ForeverMore

Response to "Single and Angry about It"

2012-02-14T08:03:00.001-06:00

Good stuff. I alsothink that there is something deeper at play here. We're born with a tangled ball of desires,from hunger to the need for companionship, and we are taught how to manage,satisfy, repress, and indulge in those desires. We learn that eating one thing is wrong, and eating another thing is"right." Who teaches us? Well, you could say trial and error, orcommon sense, but the truth is that most of us learn these things from ourenvironment.

A parents role in this regard is crucial. They, more than any other influence, willshape our attempts to address our needs and desires (terms that are oftenconflated).

But, when parents are too busy, too over-worked, tooafraid...or too whatever, kids are sometimes casting about for answers, and theflashing lights of culture are more than happy to step in and fill our needs.

What does our culture say about our desires for a husband orwife? Or better yet, what does ourculture say about desire in general?

First, I think culture teaches us that our desires are themost important thing about us. That wewant happiness, and getting the things we desire will bring us a measure ofthat happiness. It also teaches us thatwe are in charge of ourselves - that we can "create meaning" meaningin our lives. We can invent ourselves,we can be whatever we want to be. Welive in an "i" world, where the goal seems to be to get as much as wecan while we can....and sit on the can (as a pastor once said).

When it comes to relationships, I think "most"people (the average American - armed with a functionally secular, post-modernworldview, even if they say they believe in a higher power) are afraid nomatter what stage they are in. If theyare single, they are afraid that they'll be left behind, unhappy, unnoticed,unpicked. If in a relationship, they areafraid that they'll be abandoned, left for someone better, or stucksettling. We seem to always have one eyeon the road ahead, looking for the possibility that something out there (thenext best thing) will emerge and we should jump at it...and one eye on our canof stuff, making sure that it isn't going anywhere and that no one is trying tosteal it. With eyes pointing indifferent directions, no wonder we're disoriented.

My point is that our culture has taught us to think thisway. We eagerly await the next thing(iPhone, movie, experience, vacation) because we're instructed by everythingaround us to consume more and more. Themore we consume, the happier we should be (this is the heart of thematerialistic worldview). We're alsodeathly afraid that everyone else is somehow happier than we are. I think this fear is also taught to us by ourculture - because we live in a culture that relies on comparison. Apple wants us to compare our phones. Papa Johns want us to compare our favoritepizza. Tommy wants us to look at ourneighbors jeans with envy. How manycompanies want us to compare our spouse, family, car, house, or dog food to ourneighbors? Every single one ofthem.

But it trickles into more than just the material goods weconsume. We can't help it. The comparison extends to a juxtaposition ofmy ability, talent, sense of humor, charisma. Am I as handsome as the next guy, do I have as good a singingvoice? Am I as smart? Did I get as good a grade? Why did he/she get that paper published whilemine was rejected? Why did he get thejob, I thought the interview went great?! Why don't I have more twitter followers or more comments on myblog? Assaulted. That's how I feel much of the time. Who am Ibeing assaulted by? Myself. Why am I under attack, what is themission? My "happiness." I want to be happy, so I attack everythingabout myself trying to find ways to improve.

What does this look like in real life? A lot of grabbing for what we can get rightnow. A lot of anxiety. A lot of chest thumping and "look atme" moments surrounded by valleys of loneliness. See Whitney Houston. I read the other day that the majority offirst dates in America involves sex. Wegrab at what we can get while we can get it.

How do we change this? I think we need an entirely different worldview. We need a different mission (not our"happiness" but something more real). After all, if we're supposed to decide on our own what makes us happy,that's simply too much pressure for us to handle confidently. We turn to something/someone else to tell ushow to be happy. Maybe the originalexistentialists were better at formulating their own happiness, but I thinkthere is a reason why so many of the great humanists eventually turned todespair.

Our worldview is rooted deep within us, and it's almostimpossible to change quickly. We can'tjust rip of the band-aid in one quick, painful stroke. We need to be transformed - and not by ourown effort, but by someone outside of ourselves. We were shaped by a force greater than anyindividual, and our transformation requires an even greater power to correctit.

In Christian "pop culture" we talk about beingbroken as if it was a good thing - we say that God is breaking us so that hecan rebuild us. I think there is sometruth to the idea - although I think we sometimes toss the terms out therewithout really believing the "breaking" is necessary. Sometimes we just want the sympathy :)

I guess I think transformation is what we really want. We are born with all those desires and wedon't know what to do with them. We tryto put them together in some order, we try to make them listen to us. It's like training a wild horse, and thenclimbing on it's back and hoping we can ride it to happiness. I think what I really want though, is forsomeone to get into my DNA and actually give me new desires. Or maybe there is one hidden desire that allthe other desires hint at, and if I see it clearly, and if God steps in andmeets that desire, all the other desires will suddenly calm the heck down andwait for instructions.

I went to see a symphony play Handel's Messiah over theholidays, and before the conductor comes out, all the musicians are doing theirown thing, warming up their instruments. It's a cacophony, and it's how I feel inside most of the time. Each desire doing it's own thing, with noreference to anything else. But then theconductor steps up, raises his arms, and the sounds cease. And then the musicbegins. It's almost impossible tobelieve that what sounded like mindless noise just seconds earlier can resoundwith such beauty now. they are the sameinstruments, but now guided by the score, the conductor.

Some people think we need to write our own music. I think there is a song out there, written bySomeone who knows music much better than I ever could, and written specificallyfor me. I can fight it, stubbornlyhammering away on the keys in defiance...or I can wait for the cue.

One Thing I've Learned in Seminary

2011-12-16T08:44:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, my professor was discussing love in Systematic Theology. First, how fantastic is the truth of that last sentence?

We were talking about two kinds of love, eros and agape. In Christian circles, these two words for love are at least generally familiar, but the way he categorized them yesterday was interesting. Eros, a Greek word for desire, normally associated with our English word, erotic, encompasses more than sexual desire. It is a love that gets pleasure from the object being loved. I "love" the Celtics because I enjoy watching them play and win.   I love Handel's Messiah because it reminds me of things higher than myself, things that inspire me. I "love" Chipotle because they make a mean burrito. But, the key is that in each of these instances, I'm getting something from the thing that I love. Even when we talk about love between people, this is often what we mean - I love my wife because she is beautiful, smart, sincere, etc. We love this way because we are not self-sufficient. As humans, we actually need things, food, shelter, love, security...and thus we love the things that give us what we need. We also want things, and we tend to be more emphatic about loving the things we want than the things we actually need.

But agape love is different. We usually translate this Greek word as "unconditional love" because we don't really have another word for it in English. Perhaps "charity" comes closest, but even charity has a slightly different connotation. The important thing to understand about agape love is that it is not the result of the subject having value, but the value comes from the one doing the loving. When I love something with agape love, I love it not because it is valuable or because it gives me something. With agape love I am not looking to get anything in return, I need nothing and want nothing from the object of my love. But it's more than just unselfishness; with agape love, the lover actually gives value to the loved.

Only God can really love with pure agape love, because only He is self-sufficient. He actually needs nothing, so when he loves, value extends from God to the loved object (me and you) in one direction. His love bestows value. There are so many implications. To name a few:
1. I don't have to try and be good enough for God to love me, he loves because of who He is, not because of who I am.
2. I cannot do anything to change the way that God loves me.
3. I do not have to try and create my own worth by producing something of value or "living up to my potential", I have value because of God's love for me. You might think this is a license to live apathetically, but actually find it permission to live in freedom.

Psalm 8 says, "What is man that thou art mindful of him?" Incidentally, I noticed that this is also the inscription on Emerson Hall, Harvard University's philosophy building. In evangelical circles, I have heard both, "you have nothing to offer God" and also "God loves you so much that he would die for you." At first blush, these statements seemed at odds with each other. Either we are have nothing valuable about us, or we have so much value that God would become man to redeem us. But agape love clears the air; yes, it is true that God needs nothing from us and we can in fact offer nothing to Him that He could ever need. But at the same time, by loving us, He imparts value to us as only He can.

Psalm 8 goes on to say, "You crowned us with glory and honor."   There is a clear movement of worth, from God to us. God, the subject, giving glory and honor to us, the object.

The notion that our value originates from outside of ourselves is a slap in the face to the American worldview. We tend to think of ourselves as having intrinsic value, that we are important just because we exist. We teach our children to love themselves because they are inherently valuable from the time they are able to understand any type of communication - read Generation Me or The Narcissism Epidemic, both by Jean Twenge, a sociologist, for a sobering analysis of the impact of this self-love on society.

I'm not saying that people have no intrinsic value. I'm actually still working through what value we actually have on our own. Clearly, there is a value to life itself, and there is value in humanity in general; we usually call it "human dignity." But I think even that innate value comes from our being created by God, in the image of God, and given responsibility for the earth. I am saying that whatever value we have, it is not the reason that God loves us.

We do see apage love around us, small glimpses still ensnared in our neediness, but still glimpses. When a mother loves a child, I hope it isn't merely because the child gives the mother pleasure, I hope that some part of that love is apage love, flowing from the mother to the child on the basis of the mother's heart towards her child.

But, I do believe that our ultimate value does not come from within, but is given to from outside.

Let's talk about Sex: Baby

2011-12-03T19:56:00.001-06:00

I'm lying in bed this morning thinking about sex. I'll get back to that in a minute.

You know how you visit a remote part of the world, or some historically significant marvel, and you want the moment to linger? What do you do? You go to a souveneer shop and you buy some cheap trinket, like a mayan cosmological calendar. Why did I spend twenty bucks buying four shot glasses from Manchester, England? Why do I have a $1 chip from the Imperial Palace in Vegas? It's because I knew that those moments were unique. I knew that I might not ever be there, in that place and in that moment ever again. I wanted to commemorate it, yes, but I wanted more. I wanted to ensure that in the future, I wouldn't forget how special those moments were.

So you take that "forget-me-not" knick-knack home with you. You take it home and you set it on the mantle or you stuff it in the closet, all in the hope that you can remember your visit to Chitzen Itza in thirteen years. You hope that the memory won't fade because you snatched a shell off of the beach where you went on your honeymoon. You snap hundreds of pictures and fill albums with memories frozen in time.

Or you buy a diamond wedding ring for your wife, knowing that she'll look at it every day for the rest of her life.

It's as though we know our experiences once over, begin to fade, and we fight that inevitability. We want something from that moment to journey with us as we travel forward. We try to make the moment eternal.

Which brings me back to sex. It's pretty awesome. But that's not really the topic at hand.

What I find fascinating is that sex has a built in forget-me-not. I shouldn't be surprised, we want the special moments to linger, and as part of the grand design, sex is not only an amazing moment, but it is has the potential to be a moment of creation. You don't have to take a memento with you. Instead, in some cases, the miracle of sex produces the miracle of birth. You get a baby, one that doesn't gather dust on the mantle, but a new person who lives and grows and travels with you through life. Now, I think birth has more value than just commemorating the physical act of love making, but I also think it's a pretty amazing way to remember a pretty amazing moment.

Maybe when I'm a parent (God-willing), I'll have a different opinion?

Do I like Don Draper?

2011-11-28T11:56:00.001-06:00

Silly question, perhaps, considering the fact that Mr. Don Draper is an invented character in a television show. How can I like or dislike a figment of someone's very creative imagination? But then again, practically speaking, what separates the story of Don Draper from the story of Augustine regarding my ability to learn from or identify with the story? Besides the truth that Draper isn't real, does that mean I can't find some nuggets of truth echoed in his storyline?

Draper, the main character (I hesitate to call him the hero or protagonist) of AMC's hit tv show Mad Men continues our culture's current fascination with morally ambiguous characters. Dexter is an oxymoron, a "good" serial killer. Walter White (Breaking Bad) is a "good" drug dealer who produces the best meth around. The Wire is perhaps my favorite tv show of all time, and every single character is what we in the English world would label "dynamic." George R.R. Martin's great success with Game of Thrones is that after some did-he-just-do-that gut wrenching scenes in Book I, we're not even sure who we are even supposed to root for. What does this say about us as a society? Nothing, some of you would argue. But as a former teacher of American Pop culture, the need to speculate on what this means is in my blood. Perhaps we're so used to people in the public eye projecting one image publicly and being someone quite different underneath (see Sandusky and Paterno for extreme examples; Kobe, Britney, and Big Ben being more run-of-the-mill models of moral calamity) that we want the same type of moral complexity in our entertainment heroes? Maybe we have grown tired of the simple days when you could root for Rudi because he was good and hate the warden at Shawshank because there was nothing in the world that could redeem that selfish prig. Back then we Superman was good, the Hulk was leading an host of loyal little Hulksters, and Michael Jackson was almost normal.

To be honest, I kind of miss those days.

Now we can't even let Santa Claus be purely benevolent. And the only guy in history that we can safely and categorically label as evil is Adolf Hitler. Everyone else, it seems, deserves some sympathy and understanding.

Which brings me back to Draper. He's a selfish, arrogant, womanizer who doesn't give a crap about who he uses to feel better about himself. He slept with or played tongue twister with so many women during Season 4 that I once turned to my wife to see if she'd changed the channel to The Bachelor. He has little or no time for his three children, and he constantly overlooks the sacrificial efforts of the very people that look up to him the most. But there are moments, maybe once or twice a season, where he does something spectacular. He'll get tickets to The Beatles for his daughter, acknowledging that she does exist and he does know enough about girls to give a perfect gift. Or he'll fork up 50 grand, covertly, to cover Campbell's chunk of collateral so that the company stays afloat. Or he'll pick the one girl from the bunch that actually might be able to love his children with gracious honesty instead of the one(s) that have the right pedigree.

Do I like him? I don't know. I respect his stick-it-to-the-man attitude, especially when he gets his back against a wall and feels like someone else has taken control of his life - then he'll do something crazy and unexpected that flips the tables to his advantage. It might be brash, but at least he's calling the shots instead of hiding from the bullets. I pity his lonely existence - an existence under-girded by the fear that someone will discover that he's not who he says he is and take away everything that he's built for himself. I cringe at the bottle of whiskey he uses for absolution and escape.

The more I watch the show, the more I think it's about identity. Who, exactly, IS Don Draper? Who are any of us? Are we what we create ourselves to be, or are we what someone else has created us to be? I can already hear the chorus sing, "I just am who I am, dummy." Yeah, but I think we say that in order to avoid the question, not answer it.

Maybe what I like to think about Draper is that I think he's good at the core, but just confused about it. He's been battered and beaten, but he's trying to figure it out. Isn't that the quintisential American quality that we glorify? Determination. He doesn't give up, no matter how hard it gets, he keeps swinging and fighting even if it kills him. More than a loser, the worst thing to be in America is a quitter. We also cast devil eyes at those who feel entitled to keep and grab what we don't think they've earned, whether very rich or very poor.

Sure, the fact that Draper exists tells me something about American values. But probably more important is what my reaction to him tells me about myself.

Henri Nowen

2011-11-14T13:29:00.001-06:00

I read an article today about Henri Nouwen, a man I'm just starting to learn about. The article, written by Phillip Yancey in 1996, commemorates Nouwen's life, a life that seems as incomprehensible as it is beautiful. Here's the link.

He left a world full of accomplishment, achievement, and influence for a life of servitude. He went from the Ivy League lecture circuit to a facility for those with severe mental impediments. He did what I sometimes wish I had the guts to do - intentionally step out of the hamster wheel and do something that matters. Instead I worry and strive in an effort to secure the very type of existence that left him spiritually bankrupt.

At the bottom of our American infatuation with success and achievement is, I argue, our hidden dominant American value - Competition. The presence of competition is pervasive in all aspects of life, not simply the arenas of politics or sports where there are clear winners and losers despite the fact that we try to convince our kids that "everyone wins." Our materialistic culture is predicated on convincing consumers that they simply must have the latest gadget or most up to date trend in fashion. The fastest way to generate desire is to capitalize on our natural tendency to turn to our neighbor to see if they have something we don't have. Advertizing has long sought to convince us that what is available to us (for a small price) is much better than what we already have. The life we currently live is bland compared to the life that seems just a few dollars out of reach, a few years younger, or just one more rung up the ladder of recognition.

Of course our desire to compare ourselves to others might fuel the consumer market (and academics, for that matter), but the real dangers are spiritual not material. I wonder why someone else was recognized for their achievement, and not me. I wish I had as many friends, or could make them as effortlessly, as the guy down the street. Reading a stirring novel stirs up in me the question, "I wonder if I can ever produce something this good?" Satan in the garden knew that threatening us with settling for something less than the same authority as God was a sure way to get us to do something we knew would hurt us.

We instinctively sense that there can only be one winner, and we try at all costs to make sure we sit atop the heap, or at least, associate with those we perceive to dwell there. But ask anyone on top and they'll tell you how precarious that position is, and how hungrily the multitudes watch for a crack by which they can pull you down. Exhibit A - Lindsey Lohan. Exhibit B - Joe Paterno. I do not defend these two tragic figures, only illustrate that our glorification of success is also a constant test of the durability of that success. Our worship of is also an assault on.

That's why Henri Nouwen's choice was such a jolt to my senses. He rejected the system of comparison and competition. He made himself a servant. He started marching to the beat of a different drummer; a sound he had tried to quiet for most of his life became a bell calling him home.

"My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me." (John 10:27)

We often say, "Competition brings out the best is us." I don't agree. Maybe competition brings out my best performance, but to say that being my best is equal to my best performance is the same as saying that I am only worth what I can produce. Ayn Rand's argument is that we must free the best and brightest from social obligation and moral concern so that they can soar to the heights of their potential, and maybe in the process create a better world for us to live in. In her world, each person looks out for themselves exclusively and acts only in their own self-interests. Be all that you can be.

I guess I like the example of Jesus better, who didn't use his power and position as God in-the-flesh for his own glory, but set aside his own glory in order to give us the life we could never gain for ourselves - despite our desperate climb.

I guess that's why he doesn't make sense to people. He didn't come to conquer or win, he came to serve and love. He didn't collect adulation but administered healing. He didn't come to give us merit badges, he came to wash our feet.

It's incredible to think that I'm on the receiving end of that exchange, and that nothing I have done or can do has earned me the privilege. If I could ever overcome my awe at that miracle or begin to let it change my very identity down to the very core, maybe I could start to think about what it looks like for me to initiate that type of relationship with others. Instead of competing with them and comparing myself with them, maybe I could have the freedom to love my neighbors without fear that I'm somehow losing something in the exchange. Maybe I could help them soar without feeling jealous.

Be Who You Are

2011-10-06T14:52:00.000-06:00

There are a few statements that I want to remember from the panel discussion I heard Tuesday night. On the panel were four couples, each engaged in some type of post MDIV ministry. Their honesty, vulnerability and wisdom left an impression on me. I actually think those three characteristics are crucial for anyone who wants to work in ministry today.

Things I want to remember and take to heart:
1. Be Who You Are. This is close to the overused, and often trite, "Be Yourself." But, it was something that I needed to hear again, and expound upon in my own reflection. Included in the phrase is the powerful verb BE, which is how God chose to reveal his own name to us. There is something important about being present, about existing in the present rather than on our past laurels or future dreams. I don't want to wear my resume around my neck. I don't want to measure my plans for the future against everyone I talk to. I want to be. I also want to be who I actually am - this means both in Christ and who Christ has made me.

2. Do What You Enjoy Doing. I've long kept this type of advice close to my lips, but lately it's seemed far from my heart. Sometimes I get so comfortable standing outside of my experience and analyzing it that I'm not even sure I know what I enjoy anymore. Or I enjoy too many things and don't want to have to pick among them. For me, right now, I want to be more free to enjoy what I'm doing and also more observant so that I can determine which of those things make my heart quicken.

3. We are called....To Be Faithful. I loved this sentence. One of the pastors said it, and I love him for it. We love to talk about our "calling" in the Christian sphere, and that tendency is in overdrive at GCTS. Everyone wants to know their own calling and talk about how their calling came to them and where their calling is leading them. Most of the time I'm jealous, because I haven't had God tap me on the shoulder in the middle of lunch and tell me what He wants me to do. This is one of the potential sources of anxiety for me at the moment. When am I going to get my call? When will I know my purpose? In the meantime, I like the thought that I'm called to be merely faithful. Now, that isn't exactly easy (I use "mere" per the example of CS Lewis' famous apologetic), but at least it isn't incomprehensibly complicated.

