"When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before."
-- Jacob August Riis

Saturday, November 28, 2009

of heavy machinery, what I will do for a cup of coffee, and being on holiday

Thanksgiving day lends a look at a new way to celebrate life. From Fox Soccer channel, to a Skype date with my London dwelling sister, to Larry deep frying two turkeys, to the men competing in the infamous Soccer Olympics of the backyard.

Trying to land neatly laid soccer skills from a foot to a brick halfway across the yard. Things are neater when you are pushing the cutest blue eyed princess Bella around in a laundry basket as she tries to remind herself to breath. From late night hangman games with your nephews, to early morning car rides through the black friday shoppers of another planet. You find yourself standing at the entrance to the Burkholders dwelling around 6 25 am on the blackest of fridays.

Fire proof suits and steel toed boots intact, we make our way half way across the city to rent a ground hog, or at least the worst looking monstrosity of metal you have ever seen. 2 young lads meet us, oh so happily as we enter the newly unlocked door. The crippled lad, yes he is crippled and he works at a heavy machinery rental store....hmmmmm weird, stands behind the counter with gold mines of sleep in his eyes, or are those tears from the immense pain of finding himself awake at this hour. The other gentle man like figure points to about 80 pieces of metal rental objects and says 'i will be with you after I haul all of that outside', half drunk, or hungover, or both he lazily walks from one side of the store to the other. As we walk outside to gaze on the remnants of the machine we will cut through the earth with I smile as the machine troubles itself awake. Kyle cleverly tells our friend "let me go get the truck, you are really going to like it" I laugh as Kyle nears with the aforementioned motorized vehicle. The drunk dwelling individual disgusting-ly reminds us that this heavy piece of machinery is not going to fit in a suzuki aerio the size of a match box car I made in 3rd grade for a wooden car show. By the way Kyle did you run over a squeaky toy or is that the sound of the engine begging us to not lift a 350 pound ground hog into the bed of this neat truck. The tailgate or back hatch at half mass, two pieces of twine, yes twine people, in place and a big red head holding the medal beast with both hands we dance our way down the highway back to the humble abode.

I learned a valuable lesson about the term "heavy machinery", with an hour of intimate interaction with the ground hog, I found man hood, a line of callouses on my left hand, and a 81 foot trench to lay a new plumbing line.

A cup of coffee is not just a cup of coffee if you find your payment in the form of brown coffee co. An artist named Aaron intricately roasts a chemex for one of the greatest cups of coffee I will ever taste. For a moment I was thankful, for three friends a table of brilliant coffee and a long morning of work.

Snapshots of life from green eyes.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

of thankfulness, homelessness, hospitalized Olive and family

One of my favorite times of the year is the Thanksgiving season. It seems that in America we can't enjoy one season thoroughly before rushing on to the next. In fact we are so concerned about getting to Christmas that we miss the entire point of being thankful. For me it has nothing to do with the turkey, stuffing, jello salad, smashed potatoes, or ten different choices of pie.

One of my favorite memories of Thanksgiving was the day spent in South Africa under candlelight, with nothing but an empty stomach and a thankful heart. Sitting around with my friends watching each share a piece of chicken that I could have consumed 3 or 4 of. In that moment I was scared. My heart would never be the same.

To have nothing and still be able to sing praises to Him that so richly affords us everything. That snapshot will follow me to every Thanksgiving dinner table and may it follow you this season. May you step away from the table with thanksgiving falling to the ground in the form of tears.



I am reminded of a family that has been suffering through trials for the last 2 months. The polinders still thankful for the many blessings. The blessing of Olive Hope. The blessing of togetherness. The blessing of hospitals and doctors and prayers. The blessing of a place to sleep in Thailand. In the last two months Olive has grown an immensely heavy thankful heart in each of them and in me thousands of miles away.

Yesterday I stood under a bridge in San Antonio as hundreds of homeless and less fortunate found a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup and bread, cookies, and hot chocolate. In search of a homeless man named Jimmy. I stood and thanked God for the suffering that surrounded me. The pregnant lady just days away from pregnancy, the drug addict who looked like he had been hit by a car, the crippled, lame, blind, those without both arms or legs. I stood behind the serving line praying for each as they passed by. Smiles returned, thanksgiving in their hearts. Some quoting the promises from scriptures, some praying out loud, some cursing their situation. All for His glory. He gives and takes away. This season let us be reminded of that which has been given oh so freely.

In the midst of our nothingness He provided light in the darkness.

A remedy.

A soup line.