Over the weekend, I went to a large Christian concert tour with the youth group I help lead. And I want to begin this post by saying that I came away from the concert, overall, very positively. But I want to talk about something that I experienced there that I think is important, and highlights an issue I’ve had with “Big Christian” several times in the past. Continue reading
The 24 Project is a year-long writing challenge I began on my 24th birthday. To learn more, head over here. Otherwise, Read on!
A few years back, I had to get a form filled out for my work-study job at school. When I got to the office, the woman I needed to see was still at lunch, and rather than walk the 4 blocks back to campus only to return later, I decided and wait. There wasn’t a lot in the office, but I noticed a small statue of a panther, our school mascot, on one of the desks. I pulled out my sketchbook and started doodling and letting my mind wander.
It wasn’t a great sketch. It was barely an intentional one. But after while, a girl came in and noticed what I was doing. She commented on my sketch, and seemed genuinely impressed by it. A few minutes later, it happened again. Another girl came in, saw the sketch, and seemed even more enthusiastic about it than the first. I set the drawing down and looked at it. I had definitely made worse, but I couldn’t find anything particularly impressive about the smudged and scribbled lines on my page. The proportions were wrong, the lighting was impossible, and the face looked like smashed Play-doh. Continue reading
The 24 Project is a year-long writing challenge I began on my 24th birthday. To learn more, head over here. Otherwise, Read on!
Always hold doors for girls.
That is the earliest piece of fatherly wisdom my dad bestowed upon me that I can recall. Hold doors for girls. I’m not even sure he gave me any reasoning for this but, being six years old, I started holding doors for girls.
When you’re a three and a half foot tall kid with a bowl haircut and giant glasses, you get nothing but smiles when hold doors for girls. And that’s what I remember the most. Not the struggle of pushing those doors open, or the Herculean effort of then holding that door in place, but the smiles. Smiles of confusion, then surprise, then simple joy, laughter and thanks. And, pretty quickly, I didn’t need my dad to tell me to go do it, or to push me towards the door. I went and did it on my own, because I loved seeing those smiles. Continue reading
Message Perceived 