4. To Grow in Grace is to Grow in Dependency. The Christian worldview cuts so counterculture, doesn't it? We strive so desperately to cut all of our dependencies - especially when it comes to individual self-sufficiency. I want to be able to handle every task and accomplish every mission without needing help. No study group for me. No counseling for marriage. No need to have friends, no sir. But the entire Christian life is a life of asking for help and sitting in that help once it's gracefully given. Martin Luther said that with God we can only receive, and give nothing. I want to grow in grace, which means that I need to get used to the idea (and more importantly, the feeling) of dependency.

5. The Gospel is the only thing we can preach without being hypocritical - it's the only thing that our sin actually confirms. I just thought that was super profound. A guy on the panel named Michael John gets credit for that one.

6. Remember the Sabbath. This is good advice for life in general, but my first year of seminary seems like a good time to entrench this habit in my life. I need to take time to rest, to remember, to enjoy and to laugh.

So as these things percolate in my heart, I've come to an assurance that I want to remember: I'm convinced that God brought Megan I together specifically. I'm certain that He didn't bring us out here for nothing. There is something about us and about this course that are important to the grand scheme. Those two convictions help me when I start to think that I need to see the future in order to justify the present.

Wake Up Call

2011-08-15T10:48:00.001-06:00

Discussing our new life with Megan yesterday. We've been under the weather emotionally of late, surrendering to a melancholy mood created by a combination of scant finances, ignorance of the area, and confusion over what we're supposed to be doing every day.

Three straight days of nothing left us frayed around the edges.

It reminds me that we're created to produce something, to participate and engage the world around us. A Taoist metaphor came to mind: the image of a man truly in harmony with nature stepping into a rushing stream and leaving no wake behind his body. He was so "at one" with the river that he does not disturb the water at all.

That's exactly the opposite of my instinct. I don't want to blend in unnoticed. Granted, I don't want to disturb the world around me, but I want to leave an imprint. I want my life to matter. Not just to be heard, but to leave a wake.

Thanks, Big Boo

2011-07-26T23:43:00.000-06:00

It's just starting to feel real. We're picking up the U-Haul tomorrow. Tonight is the last night I'll sleep in this house. This home.

Our cat, Big Boo, likes to play with this tiny paint roller. It's about 3 inches long, and is designed to reach small corners and other places that the normal paint rollers can't reach. After we retired it from active service in the paint corp, Big Boo adopted it for her own personal use. She particularly likes to push it under our baker's rack and then reach furtively for an hour trying to recover it. She also likes to play fetch with it. My mom's little dog Thor never got the gist of playing catch, but our crazy cat loves it.

Tonight I watched her go through the entire performance. Paw the roller, push it under the baker's rack, stretch and reach from one angle then the next, flick the tail back and forth with purpose, finally extract the roller, fetch it, wait nervously as I hesitate to throw it, spring forward as it arcs through the air, pounce! Prance back to deliver the roller for another toss...

I've seen her do this at least 84 times.

These are the kind of things that get me the most. These are the things that make me familiar with this place. It's knowing that the downtown Shakespeare's is better than Shakepeare's West. It's hearing a rattle and knowing exactly what is making that sound in the living room (Little Boo positioning herself between the window and the blinds). It's knowing about what time the mail comes every day. It's knowing that I can call dad if I get in a jam and he's just five minutes away and always willing to help. It's being sad when one of our flowers doesn't make it, even though we picked it out and nurtured it for weeks. It's that spot in the lawn that I could never quite get to look green enough. It's knowing how to pull into the drive way just right so that we don't scrape the bottom of the car. It's knowing that my wife's parents would take us to Flatbranch and stay even after dinner for just one more beer. It's knowing a little about our neighbors just from watching them stroll about the block in the early evening.

It's remembering all of the "firsts" that have taken place in the walls of this house. It was our first home, where we put our first furniture, our first bed. It's where I laid down my first tile job in the three seasons room. It's where I first learned what a three seasons room was. It's where I installed the dishwasher so I wouldn't have to pay $99 for someone else to do it. It's where we brought home our first pets, painted our first room together. It's where we envisioned having our first child.

It's been an amazing place, this home. It is brimming with memories. Megan and I sat in our living room, surrounded by boxes, remembering. It was so hard to cope with the recollection. I was overcome as I glanced at each corner. That's when I started watching Big Boo do her thing.

I don't know how to say goodbye very well. The only consolation is that this should be hard. Still, I can't help but hate these endings. Endings just feel wrong. The end of my favorite novel or movie, although a pale sibling of the more significant endings, hits me in a similar way. I ache for it to continue, to live on and to let me linger for another moment.

But it slips away. The door shuts, we sign the papers, we drive away. We leave home.

But then we turn down a new highway, trickle our way down a new street until we reach another door. We greet new neighbors and visit new burger joints. We go as we are called to go, knowing that this life is full of changes. That's just the way things are. For as much comfort as I find in the familiar, I don't know that I could survive for very long without The New. Add that to the list of paradoxical aspects of the human condition: we continuously long for something new while we cling to what we already have.

In this hour of ending, on the precipice of something very new, I cling to several things. My Lord, my wife, my conviction, and my humility. I will need all of these in abundance in the coming years.

But the only way I can take Big Boo is in my mind's eye. She can't live on campus, so she's staying behind. I think I'll leave the roller behind, too. She'll need it more than I will.

God in Fiction

2011-06-30T16:48:00.002-06:00

Children of God by Mary Doria Russell

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A satisfying follow-up to Russell's powerful first foray into fiction, The Sparrow. Although there are dark elements in the sequel, they are tempered by a hope that bubbles up from injustice of misunderstanding. The Sparrow relentlessly threw questions at me, ones that I needed time to reconcile. The sequel resumes the conversation, but now I am left with Russell's more optimistic answers to the human problems of suffering: that we endure and move forward, even though we do not fully understand. She also highlights our need for caution before judging others. I enjoyed these books because they were more than compelling page-turners - she forces us to blunder into the deep waters of the human condition, shivering from the cold but doggedly treading water in an effort to save ourselves. Maybe we can only being to look for a hand to reach out and save us after we've done our best to save ourselves.

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in search of awe

2011-05-30T11:06:00.000-06:00

Last week our school routine was disrupted the howling sound of tornado sirens. Fourth hour is already tough...students can smell 3:00 like sharks smell blood in the water.

As the students were marshaled into the tunnel downstairs, I quietly made my way to the exit to see the sky. Don't worry, fourth hour is my conference period - I was not responsible for students' safety in that exact moment. I joined two other custodial staff members already hunting for the initial signs of a funnel cloud. There was anger in the air. The clouds were at odds with one another, their movement hostile and fierce. I stepped on a bench to be a few feet closer to the gathering storm, craning my neck to get a better view. Rain began to slice towards us, and lightening danced from cloud to cloud like fish leaping from a rough patch of water. There was electricity in the air, and I marveled at my excitement. The moment stretched for a minute....then another blessed minute...then all the way to five...

Then the bellow, "I need you all inside!" Our resource officer, not a woman to ignore, repeated the warning, "Get into a safe room. Now!" I lingered outside, and she directed her intensity towards me specifically. "Sir, everyone needs to be in the building."

"But I work here, I'm a teacher!" The usually trusty line gained me absolutely zero ground with this woman. She did not care who I was, she needed me to come inside. Social norms compelled me where common sense could not, and I retreated to book room behind our media center where students huddled over their gaming devices and cell phones, seemingly unconcerned with the potential danger heading in our direction.

And that's precisely the reason I stood in the parking lot - there is something about danger that both compels and repels. I have always loved storms, especially the coming storm. A gathering storm is something awesome to behold. I have never stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon, but I presume the emotions are akin to what I felt as wind and rain clawed at my skin last week. For all of our impressive man-made devices, nothing invites me to the brink of awe quite like the power of nature.

It reminds me of a healthy kind of fear that I should have for the things that are truly awesome. I overuse the word more than any other. "Awesome" has become a filler word to hide an awkward moment. It can convey anything from "that's cool" to complete agreement. I don't want it to lose it's meaning.

Just like I don't want to live my life hunkered down in the book room, avoiding the awesome and dangerous power of being on the brink. The metaphor fits well, don't you think?

Our culture is dominated by fear: fear of boredom, fear of losing our youth or beauty, fear of being alone. I was afraid of being single for the rest of my life. We're afraid of death and of pain and change. We're afraid of AIDS and the bird flu. We're afraid of second hand smoke and foreigners.

I can't help but think that we're afraid of the wrong things - and that it's even the wrong kind of fear that we bear towards those things. There is a healthier kind of fear, a fear that draws us out rather than makes us shrink. A fear that excites even as it humbles.

full speed ahead

2011-05-23T18:18:00.001-06:00

Sometimes we judge the correctness of our decisions on the consequences of those decisions. We say things like, "Well, we'll have to see about that" or "Time will tell." Last week we traded in two of our cars in order to get a single car, hopefully more reliable, definitely with better gas mileage. We bargained our way to what we thought was a solid deal with Travis, and Megan asked me, "How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "Time will tell."

Who knows if this car will last longer than either of our cars. We can't really tell if this was a good decision. It's only in retrospect that we know if this car was a lemon or a diamond in the rough.

It's tempting to think of the move to Boston through the same lens. Is it a good decision? Maybe. Maybe it's only a good decision if we get jobs in five years, or if we sell our house in the next three months. By what criteria should I evaluate this decision?

If recent consequences are any indication, the decision has not been stellar. Instead of peacefully settling into my dreams last night, I lie away wondering if we'd ever sell our house. Just how many months could we pay both our mortgage and rent in Boston? Today Megan fielded an email from a school in St. Louis - they wanted to know if she was still looking for a math job. She turned them down. It's hard to turn down two jobs at two great schools for no job and an unknown school in Boston.

Of course I feel acutely responsible for this decision. And I own the consequences as well.

However, I want to believe that some decisions can be Right regardless of the consequences. I shouldn't have to wait for the perspective of years on this one, right? Can't I know, with certainty, that moving to Boston is the right decision for us without waiting to see how it turns out? Can't it be the right decision even if we go broke and crawl back to CoMO with only the clothes on our back? Surely this can't be a cross-my-fingers, close-my-eyes-and-leap deal!

Someone told me that it would get harder before it got easier. I don't think I'm even close to the "harder part" yet.

The End of the Road

2011-04-19T17:24:00.004-06:00

I used to love that Boyz II Men song. I guess I still love it.

When you come to the end, how do you commemorate the moment? How do you capture the essence of that chapter of your life, and celebrate it? How do you communicate how much you've grown because of the people that you knew? The people that changed me for the better.

I have a school family. I have a dad who has mentored me and guided me, who believed in me and taught me how to be a good teacher, a good man. I have brothers. I have sisters. I have fought in the trenches with these wonderful people. Each and every day, we gird ourselves for a noble cause. We have given our very lives, poured out our heart for what we do, and for the kids we teach. We have picked each other up, broken and bruised. We have laughed together more times than I can remember. Over the years, we have collected bulletin boards full of memories, photos of pranks, trinkets from students, fictitious certificates of merit. We have battled misconceptions about education, misrepresentation in the press, and miscommunication with parents. My brothers and sisters gather to regroup and refocus, to remember why we got into this job in the first place.

I have deep roots here, roots that crawled past muck and found good earth. The roots have helped me grow in ways I didn't anticipate. I'm stronger than I was, bolder. I'm less afraid. Eight years is longer than I've ever spent doing anything. I read an article the other day about grit. It said that grit was working at something for a long period of time, years even, and sticking with it. The application asked me for my greatest accomplishment. I said that it was the program that I've built. I don't know if that fits into the category of having grit, but as I sit here tonight, it is the thing that I have spent years working on, and I hope that it's been a job well done.

It's been a sad day for me, and the sadness has become more acute as the evening wears on. I guess I take comfort in the sadness. It tells me that my time here has mattered, that what I've been a part of is important. If it was easy to leave, I'd feel that my time here was....wasted, or something. I'm humbled by everyone's love. Know that it's with a heavy heart that I make this decision. Not that it's a burden; rather, it has the weight that comes when something is significant.

Just to give these thoughts some symmetry, I can't help but think of another Boyz II Men classic, "It's So Hard To Say Goodbye". Yep. Sages.

Living a Better Story

2011-04-09T09:24:00.002-06:00

I just finished reading Donald Miller's book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It was moving and deep in its simplicity. He reminded me of things I once knew and believed as a child. That we long to live an adventure and that taking risks is what makes a story great. A truly great story is about sacrifice for a noble cause. The greater the sacrifice and the more noble the cause, the better the story. This is true, not just something that writers utilize to make money. In our real lives, we will wither and our souls will diminish the longer we go without living a great story.

He reminded me that our stories might not have a definitive climax - those things really do only happen in books and movies. We have memorable moments, but no climax that marks the turning point between struggle and joy. The two are always present, the struggle is never completely overcome and the joy is never completely fulfilled.

He reminded me that we won't live a great story unless we try to live one. The don't knock on our door and invite us out to play. Well, maybe they invite us, but they won't drag us against our will. We have to accept the invitation, we have to get off the couch, out of the network, and unplug from our roles as receptors. We have to engage. There are moments when we turn to each other and say things like, "Now THAT was really living." We know that living takes initiative. It takes risk and sacrifice and both of those things are uncertain.

I want to live a better story. I don't mean this in a theoretical sense. I don't mean that I want to "see the world differently" and solve my longing. In some ways, I can't keep doing the same thing I've been doing. I can't keep letting life pass by my house and search for someone else willing to interrupt the comfort of life in order to really have life.

I'm talking about real change; a change born from commitment and discipline. The type of change that requires a daily decision, not a one-time emotionally driven resolution.

I liked that he said that when you live a better story, you take other people along with you. You can't help but share the new story - and you learn to listen to other stories, too. You find more meaning in the things around you.

Just an hour ago Megan was talking about her dog, Kit, who had a tumor that had crawled into her brain. She was suffering yesterday, and Megan's mom called to figure out what to do - Kit was at the end, and did Megan want to say goodbye. She didn't get to, and yesterday, amid the joyful prospect of our future, I could see the sadness and loss in her soul. "It's just a dog," she would say apologetically. She would fend off tears with quick blinks. Then at night, she slinked out of bed repeatedly to get another tissue.

This morning she told a few stories about Kit. She remembered the day that they got Kit - they had actually picked out the cuter puppy in the cage, but another family took that dog home. For a moment Kit was left in the cage alone, and in that moment Megan couldn't imagine leaving the unwanted animal to an unknown fate. She remembered the afternoons when she would take Kit running after high school, or when she's come home from college. She remembered the stories and the moments that Kit helped mark for her. "It's just a dog," she continued to say, but with the realization that almost nothing is "just" anything. There is meaning. We know, in our deepest soul, that these things matter. The memories become stories, and the stories help us remember that there is meaning to life.

Miller talks about watching his dog just be a dog, and the joy that it gives him. I think God gives us these moments as an act of grace - as a reminder that all these things matter.

Enchantments

2011-01-15T10:47:00.003-06:00

Woke up this morning and for some reason grabbed The Weight of Glory off the shelf. Read the sermon, and it stirred in me that deep desire that I am so good at shoving under the waves of busyness and nothing.

A quote stuck out to me, so much that I actually posted it on facebook for all:

"Spells are used for breaking enchantments as well as for inducing them. And you and I have need of the strongest spell that can be found to wake us from the evil enchantment of worldliness that has been laid on us for nearly a hundred years." Lewis

It struck me that maybe I'm under that enchantment, especially as I think about next year and what the future holds. It's easier to envision a future here in Columbia. I can almost, not quite, but almost imagine what the next 20 years looks like: this house, the fence repaired and a new patio installed, RBHS with a growing core of teachers who love kids and believe that education matters, childen (God willing) bounding and tumbling around the feet of their grandparents...

But then this morning happens, and I realize that what my soul longs for isn't contained by that vision. That somehow, in my version of the future my actual heart is left on the outside looking in. I'm not sure that I can maintain both feet firmly in the life that you offer and still run sprint/marathon of my current life. At best, I'm trying to keep one foot two worlds that drift ever apart.

I need a spell to break the enchantment. Didn't you say that to find my life I would have to lose it? Didn't you say that you came to set captives free?

In my heart, I don't really think of what comes "after" or what I'll do at the end of three years. My motivation would not be primarily service or accomplishing something "great" for your sake. Rather, the first movement of my heart would be for you, and you alone. I would go because my deepest desire, which only finds shadows and echoes, is for my restless soul, as Augustine said, to find its rest in you.

School Daze

2010-10-18T18:24:00.003-06:00

There are days, like today, that I honestly think teaching is the most difficult profession in the world. I know it's not. I'm sure it's much more difficult to be the superintendent. But sometimes I think that job can't possibly have the range of demands. I reached a breaking point today, maybe the low point of my teaching career.

In Pop Culture our study of the American Family has brought us to the 1970s and 80s. The plan was to watch an episode of Good Times and one episode of Family Ties. Halfway through the episode of Family Times, a girl comes up to me.

"Is this all we're doing for the rest of the hour?" she probed.

Leary, I asked, "What if it was?"

"Well, if it was, I thought I might be able to make up a test in another class." As far as I could tell, she was completely sincere in her request. I hung my head in disappointment and disbelief. I didn't exactly know how to respond, to be honest with you.

Sensing my hesitation, she pushed her case, "I really do have a to take, I'll get a pass from the other teacher to prove it."

I couldn't muster an answer other than a simple, "No." She sat back down in the mass of seniors. As I looked around the room, only 20% of the 50 students had any paper out to take notes. I could see the glow of cell phones texting under desks. I noticed that a couple of kids had left...presumably on an errant quest to find the bathroom or drinking fountain. Either destination was less than 15 feet from the classroom door, yet they had been gone for more than a dozen minutes.

I felt defeated. I don't like to use the phrase, but I felt disheartened. I lost heart today. Just last week I tried to inspire the best out of them, and yet when we put on a video, no matter how we try to frame it or what type of question we ask, I cannot get them to care. They immediately check out, as if they've been conditioned to think that movies equal a waste of time.

And the crazy thing is that the poor girl who asked me to leave probably has no idea why I am so frustrated. She probably legitimately thinks that her request was reasonable. Of course I would let her leave, after all, we were "just watching tv."

How can I convince them to really evaluate pop culture when they can't even analyze a tv show for 20 minutes? How can I get them to invest and think deeply? Do I have to turn the class into reading handouts and filling in blanks for them to do anything?

It was my worst day. 8 years into teaching, and I've never had a class that was this challenging.

I am at a loss.

Conviction #3

2010-02-09T12:21:00.003-06:00

The single most significant crisis facing our country is our national debt. I am completely convinced that if we don't do something to curtail our annual deficit and start to pay down our debt, our country will collapse as all the other great empires have collapsed before us. Rome, Great Britain, the Ottoman Empire....these great empires fell at first through internal problems, not external invaders. Obama just signed into reality a budget that includes the largest deficit spending of any budget in the history of America. I am absolutely terrified of what will happen to us in the future. We cannot continue to spend money that we don't have. Right now, our national debt is equal to 64% of what America produces in a year. Let that sink in. Watch this documentary, I.O.U.S.A.

I am convicted that in every upcoming election, I will vote almost solely on the candidates stance on balancing the budget and paying off our national debt. Obviously, this will include taxes, healthcare, social security, and trade deficits.

But we have to do something. We can't just print more money (which the government sometimes resorts to) because that will devalue the dollar so that pretty soon my $1,000 is really only worth $100. We can't raise interest rates to keep away inflation, because that decreases the amount of money in the system and prices skyrocket and we get a depression. We can't keep letting other countries like China buy up all of our national debt. Right now America is dead last in terms of countries that are spending more than they make. Dead last. First: China. Compared to all the 200 plus countries in the world, China makes more than they spend each year. Did you hear me, we are dead last. We spend something a trillion dollars more than we bring in each year. How many years can we do that before the house of cards caves in?

