A recent day in the life of Galen

3:15 (AM!!) - Fall out of bed.
3:20 - Wake up Again.
3:45 - Shower
3:50 - A knock on the bathroom door. Pull on the pants and open the door.
3:51 - Rachel (gasping): "The house is on fire. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE."
3:51 - Galen (thinking): Then why is everyone standing around?
3:52 - Mom (in the hall, panting on the phone): "Yes, I'd like to report a house fire."
3:52 - Open door to my Mom's deck so Dad can place a smoking microwave outside the house (which isn't actually on fire).
4:02 - Leave for work. Drive past two fire engines and an aid car headed toward my house. Laugh all the way to work.
4:12 - Driving 68mph, notice headlights catching up.
4:14 - Notice those headlights have bars in front of them. Notice lightbar. Notice speed is 74mph. Let off gas.
4:15 - State Trooper drives past me at 74mph. Sigh of relief. Back to 70mph.
11:15 - A man asks for a water. Happy to oblige I take a cup and step towards the ice. Reconsider. Step back to the counter. He's holding his hand inside his coat now. Consider the possibilities. Notice the tip jar is gone. Notice large square plastic bulge beneath his coat. Look customer in the eye and say, "Can I have that back please?" He thinks for a few seconds, then puts it back. Says he needs a dollar for bus fare. I search my pockets. No go. Says he just needs a dollar for bus fare because he just got out of jail. I think: Stealing again? And so bad at it? No wonder you were in jail. Apologize profusely but the tips aren't my money so I can't give him a dollar. Offer him his ice water anyway. He takes his water and leaves.
11:16 - Becky sees me holding two tip jars and asks what I'm doing. I explain. Much laughing. It is expressed that she didn't know I had it in me to catch a thief. I explain I was nice about it -- I did say "Please" after all. :) Receive small award for saving the tips. Feel like a hero.
1:00pm - Amber arrives. Change clothes and set out upon more adventures.
12:15am - Get home. Talk to Mom since she can't sleep.
1:33am - Go to sleep.
7:33am - Get up.

At least I'm not wasting my life asleep :P It was a 22 hour day, but it sure was exciting and fun. I love these supposedly mundane days that really are adventures in themselves. I love having a family and coworkers that can laugh about minor crises. I love having Amber along for it all. She's a great one with whom to share these days.

when everything happens at once

"No words can express how much the world owes to sorrow. Most of the Psalms were born in a wilderness. Most of the Epistles were written in a prison. The greatest thoughts of the greatest thinkers have all passed through fire. The greatest poets have "learned in suffering what they taught in song." In bonds Bunyan lived the allegory that he afterwards indited [wrote], and we may thank Bedford Jail for the Pilgrim's Progress. Take comfort, afflicted Christian! When God is about to make pre-eminent use of a person, He puts them in the fire." (George MacDonald)

I will not to temptation run, nor to a murderer following me.

Let me stay here, safe, for a while.

I want some company now.

A good conversation. An affectionate touch.

Someone to settle my soul.

Uninterrupted. Safe. Sanctity.

-------

I read that to judge is to cast someone out of your company. I'm tired of being watched. Of hoping to please.

Dilemma

1.) The man in a relationship is supposed to pursue the woman in the relationship.
2.) The man in a relationship is supposed to lead the woman in the relationship.

Therefore the man should both pursue and lead the woman in the relationship. This implies he should be both behind her (chasing) and in front of her (leading). This is not a practical possibility. So, which is it? Is there a middle ground or third option?

Why they / we write

There are many authors who begin their novel with the thought, "I will make this entertaining," and they think, "I will be famous." And there are authors who begin a novel with a burden. They think to themselves, "This will be art."

let go. just let go.

I think I've spent probably 12 years studying the English language. I've done a million grammar exercises, conjugations and sentence diagrams. Every kid does. And yet I don't think all that studying helped me at all. How can I be sure? Well, I was a slacker: I didn't ever pay attention to grammar. So how do I know what to hang my prepositions on? How do I know where to use semicolons instead of colons? I know because I've read literature and essays that moved me and I saw how they formed their sentences. I absorbed the meaning of their words. I heard how certain syllables slid softly off my lips. I understood. But I didn't learn the specific rules... I didn't need to (don't start with contractions; don't hang that preposition :P).

