by Alex Limage and Josh Seligman
I saw the trees and thought of you
I watched the sunlight stumble through
Casting light upon the ground
I saw the footprints of this town
Reminding me I'm not alone,
the imprints of another soul I've never known,
I've never known.
A dream is hard to leave behind
But I cannot make up my mind
'Cause hope is always holding on
I never thought I'd sing these songs
But now I sing them all the time,
the harmonies of a song I've always known,
I've always known
Reminding me I'm not alone
The imprints of another soul I've never known,
I've never known.
And now I sing them all the time
The harmony of a song I've always known,
I've always known.
Our time is coming to an end
And my regrets I will suspend
Behind the trees the sun will bend
I watch my shadows reach behind
to hold the hands I never thought I'd ever hold,
I'd ever hold.
I saw the trees and thought of you.
23.1.09
17.1.09
The law and prospering
Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.
- Psalm 1:1-3
But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does.
- James 1:25
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.
- Psalm 1:1-3
But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does.
- James 1:25
9.1.09
Gifts
Last night, I went to the Redemption House by the church to hang out with friends. We watched TV, played Bingo, and chilled. While chilling, Kelsey asked me if I made anything for my mom this Christmas. I told her that I gave my mom a good book, but I regretted not giving my mom something homemade. Kelsey said that even then, the book was a good gift because it was meaningful to my mom.
Lately I've been thinking about gifts. What am I doing with the gifts I have been given?
For eight weeks this past summer, ten students and I lived in City Heights, a community in San Diego, where we took three classes, interned at various organizations, and lived together. There are many stories I could tell about Urban Term, but lately what has been on my mind has been our final day.
On that day, the eleven of us, with Dr. Modesto, went to the house of Dr. Gates, or Jamie. We ate snacks and watched "Babette's Feast," a movie in which a guest prepares a feast for her hosts, who are members of a rigid religious sect. At first, the hosts are cautious; they do not commonly drink or eat the fine wine and rich meats and desserts they see before them. But at the end of the evening, they realize that they have been blessed by Babette's feast.
After the movie, Jamie led us in a discussion wrapping up Urban Term. He told us that the Urban Term faculty didn't want us to be heroes, saving the world. He also warned us of becoming "limousine liberals," or people who speak against the ills of a consumerist society, for instance, while driving away in fancy cars and not truly caring for the environment or other people.
During Urban Term, none of us drove limousines. Some students had cars, and most of us rode bikes and buses around the city. But I could understand, at least a little, about trying to be a hero. Upon entering Urban Term, I had the mindset that we--that I--would bring hope and light into the neighborhood. Urban Term, though, was not only about giving, but receiving. We were, after all, guests.
One Thursday, someone knocked on our door. It was B.D., a tattoo artist. Earlier, one of our fellow students had met him on the bus, and this day, he asked Alex and me if we were interested in getting tattooes. We said no, but I think B.D. wanted more than customers. He wanted information.
"We're college students," I said, "and we're taking summer school classes. Part of what we're doing is learning a history of San Diego. A few weeks ago, we went to Sea World, and then to Chicano Park, and compared the two places."
"You went to Chicano Park? And what did you see in those murals?"
"The murals depicted. . . a story. One of the murals told a creation story, and--"
"The murals don't depict a story," he interrupted, "but a struggle."
B.D. taught me that this city had a story--many stories--going back to before it was a part of the United States. B.D. explained how many of the people on this block have lived here for generations, and if we want to learn a history of San Diego, we should talk to them. Offering to teach us, he invited us to his house.
I learned then that we were guests among guests in City Heights, in San Diego. It makes me wonder, maybe we are all guests. God created the world, and he is the host, inviting us to take care of the garden. What are we doing with the garden? How are we receiving it?
How are we receiving other gifts God gives us?
I was lent a gift from two other neighbors, Tom and Larry. It was Maddie W's birthday, and I volunteered to bake her a surprise cake. So, I went to the corner market and bought cake mix. On my way home, I bumped into Tom and Larry, who were painting over a garbage can that had been tagged. They offered me some gloves and a brush.