We have to start saving our money. We have to face the reality that taxes will increase before this gets better. Bush spent more money on the wars in Iraq and Afghansitan than any wars before, and he also decreased taxes repeatedly throughout his terms. How does that make sense? How can we spend more money than ever, and simultaneously decrease taxes? We have to start to feel the hurt of going with less - we need to cinch our belts and have smaller houses and less expensive cars and normal sized televisions. We need to start buying the few products that are still made in America. We need to find ways to encourage companies to produce products in America and export those products to the rest of the world rather than buying everything from southeast Asia.

We have to be able to do something.

Conviction #2

2010-02-09T11:56:00.002-06:00

This conviction is based on watching Killer At Large, a doc that shows our nation's alarming rate of obesity. There are entire states where over 30% of the population is obese. A ridiculous percentage of our children are obese. The number of people with diabetes is off the charts compared to 30 years ago. We now see children with type II diabetes, something almost unheard of for our parents. The consequences are startling - amputations of limbs, greater risk of heart disease, liver failure, cancer. It's embarrasing, really. Shouldn't America stand for something important?

I am so angry. The target of my anger? There is blame to be shared, for sure. I look at the huge corporations again that make their money off getting us to buy things that we don't need. I blame government for getting into bed with these companies. I blame advertising for targetting kids as young as 2 years old, trying to turn every American into a lifelong loyal customer for sugary cereals, sodas, and candy. I blame the food industry and the government that subsidizes the production of corn in this country - we already have too much corn, yet farmers are paid to produce it, even when entire fields of corn are unused. Corn is in everything. Seriously, look at the back of a food label sometime...you'll see it: corn starch, high fructose corn syrup, corn by product. Even our meat comes from cows and pigs that are exclusively raised on corn because it makes them fatter faster than their natural grass diet.

The worst is that we have this warped sense of priorities when it comes to food. We want it fast, and we want it cheap. That's just crazy, when you think about it. Quality food doesn't come fast, and it isn't cheap. How the heck can McDonald's sell a double cheese burger for a dollar? There is no way in the world that you could make that burger by yourself for a dollar, but somehow the golden arches has found a way to sell you that burger and still make a profit. So we get in our heads the idea that food should only cost a dollar. And if you already have a limited budget for food, suddenly the cheapest option becomes the best option. If I can eat lunch for $4, and in less than 10 minutes, it makes sense, right?

But the consequences....I am starting to think that most of the major problems facing America are connected. The stock market, our dependency on oil, our rising health care costs, our national and personal debt crisis, the "war on terror"....aren't these things interelated? Just yesterday I heard Alan Greenspan say that "spending was untouchable" in America. He meant that nothing could stop the American people (and government) from spending money. We will keep spending even though we don't have any money to spend. It's like that with food, too. We will keep eating, even when we aren't hungry any more. Mom would teach us to eat all the food on our plate....but now our plates are 3 times larger than they used to be, but we still cram that food away because "there are starving children in Africa." We drink 44 oz cokes. When I went to Europe you couldn't even order a coke that large. A large over there was 22 oz, and I had the distinct impression that the only people that ordered those were visiting Americans.

We have lost our way. We can't just do whatever we want and expect someone else to bail us out when it all hits the fan. We can't eat ourselves to death and expect modern medicine to extend our lives and the tax payers to foot the bill for the effort. We can't sit in front of the tv and swallow the message that more is better.

I am convicted that I need to stop eating fast food entirely. I need to read the labels of what I purchase. I need to shop at the local farmer's market whenever I can. I need to start to grow some of my own food. I need to educate my future kids about commercials on tv, and about the importance of living an active life. The documentary opened with the story of a 12 year old girl who got liposuction. 7 months later she had gained all the weight back. She wanted to die.

I don't want to feel helpless in this fight. I sometimes feel as though there is nothing I can do. But then I remember one of the greatest gifts we have - free will. We can make decisions. We live in a democracy (I think), and we can vote and we can decide not to buy certain products. You can walk into a McDonald's right now and see that there are some moderately healthier choices - and that only happens because the consumer demands it.

WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THINGS. The only way that democracy works is if the people have knowledge of what is happening.

Snow Day Convictions

2010-02-09T11:21:00.003-06:00

Snow days are great for teachers. I've found time to watch two documentaries in the past two days that I wouldn't have had time to watch without the reprieve. I walked away with some new convictions afterwards.

Conviction #1 - Giant financial institutions are destroying the lives of many Americans.

This conviction is based on watching the doc Maxed Out. The film opened my eyes to the levels of corporate greed in some of these large banks - Citi, Bank of America, etc. During the financial market nose dive of the past two years, I jumped into buying financial stocks because they were SO low that it seemed like a straightforward way to generate a good return. So I buy financial ETFs (XLF, FAS) and individual bank stocks (BAC, C, AIG). But as I watched the film I started to realize that the only way that most of these companies make their real profit is off of the misfortune of others. All banks are in the business of loaning money at one interest rate, and offering savings accounts at a lower rate. In a rough sense, the difference between those two rates is the profit that a bank makes. What I didn't realize was how sinister some of the marketing strategies have become. Huge financial institutions will offer insane lines of credit to people, knowing that those people are high risks for defaulting on their debt. They'll go after low income populations - people desperate to pay their bills, the elderly, people who don't understand that making the minimum payment on a credit card will take 30 plus years to pay offetc - and when those people miss payments, the banks can come in an foreclose on properties, hire outside agencies to harass and shame people to get them to pay. It was heartwrenching to hear the stories of people who found themselves in a vicious cycle, and unable to find a way out of the mountain of debt and despair. Once you take on that burden, getting out can be virtually impossible...espeically when interest rates are close to 30% for some credit cards.

Think back to college, when you would pass credit card tables offering a free blanket or t-shirt if you'd just sign up for a card. You'd think, "I'll just cut it up when it comes, and never use it." Suddnely, in your wallet, you'd have 3 or 4 cards, each with a 1-2,000 line of credit. What had you done to deserve that line of credit? When had you demonstrated any fiscal responsiblity? Nothing and never. You didn't even have to prove that you had an income. But dang, that low cost, low quality T-Shirt was cool....until it dissolved in the wash after 3 uses. Back to the cards...the ones that you were going to cut up when you got back to your dorm. Might as well keep a few, just in case. Then you use up the money from mom and dad going to a few too many movies, or shopping for facepaint. And you'd use the card (just this one time) to order a pizza...or books for class, or that new hoodie from the campus store. Four months later, you're making minimum payments, most of it going to interest. Then you and your buddies decide that a spring break trip would rock, and you resort to using card #2, which you also quickly max out.

Yeah, it's kind of your fault. You make choices, you spend money you don't have which isn't smart. You make only the minimum payments, which only digs the hole deeper. But maybe your parents never really taught you restraint because they had little themselves. Maybe no one ever really told you what making minimum payments really meant in the long term. Maybe someone should have prevented credit card companies from offering you credit based on the fact that you're an American with a God-given right to consume whatever you wanted to. I will concede that there is an element of personal responsibility here. People need to learn about the dangers of going into debt.

But how? Who teaches us? Our parents, hopefully. Maybe the schools....but that seems limited. In the face of a consumer society that basically equates spending with happiness, we are fish in a barrel for these large banks. AND THEY KNOW IT. They make all of their huge profit off of people who fall so far in debt that they end up paying interest their hole lives. Every month that check comes in and the coffers expand. Sitting in their ivory towers, the fat cats stay far enough removed that they can't hear the cries of desperation that they have caused. They don't read the stories of students committing suicide because they are $12,000 in debt to credit card companies. They don't hear the anguished widow who can't make her housepayments and faces eviction from a house she has lived in for 30 years. They don't care that they gave a poor mother a $5,000 line of credit on the promise that she could finally pay to have the heat turned back on.

By the way, I like the new show on tv that takes CEOs and puts them to work in their own companies on the bottom of the corporate totem pole. It's awesome television, and part of me hopes that those big shots will see that the bottom line doesn't justify all the means.

I am convicted that I want to get rid of my financial stocks. I don't want to profit off of other people's misfortune. What do banks actually produce? I want to invest in companies that actually make a product, that actually build something tangible. It's hard to find that kind of company in American anymore.

You'd think that the government would do something. Isn't it supposed to do something to protect us? Isn't that the primary function of the government, to protect and serve the people? It has to be impossible to be an elected official - you get funding for your campaign from the richest people and companies in America, and in return you represent their interests in congress. Who represents the little guy? Who stands up for the poor and debt-laden? How can anything change when a small group of extremely powerful individuals have our politicians in their grasp? How can politicians ignore interest groups and lobbyists? It would take almost superhuman leadership and character - and when was the last time someone like that ran for office, or survived long enough to make a difference?

December Movies

2009-12-23T10:52:00.003-06:00

Maybe it's having two weeks off, or maybe it's the fact that my sister is in town, but I've seen two movies in the past 5 days. Two movies IN THE THEATER. That just doesn't happen.

AVATAR - I went into this movie expecting Halo 4 - thin storyline, emphasis on visual stimulation and stylized violence. I was wrong on both accounts. The storyline wasn't complex, but still possessed surprising depth. It's a hybrid plot, mixing the typical forbidden romance (Romeo and Juliet never gets old, does it?) with at least two subplots. First, the underdog native population suffering at the hands of the merciless greedy capitalists. Second, similar to Lord of the Rings, we are slapped across the face with the invasion of man-made machinery into a vibrant and healthy natural world. Like the elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien, the indigenous inhabitants of other earth are linked to everything around them - literally linked. The sub plot to this naturalist sub plot is the religious implications of a world nurtured and guided by a mother earth deity that is responsive to human efforts, particularly unified chanting and swaying. The scope of the movie is incredible, and sets a new standard for bringing a wholly different world to life on the screen. I saw it in 3D, and from the first moment, I actually believed that what I was seeing really existed. I never had one of those "I need to cut them some slack on that CGI stuff - it's too hard to make it look real" moments. It looked real. The Avatars are also twice the size of a normal human, which I never suspected from the previews. So judging just by visual experience, the movie is worth seeing. But, because of the depth of the sub plots, the movie also attempts to contribute something to our ongoing discussions about subjugation of the other (see also the movie, District 9) and about environmental responsibility (see, Wall-e).

This is exactly the type of movie that you expect to pay $8 for, and you feel like it was a fair trade afterwards.

BROTHERS - I walked in thinking that it was about soldiers in Afghanistan. Yes, yes it was. But that story was only the back drop. This movie is about what happens back home - both while our soldiers are out fighting, and when they finally return. I was unsettled by the film. With Avatar, I was transported to another world, and the connections to our world were understated. Brothers was more real than I was prepared to deal with emotionally. Every moment of the movie seemed a direct reflection of what actually happens in our world, and it made me think that as hard as life seems in the movies, reality is much harder. Being a brother myself, I could relate to the link between siblings, but also the comparisons and rivalries that can exist. I also have a weakness for female characters who tirelessly choose to do the right thing, but constantly wind up on the losing end of the scoreboard of life. Excellent performances by Toby McGuire and Jake Gyllenhaal - in addition to the physical resemblance, they were believable brothers. Natalie Portman, stellar as always. The story is tense throughout. I spent much of the movie with my body braced in anticipation of something terrible happening. Terrible things do happen, and the movie doesn't attempt to push them aside to make the ending more palatable. It is messy. People are flawed. We don't know who to blame. A neglectful and abusive father? An inability to communicate to other human beings because of fear? The ugly reality of war? We don't have clear answers, which strikes me as Right.

I walked out of Brothers thinking. Just thinking. I couldn't find a way to deal with the fact that the world isn't what it should be. I didn't know where to put my frustrations, and there was no way to dismiss the issue.

Movies are rather amazing. Final ratings: Avatar, 4 out of 5 stars. Brothers, 3.5 out of 5 stars. If you judge movies by their ability to affect you - bump Brother up half a star.

Childhood

2009-03-11T21:56:00.005-06:00

I just emailed Megan, but thought I'd post a little of what I shared with her. In class this week I had the kids read Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Illych, an methodical exploration of how we reject the prospect of death. At one point Ivan laments the loss of his childhood, a time of impulsive morality before he learned that adults could be wicked and praised for it. As adults we have an amazing amnesia regarding our childhood. I really can't capture what it felt like to go outside and "play in the backyard" or what would possess me to pile three friends on a dirt bike and see if we could make it all the way down the hill.

I feel sad because I was looking at this picture of the four of us webel kids on mom's facebook. Aaron and Debbie are pretty cute, and it just made me miss childhood. It seemed so simple in retrospect, and sometimes I long for that simplicity. As an adult, looking at those pictures, I can sort of imagine, in the tiniest way, what it might feel like to have kids. It seems ridiculous and impossible to have them, actually. There can't be anything in the world that seems more connected to you than your children. Of all the things we can create, from art to poetry to spaceships...nothing compares to that miracle. It is hard to think about.

I haven't felt this mixed up in a while. I miss feeling mixed up, it's the thing that keeps me centered and helps me remember that I'm alive and that I am not in control. When I think I can handle everything or fill out a list of things to do in my head, that's when I'm furthest from Christ. On my voicemail the other day Blazer made the off-hand comment that I liked feeling jacked. I thought about it for a while, and I think he's basically right. I do like the feeling of being so in tune with my soul that I feel a little unsettled.

Surprise

2009-02-25T23:09:00.007-06:00

Our story starts two years ago, but the moment currently etched in my memory is last Saturday night. Because I'm a little afraid that it is etched in wood instead of steel, I'm going to try and record the memory with words.

January: Brainstorming begins. I contact one of her good friends for some basic information about the ring. I wonder if I could propose at an all-school assembly? It would be memorable, and it would be taking advantage of our unique circumstances. But it wouldn't exactly be personal and I wouldn't get to say the things I'd really want to say. Plus, it isn't very romantic to say, "Well, have a good second hour class." I thought I'd get a dog, tie the ring around it's neck, and let her discover it in my backyard. I thought about decorating my relatively new house - a house we had sort of picked out together, and a house that, during my initial cleaning, revealed a diamond ring under the kitchen sink. I thought about doing it at this lake in Jeff City that I knew meant a lot to her...but nothing really seemed perfect.

Then a plan started taking shape in my mind...

Step 1: Research diamonds. This turns out to be an arduous task. Diamonds are intense and complicated. There are the "four c's" (carat, cut, clarity, color), but it goes beyond that into depth and table percentages, girdle thickness, fluorescence, etc. It took me 3 weeks of exploration, some back and forth negotiations, several sessions with various stones under a high powered microscope. In the end I happily purchase a diamond from a local jeweler, Buchroeder's. It is perfect. Well, it was a size 7, but I was under the gun, and I figured that a ring that was too big was better than one that didn't fit on her finger.

Step 2: Talk to her parents. This is no less important than the ring, but it's not something that I can really research. It requires good old fashioned courage. Last Monday night I jump in my car and start towards Jeff City. I call Blazer and Fabs for moral support and because I need someone to push me out of the nest. I also quickly realize that I won't be able to call her parents while I'm driving, so I pull off onto a country road and drive til I find an intersection. I park, let the engine idle, and paced the gravel until I found the guts to push the send button. My cryptic request was confusing enough that they called me back and asked if there was something wrong. I assured them that nothing was wrong, and drove the rest of the way to Jeff City trying to pick the right words. I hadn't practiced this before. The actual conversation was easy, they both made it obvious that they were happy for us, and would gladly offer their blessing. We shook hands and hugged...and shook hands again. The dog seemed as excited as we were.
Step 3: Misdirection . Before I could set up the church, I needed to create the illusion. We'd been planning on going to a nice dinner ever since she bought this particular nice dress a few months ago. Didn't this seem like a good weekend for that dress to finally make its debut? Sure it does. Friday or Saturday? Well, highlighted hair looks much better than non-highlighted hair, right? Saturday, then. The subterfuge was taking shape. Now, how to get her to the church? I was scheduled to talk at The Crossing for Sr. High Sunday school, and I was desparate for a resource from Gary. Only I hadn't been able to get in touch with him all week! By the time Satruday rolled around, I was desperate for this resource.

Step 4: Set the Stage.
I went to the church on Saturday afternoon, brown bags full of all the right ingredients. I set up the communion table, and after a few meager attempts to arrange the candles, flowers, wine glasses, and "book," it ended up looking symmetrically decent. Earlier that day I had created a playlist of songs, arranged to fit the timing that I envisioned in my mind, and set up a little speaker so that we'd have a little more ambiance. I didn't know if that was a tacky touch or not...

Aside: "The Book" - Well, this was really the key to the whole evening. Allow me to preface it a little. Call it traditional, call it wisdom...or call it silly, but I have always stood by the idea that I wouldn't tell a girl I loved her until I was ready to marry her. There is nothing I can say that means more than, "I love you." When I say it, I want it to mean that I'm never going to leave. I want it to be a vow, a commitment. I want to mean what I think it is supposed to mean. That phrase, like many others, I've kept reserved and hidden. I collected these thoughts in my journal, and over the course of the last 2 years I've written dozens of entries about her. I took all of those entries and I created a book out of them. I wanted to be able to let her see the journey that my heart had taken, from the first time I met her at a coffee shop to the morning that I intended to propose. They were not all happy words, the time we broke up for instance, but all good stories include the valleys, don't they? I wrote and inserted an explanatory preface as the first page, and it became the centerpiece of the table and the evening. I wanted her to read it, to see my heart in words.

Step 5: Dinner. We had been talking about going to a "nice" dinner for a few weeks, so my suggestion earlier in the week that this be the weekend didn't seem out of the ordinary. That's what I like to call, under the radar. Our original plan, dinner at C & C's (not the pizza place), was thwarted by an hour and a half wait. A brief conference later we were driving to Rocheport and Les Bourgeois. In the back of my head I was thinking that this might even work better than my original plan. It really seemed that every little change that happened fell into that category - the night was going better than I had planned. Dinner itself was quiet and romantic, we felt like we had the place to ourselves. I asked her what her favorite memories of us were, and we let our minds reminise. At one point I even managed to hold my pinky finger up to her ring finger in a not-so-subtle eye-ball measurement. I assure you, she had no suspicions. Heck, I hadn't ever told her I loved her before....

Dinner was exquisite. We asked for the check and I reached for my wallet. Even before I got my arm to my back pocket I could see it in my memory, resting in a very uncommon spot on my bedroom floor. "I don't have my wallet," I muttered sheepishly. It was a funny thing to forget, and that omission, as much as anything else in the evening, could have tipped her off. I can't remember forgetting it before. It does make for a comical twist - on the night she got engaged, Megan paid for our dinner...
Stage 6: The phone call. As we left the restaurant the plan began in earnest, and I started to run through the checklist in my mind. I texted mom, and a few minutes later she called. Megan could overhear mom's side of the conversation as we began the drive back to Columbia.

Mom: "Hey, how's it going."
Me: "Great, we just got done eating dinner at Les Bourgeois."
Mom: "Really, thought you were going somewhere else...anyway, I just got a call from Gary and he said that he found that sheet for you. He was just going to leave it at the church rather than come all the way to Columbia. I was going to run out there and pick it up for you."
Me: "Oh you don't have to do that! In fact, we are already out that direction, and it will be easy to swing by and pick it up on the way back. I'll make Megan go."
Mom: "Okay, sounds good. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say hi to Megan for me..."
Me: "Will do, good night..."
Mom: "Love you...bye!"
Me: "Bye..."

I was proud of her for not even saying, "Good luck." She played the part perfectly. We were off to Grace Fellowship. Before the night started I put together a Ray LaMontagne songlist for Megan to listen to (she likes him a lot?), and I turned it up and let her listen to it while my mind and heart raced to see which could outrun the other. Pulling into the church parking lot I suddenly realized how creepy a little country church can be at 10 pm...
Stage 7: Pull it together. I left her in the car, engine running, listening to Ray's supposedly smooth seranade. I bounded the stairs, found the spare key, opened the door after a few fumbled attempts, managed to insert the key in the lock. I found the lighter that I had slid behind the pulpit, lit the candles, started the music (not tacky at all) and took a few deep breaths. I did a quick inventory and decided that everything looked the way I wanted it to...and yes, I was going to have to take a quick trip to the bathroom to calm my nerves. I went back outside and opened the driver's door, blurting, "I can't find it."

