where I’ve been
I wish I could post a picture here, showing you the grandeur of all that was my ski trip in the Colorado Rockies, but given my current computer/internet/camera status, that won’t be happening (yet). More on my current situation at the end of this post. First, skiing.
I’ve spent that past few days doing one of the very few things in life that I’m decent at: snow skiing. From Keystone to Vail to Breckenridge, I’ve worked hard at conquering each mountain, one run at a time. Keystone: conquered. Vail: too big to conquer. Breckenridge: conquered. The story I’ve chosen to share is an event that happened in Breck.
I stopped for lunch for the first time in three days. After eating my Vienna Sausages and tortillas I started gearing up for the trip’s final afternoon. As we made our way out, one of my ski buddies recommended that we do a shirtless run. I, of course, obliged (see the carpe diem post below).
There are a couple things to keep in mind as you construct yourself a mental picture of my little topless run.
1) Mountains, winter, snow skiing… cold! I’d say it was somewhere between 20 and 30 degrees. Not terrible.
2) I have red hair, which, by default means that I have very pasty skin. My fleece is white as snow.
So there I go, equipped with skis, pants, gloves, a giant red beard, a hat and goggles, flying down a lift that quite conveniently ran directly below the nearest ski lift. If you are ever in Colorado and you want to be popular, take off your shirt and ski beneath a lift. I’ve never had so many people yell for me in my life. There were lots of people pointing, wondering what was wrong with me. Let ‘em think that. While they’re thinking that, I’ll be seizing my days.
Back to my current status: I’m stuck in the La Quinta here in Pueblo, Colorado because God decided to place the biggest storm in American history on the same day as our drive home. Chances aren’t really looking too good that we’ll get to leave here tomorrow either… strug. Stay tuned to see if I ever get to leave this place. Oh, and don’t think, “how cool, he’s stuck in his favorite state.” Not quite, this isn’t cool Colorado, it’s not-so-cool-Colorado-in-a-hotel-with-nut-bag-people. Oh well… carpe diem.
Merry Christmas
To you in David’s town this day,
is born of David’s line,
The Savior who is Christ the Lord,
and this shall be the sign:
The heavenly babe you there shall find,
to human view displayed,
All meanly wrapped in swaddling bands,
and in a manger laid.
Hallelujah!
-Andrew Peterson-
glory to God
The other night Mikey and I walked to this “Drinks and Desserts” get together at a neighboring apartment complex. It took us a lot of wandering the parking lot before we found apartment 2223, but we finally found it. As we approached the stairs I spotted this Hamilton right there on the ground. I haven’t found a dollar bill on the ground since elementary school when I found a Lincoln (I think) on the Luby’s floor in Arlington. I rejoiced. Ask Mikey.
On an unrelated note: I have to work on Christmas Eve… what the heck is that? I guess I’ll just keep in mind that Mary and Joseph didn’t get any time off on Christmas Eve either. I’ll be Joseph, you be Mary.
I smiled
A lot of people seemed almost disgusted upon hearing that I - a college graduate - am working retail. This post isn’t really about my reasoning behind doing what I do (nor is it about the happy-face-moon-crater pictured above). It’s more about some of the things I see while I do what I do. I’ve seen these three things at work over the past few weeks, and each of them made me smile like a crater… with a beard.
1. I overheard a customer asking a fellow employee which pair of gloves were the warmest. Not an uncommon question this time of year. Then she threw in the part that almost brought a tear to my eye: “We’re getting them for our crossing guard.” OH MY GOODNESS! I’m pretty sure that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard a human say or do in months. I wanted to hug that lady and her little kid. Not only are they saving the ozone by walking to school, they’re buying their sweet crossing guard the warmest pair of gloves REI has to offer. After fighting off my tears (for the sake of professionalism), I smiled.
