I've been trying to figure out why my head's always in fifty directions at once sometimes. In the ministry that I do my best to perform, I try to be strict with focus for myself and the team I help mediate, and that creates good results. In my own free time and work (mostly school-work) time, however, I find myself okay with high multi-tasking, little focus, and mediocre work. I think I need to learn a new way of leisure.
It may be a failed experiment soon enough, but I think that it's necessary to start making all, or at least most, of my leisure time into learning time for things that I am wanting to know on the side of my main focuses in life.
A few examples , maybe:
I am a musician, not an amazing one, but one nonetheless, and it's something I enjoy, however, I find my personal talents and gifts are more appropriately used when geared towards something where I'm leading others through figuring out systems, getting new ideas for flow of ministry, et cetera, and not creating music that is altogether not great. Don't get me wrong, I'm quite sure I could make fantastic music with practice, as I think most could, but I'm finding the lack in me for passion.
It's the same with me wanting to cultivate a good singing voice, not great, but good, but I am bad at it presently and lack the passion to trudge through the work that is required to acquire such a talent, and it's not my gift set.
It's the same with drawing, except I am much worse at that,
or learning guitar,
or knowing more about computer's hardware and software, being able to become the ultra-programmer.
I think it's time to make those things my leisure activities, instead of making my leisure wasted time cultivating something against what I am trying to create in myself. Then I can leave these activities out of my focus for all other time in my life. My life can become focused on what I need to be focused on if I want to do the completely crazy and amazing things that I know God has asked me to do and hope I am prepared to do.
I've been watching my best friend, Jordan Britton, do this for years without realizing that I should be doing it too. I think his parents did a wonderful job showing him how to be productive, all he needs sometimes is to learn or be able to rest.
I am the opposite. I am a pro at resting. I can rest three weeks away, but only get myself to work for a small amount of time. What if I turned my resting into contructive, yet restful and peaceful, time for myself? I would not only be a sufficient person withing the parameters of my own and others hopes, but a well accomplished person within the parameters of my own self-interest that do not involve my higher ambitions.
Anyway, I just remembered that I need to make myself learn within leisure, rest within work, and become the person that Jesus ultimately wants me to be. Thank you for making me happier, God. You truly do make me that way, and have never failed to in the end.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I just wrote this for my Junior Portfolio (essays in english class)
I thought it was fairly good, and thought it would be good to share.
Luke Stoltzfoos
English 3, Block 4
Junior Portfolio
11.11.09
My Oasis
An Oasis, defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “something that provides refuge, relief, or pleasant contrast.” I really like that word – contrast. It shows how I feel about an oasis. Sometimes, my oasis is somewhere covered with people, because it's different. Sometimes, I gather strength from the most quiet, desolate, and calm region I can find. A crazier oasis for me is whenever I run. I feel peace when forcing my body to do strenuous activity, especially when alone. I search these all out to form a oasis of sorts. In a way, my oasis is everywhere that differs from the norm.
A huge, crazy, thunderdome is a portion of my oasis. It's different from the everyday, clearly, but what else is there is hidden. I mean this literally, the oasis I find within large stadiums is not within the focus on the games or activities, but rather the lack of focus on me. Within a stadium or a room full of people, I can hide, think, contemplate, without many interruptions. I'm not sure there's been a time where I have been in a large group without doing one of my favorite past-times: people watching. An art that has been passed down from my mother, that is. I love to study behavior, find out why people do the things they do. I have a friend, for instance, that was once extremely apologetic for not saying thank you for a ride home. I noticed it was something he really hung on to until he was satisfied, not until the person in the car was satisfied, but further. This friend's dad has not been involved too heavily in the friend's life, and whatever the dad says, the friend idolizes. I then decided that his dad probably told him not to forget that at one point. That is the kind of people watching I enjoy. Studying why and how they became who they are. That creates an oasis in my mind. A world of imaginative reality. There are few things better.
I share part of my oasis, which I believe is everywhere, because everyday is different, as well as every situation, with others. The most common oasis I think I see is the quiet, calm, and collected place. Where everything can be in the order you want it, and everything there is something you want to be. My room is a huge oasis for me. It's where I watch my movies, answer my e-mails and messages, often I eat my food there, and it creates a living space that no one else shares or knows of. It's a place where my deep thoughts can be thought without fear of someone saying “What are you thinking about?”. I think that's incredibly important to my being – some place I can think quietly without fear. I can talk to God without any interruption, which is the most important thing there is. I can seek him and ask to hear from him, and I, thankfully, get answers quite a bit. Sometimes I think that he might just love me a little bit =]. I love my room, my space, and my quiet places. They are of dear importance to my spiritual and emotional well-being, which are quite linked.