"Can't you call your mom?" Um, this wasn't exactly the response I was looking for...

"Well....er...it's so late...I don't think she'll be up, and besides, she probably doesn't know where it is. Can you come in and help me look for it?" I stammered. She was a little skeptical at this point, but she stepped out of the car, climbed the stairs, and entered the church ahead of me.

As I walked in behind her, she slowed to a stop a few paces into the room. Music softly echoed in a sanctuary lit only by the soft glow of candle light. Roses, candles...what was this? She turned to me, confused. Very confused. I wasn't prepared for her unspoken question, and I managed only to say, "What's going' on?" She looked back towards the table at the front, and I mentally kicked myself...be confident, you know what's going on here, she's the one in the dark. My second sentence was better: "You should go check it out."

She approached the table, and I wondered if I would be able to stand still enough to pull this part off. "You should read the first page." She knelt over the table, close enough to the candlelight that she could make out the words. While she read, I forced myself to stay perfectly still. My left hand was in my coat pocket, fingering the tiny blue box. I had to consciously command my body to stay still. The moment stretched into eternity. Finally she stood up and looked at me. I knew that she had just read these lines: "I always wondered who would ever want to read these thoughts. The only person I could think of was my future self, or my future wife. I hope I was right."

Two seconds ticked by. This was the moment I had rehearsed a hundred times. Still, I needed a little nudge from my heart. Slowly, deliberately, I heard the emotion in my own voice...

"You are the best person I know. I love you. I am in love with you."

A slight step forward and I was down on one knee, my hand slipped from my pocket.

"Will you marry me?"

When she heard me tell her, for the first time ever, that I was in love with her - her face transformed from a breathless stare to...I can't really describe it. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it. It was like a sunrise and sunset put together. It was joy and relief. It was my future. It was love, blossoming and brilliant in response.

Her "Yes" was immediate, and I rose to hold her. She was shuddering, "Is this real?"

Yes, it was real. On her finger, the ring was at least two sizes too big...

A few minutes later we sat down in the first pew, and I started to tell her about all of the stages. I told her about my assembly plan and about talking to her parents. I read her the page of the book that described how nervous I was driving down to ask them for their blessing. I told her that it was important to me that we take communion. Together, with the wine and bread, we shared the moment with our Creator and asked Him to be our foundation. As I prayed, I was overcome by the magnitude of the moment, and by the grace that I saw unfolding before my eyes. I read her the last page of my journal, the words that I had written earlier that same day, and I struggled to give my voice enough strength to get through that single page. It felt like my heart was expanding beyond my body's ability to contain it. So many things in my life had happened to bring me to that moment. I was overcome. I still cannot fully grasp what happened that night. And sometimes I doubt that miracles happen...

We spent an hour there, together. It was a good, good moment. The playlist plugged away, and finally we packed and locked the door behind us. I can't remember, but I think I actually gave the church bell a tug or two, just to let the woodland animals share in our joy...

Despite the hour, she started making the phone calls, and I called home to see if we could still swing by. There is a lot of joy in people's faces and voices right after you get engaged, which is pretty awesome, when I think about it.

I drove her home, no longer my girlfriend but my fiance. She kept fiddling with the ring, which was too big on any of her fingers. Still, she slept with it on that night. She also decided to read that last page of the book just one more time. Then she read it again. Then she decided to read the whole thing.

It was, like most things involving Megan, better than I could have hoped. She was beautiful and full of the grace that I love in her. All of the details fell into place. She was utterly surprised. I was thankful that the friends and family who knew kept the secret and let the day unfold naturally. The proposal was not grand, the setting was not public and ostentatious. Instead it was intimate and heartfelt. We had time to be with each other and I finally got the chance to tell her all the things that I'd held back for so long. I wanted to have that moment with her. It was our moment, but it also His moment--because He has us.

I titled our book "For the Joy." Once that idea came to me I couldn't shake it. With that thought in mind, I step forward to the rest of my life...

Who would have thought..

2009-01-12T21:34:00.001-06:00

That I would be considering going to seminary.

Thoughts?

Random Thoughts

2008-11-17T23:10:00.003-06:00

1. I wonder if I could actually write a book. I wouldn't start with a book, but something much shorter, based on my own life. I think I might try to write a page in the next few weeks, see how it goes...
2. I wonder often about how we decide to get attached to things. Let's say I have a child, but the child isn't really that cute. In fact, it is a rather pedestrian looking baby. Will my fatherly instinct kick and generate all kinds of loyalty and affection? Will I genuinely have a draw for this kid even though it isn't actually that attractive? In other words, how invented/created is the pull? I have been thinking about kids because there are so many of them around me.
3. I was rereading the parable of the lost son, which is really a story of two lost sons, and I was really identifying with the elder son, the one who banks on his obedience. He wants to secure his future by obligating his father to give him the inheritance. He feels like he has earned it. I just now realized that I feel that I've earned grace through my faith.
4. What would it look like for someone to actually live without pride? Seriously, what would it look like to see someone like that?
5. Even though I stole the idea of making lists, it feels natural.
6. Why doesn't my new house ever get cold? I haven't turned the heat on yet, and it remains between 68-72 degrees. I think there is a hot spring beneath my foundation, which would explain a great deal about my heating/cooling problems.
7. I have two favorite foods right now: the chicken and sausage bayou pasta at Flatbranch and a home-grilled pork tenderloin marinated with Shnucks brand cracked pepper and garlic marinade.
8. Even after 5+ years, I still enjoy grading papers because I get to interact with another person's thinking.
9. The Peanut Shop sells outstanding holiday gifts.
10. I never get to bed early enough, never get enough sleep, and I think I'm cutting my life short. You would think that would motivate me to change.

Heartache

2008-10-19T21:35:00.002-06:00

You go into something with the highest hopes, the situation seems perfect, you've made every effort to get to this point. You've been planning and anticipating this moment for the past 6 months. You are dressed for the occasion, full of expectations. All of the emotion makes it even harder to stomach what follows:

Stunned disbelief as the scoreboard mocks you...35-0.

MU was embarrassed yesterday, and I felt like I just asked a girl to the dance only to have her pretend she didn't notice that I'd even been there. It was a horrible loss. It just seemed like we were intimidated and unsure of ourselves. Chase tried to will confidence into the team, but we couldn't rebound from the initial punch in the face - a 7 yard loss on the first play of the game as a defender blasted his way through the heart of the Tiger defense to bury Maclin behind the line of scrimmage.

I stayed for the entire game. I felt like I had to.

When we weren't at the game, we were watching games on tv. All day Saturday and most of the day Sunday...more football than I've ever watched in a weekend, which is saying something. We did mangage to see a movie, and also eat more than people ever should. All in all, a nice, distracting trip.

Sometimes matters must be taken into our own hands

2008-10-15T07:59:00.001-06:00

I am Matt Webel

Adulthood?

2008-07-31T11:01:00.003-06:00

Tomorrow I am going to sign documents (many many documents) and at the end of the signing I think I will own this house:

Does this mean I am officially entering adulthood?

Cleaning

2008-06-26T11:59:00.003-06:00

Probably the most productive thing I've done all week, aside from getting a home loan from a bank, was cleaning the bathroom. Let's talk about cleaning for a minute.

1. I like cleaning in the same way that I like mowing the lawn. It is simple, a bit mindless, and you can clearly see your progress. It's very different from my job, which rarely lets me see any progress and is probably as complicated as any job that deals with human beings can be. Cleaning a bathtub, is by comparison, a "can of corn" (I watch a lot of baseball during the summer - GO ROYALS - winners of 10 of 11. Watch out Cardinals, we aren't the laughing stock anymore).

2. My fingers are almost bleeding. That's how scummy our bathtub was. Initially I thought, "no problem, this isn't even that dirty." Then I noticed that while the obvious spots were easy to clean, there was an entire layer of barely visible scum. I could just make out the streaks I was making with my sponge. The sponge wasn't going to cut it, obviously, so I switched to one of those metal brillo pad things (we invent some of the most useful stuff, eh?) and proceeded to scrub every inch of the darn tub, repeatedly.

3. It looks dang good right now.

4. It will get dirty again. Very discouraging.

5. During the 2 hour scrub session I started thinking about the parallel between the tub and my life. How dirty am I? Not "creeper" dirty, but how much crap do I have in my life that I've allowed to accumulate over the years? How much scrubbing would it take to get back to the way I am supposed to be? Who does that scrubbing, me or someone else?

6. I assume that it would hurt to be scrubbed. Emotionally and mentally hurt. Maybe it would look like sacrifice or remorse or maybe I'd have to have a few heartfelt conversations with people I've hurt.

7. Even though it would hurt, I would still like to be clean.

8. It is probably easier to clean regularly then let it all build up over a few months. Cause you never know when someone might need to use the bathtub, and you want it to look decent. Same goes for people.

9. Life is work. It is also marvelous and full of joy, but you can't escape the fact that it takes a ton of hard work. I think young American's hate hard work. I think that's the biggest difference in the American dream of my parents generation and the American dream of my generation and younger: My parents still believed that American's could accomplish anything they wanted, as long as they were willing to work for it. My generation believes that we can do anything we want, but that it shouldn't have to cost us our comfort. It should show up on our doorstep with a ribbon around it and say, "Here I AM!" We still hear the old mantra, "There's no such thing as a free lunch" but I think most young people think that there is such a thing. Meanwhile we all get dirtier.

10. At our core, though, we aren't dirty. We are really sparkle-y and rather wonderful. We just get dirty, and don't realize it. I bet if we ever saw a completely un-dirty person we'd think they were God or kill them or worship them or something. We wouldn't know what else to do.

RBHS Mission Statement

2008-06-17T11:54:00.001-06:00

I was instructed to put this "everywhere"....doesn't this qualify?

Mission Statement
Rock Bridge High School: Where Learning is for Life

RBHS Vision Statement

Rock Bridge High School will be a community in which students and staff inspire each other to become life-long learners.

This innovative community - founded upon the ideal of freedom with responsibility - will provide opportunities to help each student develop the skills necessary to be a contributing citizen of an ever-changing world.

Students and staff will work together to create, serve and achieve at the highest levels.

Summer Part I

2008-06-17T11:41:00.002-06:00

There are some people, many of them teachers, who think that the best part of teaching is the fact that we get "the summer off." While I'd like to point out the inaccuracy of that statement, I'll acknowledge that we do have a great deal of free time in the summer. I always hear people clamor for more time from their jobs, more time to do what they really want to do...but personally, facing a week in which I don't have a million things to do with my time, I'm not sure how to spend it.

This is the eighth school day that hasn't had school. On 3 of those days I went to school to help work on the schedule for next year, I went to a meeting for a committee that I'm on at school. I also spent 4 days in Cincinnati visiting one of my best friends....so my real summer started only yesterday. I didn't do much of anything, and in a way it was wonderful, but in another way it was alarming. Apparently I haven't outgrown the ability to waste an entire day of life. I still want to do something significant each day, and that's the real reason I love teaching so much. I love the fact that each day I get to interact with bright eyed students (I promise, they all want to learn, even if somewhere along the way they convinced themselves that they couldn't) and help them care about stuff that they should care about.

Without that purpose staring me in the face, I'm not sure how to make these summer days as significant. I don't want to be focused only on myself...I mean, I can get healthier, buy a house, go to baseball games, clean up the place, catch up on my reading...but all of that seems self-serving, doesn't it? Shouldn't I be doing something that serves a greater cause?

I'm not the type A guy who sets a list of goals to start each day, but it would be nice to see that at the end of the summer I'm in a different, and better place.

Pranks

2008-05-18T20:57:00.002-06:00

The kids are great. I mean, for all the joy I get from literature and history, the real reason I can walk into school every day is because they are amazing. The drive me crazy, and they also keep me sane. The break my heart sometimes because they settle for easy answers and don't believe in themselves; but they also inspire me to continue to pursue the dreams of my own heart. They keep me young, and give me fresh joy.

They stole my desk on Friday. I walked into the room to find a note taped where my desk normally is. "Payback" was written in bold red letters, and the lone occupied desk belonged to a student with a video camera. From there I embarked on a journey to find my desk, and just like Hercules many tasks were required. I drew a horrid picture of a baby, yelled in the commons at the top of my lungs, played ping pong with Mary, and sang a song to Megan in my chipmunk voice. It was embarrassing, challenging, and ultimately incredibly fun.

It was the most successfully planned student prank ever played on me. I am quite proud of their effort. I knew something was up when w.w. let the cat out of the bag, but still, I was impressed by their thoroughness and creativity. They are a one-of-a-kind class.

This is the kind of thing that makes me glad I work at Rock Bridge.

that weird frog

2008-05-06T22:08:00.002-06:00

M and I were walking on the trail a few weeks ago and sat down to enjoy the weather. The scene was a bench overlooking a rather ordinary lake scene, crickets chirping, birds warbling, and this silly frog staring at us from the water's edge. Initially I only heard him, a small repetitive croak. Then, after a few minutes of where's Waldo, I saw his tiny head barely eclipsing the watery surface. We stared at each other for a few minutes, me silently listening to his droning song. Croak.....creaoook is actually what it sounded like. That little bugger didn't bat an eye when I called out, "hey frog." Creaook. Reaching down, a scooped up a few pieces of gravel from the trail and lobbed them across the ten foot expanse between me and that frog. A few landed nearby, within a few inches. Still, that frog stayed strong. then on the eighth toss that little pebble fell smack on top of his little noggin. It sounded like someone had flicked a cardboard box with the back of their finger. His head dipped and rose again almost imperceptibly. You would think he would flash out of there, right? I mean, what was he thinking...that a rock just fell mysteriously from the sky and hit him on the head? If I was that frog I'd be under the water and away from the attack. But he sat there, paralyzed by shock, perhaps. I was pretty shocked myself. First, who hits a tiny frog's head with a pebble from ten feet away on the 8th try. And second, what the heck was wrong with that frog?

It was very strange.

Vegas Highlights

2008-05-06T22:01:00.002-06:00

I tried to write down a few things to remember about Vegas. I need a couple of good stories to tell the grandkids, right? So here are my notes, mostly meaningless to everyone besides me and the boys.

Jacked old lady at the Bellagio--telling me about a clan of Chinese descent living in Texas for the last 100 years. Deal the Cards.
MGM killing us.
28 yr old (!) waitress at the Planet Hollywood sportsbook.
AT splitting 8's--all of us losing all our money on that hand after having to go into our pockets to help him split in the first place.
Hilarious man at craps table @ the El Cortez. "Don't play scared."
"Lindsay Lohan is at the Hawaiian Tropic Zone." -Stuart
"I know when you should go!" me to Stuart on golfing, way too enthusiastic.
Kyle Korver missed 3...Izzy blowing save....8 hours at the PH sportsbook, priceless.
Mind numbing remixes playing 24/7.
Casino Royale---Blackjack switch and Stuart's roll.
100 on black during the last stand--hitting it.
"No homo" and 80/20.....
$20 trip to In-and-Out burger.
Batan Death March: MGM to PH at 4:30 am
Funny Mexican breakfasts
Russian Dealer
Being remembered by Sang from last year's trip--MGM Grand

Let it Ride

2008-04-28T22:47:00.002-06:00

Vegas is getting old, I think. The city itself is getting newer, fancier, high rises are jumping out of the ground, old casinos are gone, and new ones on the way. The city can remake itself, chameleon-like, ever shifting. I think that's exactly why people like it, because like the city they too can change and become. That's pretty much the exact reason that I feel sad when I stop and think about it. At first glance the Eiffel Tower seems amazing, but then you realize that it's just a copy of the real one. Caesar's Palace is powerfully daunting, but it's a mere shadow of the real Rome. The entire New York, New York casino is built to mirror the actual NYC skyline, and the streets inside are made to look like the real streets of New York. We walked through the "Miracle Mile Mall" and the ceiling was painted, somewhat convincingly, to look like an actual blue sky. But in the end, the illusion doesn't work, and I'm left with the eerie thought that everything around me is contrived. It's all a fabrication, a mockery of what is actually real and good in the world. It's the ugly side of human creation, the epitome of entertaiment for the sake of entertainment.

I don't absolutely hate it, or I wouldn't still go. But I can only tolerate it for a few days, and I can't stop and let myself think too much or I'll turn sour.

It is good to be back home and real again.

Old Friends

2008-04-20T13:30:00.002-06:00

That's a little tongue in cheek, for my friends aren't exactly old. (And neither am I....right?) What they are is pregnant. Seriously, everyone in St. Louis seems pregnant or with babies less than 3 months old. Blazer said it was something in the water...still, it was crazy to see so many little-ones-to-be. Blazer's kid is pretty cute, and incredibly verbal already. She said, "This is not a crisis" and it was hilarious.

It was good to see bailey's child, finally. An adorable, sleeping bundle of cuteness.

Mostly I just enjoyed being with the guys. I hadn't come up just to see them in such a long time. With Meg off to do her own thing this weekend, it just seemed like time to revisit my old home. It was a typical weekend with them, in the best of all possible ways: We played a board game Friday night, went to the Cards game yesterday, watched some NBA playoffs, played catch, enjoyed Blazer's art gallery, burned the midnight oil with some conversation...it made me miss being there. I don't have the same kind of relationships here as I did there. Those StL friendships are 10 years in the making. We have lived together, been in weddings together, and become adults together. I realized a few years ago that guys tend to develop friendships by doing things together (as opposed to talking to each other all the time), and while that is true of these guys, I think we do our fair share of communicating as well. They are perfect for me, and it's good to see them again. I didn't realize how much I missed them--they are a source of rejuvenation. Of course, the one thing we all share is probably what binds us together with stronger bonds than anything else in the world could.

Boston

2008-03-28T12:53:00.004-06:00

Megan and I went to Boston for spring break. Of all the places in America I'd never been, Boston was top on the list. The decision to go was random and suggested almost off-hand, but reasons to stay in Columbia never materialized. So off we went (cost be damned) to one the nation's oldest cities. The only thing I knew we were doing: watching the Boston Celtics play the Phoenix Suns on Wednesday night. My two favorite NBA teams, I couldn't pass up the chance to buy tickets and sit 18 rows behind Shaq and Nash.

I'll probably sit down and type more specifically later, but for now I'll just say that it's tough to come back to the reality of every-day-life in Columbia, MO. There is associated Romance (in my head) with places that carry the weight of history. Sifting through books in a new/used store in Concord, MA, the same town where Hawthorne, Alcott, Emerson, and Thoreau all wrote their best work, was one of those moments I didn't want to end. Walking along the Freedom Trail, seeing the Old State House Building, the Old North Church, the site of the Boston Massacre...these were the seminal moments in American history. As I drove back from Kansas City, I couldn't help but remember how much older everything in Europe is. Our country is just a baby. In Budapest our bus drove past the remains of a Roman constructed aquaduct. It wasn't even marked, there was no sign. That type of ancient structure is just part of the city. Here in America, all of our oldest things are not really that old.

I like old.

But I also liked the feel of Boston. It's smaller in scope than New York, felt more genuine and less pretentious. Everyone we met was hospitable, a woman even stopped on a street corner to ask me (the out-of-towner with a map in hand) if I needed directions. A waitress cracked open Megan's lobster without making us feel stupid for not knowing how to do it on our own. I bought tickets for yet another celtics game from a guy on the street outside of our hotel who joked around with us about how well we negotiated the price.

Some of the highlights were not the historical, but the atmospheric. Both Celtics games were awesome, but for different reasons. For the first we sat in nosebleed, but loved the rowdy crowd and New England accents that surrounded us. Our seats were much better for the second, and being that close to the game was amazing. I didn't leave my seat for one second...not to get a drink, hot dog, or use the restroom. It didn't really occur to me to leave. I needed to see every second, needed to see Mike D'Antoni draw up plays on his clipboard, needed to hear Nash yell after being charged with a technical foul. We ate at great restaurants, including a small Italian place that was so eclectic that it didn't have a sign on the outside. We almost walked past it twice before finally seeing the "M" that stood for Marco's on a small flag. The steak I had there was one of the best I've ever had. The aquarium was full of 7 year olds, but it was still amazing to see sharks and manta rays swim by on the other side of a sheet of glass. Harvard, and the Natural History Museum there, was quite an experience...even if the students were gone on break. Fenway Park had to be one of my favorite side trips. Even though we could only tour the park (the Sox began the season playing their opener in Japan), you could imagine the crack of the bat on a chilly Spring night and almost see the ball bouncing off of the green monster in left field.