"I wish I could, but I can't," I said. "Today is one of my fellow students' birthdays, and I'm baking them a cake."
"What kind of cake?"
I showed Tom the red cardboard box.
"Do you have a cylinder pan?" Tom asked.
"No. What's that?"
Apparently one needs a cylinder pan for baking angel food cake.
Tom drove me to his house and let me borrow their pan. I verbally thanked Tom, and silently thanked God for this unexpected gift. Eventually the cake was baked, and Al decorated it with whip cream and strawberries while Angela pretended we were late to dinner because of traffic. I had not felt so accomplished and satisfied in a long time. I was able to give because someone else had given to me. I returned the pan to Tom a couple days later.
We always had enough during Urban Term. We were given $8 per person per day, and for a couple weeks the budget was reduced to $3. At first, I thought it would be difficult to survive on these rations, but even $3 a day was an abundance. Sharing money saves money, and it also makes for creative, fresh meals.
That's not to say we were never hungry. One evening, Al and I opened the fridge to look for some food and all we could find was a bag of rotten baby carrots, a half jug of milk, salsa, and the plastic casing of a chocolate mousse cake, without the cake.
Still, people shared food with us. One day, Roy, who works at Mid-City Church of the Nazarene, where our classes were held, gave us plastic bags full of food. Several times a week, the church gives food at no charge to anyone who comes by, and that day, the church had leftovers.
As I hooked the plastic bags full of yogurt, pre-made sandwiches, and bananas on my bike handles, I asked Roy, "Is there anyone in the neighborhood we could give this to?" I felt that surely, others needed it more than we.
Roy seemed slightly offended. "No, we don't give food out door to door. And this food is for you guys." I then recognized the need to receive every gift with thanksgiving. It was rude of me not to receive the food because Roy wanted to bless us with it.
How am I receiving the gifts I am given?
Like Babette's hosts, we have been blessed by God with many gifts, including the opportunity to attend a university. "One of the ways we can keep from having a limousine liberal attitude," Jamie said on that final day of Urban Term, "is by realizing that all these good things we have are gifts from God."
After our discussion, we were given handmade chalices, books, and small journals. We also took Communion together, followed by a meal.
Living in community those eight weeks was not always easy. But it was good. It was a gift. All good things come from God, and I am blessed with many good things: health, family, friends, abilities, grace, forgiveness, hope. And none of these are possible without the ultimate gift--Jesus--whom God gave to the world because God loved the world. God still loves the world, and he offers his Son and the gifts that come from his Son to all of us. "To all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." May I receive God's gifts in a manner that pleases him.
Lately I've been thinking about gifts. What am I doing with the gifts I have been given?
For eight weeks this past summer, ten students and I lived in City Heights, a community in San Diego, where we took three classes, interned at various organizations, and lived together. There are many stories I could tell about Urban Term, but lately what has been on my mind has been our final day.
On that day, the eleven of us, with Dr. Modesto, went to the house of Dr. Gates, or Jamie. We ate snacks and watched "Babette's Feast," a movie in which a guest prepares a feast for her hosts, who are members of a rigid religious sect. At first, the hosts are cautious; they do not commonly drink or eat the fine wine and rich meats and desserts they see before them. But at the end of the evening, they realize that they have been blessed by Babette's feast.
After the movie, Jamie led us in a discussion wrapping up Urban Term. He told us that the Urban Term faculty didn't want us to be heroes, saving the world. He also warned us of becoming "limousine liberals," or people who speak against the ills of a consumerist society, for instance, while driving away in fancy cars and not truly caring for the environment or other people.
During Urban Term, none of us drove limousines. Some students had cars, and most of us rode bikes and buses around the city. But I could understand, at least a little, about trying to be a hero. Upon entering Urban Term, I had the mindset that we--that I--would bring hope and light into the neighborhood. Urban Term, though, was not only about giving, but receiving. We were, after all, guests.
