This inspirational post appeared recently on my news feed:
"Jesus is the only friend who never disappoints".
Initially, I passed it by. There is a glut of "inspirational quotes" on facebook, no doubt perpetuated in part by me, and you just tend to get desensitized after awhile. Somehow this stuck with me though, and as I began to think about it I came to a conclusion:
Guess what?
Jesus disappoints.
Ask the crowds who followed Him throughout much of his ministry. Clearly nearly all of them became disillusioned by the time of His trial. All those countrymen who expected Him to overthrow the Romans and bring forth a new era of Jewish independence were disappointed.
Why? Some of it is undoubtedly on our part. Ungodly expectations lead to disappointment. Sometimes people assign loyalties to God that He never owned. And then sometimes...
we think we're diligently asking in accordance to His will, and we are disappointed. I don't know why this is, and I think it's healthy and productive to admit that. There are lots of things I don't know, like what kielbasa tastes like or why buttered bread always lands butter-side-down. This life is a continual learning process and we'll never fully understand. Here's to working it out with fear and trembling.
I believe that disappointment with Jesus is common, and to deny that fact creates isolation and prevents dialogue.
I believe Jesus is good.
I believe Jesus is omnipotent.
I believe Jesus disappoints.
Let's not be afraid of the truth.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
So long, summer.
So long, summer.
You've been good to us.
Between bookends of groggy sunrises and peaceful sunsets, days have been filled with the gaping exposure of mountaintops, perma-grins from riding new trails, and the soul-filling peace of new and strengthening friendships.
I won't forget the crushing heaviness of the ground when it's impacted at high speeds, the headaches caused by lakes covered in ice, or losing my dignity many, many times, because some kinds of dignity aren't worth holding on to.
And then there were the nights. Those nights that turn into mornings so quickly, proving friendship and maybe more. Nights populated by words and laughter, moonlight on alpine lakes, cold linoleum floors and broken couches.
No one was richer, summer's dividends were generous.
It's been good friend, we'll see you next year.
Caleb W.
You've been good to us.
Between bookends of groggy sunrises and peaceful sunsets, days have been filled with the gaping exposure of mountaintops, perma-grins from riding new trails, and the soul-filling peace of new and strengthening friendships.
I won't forget the crushing heaviness of the ground when it's impacted at high speeds, the headaches caused by lakes covered in ice, or losing my dignity many, many times, because some kinds of dignity aren't worth holding on to.
And then there were the nights. Those nights that turn into mornings so quickly, proving friendship and maybe more. Nights populated by words and laughter, moonlight on alpine lakes, cold linoleum floors and broken couches.
No one was richer, summer's dividends were generous.
It's been good friend, we'll see you next year.
Caleb W.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Mr. Gould
His voice was scratchy.
I'm not sure if he had chronic bronchitis, or if it was just worn out, tired from a lifetime of whispering and yelling and crying and laughing. I don't remember that bothering me. Maybe something about being a homeschooled kid of twelve who played by himself a lot insulated me from what the world considered cool. He was rich. I knew this because he had a pool. He lived with his wife in a nice house, nestled neatly within american suburbia. I remember his driveway being ridiculously steep. My mom would drop me off at his house once a week to learn things. Sometimes it was photography, sometimes is was building a model plane, sometimes it was how computers worked. He was smart. The kind of smart that made a kid's head spin with numbers and diagrams and terms that were hard to understand like "flying erase head" and "single lens reflex". He spent hours with me. I'm sure I wasn't the easiest kid to teach. I'm fairly convinced I had ADHD or ADD or one of those acronyms that keep people in boxes and tells them why they can't do things. That didn't seem to bother him. Every week I would show up, and every week he would invest his time and leave me a little bit smarter.
Sometimes I wonder why he did it. He had worked hard all his life to reach the plane he stood upon; one of few responsibilities and ample resources. He would have been more than justified in spending those twilight years doing anything...or nothing. Instead, he spent time with a weird pre-teen boy who thought he wanted to make movies. Maybe he was lonely, but I don't think so. I think he chose to spend those hours investing in the next generation with his time and knowledge. I think he saw broken families and aimless kids and wanted to do something about it. I think maybe some of those families and kids were closer than I knew. But that's just what I think.
I still visit him. Every year or so I'll drop by and we'll talk about where I live and how crazy technology is getting and if I'm married yet. He never looks any older, but I'm always worried that when I ring the doorbell, a young face will appear; one without fuzzy white hair or glasses falling off the end of it's nose. It reminds me to redeem the time, and invest it in the things that are really important.
Just like Mr. Gould.
"They lied, when they said the good die young..."