We even shopped at a place my dad recommended (how strange is it that my dad recommended a place to shop?): Filene's Basement. It was pretty awesome. I bought an ohio state t-shirt there, because it reminds me of him and connects that moment to him.

I didn't want to come home. We didn't plan out every day, or even have much of a plan at all. I liked that part of the trip, too. I never felt bored or that we wasted any time doing things that were fun. I have far too many souvenir t-shirts.

Patterns

2008-02-18T22:53:00.004-06:00

There are people who feel the need to figure things out, and there are people who simply live. I am one of the people who needs to figure things out. The world seems full of questions; but when I think about it, I have enough questions in my own head to confound me for centuries.

(forevermore)

It's tough longing to understand. I'd probably call it a welcomed curse. I never feel like I actually have answers, I only have theories. Theories, I readily admit, that have been wrong in the past. A snip here, an addendum there...and the theory is modified. Sometimes the theory is nuclear-bomb-blown-up.

Lately I've been thinking about cycles and patterns in our lives--in the lives of humans in general. But if it holds true for all people, it should hold true for me as well. I draw up the cycle on a napkin or a piece of paper from the recycling bin, and then I try to determine the stage I'm stuck in. I feel stuck, I know that much.

It would be easier to not need to understand. Strike the absurd desire from my heart and I'd have fewer headaches and more friends. I'd probably have fewer pages in my journals, and a few less wrinkles in my forehead.

One of my favorite things is when someone asks me to talk about this stuff. I don't feel like that happens often, which is why I impulsively ask it of others. I feel sorry for our dreams, sometimes, as though they're neglected and eventually forgotten. I like to imagine that I harbor these conversations. I protect and shelter them from being lost in an anonymous sea of discord.

Headaches

2008-01-21T19:23:00.000-06:00

Depending on how well you know me you may be aware of my chronic battle with headaches. They seem to come in waves, and at times they render me into an immobile, writhing mess. That's right, immobile and writhing at the same time...how's that for a word picture? For years people have told me to "get it checked out" and I think it's finally to the point where I'll listen. I am a stubborn monkey.

I read something the other day about Imagination. It was about our need to use our imagination because it is a gift that only humans, among all creatures on earth, possess and it mirrors the type of thing God does when he creates something out of nothing. Unused, our ability to imagine dwindles and atrophies, and we are left taking life at face value.

I used to imagine much more than I do. I used to ponder, hypothesize, dream, create analogies and principles to live by. But I feel that most of that creativity was spent years ago, and now I'm subsisting on the residual fruits of that 7 year effort between the ages of 18 and 25. I rely on the ideas and thoughts I created then, but have little to draw from since.

Some of my students are quite creative, they are writers and painters and they amaze me. I was never good at creating stories. I wish I was, though, so I could create one in which I could right all the wrongs and save all the lost. That's why I like Holden, despite his self-indulgence...he wants to save people from the unforgiving reality of adulthood. I sort of wish I could have saved myself and kept my imagination intact. Maybe that's what blogs are for?

The Bubble

2007-10-22T22:50:00.001-06:00

A friend emailed me a while back to say that I've changed a lot in the last three years.

I posed the question to another friend, and she said that I used to metaphorically hold her at arms length, rarely letting her within that 3 foot circle of trust.

She continued. Now, she explained, instead of fending people off with my arms, I have a bubble around me. Only certain people can get inside of the bubble, and even then, only for short periods of time. She said that I used to let more people in more often, but now few people get in and the visits are brief. Her point was that I haven't changed in terms of who I am, but only in terms of how close I let people get to me. She admited that a lot of this could be due to my job, maybe part was a measure of maturity....but maybe part was also that I'm more careful.

I don't know the cause of my bubble, but I liked the idea of living inside of this invisible wall. I think it helped me visualize myself, and helped explain why I feel lonely much of the time.

Am I glad for the bubble? Yeah, most days. Do I wish someone would burst in and emplant themselves permanently inside of my bubble....yeah.

I was reading Donald Miller's Searching For God Knows What today. It's a fabulous book, I want you to buy it and read it. It reminds me that God is a real person, not someone to study. Anyway, that's not even where I got this quote...I think I got it from The Kite Runner (which I also read today). I'm pulling it out of context, but I read today that at some point "hope became knowledge". I liked that phrase....the idea that hope changes at some point into knowledge. I wish I could turn my hopes into certainty....I think that's what biblical hope looks like--not wondering and praying that something will happen ("Gosh, I hope it rains tomorrow), but knowing for sure that something will happen at some point in the future. I want that kind of hope, the hope that is assured.

Phil Collins

2007-10-09T21:07:00.000-06:00

I was listening to this Phil Collins song tonight..."Take a Look at Me Now." It's especially relevant for me now, and I embraced the almost palpable sense of loss...

I wondered tonight how many people in the world are lonely. It has to be a large percentage. First, there are all the single people. There are a million different scenarios--Maybe they never married because they never met that perfect person, or they did but they were too afraid to make it work. Maybe they are divorced and angry/bitter/confused because they were betrayed or abandoned. Maybe they've gone through the pain of the death of their partner, and now they are in a nursing home somewhere, sifting through memories like they are photographs. Then there are the millions who don't appear to be alone at all....yet in the middle of their marriage or relationship they feel completely unknown. Everyone thinks they're fine, but they feel trapped. Maybe some people out there feel this wall rising around them, brick by brink until they are completely unreachable.

I mean, doesn't it seem like everyone feels lonely? If we are honest, aren't we all lonely? We keep looking, though, don't we? For Something.

I'll close this post the way I started it, Phil Collins knows what he's talking about..

Take a look at me now, I'm just an empty space. There's nothing left here to remind me, just a memory of your face.

Take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space.....and you coming back to me, is against the odds, and that's what I have to face...

You're the only one who really knew me at all...

Tigers or Kittens

2007-10-06T10:20:00.000-06:00

I'm nervous about the MU Tigers game tonight against Nebraska. I was there for "The Kick" back in '97 when the then #1 ranked Cornhuskers cheated their way to a victory over Corby Jones and Co. I was there in 2003 when Brad Smith took over the game in the 4th quarter and overcame a 24-14 deficit on route to the first Tiger victory over Nebraska since 1978.

Now, amazingly, Nebraska comes to Columbia the underdog and ranked lower than the Tigers.

I feel nervous, and as a Tiger fan, how else should I feel? We seem forever on the verge of being a solid team, a team that "belongs" with the big boys in the conference. But every time fans get excited for this arrival in the land of the Top 25.....the Tigers disappoint. Look no further than last year, when after a 6-0 start the Tigers finished the year 8-6.

So when the lights go down after tonights nationally televised game, will I be nodding my head in recognition of our spot as one of the top 15 teams in the nation? Or will I be shaking my head at the same Ol' Tigers?

By the way, The Kingdom is a great movie...suspenseful and leaves you wondering if the cycle of violence in the world can ever really end. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Bug had to be one of the worst movies I've seen in my life.

life

2007-09-23T00:27:00.000-06:00

Life is confusing and difficult to maneuver. I'm giving at talk at Senior High tomorrow about fear, which I know a great deal about. I'm a very fearful person, a fact I hate about myself. Why can't I overcome fear, which isn't even a real thing, but something in my head. I wish it were real so I could chop at it with an axe or a sword. The fact that fear is inside of me makes it difficult to address properly.

I need help, from someone with strength to spare.

My life is so busy now, with being in charge of more things at school. Usually I can't find the time to sneak up on my soul and deal with things like fear, but tonight I took a break from stumbling through life and decided to sit down with my heart to have a talk. I'll let you know how it goes.

Europe!

2007-07-10T10:19:00.000-06:00

Today I officially leave for Europe. I'm pretty excited...is it bad to see the Harry Potter premiere in London when I get there early early tomorrow morning?

I'll miss you all, and try to take pictures. I did buy a notebook to journal in as I traveled the countryside...I'm going to visit Dachau, one of the most notorious concentration camps...might be the highlight/lowlight of trip....I hope Austria is as beautiful in real life as it is in my head...

Six Flags

2007-06-14T12:18:00.000-06:00

I went to Six Flags yesterday thinking it would be completely dorky...or at least dirty. My childhood memories of Six Flags consist of: standing in line for hours to ride the Screaming Eagle or Batman, drinking gigantic cherry Icees, riding that ride where the floor drops out but you stick to the walls by centrifugal force 12 times in a row and puking after the seventh but hopping back on of the last 5 rides, the terrible smell of garbage and vomit sitting in sweltering heat...and it was also a place where if you liked it a girl it was fun to flirt with her by trying to arrange sitting next to her on a rollercoaster.

All of these things seemed childish to me, and I didn't think I'd have any fun. We drove there (stopping for fresh off the conveyor belt Krispy Kremes) and as soon as I stepped into the park I was transformed into that little kid again. The park was empty on a Wednesday, so we went straight to the Superman ride--Tower of Power--which basically just lifts you 12 stories in the air and then drops you straight to the ground. Think bungee jumping without the bouncing at the end. In fact, we rode all of the rides several times. I got drenched on Thunder River (all four of us knew before hand that I'd be the one soaked to the bone..and sure enough...). They have this new Tony Hawk inspired ride that was sweet--think roller coaster where your car spins while you ride. We even rode the old school carosel and the giant ferris wheel, "Collosus."

By the end of the day my cumulative nausea was about 9 on a 10 point scale, but I tried to tough it out. I've always been susceptible to the slightest dizziness, and it doesn't leave, it just accumulates all day. We rode that crazy Tony Hawk ride again, and because the car just spins according to the weight distribution inside, we sat there after the ride was over just spinning and spinning around. We must have turned 30 times as we waited to get off the ride. It was horrible...and I was sure I was going to toss my cookies (or in this case my turkey sandwhich). Then I thought the Screaming Eagle wouldn't be too bad because it only goes up and down, no spinning. I have this idea that we can control our bodies just through willpower...that I should be able to master my dizziness and just suck it up. Well, Screaming Eagle was what pushed me over the edge, and I knew it was the last ride for me. I didn't puke, but only because I started to focus 90% of my attention on settling my stomach.

So while the rest of the crew went for one last ride on Batman, I bought a cherry icee and tried not to throw up. Then I got a huge ice cream headache and it turns out that ice cream headaches and nausea don't compliment each other as physical sensations...so then I needed 100% of my concentration not to puke.

All in all it was a great day. Even though I'm almost halfway to sixty years old, I still managed to have a blast at a good old fashioned amusement park. I didn't try to win any of those giant stuffed animals, which I regret. But I didn't see any football toss games, which I "always" win...and they always seem so rigged that I can't just throw away 3 dollars to try and toss a ring onto a bottle. (this coming from a guy who goes to Vegas every spring break).

So I've learned that I can still hang with those crazy rides, but by the end of the day I was ready to go home. I learned that sometimes you don't have to think through all the angles, sometimes it's okay to just try it (whatever "it" is for you) and sort through the pieces later.

Little Things

2007-05-15T19:31:00.000-06:00

When I really think about it, my life is pretty fabulous. The casual reader of this blog might assume that I lead a dark a miserable existence, marked by disappointment. The truth is that I am blessed, fortunate....and incredibly ungrateful almost one hundred percent of the time.

Here are a few of the "little things" in life that make me smile.

1. Playing softball on the faculty team every Sunday night. We've won all three of our games, had two cook outs, turned 1 double play, and had one significant injury. I was called out last week for stepping out of the batter's box on a swing. I play first base, bat cleanup, and have a blast.

2. I've been settling into my new role as department chair. I like trying to envision how things could be. It's as if I can see this puzzle floating in the air in front of me, and the process of fitting all the pieces together gnaws on my brain. I like it, it feels right. At the same time, I will have to give up one of my classes in order to do this new job. I'm going to hate that.

3. I'm going to Europe in July for 3 weeks. 19 students are going with me and a few other teachers. London, Paris, Munich, Berlin, Vienna, Salzburg, Prague, Budapest...does it get much sweeter than that?

4. I saw a commercial the other day for Alpacas. Have you ever seen an Alpaca? Those things are amazing. I want one. They seem like a cross between a monkey, a panda, and a sheep. Mostly a sheep, but the face of a monkey and panda...or something else equally adorable. They sort of make me laugh.

5. I dropped some money into a stock last Thursday on a random recommendation from Graham. Today it had gone up a total of 34%. I mean, thats the kind of stuff you always hear about happening to someone's buddy from college. It doesn't happen to real people. Ticker symbol: ONT.

6. The NBA playoffs are stinking amazing. The drama of the Warrior's victory over the Mavs, one unbelievable dunk by Flip, an even better one by Baron, and the Suns/Spurs series is heating up. Knees to the groin, hip checks, the league handing down suspensions...I mean, wow. All you people who say the NBA sucks...shame on you.

Okay, so maybe the NBA is kind of frivolous. Maybe alpacas are trivial. Maybe softball is just a distraction. Money is overrated. How about this: I was walking on the trail the other day and marveling at the way the sunlight filtered through the green oak leaves above. I was struck to the core by the realization that so much Beauty passes by unnoticed. I wanted to drink in all of those moments, not capture them but absorb them into my heart and somehow weave them into my soul and be better off for the addition. There is something magical about Life.

2007-05-07T14:23:00.000-06:00

I just want to think that when it's The One that it's different. I want to think that it's like dawn breaking on a life that had previously been dark. I mean, shouldn't it be that level of brilliance? I'm currently reading, and thoroughly enjoying The Alchemist, and it's awakening all these dormant desires in my heart. It reads like a fable. The main character, a young lad, runs into a girl in an Oasis in the desert. I know it's kind of lame to read a quote from a book on a blog, but I honestly think it captures the language of my own heart:

"It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was int he presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning."

I mean, that's exactly what I want to be true, and what I used to be convinced WAS true. I even thought I found it. I mean, I met this great girl who from the first moment captivated me. But we didn't connect the way it seems to in this passage. In effect, the world has beaten this hope out of me. Now I feel like I'm capable, for the first time in my life, of saying that it might not be true. It might literally be a fairy tale. I might be willing to take less than the dream.

Prom III

2007-05-05T23:50:00.001-06:00

Tonight was the third Prom I've attended, my second as a "chaperone." It is a strange night, on the whole I enjoy it. It's a night so clearly intended for these young adults to be their best, to be caught fully in the spotlight and announce their presence in the world. I see them almost daily, and even run into them outside of the halls of RB, but seeing them at Prom is seeing them anew. It's as though they are dressing up in these costume that don't quite suit them yet, they're on the verge of adulthood, but still protected by an innocence that the world hasn't taken yet. They laugh and dance without shame, and I love them for it.

Last year going to prom brought back memories from ten years ago, my own senior prom. I think I even blogged about it back then. This year I feel older, I feel not only a distance between the students, but also a distance with my now 11 year in the past senior me. I can't put myself in his shoes as easily. I can't remember what I felt then, or what I hoped for out of life. I'm not even saying I've changed all that much, because in some ways I know that I haven't. I just don't feel connected to him. It's a purely emotional thing. I don't feel what it's like to be myself.

The kids were really great tonight. They were dancing fools, gyrating, bouncing, wiggling, hopping, shuffling like it was their job...and I couldn't help but laugh and smile and wish I was one of them. They have so much Life in front of them! I wonder how different I would be if I could go back and do it again armed with knowledge of the way it would turn out? It's a senseless game to play in my head, but I'm still tempted to wonder what I would have done differently. We chart our courses as we leave high school, and can never retrace that path. Instead we are whisked away, and the swelling tide hasn't slowed for an instant. We are such slaves to Time...Why is it that whenever I think of the past I miss it so much? I can almost never think of a time that I wouldn't want to return to if I could. There is always a moment I want to recapture. That has to be inaccurate, I know that so many of my moments were painful and completely embarrasing. But I never think of the past as terrible. In my head it plays back as if it were perfect. I just read up on a Porcupine, and I sort of wish I could go back to that time too.

I need to notice things more, I mean things about people. I want to pay more attention so that I can celebrate the beauty and value I know is in each of them. I hate the feeling that I'm not noticing those things. I have this burning desire to be better than I am. Not even any specific skill, I just want to be a better person. I want to see the world clearer, I want to love more fiercely, I want to cling to what is good and aspire to what can and should be. I'm tired of feeling selfish, and worrying about feeling lonely and tired and wondering if I'm cut out to be department chair or if I'm actually teaching the kids anything valuable. I want to forget everything that deals with whether I'm performing up to my potential, really I want to forget about anything that has to do with me at all. I sat today judging someone someone who i thought can't see anything from a perspective other than his own, and yet that's exactly what I do. I see the world with my own eyes, instead of trying to see it the way that someone else does. If I could have one super power it would be the ability to see the world through other people's eyes. I'd learn, probably within 15 minutes, that I hadn't even come close to loving anyone. I don't think you can love someone until you see the world as they see it, until you see them as they see themselves. That would be a superpower worth having. It would be as much a curse as a blessing, but I think it would help me love better. And that has to be the only goal of wanting to be a better person in general.

Well Hello

2007-04-17T21:47:00.000-06:00

I'm back, and restless. Nothing about this post will justify the absence of what, three months, but I thought the day was strange enough that I'd try and capture it.

A recounting of the details doesn't matter as much as trying to convey my impressions. I feel like if I don't do it, it won't get done. By "it" I mean all the important things that cross my plate at school every day. I feel alone in my quest to do things the way they need to be done. I'm tired of feeling that everything I touch is cursed. It's like the inverse of the Midas touch. Perhaps we'll call it the Webel touch. Everything turns to coal.

It's one of those days where I need some affirmation that I don't do everything wrong. I sometimes feel that the way I naturally am is actually not a good way to be. I feel as though I am radioactive, damaging everyone around me unintentionally. I would give a lot for someone to say, "You're alright. You aren't harmful. You don't destroy things you touch. The way you are is the way you're supposed to be, the way you're designed to be."

I'm sure you all feel this way from time to time. I don't have anyone to lean on right now, no cave of solitude where I can find a welcoming shoulder. So I turn once again to cyberspace, and the veiled comfort offered therein. Are any of you still out there?

Reluctant

2007-01-20T12:01:00.000-06:00

I have decided to do something drastic, a step some of you argue is long overdue.

I have been informed (by a friend) that, contrary to human nature, some have taken advantage of the level of information I put on my blogs. Being a high school teacher does the trick. (I have even heard that some have treated my life like it's a sitcom. Well, in some ways I can see their point.) I liked being open and honest, and I've come into contact with many dear friends who I've lost along the way through these words. However, I am going to divide my thoughts, saving some for trusted friends, while leaving others for the whole wide world.

This blog will still be operational, and I'll still be myself, but I will try and save my deep heart for another page. If you would like to visit that page, email me and I'll gladly grant access. I've enjoyed finding so many of my long lost friends on here that I can't abandon Forevermore.

my email: mattwebel@hotmail.com

when do you want something too much?

2007-01-08T01:47:00.000-06:00

I drove to a wedding in Illinois yesterday. It was the wedding of a guy who was 17 when I first met him. He was a senior in high school and it was my first year in K-Life. His group of friends was my first small group. It was wonderful seeing him, now a young man, college graduate, marrying a girl he's dated and loved for years. I was proud of him, and of the rest of those guys. They're DOING things with their lives. One of them was in Dream Girls, a movie I watched over break. I didn't notice him, a newspaper reporter, so I'll have to rent it and take a more detailed look. One is getting his doctorate degree on his way to preaching.

My little brother, the actor, has decided to go to medical school in the fall. Now my father will have two children to carry on the "Dr. Webel" name. I'm proud of him too.

