I think sometimes people get ahead of themselves, wanting to change the world and all. There's a lot going on in the world today--protests, revolutions, whatever you want to call them, triggered by economics, unjust institutions of power, etc.--and I think it's inspiring to many people.
I suppose when I say "sometimes people" what I really mean is "sometimes I." Because it's true. There was a time when I was younger when I realized changing the world means changing MY world--that my life has such a limited reach into any greater context. I want to see things change so bad, I want to be a harbinger of justice to everyone, but I have to remember who I am and what I believe to be justice. Live and die with dignity, decide on your own, but think critically, what exactly that means--it's the only way to change your world.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
november & the souls
I remember you all and I still feel the love you poured out on this earth while you still could. Thank you.
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Saturday, October 30, 2010
Davis
I've been up in Davis having a ball, gettin' it done. Since I left, I've been worried about family & friends--mostly mom and Khanh, the one's who are most used to having me around.
Caught up in all the work and learning, I never quite got the chance to sit down and realize how much I miss everyone--which is a lot.
I suppose this ought to serve as motivation for me to study. I'll be home soon enough.
Caught up in all the work and learning, I never quite got the chance to sit down and realize how much I miss everyone--which is a lot.
I suppose this ought to serve as motivation for me to study. I'll be home soon enough.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
dreams of the father...
I've been having dreams about my Godfather two nights in a row. I'm not sure what my subconsciousness is trying to tell me, or perhaps what, in some mysterious way, God is reaching out to me.
The first dream gave me the sense that I was being protected by him... the dream itself is difficult to piece together because it was quite abstract.
This second dream was of him being around for a week. I don't know if this was postmortem or what, but Masaru (one of his best friends) and myself were angry that he'd only be around for a week. He and Masaru played a game of basketball to settle some kind of score, and I sat in my car listening to music and watching them play. He told me, "take it easy, Drew." After they finished the game, I tried to get them water from the trunk of my car but I ran out. I asked Jims what he planned to do the week he was still here, I can't remember what he said.
Take it easy, huh? I think it's time for me to sit down and really prepare myself for a new stage in my life instead of running around.
I wish I had some more recent pictures of him and I, I suppose there weren't too many. And then again, I suppose it'd be too much for me to look back in that way. His memory shall suffice.
The first dream gave me the sense that I was being protected by him... the dream itself is difficult to piece together because it was quite abstract.
This second dream was of him being around for a week. I don't know if this was postmortem or what, but Masaru (one of his best friends) and myself were angry that he'd only be around for a week. He and Masaru played a game of basketball to settle some kind of score, and I sat in my car listening to music and watching them play. He told me, "take it easy, Drew." After they finished the game, I tried to get them water from the trunk of my car but I ran out. I asked Jims what he planned to do the week he was still here, I can't remember what he said.
Take it easy, huh? I think it's time for me to sit down and really prepare myself for a new stage in my life instead of running around.
I wish I had some more recent pictures of him and I, I suppose there weren't too many. And then again, I suppose it'd be too much for me to look back in that way. His memory shall suffice.
Monday, March 15, 2010
brokenness
Sometimes, I sit and think about the brokenness of this world, that we live in. I become overwhelmed by the gravity and magnitude of this world's issues. I just probe my mind, seeking answers.
Then I think, "it's time to sleep, tomorrow's another day."
I think many of us have a deep desire to dry the tears of others, to be that warm embrace for all those lost and cold. Each day, we have the opportunity. Take charge of it.
Then I think, "it's time to sleep, tomorrow's another day."
I think many of us have a deep desire to dry the tears of others, to be that warm embrace for all those lost and cold. Each day, we have the opportunity. Take charge of it.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Love, reign o'er me...
I had just finished cleaning up my classroom and returned the attendance sheet at Sister's office, pretty much on the opposite side of the church where I had parked my car. As I was leaving the school yard, the rain started to pour. With each couple of steps I took, it got more violent, heavy. I didn't have an umbrella, so I ran to the church.
