Back from the dead...? Or still dead.

Hello faithful readers.

It has been so long. The only reason I'm actually back here writing is because tonight I saw my cousin Beth (who immediately made me do the secret cousin handshake) who reminded me about my blog.

"I have a blog?" I thought... "Well it seems I do..."

I always convince myself that my blog is a place where I am candid and real. And then I go back into my dashboard and realize that the really real blogs have been saved simply as drafts and were never posted. So the only reader that finds them is me. And I'm the one that wrote them. So I guess I was just doing private journaling or something since I never posted. Next time I'll try to remember to write my private ranting in my actual Notebook of Secrets, inside of pretending that I want the whole world to know what's scampering around inside my misshaped head.

Or maybe I do.

Maybe half of you know Me. The real me. The me that doesn't have it all together, pretends to be the "good little Christian kid" who never misses a beat, the kid who likes to think that he knows right from wrong and always does the first, the kid who so wishes that he would have never tried to be any of those things, since all of them are impossible and can drive you to a) insanity, or b) apostasy, which usually walk hand in hand.

Ever had your life explode? I have. Somewhere, sometime a while back there was some damn invisible fuse that was lit and quickly burned it's way right into the center of my Life. And why oh why didn't I notice it? Or maybe I noticed it but why didn't I care? Anyway, then, just when I thought everything was under control, my life was moving in a wonderful direction that I had a good amount of control over, just when I was happy and confident that things were swinging my way.... BOOM. I find myself barely standing, covered in soot, smoldering, and trying desperately to cling to the tiny, crumbling bits that represented... everything. Literally, everything.

For the past 4 weeks I have felt like Simon Birch. There is a scene where, in a devastating turn of events he ends up killing his best friends mother by accident. Shortly after the camera following the pitiful little fellow running as fast as possible out onto the long dock, looking out over the chilly waters of the ocean. Simon stops and simply yells, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" And turns around, shouting his pain onto no one... onto God, I guess. He is alone and devastated and the only thing his broken heart can scream is, "I'm sorry!"

For the past 4 weeks I have felt like that... like poor little Simon. Wondering, "Why me?" and so desperately wanting to run away into some cold desolate place and yell to a God who doesn't seem to answer... "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

And a piece of my heart thinks that if I could pay enough penence I could have my life back. That God would look down and say, "Jeremy - this was just a test! The bomb didn't detonate! You have been spared!" And suddenly I would have been transported backwards and life would reset. And I would be happy... oh, I would be happy.

But I am reminded about last January as I toasted in the new year with some close friends and brothers of mine. Each of us stood and raised his glass, toasting a personal thought to the new year. I remember the day clearly since I knew exactly what I should say. Without even realizing the impact or meaning of what I was saying I stood, raised my glass and said,

"Here's to trading in happiness for joy."

And so I am granted my hearts desire.

But there is more... more to this story, and more (I pray) to come in the future.

"When he heard this, Jesus said, "This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." John 11:4

Long time no post!

On top of the Crosslake fire tower...

The Heavenly Man

I just finished reading the book The Heavenly Man by Brother Yun. I have never read a book like this before... it has completely changed what I think about suffering and Christianity. Lately (as I read the Bible and books like The Heavenly Man) I have seen more and more clearly that love and pain are intermingled... in fact, they flow so closely together that they are inseparable. What American Christianity has done so thoroughly is separated love from pain. And the result is.... well... look at the modern church. It is filled with "rule-abiding" good people who are deathly fearful, driven by the opinions of the world, weak, often addicted, and silently full of rage at a God who is supposed to alleviate their pain, but won't.

Pain and Love. Perfect twins, gracefully extended to us as a way to find wholeness through Christ Jesus.

Since working in a ministry that reaches weak and broken men and women, I have come to realize that the majority of the church (me included!) is weak and broken, too. There are few differences that separate them. It doesn't matter if it is a former gay prostitute (who is a good friend of mine) or a youth pastor who is addicted to not only his youth ministry, but porn too. In fact, the church does little to help this youth pastor. It drives him further into isolation, into his lonely prayer closet, into another leadership and integrity class, down deeper into his pit of self until he feels so spiritually dark and insane that he goes off the deep end, dives head-first into sexual immorality and shocks the Christian world. Then the church shakes its head in sad disbelief wondering, “What went wrong with that guy!”

