Day1 Blog

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For any of you who may still be following this blog, I have also started blogging as a Key Voice blogger for Day1.org. You can find my first post here.

CPT

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Mourning

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I was fine. For about three years I had been preparing myself for that day; I knew it was coming soon. I always asked myself what I'd do when it happened. Would I be upset? If I was, would I show it? Would the world stop spinning? What about everyone else; how would they react? It seemed like that day would never come, but then it did. And as soon as it did it started to feel like a distant memory--fading at first around the edges, creeping its way towards the center of my memory like a dissolving acid. We hadn't been home long. Our move back across the Mississippi River was a long haul, but we were here, back where there were hills, pork barbecue, and boiled peanuts. We hadn't even unpacked the boxes in our temporary rent house. I was getting used to the routine (or lack thereof) of being the "new guy" when my phone rang. I knew who it was and what they were going to say: "She's getting worse. It won't be much longer now. Can you do the funeral?...
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Life, liberty, and property

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Why are we in love with stuff? Stuff breaks. Stuff gets old. Stuff wears out. Stuff is expensive. So why do we love it? I say we because I love stuff too. Of course, I'd like to think my stuff is a bit more socially acceptable, but at the end of the day it's really just more stuff. Stuff is a symbol of our spending power--our worth. Stuff gives us control, grants us status. Stuff clutters our hallways and offices, yet we don't want to get rid of it, because we know we'll just go out and get more. There are people who have serious issues with stuff; we call them hoarders. However, the strange thing is no one has ever come to my home, seen some stuff I don't use, and say, "Hey man, why you got all this stuff over here that you don't use? Are you a hoarder?" I don't know. Maybe we're all not that obsessed with stuff, but it does say something that we live in a country with an entire industry built around storing excess stuff. I'd like to ...
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Kids think the darndest things...

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"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways." The Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13:11 When I was a child... I assumed everyone somehow started out the same way I did. They all came from the same sort of family with they same sort of resources. Everyone had the same experiences and the same opportunities. When I was a child... I thought there came a point in one's life where he or she purposefully decided to "make it" or simply get by. I thought those who were broke, poor, in jail or on the street wound up in those situations by their own free will. When I was a child... I thought crimes were committed by those who were purely evil and couldn't possibly have any good in them, those kinds of people who did bad things because they were bad people. When I was a child... My eyes were covered with the rose colored glasses of childhood, my horizons were only as broad...
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