The least understood part of my oasis is the running. When I push my body to the edge and one step further, you don't realize the cloud I fall into. Eventually, after the first few miles, its like I've run straight off of a cliff, and my legs move without any fussy complain like pain or muscle pulling. My muscles simply decide they are done feeling for the next hour, and continue to move for me. That oasis of movement without feeling is a sensation that hard work can bring. Hard work is such an oasis sometimes. Especially work like running, it's monotonous, but only if you do nothing but run. Running is not so I can get in shape all the time, or win a race. Running is my way of thought process. Running is a way to grow and expand my thought processes. My brain needs to work hard, and running makes my mind crystal clear in a way that a thunderdome or a quiet place never could. I can't hear others easily when running. I can hear my feet pounding, my chest heaving, my breath rate rising. I need that repetition. When all is repetitive, and all is continuous, my thoughts flow like nothing else. Movement is insanely necessary for strong though. Even I, the running lover, underestimate the power that physical stress has over you. When you control your body in such a way that whips it past pain and strengthens you like crazy, it makes you stronger emotionally. You've learned that control physically, and it does continue over. Many people without physical control lack emotional control, and vice versa. My grandparents amaze me in this way. My grandmother, “Grammy”, now 65, still makes us all food and clears brush at their cabin, while my grandfather, “Gramps”, now 71, still takes out his four-wheeler and chainsaw for firewood on the 20 acres they own surrounding the cabin. That is the kind of hard work they've done all throughout their lives scaled down. That is their restful times, and I believe it is because they've found peace within the work. That is where the effort running takes effects me.
My oasis is not one place. It's not one solitary thing or human creation that makes me feel calm. It's exactly that: calm, peace, love. The feelings that make me feel as if I'm in one of the few safe places in the world, are actually everywhere. God provides them by making me realize how much I can rely on him and see the deep thoughts just go and go. He is truly amazing. The thoughts can come from any situation, small or large, calm or strenuous, boring or exciting. I need them, as we all do, and hope I always can identify them for what they are. My oasis is everywhere.
Luke Stoltzfoos
English 3, Block 4
Junior Portfolio
11.11.09
My Oasis
An Oasis, defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “something that provides refuge, relief, or pleasant contrast.” I really like that word – contrast. It shows how I feel about an oasis. Sometimes, my oasis is somewhere covered with people, because it's different. Sometimes, I gather strength from the most quiet, desolate, and calm region I can find. A crazier oasis for me is whenever I run. I feel peace when forcing my body to do strenuous activity, especially when alone. I search these all out to form a oasis of sorts. In a way, my oasis is everywhere that differs from the norm.
A huge, crazy, thunderdome is a portion of my oasis. It's different from the everyday, clearly, but what else is there is hidden. I mean this literally, the oasis I find within large stadiums is not within the focus on the games or activities, but rather the lack of focus on me. Within a stadium or a room full of people, I can hide, think, contemplate, without many interruptions. I'm not sure there's been a time where I have been in a large group without doing one of my favorite past-times: people watching. An art that has been passed down from my mother, that is. I love to study behavior, find out why people do the things they do. I have a friend, for instance, that was once extremely apologetic for not saying thank you for a ride home. I noticed it was something he really hung on to until he was satisfied, not until the person in the car was satisfied, but further. This friend's dad has not been involved too heavily in the friend's life, and whatever the dad says, the friend idolizes. I then decided that his dad probably told him not to forget that at one point. That is the kind of people watching I enjoy. Studying why and how they became who they are. That creates an oasis in my mind. A world of imaginative reality. There are few things better.
I share part of my oasis, which I believe is everywhere, because everyday is different, as well as every situation, with others. The most common oasis I think I see is the quiet, calm, and collected place. Where everything can be in the order you want it, and everything there is something you want to be. My room is a huge oasis for me. It's where I watch my movies, answer my e-mails and messages, often I eat my food there, and it creates a living space that no one else shares or knows of. It's a place where my deep thoughts can be thought without fear of someone saying “What are you thinking about?”. I think that's incredibly important to my being – some place I can think quietly without fear. I can talk to God without any interruption, which is the most important thing there is. I can seek him and ask to hear from him, and I, thankfully, get answers quite a bit. Sometimes I think that he might just love me a little bit =]. I love my room, my space, and my quiet places. They are of dear importance to my spiritual and emotional well-being, which are quite linked.