One Thursday, someone knocked on our door. It was B.D., a tattoo artist. Earlier, one of our fellow students had met him on the bus, and this day, he asked Alex and me if we were interested in getting tattooes. We said no, but I think B.D. wanted more than customers. He wanted information.
"We're college students," I said, "and we're taking summer school classes. Part of what we're doing is learning a history of San Diego. A few weeks ago, we went to Sea World, and then to Chicano Park, and compared the two places."
"You went to Chicano Park? And what did you see in those murals?"
"The murals depicted. . . a story. One of the murals told a creation story, and--"
"The murals don't depict a story," he interrupted, "but a struggle."
B.D. taught me that this city had a story--many stories--going back to before it was a part of the United States. B.D. explained how many of the people on this block have lived here for generations, and if we want to learn a history of San Diego, we should talk to them. Offering to teach us, he invited us to his house.
I learned then that we were guests among guests in City Heights, in San Diego. It makes me wonder, maybe we are all guests. God created the world, and he is the host, inviting us to take care of the garden. What are we doing with the garden? How are we receiving it?
How are we receiving other gifts God gives us?
I was lent a gift from two other neighbors, Tom and Larry. It was Maddie W's birthday, and I volunteered to bake her a surprise cake. So, I went to the corner market and bought cake mix. On my way home, I bumped into Tom and Larry, who were painting over a garbage can that had been tagged. They offered me some gloves and a brush.
"I wish I could, but I can't," I said. "Today is one of my fellow students' birthdays, and I'm baking them a cake."
"What kind of cake?"
I showed Tom the red cardboard box.
"Do you have a cylinder pan?" Tom asked.
"No. What's that?"
Apparently one needs a cylinder pan for baking angel food cake.
Tom drove me to his house and let me borrow their pan. I verbally thanked Tom, and silently thanked God for this unexpected gift. Eventually the cake was baked, and Al decorated it with whip cream and strawberries while Angela pretended we were late to dinner because of traffic. I had not felt so accomplished and satisfied in a long time. I was able to give because someone else had given to me. I returned the pan to Tom a couple days later.
We always had enough during Urban Term. We were given $8 per person per day, and for a couple weeks the budget was reduced to $3. At first, I thought it would be difficult to survive on these rations, but even $3 a day was an abundance. Sharing money saves money, and it also makes for creative, fresh meals.
That's not to say we were never hungry. One evening, Al and I opened the fridge to look for some food and all we could find was a bag of rotten baby carrots, a half jug of milk, salsa, and the plastic casing of a chocolate mousse cake, without the cake.
Still, people shared food with us. One day, Roy, who works at Mid-City Church of the Nazarene, where our classes were held, gave us plastic bags full of food. Several times a week, the church gives food at no charge to anyone who comes by, and that day, the church had leftovers.
As I hooked the plastic bags full of yogurt, pre-made sandwiches, and bananas on my bike handles, I asked Roy, "Is there anyone in the neighborhood we could give this to?" I felt that surely, others needed it more than we.
Roy seemed slightly offended. "No, we don't give food out door to door. And this food is for you guys." I then recognized the need to receive every gift with thanksgiving. It was rude of me not to receive the food because Roy wanted to bless us with it.
How am I receiving the gifts I am given?
Like Babette's hosts, we have been blessed by God with many gifts, including the opportunity to attend a university. "One of the ways we can keep from having a limousine liberal attitude," Jamie said on that final day of Urban Term, "is by realizing that all these good things we have are gifts from God."
After our discussion, we were given handmade chalices, books, and small journals. We also took Communion together, followed by a meal.
Living in community those eight weeks was not always easy. But it was good. It was a gift. All good things come from God, and I am blessed with many good things: health, family, friends, abilities, grace, forgiveness, hope. And none of these are possible without the ultimate gift--Jesus--whom God gave to the world because God loved the world. God still loves the world, and he offers his Son and the gifts that come from his Son to all of us. "To all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." May I receive God's gifts in a manner that pleases him.
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