It’s the bottom of the third inning in my life, and I have learned two things: that I am neurotic, and God is a good parent. Oh my, so split of attention am I, so covertly hungry for affirmation, so desperately insecure about stupid things, so terrifically uncertain about most of life’s big stuff: how to work to my delight and the common good, how to be married, how to love God, how to be still and know that God is God, how to look you in the eye with real-life love. Oh Lord,
Our lease doesn't run up until July. Wherever we are going, it is at least three months away. And so there is this strange season where we have left something certain but have yet to walk into anything certain. I make sure people get their paychecks, and then I get home and try to work from what always feels like behind. I try to keep up with people, and sometimes I even keep up with my wife. I envy the people who have dinner together every night. We’re lucky to have dinner t
If something doesn't affect me directly, I probably don't care about it. I don't like writing that, but it's God's truth. When my reputation is on the line, when it makes me look bad, when it could make me look good, whether or not it's convenient for me, whether it makes me feel good, if it benefits me directly or indirectly, if I want to do it: you don't have to force me to care about those things. Am I the only one? If it doesn't benefit me, I don't [naturally] give a crap
Prayer is daily for 90-percent of us, polls say, That between Xanax and Voice, upward words give way. I pray, too, often for silly things Walk-off singles and discount jeans and healed families And sometimes I'm even aware of it. Salvation history is always sexier Than a black bench in Loring Park when the plot's unclear. Prayer is hard,
Harder still when yesterday's you praises fluently in your ear And hot metal doesn't help either. I think it's hard if you're doing it righ
I'm just trev.
I'm a 23-year old trying to make beauty out of life's raw stuff. I post stuff every Tuesday.