Senses

Sitting in darkness. A few strands of light peering through the blinds,
originating from the lamppost at the sidewalk a few yards away.
Listening to Arcade Fire and Neutral Milk Hotel, soothing poetry to my ears.
Still fresh from my shower 4 minutes ago. Breeze passing through the window screen,
air drying my still damp body. I love moments like these. Pleasing to all my senses.

Cancun

Our life has been so chaotic and busy lately. Stressful, overwhelming. It was perfect timing.
We arrived in Mexico (one more country to cross off my list) late Thursday evening.
Kelsie was asked to photograph the wedding of a family friend. I was her sexy bag boy.
We stayed at La Amada or The Beloved Hotel, all inclusive.
I got to spend 2 1/2 days at a beautiful resort in Cancun with my favorite person. Kelsie.
2 1/2 days of eating like kings and queens. Of luxury and comfort. Of relaxation.
Sitting at the beach with a good book, shaded, but still enjoying the heat of the sun.
Listening to the ocean crash against the coast, trying to reach me but never quite making it.
Only one word could describe it. Paradise. And it was exactly what this tired couple needed.
The wedding was beautiful. Small wedding party, only a few guests. Private and personal.
The beach, at sunset. The clouds connived to hide the horizon but even that couldn't spoil it.
Thank you, Fred and Susie, for having us be a part of your wedding and welcoming us to paradise.

You and Me

Sponge (2)

I feel like a sponge.

I'm a storyteller at heart. So I like metaphors. Consider this a metaphor.
It occurred to my while Kels and I were discussing the state of our spiritual life.
Or lack thereof. This was last Sunday, following a hard hitting sermon.

Kelsie is not very close with God. Not like she used to be.
This is partially my fault, and I take responsibility for it.
We have been married 2 days shy of 1 year and 7 months, and
in that time I have at no point attempted to be the spiritual leader.
Mostly because I also have not had much of a relationship with God.
Nor a desire for it.

Until now.

I am a sponge. So are you.
As is Kelsie. And my dad.
Pastor Matthew. Louie.
My teachers, and my co-workers.
My future children and their children.
All sponges. All having the ability of being spongey (or sponge-like).
God is not a sponge. He is the living water.
But I do not soak up His Word.
I do not allow him to fill me.
As a sponge, I have slowly dried out. And now I am brittle.
I am unable to do what I was created to do.
Here's the real problem. Ready for this?
Every now and then I get the urge to be soaked in water.
So I spend a few days reading my favorite passages of Scripture.
I'll throw up a prayer or two to the big guy to remind him I'm still here.
Then I stop.
If you pour a little water on a dry sponge what happens? Not much.
The outside gets wet for a moment but it doesn't retain any water.
An old sponge has conformed to a shape and pattern that is consistent with a lack of water.
A lack of living water, in my case.

That's what is hard.
I get the idea I want to be filled with the living water.
But I only turn the faucet on for a few seconds.
Enough to get the outside moist, but do little else.
I've got to crank that faucet handle and let the water flow.
It's gotta keep flowing, and over time I'll soften up.
My flesh will begin to remember what is was like to be
a sponge that could hold water. I want to overflow.
Because it is when we overflow with water, that we can pour it
onto another dried out sponge. Or a new sponge eager to get wet.

I don't want to be this way.
I let down my Savior with this behavior.
I don't give my wife what she needs. And deserves.
When I am brittle as a sponge it is difficult to move.
Difficult to change.

But I am ready to change.
I'm gonna go to the sink now,
and let the water flow
from the faucet.
After all,
I am a sponge.