I was thinking about how people who have a teaching mentality usually break topics into bullet points. It makes it easier to teach. And I was thinking how I usually do this too, even with really complicated topics that can't really be generalized in lists. I wondered what it would be like to teach a history class and never mention a bullet-pointed fact. I wondered if your students would learn better if you just told them stories. All I remember from my history lessons is the stories. The dates came later, when I looked at timelines and recognized famous battles and epic explorations. I wonder now, why don't history teachers -- the teacher with access to an endless amount of stories illustrating all sorts of amazing concepts and theories and New Deals and Chinghis Khan (who wasn't actually much more cruel than Joshua son of Nun) and British aristocracy (Charles is a generous landlord) and French Revolutions (do we really need dates when we have Les Mis and the Scarlett Pimpernel?) and Chinese poetry? Do we really need bullet points when we have the source materials? When we have the actual experiences expressed in language like rain on flowers?

And I wonder if a teacher could, after telling a story, avoid the tempation to break it down into bullet points to somehow make it "easier to remember"... As if anything is easier to remember than a story.

In my life I want to let go of the details and the bullet points. The story... My story has meaning.

I wonder if I really mean this

Sometimes I wish everyone knew my flaws. Then there'd be no fear. But we don't feel safe here amongst humans. At least I don't. In heaven I think we'll all know each other's earthly flaws. And it won't matter, because we'll all be so validated by each other and by Jesus. We'll be safe, because in heaven, we're not in a lifeboat anyway.

an axe is set against the root

Sometimes I want to pop my back. It's instant gratification. But it doesn't solve the root problem: muscles that are tense, vertebrates that are pulled by tense muscles, nerves that are pinched by vertebrates. Popping my back is so easy, but stretching loosens the muscles which releases the vertebrates which frees the nerves. So now, I choose to stretch. I choose yoga over popping. I choose good posture over cracking my back. Stretching takes longer, and sitting up straight takes more attention and determination (laziness is so easy), but it solves the problem.

Yes, that was a metaphor too.

I like how Thoreau said it: There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.

bash: dump.

I got my blood tests back today. Drum roll please! BrrBrrBrrBumBumBUM

I have perfect blood. Well then, now that I'm not dying, it's about time to find something to do with my life.

Don Miller released a new book yesterday. It's reflections on growing up fatherless, but it's titled something about owning a dragon or somesuch. I'll be reading it, if only because it's also about men mentoring younger men, which is something that's important to me.

That stupid travel itch is coming back. I've been home... hardly a week and the itch is back. I like how everything is going here! Why would I leave? But it itches...

I saw the Constant Gardener again. I still like that movie. I like how it's a love story about people, rather than being a political docudrama with flat characters.

Does anyone else wonder if our children will be as critical of us as we are of our parents?

Jesus keeps popping stuff out of the scriptures at me, like potholes on a ten-speed.

I still don't get why he loves me so much even though I tend to be so fucked up -- even though I love him so much less than he loves me. More on that tomorrow. If in the past few days I've told you to remind me of something, you'd best do that, because I've forgotten. I only have the vague impression I've told people to remind me...

On that note, do remind me to tell you what I learned about Jesus and Peter's exchange at the end of John's gospel.

Oh, and remind me to tell you about the hitchhikers and the old man I met at a garage sale.

You're all lovable. Cheers.

the new red bmw

Well, here it is. Still no name though.
1988 BMW 325ix (30-70 awd).
168 hp
181 lbs torque
heated seats
sunroof
really bright high beams
pirelli tires
and this one Dodge Ram can keep up with it on the curves on 128 between Napa and Winters. Sad!

hydrogen and stupidity

Yesterday on 167 a woman broke her femur in a car accident. A man was charged for wreckless driving in the incident. The headline in the Journal reads, "Crash creates traffic nightmare."

Oh, sure, a woman broke her femur, but you should have SEEN that traffic.
Come on Journal, have a heart.