In the back of my mind I was thinking that I should stay for confession--half an hour away. I thought that, by some chance, maybe God was drawing me closer. I am not usually that superstitious. I mean, often times I see how one uncontrollable event leads me to another, I just usually (at least publicly) go along and not question whether things turned out that way because of God, or fate, or what have you.
I have to say, I now deeply believe I was meant to walk into that church, that day. When I got in, there was a homeless man sitting at the piano, being scolded by our Pastor. The homeless man was told to leave, else the police were contacted to take him away. The homeless man kept asking "isn't a church supposed to be a sanctuary? what time is your service, I thought mass was at 5:30 and 7:30?" One of our Vietnamese deacons came by and scolded the man much more harshly than the Pastor, who at least tried to stay calm (if not just cold and indifferent).
There was a boy in the church with his parents. A young Vietnamese teenager. It appeared as if he wanted to stop the Pastor, but his parents kept holding him back and saying something to him. The Pastor finally called the police (actually the sheriff), and walked away. No longer berated, the man began to play the piano.
The man was a tall black male, he had a beard and mustache, with a big afro. He was wearing fatigues, or at least camo pants, a large dirt and sweat stained white t-shirt, he had a military hat that matched his pants, and a green jacket, almost a wind breaker. Sitting next to the pews near the piano were two bags of milk and bread. He had a gentle demeanor, and played beautifully, if a bit choppy as if he had been long out of practice.
The song he played resembled his person quite a bit. At times dark and mysterious, but also gentle and slightly rusty. I could only speculate as to who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up here. I sat and listened to his song, up until this point not saying a word.
I did not know what to do or say. I knew I was witnessing a great injustice, not only to this fair tempered man, but to God's House. Just then, an alter server placed something on the alter, turned around, and bowed to the cross. At that point, I got up and called the boy's attention. I told him he was supposed to bow to the alter. I explained how significant the alter is. After all, the cross is just a statue of Christ crucified, but at the alter is where, alive, he gave himself up, and at the alter where he is alive once more.
At that moment, I remembered table fellowship, and knew what I wanted to say to the homeless man. I sat down and continued to listen to his song, until the time came when the sheriff would soon be at the church. I got up and asked him if he had lunch yet, if he wanted to go eat with me. He only looked at me once, closed his eyes, smiled, and looked forward. I don't know if he smiled out of joy or disdain for me. I pleaded, saying I would rather take him out to eat, then to have the police force him out. This time, he didn't look at me.
As I ran out of things to say, I stepped back, looked outside, and the sheriff had just arrived. The man finished his song, got up, took his bags and walked out the door, greeting the sheriffs.
"On your way out?" they had asked.
"Yeap," he replied. He walked away quite quickly. I still wanted to eat with this man, to hear his story. I cut through the church to catch up to his quick pace. I asked him again if he'd eat with me, again he just looked at me once, smiled, and kept moving forward. In the heat of the moment, I was at a loss for words, not knowing what else to say. I walked with him to the edge of the church grounds, where he cut away and went down Beach Blvd.
A flood of emotion and things I wanted to tell him hit me. I knew how stupid it might seem for me to go after him, at least to a parent who would worry about my safety. I wanted to tell him, I'm not stupid, nor did I pity him. I just wanted to know him. As I started walking back to my car, defeated, I thought once again that it could not just end this way.
Getting in my car, I heard this song on the radio. It was Bettye Lavette singing The Who's Love Reign O'er Me live on NPR. I began to drive around looking for the man, thinking if he saw my persistence he might sit down with me. I couldn't find him. I had parked my car in a lot down in the direction he was walking to get out and look for him, to no avail.
I began to wonder why I wanted so bad to talk to him, and what I could possibly gain from the experience. I guess it came down to this:
Can I really make a difference in this world? How? Am I just a fool, flailing around before my own time is up?