I was reading in Colossians 2:20-23 the other day and found my answer to the problem above. It is so clear and simple that it is practically baffling! Read it.

What the...

Tonight as I drove home from Mindy's new apartment (which is soooo nice, by the way) I was nearing home when I looked to the side of the road and saw.... OHMYGOSH!...

..AN ARMADILLO CHEWING ON A BRIGHT ORANGE STICK!!!!!..

Or wait... no. No, I was wrong. It was actually...

..A sand bag sitting on a knocked-down construction sign.

Hmm.

I didn't think we had many armadillo around here.

Final Conclusions...

As of this last Thursday (this was written a while ago just never finished!) I am no longer working for the YMCA... I am moving on to the next chapter of life, into a new position with a ministry in Robbinsdale. Anyway, I wanted to write about the things I have learned in the past year... working with 5 and 6-year-olds has sure been a fun and crazy ride! So, I have come to these 4 final conclusions:

1. Kids' imaginations come alive in the bathroom. As I sat outside the door for countless hours, I would see small hands tracing lines on the floor, little girls hair hanging down being swung around, and hear soft singing and storytelling. Always was I chuckling. My favorite memory about the bathroom comes from last summer, when as I walked by the bathroom I heard a small excited voice say, "It's as big as a candy bar!"

2. Kids love Crocs. Crocs are the new rage in footwear... molded from foamy-type material that are almost indestructable. And most kids aren't satisfied with black or blue Crocs... they perfer wild neon colors that you can see from 40 miles off. Anyway, Crocs disgust me, but kids love 'em.

3. Little girls have an inborn desire to do their nails, brush or comb hair, shop, and chase boys (quite literally at this age).

4. Little boys have an inborn desire to avoid little girls, shoot guns, and be dirty. My favorite example came from little Max - when I came across him pouring a large bucket of sand over his head just for fun.

I leave with great sadness - a job that I have truely loved has come to an end. To my fellow employess, I will miss you. To you little tykes, I will miss you too....... I won't miss being dirty or having your snot on my shirt or 16 kinds of germs on my hands or you sneezing in my eyes or peeing your pants but I will miss you!

the June bug.

I dislike June bugs... probably more than any other insect. They bat against the windows, buzz towards any light, and in my case, fly in open car windows to lounge on my dashboard.

I slammed on my breaks, put on my hazards and swiftly exited the car. There on my dashboard sat a fat, black, bumbling June bug with about as much intelligence as a grain of sand. My narrowed eyes watched it's every move as I reached into my back seat to grab a drum stick. Figuring I would smash it into oblivion so I could be on my way, I brought the stick down hard, but only succeeded in wounding it slightly... then, to make things worse, it stumbled down into my defrost vent were it remains to this day.

The next morning I found a black bird sitting on my winshield, pecking away as it had seen a tasty treat. Walking up to this bold, treat-seeking bird I was surprised that it didn't fly away. It looked at me, looked down, and continued it's hunt, jumping along the front of car as if in hot pursuit. I offered to open the door so he could go inside to get his lunch, but he turned me down and flew away. Darn.

I arrived back home a few hours later only to find the same bird waiting for me. He was a little confused, I must admit, as he was sitting on my sister's Saturn and not mine. I quickly motioned that he was looking in he wrong car, and he flew over to mine. I went inside to let him to his thing, and hoped that he would find that rouge June bug and leave me and my car in peace.

Well, I had assumed that the hunt had been succesful. But last night as I drove home, I heard a slight buzzing chirp coming from my defrost vent. Could it be that he had started a new life in my vent, and planned to raise a family there? I was hoping the air conditioning would drive him out, and perhaps it had only cooled, calmed, and invited him to stay.

Oh, what to do, what to do...

A Letter...From My Heart...

Dear Professor Ligocki,

Well, it has been an interesting semester, to say the least. I wanted to drop you this letter to express my deep thanks for the way you made Ancient Philosophy just BURST alive for me. The way you talked about Empedocles made me want to leap into the air, grasp my hands to my heart and fall romantically into a pile of soft pillows.