I got a text message tonight that another old St. Louis K-Life girl was now engaged. She was a HS sophomore when I met her.

Austin asked me late last night what I thought the chances were that I got married. A strange question, all the more strange coming from him. Slightly startled, I said, 60%. I think I HAD to say %60, for my own sake. Truth be told, I would put it under 50, but to admit that outloud was more than I was ready for. So I said 60. A student told me on Friday that she didn't think I would get married because I overanalyze my feelings too much. I overanalyze love too much. I don't just let myself feel, but I try to figure out if what I'm feeling is real. I try to decipher if my feelings are based on something real, of if they are false, invented, or imagined. I DO analyze my feelings. I want to make sure I am not just reacting, I want to be able to mean everything I say and promise. Love is a feeling, but if it is only a feeling it will not last. It has to be based, founded, on something more permanent.

I asked KB if he ever thought he wouldn't get married. He basically said that he didn't think God would give him the desire unless it was meant to be fulfilled. He prayed that either God would take away his desire for marraige....or give him the gift of a wife. He found her in his mid thirties, and told me just tonight that it was all worth it. He appreciates it more now that he's gone through so many years of waiting.

On the bright side....on the bright side...I know. Focus on the bright side. I love my job...I love the students I get to see every day. They crack me up, keep me young, attempt to help me answer all of the questions I have about the world. I am surrounded by great colleagues, and have a fabulous teaching partner. I have Godly friends who I do nothing to deserve. My family is beyond what I could hope for. I am known by Someone greater than myself, and have been saved, redeemed, and given Life forevermore.

Even though the wedding yesterday didn't carry the gravity I normally attribute weddings, there was a moment that struck my core. I've seen The Moment at all the weddings I've been in, and from my best man's perch I've always had the best view. It's the moment the bride actually gives her vows. The look on her face, on each of those bride's faces, stopped my heart in my chest. It is the moment where she says, "It is you. I want you, for as long as I live, and with all of my being." I can't fathom being on the recieving end of those eyes, hearing those words. If my %60 prediction comes true, there will be a %100 chance that in that moment, I'll be the most humbled, the most honored, and the most awed I've ever been. The closest to heaven that I'll ever be. The best man had better have a hanky handy.

hypothetical resolutions

2006-12-20T23:00:00.001-06:00

I gathered with some of my dear teacher friends yesterday after school. My roommate had to drag me there because I was half asleep on the couch. I am tempted almost daily to collapse at the end of the school day, especially the last day before Christmas break. Reluctantly I stumbled out the door.

I sat there with 5 fellow teachers, eating jumbalaya and talking. A question was posed, and we took turns responding. "Has it been a good year?" I was first, and of course I needed clarification--the 2006 calendar year, or the academic school year? Okay, the 2006 calendar year. I didn't have much time to think, and I ended up saying, "good." A measure of cowardice and a dash of convenience rolled into a single word. The truth is much more complicated, and surely demands much more than a single word answer. The truth is that my first thought went to the fact that I'm almost to the one year reminder that I am still picking up the pieces from my last relationship. The truth also is that I haven't been much interested in trying again, or starting over. I haven't met anyone who interests me. In my entire life I have only met a handful who have turned my head, and she perhaps most powerfully of all. And it didn't work. Perhaps the blame rests on me, and I failed in some way to perservere. She said that loyalty (love) meant choosing to stick it out no matter what, but then I walked away when it seemed to me that I had no other choice. Maybe I tried too hard to convince her I was worth it, and so never really believed her when, two years later, she said I was. If you looked at my life, you'd say I'd moved on. On closer inspection, you'd realize that I haven't moved at all. I merely stopped.

I said that my year had been "good." It was, at best, a partial truth.

There was a second question, and by that time I had wised up...I "passed" so I could have time to think more. The question: "If you could make a New Year's resolution, what would it be?" I normally never make resolutions, it seems trite and too much like the thing "that everybody does." I'm against things that everybody does.

I answered, though, with three resolutions that I would make if I made resolutions.
1. To do a better job communicating with my good friends and family. I'm embarrased at my lack of response to their phone calls. Returning phone calls has never been my strong suit, but my behavior this past year has been hideous and frankly, rude. I'm sorry, my dear friends and family. My siblings live hundreds of miles away now, and I love them and want to talk to them more. I want to KNOW them better. I think when I stopped, I stopped in more ways that just in terms of romatic relationships. I guess you could say I'm a turtle who has pulled his head back in to avoid the world and seek the solace and safety of his shell.
2. I want to be more reflective. Another teacher, a wonderful veteran teacher who has given me some of the best advice I've had in terms of teaching...but more than that, has been a mentor and friend, seemed shocked. She said I was the most introspective person she knew. I pull that act off well. The blunt truth is that I haven't been reflective this year. You'd think inside of my shell I'd have nothing but time to think about myself, about what i've been through, what it all means, if i've done the right thing. I've asked these questions since discovering, during my senior year of high school, that the world is not a simple place. It almost never makes sense. But I've always tried to sort it out in my head. If I couldn't make sense of the world, I at least wanted to make sense of myself. Since the end of my last relationship I've stopped trying to figure things out. Blazer thinks I'm more mature now, that I'm not as up and down, I'm steadier, calmer, less reactionary. I can see his point, but I think I have lost something in the process. It could be my idealism. I am still idealistic, I believe that there are happy endings, soul mates, and that some (not most) people find genuine happiness in this world. That's not what I've ever banked on, I believe there is another world, and we can't find what we really want anywhere else. But still, I believe God wants to give us the desires of our heart, namely himself, here on earth. I also believe that we see God most clearly through our relationships, especially marraige. I used to believe that I was one of those happy few who would find that kind of glimpse into God's heart through marraige. After all, I saw the world in a unique way...and I WANTED more than anyone I knew, and I believed God put those desires in me for a reason. I knew I would hold out for that storybook version of life...like Lloyd Dobbler I'd be able to say, "sure, no one thinks we'll make it, but that described every great success story." I was strong enough, determined enough, patient enough. I had faith, and needed nothing else. But now, after last year, I don't think I'm slated for that life. I don't think my heartache is unique, and I'm sure most of you have gone through more than I have. Even I admit that most people I know have had more difficult situations to wade through. They are true survivors. My story is original only to me. I haven't had poor health or traversed financial ruin. It's only my heart that has been trampled and beaten, my sense of worth taken blow after blow until I feel unwanted, undesirable. It's not just that I've been party to 4 broken relationships. Those wounds are deep, and undoubtably bleed still. I'm wounded by the hurt to myself, but also knowing how severely I've wounded these women of faith, those wounds hurt more still. I feel guilty, as if i should have known I was dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. Wound upon wound. But something else has been crushed too, something deeper, if possible than my hopes. I can't think of the word for what it is. Maybe it's my heart, the place out of which flows those things that matter most. What comes to mind are the lyrics from Les Mis, when Fantine is singing about what her life has become. "I dreamed a dream in times gone by, when hope was high and life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die, I dreamed that God would be forgiving. Then I was young, and unafraid, and dreams were made a used and wasted....but the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, as they tear your hope apart, and they turn you dream to shame....I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living, so different now, from what it seems...but life has killed the dream I dreamed." Assuredly, the lyrics are a little dramatic, and hyperbole abounds. Still, it seems to come close, especially the line about life killing the dream I dreamed. Now I doubt so much about myself. She didn't think I was good enough, and that's the truth. I think I always believed I had something to offer, but what hurt about this one was that I offered all that I could. It was even a perfect scenario for me to offer myself, and to offer myself a hundred times, showing my quality and character in the process. Even in offering, I was forced to bring out the best of who I am. Yet it fell short, the very deepest fear for a man to face. So I have stopped trying to figure any of it out, because once I'm in that maze, I'm not sure how I'll get out. I'm playing it safe now, in the shell but not reflecting. Aware of the mirror, but looking in it only long enough to see that I can go out in public. But I miss being reflective. Somehow I'm not really Webel if I'm not trying to find my way out of the maze.
3. I would resolve to be less afraid. No elaborate explanations this time. I would just like to be braver, to be less afraid of the what if's and less hounded by the possiblity that the deck of cards will tumble completely. Let it tumble, but let me live.

those would be my resolutions, if I made resolutions.

A Charlie Brown Christmas Tree

2006-11-30T13:04:00.000-06:00

I haven't been that lonely, which is surprising. My parents and I went, per tradition, to get our christmas tree on Friday after Thanksgiving. We've been going to this place for years, ever since I can remember. My childhood memories of the tree farm are just images: throwing a football with Corey and Aaron pretending the trees were defenders; the long drive down a winding gravel road just to find the place; arguing over which tree of the million was just the right one; taking turns with the saw so we all could say we cut it down; going to the 63 Diner afterwards and drinking real cherry coke. This year was the first year none of the siblings were there. We didn't bring a football to throw, and the drive to the tree farm didn't seem to take very long. The strangest part was that I remebered there being hundreds and hundreds of trees to pick from. They towered above us as children, snagging our clothes as we ran by. Now, as I walked onto the now well groomed landscape the space between the trees stretched for yards. Instead of a forest of beautiful christmas tress, now I saw less than fifty. There were acres of land, occupied by a handful of trees. It struck me that we were left picking from a small group of trees that we had already rejected in previous years. We had seen these trees before, and decided on another tree. In a way that made these trees dearer to me, because they were trees no one had wanted. I was convinced that each of these trees would make fine additions to our home, because if you looked at them the right way you'd see they had something great to offer. We ended up with a tree that I could look over the top of, with one only one presentable side. As we hunted for this unwanted treasure, I couldn't help but comment to my mother that this is what my search for a relationship feels like. Years ago, in colllege lets say, there are hundreds of potentials and the word Possibility rings with trumpet-like force. Now, years removed, it seems that there are fewer possibilities, and I'm left wondering if I'm searching in the right field, or if I need to move to Boston and start over. Mom asked me if this analogy would make it's way into my blog...

But, like I said, I haven't felt very lonely. Except now, after writing this, I can feel the doubts creep in. Quills has been dating for quite a few months, and he seems to be....at least based on what I read on her blog (especially his comments; she is surprisingly spartan with her references to him) a fantastic guy. I mean that sincerely, without any bitterness or negativity. He seems decent, honest, perceptive and kind. I think he is very good for her. In a few ways, I think he sounds like me. However, he's the physical specimen I never was or will be, which really does fit her. She had me beat in that department. I truly wish them the best, and can even pray for them towards that end.

Webel Kids Plus One

2006-11-22T12:30:00.000-06:00

You've always heard that Central Park in Autumn is beautiful, but you wonder if it can live up to the hype. Truth be told, it exceeds the rumor. I wish I had been more able to enjoy it (or countless other things of beauty), but I found myself distracted.

These are my siblings, Corey (and his wife Melissa), Debbie, and Aaron. They are all amazing, and I find them awe-inspiring. I have a good family. We don't talk every day or even every week, but I'm still unashamed to say that I love them dearly.

average guy

2006-11-19T00:00:00.000-06:00

Rachel is a good friend to me right now. She knows things are hard for me, that I've lost my way, and she wants to help. She hangs out with me on weekends, which usually means we go to a movie or something else non-threatening. Her boyfriend is in New York, so she needs a safe friend too. Lately I feel like she sort of borders on tears when she asks me how I'm doing.

Tonight we watched Stranger Than Fiction, which I thought was very good. It's not thematically different than your typical underdog story, but it did have some unique elements that gave me pause. In essence, it's a story about a very average guy, unsatisfied with life, but so buried under the routine of his daily life that he doesn't even know he's miserable. Then an alarm clock rings, and he wakes up to his uninspired life, and sets about changing. It's a good movie. It made me miss Elisa...she not only resembles maggie gyllenhaal, but the character in the movie reminded me of her too. I was like the normal guy, kind of boring...and she was this full of life, strange but wonderful and exotic flower that brought excitment and unpredictability to his life. She was like coming up for air, the thing that helped him find his way back to the life he knew he wanted. It's still hard, the seconds that I let myself think about it are still marked by confusion. I'm not sure what to think, and I have no idea what to do. It's as if the only color I can see is gray.

a lighter note

2006-11-14T22:23:00.000-06:00

The weekend was hectic and I got stuck in a Philly airport for 11 hours...I'm exhausted and coughing violently every 10 minutes or so, but I'm going to follow the example of a couple of my students today. They decided that they wouldn't complain about anything all day. I talked to them around 9am, and they had already found the task more than challenging. So I'm going to tell you a story about a goat.

My family stayed at a Bed 'n Breakfast place in the middle of Amish country PA this past weekend. When I say Bed 'n Breakfast, I mean a fully functional dairy farm. It smelled very bad. Yes, I milked a cow. The teat is suprisingly warm, which is really quite disgusting. I also played with 8 farm cats and watched a donkey (chained to a tree) give chase to my sister and send her scrambling. Tied to a fence post was a cute little brown goat. My sister convinced me that goats were like dogs, friendly and calm and such. Armed with this knowledge I approached the goat respectfully, but hopeful that we would fast become best pals. I leaned over the fence and began petting the curious goat's head. He seemed happy for the attention. Just when I thought we were becoming buddies, a jolt of electricity coursed into my arm, across my chest, down my other arm, and into the goat's head. Yes, my friends, the fence was an electric fence, a fact the goat no doubt knew from previous experience. I on the other hand, remained ignorant of this important detail. Needless to say, the goat jumped a few inches in the air, and glared at me from the length of his rope. I don't make a habit of electricuting myself, let alone a goat in the process, but i'd say this was a substantial level of electric current that left quite a sting...and a pretty funny story.

Al Gore and Global Climate Change

2006-11-08T22:40:00.000-06:00

This year I co-sponsor a club called Global Issues. The name of the club says it all. Every Wednesday night for one hour students gather in my classroom and we discuss issues facing our world. We then attempt to do something about it.

For the time being we have fixed our attention on Global Climate Change. It wasn't my first choice, and I don't think it was really the kids first choice either, but a few opportunities emerged and we shrugged our shoulders and said, "Sure...what could be more appropriate for a club about global issues than global warming?"

For the past month we've been promoting a community showing of Al Gore's film, An Inconvenient Truth (http://www.climatecrisis.net/). Tonight was the showing, and over 500 people showed up. I bet that over 200 of them were students, many of them from Rock Bridge. I was proud of them, and optimistic about our future because of their interest. Being primarily conservative politically, I have not thought much about the potential of global warming, but I've really learned a lot about it lately. I used to doubt whether it was happening at all. I don't really doubt it anymore. I claim no expertise, but it seems pretty obvious to me that the world is hurting, temperatures are rising, ice caps are melting, sea levels are rising, storms are both more frequent and stronger in intensity... and that signs point to human activity as the antecedent. Even if our contribution is overstated, it still makes sense to take the high road and try to do something to help. I'm going to try to do something to help.

The night was beautiful, 64 degrees. I walked to my car feeling as if I were embarking on a quest. I couldn't help it, the nagging feeling that I was on the quest alone infiltrated my mind. I couldn't shake it, and I felt sad. Are all the journey's going to be one's I take alone? Will I ever be joined by another?

It's been a busy week, and I've felt overwhelmed for most of it. My responsibilities at school have spread well beyond classroom instruction. For example, tomorrow I'm going to attend the school play (Fiddler on the Roof) because if I don't see it tomorrow, I won't be able to see it at all (my family is going to New York City Friday through Monday). And if I don't see it, I'll let down about 10 kids who asked me to come. Don't get me wrong, I WANT to go, but I also want to get to sleep before midnight at least one day this week.

Before I go to bed tonight I get to read chapters 5-7 in The Kite Runner because it's what I'm teaching tomorrow.

a silly metaphor

2006-10-30T21:28:00.000-06:00

The basketball games I just played with my roommate and two of his friends is a perfect metaphor for my entire life. I'd tell you about it but I can't take the thought of you laughing at me, and I don't know if I can really put it into words, because somehow that might make it real. I don't want it to be real.

Things I Want

2006-10-17T22:40:00.000-06:00

I want someone to look at me and say, "I believe in you...with every cell in my body, I believe in you."

I want someone to say, "No one in the world can do what you can do. No one else can do the job you do. Of you, Matt Webel, I am most proud."

I want to hear someone say, "You...are...a...Man."

I want to believe in (yes, I'm going to say it) storybook endings full of valient knights, rescued princesses, and dragons vanquished.

There has to be a Plan. I mean, doesn't there? Not one that automatically transpires, necessarily, but still, a Plan that will unfold the way it's supposed to according to an author that is definitely not me.

I am not going to give up. My knee jerk reaction is to feel sorry for myself, to blame the entire world for my circumstances. I really thought that the last girl was the last girl. For the last 9 months or so I've cycled through so many emotions, from sadness to confusion, then frustration. I've settled, for months now, on a sort of defensiveness. It's like I anticipate the next hit coming from any direction, so I'm constantly braced, emotionally, to recieve the blow. Part of me takes it as a challenge, to see if I can withstand all the hits. I sometiems feel that it's a test of my ability to stand back up one more time. I've separated myself from my friends, my family even. Not because I want to at all, in fact, what I want is to have friends, to have healthy relationships, to laugh and have hope. I'm just having trouble finding the energy, because all of that seems like it takes more work than I can muster. The risk/reward doesn't seem balanced. I feel burned, wrecked, damaged. I feel not worth the trouble.

I don't believe I'm being punished, or that I've done something horribly wrong and thus deserve my fate. I'm not sure I'll ever find out the reason why I have all these desires that seem constantly thwarted. Eldredge thinks that God must thwart us to save us, and maybe there is something truthful in that notion. Maybe all my desires need thwarting. Even if that's the case, most days I think it still sucks.

But enough of that. I'm through. I'm done with blaming everything. I won't resign myself to settling for less, or for a life of mediocrity and anonymity. That's not what He died to give me. He gives me Life, and I won't take that for granted, or lightly.

I'd like to think these thoughts, this nights, is a corner turned, but I fear tomorrow I'll feel defeated again. Like all the best decisions, I suspect I'll have to make this one each and every day. I don't want to live in fear anymore. I don't want to try and protect myself from all the arrows and cliffs. I want to sprint through this life, my heart full, my eyes clear, my purpose before me and a sense of quiet confidence pushing forward. I can make a difference, if its just in the life of a single kid in one of my classes tomorrow, it matters. It IS important. I can live with that. I can live for that. I won't have to hang my head, or feel shame. If I boast, I boast not in myself.

To live is Christ. Help me keep that thought ever before me, because that thought alone, if I could capture it, would change the way I lived every second of my life.

down the winding path

2006-10-15T22:32:00.000-06:00

Rough couple of days. Here are the superficial contributors:
1. The Tigers lost. When I say they lost, I mean that they gave the game away on the 1 yard line.
2. The Cards got killed Sunday night. Other words that come to mind: pulverized, demolished, pounded, annihilated, beaten to a bloody pulp.
3. I played music in yet another wedding that was not my own.

If I go a bit further into my psyche, which I am unlikely to do these days, I'd say that on a more alarming level, I'm just screwed up. I don't really know what I'm hoping for anymore. I could give Sunday School answers, and in theory they might be true, but in the here and now I've sort of given up on some of the things that I've always thought I wanted in life. When I say "some things" I mean getting married. By extension, I suppose having kids is something I wanted, but didn't really think much about until this weekend when Blazer plunked his daughter in my lap and I played with her for half an hour. This is miraculous on at least two levels;
1. I've never held a baby before and am basically afraid of breaking them.
2. I am amazed at the idea that new life can be brought into the world, and I was holding a piece of that new life on Saturday. She was amazing, flat out, hands down, fantastic. A whole little person, holding my finger with her entire hand and trying to stick it in her mouth. How crazy is that?

Talking to Blazer, and Proffitt also, I come across as indifferent. It's a fragile mask for an anger that I harbor, not towards any person, but towards God. And that anger is a very thin sheet of ice that hides a very deep sadness that I feel. I'm afraid for myself, I'm afraid that the entire lake might freeze over, and all I'll be is bitter. I'm deathly afraid that I'm starting to shut my true self off from the world, walling my heart in one brick at a time.

When I think about it for even 10 minutes I get angry...because I don't let myself feel sad.