The least understood part of my oasis is the running. When I push my body to the edge and one step further, you don't realize the cloud I fall into. Eventually, after the first few miles, its like I've run straight off of a cliff, and my legs move without any fussy complain like pain or muscle pulling. My muscles simply decide they are done feeling for the next hour, and continue to move for me. That oasis of movement without feeling is a sensation that hard work can bring. Hard work is such an oasis sometimes. Especially work like running, it's monotonous, but only if you do nothing but run. Running is not so I can get in shape all the time, or win a race. Running is my way of thought process. Running is a way to grow and expand my thought processes. My brain needs to work hard, and running makes my mind crystal clear in a way that a thunderdome or a quiet place never could. I can't hear others easily when running. I can hear my feet pounding, my chest heaving, my breath rate rising. I need that repetition. When all is repetitive, and all is continuous, my thoughts flow like nothing else. Movement is insanely necessary for strong though. Even I, the running lover, underestimate the power that physical stress has over you. When you control your body in such a way that whips it past pain and strengthens you like crazy, it makes you stronger emotionally. You've learned that control physically, and it does continue over. Many people without physical control lack emotional control, and vice versa. My grandparents amaze me in this way. My grandmother, “Grammy”, now 65, still makes us all food and clears brush at their cabin, while my grandfather, “Gramps”, now 71, still takes out his four-wheeler and chainsaw for firewood on the 20 acres they own surrounding the cabin. That is the kind of hard work they've done all throughout their lives scaled down. That is their restful times, and I believe it is because they've found peace within the work. That is where the effort running takes effects me.
My oasis is not one place. It's not one solitary thing or human creation that makes me feel calm. It's exactly that: calm, peace, love. The feelings that make me feel as if I'm in one of the few safe places in the world, are actually everywhere. God provides them by making me realize how much I can rely on him and see the deep thoughts just go and go. He is truly amazing. The thoughts can come from any situation, small or large, calm or strenuous, boring or exciting. I need them, as we all do, and hope I always can identify them for what they are. My oasis is everywhere.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Book?
"I love the thought of sleeping on a bunch of feathers", he said to himself as his mind whirled with the thoughts of all the birds he's seen in his life through his eyes and pictures on the side of the buildings in the city, carefully choosing which ones he would pluck and stuff a bed with. He's talked to himself more and more as the months have gone on, more wanting to remember how to talk than anything. A man of his lowly stature doesn't take any words from strangers lightly, in fact, he plunges himself within them. He carefully decides that each word must mean something specific that trails so quickly through a person's mind. Maybe being called "dirty soul" is better than "dirty slob". Wondering who chose to make the sidewalks so grey and dull, he laid in his current "bed", his mind wondering and wandering, and fell asleep. He knows his world has crashed. He dreams about it every night.
When he's awake he starts to think about how he loves people who offer food and shelter, but has started to hate the patronizing talk of "I give you food and shelter, now give me conversation so I can shrug my problems off by saying I'm not as bad as him." He told me "When I think about it, that was probably what got me so interested in people's direct words. Yeah, that was it. I thought maybe I could help others who were so desperately trying to put me in a worse position than them, so that they could be in a good one. I noticed people would actually put me down more when they tried to help. That's how these thoughts arose. I had plenty of time to think then, and thinking gets you everywhere sometimes." I love his thought process. It's so understanding. He sees straight through almost everyone who he has a relationship with (which for him takes 5 minutes or seeing you on the street ten times). The relationship starters don't have to be spoken, maybe someone passed his street everyday in the same car for the past month. He might notice them(although he admitted women were much easier to notice) everyday, just seeing the small emotions you have.