When I think back on the semester, I smile. I remember on the third day of class when I was seriously freaking out... and I came to you after class to get help. I remember our conversation went something like this:

"I am really worried about the tests in this class since I'm not really understanding the book.."

"Oh I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Umm... well, I'm not really understanding the readings... are the tests on the readings only?"

"....yes."

"......................"

".............................."

"..........I'm just still not understanding what's going on.."

"Make it a great day."

Yeah, that was SOOOOOO helpful when you said, "Make it a great day" and then left. After that my day was so incredibly GREAT! And my attitude toward your class was awesome... and after that my grades really soared.

So, in closing I'd like to thank you for a great semester. I look forward to NEVER EVER taking another class with you for the rest of my life.

Oh, and make it a great day.

Jeremy S Dahlen

That Kid: Part III Addendum

Instead of writing another paper like I should be doing, I decided to put an addendum onto my last That Kid posting.

That Kid Part III: "End of the Semester Kid"

End of the Semester Kid only comes out the last few weeks of the semester. It is the kid who has been in your class for the whole semester and you had no idea. Suddenly you see EOTSK leaving class a little early or coming in a little late you say to yourself, "Who the heck is that?" The reason you act so surprised is because you have never EVER seen that kid in your life, and yet he or she has been in the class with you for the entire semester. It's even extra surprising when that kid takes his seat - only three seats over from yours. How could you have missed them??

Sometimes End of the Semester Kid is in more than one of your classes. In one class you talk quite a bit with them, and yet in the other class you don't know they exist. Hopefully they don't think you are shafting them on purpose, because you aren't... you simply haven't noticed that they sit right next to you... shoot.

As I near the end of this semester, I'm noticing quite a few EOTSKs walking around. In fact, it's a little aggravating because it reminds me of high school. On the day of graduation I walked up to several people whom I had never seen before. We looked at each other, pointed, and said in unison, "You go here??" Then we stared at each other, not knowing what to say... so we just congratulated each other, tossed our tassels to the side, and walked away.

Grumble Grumble

I just got home (midnight) and since I was totally famished, I did something barbaric. I fried myself a huge panfull of bacon, then cooked a giant batch of pancakes in that same bacon grease. It was AMAZING but I kind of feel a heart attack coming on

I love my job!

I love getting paid to have fun... It's fun!

death.

I am haunted by my past, and inspired by my future.  

I am traumatized by what has been, and full of hope for the things to come.  

I have tasted death, cloaked in darkness.  And I have tasted life, wrapped in light.  

I have done things that have crucified my God, and yet have been redeemed by that very death.  

I have been given more than I could ever think to ask for, and have been seen as a son.

I have been plagued by black dreams, then thrown aside in shame.

And I have a song sung over me as I sleep, a river of love pouring out and surrounding me.  

I have known such hopelessness, and have found such hope.

I have crossed the line so many times, condemning myself for not hitting the mark.

I have done to myself what I have hated others for, pointed my own malicious finger in my own face.  

I would easily count myself out of any reward, gift, or even smile.  


I have left friends for dead, and laughed at their misery.  

I have assumed that I know best, everyone else is behind the times, and God is old-fashioned.  

I look at myself and think, "Wow!" and look at others and think, "Sad!"  

I think of myself as the most clean, even though I find myself staring up from the sewer.  


I float over the heads of my fellow believers, wondering why they refuse to fly.  

...And then I look up from the floor wondering why everyone is walking on me.  

I kneel at the church alter, basking in my own humility, and consider how few follow and act as humble as I.


I like to think of God in a glass box, and when I feel unhappy I can let a little of him out.  I like to think that the box is small, non-threatening, and in my control.  

I also like to think that even though I keep the box, I don't really need it.  In fact, it needs me.


Sometimes when I'm depressed or angry, I run to Him for help.

Then, when help comes running, I pat myself on the back, thoroughly impressed at my own faith and ability to seek and find.  

I wonder why others have so many problems.


I like to break the rules sometimes.  But it's not that bad when I do it.  

