I'm sure it has to be frustrating for a God who loves to give and in so doing, His people forget that the gift came from Him. Somehow if left to our selfish devices, we will inevitably end up believing it was our own doing. How can we break this cycle and live in a state of humility and gratitude?  How can we keep our ego's in check when they are so prone to swell?  One obvious solution to this is to push away any blessing or comfort that God might extend to us. I tend not to like this solution because it would break my heart as Noah's father if my son constantly rejected any good thing I wanted to give to him. If God constantly takes us from nothing, and brings us into a "land flowing with milk and honey," He has to believe that we at least possess the capability to accept blessing without letting it corrupt us. I believe that a constant pursuit of knowing God is what is required. When I become self absorbed and focused on myself, that is when I begin to lose focus of where my provision comes from.  When I take God out of the equation that is my life, I begin forgetting how truly blessed I actually am... I find that I revert to feeling entitled to more and I become disillusioned with my sense of lack. It's ironic that sometimes the most loving thing that God does is take our sense of comfort away. What is used as a crutch is knocked out from underneath us and we fall back to the floor and in the process we regain our equilibrium and begin the process of trying to stand again. It's almost as if we are a people that are all using crutches when we are healthy enough to walk on our own two feet. Maybe God is in the business of taking away the comfortable lazy ride of the wheel chair and replacing it with the tough journey of regaining feeling back in our malnourished and rarely used limbs. May we be reminded today that God gives us the power to receive wealth. May we remind ourselves often lest we forget this important truth. May we stand securely in the fact that we serve a God who enjoys blessing His children in very deliberate ways and only calls us not to forget Him in the process.

I'm starting to understand what a football kicker goes through when the opposing team calls a timeout right before he attempts a field goal.  I failed the Maryland home Improvement exam almost 3 weeks ago, and since then I have been waiting to retake it.  You'd think 3 weeks wouldn't feel like that long since I've been waiting for about 10 years ever since I figured out a was an entrepreneur and wanted to own my own business. I'm just trying to find things to keep myself engaged since I don't really do well with periods of time where I am supposed to wait. 

Jenn and I have been having a little bit of a difficult time lately because she can sense how restless I am.  It usually causes me to act impatient and frustrated, but I try to limit these reactions even though I believe they're attached to my frustration with having to wait.  We find ourselves in two different places right now, and we both can't quite bridge that gap.  We know it's temporary, so we're not too worried about it.  We have spent time apart at a couple of points in our relationship while we were long distance, so we've grown accustomed to having to deal with being apart locationally or emotionally or both. 

I am retaking the exam this upcoming Thursday and then I have about a month to wait for them to process my application.  Then I can move on from this state of waiting and that day can't come soon enough.

At men's Bible Study, we got on the subject of trust in a marriage... To tell you the truth, I had never thought about how difficult it would be to navigate through a marriage where the trust was removed from the equation.  Jenni and my issues seem difficult enough, but when I look at other marriages where there is little to no trust, it makes the issues in my marriage look trivial at best.  Maybe after almost 5 years of marriage, I'm still naive.  Maybe I'm still among the newbies whose journey hasn't been tested by fire yet.  It's as if my journey hasn't been treacherous enough for my experience to be validated yet.

Is there really anyway not to sound full of yourself by giving marital advice being only 5 years in? Nope.  This is why I usually just keep quiet. It's a hopeless feeling to want to help but when you find that you are usually one of the younger people in the groups you hang out with, people aren't going out of their way to ask for your advice... and I'm loath to give advice that isn't asked for.  Even though I'm naturally drawn towards wanting to mentor and coach others, I am going to have to be patient and wait for my age and experience to catch up.  Better to actually be sought out rather than perpetually handing out unasked for advice.

To the old friend who came with his hat in hand and re set our dislocated friendship.  To the man that made things right and removed the wedge from between us.  To the guy who is like a brother to me and has earned my respect today more than any day since we first started hanging out. To the friend who reminded me what it means to be a man of humility and how to be a true friend. To my hope that I can repay your friendship in turn and show you that I will never allow anything to come between us again.

Still recovering from Monica and Jay's wedding yesterday.  Jenn and Noah are both asleep, and I am in the next room listening to Iron & Wine and thinking about the ridiculous amount of fun we had last night.  Weddings are a lot of fun, and this particular wedding was the most fun I've ever had at one. Jenn was in the bridal party so we got to hangout with the other bridesmaids/groomsmen.  I got to make a lot of new friends and enjoy their company for the day. I don't know if it was because of the fun people who went, or the beautiful venue, or the open bar, or any of the other number of things that made it a memorable day.  All I know is that I didn't want to leave even though I could barely stay standing up towards the end of the night.  I could have done with a few less 80's songs during the dance part of the night, but other than that, I had a blast.

Another great thing was picking up Noah this morning.  It had been a couple of days since Jenn and I had seen him, and on the ride home, he just had this dumb grin pasted on his face as he looked at both of us in the rearview mirror.  I found that I stared back at him with the same stupid grin.

I'm familiar with the saying "the proof is in the pudding," but I have to say lately that this saying isn't true for me.  Lately for me, the proof has been in choosing not to eat the pudding.  Anyone who knows me knows that one of my favorite things to do is eat.  Anything that trumps this priority in my life is very... VERY important to me.  The last couple of weeks, I've skipped lunch all together.  Now, I know what you're thinking.  The real Josh is locked in a broom closet somewhere, and the dude writing this somehow got his hands on some polyjuice potion and is putting it to good use. 

On my short drive to work, I'm visualizing meeting with a customer.  I walk into their home wearing my official looking polo shirt with my logo on my left breast.  I shake their hand and I kindly decline when they offer me a drink.  They take me on a short tour of the area that they are wanting to remodel and I ask questions about what they envision for it. I'm taking pictures with my cell phone and I'm measuring the size of the area and I'm making notes.  After all of this, I sit down across from them and I ask them various pointed questions like: How would you like me to price your job?  In other words, is high quality your priority?  Or are you more concerned with a more economical bottom line?  How do you like to be communicated with?  When are you most free in your schedule so that I can set our various appointments during those times.  Your total price will include my design help throughout the process, but if you were wanting to do it on your own or hire your own designer, I can give you a price break.  I go on to explain what separates me from the competition.  Throughout the process, they see the forethought and they are impressed. They like me as a person and that raises their comfort level and they begin to trust me.  By the time I leave I have a feeling that, I've got this sale in the bag.  As I'm walking out the door, I'm on my phone sending pictures and measurements to some of the contractors that I believe will be the right fit for the customer I'm working with.  I choose the guy who gives me a lower price and I get an idea of his schedule.  I figure out what money I will need to make on the job, and by this time I've made it home so I can write up the estimate and send it to the customer.

It's a bit weird if you ask me, but I am a bit of an odd sort anyways, so this is to be expected.  It's a great feeling to truly believe that you are approaching the work and life that God had planned for you all along.  Like you're finally able to wear clothes that fit you or you've finally finished all of your general education courses and you're able to finally start focusing on your chosen major.It's a feeling of such intense excitement, I have to will myself to focus while I'm at work, while I'm at home.  I am going through the process of getting a home improvement license and I called their office five consecutive days last week to check the status of the registration form I had faxed in.  Finally, the office lady told me to give it another weeks wait before calling back.  "Don't worry m'am... I've got important stuff to do in the meantime... Like trying on my company logo shirt on a few more hundred times."

I've been talking to my brother lately about writing.  I look up to him a great deal as he is a very talented writer.  We talked a bit about different styles of writing and choosing a way of writing that suits  us as individuals.  I've been writing periodically and have tried various kinds of writing to see what suits me personally.  The more I try to stretch myself to write poetry, it just ends up sounding forced and disingenuine.  The more I try to write self help, the more I find I'm trying to sound smarter than I actually am.  The worst thing for any writer is dishonesty.  People can sniff out a fraud faster than I can eat a meal... And even if I could fool everyone while being something that I'm not, the writing itself would hold no enjoyment for me.  Probably the deepest fulfillment for a writer would be complete honesty with ones self and their audience.  Even if a person may not see things the way I see the world, they can at least appreciate where I'm coming from.

