Time, It Was Never Your Ally

Some people ask why I haven't been writing as much as I had in the past. Where are your books and short stories, or the blogs you used to write, they say. Time, I'd say, before my quick rejoinder—"Besides, who reads anymore, am I right?”

To tell you the truth, time was never a good ally. When you’re enjoying yourself, it always runs too quick. When you're using it as an excuse, it's lacking in its alibi. Cleverly dressed-up, surface deep. Because, as the saying goes, you make time for the things you love, and I sure spend a hell of a time scrolling through my Instagram.

If I'm being honest with myself, I was afraid. There's fear in being trite and sounding dumb. There's fear that I'll offend somebody somehow in this "politically correct" world. There's fear even in success. How will I come up with something better than before?

4 Lessons From My First Year of Marriage

4 Lessons From My First Year of Marriage

Two weeks ago, my wife Christy and I celebrated our first anniversary. Isn’t that a trip? It might sound cheesy, but I can honestly remember when I saw her walking down the aisle, glowing in all her beauty. Time goes by swiftly.

I couldn’t have asked for a better first year. I felt like we were able to ease into our shared life as one. Sure, we both have some quirky habits. Like, I don’t know why she likes to hang the toilet paper roll under. She probably wonders why I’m predisposed to strip and leave my pants around the door whenever I walk in from work. All things considered, I’d say we fit each other like the milky flower on a cup of latte.

Mind you, it wasn’t without its ups and downs. Last year saw us through many changes, including moving to a new home (twice), changing churches, starting a new job, and starting a new company, to name a few. Through all of that, I’ve learned to find my constants in a few things: God, my wife, and my community. 

Time Away

Time Away

Last week, I went to Japan. 

I ate like a prince, and witnessed the beauty and wonder of nature. I felt the buzz of the city nightlife. I sat in a lot of trains. And I met some incredible people whom I’ll never forget.

Then I came back.

I flew back on Thanksgiving, and went straight from rolls of nigiri to turkey and mashed potatoes.

Days after, with the tryptophan and jet lag waning, I’m still left with this heavy feeling. It’s more like a deep impression.

The Morning After

After spending a night cramming for what felt like an exam, I voted. Though unlike other exams I did not have the “None of the above” option.

As I left the voting booth, I thought about my friends and what they were saying on social media, whether they swung left or right or everything in between. And I realized something.

Passion is a powerful thing, compassion even more powerful.

No matter what the results, the real test will come in the morning after. It’s a matter of how we as a people respond to not only our new president but to one another. It’s a matter of reaching out to “them,” those people whom stand across a perceived line we believe to exist, holding a set of beliefs that look different from ours.

A Call to Ears (& Not Arms)

Lately I’ve been watching a lot of food network. Every night when I come home and hit that remote, I’m on that channel.

I’ll work my way through episodes of Chopped. Cutthroat Kitchen. Beat Bobby Flay. It’s a way to inspire my own amateur chef work—and feed my food binge, that’s for sure. 

But if I’m truthful, I’d have to admit it’s the only place I feel safe.

Where I don’t have to deal with political agendas and networks spewing fear or hate. Where I don’t have to try to comprehend another senseless killing or act of terrorism or some other controversy. Where I don’t have to be tempted to despair.

I get the feeling I'm not alone.

When I’m speaking with my friends and coworkers, we’re a mix of things. We're two shots of sadness, poured into a glass and stirred with indignation. Numbness. Somewhere in these conversations I might recall a faint whisper of hope. But when everyone's heavy on that drink, it gets harder to hear...