That's just the way it is.  

Besides, God knows me too well to think too long and hard about my sin.

I find myself getting bored with others - especially when they drone on about themselves.  I can't wait for them to stop so I can finally say something interesting.


I read the Bible and think of it as mostly an analogy.  Then I wonder why I'm experiencing the very things I've prayed for.

I once prayed to die.  And I did... I found myself crushed to the floor.
I once prayed to mourn.  And the sorrow was too deep for tears.
I once prayed for joy.  And I received joy, not happiness.


God, you don't get it!  What I meant was this:

I pray for death:  You show me a scripture about YOU dying.
I pray to mourn:  I consider how painful life could be, and receive your comfort.
I pray for joy:  You give me what I want.


God, why aren't you concerned with what I want?  Isn't that the purpose of knowing you?  So that you can give me the desires of my heart?  And make my cup overflow?  And give me an abundance that no storehouse could hold?  


But You are not an analogy - no!


Forgive me for praying to the idea of you.
Forgive me for thinking that I can keep you under my thumb.
Forgive me for placing my plan of how you will work, over your plan of how you will work.

Crucify me, Lord! I ask for death... for only death can bring life.

Ohhh!

This was downtown today. How would you like to dig that sucker out??

That Kid: Part III

“On Dasher! on Dancer! on Prancer and Vixen! on Dropper girl! Surfer kid! Drawing Kid and Blitzen!”

Come one, come all! Gather to hear the tales of a new semester, surrounded with creatures that elude even the most vivid imaginations… new species just discovered; thought by many to be non-existent. Feared by men – sought after by explorers - discovered by me…

…Welcome to That Kid: Part III

Coughing Kid:

I thought long and hard about this name. The Kid I’m referring to does more than make strange coughing noises. He actually makes gagging noises… noises so strange that even the professor sometimes stops his lecture and looks at him like “What the…?” So maybe “Gagging Kid” is better… but I don’t know. Anyway, Cougher-Gagger seems pretty unfazed by his turret-like coughing/gagging outbursts, and will look up through his dirty lenses with a look that says, “What? Did I miss something?” Maybe he doesn’t even realize that he does it… we’ll probably never know.

But as his classmate I have learned to look past the coughing, into the true Cougher… past the phlegm, snot, spittle and lunch residue. I’ve seen a deeper, truer heart, revealed after I mentioned one day that I was hungry. He quickly pulled out a Rice Crispy Bar from his backpack and eagerly offered it to me. …and I’ve liked the kid ever since.

Popular Girl Kid:

Popular Girl Kid is in the same class with Cougher and I. In fact, me and P-Girl are pretty tight… she listened to music on iTunes next to me in a class last semester. But this semester, PG’s popularity has blossomed (in her imagination.) She comes to class late, and is often heard replying with “…what?” to every question. Her tight, fashionable clothing and curled flowing hair reveal where her true beauty lies: in her closet. The other day in class, the entire side of my classroom was waiting for her to finish signing in on the attendance sheet (you would not believe how long it took her to make a small “x” by her name…) when she looked up and said, “Has everyone gotten this?” In unison we all replied with a loud, “No.” She look in our general direction, but only seeing small unpopular, under-trendy, smelly imps, she said, “Oh, OK” then set the clipboard down and walked out of the room, brain cells falling as she walked, leaving a trail out the door. We all stood there, dumbfounded, humiliated that we were so invisible. (Or not humiliated at all.)

I will finish my dialogue on Poppy-G by saying that I was thoroughly assured of her idiocy when a few weeks back I caught her shouting the F word in the halls of my very Christian University. But I digress…

Monotone Kid:

