Apparently Five (or six...depending on how you want to look at it).

So I have gotten word about some of the stuff I'm going to be doing this summer.

I applied way back in the middle of January for teaching over the summer here at UF. I figure, I should probably find a job since I'm going to live here over the summer and I have 'real world' expenses. UF has two summer semesters, both about 7 weeks long. I was assigned to teach Summer B (July to Mid-August). I also applied two weeks ago for a position to teach French in Paris this summer. It would be held Mid-June to the end of July. I am still waiting to hear about that position this summer (hopefully sometime this next week). If I get in--which I hear from my 'secret sources' that I am up there as far as candidates go--then I'm going to hopefully try and switch teaching Summer B to Summer A (May to mid-June). Which means that my summer will be pretty full, but it will also be amazing. And I will have a steady flow of income and actually end up coming out slightly richer (which will be nice since I'm living pretty much paycheck to paycheck at this point...a little more financial security is always nice...for emergencies and such). Plus it will just be an awesome experience.

Anyway, other than that things are going relatively well in my life. I mean, I could complain (we could always find things to complain about) but I shouldn't complain. I've been really lucky and blessed over the past few months.

[Maybe I should tackle one of those things I said I would write about....ok, here goes]

As many of you know there are, in various languages, different ways to say "you". There is a familiar version (French: tu, Spanish: tú, etc.) and a formal version (French: vous, Spanish: vosotros/Usted, etc.) Because I speak French quite a lot throughout the day and I often find myself thinking in French and therefore praying in French, I wonder how I should address God. I mean, the almighty creater of the universe you would think should receive the upmost formality as possible--vous is the obvious choice. However, he is my father, my
Αββα, my אבא, so shouldn't I refer to him as tu? It's such a big deal in the French language and culture to use the right term and I think I just never knew which one. What if it applies in both ways?

Anyway, one day when I wasn't even thinking about it, I found myself on wikipedia (Quelle surprise!) and found out that many languages have two words for "you" including English. It turns out that English--back in the day--used to have a familiar and formal version of 'you'. I, honestly, had no idea.

It seems that back in the days of Thou and Thy these words were, in fact, the familiar versions of "you"; You and your were actually more formal. So when the King James version was being penned back in the ages of...well, King James, they realized that the all three, the Greek, Aramaic, and Hebrew referenced God in a very familiar way...not distanced at all from his people as a more formal tone would suggest. We think of the KJV having a very formal tone because Thee and Thou and Thine and Thy all seem very archaic and formal to us, but they are actually showing a more closeness with our God.

I dunno, I thought that was really interesting, so I thought I'd share.

Man, how many languages can I put in one entry? lol...

It messes with my head

There's been something on my mind recently--as in the past two months or so--and I've never really been able to put it down into words. I guess now's as good a time as ever.


I don't care about the poor.


Now, please don't get me wrong. I don't mean that I despise poor people and I wish they would all die a fiery death. Nor would I immediately kick one of them in the shin if someone came up to me and said "I'm poor!" That's now what I mean at all. Let me (try to) explain...

I have so many friends who have a heart for the poor, the homeless, the afflicted--so to speak. I hear their desires to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and generally aid the poor and downtrod. I am in awe of their desires, sometimes so strong, full of so much sympathy for these people. I have friends who go off to far away countries to bring help to the "Third World". I have friends who do incredible work in inner-cities for those underprivileged that are in our own backyards. I have friends who have great ideas and ambitions and love and hope and passion for these people.

And I find myself asking myself, What's wrong with me? Why don't I have this same passion? Should I?

I've heard and read so much about how as a follower of Jesus Christ we're supposed to love everyone and help the poor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, etc. etc. I can have verses cited to me all day long, but I don't know. Maybe I'm messed up? Maybe I just don't get it? Maybe things haven't clicked yet (or never will)? But I don't have this passion. It's not what I care about and I'm left here wondering if I should be fighting this, if the fact that I am surrounded by so many friends and acquaintances with this passion that maybe I am supposed to have a similar passion?

But maybe it's just me? Maybe I'm just surounded by an inordinate number of people who care about the poor. Maybe that's not supposed to be something passionate for me. But then, this could be construed as moral/ethical relativism....

I don't know.

I actually came out of this post more confused than I went in and I don't think I got to clearly say what I really feel. Words never do justice.

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On a different note, I felt like I just needed a day to reconnect with God. It was just and me and God day....at least, that's what it was supposed to be...it didn't really turn out anything like I wanted it to be. Kind of depressing actually...but not in a way that is easily expressed in words.

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I have a lot of other thoughts running through my head, but I think I'll just leave them in there.....

