95 and 50.

Work with me.

The past several months have found me retreating further and further from any sort of meaningful interaction with other people. It did little to stunt my direct delivery and penchant for tactlessness. But as far as any sort of real vulnerability, there was nothing.

Over the break I've done a lot of praying and personal evaluation. I've reached the inevitable conclusion that I don't like this retreat that I've been on. In fact, I've been blind-sided time and again with emotional reminders that I am capable of compassion.

I got a few books for Christmas, sat in the living room through some sappy shows that my Mom was watching, and had some really good talks with friends I've known all my (or their) life. I realized that the front of put up is weak, cracked, and ready to come down. That's not to say I'll be perfect, but I'll probably be less callous, cynical, and irritable. Why?

One of the books I read, though entirely fiction, is based in fact. "Cross Country," by James Patterson is the most recent in the series of Alex Cross novels. In this particular novel, the psych profiler and detective find himself looking for a man with connections to Nigeria. His crimes in America have begun to echo common trends of murder and fear-induction that take place in Africa. As such, he travels to Africa to try and learn more, and perhaps catch the man. What ensues is a series of, and I emphasis this again, fictional events that include, kidnapping, rape, the murder of countless people - including children and entire families, and the recruitment of child soldiers. Things that actually happen, everyday, in places like Sierra Leone and Darfur. I've been aware of these things, from a cursory perspective, for a long time. But somehow, it took a fictionalized, brutal, and direct description to really get my attention. I found myself choking back sobs and tears while reading some of the things described. My imagine is far to vivid. And knowing that these things are a reality made my stomach turn.

The sappy show in question is "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," which my Mom tapes and watches when she gets the chance. Putting aside the cheesy nature of the show's execution, the payoff is still a good one. A team of designers and builders build a new home for a deserving family - often one with a history of either tragedy or goodness that has put them in a tough spot. One family suffered numerous debilitating injuries rendering a couple members - both the patriarch and youngest son - paralyzed from the waist down. Another family of 6 adopted 5 siblings to prevent them from being separated in the foster system. They lived in a 916 square foot house. Not so much anymore. These were pretty awesome. But the one that stuck with me the most was about a woman whose mother survived breast cancer. The woman herself has managed to raise around 500,000 dollars for Relay for Life in a town whose population doesn't exceed 1,000. She was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 days before a relay event, has undergone a bilateral masectomy, a histerectomy, and gained a lot of weight due to her chemotherapy. Her house is falling apart, and her family was unable to afford her medical bills. They built her a new home, and put on a huge habitat drive for them.

Why did this one hit me so hard? We'll return to that.

I have a friend who I grew up next to. We've been friends our whole life. He was here this winter break to visit family. We spent a good bit of time together, but the moment that will most stick with me was a conversation we had in my garage whilst waiting a rainstorm. We talked politics and religion - two topics I don't often discuss. His views differ from mine substantially. He is an extraordinarily Conservative 'fundamentalist' (for lack of a better term) Catholic. I'm a fairly moderate Christian who attends Catholic mass but thinks it all boils down to the basic tennets that all Christians hold true. He was wearing a shirt that said "straight pride" and was constantly ripping on illegal immigrants. I take a more neutral stance. But that's a thought for another time. I subscribe to the "love God, love others" idea, as I told him during the conversation. Then it struck me how little I'd been actually working that into my walk.

The conversation moved on to more somber issues. Like how his family was doing. His father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer May 2007. He passed away in April 2008. Then his grandfather was diagnosed with cancer in mid-2008. He passed away on New Year's Day 2009. This conversation took place before his grandfather's passing, but he was already on his last leg. Yet again I was faced with real-life events that drove home the seriousness and the pain that can be caused by something I always knew was around.


95 and 50.

Psalm 95: 7-8 (slightly abridged)

...Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts...

I can't say with utmost certainty that God has been speaking to me lately. I try to 'converse' with him more often lately. But these have been red flags chipping away at my heart. Clearly I've neglected things in my life up until now - especially when it has come to the things that effect other people in my life. I'm hoping to fix that.


So you've got 95. How about 50? Any guesses?

It wouldn't be something written by me if it were serious all the way through.

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" By Dr. Seuss
An excerpt from page 50:
"And the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!"

My heart feels full to bursting after this break and after the time spent with God. I'm looking forward to it continuing in the years to come.