The more I've laid aside my fear of people who are not like me, the more I realize there isn't anything to be afraid of.  The scary monsters that were said to be under the bed in fact don't exist. This method of fear is an effective tool to keep people thinking and believing the way group think wants them to.  Growing up in the church, I found that many relied on those four walls as their protection.  Some would come to use that protection as a hiding place where they could hide from the things that they don't understand.  I know because I used to be one of these people.  In some aspects I still am afraid.  Whenever I see articles about gay rights activists there is still a small part of me that rises up and says "it's us against them.  This is a battle and they are the enemy, etc, etc." Sadly, I have to remind myself that this is just my fear of those who aren't like me.  It was never us against them... It's always just been us.  It's flawed humanity all trying to find meaning and happiness in life. We are alike in this, but we are different in many ways, but this isn't cause for fear.  Daily I have to choose to lay aside my fear of the unfamiliar, and embrace that which is different.

I am reminded of my own sin and my longing to love others the way that Christ loves them.  Not at arms length, but in a dirty and muddy embrace.  I used to be so angry when I would read stories about the religious Pharisees of Jesus' day.  Their pomposity and arrogance consumed them.  Their perfectly clean garments and their impeccable observance of the law justified their crushing judgement of the people around them.  Their worldview was that of separation from the common sinner.  This ideology allowed them the excuse to stay clear from the contamination of the world they lived in.  The more I come to understand the person of Jesus, the more I realize that he wanted us to know that he was one of us.  He wasn't afraid of getting down in the mud with us and if that weren't enough, He chose to die and was hung between a couple of thieves.  Simon Peter didn't want Jesus to wash his feet, but Jesus said "unless I wash you, you have no part of me." I feel as if Jesus was saying that he came to serve and to be apart of the filth of the world we live in, because unless he was truly apart of our world, we could never truly be apart of his.  John Maxwell said it this way... "In order to take someone where you are going, you have to meet them where they're at, take them by the hand, and only then can you take them with you.

In some way, I hope my writing can encourage some to put down their swords that were drawn out of fear and put away the shields that they hide behind.  Maybe a son just needs to hear from a father that they are loved rather than all the reasons why he is wrong and they are right.  Maybe a brother just need to know that his younger brother loves him.  Not because of a common view of God or worldview.  Not because he is anything like me or because he has chosen a similar direction in life. I love him because of the great man that he is.  I love him because his honest search for truth encourages me in mine.  And really I love him because of the fact that he's one of my best friends and he's earned every right to that title.

Had a great conversation with a friend tonight. It's great to see someone who is serious about figuring things out and humble enough to talk about their imperfect life.  Welcome to the club brother.  Glad we can add you to the list of men who want to figure out how to care for the woman in their life.

I think I'm ready to go home.  I've had my fun, and I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in Texas, but I miss my family.  I miss home. Tonight, one of my good friends is getting married.  We will eat, and drink, and will dance and I had such a big lunch I don't feel like I'll be hungry until sometime next week. The sun is hot here and it has taken a lot out of me and I hope I will be able to keep up with the pace of the festivities later on.

Shades of orange and red and white is all I can see as I stare at the back of my eye lids. Dry Texas heat warms my face and I can feel the soft tickle of the cool grass through my thin plaid shirt. The only sound I hear is the Weepies through my earphones as I bask in the warmth of the day. I briefly open my eyes to steal a glimpse of my surroundings. Romantics sprawled out on the grass. A father walking behind a curious toddler intent on exploration. A husband's quiet conversation to their spouse on a park bench. This raw state of happiness is only made more fine with the realization that these familiar people surrounding me are my friends. I close my eyes again and get lost in the perfect playlist...

Joshua Radin's raspy voice gives way to Deb Talan's lone beautiful song that fills one with a sense of nostalgia.  A confusing mixture of sadness and happiness intermingles as I tap into the wealth of rich memory that surrounds each friend. Every late night conversation and every word of advice.  Every knowing silence from a listener and every knowing laugh from one of many inside jokes.  Each memory flits across my mind and fills the reservoir of my heart to breaking.  As I wipe my moist eyes with the back of my hand, I abandon myself to the musically induced coma that washes over me as Iron & Wine lulls me into a happy and contented sleep.

Waking up when Noah usually gets up is something I've gotten fairly used to doing.  I still find it odd though that I do it even when he's not here. I'm in Austin, TX for a wedding, and Jenn and Noah are at home. It's nice to be able to have time with some of my old friends and their children.  When I hear the patter of little feet, or their laughter, or crying... I'm reminded of how I miss my son.

Yesterday was a lot of fun. Flew into Austin about 4:45pm and met up with my friend Nathan and his girlfriend Brittney.  We went grocery shopping and bought stuff for that night and the next morning.  It took awhile to get to where we were staying but it was definitely worth the drive. The place is up on a mountain and it is beautiful not to mention quite large. It has a hot tub which we got to soak in last night. There is something about the hot water that pulls deeper conversation out of you. That's at least how it's always been for me and my old friends ever since High School. We had burgers and beer and sweet potato fries and laughed till we cried. Mark brought some good wine and we enjoyed each others' company.  The ebb and flow of relationships over the years has been tough, but it has been a blessing to have these same friends throughout high school and college.

I am so blessed...

The more I write, the more I am convinced that writing comes easier to the inspired.  Inspiration isn't waiting for lightning to strike as some would believe.  Inspiration can be God given, but I am also finding that inspiration is searched for, and can be found.  One's heart, soul, and mind is a spot of soil that can be enriched.  I find that what I put in tends to come out.  I find that when my soul is pierced by something sad, or beautiful, it spills out onto the page.

I truly believe that some of the most beautiful art was created out of the deepest heart ache.  Horatio Spafford lost his 4 year old son, his whole business was lost in the Chicago fire of 1871, and his four daughters with the exception of his wife drowned in the Atlantic after a collision with another ship. It was on a ship near the place where his four daughters had died where he was inspired to write the well know hymn, It Is Well with My Soul.

I believe art is a creations' expression of it's Creator's genius.  To design a creation that bleeds was one of God's greatest gifts to us. I always used to be afraid of pain, but I have found pain to be one of the motivators for artistic expression.  I believe art is produced when normal means of communication fall short of conveying the hearts deepest hurts, joys, longings... For some it is a musical instrument.  For others it is a canvas.  For me it is a page.  It is on this page where I choose to let my heart bleed.

Just received the below verse from a dear friend and business coach. It's so great that God chooses to use his people as his mouthpiece. 


Proverbs 16:1-4

1To humans belong the plans of the heart,
    but from the Lord comes the proper answer of the tongue.

² All a person’s ways seem pure to them,
    but motives are weighed by the Lord.

³ Commit to the Lord whatever you do,
    and he will establish your plans.

⁴ The Lord works out everything to its proper end

I went to a broadway musical tonight with a lot of old people who take themselves way to seriously.  One dude was wearing a white turtle neck with a black suit jacket, and I was tempted to tell him that his choice of clothes hasn't been cool since the early 90's. We were given the tickets and it really was a good show.  Some of the broadway musical numbers I didn't care much for, but the songs from Broadway musicals like Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and Mamma Mia! I enjoyed. We also got to hear the old wives of old husbands give a not so quiet play by play during the musical.  It would be pretty annoying if it wasn't so pathetically cute. I'll probably be doing the same thing when I'm about 110 so I figure I shouldn't dog them too much.

At one point, I almost pulled a gut muscle because some old lady was opening a mint or something with an extra crinkly wrapper. It's hard to describe the hilarity of this moment because you really had to be there.  The wrapper started crinkling and my guess is this lady couldn't get it open because about a minute later, I looked over at Jenn and smiled trying not to lol (I've always wanted to use this in a sentence).  Then I'm not kidding but for about another straight minute, the wrapper was continually being crinkled.  It was taking every ounce of self control to hold in my laughter. I'm not certain, but I felt my abs after this and they were stronger and firmer than they were prior to that bit of comedy.  This was definitely one of the bright spots of my evening.