2. If we’re lucky enough to have to come in at 7:00am to work at a place that doesn’t open until 10:00am, we’re also lucky enough to see the two people who clean REI every morning. I think it’s a father/son duo. The father isn’t too big on English, and the son just listens to his music while he vacuums, but he’ll talk too. Now, I work upstairs, but the way our store is set up I’m able to see a good portion of the first floor from my section. One day the cleaning didn’t quite get finished by 10:00 and I happened to look down and see my friend, the son part of our cleaning team, opening the first of two sets of double doors for this awesome old man who couldn’t walk very well (or fast) even with his two canes. After the man got through the first set of doors, music-man hustled in front of him to hold the next door for him. This guy has no close affiliation with REI, he didn’t have to even acknowledge the man, but he did, and I smiled.
3. I love when a couple walks up and you can just tell that they are in love with each other, and that their love for each other comes from Jesus. (Sadly, this isn’t an event that happens all too often). This guy came and asked me for ski pants the other day. He wanted a good warm pair for his wife. I don’t know how you ask a question in such a way that screams, “I love my wife,” but this guy knows how, and he did it. After I had been helping him for a very short period of time, his wife walked up, at which point I was helping them, not him. Really I was just helping her the entire time as far as the husband was concerned. Anyway, I was very saddened when I was unable to provide this awesome couple with the particular ski pants they wanted. I mean, I was really sad. I wanted to be friends with these people, and not giving them the pants they want was no way to start a stellar friendship. So they very understandingly walked away, back down the stairs, in love and on their way to a ski trip. I smiled.
carpe diem
The past few weeks Jon, Mikey and I have been very blessed to have one of our roommates of yore crash with us here in Dallas. THE Colby Ivey has graced us with his presence before he heads off to Colorado for a while. Last night, another one of our beloved roommates from Luther Street was in town. A typing test brought Jessie Harris to the Big D and fate brought him to us upon his completion of the test.
Jessie, Colby, and I decided that in order to celebrate our brief reunion, we should go to Taco Bueno and converse over a Mexican fast food feast. The conversation was a beautiful thing. We caught up with one another, reflected on our Savior and what He’s been up to lately, and talked about life in general. The three of us are all highly aware that we are at a very unique point in our lives. We can pretty much do whatever we want, and go wherever we want, and fully justify it because we are currently bound to nothing. None of us are close to being married (that we’re aware of), and we’re all able to live off $12,000 a year without too much sacrifice.
In the midst of all this conversing, Colby mentioned a recent funeral that went down at a local church. The guy was 24, married, and had a baby. He died in a fishing accident. He lived with 6 or 7 of his best friends in college. He liked to walk around barefoot. He lived a full life. He was us.
There have been no shortage of reminders the past few years of how fragile life is.
It doesn’t take too long to dwell on the fragility of life before you decide you want your life to be a full one. Hence, carpe diem. Seize the day. We are so dumb to not make the most of every day we are given, and every opportunity we’re given, no matter how silly or even stupid it may seem.
That said, there have long been talks about the Luther boys getting a tattoo to solidify our unity and love for each other. The idea has always been that we would each get one letter of “Luther Boys” tattooed. 10 people, 10 letters, good deal. Well it turns out that some people aren’t crazy about the idea. They don’t want to seize their days. They strive to life boring lives. So, we’ve been forced to reduce “Luther Boys” to just “Luther”.
Immediately following our carpe diem conversation at Bueno, Colby and Jessie decided that that very moment was the best time to get the tattoos, even though there were only three of us. We would get the ball rolling with L, U, and T, and let the other lucky three spell HER later. Oh, and if you haven’t gotten this already, the location of said tattoo is to be directly on each roommates’ bumper (see picture above). I could go on in great detail about how hilarious last night was, but I fear this post is getting a bit long. Suffice it to say that tattoos are very expensive, and when you want them on your bumper, they cost even more. So funny.
Carpe Diem!
no surprise
If you’re part of the readership of all the Living Hope bloggers (which, lets face it, you are) then you know everyone’s been tagged, and since everyone’s been tagged, and I’m someone, I’ve been tagged. If I hadn’t been tagged by my favorite 7 year old, I would have immediately disregarded it. However, since Anson is such a baller, I cannot resist.
1. I’m way more selfish than you think I am.
2. I hate it when I’m opening the bag of cereal and it tears down the side, allowing pieces of cereal to fall down into the box, never to be eaten.