I'm not sure if he had chronic bronchitis, or if it was just worn out, tired from a lifetime of whispering and yelling and crying and laughing. I don't remember that bothering me. Maybe something about being a homeschooled kid of twelve who played by himself a lot insulated me from what the world considered cool. He was rich. I knew this because he had a pool. He lived with his wife in a nice house, nestled neatly within american suburbia. I remember his driveway being ridiculously steep. My mom would drop me off at his house once a week to learn things. Sometimes it was photography, sometimes is was building a model plane, sometimes it was how computers worked. He was smart. The kind of smart that made a kid's head spin with numbers and diagrams and terms that were hard to understand like "flying erase head" and "single lens reflex". He spent hours with me. I'm sure I wasn't the easiest kid to teach. I'm fairly convinced I had ADHD or ADD or one of those acronyms that keep people in boxes and tells them why they can't do things. That didn't seem to bother him. Every week I would show up, and every week he would invest his time and leave me a little bit smarter.
Sometimes I wonder why he did it. He had worked hard all his life to reach the plane he stood upon; one of few responsibilities and ample resources. He would have been more than justified in spending those twilight years doing anything...or nothing. Instead, he spent time with a weird pre-teen boy who thought he wanted to make movies. Maybe he was lonely, but I don't think so. I think he chose to spend those hours investing in the next generation with his time and knowledge. I think he saw broken families and aimless kids and wanted to do something about it. I think maybe some of those families and kids were closer than I knew. But that's just what I think.
I still visit him. Every year or so I'll drop by and we'll talk about where I live and how crazy technology is getting and if I'm married yet. He never looks any older, but I'm always worried that when I ring the doorbell, a young face will appear; one without fuzzy white hair or glasses falling off the end of it's nose. It reminds me to redeem the time, and invest it in the things that are really important.
Just like Mr. Gould.
"They lied, when they said the good die young..."
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Sunday, October 19, 2014
#honestyweek
It's no secret that social media isn't always the most honest representation of ourselves.
And that's not always bad. I prefer to see inspiring, beautiful things rather than the alternative. However, this often results in a collective feeling that everyone else's lives are significantly awesomer than our own. Nobody posts their downers, right? Well I am. For one week, I'm proposing an international #honestyweek, posting all the things that make us human, the flat tires, bad hair days and failures. Not to whine, but to prove that we are not alone in our shortcomings and frustrations. Maybe it will catch on and maybe it'll just be a guy posting a bunch of lame pictures for a week. Either way, I hope it will encourage at least one person to continue the race, because no one's life is perfect.
Die Living,
Caleb W.
And that's not always bad. I prefer to see inspiring, beautiful things rather than the alternative. However, this often results in a collective feeling that everyone else's lives are significantly awesomer than our own. Nobody posts their downers, right? Well I am. For one week, I'm proposing an international #honestyweek, posting all the things that make us human, the flat tires, bad hair days and failures. Not to whine, but to prove that we are not alone in our shortcomings and frustrations. Maybe it will catch on and maybe it'll just be a guy posting a bunch of lame pictures for a week. Either way, I hope it will encourage at least one person to continue the race, because no one's life is perfect.
Die Living,
Caleb W.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
#winning.
I stood there, staring up at it.
A massive wall, over a thousand feet high, defying us.
Disappointment drained the adrenaline from our veins as we stood on a rocky outcropping, 3/4 up North Maroon Peak in the White River National Forest. After several setbacks, we had managed to push high onto the peak, only to find a false summit and 1,200' of loose, near vertical scrambling standing in the way of our goal. It's a critical moment as we weigh the looming clouds, falling snow and slight water supply against our desire to reach the summit and not break a perfect summit/attempt ratio. It meant a lot to me that I had never failed to reach the peak of a mountain I attempted. It meant I had done the research, possessed the skill and had the physical strength and willpower to forge ahead when others had turned back.
But it meant more than that.
It meant I was a winner.
And being a winner means you're valuable.
We make the call: Turn back.
Frustration rose high in me. We had already worked so hard. Arbitrary percentages ran through my head: "I mean, there's like a 90% chance everything would be perfectly fine." That was probably true. It's the 10% that will kill you, I guess.
Something was cemented in my mind that day. My struggle to prove my value compels me to perform. Climbing a big pile of rocks really doesn't mean anything, especially to people who climb bigger piles of rocks. Somehow I've taken things like riding a bike or a piece of fiberglass down a hill into a metric of my relevance in this world. Luckily I'm not that great at those things, otherwise I might have gone my whole life living in this lie.
The Truth:
Winning does not make you valuable.
Or getting the girl.
Or landing that job.
Or stomping that trick.
Or knowing more than your buddy.
Or being faster, smarter, more determined, better dressed, wealthier, poorer, cleaner, dirtier, more compassionate, more socially conscious, more generous, blah, blah, blah.
It's all crap. We've (read: I have) turned our ability to do good things into a harsh god, raining down condescenance and condemnation on those who don't win at life. All of our righteousness is crap, including all the things that we think we can do to boost our value points.
