Remembered Trails

My head hits the pillow in my old bed. It's strange, the smells of the thanksgiving turkey fresh off the grill is the same as I remember, the Abby Road and Auburn poster still are hanging proudly on my wall, and I can hear my dog snoring the same snore at the foot of my bed. This is my home, this is my room, but this isn't my life anymore.

I love coming home to Huntsville. Being able to instantly immerse myself into the familiar trails and mountain paths and lose track of time again while stepping on crunching leaves and the joy when I rediscover the same spiderwebs painted with new patterns of dew on the same rocky cliff faces. The comfort of the safety the familiarity of my mountains, my house, my room bring is intoxicating. It would be so easy to slip back into this old town living again. But, at the same time nothing about any of this seems real anymore. The familiar rock faces and whispers of the leaves seem to still, to much unchanged by time. I am not the same person I was when I left two summers ago, or even last summer, but this town is the same. For this I find reason to give thanks, for this I am also cursed. I love Huntsville, Alabama with all my soul. The memories I cherish of growing up come from here. Every street holds a different story, every mountain trail or lake a different memory. But, as I walk through the same trails and streets I find myself unable to re-enter my tales of a short two years ago, the ghosts of memories haunt and tease me as I try to run along side them again. But they are not real. This strikes a fire in my soul, an unquenchable thirst I know I must fulfill. New mountains, new trails, new mist, new spiderwebs, new oaks to hang my hammock from, new ponds to tame and claim as my own. I thirst for adventure, my throat is itching to be wet. I am ready to go! Peru is calling to me, yet I can't help but feel it is but a threshold, a door to the rest of the world if you will. "Change the world for me, make my name known among the nations, reach the unreached peoples of this Earth I have given to you, do this all for me and my glory. Prepare, and go." Not for my sake do I thirst to go, there is absolutely no plausible way to justify saying a soul as broken and decrepit as mine could ever concoct such an all encompassing desire for such a journey. I believe this thirst that is groaning and growing within daily is from the Lord. I believe he is preparing me to go forth and out for His sake. Terrifying? To say no would be either denial or a lie. This post is a reminder to me the reason I am in school, the reason I am stuck in the mundane for now. It's part of the preparation, the training I need to successfully accomplish the task ahead. To remind myself nothing I do should be for me, it all should be for God, his glory.

Benjamin's Blue Jazz

It was around 11 o'clock last night and me and some buddies decided to hit up the hookah bar for some gyro and celebratory caramel-apple hookah.

None of us were planning on anything more than good food, good hookah, and good catching up but God had other plans. We sit down outside and had been chatting and smoking when out of the blue we hear a harmonica. We turn around and see an elderly african-american man standing behind a table of high-schoolers a few tables down. The whole place gets quiet and this man sings and blows his harmonica. The music was almost eerie, it seemed to just put a spell of captivation and sorrow in the air, the sensation was almost tangible.

He finishes playing and everyone awkwardly claps and then continues on their conversations, he comes over to our table and stands behind us so we ask him to play another song, "this is a song about the Lord coming," he said then he blew a few notes and sang, "he's a-coming and no one can hide, the trumps will sound and he'll be back riding the cloud with the silver lining, ain't no one can hide, ain't no one can hide." He continued for a few more verses and then smiled and stood there as we clapped. "Y'all fellows can help me with my funds? Can you help with my funds?" he asked us. Instantly I was thrown back to this summer to when I was standing in the parking lot with two other of God's image-bearers who, like this man, had for various reasons been living a very long hard life on the street. I couldn't help but wonder how many others living on the streets of America there are like these three people who have come into my life.

We invited him to sit down and ordered him a burger and coke and stated talking. He told us his life story; mother, father, and brother all dead, he lives with his sister who just had a child named after him, Benjamin. He said he works at the Goalpost gas station mopping and cleaning some but hadn't slept in two days and only ate when, "God told someone to give him some food." I hated myself because they whole time he was talking I was sitting in my chair, in my comfort, looking at him and doubting his words. His fingernails were long, caked in grime and dirt, his jeans filthy and to short to keep the cold out, his shirt as a fleece jacket that was semi-clean in comparison.

I found myself questioning the validity of his seemingly crazy stories. "God told yall to buy me this food," Benjamin said, snapping me back to reality. We continued to talk and he told us he was manic-depressive and no doctor would give him medicine anymore. By now it was after midnight and time was stretching thin. A few of us had to leave and by the end of it only two of us were left sitting with this man at the hookah bar on this pre-ordained chilly October night in Auburn. "God is good, he blesses and he does, yes sir, don't you forget that he does." Benjamin said with a goofy grin on his face as he finished off the rest of his burger. When we left, we agreed to meet again same place next thursday night at nine to talk more and get in the scripture together. On my way home last night all I could think of was Benjamin's Jazz and Gospel. Did he really understand what wisdom was coming from his lips when he spoke of promises and blessings and the return of our King? Did he understand how loved he really is? Can he ever? These questions are still swirling around in my head and until we meet again next thursday I'll just have to wait and see. The definition of real blue jazz, true sorrow, and brokenness was shown not half a continent away in Peru but in Auburn, my everyday home. The need of spreading God's love is overwhelming and we must seek it out, God will put opportunities in our lives all we have to do is respond. It's not our job to convert, its sure as hell not our job to judge, all we are called to do is share the love we have found with beggars like ourselves.

War Damn Life

I have about a thirty minute break before reality sits back in so it's time to catch up the blog postings. Auburn is absolutely in it's prime season. Midterms are finally done, praise the Lord!! These past few weeks have been wonderfully jam packed with so much fun!

We had our first Gospel Choir Performance a few weeks ago and it was so much fun! We sang my favorite song that we have been practicing, "Souled Out" by Hezekiah Walker, check it out. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l937QuCzD38) Also in recent news, God has answered my prayers and searchings for a job! In two weeks or so I'll be working at Taylor's Coffee Shoppe downtown off of college street.
This is such a relief because it is just setting me one step closer to Peru! Not only will I be in Peru for the summer but now I am leading a group of Auburn students to Peru for this spring break! We will be going with Frontline Peru into the jungle to a small and VERY rural town called Pulcallpa. This upcoming thursday is the day we have set for the deadline for commitment for the trip, I can't wait to see who all the Lord calls to join us on this trip!