Morning Light - Click to Pittock Mansion

A new friend and I took the morning and went out for a photo-jaunt. We started with good morning light and soon ended up in the fog. We shared some digi-talk and improved our skills. I am grateful for my new friend and the delete button.

West Union Road - Hillsboro Oregon at 7:40 AM


Pittock Mansion - Portland Oregon at 8:30 am


Her name is Shaddow. She said she was a special child of God and asked if I could spare a dollar. When I shook her hand, her fingers were icy cold. I could tell she was special. Her heart was warm and her smile filled with hope. Stay in the light Shaddow.


A cold look down and a foggy look up.

Red Robin Photo Challenge - Past VS. Present

Round Robin Photo Challenge: Past VS. Present

Thanks to my friends at Round Robin (Karen and the gang...) for the most fun way to share photos. I messed up the last challenge by not following the directions (pretty embarrassing, seeing that I'm a teacher and should be able to follow some basic instructions). My problem might not be "reading" but rather my limited ability at the blogger thing.

My Before and After? The front yard. I decided to remove a diseased pine tree. It dropped its last needle on my lawn! The best thing though, the neighbors showed up and helped my cut it down and haul it away. I love my neighbors. True Community.

Well, here's the before.


And the during...



Here's the after.

Whew.

See below for my own little photo challenge.

Photo Challenge: PANTRY

Stop. Go grab your camera. Quick. Using the most advanced features on your digital camera, capture a picture of your pantry or kitchen cabinet. Must be posted by January 8, 2007.

Rules:
1. Don't go in the pantry and start cleaning up first...
2. Post your pantry photo to your blog and then leave me a comment as to where I can find your post on your blog (URL).
3. On your post describe all the technical aspects of your photo. If you are not sure how to do this, sometimes you can right click on your photo and open up the properties and it will list the background specifics. Please include:
a. original file type, size and pixels
b. shutter speed
c. aperture setting
d. advanced camera settings
e. lighting
f. focal length
g. distance
h. ISO/ASA
I. Most importantly here - Camera brand and make (and which accesory you can't live without).
4. Also, tell a little bit about your pantry and the contents thereof.

I'll provide incentives (here's the categories):
The Messiest Pantry
Mega Sexy Pantry
Over the top Pantry
Ethnic Pantry
Earth friendly Pantry
Bulky Bulk Hulk Pantry
Spooky Pantry
....and more.


Click to enlage.

This is the pantry that started out as an entryway in our home. But during our remodel, we decided to change where our front door was located. This left a little nook by the kitchen. When my mind's eye saw this for the first time it said "pantry."

a. original file type: RAW. 3264 X 2448 pixels at 13223 KB
b. shutter speed: 1/2 second
c. aperture setting: f 2.8 (the lowest I can get - only in aperture mode thought)
d. advanced camera settings: APERTURE (it's the A in PASM)
e. lighting (some, incandescent 60 watt bulb)
f. focal length: wide at 24 mm
g. distance: about 8 feet
h. ISO/ASA: ISO 100 - in auto ISO
I. KODAK P880 (8.0 MP. Favorite accessory is now a UV haze filter.

After the pantry was shelved, I remember my very efficient and thoughtful wife filling it up in just two days with all the things you see here. My favorite shelf contains the breakfast cereal and my almond granola. I love the concept of "pantry." It makes me pause and reflect on the greatness of God. It was said by the ancient Hebrews that His storehouses are filled with love and peace.

Paradigm: Goodness

Brilliant light makes joy
the glitter of Christmas-time...
You worship Jesus


Taken is small steps
the rodent has carved his home
but not in my house.


City is alive
crowded crowns of technology
lonliness and death


Wonder the moment
sun dips low and minutes
are seconds. Breathe out.

Sunday scribbling: I, Hero

At first, the topic of hero was a drag. I read student papers every day. Promptings, such as this are predictable and hedonistic.

I read a few SS entries on Sunday night and was benignly inspired to write a treatise on how Jesus is not (and should not be called), "hero." He is 100% man and 100% Deity. Heroes are human. Heroes live in limited time/space and deal with nothing close to omnipotence.
Heroes take old cardboard boxes and help students turn them into mythical beasts.