"I am not a good man, it's good I seek to do. Heaven's gate is narrow, pray for me, I'll pray for you"
A massive wall, over a thousand feet high, defying us.
Disappointment drained the adrenaline from our veins as we stood on a rocky outcropping, 3/4 up North Maroon Peak in the White River National Forest. After several setbacks, we had managed to push high onto the peak, only to find a false summit and 1,200' of loose, near vertical scrambling standing in the way of our goal. It's a critical moment as we weigh the looming clouds, falling snow and slight water supply against our desire to reach the summit and not break a perfect summit/attempt ratio. It meant a lot to me that I had never failed to reach the peak of a mountain I attempted. It meant I had done the research, possessed the skill and had the physical strength and willpower to forge ahead when others had turned back.
But it meant more than that.
It meant I was a winner.
And being a winner means you're valuable.
We make the call: Turn back.
Frustration rose high in me. We had already worked so hard. Arbitrary percentages ran through my head: "I mean, there's like a 90% chance everything would be perfectly fine." That was probably true. It's the 10% that will kill you, I guess.
Something was cemented in my mind that day. My struggle to prove my value compels me to perform. Climbing a big pile of rocks really doesn't mean anything, especially to people who climb bigger piles of rocks. Somehow I've taken things like riding a bike or a piece of fiberglass down a hill into a metric of my relevance in this world. Luckily I'm not that great at those things, otherwise I might have gone my whole life living in this lie.
The Truth:
Winning does not make you valuable.
Or getting the girl.
Or landing that job.
Or stomping that trick.
Or knowing more than your buddy.
Or being faster, smarter, more determined, better dressed, wealthier, poorer, cleaner, dirtier, more compassionate, more socially conscious, more generous, blah, blah, blah.
It's all crap. We've (read: I have) turned our ability to do good things into a harsh god, raining down condescenance and condemnation on those who don't win at life. All of our righteousness is crap, including all the things that we think we can do to boost our value points.
"I am not a good man, it's good I seek to do. Heaven's gate is narrow, pray for me, I'll pray for you"
Thursday, February 6, 2014
If you click this I'll give you $100.
Sucker.
So.
Here I am, just another link asking for your attention. Another doorway into potential wasted time. Worse yet, as you read this you'll slowly realize that I am asking for money...GAK!
Still with me?
Hooray!
This March, I'll be traveling to Ethiopia and Nigeria with Empty Bucket Ministries. While there, the ministry will be digging a well to provide clean water, doing service work helping renovate a hospital, providing feeding programs and establishing a farm to produce sustainable food and jobs.
Where do I fit into all of this?
I make videos. I also shoot photos. I'll be utilizing these skills to create promotional content to help represent this ministry to their donors and potential partners. My passion is to shout their story to the world, creating connections and opportunities for them, so that they can not only continue to serve, but thrive and increase their impact.
So money. Blah. Unfortunately doing this stuff takes it. A decent amount, it turns out. Most of my trip has been very graciously covered, however, shots and a plane ticket to Texas are not included. Shots are around $100 a piece and I need five of them. Plane tickets will be around $2-300. Any help would be greatly appreciated, as I am not filthy rich. If you are interested in helping support me, there are several ways you can do so:
Paypal:
Make a payment to me at straightedged.skibum@gmail.com:
Personal check:
You may send a personal check to:
Caleb Weaver
2854 Orchard Ave,
Grand Junction, Co
81501
Stocks and bonds:
Preferably of some Fortune 500 company. (Like I even know what that is)
Empty Bucket Ministries' site: emptybucketministries.org
Thank you so much for reading this all the way through, and in advance if you choose to support me. Below is a video providing some more information and a sample of my work:
So.
Here I am, just another link asking for your attention. Another doorway into potential wasted time. Worse yet, as you read this you'll slowly realize that I am asking for money...GAK!
Still with me?
Hooray!
This March, I'll be traveling to Ethiopia and Nigeria with Empty Bucket Ministries. While there, the ministry will be digging a well to provide clean water, doing service work helping renovate a hospital, providing feeding programs and establishing a farm to produce sustainable food and jobs.
Where do I fit into all of this?
I make videos. I also shoot photos. I'll be utilizing these skills to create promotional content to help represent this ministry to their donors and potential partners. My passion is to shout their story to the world, creating connections and opportunities for them, so that they can not only continue to serve, but thrive and increase their impact.
So money. Blah. Unfortunately doing this stuff takes it. A decent amount, it turns out. Most of my trip has been very graciously covered, however, shots and a plane ticket to Texas are not included. Shots are around $100 a piece and I need five of them. Plane tickets will be around $2-300. Any help would be greatly appreciated, as I am not filthy rich. If you are interested in helping support me, there are several ways you can do so:
Paypal:
Make a payment to me at straightedged.skibum@gmail.com:
Personal check:
You may send a personal check to:
Caleb Weaver
2854 Orchard Ave,
Grand Junction, Co
81501
Stocks and bonds:
Preferably of some Fortune 500 company. (Like I even know what that is)
Empty Bucket Ministries' site: emptybucketministries.org
Thank you so much for reading this all the way through, and in advance if you choose to support me. Below is a video providing some more information and a sample of my work:
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
The speed of time.