I’m realizing as I type this, 3 of the 4 kids I am addressing are in the SAME class! There must be some socio-cultural reason for this. But I will have to save that for another time, when I have more time to do better research.
Let us press on, into the deeply reverberating vocal cords of Monotone Kid. Monotone Kid’s voice has two tones: lower, and lower but out of tune. He uses them both simultaneously. Often Monotone Kid lulls his innocent classmates to sleep, even when answers or asking a simple question. The drone of his voice has the effect of white noise in a warm room… pretty soon all thought gos frm yr haed andu jsutsleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee………………………………’ep[k

cough, sputter…

Sorry about that. Where was I? (I love power naps!) Ah yes, Monokid. Monotone Kid is quite brash in class. He actually sits in the front row while wearing an earbud in his right ear. Since I sit behind him, I can see that while he sometimes takes notes, he usually just plays with his album artwork on iTunes, plays a rousing game of chess, or just tinkers around with his various programs. But what’s especially interesting about MK is that he does engage in the class – asking quite intellectual questions (I don’t understand them so I assume they are smart) all the while listening to his music. Quite remarkable!

Now that we have covered these 3 (all in one class!) let’s move on to one of the most annoying kids as of yet.

Gravelly-Voice Kid:

There are two Gravelly-Voice Kids in this spring semester (in two different classes, thank goodness.) One is a man, and one is a woman. Both eat fish-tank gravel for breakfast every morning, followed by a juice-glass full of playground sand. That way, by the time they arrive to class, their voices have the most gravelly-sounding grunge that I have EVER heard. Anytime they talk, the surrounding classmates instinctively grasp their throats and begin to clear them loudly, as if they have something to cough up. I don’t mean to be stereotypical, but I hold to the belief that Gravelly-Voice Kids are always outspoken, constantly asking or answering questions. In fact, it has been documented that in certain high-conversation areas, actual gravel has been left behind on the desk after the class period. In this case, the custodial staff has a certain procedure they follow (nicknamed “Code Gravel”.) Although Gravelly-Voice Kids are usually friendly, most people that meet them have the immediate desire to reach down their throat, pull out the 12 pounds of fish-tank gravel, the 50-pound Sam’s Club bag of playground sand, and remaining rocks and various corals, boulders, and rocky crags, so they can have a normal conversation.

This semester’s kids are SOOOOO interesting! Have you come across any new and exciting breeds of Kid? If so, let's hear about them!

Adios for now.

Concert!

Today all of my kind. and 1st graders had their concert. It was fun and they sang VERY loudly (and with no melody really.)

Bright Feet

This year I received one of the most unique and uselessly cool gifts ever. Bright Feet - slippers that look pretty normal, but each house a bright white LED light that illumines when the lights go down. "Perfect for checking up on the kids, night time errands, or midnight snacks" boasts the box. (Although I have not yet taken them out for a late-night errand, I did shine one the slippers into my eye today to check if there was something wrong with my contact.)

Bright Feet are a hit! Look what people are saying:

"Bright Feet make me feel safe and secure around the house. I know I can count on their top-quality design and reliability to light up the dark garage at night." -Linda, SD.

"A couple of weeks ago our new kitten ran away. Luckily, each member of my family had just received a pair of Bright Feet slippers. Racing outside with our Bright Feet on, our front yard grew awash in light, and we found our kitty hiding under the minivan." Don, CA

"Bright Feet saved our marriage." -Sue and Keith Jorgenson, NY

"Bright Feet keep me and my family safe. Last year I woke up one night only to realize we were being robbed. I snatched up my Bright Feet, threw them on and raced downstairs. The burglars looked up in shock to see two bright beams coming their way and panicked, dropping our valuables and running away." -Doug, PA

"For years I've struggle with back pain... only Bright Feet lighted slippers have given me the confidence I need to walk boldly down the hall in the middle of the night, without wondering if I'll step on the dog and re-injure my back." -Pat, KA

Available now! Bright Feet lighted slippers!

In the library.

Why are my eyes so glimmery? They look like puppy eyes to me.

Mindy and Molly.

Starbucks.

Me right now at Starbucks!

In Question...

Here are some questions that people have been emailing me about my blog:

1. Hey Jeremy, what's up with all the small pictures you have been posting?
Well, I just figured out how to post directly from my cell phone to my blog, so all the these smaller pictures you see (that sometimes don't have a title) are coming direct from my phone.

2. Jeremy: why are you so dang cool?
Really good question, friend. I'm not really sure why I'm so cool, but I just am.

3. How come you haven't posted any semi-funny blogs recently? Everything seems so heavy and boring.
Well, that's true. Life has been hard lately, but luckily I'm doing better. God is really bringing me into a place where I can see light on the horizon! But I promise to get back to the stupid pointless blogs soon.

