Oceanic Greed

The aged wood of the boardwalk echos hollowly, but has a damp undertone from the left behind wet footprints of the day.

We thud forward in silence, commenting trivially on the nights happenings when my attention is slowly stolen.

Silently, the night wind picks up the lost sand on the boards and sprinkles it across my feet, desperate to take my attention.

Uncaught by anyone but me, a waver in her voice in the prime of her retelling of her day,

Did she notice my distraction?

In a final attempt at shallow conversation we turn to talking about the weather.

But, the wind is greedy.

It whips the sea oats until they shiver and sigh, an eerie sound.

Silence.

Our final few steps on the board walk crunch. Crunch until. . .

Finally, our eager toes lick the sand, cooled by the wind and stars.

Naturally, unknowingly our toes dig and burrow in joy,

reminiscing to the innocent barefooted days in the sand-box.

The wind, eager again for my attention, breathes down my spine.

We quicken our pace.

As we drawn nearer to the ocean, the mist scares the cowardly wind away.

Sprinklings of salt, water, and sand speckle upon our sun kissed skin.

Laughter.

We lay down in the sand, each lost in our own worlds and look to the deep heavens above.

Reflections of depth and light, moon to sun, space to sea.

The peace found only in the bare nakedness of a bed of sand and friends.

Open.

Sheltered.

Free.

Dream

When I was just a little boy,

eyes wide with wonder, love, and joy,

I sat up in my perch in Papa's tree.

I saw the world with no disdain,

knew none but bliss,

sheltered from pain,

I laughed and dreamt of whom I would be,

I had a dream.

I found my peace in mountain trails,

the wisdom of the world unveiled,

in the silence, stillness, calm.

I found me.

To and fro my world would turn,

I walked and as I did I learned,

More and more of who I would be.

I had a dream.

Once I had walked I wanted to run,

to God I turned and to his Son,

Running hard into their arms, into me.

I know not much more now, today,

of whom I will be,

yet I know my name,

I feel the call I want to fly, to be free.

I had a dream.

But as I taste my world of bliss,

poison threatens at my lips,

but I know now exactly how to lead.

the life I lead.

I've learned to fly I must first trust,

not on myself, but in God I dost,

My future is in your hands,

and Lord I know you know that

I had a dream.

So now my feelings juxtaposed,

pre-med or law, and other woes,

I fear and fear of whom I will be.

I want to be the man I saw,

those years ago,

without a flaw,

a man of the Lord, ultimately.

I had a dream.

I've lived it full and lived it well,

so many stories I tell their tale,

Of how and when I reached

my dream.

On paper it looks...

Waiting, sitting, pacing. Anticipation. "Idleness is the devils playground" my great-grandpa told me. I could not agree more. Instead of using the spare time for Christ we, or at least I, turn inward selfishly. Commitment to Christ is so easily said and put down on paper, that paper is so easy to put away, to push to a back shelf until we need to or want to open it again. That is not true Christianity. That is not a relationship, it's "fire insurance." It's true, coming to college you will be tested on many of your views and they will be stretched, possibly broken, possibly strengthened, Hold fast to Christ. He loves me, he loves you. Remind yourself that daily. Spend time in the word. Yes, yes, yes, yes, once again a paper list beautifully organized but terrifyingly easy to fold and hide from from until you need it. But, maturity as a person, maturity as a Christian is being true to what you know is true. Living fully for the light of the world. Diving deep, daring to adventure where no man has gone before, but in those adventures, in those journeys, remember why you are doing it. Not for yourself, fully for Christ. Live in this world, but remember you are set apart from this world. Prayer warrior, Prayer marches. A title and a task more ancient and beautiful than most. A title and task we each must do. Pray, fight in this war. Live for Christ.