Wow.
Another year.
Teton.
Pterocactyl.
Alpenglow.
Beardcicles.
Swamp-crotch.
Ice.
19" of snow.
Flow.
Monster slopestyle comp.
Injury.
Chaco heel.
Taylor River.
Catharsis.
Imagine Dragons.
Loss.
Singletrack.
Berms.
Allegrippis.
Timelapses.
L-Lens.
Documentaries.
Managua.
Hot Chocolate.
Wet bivy.
Grand Junction.
Fear.
Redcloud.
Embarrassment.
El Diente Couloir.
Private property.
File loss.
Boardercross.
4th of July volleyball.
Family.
Spontaneous notes.
Confidence.
Peace.
Turmoil.
Hope.
Such is my life.
So blessed am I, to have the opportunity to live it.
"Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by a lack of meaning and purpose."
Here's to a meaningful 2014.
Caleb W.
Another year.
Teton.
Pterocactyl.
Alpenglow.
Beardcicles.
Swamp-crotch.
Ice.
19" of snow.
Flow.
Monster slopestyle comp.
Injury.
Chaco heel.
Taylor River.
Catharsis.
Imagine Dragons.
Loss.
Singletrack.
Berms.
Allegrippis.
Timelapses.
L-Lens.
Documentaries.
Managua.
Hot Chocolate.
Wet bivy.
Grand Junction.
Fear.
Redcloud.
Embarrassment.
El Diente Couloir.
Private property.
File loss.
Boardercross.
4th of July volleyball.
Family.
Spontaneous notes.
Confidence.
Peace.
Turmoil.
Hope.
Such is my life.
So blessed am I, to have the opportunity to live it.
"Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by a lack of meaning and purpose."
Here's to a meaningful 2014.
Caleb W.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Hot skier girls.
I'm slightly amused by this whole "women of skiing" objectification issue.
I totally agree with those who take issue with women being portrayed more for their sex appeal than their skiing, but seriously people. Some of us have been saying this for a long time. People thought we were dumb and that women had the right to show off their bodies. Which is true, they do. They said that there was no harm and that we were old fuddy-duddy prudes who couldn't stand the sight of a girl's ankles.
But noooowwww. Somebody finally got wise to why mom, grandma and your weird Christian friend frowned every time some girl's body was used to sell perfume, skis, or practically anything under the sun.
It's de-valuing and objectifying.
So next time some outdated dude mentions how demeaning that Victoria's Secret poster is, just remember:
He's cool now.
Caleb W.
I totally agree with those who take issue with women being portrayed more for their sex appeal than their skiing, but seriously people. Some of us have been saying this for a long time. People thought we were dumb and that women had the right to show off their bodies. Which is true, they do. They said that there was no harm and that we were old fuddy-duddy prudes who couldn't stand the sight of a girl's ankles.
But noooowwww. Somebody finally got wise to why mom, grandma and your weird Christian friend frowned every time some girl's body was used to sell perfume, skis, or practically anything under the sun.
It's de-valuing and objectifying.
So next time some outdated dude mentions how demeaning that Victoria's Secret poster is, just remember:
He's cool now.
Caleb W.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Rusty heroes.
Full confession, tonight was full of feelings.
When I feel stuff, I write things.
Wow, this is going so well already!
I guess I just want to send out a beacon. I remember when I was younger, my imagined future life was full of principals, dreams, and hope. I had visions of Saint George, Aragorn and John Paul Jones. I was going to be the one who stood in the midst of opposition and held the torch of truth and justice. I wanted to be the one to take the bullet for his friend. I had dreams of defending the girl and getting the bad guy.
A hero.
Something happened though. Life happened. You suddenly get so caught up in those things that you do every day that seem so important in the moment. Fears arise, and pain damages you. You learn how the world works, and you lose faith. Cynicism kills everything. Maybe you don't ever compromise. Maybe you make the right decision, time after time...but you've forgotten why. Maybe it's grinding you to dust inside. But I'm asking you to do something.
Remember.
Remember love. Remember justice. Remember integrity, sacrifice and courage. A person becomes a hero when what they hold valuable so outshines the consequences that they are willing to abandon everything to stand by it. What do you hold valuable?
Are you proud of that?
Well, I'm all out of stuff and I wrote some things, and somehow this went from being about me to being about someone else. I guess in the end it's really about me, and putting "you" in there instead makes it a little easier to take. Always workin' on it.
Die living, folks.
Caleb W.
When I feel stuff, I write things.
Wow, this is going so well already!