One other thing that was a first for me was standing in a long line for the Men's Bathroom while there was NO line for the women's.  This completely was perplexing to me until I entered the men's room and I was the only dude without a cane.  Actually, I take that back... There was one other guy without a cane.  It was the dude with the white turtleneck and black suit jacket.

All in all it was a very entertaining evening.

A job for an entrepreneur is merely a cushy jail cell or a terminal patient making themselves comfortable while they wait.

I feel like I'm not going to have too much trouble remembering today.  One of the most frustrating and exciting days of my life.  Last night I got to hangout with some friends of mine.  One of them owns a business that nets around $1.6 million a year.  My other friend has just recently been making some strides in the business world and is really starting to pick up some momentum.  Me, on the other hand, work a 9-5 and am extremely frustrated that I don't own a business. The more time around some of these great friends, just was a nagging reminder of wondering what the next step is, and how to get there.

I've been working really hard on trying to figure out a business that would work for Jenni and I.  This didn't seem like it would be such a big challenge, but when you have no capital, and you want to make sure you don't end up doing something that you hate, successful or no, it becomes a much bigger challenge.  Last night was about the 5th business that has been a dead end.  In the beginning, it sounds like a great deal, but after closer inspection, I am finding that it is doomed to fail. I guess I can be proud of the fact that I'm learning to know what I'm getting into, before I get into it.  It's also been cool to see how much safer Jenn feels when I'm making sure something is going to work before investing time and money into it. 

This morning at work, I was so angry I could barely see straight.  I was angry that I pray for direction and feel like I'm guessing which way to go.  I had it out with God so to speak, and spent the rest of my day searching for what I was supposed to do.  I was in a really bad mood by the time I got home and I was sulking.  Jenn just kept telling me that she felt like the future was bright and she knew we would figure things out.  She said she believed she could keep working and I could quit my job.  At that moment, I was reminded of a quote I heard awhile back about how to be successful with starting a new business.  This is my paraphrase, but they said something like you needed to treat it as important as your next breath, or your next meal.  In other words, sometimes making the transition from a job to full time business needs to be treated like life or death... Working with the realization, that if you don't do whatever it takes to be successful, your family won't eat.  It's a bit dramatic, but it's the very reason a lot of people will never be able to make that transition.  The comfort of a job is paralyzing if you've always had one.  It feels like a nice cushy jail cell but it's safer than the unknown. It's strange how hard it is to let go and take a step of faith and that fear is the very thing that keeps many from attaining there dreams.

All that being said, I had an idea.  It wasn't glamorous, and it was an idea that I had already had.  Everything is set up and ready to go.  A few tweaks to the original idea, and it became not only a possible solution, but a pretty dang good one.  As I walk to the ledge and leave my fear behind me, I look out into the beautiful expanse of the unknown... and I jump.

Dear Father,

I am open to your leading.  Please show me whether I am doing the right thing or not.  I feel like I’m getting some push back and it’s causing me to wonder if what I’m doing is something that you’ve told me to do or not.  Your ways are good and perfect and I am not afraid anymore to follow your lead.  I know full well that you created me and you gave me a passion for the specific things you did. I also know you created me with certain strengths and weaknesses as well. I don’t want to make my own brand of religion that rigidly believes that I have to only do the things that I like doing.  I do however truly believe that I will like doing whatever you end up calling me to do.  Ultimately, I won’t be happy doing anything else other than what you have for me to do.  Please make it clear to me so that I can discern properly your good and perfect will for my life.  I love you, and I trust your leading.  Lead anywhere and I will go… and I’ll be sure to bring Jenn and Noah along for the ride. J

Your son,

Josh

Someone posed a question recently about if you had to summarize what the Bible is about, how would you describe it.  I didn't envy the creators of the recent History Channel series: The Bible, because they had to fit the entire Bible into a little less than 10 hours.

If I had to give a rough summary of the Bible, I would say it was God's autobiography about His own greatness and how He unexpectedly took a harlot as His wife when He chose to redeem the people of Israel.  The Bible is a recap of the process of sanctification He brought His people through. It started with a promise to Abraham that He would give him many descendants and the land of Canaan to live in. Then it proceeded through years and years of Israel giving themselves to other gods and disgracing the name of God.  In our human state, we were unable to glorify God, so God promises through his prophet Ezekiel that He will restore Israel and bring them back from the neighboring nations they had been in bondage to.  He promised to take Israel's heart of stone and put in them a heart of flesh.  He also promises to send His Holy Spirit to dwell in them so that their heart would no longer be divided and would  be capable to follow His ways.  Many years pass as prophets foretell the coming of the Messiah who will deliver the people of Israel. They understand this to be a great King that will militarily deliver Israel from Roman Oppression.  Jesus comes and fulfills every prophecy regarding the Messiah that was foretold and begins a movement of love and humility that changes the world.  After he gives himself up as a sacrifice to save Israel from their sin and restore them to relationship with God the Father, the Holy Spirit is then sent.  Any person that accepts Jesus as their Savior is given the gift of the Holy Spirit.  This new disposition inside of us gives us the ability to follow God the way He originally intended. This next step in our sanctification was necessary but is still hindered by the presence of the flesh that remains within us.  This frustrates mankind but they hold tightly to the hope that one day God will return for His people.  At this time we will be resurrected and given new bodies and the flesh will be done away with and only the Spirit will remain thus completing the process of man's sanctification.  Man will then spend eternity communing with God and giving Him glory for eternity.

Ok, maybe that's a little more than a summary, but it's a LONG story!  One of my favorite representations of God's redemption of His people is the story of Hosea and Gomer.  It is a beautiful story of a man who takes a prostitute as his wife.  This wife is repeatedly unfaithful to him, yet he takes her back again and again and restores her with a love that confounds.  This picture is also painted in Derek Webb's song Wedding Dress:

If you could love me as a wife 
and for my wedding gift, your life 
Should that be all I'd ever need 
or is there more I'm looking for? 

and should I read between the lines 
and look for blessings in disguise? 
To make me handsome, rich, and wise 
Is that really what you want?

I am a whore I do confess 
But I put you on just like a wedding dress 
and I run down the aisle 
and I run down the aisle 
I'm a prodigal with no way home 
but I put you on just like a ring of gold 
and I run down the aisle to you 

So could you love this bastard child 
Though I don't trust you to provide? 
With one hand in a pot of gold 
and with the other in your side 

I am so easily satisfied 
by the call of lovers so less wild 
That I would take a little cash 
Over your very flesh and blood 

Because money cannot buy 
a husband's jealous eye 
When you have knowingly deceived his wife 

I am so humbled when I am reminded of the truth that I am very much an unfaithful whore who is "so easily satisfied by the call of lovers so less wild..."

Dear future self,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you have found what you were looking for.  Happiness?  Fulfillment?  Purpose? Are you truly happy? Did you end up going onto the mission field to help with your own hands?  Or did you become a successful entrepreneur that gives so that the less fortunate can be provided for?  Maybe both???

How is Jenni doing?  I really hope she's happy with how her life ended up. I feel like I'm holding her back from fulfilling her dreams. Was that the case or did all of my failures pay off down the road?  Knowing what she knows now, is she proud to call me her husband?   I know she wants to do missions work someday and I hope she got to do it with you. I hope she knew true happiness and joy in the pursuit of living out her life's passion.  

I know you already know how you used to feel but do you really remember how frustrating it was to live out the meaningless repetition from day to day?  Do you recall the nagging feeling that you are stumbling through a dark room waiting for your eyes to adjust but they never do. Did you ever feel like you found your purpose or are you still trying to find it like I am?  I hope you found what you were looking for... what I am currently looking for. 

If you could give me some advice from your perspective, what would you say to me?  I wish you could write back. I wish you could tell me that I ended up making a difference. That God was pleased with the way I spent my life. I'm not afraid of the future... maybe just afraid of what I end up doing with it.  If I was completely honest with myself, it isn't failure that I fear... No... If anything, I've become accustomed to failure and would say I'm rather good at it.  My only real fear is that my life will be spent on useless failures that never equated to any success afterwards.  

