Eyes Ahead

Two seconds or more, that's what they say in driving school. Or one second for every car length between you and the next. In life though, things aren't always this simple.

Some say you live in the present and for the moment. Others say you should maintain ambitions and constantly plan for the future. Hardly any say you should live in the past, but many will say it's important to remember the good times and the bad. With so many voices looking straight forward, down to the floor, or over your shoulder, it becomes nearly impossible to forever maintain a simple image.

Life just isn't easy, sometimes. For people like me, however, that's what we live for. We live for hardships and hardships overcome. Our safe places become hot spots of agonizing idleness. We become claustrophobic, running down a tunnel that never closes behind us yet always tries. Does life collapse or do we just perceive it to do so in order to accomplish extraordinary feats and vanquish another rival force?

Life can be a mystery, man can hardly be its detective.

You know, I can hardly watch two episodes of 24 before I realize that I must be the most impressionable man my age on the surface of the planet. I witness the sacrifice and dedication that comes with television's version of the government, the indomitable will to save the lives of innocents, the value of laying one's own life down for a cause that is much greater than himself. Were I to look into the military and government and find no qualms with its morale or motivation,  I would have no problems dealing with the chain of command or the commitment which appears to be forever. I have done no such research, know not of a way to do so, but only hope I can find the way to fulfill the life that was laid out for me by my master and savior. There is a reason these emotions have been so deeply distilled within my being. There might be a correlative reason that my name is Steven Pierre. There might be a reason that they're both martyrs and saints.

I feel like a feather, sometimes, drifting in the wind and subject to even the lightest of exertion. Josh Simon mentions the mentality of the Outback and I feel like my life all of a sudden belongs forever in the great Down Under. I see a single glimpse in a motivational video showing a firefighter busting through the door to rescue a burning house and I feel that is suddenly the best occupation for me, with no circulative hesitations. I hear Ryan Ozolins say that being a youth pastor is the most difficult and most rewarding job in the universe, you guessed it, I decide it'd make the perfect side job. A quick thought scampers across my mind of Randy Moya, who I esteem as one of the best coaches I've ever had, and I decide I want to coach youth football and baseball my whole parental life. I hear Jack Bauer say that in order to do his job, you have to be able to "detach," and I question if I ever want to have a family.

A thousand bullets in a vacuum must all eventually collide. They don't hit pleasantly either, they may cause slight indents or knock one off of its course entirely.  There is no order and a thousand possibilities. The entities of life work likewise ricochet. There's no telling which one's going to hit you first. You have no idea which one's going to stick. You have no idea which one's going to be perfect for you.

You don't know if one even can or should be perfect for you. We do live in this world after all, for the time being. "Out of all the voices calling out to me, I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth." - Casting Crowns. The issue right now is that there's so many objects lurking in the somewhat distant future. I'm looking miles ahead when perhaps I should be looking only two seconds or a predetermined number of car lengths. Does this mean I'm going to get into a wreck? I see a thousand roads going a thousand different places in a thousand different ways. There's just too much out there. It's a blessing and it's a curse; it's a welcome challenge.

Uncertainty is one of those things you really come to hate after a while. It's often paired with patience, which people like often have trouble with. Some things you really don't want to have to wait until Christmas to open. Sometimes you just want to accelerate beyond the tempo of life that belongs to you. You can't take it anymore and just want to skip a couple of years. You sometimes lose track of where you're actually at. Then you've got that remorse to deal with. This leaves you to do your very best to deal with this all with a considerable deal of swag, always gotta look good on the outside. Stay loose even if you're tight as an unfulfilled expression inside. (Tight as a ___? There is an expression hiding out there somewhere.)

Dealing with all this here is exactly why I don't need my mom to pay a counselor. I find myself going in there and just trying to learn what I can of his trade. I play along with genuine sincerity.

I practice the role of the counseled in order to counsel those I know. It's much more like an indirect psychology course for me than a therapy (which would go towards an injury I don't have). It's fascinating but perhaps a waste of coin.

So I just knocked out my reading and I think there's a pretty cool verse that we've been talking as a youth group about for over a year, whether to console us over our size or to motivate us in prayer or to just rejoice and appreciate all that has been made available and promised to us by the most powerful force in the universe.

"Again, I assure you: If two of you on earth agree about any matter that you pray for, it will be done for you by My Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in My Name, I am there among them."
Matthew 18:19-20

I love that verse, shows how accessible God is. But, to be honest, how easy is it to get two Americans to completely agree on anything? Not very.

I talked on the phone tonight with an upset reader that brought up a valid argument. She's upset that it seems like I don't care about you guys reading this, or that I make it seem like you're reading something you're not supposed to be reading. Thus commences the third part of a trilogy on LaFerriere v. Blogspot.

First off, what you are reading is a blog.
What I am writing is a journal.

When you see statistics, what you are seeing is a progress report.
What I am writing is a compliment.

When you see an address to yourself, what you are seeing is definitive establishment of terms.
What I am writing is self-definition.

When you are reading this now, what you are seeing is a standing zone of neutral territory.
What I am writing now is neutral territory.

Comments can come back now, I suppose. But don't get your hopes up, grouchy old me isn't promising any responses.