3. For the first time in my life, my beard is longer than my hair.
4. I day dream about being in cooler life stages than my reality.
5. I’m a firm believer in listening to entire CD’s without skipping around or switching CD’s before completely listening to them. I think artists put at least some thought into the song order of their albums and they probably want you to hear the songs in the order that you do without your skipping around. If you’re driving, do whatever. It’s your CD player. If I’m driving, don’t you dare reach your nasty finger to my CD player’s dial to skip to a song you think is better than the one currently playing. It’s not how the artist intended it to be, and it’s not how it will be in my car. If you weren’t sure earlier, re-read number 1.
Here’s the list of people I’ll tag (but won’t hyperlink because it’d take too long): Philip Yancey, Andrew Peterson, Mark Driscoll, Kelly Clarkson, and my Granny.
olives
Three months into this Dallas gig, and I’m still an orphan when it comes to churches. I really wish that my opening statement only applied to me, and not to the countless other people to whom I’ve spoken since I’ve been here. Scores of people are in the same boat I am, living in a new place, and missing the church family they grew to deeply love back in their college towns. Some of my boat-mates have been in it up to three times longer than I have. This is a problem.
I’ve visited a number of churches since moving to Dallas. There are no shortage of churches to visit here, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ve been to some that are big, some that are small. Some that emphasize community, some that emphasize relevancy. Some that are firmly founded in Biblical principles and others whose pastors forgot to use the Bible in their entire sermon. Some with sound theology and some with… well… questionable theology.
As of late I’ve been visiting Watermark Community Church. At first I was hesitant of this particular body because upon reviewing every single line of their entire website, I learned that they were building a new facility to accommodate their growth, and that the building was to include a coffee shop. For some reason I’ve never liked coffee shops that were built in churches. I’m sure I’ve got some decent reasons for my dislike of said shops (perhaps one being that I don’t even like coffee), and I’m sure that many of the churches who’ve included shops on their campuses have good reasons too.
My second week at Watermark the guy sitting next to me learned that I was a visitor, and he immediately wrote down his email address and encouraged me–genuinely, not obligatorily–to contact him if I ever wanted to go to church with someone as opposed to flying solo. (Now keep in mind that I don’t really fly to church, I drive in my car. If I flew to church every week, then my having a problem with the church putting in a coffee shop would be the least of my worries.) The single act of “Chewy” (that’s his nickname) giving me both a sincere invitation and an email address spoke volumes about the church. It really did. That kind of stuff should happen 1,500 times more than it does.
So after the service that week I filled out the ever-dorky visitor tab of the bulletin and put it in the tithe box for lack of other places to put it. I expected to hear back via a generic mass email or something within the week, but no such email ever found its way to my inbox. Tonight, three weeks later, I got a letter in the mail from Watermark with a hand-written note apologizing that the email failed to get to me. The girl who wrote the note actually printed the email and sent it snail mail style (which is certainly the first time I’ve ever received an email in my house mail box) with a note stating that she’d tried to send it before, but it continually failed to send. How’d that happen? Well apparently I have unintelligible handwriting, because Watermark thinks my name is Derrick Olives. They think my email is derrickolives@gmail.com, and they are wrong on both accounts. I am thankful that my last name is Oliver, and not Olives.
congestion?
One of the drawbacks to living in a major city is the lack of open space. Buildings and streets take up most of the space (all but the few acres of parks that cities thankfully spare), hindering, among other things, the view. One thing I love about many places I’ve visited in my life were open fields or overhanging cliffs where I could sit and watch the sunset (or rise, if I were so ambitious as to wake up early).
The other day I got off of work about an hour before sunset, so I decided to do the ol’ ride-my-bike-to-a-cool-place-and-watch-the-sunset. The place I had in my mind, a field, turned out to be the worst possible idea. There were buildings all over blocking my view of the westward sky. I was fortunate, however, to have one of those buildings be a parking garage. So I rode up six stories of steady incline to the top where I took a new kind of sunset picture: the kind that includes the building, as opposed to avioding them. I thought this building looked so cool as it reflected the sun. If you have bad vision you might even look at it and think that the building is all clear (and wouldn’t that be cool if it were?). So now I just need to find the tallest parking garage in the city and ride up it for my next photographic outing. I’ll be a happy rick.
(can you see downtown back there?)