Do you recall what your definition of success used to be?  I hope you figured out that at the end of the day, true success was how closely you resembled Christ to the world around you. I'm still trying to figure that whole thing out, but maybe you eventually learned how to be that to the people God placed in your life.  I sure hope you have some good news for me because I could really use some.  Or at the very least, I just want a glimpse of my future life to make sure I'm not wasting my time trying to do something great.

Sincerely,

Me

Tonight is a reading night and then I'm going to sleep. I'm thoroughly enjoying The Perks of being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky; Such an impressive work of fiction.

One of the greatest movies of all time...

Dewey Finn: ...And Therefore E=MC2, oh, Miss Mullins, come in 
Miss Mullins: I'm sorry, to interrupt but Miss. Lemmons said she heard music coming from the classroom. 
Dewey Finn: Music? Uh, music. I haven't heard any music. Uh oh, you know what, Miss Lemmons must be on crack, right kids? 

Dewey Finn: No you're not hardcore! Unless you live hardcore! And the legend of the rent was way hardcore! 

Music and driving goes together like Stove Top Stuffing and just about any other meal.  I find that when I am listening to music like Explosions in the Sky or Iron & Wine, I am getting passed by people in the slow lane (yes, I'm that guy). On the other hand, when I'm listening to Daft Punk or Ratatat, my foot gets swollen or heavy or something and I can't quite keep my car below 90 mph...

A couple of years ago I had to drive home in a really bad snow and I was forced to make one of the most important decisions of my life.  Do I put on Norah Jones' Greatest Hits? or do I put on something a little more upbeat?  Well, let's just say I wasn't about to listen to songs about rain falling on tin roofs.  I was going to listen to musical combinations that were going to run through my auditory cortex like lava through a fire hose.  Once I got out of the initial traffic, I was ready to rock, because as they say, "you're not hardcore, unless you live hardcore"  It didn't matter that I had to go to the bathroom most of the way.  It didn't even matter that an hour drive ended up taking six. It was just me, the music, and the snow............ and the car, and the road, and the other drivers, and... Never mind.

Cars parked all over the roads...  Big macho trucks stuck in ditches...  Drivers with 4-Wheel Drive weeping uncontrollably because they knew their vehicles could never perform to the level of my 2002 Nissan Maxima.  I contemplated stopping a few times to help tow people up hills, or plow large piles of snow that were blocking certain roads, but I was on a tight schedule and had to get home.  The music was pumping out the factory speakers and if I was any cooler, I'd be Mark Wahlberg. As one song fades out and Pandora is thinking about what song to play next, I press the pause button because my bladder is threatening to pop like a water balloon at a kid's pool party.  I stop my car in the middle of a back road since there is no one for miles.  I am unafraid of being seen because I am on a small road with downed power lines in 2 feet of snow in the middle of the night... so I unzip my fly and proceed to lose some water weight. It was the end to a beautiful night and that's when I knew I wanted to be an author...

...Not really, but I didn't know how else to end this particular blog entry.

My 16 month old took my wife's MacBook Pro from the table where we accidentally left it and dropped it on the kitchen floor.  It's in good shape but Noah was extremely upset with me for taking his "toy" away from him.  We've started packing away his toys because he finds random household objects more fun to play with than his plethora of countless toys. It's amazing to me how he imitates just about everything Jenni and I do. From dance moves, to bad eating habits, to always having an Xbox Controller in his hand.  You know, come to think of it, maybe he's just imitating me.

Lately I've been really trying to figure out how to accomplish some of the dreams that I have, and it seems like there is a vast chasm separating me and the fulfillment of those dreams.  I dream of being and author and I dream of one day having a successful business. Even though these two goals can sometimes feel like a pipe dream, I have studied success enough to know these kind of things aren't all that unlikely.  It may take a while to accomplish them, but it's not a pass/fail type of thing.  A more accurate description of success would be that you have to try/fail/adjust.

The common theme I see when I look at people who have succeeded is that more than being well-connected, they are resilient.  More than being smart, they refuse to quit.  Each failure is packed full of useful information.  It is human nature to avoid pain, and failure is some of the most difficult pain to experience.  Because of this built in mechanism being apart of our nature, our adjustment is made almost instinctually so as not to fail the same way again.  After each successive failure, we are one step closer to success.

I've been growing out a gotee not because I think it's cool, but because I've never done it before.  It's pretty much full grown now so I have checked it off my bucket list and am relieved I can shave it off now.  I can't look at myself in the mirror without thinking that I look like the lead singer from Casting Crowns or just some middle aged dude trying to look young.

The clock marks time, unwilling to go faster.  Two cups of coffee and still drowsy.  6 hours of sleep and still tired. Meaningless work.  Time painfully crawls by like some wounded animal.  Why am I here?  What am I doing?  Meaningful purpose?  I see none here.  Desires of fulfillment?  Still unfulfilled.  How much longer will I be reading this run-on sentence and when will this chapter end?  I rub my eyes as the lines of my life blur together.  The clock dutifully ticks it's minutes off its to-do list and so I wait.  I wait for something more...

It is not enough to pay my rent and to feed my family while my soul is poor and starving.  I want to run but in what direction?  I am lost and without a map.  I refuse to run away and I refuse to run in the wrong direction, so I wait. I wait for direction.  My direction must come from the one who drew my map.  My answer must come from the author who wrote my story.

My dream had to be surrendered to the One who gave it to me.  While I carried my dream it remained small.  It couldn't grow because human as I was I couldn't imagine anything larger.  My dream, feeble and malnourished, needed help.  I feared for my dream's survival so I asked Him to take it back.  I asked Him to carry it for me because I feared my strength might give out.

This was folly for deep as it was embedded it's removal tore the very fabric of who I am.  Surprisingly it is not regret I feel but relief.  Relief in the realization that only now can my dream grow and thrive.  Bereft of my small dream I live in the hope that one day I will be entrusted with something larger.  Larger than myself and larger than what I'm comfortable with. Much larger than anything my finite mind can conjure for it is the infinite that I want to chase after.  A life without limits or boundaries.  A life where anything is possible.  Not because of who I am, but because of who He is and always has been and always will be.

Why write?

With all of the people who start writing a book, few are the ones who finish, and fewer still the ones whose work is published.  All this, only to be added to an endless list of authors whose books line some shelf somewhere with no guarantee that they will ever be read not to mention enjoyed.  So why write?

This seemingly impossible journey comes with no finish line that can be seen from the start and no guarantee of any end product that is worth being read. How is success defined for an author?  Is it enough for ones writing to be loved?  Would it be better if that writing helped improve ones life in some small way?  Maybe its merely a diversion while still filling ones need for entertainment or just a means of passing the time. Or maybe it is artistic and beautiful and it fills the heart.  So why write?  

Writing isn't without its measure of glamor.  I won't deny that I want to put on a mix of my favorite non-mainstream music and sit in a worn comfortable chair where the dim light from the desk lamp is all I need to do my work. Maybe when someone asks me what I do for a living, instead of telling them that I sell tile, it would be cooler to matter-of-factly say that I'm a writer. I figure it would be more of a conversation starter rather than a cause for awkward silence followed by feined interest. The guilty pleasures of a likable career are only to be outdone by the glaring opposition staring down every would be writer. So why write?

Pouring all of yourself into a work that may never see the light of day.  Being unsure of your chance of success, or preferring not to know. Maybe it is just tough to feel like you have something worth saying, or worse, you have something worth saying but aren't sure you are capable of saying it. Maybe I just want to write something worthy of a smile, or a laugh.  Maybe I just want to know that ones tears were wrought by words that are sad and beautiful.  Maybe this is really all I want.  I just want to know my words meant something.  So why write?

Why not?

Life is an interesting mixture of excitement, depression, and boredom. There are the highs the lows and the flat. I see the mountain in the forseeable landscape but can't quite seem to make it there. It's no mystery what impedes my progress.  I wouldn't say I've made poor choices, but I would say there are several things I would have done differently if I could.  The future is bright, but the present is slow in progress. 

