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Three Little Pigs

In time past, though not long ago there lived pigs: in stature, little; in number three, who being of an age both entitled and inspired to seek their fortune did set about to do thusly.

When they had traveled a distance pig numbered first spake saying, “Harken Brethren! Heed this tempestuous realm. Tarry we long from hearth and home we shall fare, I fear, *snort* not well.”

And so being collectively agreed but individually impelled each to erect for himself and abode. Pig numbered one did construct his house from straw. Pig numbered two did likewise, though, rather, not from straw, instead from sticks. Meanwhile, unique in his imaginings, pig numbered three did erect his domicile. stalwart and garish, a structure made from brick entirely.

Soon there happened along, as is frequently the scenario in classic tale of protagonist pig or red-hooded child a wolf. Carnivorous nature in full season he called out to the straw ensconced swine saying, “Pray, thee, little pig, grant me entrance.”

But Pig One recalled with sage foreboding for he is mad who trusts in the tameness of a belly-pinched wolf and responded immediately, “Nay! It shall not be! Indeed, not by wit or whiskered Jowl!”

Prepared for this most expected response, the wolf replied immediately, “Then steel thyself little pig. Forthwith shall Endeavour by employing means both huffing and puffing to dismantle yon flaxen fortress.” Whereupon there issued for the from the wolf an exhale of gale proportions that quickly rendered yon hovel to dregs and dross and carried aloft pig and shattered quarters both.

Exposed now to claw and fang, Pig One made haste to the stick festoon sanctum of peccary secondary causing pig two to cry out in dismay, “Well! This knots my knickers! The marshalling to feral wolf to my doorstep is nowhere among those endeavors amenable or congenial.”

“A thousand pardons,” squealed One, “T’would seem the beast’s maimful breath has purged me of home and sound judgment alike!”

The mighty maelstrom of the wolf’s exhale splattered second swine’s shack and shortened his sanctimonious scolding simultaneously.

 “Lo! And Behold!” squealed two, “Stand we now among wooden wreckage tremulous and vulnerable.  We have nary a strategy for eschewing the canine devourer looming in deadly proximity.”

“Strategy!” Squealed One. “While ‘tis noble to contemplate tactical particularities, pressed as we are with the time restraint forbidding detailed strategical conversations, I would urge we RUN!”

“Weeweeeweeeweeeweeeweeewee!”

whether by their own fleet footed competence or the wolfs winless attitude, the diminutive swine arrived at their ultimate kindred neighbors inexpugnable brick ingress unscathed. Upon the third pigs door with urgent hooves they pounded calling out, “Unbar this entrance and with haste we beseech thee!”

The third pig hailed from the American Colonies, and possessing a vocabulary substantially less robust than his impromptu visitors, replied, “Say what?”

“Seek we sanctuary!” They implored, on the verge of hysteria, “Lest we fall forthwith on the ravenous appetency of yonder approaching carnivore!”

Still confounded by their importunate words, pig three did render agar his port hole whereupon one and two spilled through and collapsed beyond the threshold, enervated.

“So, y’all just wanted to come in? You could’a said that.”

The sinister hiss of the wolf could be once more heard outside, “Pray, thee, pigs, grant me entrance.”

“The wolf!” Said one and two.

“The wolf?” said three, “What’d ya suppose he wants?”

“He seeks to gain purchase within, indeed he would occupy this very alcove where he afforded the most meager of opportunities.”

“Right. I’m just gonna go ask him what he wants.”

“Under no circumstances!” Squealed two, flinging himself bodily against the porthole, “There is not to be gained accosting external opponent, save our own immediate demise!”

“What did you say about my Momma?!”

House and occupants were again engulfed in a malevolent blast of wolfish wind. The foundation shook, the frame rattled and lo, to the astonished eyes of pig and encroaching scoundrel alike, stood the third pigs lodging, undaunted.

Aghast and dismayed, pig two queried of three, “How does against such horrendous and torrential onslaught this domicile endure?”

