The asthma angel

I've never really thought about whether or not angels can have sicknesses, because quite frankly the reality of the answer to that question has never affected me, however today, the angel i was visited by had asthma, and because of it, my work was given purpose and through it significance.

Up until asthma angel's visit i had been slightly perturbed in my work. As some may know working for Alexander Kaiser almost always involves huge quantities of sand, the largest piles of rocks ever amassed by mankind, and all other thinkable abnormal objects and trash; and lest we forget the wheel barrel, with the name Arora spray painted on the side; yes of course that blessed orange, never flat wheel barrel, to be used to carry whatever material we are dealing with, from one side of the property another. And don't ask my father why or for what purpose, because you will rarely get an answer besides, "because I asked you to do it."

Today it was Aloe plants, like none ever seen. Planted into a solid embankment of large rocks, and stretching their fanged arms in every directly, effectively thwarting any potential of digging a shovel anywhere near its roots. I swear they were gigantic, and i snapped two ropes trying to pull them out with a truck.

Anyways, upon pulling the first one out, i dragged it to the road and began working on the second and most vicious of the aloe plants. Near the point where i would have sworn that i'd never remove that plant from its rock filled home, a van pulled up.

He stood just about 6 foot tall, roughly 35 years old; a thicker angel with a shaved head; tan skin and a Spanish accent. I never caught his name but he was a plumber and drove a white van.
I've never seen someone so excited to see aloe plants half way out of the ground. To his surprise i was getting rid of all of them, and to my surprise he asked if he could help me pull one out and load it into his van to take home.

"It helps with asthma," he said, as he opened up the double doors at the back of his van. "Take it to bed with you," i replied to his eager request.

It was then that he removed a shovel from his van and began working with me to get a large section of plant number 2 out of the ground, and it was then that i realized that angels must have sicknesses because this one did. After loading it up into his van, he thanked me very kindly, and went on his way. It was in this moment that i realized that Christ uses the ordinary, the practical things to teach us life's most important truths. He uses the middle aged men with asthma and his delight in aloe plants to reveal that even the mundane and everyday toil is ultimately significant, for while it all may seem like chasing after wind, it is to His glory that i labor, eat, read a book, write, or sleep.

Now i'll never know to what extent landscaping or shoveling large piles of dirt will glorify Christ, but maybe it does, maybe the small, mundane tasks that i perform everyday, are ultimately what helps to bring about Christ's kingdom today. i sure hope so, because sometimes that is the only thought that brings any significance to the all too often seemingly meaningless nature of this life.

Well, all i can truly say is that I've never been so proud to pull aloe plants out of the ground.

April 7, 2008

I've got 100 things keeping me from the the one thing I want more than anything. And must i forsake all things in order to find it, i think so. For while this painting inspires me to live and at that live well, i cannot serve it best without first a house to hang in. I've been storing it in a closet for a month now, and just about every day I take it out and stare into its depth, soak in its creativity, and ache to think that i must return it to its closet home to wait. Wait upon me to find a wall, and not just any wall; this painting deserves a fireplace, or better yet a kitchen table, I don't know; but something permanent-something right, something worthy of its color; but at the current time, i just don't have a house. 

Crazy dream

So i dreamt the other night that there was a girl sitting at a bus stop. I knew nothing of her other than the fact that she was 13 years old. Across the street stood a man with evil intent painted into his facial features. I knew something was wrong as he began to walk slowly toward her, yet I stood on the median motionless, incapable of interceding. With every step that the man took closer to the girl however, she became younger and younger, to the extent that by the time the man reached her location she was an infant, which he picked up and cradled in his arms. Then I woke up. 

Will i ever know

When hunger strikes and I've got food

Do i give until i starve?

When millions need their daily bread 

Should I still pay for college? 

How much good is good enough 

and is that even good enough? 

Does giving just enough for me to still have just enough even make sense? 

Of what worth is prayer when the answer all too often sits in my back right pocket? 

Majority swayed

i'm as constant as a streetlight on a timer; showing my colors to the longest line of cars. that is until there are no more waiting; then i change- but throw out a warning first, i never said I was committed. i almost wish you didn't count on me to be green, please don't choose another route. now i'll entertain those from another direction, but only for so long; like i said before: i'm changing. it's who i am. majority swayed.