Finding our faces

Ah, the internet. Where else can you simultaneously discuss comic books, Google's impending collapse and your deepest hopes just by tabbing between chats? In person you can only have one face at a time. Online, you're basically one messy mood swing. You can console a friend who lost a grandparent, while cracking political jokes just one conversation away. Doesn't that seem rude? Can we concientiously express sympathy in one window and feel entirely flippant in the next? Do we confuse ourselves when we are deeply spiritual with one person while ranting about LA's traffic to another?

Can we be true to ourselves and wear these many faces at once?

waiting

I was exploring some Hebrew words this morning and talking to Jesus, and I came across this:
"I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me and heard my cry. " Popular verse and all. David wrote it, and we labeled it Psalms 40. But I looked at two of the Hebrew words behind our words: qavah (waited) and natah (inclined), and the verse seems more important to me. The Hebrew word for "waiting" isn't "waiting" like an orphan for adoptive parents, because an orphan never knows if anyone is coming. Qavah is to wait because you know something is coming. Amber is qavah right now for her camera. She ordered it, and knows it's coming; she waits till Friday, and she waits excitedly because Friday her camera IS coming. So, when David says he is waiting for God he's waiting excitedly because he knows God IS coming. He has no doubt, so it's not hard to be patient. Like Matt counting down the four Saturdays till Florida, David is counting down the moments till God arrives. Obviously God comes when he comes and goes when he goes, so David doesn't have a firm date about when God will come... or does he?

Check this out: natah is translated inclined, as in leaning towards. But that Hebrew word was more often used to say stretch or extend. So don't picture God leaning down towards David like your great-aunt towards a toddler, all achy backed and arthritic. Don't imagine the slow movements we use to ease towards someone. This is God we're talking about. Imagine Michelangelo's Sistene Chapel and God reaching mightily towards Adam. Imagine God running like an Olympic sprinter to David's side. He's arched and stretched and throwing all his energy into crossing the finish line and breaking that ribbon. So David is confident God will come, and he's excited, because God is coming as quickly as he can. How fast can our omnipresent, almighty God get there? Immediately. And when does God begin his journey? Probably when he heard David's cry. When he saw David waiting. Understand this: David is qavah because he knows when God is coming -- God is coming now.

I woke up at 9am this morning. I felt like I had left the swimming pool just to climb into bed. All soaking wet. Sweat everywhere. It was 9am so I decided to shower and get out of my stifling blankets. I locked the door to the bathroom and then my Dad knocked on the door. He mumbled something, so asked him what he said. He said, "Are you ok?" That's when I realized I was sitting in the bathtub in my pajamas, and the shower curtain was wrapped around me like a hot dog. It took me a few minutes to decide it was worth unlocking the door. He had heard a clunk. I couldn't decide if I was dying or not. He got me water and a piece of bread. He knelt on the floor to make sure I was ok, and I sat on the edge of the bathtub and hung my head in exhaustion. Who knew falling down could be so much work? The doc says I need to eat more (sweeeet!), drink more, rest more (me? rest MORE? hahahahaha) and he stole some of my blood. I don't think he's going to give it back. What he doesn't know is my body is a blood manufacturing MACHINE!




My palm pilot is covered with things I want to be doing right now. But I'm supposed to take it easy. I'll just avoid washing my hand until I feel better.

Well, let's see:

1.) The water was cold. Very cold. The wind was colder.

2.) The hopefully came true! The plans went off perfect! Fun times were had by all! We stayed up till 2am talking and it was healthy and beautiful. The play was educational at a heart level. I'm not sure I can factually point to what clicked with me, but I think it mostly came down to realizing that the human condition is common to, well, all humans.

3.) The mystery dinner was a night of intrigue and proposals and lots of lying through teeth. It should be repeated.

4.) The family dined at Eva in Wallingford. Good service, quite the selection of unique food, a great tawny port and a 10 table atmosphere. Pleasant to say the least.

5.) The meet with Sharon fell through but I did get to spend a few hours with Katelyn, which was decidedly beautiful. El Diablo was made for interesting conversations.