Jenn and I are working on paying off debt, and it is frustrating to see how slow the progress is.  I almost want to get a second job, or some other source of income just so I can pay it off faster, but then I run the risk of wearing Jenni out as well as not being able to spend enough time with my family.  Getting out of debt is important to me, but not if it's going to f- things up at home. 

I'm praying my bank gets back to me with some good news.  I would love to continue to work with them after my investor and I have absolved our partnership with each other.  I'm praying that God provides a positive source of income that Jenni and I can utilize for business.  There are a lot of possible businesses on the table that we can take advantage of, but we are tapped out on income right now.  Maybe someone might want to invest?  Maybe a friend or family member? Maybe an Angel Investor?  Maybe a bank although I find that unlikely with the debt that we are currently holding. 

I'm tired of marking time, and the last thing I want to do is put my life on hold for the next 2 1/2 years to pay off all of our debt.  But I also refuse to make a rash decision and regret it.  It looks like the wisest thing to do is to wait and see what God does.

A- Altruistic

al·tru·is·tic   

–adjective

1. unselfishly concerned for or devoted to the welfare of others (opposed to egoistic).

It took me awhile to figure out that all girls weren't all sweetness and light. I started to find out that a lot of girls were mean and self absorbed. I remember one time I was on a bus with a bunch of kids from the youth group, and I remember a couple of blonde cheerleaders picking on this girl with thick glasses, buck teeth and messy red hair. I sat and watched these two girls just verbally tear this girl apart. Such a sad thing that a girl would be so insecure about herself, that she would have to dismantle the next girl's self worth so she can feel good about herself. I remember that at an early age, I started to form a picture of the girl I was looking for. Fast forward a few years and I meet a girl... Isn't that always how it starts...

I hear different people talk about this girl named Jenni. They say she's different. She is respected. She is sweet. My interest is piqued and I find myself wanting to talk to her every chance I get. She intrigues me with her mystery. Not because she's necessarily mysterious, but because I'm fairly dense. We find ourselves sitting alone around a bonfire at a friend's party and I'm thinking to myself, this couldn't be anymore perfect. I think any person who has fallen in love remembers that first long conversation. There is so much to learn about the other and time seems to cease to exist in that moment. I am cozying up to the idea of an all night conversation when we notice there is a guy hanging out by himself and we both can tell he wants to join us but doesn't want to interrupt our conversation. So being the caring self-sacrificing friend that I am, I ignore the guy hoping he gets lost. Jenni waves him over and makes him feel welcome. A night long conversation couldn't have taught me more about the girl sitting beside me. She will put aside her own wants and desires, to take care of someone else. She spent two years in Indonesia doing Tsunami relief for the people who suffered and lost almost everything. While some girls are worried about themselves, my wife is seeing to the needs of others... including my own. I'm blessed, and as time goes on I'm finding out just how true that statement is.

Altruistic... Unselfishly concerned for or devoted to the welfare of others. This is the first letter of 26 that describe my wife.

God's been teaching me a lot about prosperity lately. Kind of a loaded term and I guess that's the point. If I had to sum it up for you, I'd have to say the true measure of success in a person's life would come down to what they do with what they're given. Some make the mistake of believing that if a person has a meager salary, they are not successful. I believe it's a gross mistake to equate success to a dollar amount or what car you drive or how big your house is. I see God as a creator who has created each person with a specific skill set that is closely tied to their specific purpose.

Logically speaking, when Mr. Ford was building the first car, he designed something with wheels and a place to seat people. He also put multiple things under the hood of the car that collectively would cause movement. I would even go so far as to say that there wasn't one thing under the hood that didn't in someway whether directly or indirectly aid the car in carrying out it's purpose. It would be stupid to suppose that after his design and thought, his first car would resemble a dishwasher instead. If God is an intelligent creator, then he would have made us with a skill set that would be able to help us carry out our purpose, whatever that may be. I also think it's a mistake to believe that every object ever designed was meant to be a car. Last time I checked my car doesn't do a very good job of washing my dishes. It's equally not smart to say that if someone isn't doing what you are doing, then they are wrong.

Case and point: My goal is to create wealth and give it away. I personally know people who are involved with missions that rely heavily on the giving of others to carry out their purpose which is to bring the Gospel to a specific people group on the other side of the globe. When I was an immature cotton headed ninny-muggin, I may have said that they were weak for needing the support and money of others and they should have been more focused on creating money for themselves so that they could fund their ability to do missions. It could be that they shirked some responsibility somewhere along the way, but could it be that God simply hadn't designed them for that purpose? So, when it really comes down to it, true success can only be measured by us taking the talents and abilities we were created with, and glorifying God with the work of our hands.

The work that we do really isn't the point. It's doing what God has asked us to do with what He's given us. God being a wise father, he teaches us success. He allows us to try, fail, and adjust. He only entrusts to us what we can handle. Again, success could take any number of shapes depending on the life it's representing. Going back to what I know about my own personal journey, The reason why I don't have $10,000 in the bank is because I'm not ready for that yet. Money isn't very important, but it can be if God designed me to make a lot so I can give a lot away. It's just as wrong for a person to pursue success in the business world when he was called to be a missionary in a third world country, just as much as it would be wrong for me to quit what I'm doing and go be a missionary on the other side of the world.

I understand that my growth is a process so I'm not really in any kind of hurry. I trust that God is mentoring and teaching me how to handle having money before he lets me have it. I'm so excited about God's glory being multiplied by people living out the divine design they were created with. It has got to bless God when He sees someone truly functioning exactly how he designed them to function. If you're wondering how this is even possible, it's not. It's not possible if we try to carry out our design through our own efforts. The only time where this concept can become a reality is when Christ comes into our life and lives through us. Then and only then are we truly the person we were created to be.

"The more we get what we now call 'ourselves' out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of 'little Christs', all different, will still be too few to express Him fully. He made them all. He invented - as an author invents characters in a novel - all the different men that you and I were intended to be. In that sense our real selves are all waiting for us in Him." C.S. Lewis - Mere Christianity

My first attempt at beginning the process of writing a book:

Forward:

My heart
I think it’s rather funny that I’m writing a forward and I’m guilty of usually skipping them in most of the books I’ve read. I guess it’s a feeling of why eat the salad when you know the main course is a Buffalo Chicken Ranch Sandwich from Chili’s. All I really want to get across in this forward is who I am and why I’m writing this book. The books I’ve always enjoyed the most were the ones where I felt like the author was good at making a personal connection with the reader. If this doesn’t happen it ends up reading like a textbook and I hate textbooks. It reminds me of classes I had to take in school when I would have much rather been at lunch or recess.

My name is Josh Killingsworth and I’m a 28 year old who’s probably not a whole lot different from you. I hate brushing my teeth, and I hate flossing even more. I really don’t like showering either, but I’ve developed a healthy habit of doing all of the above (except for the flossing) so that my wife will allow me to come near her. I have other quirks, but I’ll spare you the details. I’ve been married to a beautiful girl named Jenni for about a year and a half and we’re enjoying the journey of life together. Each passing day is just a new opportunity to experience God in new ways. I am reminded of Kevin Spacey’s narration from American Beauty,

“...It’s hard to stay mad when there is so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I’m talking about I’m sure. But don’t worry. You will someday.”

The reason I am writing this book, is to try to help answer some pretty tough questions. Who am I? How did I become who I am? What am I doing? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Why am I bored? Why am I unfulfilled? What’s my purpose? I feel like too many people are drifting. They’re in a life raft rather than a boat. They’re the child who covers their eyes expecting to disappear from view. It’s tough to decide to constantly be present in your own life. It’s so easy to slip into a passive state where you just watch your life go by. You numb your senses so that you won’t have to feel the pain that life sometimes can cause. Drugs and/or alcohol are some people’s means of escape. For others, video games or movies are their means of living a virtual life where they can live out an exciting story where they are the hero. This is much to be desired over their own life, which has become bland and terribly unoriginal. They are bored of living their life and they have to come up with projects to take on so that they can fill that need of accomplishment. I want to talk through some of these issues and hopefully get you to the point where you’re excited about changing the world you live in.

