a real heart to heart.

I met a remarkable man today following the weekly international student ministries gathering. He’s a fifty or sixty-something from Michigan who has been serving for over fifteen years as a missionary of sorts, spreading the word and helping to mentor students through group and individual discussions. He lived for a while in Florida where he worked in law enforcement, and somewhere along the line of duty he became fascinated with politics.

He has gone on missions to central America in the past and this most recent return home has been his longest this year, a whole three and a half weeks so far. He intends to travel back to central America in February, circumstances permitting.

He has traveled across much of the United States and is considering picking up an RV to allow him a home away from home. I was going to ask if his wife minded his constantly traveling, but I never did for fear that I might be overstepping myself – he told me later that there was infidelity in his marriage on his wife’s part. The words stumbled out.

He has a daughter and a granddaughter who visit him from time to time. He underwent a liver transplant eight years ago. He was undergoing surgery for something at one point in time when he began hemorrhaging. He bled out and recounted to me the experience of feeling himself dying, his heartbeat growing dull and muffled. He told me how blessed he feels to be able to walk this earth now and to go on touching the lives of high school and college students. He and I shook hands and went our separate ways – he still has to finish building his granddaughter’s clubhouse and he tells me that there are only a few pieces of wood left to go.

It feels so easy for me to talk about someone else. I sat on the concrete steps of the Wesley Foundation with him for an hour, hearing his story and relating pieces of my own. There is so much to be learned from others, regardless of what walk of life they come from. He is a blessed man, and I am grateful to have met him.

I love life.

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/esther17/1492383956/

politics on campus.

There were a bunch of chalk signs on the campus sidewalks rambling on and on about Ron Paul. “Google Ron Paul”, they say. “Liberation from Taxes”, “Enough about Iraq”, yadda yadda yadda. I was wondering how long it would take for someone to deface the pro-Republican mess.

In case you can’t see from the photo: Who is Ron Paul? (A HEARTLESS LIBERTARIAN)

Where are the Democrats down here?

pressing lights.

I think I got high last night.

I have never seen anyone using weed, at least not before setting off for college. There was an apartment party one night, and I smelled it more than anything else. I was tempted to give the stuff a shot, but neglected to do so on account of the fact that everyone else had finished smoking.

I started off the night by eating marijuana-laced mint chocolates. They’re melted down in a large container, at which point finely-diced pot is seeded into the liquid chocolate. Allow to cool, serve chilled. A rum-heavy mojito later and I was on the floor, smoking with everyone else. I felt the high after a while of not knowing what to look for, and then it just started hitting me in waves. I think it was the chocolate acting up.

So what happened? Everything went slow. Or rather, things were still going their normal rate, but I couldn’t take in every frame. I missed the occasional frame, so movement was filled with all sorts of fascinating stutters and gaps. And those lights, those damned lights. I was being forced down by them and I found getting up and off of the floor to be a struggle.

Yeah, that’s the end of the story.