4. Hey, how come dogs are better than cats?
There are too many reasons for me to list, so I'll just write down the top 3: they like you, they don't act as though they are better than you, and they wag their tails with happiness when they see you.

5. Are these questions actually from real people or what?
I'm sorry, I cannot acquiesce to your requst.

6. Hey Jerbidy, what is the funniest thing you have ever had happen to you at work?
Hmm... probably the time this totally mini kid (who weighs like 10 pounds) told me in this high voice that he was eating a biscotti.

Wild Wild West.

This is me, you varmin. Taken when I worked for the Toro Co.

My Name.

My kindergarteners have now changed my name from 'Jomy' to 'Jerbidy'. I wonder what it will be next?

Potatoe Face

This was at the wedding with the skanky dj. I was about to take a bite of cheesey potatoe when I looked down to see this sad little face looking up at me from my fork.

Today is Good.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot never not. I cannot, not. I am trying to lay my analytical mind to rest as I try to convince myself that I will never be “there”, since being “there” asserts the lie that I am in the wrong place right now.

I have been struggling with that, too. I feel like right now I am in such a sorrowful, pitiful place where I rarely do what is right, and God is just putting up with me until I finally somehow step up and grow up and get it. But that is actually a LIE, and I have finally begun to identify it. The cross of Christ is holistic, right? It’s not only for my sin but also for my body, mind, and everything I am or ever will be. It is all-inclusive, and it didn’t miss anything. There is no part left unredeemed or ignored. But I find myself getting so down on myself for not being good at everything right now. I feel like I’m always on my tiptoes, straining to see what is up ahead at where I “should be”.

The tactic is genius, really. If the devil can get Christians to think about themselves as below-par (compared to other Christians) and way behind, they will never embrace the grace given them. They will never take up their spiritual weapons, and they will never find freedom. They will be stuck in that sticky mud I just got out of, wallowing in their anxious thoughts and feeling inferior to everyone else. They will be stuck, feeling as if God has forgotten them (along with everyone here on earth) and they are the ones that have the problem. And slowly their faith drains away until the only thing that is left is a binding religion that pulls them into a bondage that’s almost worse than sin.

But if the “now” is OK… if the struggle of today is actually even good… well then, that changes the whole story. If it’s good, then I can hunker down with my Bible, open it up, and expect that the promises be redeemed for me now, the way I am here, in the place of dirt and grit. I don’t have to worry about cleaning up my act before the promises will ring true for me. Didn’t God say that it was the sick that needed a doctor? Jesus did not come and die for the people who were well. He came during the sickness, in the darkest hour of death, and then offered life. If God’s promises were only for those who were totally healthy, then the Bible is for no one, because all have fallen short.

Now this is freeing: That all of Christ, all that he has offered, is for now. Right now. Doom and gloom got you down? Is depression lurking outside your door? Addiction always got your attention? You are welcome here, friend. Welcomed to the place of here and now, where the grace flows and the doctor waits. He is the God of today, because tomorrow never comes. And he carries with him the river that is sparkling and refreshing. The river that runs so clear that nothing can make it dirty. We can splash and play in it, and it stays as perfect as the day it was offered.

Welcome home to today, for today is good... really good.

Dad @ Wedding

Come Home

I came home tonight... Henri Nouwen says it best in his book "The Inner Voice of Love":

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Come Home

"There are two realities to which you must cling. First, God has promised that you will recieve the love you have been searching for. And second, God is faithful to that promise.

"So stop wandering around. Instead, come home and trust that God will bring you what you need. Your whole life you have been running about, seeking the love you desire. Now it is time to end that search. Trust that God will give you that all-fullfilling love and will give it in a human way. Before you die, God will offer you the deepest satisfaction you can desire. Just stop running and start trusting and recieving.

"Home is where you are truly safe. It is where you can recieve what you desire. You need human hands to hold you there so you don't run away again. But when you come home and stay home, you will find the love that will bring rest to your heart."

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