I, am Hero. I live in a limited time and space and operate in limited capacity. As teacher, in the public school, I am reminded every day of my limited ability and yet, have the juxtaposed reality of 30 bright faces staring in my direction, expectantly. How strange, to know that you are the object of hope, peace and self-concept. I am Hero. Yes, I capitalize my alias. For that is the calling I am blessed with everyday.

Mom cried when I told her that her daughter was improving her scores in math. You see, K hated math. Actually, to be more open - she said she hated men. She told me that after she boldly announced to the entire class, "I am a vegetarian and my mom who has brain cancer and I hate men." I apologized for all men and told her that I know I was her first man teacher. After that, I began to tell everyone about her intellect, her insight, her ability to understand and bring joy to others'. She flourished and brought me an apple and homemade cookies. I gloated over her baking ability and her way of being creative with the pecans. K told me that her mom found out she was in "remention." and wanted to know what that was. I smiled and the next day we had a donut party for her and talked about remission. I, Hero, poured my life into her and gave her hope. She said that she still hates men - but only ones that hit her - and then leaves. I hate those kind of guys too. Mom cried when she told me, choking back the tears, "thank you Mr. G., K hasn't liked school for the past 4 years. I looked up, and in typical hero-fashion, pointed my finger to the rafters and said, "don't thank me, thank Him." She winked and from behind her head scarf I saw a tuft of hair fall. I commented that I didn't know she had blonde hair, and left.

This Hero also has a secret tool belt (that I use to assist all the other teachers that leave their tools back home).
This Hero makes the coffee every morning for all staff.
This Hero gets the calls to fix the computers.
This Hero uses his super powers of faith, to trust every free and reduced lunch student or migrant student to bring his $49 text book back to class.
This Hero calls home to brag about more of his students than to complain about their "lack of effort to meet their true potential."
This Hero dies a bit everyday when he realizes that he could have done more.

The Bridge: Limiting or De-Limiting Factor?

As the bridge raises to allow for river passing, the traffic is stopped. Some foot passengers may even be thwarted and even in danger of overhead, impaired clearance.

So, do you ever feel that the hand of God has left you and that all the hope you have placed in the path you are on is gone. The steps you have taken to assure your success are trivial in light of new obstacles. You know that the bridge is good but there's no way to cross. Wait. Crap!

It is at this point, this very crux that I find myself too often. It's most embarrassing to start the whining and then to realize, that my little perspective is so limited. By my minor inconveniences, many other more important circumstances (often outside my perspective) are allowed to float about their own way.

For example: I recently spent two weeks of concentrated whining when a key employee in my local union was removed and quickly replaced. Man was I mad. All my plans, support systems and balances were interrupted. I thought I should quit, write a letter, or go over somebody's' head. My problem was, in my limited perspective. This may be the best way for me to grow and try new things.

I have always said, "don't get mad, get even." This time I'm just plain sad. I can't cross the bridge the same way that I used to. I feel alone and don't trust my union or their leaders. How can I work for people I don't trust?

Well, maybe it's me. How do I learn to trust myself? And when the bridge finally does lower back into position, how can I take it out of park and move forward when I don't know where I'm going any more?

Will I ever trust them? Me?

Watch you head...

The Passenger: What I Did Not See.

Downtown, PDX, Saturday morning.

I did not see hope.


I did not see fear, but was it because there was nothing to fear or no respect for life?


I did not see a city.


I did not see the "haves"


So, I asked a guy (not standing in line for free food) if I could take a picture of him. He said nothing. I said I wanted to capture the steam coming up from his coffee. He liked that idea.
"Sure, I got it just a minute ago." I snapped the picture and commented on how cold it was. I asked him if he was warm enough.
"No problem. I'm an old pro at this game." He pointed at the soup line. "After the line goes down I'll grab some food for my buddies that can't walk up here."
"What do you mean" I asked?
"Oh. I got some Vets under the bridge and they can't make it."

