thoughts along the rails

I sat quietly...waiting...and eventually succomed to my generally self centered laundry list of what my life looks like from the inside out. That place that is piled high with half written papers, partially filled out forms with coffe stains, chimiganga wrappers, chocolate wrappers, a few uneatten oranges (for when I feel healthy), and a full calendar I wish I had a handler to walk me through...you know the view. From here the list begins - among them are worship, discipleship group, pouring in, pouring out, moving out, moving in, too many cars, engagement at work, China, women, health, co-workers, friends, my ‘lost’ brothers, El Paso and my own place...from here I notice the people heading to Portland and make a mental note about the tatoos up this way.

I sit quietly...waiting... eventually I’m filling in the blanks left along each line, giving body to the self important bullets to make them truly my own. Eventually there are details I could show someone else. And the good one’s, the ones I’d like to ignore, are the most difficult to describe...I want to write around them with euphamisms. Soon I jot doen some some hard words, prentend to be comfortable wit them and it’s all on paper.

I sit quietly...waiting...listening now to Erika Badu...and the questions come. Is it that I’m a reluctant leader, or am I simply selfish to a certain degree? When friends looking for direction fall, does it hurt because they fall, or because I feel I’ve failed? What a vain, prideful and controlling man. Does my heart break, or is it just conversation with people in the environment I find myself? I’m struck with what I note as a real thought. Something anthropological that I could argue with myself about as I place it up on the pedistal on my mind for observation - most of my involvement at church feels/appears more like process/matriculation than heartfelt bonding and walking through life...my bad? I feel few reach out to me looking for my real heart. I this my lack of trust?

We’re moving out of the snow, but into thicker trees. I stop and check my notes, time to re-read, sit quietly and wait...I really don’t think I can get anymore jaded about the nature of the human condition. Oakbridge, Oregon - a beautiful covered bridge just out the window...I’m told it’s the longest in the state. Am I a good man simply too critical of himself...looking to work off his past, and not possessing some percieved worth of real love. Rather just feeling good as a reward now and again? There’s a large dam and lake off to the right (east), and I wonder if I’m still in the Willamette Forest? I sit and pray...we’re leaving Eugen and I watch the open fields pass as Boz Skag sings the dirty low down.

Looking back to my last arrival to Seattle 3 plus years ago on a very differnt version of this same train, I begin to laugh at the comparision between then and now. I get to offer an apology for who and how I was, and simply have become not so much more aware, but just aware I still have far to go. That, and I realize I’d really like to get off this train as the darkness has stolen my views of the country side. So I sit and pray...To the Lord let the paises be, it’s time for dinner now, let’s go eat - Lyle Lovette.