But I don't like feeling angry or sad. So I'm only allowed to dwell on this crappola for about 4 minutes, which lets me keep it on a theoretical level. Amen.

I like this picture of me because I think I look hard. I'm Power Webel, impervious to the world.

another thing

2006-09-27T00:39:00.000-06:00

Hello. As of 1 day, 1 hour, and 35 minutes ago I am 29 years old. How janked is that?

the jungle

2006-09-23T18:47:00.000-06:00

The background of my computer right now is a picture I took at the Bronx Zoo in early August. It's been the background of my computer for almost 2 months now. It's a photo of a tiger, walking towards me. A picture may be worth a thousand words but it pales in comparison to actually being in the presence.

I always fall for tigers. I mean, I gravitate towards them. They are amazing. Dangerous, graceful, independent, unpredictable, powerful, breath-stealingly haunting. If you asked me what kind of pet I really want, I wouldn't pick a dog. I wouldn't pick a fish, a gerbil, a ferret, or a pig. I wouldn't even pick a monkey, although Marcel was kind of the man, so to speak. I would pick a tiger. I don't mean an old, docile, all-the-life-has-been-beaten-out-of-me tiger either. A tiger in it's prime.

That probably makes no sense. Maybe it makes me crazy. I want to have a tiger, but not end up killed. In my head it seems that the tiger could decide not to kill me. It could decide that it likes me. It may hate the entire world and demolish everything and everyone else out there, but by some miracle I would be the exception.

Important questions to answer:
1. Am I crazy?
2. Are there such things as tigers, or all we all kitties?
3. If there are tigers, am I one? I'm watching Grey's, and I am starting to think that I'm more like George than anyone else, and he doesn't seem to be a tiger. In fact, right now he's getting shredded by a tiger.
4. Can two tigers work together, or does one of them need to be a bear or something? Or a lamb? The latter, on the surface, seems a bad combo. But then there is that whole verse about a new heaven and a new earth...
5. How do you really know if the tiger likes you?
6. Why did I pass on an opportunity this week to sit down with a tiger?

No Where to Turn

2006-09-03T10:33:00.000-06:00

"In words which can still bring tears to my eyes, St. Augustine describes the desolation in which the death of his friend Nebridius plunged him. Then he draws a moral. This is what comes, he says, of giving one's heart to anything but God. All human beings pass away. Do not let your hapiness depend on something you may lose. If love is to be a blessing, not a misery, it must be for the only Beloved who will never pass away.

Or course, this is excellent sense. Don't put your goods in a leaky vessel. Don't spend too much on a house you may be turned out of. And there is no man alive who responds more naturally than I do to such canny maxims. I am a safety-first creature. Of all arguments against love none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as "Careful! This might lead you to suffering."

To my nature, my temperment, yes. Not to my conscience. When I respond to that appeal I seem to myself to be a thousand miles away from Christ. If I am sure of anything I am sure that His teaching was never meant to confirm my congenital preference for safe investments and limited liabilities. I doubt whether there is anything in me that pleases Him less. And who could conceivably begin to love God on such a prudential ground--because the security (so to speak) is better? Who could even include it among the grounds for loving? Would you choose a wife or a Friend--if it comes to that, would you choose a dog--in this spirit? One must be outside the world of love, of all loves, before one thus calculates. Eros, lawless Eros, preferring the Beloved to happiness, is more like Love himself than this.

I think that this passage in Confessions is less a part of Augustine's Christendom than a hangover from the high-minded Pagan philosophies in which he grew up. It is closer to Stoic "apathy" or neo-Platonic mysticism than to charity. We follow one who wept over Jerusalem and at the grave of Lazarus, and, loving all, yet had one disciple whom, in a special sense, he "loved." St. Paul has a higher authority with us than Augustine--St. Paul who shows no sign that he would not have suffered like a man, and no feeling that he ought not so to have suffered, if Epaphroditus had died (Phil. 2:27).

Even if it were granted that insurances against heartbreak were our highest wisdom, does God Himself offer them? Apparantly not. Christ comes at last to say "Why hast thou forsaken me?"

There is no escape alone the lines St. Augustine suggests. Nor along any other lines. There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, inpenetrable, irredeemable. The alterantive to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

I believe tha the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to God's will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness. Christ did not teach and suffer that we might become, even in the natural loves, more careful of our own happiness. If a man is not uncalculating towards the earthly beloveds whom he has seen, he is none the more likely to be so towards God whom he has not. We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they break, so be it.

It remains certainly true that all natural loves can be inordinate. Inordinate does not mean "insufficiently cautious." Nor does it mean "too big." It is not a quantitative term. It is probably impossible to love any human being simply "too much." We may love him too much in proportion to our love for God; but it is the smallness of our love for God, not the greatness of our love for the man, that constitutes the inordinacy. But even this must be refined upon. Otherwise we shall trouble some who are very much on the right road but alarmed beacuse they cannot feel towards God so warm a sensible emotion as they feel for the earthly Beloved. It is much to be wished--at least I think so--that we all, at all times, could. We must pray that this gift should be given us. But the question whether we are loving God or the earthly Beloved "more" is not, so far as concerns our Christian duty, a question about the comparative intensity of the two feelings. The real question is, which (when the alternative comes) do you serve, or choose, to put first? To which claim does your will, in the last resport, yeild?

Normally I wouldn't put a passage of such length on my blog. I ran across a book I read a long time ago, and next to this passage I wrote "Best section so far." Naturally curious about what I thought was the "Best section so far" 10 years ago, I read it again.

Before we go any further, this post is about me, no one else. I promise, Minsty.

When I consider myself idealistic, it is in the spirit of this passage. I have been terribly wounded and hurt by love--by Eros, as CS Lewis calls it. In some ways I've probably made Eros into a little god, placing hopes and dreams at it's feet, offering prayers and metaphorical sacrifices in the hopes that I will be swept into a great earthly love. I used to beat myself up for even having that desire, because it smacks of idolatry. I would do well to caution myself against that temptation. Eros speaks the language so passionately! We use words like "always" and "forever." We promise to our potential lovers ridiculous things, sincerely, using sweet words of deepest desire. If raised to the highest of loves, Eros will consume and fail me. In a marraige, or a relationship, where Eros has been idolized inevitably comes disappointment. For the mere feeling will not suffice. The lovers are left disappointed, and they either blame Eros for "lying to them" or each other for failing to live up to the expectations of love. Lewis basically says that Eros made grand claims, but we are the ones who must keep them. "We must do the work of Eros when Eros is not present." And we know that this work can only be carried out with humility, charity and divine grace. I have a lot to learn in this regard. I think I'm realizing more and more every year that I've failed each of the girls I've dated in terms of what I've promised--either explicitely or implicitely through my actions. I am so truly sorry. If you can, forgive me.

The trick isn't to abandon romantic love, but to realize that in order for it to live up to any of it's lofty claims, it has to be superceeded by a greater love--a love that Lewis calls Charity and modern Christians call Unconditional Love. With the "help" of this kind of love, and under it's obedience, Eros can thrive. Romantic love is not the enemy, nor should it be tamed...but it needs help to live up to the desires it awakens within us.

I want to love, not carefully, but adamantly. Manning would probably use the word "ruthlessly." The truth is that I cannot protect myself from pain. I could choose to not love anything, but that is soul suicide. To be the knight, to be what my heart wants me to be, I MUST continue to love, despite the cost to my heart. I used to think that I would wait and wait, and then finally risk loving, and then love fully, with every ounce of my being....and I could let myself do that because I could trust God to protect me from getting hurt. I used to think that he would be the safety net, protecting me from gut-wrenching, wailing heartache. But I think I was naieve. God doesn't promise to spare us heartache, in fact, He assure us that "in this world we will have troubles." And if it ended there, I might toss in the towel on this whole Christianity thing. But the verse goes continues, "But take heart, I have overcome the world."

TAKE HEART.

So I will continue to love, or try my best. Have I lost pieces of my heart along the way? Have the wounds made my heart callous, inpenatrable, and "safe?" Honestly, I worry about that sometimes. I get this image of a man burying his treasure under six feet of concrete in an effort to insulate it from injury. There have been moments in my life when I know that I've done just that. But the analogy is eerily similar to a funeral, and I don't want to kill my heart. So I dig it out again and embrace the pain, offer it to Christ as a part of myself.

No one else can kill my heart. No amount of pain inflicted can destroy it. Hearts can't be killed from the outside, only from within. My heart can die--if I decide to kill it; if I decide it's safer for my heart to be dead than to live and risk further injury. I sometimes think it seems like the smart thing to do--smart because it means the pain won't hurt as much anymore. I don't want to lose heart, I don't want to give up, I don't want to be dead! If any of those statements are true, I also need to be able to say, "I don't want to be safe." Buried in the concrete, I will be beyond feeling pain, yes. But I will also be beyond feeling joy, hope, forgiveness, and love. It is too steep a price. I choose life.

Remember, heart, your First Love. The Love that makes all our Loves possible (We love because He first loved us). Love Him ruthlessly.

"Is he...quite safe?" Susan asked.

Mrs. Beaver replied, "If there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking they're either braver than most or else just silly. No, he's not safe, but he's good."

10 years

2006-08-30T21:10:00.000-06:00

apparently this is what I looked like 10 years ago, posing before my senior prom.

My high school reunion is coming up in a few weeks, I think. I can't decide how I'll feel about telling my former classmates that I now teach at the school we graduated from. I wonder who will come, if I'll recognize them. I've been reading old journals today (one of the advantages of housesitting is an abundance of time to kill), and wondering if I've changed much at all from the 18 year old in this picture. I wish I could find my pictures from prom. This one came from my old friend Minku who found my on MySpace. Incidentally, by far my favorite part of MySpace is having old friends find me.

I've been reading through my 2004 journal today. I miss 2004. I miss a lot of things today.

Getting Back

2006-08-25T23:28:00.000-06:00

I feel like I'm getting back my soul, returning to my roots, remembering who I am. I'm listening to my heart again, and while it's painful, I believe its better than the alternative. I am scared, though, of what might happen.

If I could summarize my personal fear, it's always a fear of "what might happen." That's a difficult fear to battle, even more difficult to conquer. Do you think we can every really conquer fear anyway?

I started watching Grey's Anatomy, and found myself wishing I was doing something more significant with my life. i.e. saving people's lives. I started to down the road of disappointment, but then started to wonder if saving lives is exactly what I am trying to do every day in the classroom.

I realized that I was excited for the first day of school, and that was a promising thought--it means I love what I do. Of all the misfortunes I can list in my life, I can at least point to my opportunity to teach at RB as an undeserved blessing. My family, they are also a blessing. Knowing and counting people like Fabbio, Blazer, Chocolate and Dorr...that's a blessing, too.

Even thought the family portrayed by 1950s television was a myth, I find myself wishing such families could exist. does that mean I'm twisted?

Words of Wisdom from Blazer

2006-07-29T20:48:00.000-06:00

Blazer said something powerful on the phone to me yesterday. I don't exactly recall the context in which this phrase was born, but we we talking about my current raw bitterness, my confusion at life and circumstance. It's frustrating to "know all the answers" and be able to give them to others at the drop of a hat. But when it comes to myself, I'm just not sure I can buy into them anymore. At least not at this juncture.

Back to the point, least I get too personal. Blazer said, at some point, "It's a question of who you are." And then he said something like, "All issues in life boil down to that question: Who are you?" It's about identity. This is something I've known for a long time now, but needed to be reminded of. Every choice, every fork in the road stares at me with that single question, "Who are you." And what I decide reveals my identity. It's a terrifying thought. It's terrible to bear that responsibilty. It's easier....well, just about any question is easier that THAT one.

This is perhaps the 8th random Blazer phrase that I've stolen, unashamedly, over the years. I'm sure you can all relate.

My Sadness over America

2006-07-08T14:58:00.000-06:00

Can someone please explain to me the overwhelming popularity of the Pirate movies? I think they're alright...and the latest was, in some ways, entertaining. But is it really that much better than Superman?

My Best Day

2006-06-17T23:11:00.000-06:00

Today my brother Corey Webel married Melissa Bohon. Somehow I was given the honor of being the best man. The wedding was amazing and personal, and also included (not surprisingly) the best collection of musical talent I'll ever see in a wedding. Melissa's brother sang a duet with her maid of honor ("In Whatever Time We Have") and his friend Chris and one of the other bridesmaids sang a song called "The Prayer." I've never heard better in my life. And I've seen Les Mis and Wicked and Rascal Flatts and Boyz II Men.

I have so many thoughts. As I drove home tonight I came close to breaking down. But I wasn't sad. Sad things don't really make me cry. Moments make me cry. Like the moment when you see someone put all of their effort into something and they accomplish it. Or when someone finally succeeds after years of thwarted effort. Tonight I was just so proud of Corey, because he's done it Right. I've been able to watch him grow into this amazing man...and I know him, he's not just someone I've heard about, but I actually know him. And I can attest to his heart, character, and love for Melissa. I had a front row seat during the wedding, and I've never seen anyone with more love in her eyes and on her face than Melissa had for Corey as she spoke her vows. It was unashamed, bold, and vulnerable. It was the picture of the perfect Gift.

In the program this is what he wrote about me. It's hard for me to believe any of it is true, my fingers shake as I type:

"My older brother and fellow Rock Bridge teacher, Matt possessess a unique perspective on life that has taught me volumes about the kind of man I want to be. It has been my priviledge to watch him be the frist of us to face so many of life's challenges, which he has done with our father's combination of strength, vulnerability and faith. Although I will be the first to experience this current adventure, I am extremely honored to have my brother, role model, and friend here at my side on this most special day."

I can't even begin to tell you what I feel right now.

I loved being able to give my best man's toast. Here is a relatively close version, without the inflections and pauses:
"There is this great Chinese Restaurant we go to in town, and this old Chinese lady there is a veritable fount of proverbial wisdom. She found out Corey was getting married and asked if he was the oldest brother. Aparently in Chinese culture it's bad luck for the younger brother to marry before the older brother. Well, I didn't want him to carry such a dark cloud of bad luck over his head...so I actually got married this afternoon. I think her name was Monica. Don’t worry mom, you’ll love her. I really wish you all could have been there, it was great.

I met Corey 26 years ago when he came out of mom. That's a pretty weird thing when you think about it. As the older brother I've had several jobs over the years. The first job was taking care of Corey. I used to zip his zipper up before school to make sure he was okay. No, the zipper on his COAT. But I'd zip any of his zippers if it came to that. You never really lose that job, the job of protecting. Then a new phase came, that phase were you’re competitive, where you can play 100 games of ping pong in the basement to see which brother can win. But as you grow older that need to win subsides, and it is replaced by a desire to see your siblings do well. To see them succeed at everything they do, to follow your footsteps and then surpass them. He can do everything. I mean that, he fishes, he cooks, he writes music. Teaching with him at Rock Bridge the last three years, I’ve talked to so many students who love him, who will always remember him as the best teacher they every had. And I get to claim association with him. Best of all I've seen him grow into the man you see before you. He is gracious, kind, patient, wise, and he has perspective. But more than all that the thing that strikes me about him is that he is unafraid. I'm afraid of everything...but not him. He's not scared to take risks, try something new, even at the risk of looking foolish. As I look at him, and the man he IS, I get this strange feeling that I’ve seen this kind of person before. Because the longer I look, and the more time that passes, when I look at Corey I see my dad. That is the greatest compliment I can give you. Of all the days I’ve been proud of him, on this day I am the most proud.

Dated before, in high school, way back in 1998. But they were young, and they went their separate ways…

The family went out to see Melissa last Fall, we went to watch her play Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables in Philadelphia. She and Corey were had reconnected, they had started talking again, but the hadn’t really figured out what it all meant yet. I hadn’t seen Melissa in a long time, so I was there, again filling my big brother role of protecting, assessing. And she was amazing. Such passion, such talent, such energy. Frankly I don’t know where she gets all that energy from. While talent is remarkable, it is wasted if the person lacks character. Before that show in Philadelphia Melissa came out to dinner with us. Towards the end she want to the restroom, and she came back with a new friend. In the restroom she had run into a little girl and her mother, and somehow they started talking, and it turns out they were going to watch the show that night. Of course, this little girl was star struck, because she was standing face to face with Anne Shirley. And in that moment, Melissa made that little girl’s night. I mean, that girl was beaming. Because Melissa isn’t just talented, she’s so down to earth, so humble, so “real.” She has this infectious smile, and unbridled joy at seemingly everything. When she is there, I am a little happier, I laugh a little harder, and I feel that some of her joy has rubbed off on me. How can one person do all of that? I wish you all could have stood where I stood today, I had the best seat in the house. Corey, I saw her eyes when she said her vows, and brother, that girl loves you. And Melissa, I want you to know that I've never seen him happier. Aaron and I were talking a little while ago that he is more himself when he is around you, and that is a rare thing.

If you had told me that two such people could exist, that they would find each other seven years after they first dated, and end up falling in love all over again, and falling in love this completely, I don’t know that I would believe you. All of this has a certain ring about it, it reminds me of those stories that start, “Once upon a time…” It has the ring of a fairy tale.

I am a romantic, I have always believed in the fairy tale ending. The world tries to beat it out of us, to make us settle and give up. But then I see Corey and Melissa, and I see the fairy tale. But fairy tales don’t happen by accident, because we serve a God who’s in the business of stories that are too good to be true. Stories of a love that is based on sacrifice. Their story is a testimony to their patience, their faithfulness to God, and his plan being greater than ours.

Thank you for this day, for reminding me that fairy tales do exist. I love you both.

Please raise a glass with me and toast:
To Corey and Melissa...to selfless love...to a whole gang of little Webel babies running wild making a couple of grandparents very happy...to fairy tales come true….and to the Faithfulness of God. Cheers."

The Question

2006-06-14T01:03:00.000-06:00

Dear Blog Friends,
The question for this evening, after watching another 5 episodes of Dawson's with Debbie, is as follows:

Are you happy?

I like asking the tough ones...it's what i do. I admit that it might not be the best of questions. Christians tend to downplay the word happy as trite or missing the point. "Who cares if you're happy, there is more to life than being happy in the moment." We like to use words like content, fulfilled, and satisfied. That's because we see more than momentary happiness, we look at the eternal perspective. Happiness is a fleeting emotion, we say, it cannot be the measure of a life well lived. Of course, the non-Christian world uses the question, "Are you happy" as the chief criteria for whether someone has "made it" or not. An affirmative answer to that single question can trump anything bad in your life. Consequently, it is what the world (i.e. everyone) is trying so deparately to capture: happiness.

That is why, despite the arguments to the contrary, I think it's an outstanding question. Thus it stands, staring us directly in the face: Are you happy? Really, truly happy with your life--right now as you read this. Are you happy with who you are, where you are, what you're doing?

I really want to know.

Dawson

2006-06-13T00:10:00.000-06:00

For those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise. Tonight my sister and I renewed one of my favorite traditions. We began watching the sixth, and final, season of Dawson's Creek. It's the end, and it's wonderful and bittersweet. It's kind of our thing, and she's home from Texas for Corey's upcoming wedding, and we managed to watch the first eight episodes tonight. Don't even think of telling me how the show ends--through extreme vigilance and some rude exclaimations I've managed to remain ignorant of who ends up together, and I operate the false hope that things will turn out the way I want them to. Because that's the way the real world works....i know, right?

I drove back to my place, my world filled with thoughts and their echoes. It's a silly tv show, but something about watching it, being at my parents house, walking out under the stars, shooting a few buckets by myself and smelling the country air...I felt like I was in high school again, the world untainted and full of one of the best words in the world: Possibility.

I thought about writing about it here, cementing all the thoughts with words and tossing them out into the world like pebbles, hoping the radiating circles would resonate with some other soul. After I'd journaled for a few years, I reflected on the practice, and I realized that the only person who would ever want to read my journals, besides a more mature version of myself, would be my wife. I still think the thought holds true, and it creates two feelings inside of me. I feel extremely alone, and at the same time I still feel the ache of hope. It occured to me tonight on the way home that I've never really been picked. I mean, that's what I want, and probably what we all want. I want to be seen as I really am, no pretense of perfection, with no embellishment and nothing held back. And I want the person to really pick me, out of all the people out there to say that I am the one they want. But it has to be for the right reasons, not because I picked them first or because they were scared or tired or desparate. We can always tell, somehow, when it's for the wrong reasons.