Not only does he see the good and bad, he decides maybe there's a reason she, this specific, wonderful girl, is how she is. She loves to have music on, but it's always quiet. Wait, scratch that, she only had it quiet on most days. Other days she had it blaring, and she would roll down the windows, doing her cutest wave for the construction workers, singing for all to hear that she's off key. She even talked to him for two seconds, although if it was "Please move, friend." He counted those seconds, trying to make them last, sent his brain inside the thoughts of her wave and song. He enjoyed those few days more than any others. She was happy, he was happy. He wasn't trying to be creepy, and it wasn't just her, nor was it just women. No, it was everyone, even if they weren't going to be all for one he was going to be one for all.
Little, long and often impossible to follow trains of thought run their course through his brain. They never ended though. The course always had a repeat button, at least back then. He loved it. He could rethink everything, sometimes getting new insights. He had plenty of time, without a job that took thought. He worked at some local sub place. He liked to call it his "Mom and Pop Sandwich Shop". They were thankfully nice enough to give him a job. He was dirty though, so they let him use the shower in the back before work, that way he didn't drive away too much business.
It was worth it, for the "Mom" of the sandwich shop. He's often told me to go and get a sandwich from her on the corner of 7th and King. Mom loved to talk to him, and this is where, sadly, the patronizing talk started. She was, quite obviously to him, a person who assumed she had more problems than the rest of the world combined. That sent him into a darker time. Not much darker, that would be near impossible, but it was still there. Anytime he couldn't understand his relationships, it drove him crazy. People have always talked to him about stuff that they've been going through. He seemed to have that pull on people, and he could always tell everyone else who had the same curse, or maybe the same blessing, but he didn't know what it was then. The ones who had the same condition, maybe that was best word for it, would be more watchful of people. They would notice when someone tripped, maybe help them up or help pick up something. That could change a start of a bad day to the start of a good day for someone. We all wish that when we fell someone would pick our stuff up for us, or at least not step all over it. No one likes to give a report on the financial downfall of the company and have the report marred and mucked with brown footprints. He loves those people who do help. Empathizes with their condition. Sometime the condition only lasts for a few seconds, like if it's something that you've gone through, and you know without fault exactly what's happening. The condition, for him, never turned off, however. He learned more and more about people as he was without a home or enough money to do much. He had all the time in the world, and of course he had bibles, along whatever else people would give away that was free.
He always had bibles. The local churches always gave bibles away to homeless people. A throng of people following the pastor, priest, rabbi, minister, reverend, etc. would watch the leader of whatever church with the very churchy name give the bible and pray for a minute before leaving with his followers never to be seen again to follow up on what he started. The leader never seemed to have a plan. He/She always seemed to decide that the Bible alone was enough to get the job done. The bibles were holding up his rain cover/ heat insulator in his alley. That was really just syran rap and tin foil that he stole from the Mom and Pop sandwich shop. Stole, however, can be a relative term. They sent him out to get things all the time, and then they "forgot" to pay him back until he caught them with their checkbook out. Mom would go off on a rant about how maybe they should get rid of cable, or internet, or phone, or maybe they should just get rid of that giant TV and just get one that is decent and you can read subtitles if you need them.
He always thought of what a inconvenience that would be for a routine to be interrupted. His routine hold more of a not-existent role in life. It exists in theory, he likes to think the mind goes through things on a track and will be like any CD you've ever listened to - planned in advance. Each track is a chance, and he believes that he's been given chances. His old job was one chance he gave up. It wasn't his fault, that was the day he decided to read the Bible. He thought just maybe there's a reason people so blindly follow the leader of churches when they are just as much in fault as the followers, so he read. His reading ended in the bursting of a street lamp. Sudden, abrupt, and just off timing. Jesus' speeches often led him one way until you got to the end, when the light in his brain would suddenly burst.. The end can be just as the lamp burst: sudden and abrupt, but in contradiction to the lamp, has perfect timing. He read the part that said Jesus is without fault, and he keeps trying to understand the people who wrote the Bible, who are never supposed to change opinions with each other, at least not within the book collection that we call the Bible. That day, however, he just decided he would read, and try whatever it said. This time he read the part that said he must not do ten things. Specifically, he "shalt" not lie. Lying is some terrible sin he can never do, so he went to work with this new knowledge.
His Job was hard. Every day he dealt with people. A lot of them. The people were frustrated and bothered. He used to be a computer technician, when that kind of a thing was common. He went to one specific house, in which case a large, angry man was telling him that his computer is a stupid, heaping pile of crap, until our friend plugged the computer in and decided this large man was not worth a three hour drive.