Two Weddings and a Party.

Whew.

I just got back from two weddings today. TWO. It's insane. Justin and Rebecca got married today up at Berry. I went up and got there just in time to sit down and get set to watch everyone walk down the aisle. It was a really nice ceremony and I'm very happy for both of them. I had fun hanging out with everyone at the reception, it was like a little mini-reunion of my closest friends. After about an hour at the reception, I drove down super-fast to downtown Atlanta (an hour and a half drive took only an hour....:$) and went to the Aquarium for Amanda and John's wedding. They already had their ceremony but I was wanting to go to their wedding as well so I went to their reception at the Georgia Aquarium. It was definitely, by far, one of the most lavish receptions I have ever been to: Open Bar, Four Course Meal, Live Band, Tons of Waiters, Assigned Seating, And Giant Aquarium viewing areas where you could see all sorts of cool aquatic animals. It was very cool. I really liked both weddings even though they were pretty much complete opposites. It was cool to go to the very fancy wedding, but it was a lot of fun to hang out with all of the people I know and love and actually be able to talk to the bride and groom and carry on a conversation with them. I dunno, they were both awesome, just in different ways.

Yep, so I had fun with that. Tomorrow is Mike's birthday party up at Kennesaw Mountain and then on Wednesday night or Thursday morning I'm going to head down to Florida to look at some places to live. I've got some ideas on places and I'm really excited and looking forward to this.

It's amazing how everyone around me is growing up in so many different and cool ways and to be a part of it....it's all really awesome. God is also awesome.

Family Disturbance

First of all, my grandfather is awesome.

He's just a really great man. He's one of the most religious and pious men I have ever known. He's one of the most respected figures in my family and one who's opinion--although sometimes not agreed with--is highly respected. He was born soon after World War I, lived through the depression, fought in World War II, started a family, contributed to the Baby Boom, taught numerous years of high school social studies and sunday school, became the proud father of three and grandfather of six, saw a new millenium, saw the passing of his wife, the graduation of three of his grandchildren from high school, the destruction of a house he built with his own hands, and so many more things. He has lived an extraordinary life and is still living even after eighty-six years.

But something has started to bug me recently.

It's not something I thought I would have noticed. It's such a small minute detail...but it bugs me...and I don't know what to do about it.

My grandmother, his wife, died in early 2003 and he has since been in a sort of depression, which is understandable...they had been together for over sixty years. Sixty years of waking up in the same bed, living in the same house, sharing thoughts, becoming practically one person--when grandmother died, it was like a part of him died. But my grandfather continued to love his Heavenly Father and be faithful to the Bridegroom of Christ.

Following the years after my grandmother's death, my grandfather continued into depression and we didn't think he could stay at his house alone anymore. He went to go live with his daughter and her family, who would take care of him. He became more and more sickly both with actual medical problems and some problems that he convinced himself he had and probably--through the incredible power of the brain--might have actually given himself.

I probably didn't notice the small change until maybe about two or three years ago. My grandfather would often pray over family meals when we were there. He began the prayer practically every time with the same sentence without variation. It's a phrase that I've heard so much I probably will remember until I die.

Heavenly Father, we thank you again for this day and for thy love and mercy.

My grandfather uttered this phrase tens of thousands of times in his life, without fail. But a few years ago he began to say "Heavenly Father, we thank you again for this day and for thy love." and that was it. The first time I caught it I looked up to see if maybe he was choking or something had prevented him from saying the next two words I was so accustomed to hearing.

But he just kept going.

He kept going with the rest of the prayer over the meal and I was confused. OK, so maybe once in his lifetime he forgot to put those two words in his prayer. The guy does it all the time, there's bound to be some variation that I just had never noticed.

But it continued. It continued every time that I have ever heard the man pray since. It continued and every time the prayer was uttured across his tight pursed lips I would feel this emptiness...this anticipation...for this line that would never come. It's as if someone had sung the entire National Anthem and ended "Oh say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, o'er the land of the free." and ended right there not even acknowledgeing that we are the home of the brave. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

And then I think I realized it. This man no longer thinks that God is merciful. He has had such a horrible time these past few years and felt so depressed and sickly and so he no longer feels the need or desire to thank the Lord our God for his mercy that my grandfather no longer sees.

I was floored.

This man who helped raise his children with incredible moral and ethical values based upon the teachings of Jesus Christ, this man who--every sunday--would teach a sunday school class on different parts of the Bible for decades, this man who baptized me, this man who has been the patriarch and cornerstone of our family no longer believes that God is merciful.

It really saddens me...it's a big blow.

And I don't know what I can do about it.