I guess I just want to send out a beacon. I remember when I was younger, my imagined future life was full of principals, dreams, and hope. I had visions of Saint George, Aragorn and John Paul Jones. I was going to be the one who stood in the midst of opposition and held the torch of truth and justice. I wanted to be the one to take the bullet for his friend. I had dreams of defending the girl and getting the bad guy.
A hero.
Something happened though. Life happened. You suddenly get so caught up in those things that you do every day that seem so important in the moment. Fears arise, and pain damages you. You learn how the world works, and you lose faith. Cynicism kills everything. Maybe you don't ever compromise. Maybe you make the right decision, time after time...but you've forgotten why. Maybe it's grinding you to dust inside. But I'm asking you to do something.
Remember.
Remember love. Remember justice. Remember integrity, sacrifice and courage. A person becomes a hero when what they hold valuable so outshines the consequences that they are willing to abandon everything to stand by it. What do you hold valuable?
Are you proud of that?
Well, I'm all out of stuff and I wrote some things, and somehow this went from being about me to being about someone else. I guess in the end it's really about me, and putting "you" in there instead makes it a little easier to take. Always workin' on it.
Die living, folks.
Caleb W.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Why it's okay to be normal.
I'm blaming you, Mark Zuckerburg.
Freakin' 29 years old.
At 29 years old, you've changed the way the world communicates, been Time magazine's "Person of the Year", and placed yourself as the 66th wealthiest person in the world.
Freakin' 29 years old.
That gives me seven years.
Is it just me, or do most of us feel the pressure to do something grand? Sometimes I feel like if it's not spectacular, out-of-the-box, or world-changing, it's not worth my time. But can you blame me? It seems like Mr. Zuckerburg is the flagship in an armada of young protege's...
Travis started his own non-profit.
Julie is running a thriving small business in Seattle.
Cameron...well....he's still stuck in Delta.
Nobody wants to be Cameron.
The thing is...I love this about our generation. It's full of innovators and free spirits. Our creativity and vision are some of the few things that give me hope for the future. But I'm afraid we've forgotten something:
The nobility of the mundane.
You know, the mundane jobs that most of our parents had? Those mundane jobs that required your dad or mom to wake up at 5:00 a.m. for thirty years? Maybe your mom's mundane job involved waking your butt up in the morning to teach and guide you through life. Maybe your dad was an accountant, sitting in a crappy cubicle with fifty other people tapping out numbers so he could put you through college.
Heroes come in all forms, and sometimes they are made one insignificant decision at a time. You don't have to stop world hunger, just pick up that guy that's been standing on the street corner and take him to lunch.
I'm sure he'll appreciate that a whole lot more than his facebook account.
Heroes come in all forms, and sometimes they are made one insignificant decision at a time. You don't have to stop world hunger, just pick up that guy that's been standing on the street corner and take him to lunch.
I'm sure he'll appreciate that a whole lot more than his facebook account.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Sinner.
I am a selfish person.
It hit me the other day when I was having a conversation with someone online.
As the conversation progressed, I caught myself re-reading my own sentences...and I am ashamed to admit that I was honestly more interested in what I had to say than what the other person was expressing to me.
I would've just shrugged this off, but I've been noticing a trend lately. My own facebook photos intrigue me, and I'll re-read things I'd written months ago. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous things come to mind...things I'm too embarrassed to share.
Sometimes I feel like I'm riding this pendulum named "self esteem". One minute it's in left field, telling me I'm
a big fat failure, an awkward, shy, naive, antisocial schmuck. The next, I catch myself swinging from the chandeliers, believing I'm the greatest thing since sliced cheese.
I ask God to save me from the distortion that seems to keep my pendulum swinging. It's like trying to look at your reflection with your face smashed up against the mirror. You're just too close to see anything clearly, and what you can see is usually pretty confusing.
So aren't I awesome? I'm writing a blog!! I used cool words and made a heroic confession!
But it probably IS really stupid. It's not funny enough and I didn't use any Latin words so it's probably not even worth posting. I'm only writing this so I can get validation and reassurance about my life. EVERYTHING I DO IS A WASTE OF TIME!!!
Oh God. Don't give up on me yet.
It hit me the other day when I was having a conversation with someone online.
As the conversation progressed, I caught myself re-reading my own sentences...and I am ashamed to admit that I was honestly more interested in what I had to say than what the other person was expressing to me.
I would've just shrugged this off, but I've been noticing a trend lately. My own facebook photos intrigue me, and I'll re-read things I'd written months ago. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous things come to mind...things I'm too embarrassed to share.
Sometimes I feel like I'm riding this pendulum named "self esteem". One minute it's in left field, telling me I'm
a big fat failure, an awkward, shy, naive, antisocial schmuck. The next, I catch myself swinging from the chandeliers, believing I'm the greatest thing since sliced cheese.