So, as Spring break draws near and grades are coming in it is reliving to see a dramatic improvement from last semester. To me, this semester so far has been about priorities and where they fall and where they need to fall. Its easy to put the things that belong on the bottom of your list up top when it benefits you and the important things slip, silently, stealthily to the bottom. Every day, every hour, every second I need to remind myself "It's not about being the picture of a great 'Auburn man' it's about being the picture of a Godly man." While being a great Auburn man can and should share some of the same things as being a man for God, it is all about priorities and why I, you, want to do what you do.

Culture says just don't think, just jump on in everyone else is. Nike, just do it. But if you don't think why you are doing it then it may be for your own glory or a number of other excuses. You need to think about why you are doing it. Prioritize.

What if the paper you have your desires, priorities, your relationships, your life plan, and time chart what it the paper holding all that burnt and you had to write it all down again. Would it look the same if you got a fresh start focusing fully on Christ as you re-wrote everything. As C.S. Lewis says "God has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense." In other words, he burns our paper every time we mess up. Confession is a beautiful thing given by Christ's blood to help us. So, I burn my paper, my jumbled up list of desires and priorities and relationships and life plan and time chart and, for the septillionth time begin again fallin at the feet of Christ letting him lead my hand.

Stolen Words

Stealing words from some of my favorite songs from my favorite artists.

"They got all the right friends and all the wrong places
So yeah we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah we're going down
Everybody knows, everybody knows
Where we’re going yeah we’re going down
Everybody knows, everybody knows
Where we’re going yeah we’re going down"

-One Republic

"I've seen the way you deal with things
The troubles that this life will bring
If it gets to you then I can tell by the way you sing
You act like it just doesn't mean a thing

I see you dancin all your, dancin all you, dancin all your daze
Maybe you can tell me how it is you got that way
Dancing all your, dancing all your, dancing all your daze
Come on, come on there's got to be a way

There's all these things that get me down
This dirty world is full of clowns
They'll build you up just so they can knock you down
Laugh at you while your there on the ground

But not you..
I see you dancin all your, dancin all you, dancin all your daze
Maybe you can tell me how it is you got that way
Dancing all your, dancing all your, dancing all your daze
Come on, come on there's got to be a way

I really like the way it feels
I look at you and it's real

I see you dancin all your, dancin all you, dancin all your daze
Maybe you can tell me how it is you got that way
Dancing all your, dancing all your, dancing all your daze
Come on, come on that's got to be the way"

-Avett Brothers

"It's a long and a dusty road a hot and a heavy load
and the folks that i met ain't always kind
some are bad some are good some have done the best they
could, and some have tryed to ease my troubled mind

and I cant help but Can't help but wonder where i'm bound
where i'm bound Can't help but wonder where i'm bound

I been wandering thru this land just doing the best I can
trying to find what I was meant to do and the people that I see look as worried as can be and it looks like they are wanderin too

and I can't help but wonder where i'm bound where im bound can't help but wonder where i'm bound


well I had a lil girl one time she had lips like sherry wine
and she loved me till my head went plum insane but i was to blind to see she was driftin' away from me and my good gal went off on a mornin' train

and I Can't help but wonder where i'm bound where I'm bound can't help but wonder where i'm bound

If you see me passing by and you sit and you wonder why and you wish that you were ramblin' too nail your shoes to the kitchen floor lace them up and bar the kitchen door thank your stars for the roof that's over you

and I Can't help but wonder where i'm bound where i'm bound can't help but wonder where i'm bound I Can't help but wonder where i'm bound where i'm bound can't help but wonder where i'm bound"

-Johnny Cash

Informative Speech COMM 1000

For my second speech in public speaking we had to an informative speech and I chose the street boys in Peru. I hope you enjoy. Thank you to Billy Greenman and Polly Ricks for their invaluable input.