I didn't see any holes in his hands, but he was the closest thing I saw to Jesus that morning.

Healthy New Me - CAKES

I've managed to pick up an impolite little illness - no doubt left behind by my sixth graders. Hacking and coughing my way through the kitchen this morning I threw together (with my son, the nine year old monkey-chef) my healthy pancake speciality. Just two bites and I knew I was on the road to recovery. I even cooked this same recipe in Canada, while camping on remote, Marvin Island, with 12 hungry high schoolers.

Here's the recipe.

HEARTY OAT NUT PANCAKES

3 cups Bizquick
2 eggs
1 Tbs canola oil
2 cups milk - or to desired thickness
1 tsp Vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon (optional)
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup whole oats - old fashioned - dry
2 Tbs ground flax seed (optional)
1 Tbs fresh grated orange peel (optional)

Mix and set for 5 minutes.
Add milk to reach desired thickness.
Pan fry and serve with butter and syrup.
The kids like these with chocolate chips in them. I know - spoiled brats. But I figure - if it helps them get all that protein and fiber down their gullet, why not?

Did I say fiber? Sorry.

Enjoy.

Round Robin Photo Challenge

The Creative Side of Who?

The Creator has made those that create in His image...

This is my reflective son. Fishing without success; melancholy. And impressed mostly by his dad when photographed; proudly.

View all other Round Robin creations here:
http://roundrobinphoto.blogspot.com/

CONFESSIONS OF A MEMBER OF A CHURCH WHO LISTENS TO A PREACHER

This weekend I sat through a brilliant sermon. I know that I may have appeared to close my eyes. And I must honestly confess that I was tired, but I heard every word. I worked harder to hear and listen and understand this sermon than I ever have. I was listening for three people. It's hard work to listen (just ask my wife). Seriously, I think I broke a sweat on this one.

To those who have ears let him hear. Yes, I'm well aware that I have two ears and one mouth and ,therefore, should do more listening than talking. But at this time I think I have something to say. The passage is John 17:6-19 (the scene: upper room, the event: Jesus prays, Sermon theme: Going In To the World).

The first person I was listening for was myself.
Go into the world. Ambassador/Priest. Go and take Jesus with you and make a change.
I really get it. I am really doing it. I'm commited to my small group and going into my Judea/Samaria and making a difference in people's lives by meeting their physical needs first. I get it.

The second person I was listening for was the me that needs to be open to change.
Is there more I should be doing? At what point and to what lengths do I deny myself and my responsibility as a husband and father to serve Christ and "my mission." What is my mission? Am I actually doing anything in my ministry that creates a cultural change? You gotta know- I feel good about this. I'm doing good. The CULTURE of change I'm moving for is getting godly men to use their God given strength and tools to show love to others (needy or not). After all, isn't that the message of Jesus simplified? Love God, love your neighbor. This is not an esoteric, didactic, or otherwise, mental leap. Just do it. Shut up and do it.

The third person I was listening for was the Pastor.
His final punch...
"TO CREATE CULTURE MEANS:
-a culture of grace—in a culture of disgrace
-a culture of respect—in a culture of coarseness
-a culture of justice—in a culture of oppression
-a culture of trust—in a culture of cynicism."

It is at this very point that I finally realized why I struggle with "Church," so much. Why is it that I don't put great value in the words of preachers. Look at the bulleted list. Do you see the words: serve, sacrafice, give, share? Is it implied? Maybe. What about the Word of God. Is it meant to be preached or lived?

As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.

On the Home Front

Why haven't I blogged recently? Honestly?
Well, I've been a bit busy lately.

I've been readjusting to life back in the states after my 2 week trip to Klemtu, Canada.
I've been at two soccer games a Saturday - Go Mud puppies and Grey Wolves!

