’s still relevant for you. I’m laying it down right here without the editing that should happen when you look at something a year later, especially something with such “deep thought”. Here you go:

God, Me, Jiminy?

I’ve been racking by brain recently on how to listen to God more clearly throughout my daily life. Throughout last summer, while applying to 40-plus broadcast jobs across the continental United States, I’d find myself playing mind-games with myself. I was checking my email for responses from prospective employers on a ridiculus basis. Every 10 minutes, I’d stroll by the computer screen and take a glance for something. I eventually felt like maybe I should relax a little bit and not allow myself to become so addicted and dependent on hearing something. I “felt” like God was telling me to just let it go, trust Him, and check my email once in the morning and once at night. In between those times, I felt like He wanted me to have the freedom of a worry-free day.
But here’s where it can become fuzzy…I knew on my own that there was no reason to become an email-aholic. And I believed in this on my own accord. Why would I feel the need to have God “speak” to me on this? Perhaps it was just something I knew on my own and needed to act on on my own will.

Or…perhaps it was just a deeper part of my conscience. Perhaps it was a place that I have no control of. I’d refer to this place as Jiminy. The wise Cricket speaks to me often, guiding me throughout the day, tugging on my shoulders when I need guidance. So…on that daily basis throughout last summer. was it God, Me, or Jiminy? Who was speaking and guiding?

The other night, after working 6 days a week for a full month, I found myself driving alone on an empty highway on the outskirts of Eastern Kentucky. I felt like God was asking me to just stop, pull over, catch my breath, relax, come to him, pray, rest…all of the above. Why? Why would God want me to pull over on the side of a highway in the middle of the night? Perhaps this was just me or Jiminy, a part of me feeling guilty for working myself too much, for working myself out of a daily conversation with Jesus. The drive brought back last summer’s email journey. Well, I didn’t pull over and I didn’t rest until the next morning when I felt like God was telling me to just sit down in the shower before beginning another week of non-stop movement.

I know this is circular to the point of speaking without answers. But it’s something I struggle with. God doesn’t really speak to us verbally nowadays or get all caught up in transfiguration. Is it God speaking, is it just me, or is it my conscience?

I do not know. But I do know that in those moments that one of the three is telling me to pull over or relax or sit down…that if I listen to whomever is asking, regardless of which of the three I believe it to be…that God will show up in that moment and speak to me. I don’t believe He cares how I get to a point where I’ll listen…I think he just wants me to hear.

Another Awesome Idea…

Bobby Posting:

My posting today is simple. Wait, all of my postings are meant to be simple. All right then…todays post is meant to be extra simple.

I have a problem with t-shirts. Well my first problem with t-shirts is that I like them too much. But apparently that’s very normal for somone like me (click on the light-colored font for a link). My real problem though is with t-shirt sizes. First off, I am stuck right in-between sizes. I prefer to refer to it as “MARGE”…though some may enjoy saying “LEDIUM” if they choose (Although I must admit “SCHEDIUM” is more fun…if only I were a little smaller). If I buy a Medium t-shirt, it’s generally a bit too tight in the chest and a little too short in the length and the sleeves. I realize Abercrombie tried to coin “muscle tees” along these exact measurements, but I like my t-shirts to show off my carefree attitude, not my ripped abs and biceps. Although I may think differently if I possessed either of those qualities. As for Larges, they’re usually a bit too baggy, a bit too long, and a bit too roomy in the arms. I am stuck, smack right in-between both.

But the real problem isn’t that I’m stuck in-between…it’s that many mediums actually fit me. And it’s also that many larges fit me as well. There is no standard for what a t-shirt size should actually be. I have two t-shirts from a little company called J-Crew. They’re made from the same fabric and everything. They fit exactly the same. But get this: one is a small…the other an extra large! Are you serious?! Something needs to be done.

What I propose right here in this blog is something revolutionary. It’s something so bold that I’m going to step out of my office and look down the hallway both ways before I come back to type it. Okay…the coast is clear:

I propose universal t-shirt sizes!

I know, it’s crazy. But before you get all hot and bothered, just hear me out. Imagine never having to try on a t-shirt again. Imagine never worrying about what size t-shirt you ordered online or over the phone. If you’re a small, the shirt will fit like a small. Every single one will fit the same. Whether you’re buying from one of the greatest online t-shirt sites ever, or the newest thing to take over every female’s free-will…the shirts will have the same dimensions and the same cuts. There will be universal sizes like there should one day be a universal currency. Really, is this asking too much? Is the U.N. busy with anything else? If George W. really wanted to go out with a bang…this is the way to do it.