“Finding food, staying alive, staying hidden. They eat anything...dirt, bricks, any food they can get. They have to sell themselves sexually or steal in order to get money to buy a plate of food or a bowl of soup. They hide out in the daytime to avoid being caught by the police and subsequently are thrown into prison and tortured or taken somewhere to be left to die. I have heard that the average lifespan of a boy on the street is 18 years.” This quote was given to me during an interview of Polly Ricks, a woman who has invested over 12 years of her life to helping the street children on Peru. The term street children is the politically correct term, Peruvian citizens call them “piranhas” and “bastards.” This past summer I was lucky enough to travel to Peru for two weeks and work with Scripture Union Peru outreach to the street boys. It was a slap in the face for sure, I hope to be able to inform you of the challenges, lifestyles, and hardships of these children.

Peru has around 29 million inhabitants. It is hard for the government to get an exact count of the number of street boys because the boys are good at hiding but the estimation is about 250,000 street children are in Peru’s streets. These children are put on the streets for a vast variety of reasons. In Inge Bolin’s book “Child rearing in highland Peru” he explains, “Women do not take a birth control pill or use other preventative methods common in mainstream society, since these are neither affordable nor trusted.” Because of this, many women get pregnant at an early age when they can not provide for the child, and the father most of the time disappears. Usually the first child is kept and raised, but in the years to come more and more children are born into the “family” and the mother is absolutely unable to provide for all of the children, so it is acceptable for the mother to send the first born and the ones she believes have the best chance of survival on the streets out. These children chosen are usually boys no older than six but could be as young as two or three. A common way this happens is the mother takes the children to a busy market far from their home, and purposely loses them in the crowd. Paul Clark, the director of Scripture Union Peru, often uses the illustration of a life boat. “When the boat is full one person needs to go overboard, or the entire boat will sink, and everyone drowns.”

Some children begin spending days on the streets trying to sell small bits of candy, hand-woven bracelets and hats, or they will just simply beg to try to provide income for the family. Many times, they are expected to bring home a certain quota daily, and if they do not meet that quota then they can expect to be beaten. Even when they do bring the proper amount of money home, very seldom does that translate to food on their plates. Billy Greenman, another employee for Scripture Union Peru said, “After awhile, sometimes the boy decides that he would be better off living on his own rather than trying to meet an unreasonable quota and still not getting fed.” Unfortunately the street is no safe haven from the hell that they called home, this situation is the epitome of the term ‘out of the frying pan into the fire.’

So what happens to these boys once they are on the streets? The streets of Peru are no place for people in there teens much less as young as two. The streets are full of gangs, violence, addictions, and death. The option of finding a job for a street boy is not an option at all. The street boys status in the economy is lower than the status of a slave. He has no one, and nothing other than the clothes on his back, if he even has clothes. So, the next reasonable option for the children in stealing for survival. This ranges from pick pocketing to stealing food from the markets. The younger and less experienced children who don’t know how to make a fast get away are usually caught by the police and tortured, when asked to elaborate Greenman said “They are raped and beaten. Boy's have been taken to a dungeon and used as a soccer ball to be kicked around. They have been forced to drink the policeman’s urine. They have been fed sandwiches laced with rat poison, and sadly, the list goes on.” The last option for survival on the streets, sadly, is prostitution. In Peru and all over the world sex trafficking and sex tourism is on the rise. These young boys will extend sexual favors in exchange for a small sum of money or just a plate of food. And the sick thing is, people actually take advantage of them and use them.
At the end of the day, the amount of help available to the children in proportion to the amount of children on the streets is very small. The group I was a part of this past summer has helped many children find the escape they desperately desire from the streets, but that is just a snowflake on the tip of the iceberg that is the help needed. There are many other programs in place similar to Scripture Union Peru dedicated towards helping the boys. When the boys steal and resort to drugs or prostitution, it is to "disaparece" themselves (to disappear themselves from pain, hunger, life) for a few minutes, they can be relieved of all of the horrors of being on the streets...and the thing they hold dear, the only real thing they own is "mi verdad", which is "my truth" or their story of what happened to them in their family and how they came to be thrown out of their home...most will NOT tell you their "verdad" and treasure "mi silencio" as the most deepest secret close to their heart. No one else can own their "truth" or their "silence". This is the one thing they own forever.