Wow, it's been a long day or two. The computer has been tied up since we've been working on the program for the funeral on Monday. Jenni tells me I can't say "funeral" anymore, so since the "f" word is off limits now, we call it Monday instead. I'm actually going to be putting together a video to commemorate Dave's life so even if you can't make it to the service on Monday, I'll post it on youtube so you can still see it.

I had to have a tough conversation with Jenni's boss today. I don't think he understands what having a death in the family does to a person. He was wanting Jenni to come back to work tomorrow. I told him it was out of the question. I feel bad for the guy because Jenni was, for all intensive purposes, the backbone of his company. When you remove the backbone, you're about as hopeless as a guy without a spine. I really hope the guy's business doesn't go under, but it's not looking too good. Jenni will go back this upcoming Wednesday to train another girl to take her spot.

Jenni and I got to go to her brother-in-law's softball game. It was interesting, although I had more fun watching the odd expressions Jenni's baby niece was giving us. We had a really good talk on the way home about the process of grief. It's interesting how the emotions have a similar way of dealing with grief as the body does dealing with physical pain. If the body sustains too much damage it will go into shock so that it won't be hit with the full wait of the pain that would be equal to the damage done. For instance, a guy who steps on a land mine won't feel much pain right after he steps on it because the body can't handle that much pain all at once. I've found the emotions to be very much the same. When someone is dealt too much emotional pain all at once, they go into a state of denial or they reject the information as false so that it doesn't completely break them.

I believe Jenni's healing process is going well because she is taking the correct doses of pain in amounts that she can personally handle. They come in waves and I know that her tears are slowly healing the wound in her heart. I know it will be a slow process but in order for the wound to heal properly, it takes the correct amount of time. It can't be rushed or skipped or short-cutted. It just has to be dealt with little by little.

As I write this, I hear Jenni crying in the other room. She is with one of her good girlfriends, and she is getting part of her heart healed. It breaks my heart to hear her cry, but I know it's necessary for her to be whole again.

We have had a lot of people asking for the time of the funeral. The official time of the Funeral Service is going to be this upcoming Monday, July 13th @ 11am. It will be held at Oakdale Emory United Methodist Church in Olney, MD.

Jenni went with her mom and sister to go work on the program for the funeral service. I'm sitting here with my only company being the pet turtle. We slept soundly last night. Jenni took some of the Benadryl I got her, and she slept through the whole night. Blessed sleep. You don't know how sweet it is until you have a couple sleepless nights. I almost slept till noon today when I usually get up around 7am.

Jenni's dad was cremated this morning and Jenni had a tough time with the knowing that his death was final. Jenni's mom wanted to get an urn for us and all I could think about was the movie Meet the Parents where the cat pees on the ashes. Kind of messed up I know, but that's what I thought of. It sounds like it's going to be small and Jenni is comforted with the idea that a part of her dad is close to her.

We have felt very blessed with all of the love we have felt from friends. So many asking about when the funeral is going to be held. Keep in mind a lot of these people don't know Jenni's dad from Adam, but they are willing to drive 4 hours to come to the funeral. I am constantly reminded of what God had in mind when he created the concept of family and friendship. We have people constantly bringing meals to the house. Some of our dear friends Andrea & Manoj had a beautiful Edible Arrangement sent to us today. We just feel very blessed.

We held each other in bed today as I told her how proud I was with how she was going through the healing process. She cries every now and then but laughs too. We watched a home video of her dad today where he was being the usual goofball that he is. It made us laugh. It was good to remember how he was before he got sick.

We've learned to laugh at some things that probably shouldn't be laughed at... Like when the guy at the cremation place thought they needed to charge more for the cremation because they mistook Jenni's Dad's ID code for his weight. Anything over 300 lbs. is extra and his ID code was 405. We had a good laugh at that.

I'm about to go pay some bills. It's funny that when a death happens in the family, life keeps going on even though time seems to stand still. There are still bills to pay. There is still work needing to be done. There are still people counting on you. Sometimes you need to pick up some of the responsibilities of the person who just left you. We'll be alright though because we are not alone. We are far from alone.

My heart is tired... I'm going to sleep.

One of Jenni's best friends came to pick her up tonight so she could go hangout with some of her childhood friends. It's so good to see her begin that healing process. Today went well. There was a lot of family. A lot of tears, and oddly enough there was a lot of laughter. Lots of stories about Mr. Crump were told. I'm only now starting to see just how good a dad he was. Even with his depression and OCD, he absolutely adored his family.

I just got back from CVS where I got some Benadryl for Jenn to help her sleep. Doesn't music have a way of playing the right song for you? Pedro the Lion happened to be playing, and I loved one of the lines in the song:

"If all that's left is duty, I'm falling on my sword. At least then I would not serve an unseen distant Lord."

Jenni and I have definitely dealt with the question of "why." Why was Jenni's dad taken so soon? Jenni told me today she was angry with God. She wants to know why God heard her cries to Him, and He said "no." For some, this conclusion can rock their faith. For Jenni and I, it's only a question that remains unanswered.

Like Joseph we find ourselves in the middle of a big story that we can't see the end of. We don't question God's love. That would be stupid because God has proven Himself to be a loving Father time and time again.

What ever happened to real relationship with our God? For some their walk with God is defined by duty, or following orders. Why does it have to be a negative if we get angry with Him? Why is it horrible if we question his actions? I believe God wants real genuine relationship, and if real relationship means that you're sometimes pissed off at the other person, so be it. I feel like that's the kind of friendship God desires.

We love our God, but we are also aching for him to give us some answers.

Nothing ever prepares you for what happened last night. All the textbooks, classes, life lessons, never can show you how to react when you find out your dad will never get to see your children. No one tells you what to do when you see your wife crawl into the hospital bed where her dad lays as she buries her head in his chest and cries. There would be no reassuring touch from him to reassure his daughter that she would be ok. She layed beside him in that hospital bed and just cried. Those images will be ones I take with me to my grave. There is no heart that breaks like a daughter's heart for her daddy. I'm reminded of the time when I saw my dad after he had had his heart attack. So close to death... It's only in those moments when you realize how fragile life is. How fine that line is between every day life, and coming home from the hospital to see your dad's car in the driveway and have to remind yourself he's not inside. What do you say to your wife of 11 months after her mom calls from the hospital to tell her that her dads heart quit beating and the doctors are trying to bring him back to life.

Today we started the healing process, and I don't know how long that journey will be, but that's the great thing about marriage. No matter how long that journey is, I signed up for the whole thing. I signed up for the sleepless nights of trying to forget a world with your father still in it. I don't exactly know what I'm doing. I'm new to this whole marriage thing, but I am confident that there is no other man outside of her father that loves her as completely and deeply as I do.

I feel like it is easy to slip into a mentality where you forget to thank God for what you already have. As I sat here looking at pictures of my wife at our wedding, old feelings started to remind me of what I had forgotten. I had forgotten to thank God everyday for my wife. She is beautiful inside and out, and she is truly the woman who fills in my blanks. Anything I lack, she has. Just about everything I want in life is held by her. It is 32 min. until I can go home to see her, and I am excited to feel the warmth of her body as I wrap her up like a straight jacket.

I have chosen to write again because I feel like writing is a wonderful release. The concept of keeping a journal still holds a certain romance for me. Some like the tangible kind that you can keep in a leather binder and keep on a shelf but I never could go that route. One of my favorite things about writing is the process of writing and rewriting and rewriting constantly sharpening the articulation of my thoughts. This ensures that each and every thought or feeling that is written is as close to the original as possible. I'll admit it is more artistic to have a small leather notebook with post-it notes, pictures, special keepsakes, and other non-uniform bits of writing that litter page after page. Glamorous and rugged to be sure but I feel more at home in front of a screen of white light with a blinking black cursor.

Whenever I begin writing, I always wonder if what I am about to write will be any good. It's been exactly 5 months since I last wrote, and if it's true that writing ability can become rusty through disuse, then mine would be a healthy color of red and orange.