There was another complaint in the area, however, and of course, he was already bothered by the point he reached the second house. He went to the apartment door of this new complainer, whom he now labeled as a whiny idiot who knew nothing about anything and needed to get a book and read for once. After he got frustrated that's how he saw everyone. When this whiny idiot asked how to bring up a game they had bought,the first thing that had to be asked was
"Have you tried to install it?"
"I thought I should just wait until you got here"
"Why?"
"You're a technici-"
He decided they deserved the truth, as the Bible intended.
"and I'm very busy, download it yourself you stupid, inconsiderate and clearly illiterate person who can't even read the directions because it would be inconvenient."
He lost it. The whiny idiot line came out a few times after this as well. A formal complaint, this time about customer service, was filed, and he was fired. Swiftly. He had to blame something, so the Bible was first on his list, after that it was the corporate system being flawed, but not until his butt hit the curb of 8th and king on June 19th, one of the hottest days on record in that city, did he realize it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. This man was finally humble, all it took was unfulfilled car payments, house payments, furniture payments, electric, heating, water, etc. Everything he needed compounded on the month after he was fired. His final paycheck made sure that he would be able to frantically search for a job during a month when there wasn't one to be found anywhere he's ever heard of. He had to go to the streets, and it was all their fault, right?
Somehow he got out of that thought process. He knows now that it was mostly his fault and that maybe if he read more than one verse he would have known that he needs to be humble and know that not everyone is as lucky as him. He learned that last one while he was actually on the streets. He knew that he could be in perfect health as soon as he died. Heaven holds not sickness nor pain, and he couldn't wait to get there.
Oh, his name is and was Greg.
When he's awake he starts to think about how he loves people who offer food and shelter, but has started to hate the patronizing talk of "I give you food and shelter, now give me conversation so I can shrug my problems off by saying I'm not as bad as him." He told me "When I think about it, that was probably what got me so interested in people's direct words. Yeah, that was it. I thought maybe I could help others who were so desperately trying to put me in a worse position than them, so that they could be in a good one. I noticed people would actually put me down more when they tried to help. That's how these thoughts arose. I had plenty of time to think then, and thinking gets you everywhere sometimes." I love his thought process. It's so understanding. He sees straight through almost everyone who he has a relationship with (which for him takes 5 minutes or seeing you on the street ten times). The relationship starters don't have to be spoken, maybe someone passed his street everyday in the same car for the past month. He might notice them(although he admitted women were much easier to notice) everyday, just seeing the small emotions you have.
Not only does he see the good and bad, he decides maybe there's a reason she, this specific, wonderful girl, is how she is. She loves to have music on, but it's always quiet. Wait, scratch that, she only had it quiet on most days. Other days she had it blaring, and she would roll down the windows, doing her cutest wave for the construction workers, singing for all to hear that she's off key. She even talked to him for two seconds, although if it was "Please move, friend." He counted those seconds, trying to make them last, sent his brain inside the thoughts of her wave and song. He enjoyed those few days more than any others. She was happy, he was happy. He wasn't trying to be creepy, and it wasn't just her, nor was it just women. No, it was everyone, even if they weren't going to be all for one he was going to be one for all.
Little, long and often impossible to follow trains of thought run their course through his brain. They never ended though. The course always had a repeat button, at least back then. He loved it. He could rethink everything, sometimes getting new insights. He had plenty of time, without a job that took thought. He worked at some local sub place. He liked to call it his "Mom and Pop Sandwich Shop". They were thankfully nice enough to give him a job. He was dirty though, so they let him use the shower in the back before work, that way he didn't drive away too much business.
It was worth it, for the "Mom" of the sandwich shop. He's often told me to go and get a sandwich from her on the corner of 7th and King. Mom loved to talk to him, and this is where, sadly, the patronizing talk started. She was, quite obviously to him, a person who assumed she had more problems than the rest of the world combined. That sent him into a darker time. Not much darker, that would be near impossible, but it was still there. Anytime he couldn't understand his relationships, it drove him crazy. People have always talked to him about stuff that they've been going through. He seemed to have that pull on people, and he could always tell everyone else who had the same curse, or maybe the same blessing, but he didn't know what it was then. The ones who had the same condition, maybe that was best word for it, would be more watchful of people. They would notice when someone tripped, maybe help them up or help pick up something. That could change a start of a bad day to the start of a good day for someone. We all wish that when we fell someone would pick our stuff up for us, or at least not step all over it. No one likes to give a report on the financial downfall of the company and have the report marred and mucked with brown footprints. He loves those people who do help. Empathizes with their condition. Sometime the condition only lasts for a few seconds, like if it's something that you've gone through, and you know without fault exactly what's happening. The condition, for him, never turned off, however. He learned more and more about people as he was without a home or enough money to do much. He had all the time in the world, and of course he had bibles, along whatever else people would give away that was free.
