ok, I'm back; by the way - life's random

Ok, so it's been a week or so since we've talked, don't shot me for it, I'm lazy! Let's see what's happened in my world over the last couple of weeks. Umm, the civil war part three happen, that's what. If you know more then my name then you probablely know I'm a southern boy in a Yankee state, who married a northerner. So in some minds Pearl and I getting married and starting this marriage journey has been known as the second civil war; a collision of the north and south. But that is a good collision (just a side note, I really love my wife, she's amazing! but enough of the mushy stuff). So, here is the third civil war. It's called, a warm blooded Southern boy who enjoys nice hot Georgia summers going skiing in the Pocono’s with a negative 15 wind chill. Yeah that temp is current, a negative 15 wind chill, that's like 15 degrees below zero, and I thought zero was the coldest it got, nope, it can go lower. Yeah, so I take my winter clothing, which means taking all the clothes I have that don't have holes in them, and wear them at once. So I looked like a stuffed snowman, like a little kid that doubles in size after it's mom gets done dressing them. So "stuffed matt" goes out in the negative 15 war zone called nature, and strapped wooden planks to my feet and tried to gracefully fall down the side of a mountain. I realized when the ski rental man gave me little girl skis I was in trouble. My wife's skis were a good foot longer then mine. [For my southern friends, the longer the ski's the faster you go, so with me having shorter skis it was like wearing a sign that said "hey for a good laugh watch the short ski boy fall on his face."] I spent a couple of hours learning the "snow plow", which looks like your trying to hold your bladder from exploding really hard, they say this is suppose to make you stop, and if it don't you had to choose opinion two, which is to flop to your side and frail all body parts out like an anchor. We spent the morning getting use to the bunny slop, which I never figured out the bunny part of it, then headed up the mountain to a "beginner" slop. Beginner my foot! This was straight off the side of the earth. They literally want you to fall of the side of the mountain. I'm clueless on how you do this, but after I saw a person in a wheelchair doing it, followed by a bland skier with a guide, I figured if I wanted any manhood left associated with my name I better at least give it a try. Well, I tried, let just say that, I don't believe I've ever been more scared, I mean I can handle a chainsaw, that could rip your leg off like no one's business, and feel comfortable with a high powered rife, but trying to follow my wife and a group of girls down the face of a mountain was just beyond me. I froze, I was terrified, so an adult leader (which I was suppose to be) had to slowly coach me down the hill, I was waiting for him to offer me to hold his hands, after forty minutes of terror and ice burn on my face for "flopping" I safely arrived back at the lodge, at which point I immediately stood up and acted like I was the best skier on the earth and told the leader to not say a word about my whimpering on the mountain, and I was wasn't calling for mommy I was asking if he had any money. Yeah, so I'm not a skier, that's ok, I'll leave that to the five year olds and northerners who where apparently born with skis on their feet, I bet that birth was interesting.

I'm currently sitting at a coffee house, I had breakfast with a student (at 6am, that's a dumb idea, we both sat here like zombie, making small grunts as a form of communication), and decided to stay and think, blog, and try to do a little work. Well, a conversation began with one of the girls who work at the shop. She's in college, studying to be a computer programmer. After a couple of minutes of small talk she asked me where I work. I was a little hesitate in say a church, due to not wanting to come across as a super Christian. But to my surprise when I said LCBC, she lit up, and very excitedly shared how she recently started going there and how she was reconnecting with God. She then wanted to know how to connect to the new young adult thing, it just so happens I'm on the leadership team of this new young adult thing, I gave her my work number and said to call with any questions. Well a couple of minutes later she wanted to tell me about one of her friends, about how he and his girl-friend just had a baby, how the girl-friend was now leaving him for another guy, and how she would like to give him my number so we could talk. I was like whoa, I'm not counselor, but maybe this guy doesn't need a counselor right now, maybe he never would take to a counselor, may be he just needs a normal ol' kid, who tries to follow this man named Jesus. May be this guy just needs to connect with an average Joe, me, and through this average Joe connect with a God who longs to restore and hold him. The God who designed him, who longs for Him, who dreams of reuniting with him.

All this to say, I'm scared of ministry, I'm scared of the church, I'm scared of not being "good enough,” of being a crappy communicator, of not knowing the answers, of not being "holy" enough (whatever "holy Enough" is), of not being able to make a difference, of not being wanted. But, this morning God reminded me, it's not about me being enough of anything, or knowing enough, or preparing enough, it's about being that average Joe, an average Joe who follows after Christ. The world does not need more spiritual superstars who shine their "glory" for all they see, the world needs a couple of Joes who'll sit at a coffee shop and take the time to listen to some stranger, then to be willing to let that stranger ask them spiritual questions, unto which you invite them on the journey. I don't have to have it all together, to be perfect, I just need to be personally seeking after Christ, personally making the journey, and then inviting others to walk with me.

Well, This is a small novel of a blog, I don't have life or spirituality figured out, but life's random and may we journey towards God, and use the randomness to extend the journey to others.

Enjoy the coffee, the suns finally up!
Peace

Well, today is the big day! We leave for powderburn this afternoon. For the non-Lcbc readers that is our Sr. High Ski trip (this is one of the biggest events the high school does). Chad and I went today to get the truck we are using to take up our equipment, we thought we were getting a truck, but to our suprise we were getting no normal truck, we were getting the wonderbread truck fully equiped with slideing doors and bread racks (it's not exactly the "wonderbread" truck, just a want-a-be). It looks like a mail truck, UPS truck, and golf cart blended together, I'm glad Chad and I are already married, cause there's no picking up dates in this sweet ride. Powderburn is calling my name, so is Saturate, and the other details to be covered before departure. So to all that read have a great weekend, enjoy the journey, and we shall talk more come Tuesday.
Chow

So here the first, we'll see how long this last

So as the title reads this is my first blog ever. In the past I was not a fan of blogging, but after reading some of my friend's blogs and also realizing that everyone was doing it I decided to give into pear pressure and conform to societies definition of cool! So here I go attempting to be cool and to fit in by blogging. But to be honest I now feel like I am just rambling and typing to just fill space. I guess this gets easier over time. Kind of like talking to your father-in-law or something. You're scared to death the first time, and studier all over your words, but come two years later, after asking him "The Big Question" you are starting to talk like normal humans, and it almost feels natural. I've always thought I was better communicating with my mouth then I was with written words, so in reality there could be absolutely no connection between blogging and talking with your father-in-law. Who knows, and honestly who cares. Well blogging must be a little like exercising, you've gotta start out slow, or you'll be sorry for it the next day. I may not be sore from blogging tomorrow, but if I don't get some work done, I'll be sore after I get done digging ditches because I'm fired! Gotta go, Gotta work. Till next time, hopefully there is a next time.
Later