I ask God to save me from the distortion that seems to keep my pendulum swinging. It's like trying to look at your reflection with your face smashed up against the mirror. You're just too close to see anything clearly, and what you can see is usually pretty confusing.
So aren't I awesome? I'm writing a blog!! I used cool words and made a heroic confession!
But it probably IS really stupid. It's not funny enough and I didn't use any Latin words so it's probably not even worth posting. I'm only writing this so I can get validation and reassurance about my life. EVERYTHING I DO IS A WASTE OF TIME!!!
Oh God. Don't give up on me yet.
Monday, April 1, 2013
The Downs.
No life is without trial.
Even in America...even for you and me.
Success comes to those who take their trials in stride, and look at them as an opportunity to learn, rather than a punishment for incompetency or just life's seeming innate cruelty.
So this is for You, the person who feels like no matter how hard they try, failure seems to haunt them. The person who HAS gotten back up, who thinks they've got nothing left to give:
Take a step back. You're not a failure or hopeless. You are, however, broken and flawed. That's okay!! Everyone is!! But don't be content...allow God's daily "adventures" to teach you, by exposing your weaknesses and supplying you with wisdom and strength to turn your trial into a triumph.
If that ain't #christiancliche #facebookworthy #stupidtwitterhashtagsthathavenospacesandarereallyhardtoread....
I don't know what is.
Oh, one more thing. Since we know to expect trials, let's appreciate those mountaintop moments all the more.
Caleb W.
Even in America...even for you and me.
Success comes to those who take their trials in stride, and look at them as an opportunity to learn, rather than a punishment for incompetency or just life's seeming innate cruelty.
So this is for You, the person who feels like no matter how hard they try, failure seems to haunt them. The person who HAS gotten back up, who thinks they've got nothing left to give:
Take a step back. You're not a failure or hopeless. You are, however, broken and flawed. That's okay!! Everyone is!! But don't be content...allow God's daily "adventures" to teach you, by exposing your weaknesses and supplying you with wisdom and strength to turn your trial into a triumph.
If that ain't #christiancliche #facebookworthy #stupidtwitterhashtagsthathavenospacesandarereallyhardtoread....
I don't know what is.
Oh, one more thing. Since we know to expect trials, let's appreciate those mountaintop moments all the more.
Caleb W.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
No excuses, just choices.
"My father didn't support me"
"I'm blind"
"I never got a formal education"
"I'm an orphan"
"I'm owned by another man"
"I have ADHD"
"I'm a poor speaker"
"I'm unattractive"
"My father abused me"
Every day, when I clock in and out of work, this bumper sticker, proudly showcased on the door attracts my attention:
"No excuses, just choices."
There will always be a legitimate excuse for not doing something worthwhile. The most valuable things in life are rarely easy, and it's taking me a long time to learn that. That exercise plan you're meaning to get on, the book that's been sitting on the shelf of your mind, begging to be written, that mountain that's defying you, and that person you meant to talk to will always be threatened of derailleur by your stiff joints, lack of convenient paper, poor weather and your insecurities. The men and women who have sweetened this world have rarely been handed greatness on a silver platter. They were people just like us, who dealt with insecurities, uncertainties and faults that made their road difficult. I am convinced that the defining difference between the greats of history and their peers was that they made no excuses, but made the difficult choices to persevere, work hard and take courage.
So let's roll up our sleeves, put on our big boy pants, and get to work making the choices to do the things that are worthwhile in this life.
Excuse key:
1: John D. Rockefeller
2: Helen Keller
3: Abraham Lincoln
4: Steve Jobs
5: Booker T. Washington
6: Thomas Edison
7: Moses
8: Don Knotts
9: Walt Disney
"I'm blind"
"I never got a formal education"
"I'm an orphan"
"I'm owned by another man"
"I have ADHD"
"I'm a poor speaker"
"I'm unattractive"
"My father abused me"
Every day, when I clock in and out of work, this bumper sticker, proudly showcased on the door attracts my attention:
"No excuses, just choices."
There will always be a legitimate excuse for not doing something worthwhile. The most valuable things in life are rarely easy, and it's taking me a long time to learn that. That exercise plan you're meaning to get on, the book that's been sitting on the shelf of your mind, begging to be written, that mountain that's defying you, and that person you meant to talk to will always be threatened of derailleur by your stiff joints, lack of convenient paper, poor weather and your insecurities. The men and women who have sweetened this world have rarely been handed greatness on a silver platter. They were people just like us, who dealt with insecurities, uncertainties and faults that made their road difficult. I am convinced that the defining difference between the greats of history and their peers was that they made no excuses, but made the difficult choices to persevere, work hard and take courage.
So let's roll up our sleeves, put on our big boy pants, and get to work making the choices to do the things that are worthwhile in this life.