Pig three, puffed out chest, tapped a hoof to the hearth, and responded, “Its American Made.”

Things I have named... Some of them at least.

In no order:

Bouncles- My bed

Nrogara - My Barahir Ring (read the name backwards)

Dink- Another bent up sterling silver ring

Promise- My titanium Wedding band

Shema- The ring with Deut. 6:4 in hebrew I got in Israel

Rebecca - Anyone who knows me knows who this is

Ember: My Firebird

Kisch- My old camera

Spark - My old Camcorder

Hunter - My Nodachi

Rayne - My Red-blade Katana

Icicle - A knife

Wolf - Another Knife

Voyager- Another Knife

Urban - My Ka-Bar (another knife)

Dumdum - My first cell phone

Phage - My Second Cell Phone

Flick- My third Cell phone

Tletc - My current cell phone

Zephyr - My Itouch

Lil’Pod - My Shuffle

Pixel - My DSLR

Wolvie - My leather Jacket

Harkness - My trench coat

Target - My Glock

Heavyarms- My Sig

Haus - My Drovers Hat

Smith - One fedora

Jones - The other Fedora

Trust - My Fob Watch

Littlestar - My star of David pendant

Sign - Messianic Symbol Pendant

Blackfoot - Fivefinger KSO’s

Leatherfoot - KSO Trek’s

Bag of Magic - Camera bag

Bag of pain - Knife bag

Trusting for 225

This is a post about nothing and everything. "State of the Sisson" address, I suppose. Read at your own risk.

This seems like a long time as i write this, yet at the same tim i remember two years ago when I thought 18 months was a long time at Verity. The difference between now and then is content expectation. Verity was a countdown of 18 months till i was DONE with something. Now I am in a countdown till I can BEGIN something. Verity time was filled with school, people and activity, but these next seven and a half months have no clear defining points, which makes the wait see much more daunting.
That is not to say there aren't things I need and want to do with the time I have left. There are alot of things that I want to do, and I have to work in the mean time. I've mentioned lists of things I'd like to do before: Learn Hebrew, write more, learn to dance, shoot more. In this list I am making progress on various parts. I dance once a week with the State Swing Society, and and getting better slowly. I have been writing more, though not a whole lot. I hopefully will be going to a shooting club on wednesdays. I would like to take up skating on sunday afternoons again, aswell.
Those are just the time occupying ones. There are also things as far as self improvement that I feel I need to do before I ship out. Discipline is a big one. I liked at school, knowing when I had to be up and in bed and to chapel and classes. I like structure, but structure is not something I seem to be able to maintain on my own. When I am the enforcer of my schedule, I fail. Yes I make it to work and meetings and events on time, because such things are not dependent or or structured around me. I structure around them.
Even outside of structure I have a hard time doing things I want to do. Reading my bible is a practice that is irregular at best. I work out hardly enough, considering the standards I need to meet before I leave. Anyone who knows me knows that my diet is important to me, yet again (as with daily disciplines) when i am responsible for feeding myself and arranging my meals, health becomes much less important. I'm in decent shape, and I knwo theology well enough to be an annoyance to friends who don't understand its importance. The fact is that i want to get better ad reading, working out and eating properly, but I can't.
In Highschool and before I had regular friends. Jordan Mears, Matt Lottes, and Trey & Tison back when I was 7-8. These were all guys who were close enough to me geographically that we would end up seeing each other most days. I've always been known to my family to be a social person, and those friendships were the necessary extension of that character trait. But now I find myself in an interesting social situation. I don;t have many close friends. That is to say that after School and Israel, I found that most of my friends live out of state. This obviously precludes the idea of proximity friendship I had before. I don't know anyone i can just DO things with. I am thankful for the Gaddies; Jed, Nikki and Vikki, who have introduced me to the dace club and let me tag along to moves and such. But they have their own lives, and seeing as they are, in majority, women, not people who I can just call and say "Hey, lets go do-"
The reason I find it hard to do more dancing and skating and shooting and even learning hebrew is that I'm doing it alone. Every one of those things I got into because someone introduced me to them.  I have also written before about the reason for my social nature: I see beauty and enjoy life vicariously. I like to dance with people who like to dance. I like to skate because the people I am with make it joyful. It would be the most amazing thing to learn a new language WITH someone.
Yet, I am leaving. Were I to leave right now, There isn't much in Mid-Michigan Id miss, think about, or worry about aside from my parents (and even they agree that it is past time for me to separate). There are other people, in other parts of the country i would think about and wonder and maybe even worry about, but I can't or don't really talk to them anyways.  I can say there are a few people I'd try to keep in contact with VIA FB (but this is hard for me, as, again, I prefer (even need) face to face interaction to really experience a person, FB friendships are unfulfilling).
I watched the documentary series "Carrier", which followed the USS Nimitz on a 6 month cruise. It made me want to leave sooner. Yet, at the same time, seeing life aboard a boat and the relationships and social life, I desired one thing more. I desired attachment. This is nothing new. I would love to leave part of myself behind with someone, to know they were waiting, and who I could live for while away. The first few months of school i skated and worked out and wrote for Laura. When that faded, those habits faded.
But do i really want to attach, or even have friends just long enough to leave them? I don't see myself coming back to this area to live for any length of time. And surely I'd find friends in the Navy, as I'd have that interpersonal proximity that was the foundation for my old friendships. Would it be fair to them? Would it be fair to me?
And for all the things I wish I could do, all the people I wish I could "hang out" with, my life is not conducive to such things. My scedule after the first of the year is such: Sunday I go to church and Skate, Monday I work, Tuesday I Have DEP Ed Meetings, then I dance; Wednesday are DEP meetings and shooting; Thursday I work, Friday and saturday I either work or study at home. Do I have time? No. Am i generally easy to befriend? No.
So what is the point? I have a lot i need to figure out before I leave. Rather, I have a lot I don't know. This is all stuff that I really can't do too much about. I don't think that anyone would really say their life is any clearer than mine. No one knows what will happen in the next 225 days. That's ok. I can (and sometimes do) stress about it, and subsequently am loosing my hair.
If nothing else, in Seven months I will look back and know that I am alone and unfulfilled now because G-d wanted me to be, and at that time, whether any of this has changed or not, I will be then what G-d will want me to be.
Trusting in G-d is not easy.