6.) I missed my flight to Long Beach, so I read Hemingway in SeaTac's new terminal which is light and bright and modern and has some very cool art on display. I flew into Orange County instead and caught a shuttle to the car which turns out to be exactly what I expected. A few hours later, after 10 hours of not eating I stopped at Trader Joes before the long drive to Sacramento. Taragon and chicken is a great combination and fresh juices are wonderful. The drive wasn't nearly as trafficky as I expected. At 5pm I made it from Long Beach all the way out of LA on the 405 and the 5 in just two hours! The car handles well and rides like a BMW, which is the point. The paint isn't perfect and there's some personality quirks, but it drives like a BMW, so who cares? Oh, I have a radio in my car. It's been so long since I've had a radio.

I'll update again soon!

My birthday is in less than 2 hours.

Here are the plans for my birthday weekend:

Tomorrow morning Matt, Trevor and I are going on a drive. Our goal is a secluded beach upon which we will look at the sea, smoke cigars and drink homemade beer (excusing Matt of course, as he is admirably legal).

Tomorrow night, us three plus Renae and Amber hopefully will be going to a play. We've purchased tickets, but I say hopefully in that somehow my plans usually fail. I don't know why. But God willing, we will be.

Saturday night, the plan is to have a mystery dinner at my house, with 8 friends and my sister and parents. It looks to be an exciting night of intrigues.

Sunday the family is having a family day. I don't know what we'll end up doing, but a nice dinner is in the works.

Monday I'm meeting my friend Katelyn in the afternoon, and another dear friend, Sharon, in the evening, the latter at a pub on Post Alley. I hope both of those dates work out because I really appreciate both of those people.

Tuesday morning I fly out to LA, pick up a car, and hopefully see Azina.

Tuesday, Wednesday and possibly Thursday I drive home.

Here's the part that terrifies me: after I pick up the car on Tuesday, I have no firm plans for the rest of my life. I feel like I'm setting off to swim across the pacific, knowing the only guaranteed stop is Asia on the other side. It looks very vast from here, and cold, and scary. And now that I'm swimming, I see no other course than to continue on towards the other side, which I call heaven, and home.

Wish me well. Voy con Dios.

The UK was nice but now Africa looks like liberty.

1. It's official. No one is allowed to smoke in the UK. So much for my dream of a pipe and a pint in a pub.
   
2. In other news every time there's a terrorist attack, the suffering nation responds by allowing the government more power and the people less freedom. You can now be held for 28 days without charge in the UK. Funny that it takes 28 days (and Blair wanted 90 days) to find a crime to charge a "terrorist" with. Even though we know they're "evil" and the opponents of all things good and right, because they threaten citizen's liberty. Reverse that and suddenly anyone who threatens a citizen's liberty is a terrorist, and now, hey there, the UK is a terrorist state. Only they think it's their duty to protect their citizens, says Blair. By incarcerating citizens while searching for crimes to charge them with? Someone is confused.
3. In other news, Zanzibar looks neat. Another place on the list of places to go.
   

where is that wisdom when I need it Jesus?

I have a feeling that even if I read every book on safe people, healthy relationships, boundaries, negotiations, shalom, holiness, communication, love, and every book on man's search for meaning, and searching for God knows what and every book on the gospel, raggamuffin and otherwise -- I have a feeling that no matter how many books I read I'll still fail at relationships. I'll still have unhealthy friendships. I'll still hurt people. I'll still be unfaithful. I'll still break my word. I'll still judge. I'll still do everything I hate myself for doing.

This makes me really, really sad and I don't know what to do about it.

I don't have anywhere to turn. God's not talking. I'm resigned. I can't do this. I'm giving up on me. And I don't even know what that means. I'll still have friendships, but maybe I just won't expect them to be healthy relationships, or safe or holy or anything but depraved and human. That is so sad.

Is this the curse? Imperfect relationships for the duration of our lives? Then this really is a curse and now, finally, I'm pissed at Adam and Eve.

I'm sorry I keep hurting you. This isn't me repenting and promising never to hurt you again. This is me realizing I'm fucked, and this is me begging for your grace.

Oh, this blinding light is nice

The sun is in my eyes.

It's been 55 some days since I've been able to say that.

Take that S.A.D.