He always had bibles. The local churches always gave bibles away to homeless people. A throng of people following the pastor, priest, rabbi, minister, reverend, etc. would watch the leader of whatever church with the very churchy name give the bible and pray for a minute before leaving with his followers never to be seen again to follow up on what he started. The leader never seemed to have a plan. He/She always seemed to decide that the Bible alone was enough to get the job done. The bibles were holding up his rain cover/ heat insulator in his alley. That was really just syran rap and tin foil that he stole from the Mom and Pop sandwich shop. Stole, however, can be a relative term. They sent him out to get things all the time, and then they "forgot" to pay him back until he caught them with their checkbook out. Mom would go off on a rant about how maybe they should get rid of cable, or internet, or phone, or maybe they should just get rid of that giant TV and just get one that is decent and you can read subtitles if you need them.
He always thought of what a inconvenience that would be for a routine to be interrupted. His routine hold more of a not-existent role in life. It exists in theory, he likes to think the mind goes through things on a track and will be like any CD you've ever listened to - planned in advance. Each track is a chance, and he believes that he's been given chances. His old job was one chance he gave up. It wasn't his fault, that was the day he decided to read the Bible. He thought just maybe there's a reason people so blindly follow the leader of churches when they are just as much in fault as the followers, so he read. His reading ended in the bursting of a street lamp. Sudden, abrupt, and just off timing. Jesus' speeches often led him one way until you got to the end, when the light in his brain would suddenly burst.. The end can be just as the lamp burst: sudden and abrupt, but in contradiction to the lamp, has perfect timing. He read the part that said Jesus is without fault, and he keeps trying to understand the people who wrote the Bible, who are never supposed to change opinions with each other, at least not within the book collection that we call the Bible. That day, however, he just decided he would read, and try whatever it said. This time he read the part that said he must not do ten things. Specifically, he "shalt" not lie. Lying is some terrible sin he can never do, so he went to work with this new knowledge.
His Job was hard. Every day he dealt with people. A lot of them. The people were frustrated and bothered. He used to be a computer technician, when that kind of a thing was common. He went to one specific house, in which case a large, angry man was telling him that his computer is a stupid, heaping pile of crap, until our friend plugged the computer in and decided this large man was not worth a three hour drive.
There was another complaint in the area, however, and of course, he was already bothered by the point he reached the second house. He went to the apartment door of this new complainer, whom he now labeled as a whiny idiot who knew nothing about anything and needed to get a book and read for once. After he got frustrated that's how he saw everyone. When this whiny idiot asked how to bring up a game they had bought,the first thing that had to be asked was
"Have you tried to install it?"
"I thought I should just wait until you got here"
"Why?"
"You're a technici-"
He decided they deserved the truth, as the Bible intended.
"and I'm very busy, download it yourself you stupid, inconsiderate and clearly illiterate person who can't even read the directions because it would be inconvenient."
He lost it. The whiny idiot line came out a few times after this as well. A formal complaint, this time about customer service, was filed, and he was fired. Swiftly. He had to blame something, so the Bible was first on his list, after that it was the corporate system being flawed, but not until his butt hit the curb of 8th and king on June 19th, one of the hottest days on record in that city, did he realize it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. This man was finally humble, all it took was unfulfilled car payments, house payments, furniture payments, electric, heating, water, etc. Everything he needed compounded on the month after he was fired. His final paycheck made sure that he would be able to frantically search for a job during a month when there wasn't one to be found anywhere he's ever heard of. He had to go to the streets, and it was all their fault, right?
Somehow he got out of that thought process. He knows now that it was mostly his fault and that maybe if he read more than one verse he would have known that he needs to be humble and know that not everyone is as lucky as him. He learned that last one while he was actually on the streets. He knew that he could be in perfect health as soon as he died. Heaven holds not sickness nor pain, and he couldn't wait to get there.
Oh, his name is and was Greg.
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