I've been gardening: replanting 4 azaleas, 5 hostas, and a bed of grass. AND removing a 50 foot sugar pine - I wish it had a tap-root - but no, it had 45 saprophytic anchor roots. I added 3 dump trips, 2 loads of decorative rock and one load of bark dust and several trips to Home Depot.
I've been starting a school year by opening up my first portable classroom.
I've been starting to apply my grant funding to my school technology and publishing plan.
I've been getting 22 new staff people (some still technology resistant) in a building of 800 students initiated on the computer network.
I've been in church commitee meetings.
I've been to the church pic a nic and (arguable) won the pie eating contest - this was one of my llife goals...
I've been sick with a fever of 101 for 3 days only to find I had an unexplained foot infection. Been to Doctor, Emergency, PT and more.
I've been busy "Jesus Punking" my fellow man.
I've been so lonely that all I could do is cry out to God for His comfort.
I've been angry.
I've been hurt.
I've been - Damn. I'm really going to have to stop blogging and start taking care of myself...

The truth of the matter... My loving wife has been hogging computer and I just haven't had that much to say latley.

Transportation - Round Robin Challenge

Coming back from my first short term mission- I was told to prepare for culture shock. Klemtu was a great time and I absolutely loved the people.

I have been asked what it was like.... I may be in error in stating this, however, I really felt that getting to Klemtu (a 13 hour ferry ride), was like traveling through the most remote and wild forests and waterways (now here's the catch) only to end up in the middle of a ghetto.

Then, in this coastal backwater, a large, privately owned vessel appeared. Look closely. Do you see a large boat and a small boat? The little boat is 31 feet long with twin diesel engines and can cruise at 58 knots. But look even closer. Do you see more floaties(under tarps)? Do you see the two outboards and two jet skis and two crane lifts to drop the "toys" in the water?

After 6 days of talking with the wonderful people of Klemtu, and then being interrupted by the conversations about this visiting yacht - disgust. Our talks needed to be about hope and making good choices, not about false gods and empty idols filled with rust and decay. I was embarrassed by the boat and the "American" wealth and glammour it represented. Could it be that I was already in culture shock?

Americana - Round Robin Challenge

Bike Parade
Block Party USA

Several years in a row, our neighborhood blocks off the street and does the 4th of July proud. Parades, music, games, prizes, BBQ, firewords, and lots of smiles.

Thanks to Bob (on the bike) for holding us to our traditions.

Here's to the Red, White and Blue.

Break Time

Up on the mountain, stuck on the job- painting houses.

No. This week has been a blast. I have spent the last 30 hours of work-a-day-light time painting a house on the hill for a friend. No calls. No interuptions. Just me and my thoughts. Then, invading my thoughts - the voice of God. Calling me back from the noise of the classroom and the bustle of the valley floor. Thoughts turned to prayer. Prayer turned to blessings. Next thing I knew it was 6PM and I had completed my job. Exhausted and blessed. I wasn't working alone. Covered in paint and sweat and by the blood.

I stepped back to admire my work - but it wasn't enough. I stepped back away from the house and admired the work of His hand - the earth below - and rested.

Good job God.

The Inter Intra Test

What do you see? A or B?

A. There is an interaction between two unlike things that are apart from each other.
B. There is an interaction between two like things that are part of each other.

Too subltle for you?

Sunshine and Tree. A or B?

Enough about photosynthesis...

What about you?
A. Is there an interaction between you and God - distinctly unique?
B. Is there an interaction with your God in you and you in Him, as part of each other?

Too subltle for you?

What is your interaction like? Do you need Him? Do you think He needs you?

God is not a man that He should require an intercourse with man. However, we are "like" Him, in that He delights in the intercourse with man.

Not comfortable with the word "intercourse?" What about "intimate relationship?"

Oh, maybe you are not comfortable with "Him," the masculine pronoun. Then forget what you know about men and think about the SUN. More powerful than the tree, right? We could even go so far as to say "the SUN nurtures the tree." Sounds a bit less masculine maybe even femine? No, I'm not suggesting that God is a woman - but I'm just as sure that He is not a man. Try, "spirit." That's why we are only "like" Him.

Ok, so try this little experiment.

EXPERIMENT -
Hypothesis - If God is good/strong/merciful/gentle/kind/ (you get the point...) then - ask (pray) for His goodness to shine into you and nurture you - and He will delight in it.

You don't like to pray? Try this. Ask God to be like the SUN to you.