There is also the question of whether I care if my writing is any good. I do care, and here lies the reason: If writing is a direct portrayal of the heart, then I believe it is a sad thing when the heart's communication is hindered by poor writing. Writing has the potential to teach, but good writing can pierce the very soul of a person. I wouldn't say piercing souls is my purpose right now, but I do enjoy clarifying my thoughts about why it is that I write.

I have a dream of being an author, but it is not enough just to be an author. Bookshelves are lined with millions of books but how many of those books will get lost in the sea of hardbacks and paperbacks never to be discovered. I'm not asking for a huge audience, but I would like to know that my writing changed something or more importantly to me, someone. People are my passion and relationships are my heart beat, and I truly enjoy writing anything that has to do with either. I guess you could say that it feeds my soul.

A door opens and the noise of a busy life is heard for a brief moment before the door shuts out the world that hasn't the time to slow down. Time almost seems to stand still in the small comfort of these four walls. A winding mosaic of tile litter the floor and the far wall is brick almost as if it were a large hearth in a person's home. There is a red wall that stretches behind the counter where a shy young woman asks me what I will have to drink. I hear myself answer her inquiry as my voice trails off. My eyes spot a girl who is reading over in the corner. By the look of her she is in her mid-twenties. I catch myself looking at her ring finger to see if there is any hope for me. She wears a silver ring with diamonds around the outside of it. This could be just a bit of jewelry she enjoys wearing or maybe it could be a symbol of her purity. A small voice attempting to be non-intrusive brings me out of my reverie. "Would you like anything else sir?" I try to speak but my mouth has lost all moisture so I shake my head as I pay for my coffee. I find myself wondering who this girl is. She looks up from her book and smiles at someone who passes by and she focus back on her book as she rests her head on her hand. The warmth of her kind smile keeps out the cold wind that threatens to rush in each time the door opens. I take my seat a few chairs over from her and I open my book pretending to read. I doubt my reading is very convincing because it has been several minutes and I haven't turned a page. I work saliva into my mouth as I prepare to dive off of the cliff's edge I'm standing on. The scenery is beautiful but the fall is scary and I'm hoping she will catch me before I hit the ground. "Hello" I tell her. She looks up from her book and smiles and my heart forgets to keep beating. I stammer and look at my feet but realize I am being foolish. "My name is Josh" I hear myself say as I steal another glance at her. "My name is Jenni" she says as she smiles and shakes my hand. We sit in silence for a moment and I go back to looking at my book as I silently scold myself for trying to be brave. I jumped off of the cliff and could feel myself tumbling through the air awaiting the crush of the steadily approaching ground. A voice breaks through my thoughts and I open my eyes and look up to see her gesturing to the chair beside her. "Would you like to sit with me awhile?" At that moment, I'm not sure whether she caught me or I grew wings but my feet never touched the ground, nor did they the rest of that night. The clock struck 10pm and the magic of the evening was drawing nigh. I begrudgingly rose from my chair, put on my coat and bid her goodnight. As I was leaving I could hear the girl behind the counter say "Thanks for coming to Ebenezer's Coffeehouse." I smiled to myself as I placed the phone number I had just received into my jacket pocket and opened the door to leave. The cold outside didn't bother me over much because I knew that it wouldn't be long before I felt the warmth of that coffee shop again.

Like it or not, when I decided to be a leader, I put a down payment down on the glass house I would take up residence in. With each new business I franchise to, I feel like the microscope that people see me through becomes that much more refined. When I used to screw up it used to just hurt myself. Now I bare the responsibility that if I fall, the people leaning on me will fall too.

I neglect to call it a burden because I don't see it that way. It's a joy to lead, but with that comes a very great responsibility. It talks about in the Bible that if you make a weaker brother stumble, you may as well tie a mill stone around your neck and throw yourself into the ocean. I'd have to agree with this. I also agree with Luke 12:48 which states, "To whom much is given, from him much will be required," or if you like the Spiderman paraphrase: "With great power comes great responsibility."

It doesn't mean that you flee from responsibility. An increase in responsibility is just a part of the cost of increasing the amount of people who look to you for leadership.

Things are exciting at the moment. I just franchised to about five more businesses this past week and am looking to franchise to about 5 more in the upcoming 2 weeks. I appreciate the extra accountability that is needed because of this growth. I'm excited to have another thing that will kick my butt. When my body is weary and just wants sleep, I will have the extra push to read more, learn more, grow more. I've heard character is what you are when no one is looking.

I got to have coffee with a good friend the other day. She is a bright spark and a joy to be around. She has a beautiful heart and her outer beauty just mirrors what lies beneath the surface. It was an encouragement to soak up some conversation from an outside perspective. It gets tiresome to hear myself think, so it was a most welcome intrusion into my already cluttered mind. She said something that made a lot of sense and it is worthy of repeating. "Live life as if you were content with never marrying."

Forgive the cliche' but Christ should be and is sufficient. At the point of salvation we were made perfect. It's not that I don't screw up, but I was made whole. I was completed when Christ came into my life. I used to always view marriage as 50% and 50% joining to make 100%. I now know the truth is that 100% and 100% come together to create something greater than the sum of its parts. Something supernatural that can't be explained.

Before that happens, I need to be content in the completion that Christ is in my life. I don't need a girl to love me or validate me. I don't need to rely on what people think of me. Romans 8:31 states, "If God be for us, who can be against us?" I need to rest easy knowing that God the mighty warrior stands by with his hand on His sheathed sword ready to win my battle for me. He would do this if I would just stop trying win the fight on my own. I'm sure I look ridiculous in my armor of tin foil and my weapon being a plastic spoon.

Now playing: 'Heartbeats' by Jose Gonzalez.

Where I am Closest

Such beauty only to be stolen by darkness
Crimson paint that has stained your endless walls
Every heart captivated by each brush stroke
Reverie turns to awe as your blessed curtain of night falls

Pockets of light litter the dark blanket of heaven
My eyes turn to the sky, enraptured by your intricate art
Time slows to a crawl as I become entangled in your eternity
It is in this place that I feel closest to your heart


-Josh Killingsworth

It amazes me how a song can evoke such deep feeling in the heart of a listener.

The fact that a combination of myriad sounds could mingle together to create different emotions. One kind of combination and tempo could bring a smile whereas another makes you want to contemplate life. As I write this, I'm listening to a song called 'Astronaut' by David Mead.

David is moving to Nashville where he is furthering his music career and this song is his musical love letter to NYC on the night before he leaves. The Astronaut bit is a metaphor for his leaving NYC (Such a different place and for the sake of metaphor, a different planet) to go to a new home. He litters the song with graphic imagery that almost makes the city seem to be a person. A friend that will no longer remember him after he has gone. Such a beautiful song would be lost on anyone who doesn't appreciate good art.

Astronaut
by: David Mead

So I'm hitting the town tonight, cinder blocks for feet
Shuffling through all the gazes I know better than to meet
Finally I've found a home I finally have to leave

Another permanent place I'd always hoped I'd make it to
I'm not the first of the astronauts to reach First Avenue
A suburban flyer trying to break some city rules

CHORUS:

'Cause I'm leaving the ground tonight
I'm over your ceiling
'Cause down in your twinkling lights
Life is but a dream
And though you may pretend
This is how it ends
Gone again
Gone again

VERSE:

So baby open your canyons up and sweep me right along
Won't you give me your cold embrace, I'll give you one more song
Then you'll tell me a lie and say you'll miss me when I'm gone

CHORUS:

'Cause I'm leaving the ground tonight
I'm over your ceiling
'Cause down in your twinkling lights
Life is but a dream
And though you may pretend
This is how it ends

VERSE:

Couldn't tell you for sure the view is better from above
I'm not the first of the astronauts to leave the place I love

The song has a mournful feel to it as an echoing guitar acts as the only support for David Mead's voice. I can almost picture in my mind how the music video would look. If I use my imagination I can become David Mead. I can almost feel the cold leather of my car seat as the camera shows my profile. Staring pensively through the windshield of my car, I sing the opening line or two of the song.