Excuse key:
1: John D. Rockefeller
2: Helen Keller
3: Abraham Lincoln
4: Steve Jobs
5: Booker T. Washington
6: Thomas Edison
7: Moses
8: Don Knotts
9: Walt Disney
Saturday, January 19, 2013
In which Caleb is prompted to practice what he preaches.
Yeah so, it's bound to happen. I guess I've just been blessed so far. And you know, I've done pretty well, really. I've been riding for four years, and escaped any lasting injury so far.
But like I said, it was bound to happen. The new board's aggressive pop, sidecut and short nose all conspired to buck me into oblivion.
So that's that. And I'm quite frankly a little peeved. 'Cause I had PLANS!! And then I turned on the computer and read my desktop background, which is that enlightening quote by C.S. Lewis that I posted the other day.
*Sigh*.
And I'm going to do just that, and start regarding the unplanned unpleasentries that life throws at me with a little peace, knowing that whatever happens, life's not out of control, just out of mine.
Hope you guys don't mind my digital expressions. It's a little cathartic sometimes.
Monday, January 14, 2013
The adventure of unpleasantries.
"The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's 'own', or 'real' life. The truth is, of course, that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life—the life God is sending one day by day: what one calls one's 'real life' is a phantom of one's own imagination."
C.S. Lewis—from a letter to Arthur Greeves, 20 December 1943
Adventure.
I throw that word around alot.
Okay, spell check. A lot.
C.S. Lewis—from a letter to Arthur Greeves, 20 December 1943
Adventure.
I throw that word around alot.
Okay, spell check. A lot.
In fact, everyone's jumping on the train. In this God-deprived world, we've discovered that working a 9-5 job, getting married and living in a whitewashed, vinyl-clad home in suburbia may not be the ticket to fulfillment for every single person.
What a shock.
So we've begun this obsession with adventure, a sometimes reckless pursuit of new and exciting experiences. Burn down the vinyl house, and live in a tepee. Quit your job and go trek through the Yukon wilderness. Forget marriage, who needs ties like those?
This is a growing culture, and quite honestly, one I've grown to be a part of. There's something about standing next to an alpine lake at night, or stretching my comfort zone learning a new dance step that teaches me something about myself and broadens my world.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for consistency. I'm also a fan of hard work, and commitment. I just haven't bought into this "American gospel" being preached.
But recently, my view of adventure has been broadened.
We've all been there, late for work, or school, or church, and whomp!! Flumpflumpflumpflump...and you know your tire has just shuffled off its mortal coil. Possibly the most vulnerable component of our vehicles always seems to let us down at the worst time. And then there's the whole mess of getting out that spare tire, which is always in some grimy, neck-cramp-inducing location. It's not just tires though. It's an alarm clock that malfunctions, a dog that runs away, or dare I say it...the internet goes down.
Unpleasentries.
Inconveniences.
And they always seem to happen when we least have the patience for them.
But maybe that's the point. Things don't happen spontaneously, they have an order and a reason. God directs his symphony on the canvas of our lives, each note an event, perfectly chosen to nudge us in the right direction. One of Webster's definitions of adventure is: "a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome." For us, that's what life is. We don't know what every decision will lead to and we can't always predict when entropy will throw a monkey wrench into our operations, but we DO know that we can trust that they're for our best interest. That's why I like to re-brand them, and call them adventures. Somehow, labeling something as an "adventure" helps me to begin to embrace life's everyday faux pas, and learn to take them in stride.
The adventures that unpleasentries bring our way do us a favor by knocking us out of our comfort zone and shaking us up a bit. So here's to tomorrow's adventures: the frozen water pipes, the botched haircut and the flu, and to our flexibility allowing us to discover God's heart.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for consistency. I'm also a fan of hard work, and commitment. I just haven't bought into this "American gospel" being preached.
But recently, my view of adventure has been broadened.
We've all been there, late for work, or school, or church, and whomp!! Flumpflumpflumpflump...and you know your tire has just shuffled off its mortal coil. Possibly the most vulnerable component of our vehicles always seems to let us down at the worst time. And then there's the whole mess of getting out that spare tire, which is always in some grimy, neck-cramp-inducing location. It's not just tires though. It's an alarm clock that malfunctions, a dog that runs away, or dare I say it...the internet goes down.
Unpleasentries.
Inconveniences.
And they always seem to happen when we least have the patience for them.
But maybe that's the point. Things don't happen spontaneously, they have an order and a reason. God directs his symphony on the canvas of our lives, each note an event, perfectly chosen to nudge us in the right direction. One of Webster's definitions of adventure is: "a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome." For us, that's what life is. We don't know what every decision will lead to and we can't always predict when entropy will throw a monkey wrench into our operations, but we DO know that we can trust that they're for our best interest. That's why I like to re-brand them, and call them adventures. Somehow, labeling something as an "adventure" helps me to begin to embrace life's everyday faux pas, and learn to take them in stride.