I kind of don't think it can happen anymore, or at least if it was going to happen it would have already. Please don't feel sorry for me, or try and convince me otherwise, I'm not without hope, just without a vision of how what I long for can actually happen. But that's okay, I think. I think I've let go of trying to figure any of it out. Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you that when I try, I just end up hurting everyone. In fact, they'll probably tell you to stay away, because I leave only destroyed hearts and broken promises. If you ask the right people, they'll tell you I'm decietful and that I don't understand love. Judging from my track record, you'd have to agree with them. I think a couple of my guy friends would defend me, but not unequivocally, and probably out of a sense of duty rather than endorsement. I don't even pretend to defend myself, and if I think about it long enough I see my relational history as a long line of failures on my part to be the kind of person I hope that I can be. I am not strong enough to be that man.

I'm not happy about any of it. The thing I hate more than anything is hurting people, in fact I spend most of my time trying to avoid hurting anyone, disdaining the cost. But, it seems that I, like the Dark Pheonix, perhaps, cannot manage to avoid it. Somehow I screwed things up with an ex-co worker so badly that she didn't invite me to her wedding. I really liked her too, I respected her and enjoyed her friendship. I tried to call her months and months ago, and she didn't return my call. I don't even know what I did to her. We never even came close to dating, and I still ruined everything. And that's only the tip of the iceberg. Be warned, I am a disaster.

Am I hoping for forgiveness, or absolution...or validation? I think I'm still hoping that someone out there will be able to read all of this, or better, to know the real version of me, the unfiltered me. I used to have this image in my head of what that would be like. The scene looks something like an interrogation room, and for some reason I've been broken, and I can't hide anything from the interrogator. Instead I'm weeping, revealing all, and I'm without hope or pride. And I'm certain that when I look up I'll be alone, because who in their right mind would really want me if having me meant accepting all of that? Who of their own free volition would want that? In my heart, though, I have this desparate hope that after all has been revealed I would look up, and I would see that someone has stayed. That I couldn't scare them away. My hope is that I would look up and realize that I have been picked. That someone out there could actually look at me and say without embarrassment or shame, "He's the one I want." And they wouldn't be worried to introduce me to their parents, or friends, or wish I looked differently, or worked out more, or wore different clothes. The would actually like ME. This, of course, only means that I'm just like every other human being out there. But, unlike almost all of my friends, I remain unpicked. Inside I secretly fear that I'm unpickable. Shhhh...don't tell anyone.

So although it seems like I've said something with these words, I really haven't. Nothing I've said is unique, it's the collective cry of humanity, this is just my version of it. Tonight, instead of elaborating on that cry here, I'm going to write in my real journal, not this arena that has the illusion of fellowship but cannot reach me the way I want. It will go into that collection of words that no one in the world will ever want to read, no one except one.

Until then,
MRW
PS--I feel bad writing all of this, because I think it reveals my spritual weakness. I know that I have been picked, by One who is greater, and I am known by name and wanted. I know that I belong and that I have a Home, and that the end to this story is a happy one. I know all the verses, and I even believe them. I'm just tired. Inside, I mean. Is there anything harder in this world than waiting?

Cars

2006-06-10T21:00:00.000-06:00

Sometimes predictable movies are perfect because they are predictable. I saw Cars tonight. It looked interesting from the previews, and it was a solid blend of cute, poignant, nostalgic, and encouraging. The prototypical "feel good" movie where the hero proves that winning isn't everything. It reminds you of the way that things should be. But that's why it's a movie, because the real world doesn't match up with they way our hearts say things should be. That's why I've learned to see the stories we create as revealing more than the way the world really is. The real world is harsh, cut-throat, unmerciful. Kill or be killed, compete and win at all costs. But in our hearts, and in the stories we create out of our hearts, we celebrate a different way.

It was an interesting crowd. Isn't it great to see movies on opening weekend, because you end up watching with people who are genuinely excited. For comedies they laugh with more enthusiasm...and they cheer, and when the movie ends they applause. There was this great guy tonight sitting on the right aisle, up front, and he just laughed at everything. I mean, the laugh rang out clear as a bell, but he wasn't shy about it. It wasn't excessive enough to be annoying, but just enough to be infectious.

A strange desire came over me at the end of the movie. I found myself really wanting a family. I've never really wanted a family specifically before. Often I've wanted, or at least wondered about, marraige. But I've never felt the desire for a family, the whole group operating as a unit. It was a very natural, very human, and very accute desire. It surprised me.

And it made me sad. I don't even know why. Maybe because it seems so far away from me.

I've never really wanted to be a car before, but don't you sort of think it holds a certain appeal?

"The Praxis"

2006-06-10T16:43:00.000-06:00

Two dreaded words to all prospective teachers. But, you say, You're already a teacher. Yes, but not officially. I am still, and seemingly forever, embroiled in a quest to earn permanent certification. Certification to teach is a very important thing to have, and it's fairly easy to procure...If you follow the traditional route. Myself, being inherently adverse to the status quo, have taken the round-about way towards obtaining certification.

Thus I find myself a veteran of three years of teaching experience, but still needing to take two tests to test my capacity to teach. I took both of these tests today.

Test 1: English Literature, Language, and Composition. This test will determine whether I understand the content I'm supposed to teach. Of the 120 questions, there were 19 that I basically guessed on. Does that seem like a lot? The level of specificity was unbelievable. I am not sure how much I can reveal on a blog about a top secret test, so I'll resist my desire to detail just how specific it was. Suffice it to say that I needed to be able to identify specific quotes by character from various plays, most of which I had not read. Let me tell you, it's very humbling to be forced to literally guess among four plausible choices on a test that covers material you A. Majored in and B. Have taught for the last three years. I did get one question correct because I taught the Great Gatsby last year. So my teaching experience counted for something.

Test Two measured my knowledge of teaching. This would ensure that I knew what I was doing in the classroom. This test was 24 mult choice and 12, count them TWELVE, short answer essays. As I took the test I was reminded, with fresh sympathy, of my AP students who took a merciless AP test in the spring. On this test I relied mostly on my experience and common sense. I wasted no time, but still found myself with 6 essays to write with only 45 minutes left. I finished, barely...But could have used another 15 minutes. My head hurts, my writing hand hurts....But, I'm finished.

And in 4 weeks (unless I write ETS and request that they throw away my test), I'll get the results. And then I'll be able to tell all of you if I am actually qualified to teach.

Which raises an interesting question: How much weight should a test like this be given in determining teaching potential or competence.

Completely random question? Does anyone else google their own name only to find that they are the only themself out there?

the next step

2006-04-15T21:15:00.000-06:00

Renting has been fun...but something in the back of my mind has been whispering for the last few years. Finally, I've let myself surrender to the impulse, and I'm actively investigating buying my own house.

It's a nerve-wracking process.

First, there are so many options for getting a loan that I can't even keep them straight. 20-year fixed, 15 year, variable rates...Second, how much money can I put towards a downpayment? That in itself is a headache. What makes it worse is the realization that I've paid almost 4 grand this year to take graduate classes just to maintain my teaching certification. That's right, I'm not even getting my Master's degree out of this. I'm barely managing to stay certified. Even this summer, I'm trying to find the right class, and so far, no luck.

Third, I'm realizing that within my price range, I can't really get the kind of house I want to get. It's discouraging. I have a full time job that I've worked at for three years, and I can't even afford a decent house in Columbia. I mean, I don't think I can get approved for the loan. So I'm left trying to decide if I should just get a "crappy" house in a questionable neighborhood, or if I should opt for a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom condo. I can probably afford a condo like that, but for some reason I don't really want to commit to living in a condo for the near future.

Right now it all seems too complicated. I'm reminded of my tendency to want to understand every aspect of the process through and through before I make any decisions. It really hampers the speed with which I make big decisions...but once prepared, I usually feel confident in what is decided.

There is this really great house I found. It's in a good location, close to RB, but it costs more than the lender said I could qualify for. And it's not an amazing house, it's just normal. I wonder if I can shop around and find some mortgage company that will give me a better loan. But do I really want to pay half of my salary on a housepayment?

From the moment I woke up this morning I've been thinking about all of this. I drove around town for two hours looking at houses that I marked on a map of Columbia. Corey is going to be able to sell his two bedroom condo for much more than he bought it three years ago, which gives me hope. But interest rates were much lower three years ago, and the same loan that cost him 450/month will cost me 650/month. Doesn't seem fair, does it?

It's hard to believe that tomorrow is Easter.

Vegas, Baby...Vegas

2006-03-30T16:26:00.000-06:00

Five months ago I would never have believed that I'd find myself in Las Vegas this spring break. However, against all odds, Austin, Stoll, Stuart, and I grabbed a carry on, our wallets, and dreams of unfathomable sums of money and headed for the City of Sin. No longer rookies, we checked into the MGM grand as crafty veterans of the Vegas scene. A few highlights:

Austin getting kicked out of the Lure Ultra Lounge in the newly constructed and elegantly upscale Wynn Hotel. Apparently you aren't allowed to fall asleep on one of the swanky couches. Stuart luckily intervened and convinced the security guard that he would take care of it, and came over to gently shake Austin awake. However, the fun had only just begun. A few minutes later, Austin, aparently bored to death, jumped on a plush piece of furniture (I'm sure it has a proper name, but who would know) and danced. The fist pumping, booty shakin' gyrations ended with Austin screaming, "This place SUCKS!" at the top of his lungs. The security guard masquerading as a clubber warped over in a milisecond and informed Austin, "I need you to leave the club right now." Austin's reply, "Seriously? Thank God." It was awesome.

Stuart learned how to booty quake and showed off his sensitive side for the ladies.

Riding "the Deuce" free of charge.

We learned that it behooves us to pick NBA games exactly the opposite of our natural inclination. False the Warriors for losing to the Hornets at home. The HORNETS!

Sitting with Austin at one of the hottest tables we've ever seen.

All of the funny clubs like the Tabu and Studio 54 that required "upscale fashion."

Stoll was dominated by a sandwich. Imagine how gigantic a sandwich would have to be to dominate a person. But it happened.

casinos that destroyed us: New York, New York; The Venetian, The Luxor.

Casino's that we took: El Cortez, The Sahara.

casinos where it was too close to call: MGM Grand. Some of the best memories from the MGM are: The Sports Book, watching Austin (in a frustrated rage) rip the pocket off of his dress shirt, and then tear it off completely with such ferocity that one of the buttons flew off and dinged the dealer at the next blackjack table. Stuart tried to help a drunk girl to her room, only to be repremanded for making a sexual advance. Stoll slept 14 hours in one day. We watched a guy win 20,000 on a single hand. Funny dealers like Kim, Lee, Heidi....and some jank dealers at the Venetian. The MGM grand buffet was amazing, and the Harley Davidson restaurant wasn't bad either.

The Big Winner: Ryan Stoll--Up $28. The rest of us...could have done better.

The Light Show downtown was supposed to be amazing, but it turned out to be terrible--honestly, it was really terrible. I felt sorry for the Downtown.

Important footnote: none of us got married.

Things I wanted to do but never managed to find time/money: The Stratosphere, Cirque de Soleil Ka. Guess there's always next year.

In all seriousness, Vegas is so glitz and glamour, but lurking just beneath the gilded golden layer is a less than flattering reality. I'm not sure I want to ever go back. The slightly blurred pictures capture the essence perfectly. If you keep moving fast enough, you never quite notice how empty it all feels.

Attempting to Overlook

2006-02-20T19:57:00.000-06:00

"The problem with lonelines is that, unlike other forms of human suffering, it teaches us nothing, leads us nowhere, and generally devalues us in our own eyes and the eyes of others. It lies upon the soul lightly or heavily, depending on one's age and one's luck, and swiftly transformes the heartiest of souls into a living ash of spritual doubt and despair. It is impervious to medicine, common sense, wisdom, humor, hope, or pride. It simply comes, sits in the center of the heart where it cannot be overlooked, and abides."

feels like today

2006-02-19T22:56:00.000-06:00

I used to think I would blog about the deep questions of life. You know, perspectives on beauty and truth. I'd hammer out definitions of love, or question the potential of human reason. Somehow I've managed to ignore all of those worthy topics in favor trivialities.

And this post is no different.

I just got home from seeing Rascal Flatts in concert. I've never seen them before, and hadn't been to a concert since I saw Counting Crows open for John Mayer. Overall I'd give tonights experience a B. (Being a teacher for more than two years, you'll have to forgive my tendency to grant "grades"...). They covered three songs, including Hotel California, Brown Eyed Girl, Rocketman...and something I can't remember. I went to see Matchbox20 several years ago and they played song after song, no pauses. I walked away impressed, thinking, "These guys are serious musicians." Some of you (poshak?) might question my label, but I thought they were excellent. Rascal Flatts, not serious musicians, but talented guys nontheless. The lead singer's voice was shot by the end of the night...but it was still a great show.

I still wonder what genre you'd put them in.

speaking of shows...did you guys see the opening ceremonies for the NBA All-Star game tonight? It was the tightest intro to any all-star game ever.

Let's hope for a deeper post next time.

We are Very Cool

2006-02-11T13:25:00.000-06:00

"from way...down...town....BANG!"

Austin, Chocolate, and I decided to play basketball. Lacking a basketball court, we found one a mile away at a newly constructed apartment complex. It was really sweet when Ray Allen showed up and schooled us all. You'll notice the perfect form.

I was playing the wrong sport. I lost.

"My ears are cold." --Chocolate

are you for real?

2006-01-20T09:41:00.000-06:00

This one kid in my class falls asleep every day. I mean, honestly, EVERY DAY. I've done everything I can think of. I've contacted his parents to see if they can help him get to bed earlier. I've tapped him on the shoulder, the head, given him a good shake. I've even made him stand up next to me during class (which I assume is embarrasing for him). I almost think sleeping his his artform...and that he'd probably figure out a way to fall asleep while standing. I don't think I'm that boring, or that our class is completely worthless....well...who knows...

any ideas?

wedding bells

2006-01-02T23:40:00.000-06:00

My brother Corey asked a girl to marry him last week in New York. Incidentally she said yes. You can read about it on Rosie O'Donnell's blog if you'd like. Rosie is in the broadway show The Fiddler on the Roof--the same show that Melissa is in (the future sister-in-law.) She was so delighted with the extravagant proposal that she felt compelled to put it on her blog, I supposed. I wasn't there, but the pictures look spectacular.

a thousand words...

2005-12-15T15:16:00.000-06:00

So, do you guys think you can capture beauty in words? Is it worthwhile even trying? Or should moments be left undescribed, and beauty left in the realm of experience alone?

midnight premiers

2005-12-14T11:08:00.000-06:00

Saw King Kong last night...at midnight, mind you, proving my dedication...or foolishness? I have a lot of thoughts about the movie, almost all of them positive. I can't imagine what movie Peter Jackson will direct next, but it will have to be something epic. I can't see him wasting time with anything "small." I wonder if in 40 years people will look back at the movies of 2005 and think, "how primitive was their technology!"

Kong was a great movie, I'm sure it will be the blockbuster of the season. It includes everything a good movie should have: love, tension, thrills, action, comedy, shocking deaths...even a woman in distress. and the creatures! How much fun did Jackson have creating a fully functioning prehistoric ecosytem? but its not a story about creatures, its a story about humans. in the end it made me just hate people. Is anything in the world as ugly as People? There was a good line in the movie about our tendency to destroy the things we love by trying to capture it. In the end we end up destroying both the object and ourselves.

At the same time, the fact that some people, brave and caring souls, fight against the tide of egotism and love something more than their own entertainment. These miracles, only possible through the touch of the Divine, are enough to give me hope and remind me that the world is not as it was intended. Nor is it as it will be. No disrespect to The Bard, but life isn't just "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury but signifying nothing." maybe it's not exactly the grand adventure i want it to be either, but it has to be something in between. And either way, it's all prelude to a greater story.

Roommates

2005-12-01T22:25:00.000-06:00

Roommates Stories:

Somehow Austin was actually emptying the dishwasher. While putting various items back in their homes, he noticed that a piece of tuperware had gone through the wash with the lid on. He pulled the container out of the dishwasher, pryed off the top, and took a whiff of the contents. I watched all of this from 5 feet away. What happened next I will not be able to convey justly. Before the lid was even halfway removed, Austin threw the container into the sink and screwed his face into the most acute expression of horror. Backpedaling across the kitchen, he slammed his body into the wall, ricocheted off the refridgerator amid cascading magnets and newspapers clippings. He then grabbed the back of his shirt with a desperate right hand and violently ripped his shirt over his head. He ended up sprawled in the corner of the room, writhing in an attempt to rid his body of an unseen filth. You must imagine all of this happening in the span of 3 seconds. Apparently, the tuperware contained the foulest smelling mold known to mankind and Austin had unwittingly submitted his poor nostrils to torment and agony. I rolled, laughing, on the floor for a solid 15 minutes.

Austin likes to catch food in his mouth. It's "the funniest," as he would say. Yesterday he found a packaged of cubed cheese left over from one of Dan's promotional meetings. It was like hitting the jackpot. Austin then handed the cheese package to Dan, instructing him to toss individual pieces of cheese across the room so that Austin could catch them in his mouth. Dan, delighting with this task, threw chunks of cheddar with an impressive degree of diversity, forcing Austin to lunge, leap, and even crash into the recliner to rescue the cheese from the certain contamination that would come from contact with our living room carpet. It was like watching a trained seal, and I'm not sure who was enjoying himself more, the trainer, or the seal.

I like having roommates again.

The Unexamined Life

2005-10-29T12:19:00.000-06:00

what to say, what to say...

It's difficult writing in a blog. I would like to hire someone to notice interesting occurances in my life and record them here, lately I just don't seem able to get the distance from my own life to have any perspective to write from. I've detected an alarming apathy towards journaling, and in general towards reflection. Some ancient Greek philosopher said, "The Unexamined Life is not worth living." That always had the ring of Truth about it. But if that's true, I'm disappointed in my lack of examination.

i'm not about to say Life's not worth living, so my roommates don't need to hide the knives...but I do wish I was able to rest more, able to sit somewhere far from distractions of any kind and review my life. I wish I had that attitude at all times, the ability to see the bigger picture, to realize that the trivial things that I let sap my attention do not deserve mention on this blog, let alone hours of my time. I wish I could see the bigger picture when one of my underachieving, disrespectful students acts like I'm the Enemy. I wish I could see the bigger picture when I'm too lazy or tired to write a long overdue email to 10 of my old friends. I wish I could see the bigger picture in my relationship with Jesus.

The blunt truth is that I don't like taking time to reflect. It's easier to just keep living. A colleague at school signs all of his emails, "picking them up and putting them down." And that's the truth about me too, I keep plodding through life...and in the back of my mind a question I asked my students this week resonates, "What IS life, anyway?"

I think I'm going to like blogging....many thanks to Quills for pushing me out of the nest.

My Name is Matt Webel

2005-10-24T13:06:00.000-06:00

My name is Matt Webel. I wouldn't write a post nearly this prosaic if I weren't employing a ghost writer for this first post. As it is, I didn't get a really creative writer, so I'll take what I can get.

I am currently teaching English at Rockbridge Senior High School in Co. MO. My best friends are Blazer, Josh D. (dude, the ghost writer doesn't know how to spell his last name), Fabbs, Jason aka "Chocolate," and Zach.

I have three younger siblings -
Corey (25) Mac-daddy Webel
Aaron (23) the Idealist Webel
Debbie (21) I Love All Things Texan Webel

My folks are Rick (I think) and Connie (I also think). My dad's a Cardiologist, which means he's a doctor, so I can pretty much tell you anything that might be wrong with you as well as how to fix it.

I get headaches all the time. Don't really know why that is (insert witty comment referring to the preceding sentence). My guess is that I either have a brain tumor, or that I'm stressing out too much trying to do everything perfectly.Well, that's all for now. Catch you later.