You can see the city street lights beyond my profile as I drive. The methodical glare of pale light hits the windows in perfectly timed intervals as the sleeping city slips behind me.

After the first verse finishes, the scene cuts to a NYC bus stop where I am sitting on the bench facing the camera. I am comfortably leaning forward with my wrists resting on my thighs and my hands clasped as if in prayer. A homeless person can be seen pushing a grocery cart of his belongings slowly along the sidewalk behind me as I sing the chorus.

The next shot is over my left shoulder as I walk down the streets of the city with my hands in my pockets with steam coming from my mouth and nostrils because of the cold air. The camera follows behind me as the second verse draws to a close.

I stop and look up at the stars. The camera starts ascending as the final chorus plays. It rises up into the air as it points to the bit of sidewalk I am standing on. It steadily goes heavenward as it slowly travels above NYC, and then New York and then the United States and then the Earth on into space. The last note resounds as the camera pans towards the sun as the screen fades to black.

I'm sure if I talked to David Mead and his label they would jump at the offer. Or maybe I'm the only one jumping for the offer. Well, it is a pleasant fiction anyway.

I love writing letters as if I was sitting over a cup of coffee with a person (In Europe, it would be a pint of beer). Writing can come alive when it is not constricted to the rigid grammar and spelling rules that have been drilled into our heads since Kindergarten. For instance starting a sentence with "And", or sometimes I'd just like to write incomplete sentences that would be considered fragments, but that's exactly what they are. It's a fragment of my thought, and if the freaking spell/grammar check doesn't stop putting a squiggly green or red line underneath it, so help me...

When I write in this weblog, I sort of use the same style except oddly enough, it turns out to usually be a conversation with myself, or I pose questions that go unanswered. A lot of times, I don't even know what I'm going to write and what I'll find out about myself in the process, so you can be just as suprised as me. Another thing I do is I address a group called "you." I haven't quite figured out exactly who falls into the "you" group. I guess it would be made up of the reader as well as anyone else who would identify with what was said whether they ever read that bit of writing or not.

Another interesting thing that I've figured out is that the brain is a lot like a filter. A lot of people who have a lot of book smarts and lock themselves up in a room with their books is like a filter that air hits one side and doesn't come out the other. You just end up getting knowledge constipation unless you have something to apply it to. I think it is the same for your thoughts. People who journal and talk about their thoughts and feelings run a much better chance of understanding themselves and what is going on in their life if they not only think about it, but talk about it and put it down on paper. There is always a sense of release that I have when I put my thoughts down on paper. Almost as if my mental inbox was full and I read through the e-mails and replied when necessary and deleted when necessary. I guess it is how I do my mental filing and how I keep my thoughts organized.

I've always tried to keep both sides of my filter open. What I put in my mind comes out in my actions and what I do. Knowledge that is not applied is lost. What good is storing up information for the sake of having more knowledge? How much is the guy who knows all the answers on Jeopardy? About the same it would cost me to buy a set of Encyclopedias.

Successful people aren't necessarily book smart. They just surround themselves with people who can take care of the small things, while they busy themselves with putting together a winning team. In order to do that, they have to be good with dealing with people.

Breathe

Take my sorrow and my sin
I will run into your arms again
Hold me, Father
Once again my tears are dried
By your perfect love that's river-wide
Overflowing
As I stand by its bank with my arms overhead I am overcome
As I breathe...
The air of heaven, drawing in your fragrance
When I breathe... I feel your fullness come alive inside of me
You're the breath that I breathe

-Sixpence None the Richer

So the office building I work at almost burnt down today.

At least that's what my co-workers would have liked to happen. I've found that people are starving for excitement in their life so much to the point that they consider a minor electrical problem in the one of the air conditioning units something to freak out about. Let me start from the beginning.

I was sitting in my cubicle minding my business, and we started to hear the ventilation system sound like it was giving birth. It was giving birth to a smell that smelled of singed hair. People's heads started popping up like prairie dogs above their cubicle walls. People started whispering and talking about the smell. After the fire alarm started going off I guess that was the signal for some of the lady workers to start freaking out. The sound of the secretary's (I mean receptionist) voice came over the intercom. "Will all ACS employees exit the building!?" (This was repeated several time each time growing louder and more urgent.

One of the funny things about the whole bit was that the ladies were getting heated (no pun intended) about the fact that 911 dialed the first aid room in our office building rather than it calling the police/fire dept. They yelled about this one for awhile. People who were coming out of the building were talking about going back in the building to save someone, as if the whole building were going up in flames.

Standing out in the wet cold parking lot, we watched as two fire engines came. They used the ladder to go onto the roof and they were looking at the air conditioner unit for awhile. It seemed a poor climax to the whole ordeal. Everyone was talking about how if the place burned to the ground, they would lose this or that. What if this and what if that. I felt like it was year 1999 and the countdown was sounding towards the year 2000. People were waiting for darkness and anarchy to strike the second that clock struck 12. For some reason people fear calamity but want it at the same time. They lead lives of such boredom that they often times hope for the worst. Then maybe they will make the news since the worst is all the news focuses on. Nobody wants to hear how a kitten was saved from the tree. They want to hear how a whole family of kittens tragically fell out of a tree and were ran over by a dump truck, bless their hearts.

I was hustled out of the building as if the roof was going to cave in at any second as I heard multiple people asking others, 'are you ok?' No of course I'm not ok you idiot! I just walked out of a perfectly fine building into a parking lot. I need a second to collect myself from the trauma of it all. I think every guy dreams about saving that woman in distress and in the sexiest voice he can use he asks her "Are you alright?" while he extends his arm and helps her up off of the ground. Then they lock in a passionate embrace and make out the rest of the day or something like that.

I confess, I have enjoyed on occasion the thrill of a storm that knocks out the electricity. I have enjoyed a mother huddling everyone together away from the windows as candles are lit to be able to regain eyesight as the storm rages outside. It feels good to sit huddled under a blanket inside the confines of a safe haven while the howl of the wind and the rain on the windowsill lull you to sleep.

The office building didn't burn down. They shut off the alarm and we had to go back to work. I couldn't help but notice the disappointment on a lot of peoples' faces. I'm also looking forward to this being the topic of conversation tomorrow rather than who won last night's football game. I'd rather not hear about either, but at least the 'office almost burning down' will be something new for a change.

I got to talk to an old friend tonight.

There is something about "catching up" that is like a drug that I can't escape. I cycle through a group of old friends catching up on the details of their lives, and by the time I've cycled through, it's time to start over again. Now the realistic side of me tells me that if I continue doing this, I am assured to either not get done what I need to get done, or I will interminably forfeit my own sleep. It is about three in the morning and I fear that sleep is what I'm giving in exchange for this addiction.

Kellie is a girl who lives in Oregon that I liked for a time. She is about a couple of months away from getting engaged and married to a guy named Mark. He sounds like a cool guy, and I'm happy for her. It was so great to talk about the things we are excited about, and to also know that we understand each other. We've always felt like hearing the other person talk was to hear our own thoughts voiced out loud. I treasure friendships like this. It had been about 4 years since we had gotten a chance to talk at length and it was pretty cool to take 5 minutes and give some of the general information of life, and then to take the next hour or two to be able to dive beneath the surface of shallow conversation.

I love talking about things that matter. It makes me come alive when I can talk to a person about the deepest joys and excitements of my heart. I've found whether friend or more than friend, I can enjoy a conversation built on the foundation of raw and genuine truth. It just blesses my heart to encourage and to be encouraged. It blesses me to know that I read the novel and not the summary. I consider myself to be a big picture person, but when it comes to relationships, I want to know every detail.

Well my eyes are fogging up with lachrymal fluid, and I'm not sure exactly why my body is telling my lachrymal gland to excrete this fluid, but from past experience I know my eyes watering is usually a symptom of sleep deprivation. I guess that's my cue to take off these headphones that are playing praise and worship, do some reading, and then let my mind wander into a dream that will soon be interrupted by the sound of my alarm clock.