The adventures that unpleasentries bring our way do us a favor by knocking us out of our comfort zone and shaking us up a bit. So here's to tomorrow's adventures: the frozen water pipes, the botched haircut and the flu, and to our flexibility allowing us to discover God's heart.
Sometimes our adventures look less like:
...and more like:
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Candy and Character.
I'm awake again.
I readjust my sleeping position, at least as much as one can in a mummy bag, and try to go back to sleep. My condensating breath is making mini-icicles and blowing back at me with every exhale.
Makes me wonder how much of my own CO2 I've breathed all night.
The snick/snack of my camera on a timelapse filters weakly through the bivy material as I replay the evening and night's events: A well-executed sunset timelapse, which I overexposed perfectly to allow for the darkening sun, check. Two letters written to friends, check. Bivy and second timelapse locations found, check check. Matches for stove, woopse. Two sticks rubbed together, check. Two rocks and glancing blows, check. One flashlight battery and a twisty-tie, check. One trip back to the truck and a fortunate matchbook discovery, check check. One delicious meal of shimp Ramen and leftover sausage, check.
And I smile. I smile because I know I could have spent the evening watching old TV shows on Netflix and updating facebook. I smile because instead of spending my time on mind candy at the dollar store, I've followed through with a goal and invested my time in my vocation, an adventure and my friends.
Now I like some TV shows, and facebook is a great tool, but somewhere along the line, I've let them consume so much of my life. Time is like money, only more valuable, and I'd rather invest it in real things, and only buy candy one in awhile.
My eyes droop, but I know I'll be up again in an hour or so with a sore back.
And I couldn't be happier.
Caleb W.
I readjust my sleeping position, at least as much as one can in a mummy bag, and try to go back to sleep. My condensating breath is making mini-icicles and blowing back at me with every exhale.
Makes me wonder how much of my own CO2 I've breathed all night.
The snick/snack of my camera on a timelapse filters weakly through the bivy material as I replay the evening and night's events: A well-executed sunset timelapse, which I overexposed perfectly to allow for the darkening sun, check. Two letters written to friends, check. Bivy and second timelapse locations found, check check. Matches for stove, woopse. Two sticks rubbed together, check. Two rocks and glancing blows, check. One flashlight battery and a twisty-tie, check. One trip back to the truck and a fortunate matchbook discovery, check check. One delicious meal of shimp Ramen and leftover sausage, check.
And I smile. I smile because I know I could have spent the evening watching old TV shows on Netflix and updating facebook. I smile because instead of spending my time on mind candy at the dollar store, I've followed through with a goal and invested my time in my vocation, an adventure and my friends.
Now I like some TV shows, and facebook is a great tool, but somewhere along the line, I've let them consume so much of my life. Time is like money, only more valuable, and I'd rather invest it in real things, and only buy candy one in awhile.
My eyes droop, but I know I'll be up again in an hour or so with a sore back.
And I couldn't be happier.
Caleb W.
Monday, December 31, 2012
What's real.
We place so much value on worthless things.
Our comfort,
Our possessions,
Our internet lifestyles.
All things that, in the end, have no real value. When was the last time your facebook profile made you feel truly fulfilled? When was the last time your $5,000 bike looked you in the eyes and said "you're worth it"?
I think somewhere in our affluent, engorged, gluttonous American lifestyle, we've lost sight of the "Real Things". A breath of cold air, our words, a friend's loyalty, a parent's love, glorious mountains, awash in evening's amber light, Jesus' sacrifice, courage, selflessness and tenacity.
Maybe instead of just making commitments to "exercise more", or "call Mom more often", we should embark on a search for "what's real". Those things that no one can take from us, those things that affect the soul. This year, let's stop wasting our most valuable resource, and begin investing our time in things that won't turn to dust.
So here's to time well spent. Enjoy real life!
So here's to time well spent. Enjoy real life!
Oh, p.s., if you're looking for a good source for your "real things" list, I know a great book. The Author is totally an authority on what's real.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Rocky road.
Admittedly, the ice cream is delicious. The more literal rocky roads, however, can throw us for quite a loop. Truth is, it's not just one road. Life's like an intricate network of paths, with each intersection a decision, and each road a destiny. My fear is not that the road will get too difficult, but that I'm on the wrong one. Perhaps I made the wrong decision at the last fork? What if I'm going the wrong direction entirely? Sometimes I feel lost. Is that because I am, or is the road just more convoluted and painful than I thought? Sometimes I feel like I'm this high-tech gadget that I haven't quite figured out how to operate. It's got tons of potential, but the right combination of pulling this knob and pushing that button has thus far eluded me.
I'd like to wrap this up, all nice and shiny...with a bow on top. But the truth is, I'm still working through it. Sometimes, you're just not sure what to do. The journey is not for the faint of heart, but I know one thing, and that's that no matter the difficulty, we can't stop.
"But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul." Deuteronomy 4:29
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