Tell me what you discover. This is the real test. How do you know that you passed? One word, "Fruit."

Sun Scrib'n

Writing Prompt - First Memory

LION HUNTING
North Dakota, Bismark.
Early spring.
Tall snow, waiting.
Then, short green grasses.
Lots of little puddles in between.

Croaking, chirping, little green jumpers.
Not really lions, but that's what we said.
Brothers on tricyles.
Maybe two years old.

The lions could not survive the three wheeled chariots.
Little green spots turn red.
Cool.

Big brother picked some up and pocketed a few.
Not me.
Too yucky.
Wiggly, screaming, crying.

Later, big brother made mom scream, too.
Laundry room all stinky with lion guts.
Cool.

Tomorrow, more lions.
Sleep now.
Dream of lions.

Cedar Waxwings Social Group

We've been visited by a group of 20-30 of these birds. Lovely colors. They sing only when they fly away with a high pitched whistle that sounds like "schpee-oo."

I've used online and paper versions to find more about these guys.

They really like to lite on the blooms of the "Red Hot Fire Pokers" or "Gods' Paint Brush." I thought they were just doing the hummingbird thing- just drinking the sweet nectar. But now, I would say that they are eating the blooms or fruit.

They rest in the big oak tree in the back yard and then visit the front yard 3 times before lunch.

I wonder if they will stick around?

SunScrib

Me- First Love

What is that feeling? There is a welling up and a buzzing with excited flashes.
The sensation is: at once child-like, mindless, and somehow, strangly cerebral.

A glance was shared in sixth grade.
A hand was held in seventh grade.
A cheeck was kissed in eighth grade.
A mouth was kissed in ninth.

Each time, the brain went for a whoop!
Each time, a feeling that I knew I could not define.

The chemistry of LOVE; both ionic and electric.
The heat, the friction, the glow. The cool down.

There was a time when the sensation was an identity of its own.
I must have fallen for me. Sick huh? In love with love?

How depraved and so very sad.

We love ourselves. Self-centric.
Invest in, care for, protect, kling to, clothe, puff and primp just for the preservation of self.

What a beautiful wreck.

Sunday Scribbling

Three Wishes
Light. Unity. Strength.

I pray for light, that I may not hide in the darkness.

I pray for unity that His gloriuos light might shine on us all.

I pray for strength because the night is long and the days grow cold.

Sunday Scrib

What Makes Mom Cry?

Yes, I am a momma's-boy. Yes, I know it's Mother's Day.

Few events in my life have escaped their impact without tears. That is to say, the really big stuff- are teary. Yes, I cry. I learned this from my mom.

I can first remember moms' tears as she was listening (while ironning) to her brand new concert albums - collections of symphonic masterpieces. It must have been Mozart. The tears were not joy or sadness. The tears were just a welling up of emotive energy. I cry when I hear a song at just the right time, too.

Later, I recall a certain event on the black and white TV (13 inch screen). Everyone was dressed in black and a little boy was holding an folded up American flag. "Mom, why does that little boy get a flag?" No answer, just tears (from behind the ironning board).

Also, Robert and Martin. Funerals and tears. I learned to cry.

Now, I'm married to a crier. She cries when she is happy and when sad. She watches movies and cries. She wants to watch movies just so she can cry. She avoids other movies because "I know it will make me cry." Mystery.

What I do know, I need her tears. My stupid emotional disconnectness - needs to see her tears. As she cries, I see the path of her heart and hear the voice of the almighty.

There is peace when she cries. It is like a holy momment, sacred and beautiful. I wish she would let me closer to her tears. She likes to hide in the darkness of the theater or behind tissues when she cries.

Maybe a book about her tears is too personal. A more clinical approach (with excerpts from some chick named Judith), now that may work. What about a DIY approach - yes, Do It Yourself -the home crying manual for idiots - a book for men to get in touch with the tears of the women they love. Or , maybe a book that seeks the history of tears in literature.

It will never happen - or maybe it's already written... Either way, I'll never write it. I'll just keep it all to myself. Mums the word.