Live from Afghanistan…

Daniel’s in Afghanistan doing a medical clinic right now. Here’s pieces of his first email back:

Yesterday we conducted a community health fair and saw 232 people from 8 am to 3 pm. It went great in terms of the showing and our efficiency. The hardest piece was communicating the concept of a health screening to the people. Since there is zero preventive health in Afghanistan, people don’t get the idea of shots, etc. ahead of time (before acute illness), much less the concept of a “health evaluation” that gathers data rather than treats their problems. Dr. Wagima, the female director of the outpatient clinic (Afghan native) did a great job of explaining this to the patients, but it didn’t stop them from meandering around looking for another person in a lab coat (like me) to pester about muscular pains (from lifestyle, not illness) to get medicine for. Although we are running some reports of this data, we are mainly brainstorming how to modify the screenings ask more direct questions and to revamp some of our hypothesis (there is much less anemia than we thought - at least coming from this one community). The most encouraging piece of the whole health fair, I must admit, was that a group of 12 high school girls who came to volunteer (and who we coerced into translating even though they were incredibly timid) and became very excited about becoming community health workers as a consequence. Some were even professing an interest in the medical profession; really, this is our dream: to have young people get excited to take our work back to their communities in a sustainable way for years to come.

Medically, stuff is crazy. In PEDS ward we have 2 patients with liver problems. One has a cyst that needs an operation. His belly is swollen and discolored. Unfortunately, the child’s father has grown inpatient with our differential diagnosis strategy and search for a clear understanding of the kid’s problem. He’s demanding meds and eager to return home. We worried this afternoon when we noticed the father and son on the steps of the hospital appearing to be preparing for their 17 hour walk home (luckily they returned for the surgery later). The other child has a belly rivaling the beer belly of any 40 year-old baseball fan (at the age of 6 or 7 - age is nominal here, no one knows when they were born). Jerry and Chris (our pediatricians) are unsure of the diagnosis as of yet - it could be a cyst, liver tb, hepatic hypertension or metastatic cancer. It’s incredibly sad to see. There are just so many abnormalities. Many, like club feet and gastroschisis, are likely the result of poor genetic combinations (such as first cousins marrying). Then, there are the deformities caused by the lack of access to good health care. This was the case with a little girl of 4 who I screened yesterday. Annie (our nurse) noticed that her spinal column was misshapen…then, as I laid her in the baby basket for her weight I noticed her poor responsiveness: she was the first child not to squirm or cry. Even when I laid her on the scale and her mother’s hand slipped from under her head causing it to clunk against the wooden scale, she only gasped a 2 second cry then immediately returned to sleep. (She was admitted to the ER, and, shockingly enough acted completely normal 1 hour later with perfect reflexes. Our docs got from the mom that she most likely caused the child to overdose of meds that she picked up from the pharmacy…on a side note, this is a HUGE problem here. There is no need for a prescription to get medicine. Just walk up to the pharmacist and ask for what you want and you’ll get it 90% of the time).

Culturally, many things are different. When I take women’s blood pressures, I must divert my eyes from theirs and not even look into their face. Many are ok rolling up the sleeves of their burkas, but some act flustered and cover the bare skin where my stethoscope is not with the drooping burka of their other arm. Some look ashamed and cover their mouths. It’s as if they know their husband’s mind and fear his standards of modesty - even when apart from them. Luckily, I haven’t made the mistake of offering my hand to a women yet, but I did forget about crossing my legs out in front of me (showing the bottom of your feet is a sign of disrespect). At lunch, the men and women sit at different tables and converse separately. And, of course, my beard is only a small culturally sensitive piece of the appearance puzzle that includes long pants and sleeves and a vest (and many times a turban).

Well, I hope this opens your eyes to some of what we are seeing and doing here. I hope to write more soon and maybe even include more photos.

Rolex

I thought it was weird when I went to the Europe for the first time and saw Mercedes buses and cars speckling the road like they were Honda Civics…but check this out: Dubai has so much money that they basically throw it away - your introduction to the Rolex airport clock. - Dan