I guess I'll have to find the answer some other way.... Anyhow, enjoy Bettye's beautiful rendition of the song, if you hadn't already began playing it:
In the back of my mind I was thinking that I should stay for confession--half an hour away. I thought that, by some chance, maybe God was drawing me closer. I am not usually that superstitious. I mean, often times I see how one uncontrollable event leads me to another, I just usually (at least publicly) go along and not question whether things turned out that way because of God, or fate, or what have you.
I have to say, I now deeply believe I was meant to walk into that church, that day. When I got in, there was a homeless man sitting at the piano, being scolded by our Pastor. The homeless man was told to leave, else the police were contacted to take him away. The homeless man kept asking "isn't a church supposed to be a sanctuary? what time is your service, I thought mass was at 5:30 and 7:30?" One of our Vietnamese deacons came by and scolded the man much more harshly than the Pastor, who at least tried to stay calm (if not just cold and indifferent).
There was a boy in the church with his parents. A young Vietnamese teenager. It appeared as if he wanted to stop the Pastor, but his parents kept holding him back and saying something to him. The Pastor finally called the police (actually the sheriff), and walked away. No longer berated, the man began to play the piano.
The man was a tall black male, he had a beard and mustache, with a big afro. He was wearing fatigues, or at least camo pants, a large dirt and sweat stained white t-shirt, he had a military hat that matched his pants, and a green jacket, almost a wind breaker. Sitting next to the pews near the piano were two bags of milk and bread. He had a gentle demeanor, and played beautifully, if a bit choppy as if he had been long out of practice.
The song he played resembled his person quite a bit. At times dark and mysterious, but also gentle and slightly rusty. I could only speculate as to who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up here. I sat and listened to his song, up until this point not saying a word.
I did not know what to do or say. I knew I was witnessing a great injustice, not only to this fair tempered man, but to God's House. Just then, an alter server placed something on the alter, turned around, and bowed to the cross. At that point, I got up and called the boy's attention. I told him he was supposed to bow to the alter. I explained how significant the alter is. After all, the cross is just a statue of Christ crucified, but at the alter is where, alive, he gave himself up, and at the alter where he is alive once more.
At that moment, I remembered table fellowship, and knew what I wanted to say to the homeless man. I sat down and continued to listen to his song, until the time came when the sheriff would soon be at the church. I got up and asked him if he had lunch yet, if he wanted to go eat with me. He only looked at me once, closed his eyes, smiled, and looked forward. I don't know if he smiled out of joy or disdain for me. I pleaded, saying I would rather take him out to eat, then to have the police force him out. This time, he didn't look at me.
As I ran out of things to say, I stepped back, looked outside, and the sheriff had just arrived. The man finished his song, got up, took his bags and walked out the door, greeting the sheriffs.
"On your way out?" they had asked.
"Yeap," he replied. He walked away quite quickly. I still wanted to eat with this man, to hear his story. I cut through the church to catch up to his quick pace. I asked him again if he'd eat with me, again he just looked at me once, smiled, and kept moving forward. In the heat of the moment, I was at a loss for words, not knowing what else to say. I walked with him to the edge of the church grounds, where he cut away and went down Beach Blvd.
A flood of emotion and things I wanted to tell him hit me. I knew how stupid it might seem for me to go after him, at least to a parent who would worry about my safety. I wanted to tell him, I'm not stupid, nor did I pity him. I just wanted to know him. As I started walking back to my car, defeated, I thought once again that it could not just end this way.
Getting in my car, I heard this song on the radio. It was Bettye Lavette singing The Who's Love Reign O'er Me live on NPR. I began to drive around looking for the man, thinking if he saw my persistence he might sit down with me. I couldn't find him. I had parked my car in a lot down in the direction he was walking to get out and look for him, to no avail.
I began to wonder why I wanted so bad to talk to him, and what I could possibly gain from the experience. I guess it came down to this:
Can I really make a difference in this world? How? Am I just a fool, flailing around before my own time is up?
I guess I'll have to find the answer some other way.... Anyhow, enjoy Bettye's beautiful rendition of the song, if you hadn't already began playing it:
Friday, February 19, 2010
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