To those people who would say "Hey, well all the religions are the same,

…all roads lead to G-d anyway,”

What about the diferences?

“Well its all about love.”

Islam is not about love, it’s about submission. (and blowing up kids)

Christianity is not about love, it’s about reconciliation.

Buddhism is not about love, but escaping suffering.

Hinduism is not about love, but escaping the illusion of the world.

Love may be significant in each, but it is not the central message of each.

Why think a modest similarity is more important than the massive differences.

Growing in Thirds

I went dancing tonite for the third time with the State Swing Society. The first time I went, in costume, I was stiff. I left early cause I couldnt ask anyone to dance and couldnt make myself dance unless I knew that I knew how to do ti right. I couldin't relax, so I couldn't enjoy it.
Seven years. Seven years is about one third of my life now. I look back at that interval. Fourteen years ago I was seven years old. I don't remember anything from before then. Not a thing. At all. I remember a cake for my eight birthday. I think thats My earliest memory that I can recall without the aid of pictures to show me.
I remember Blake Chappel, who I considered my best friend. I remember feeling so dumb compared to him, but I was eight, and I didn't care. I was a Dumb kid. I used to feel ashamed of my childhood, not because I was a terrible child (though i might have been) but because i saw how really dumb I was. But at the time I thought I was dumb, and I didn't care. I knew when I was seven that I didn't know some of the things the other kids did. And I LOVED it. I was the weird, crazy, talkative, off the wall kid. I lived in my imagination.
Seven years ago I was fourteen. I'm not sure what happened this year, but things changed. I changed. I started that process of growing up. Maybe it was SSI, maybe it was changed in my family life, maybe it was something else, but for sure it was G-d in HIS sovereignty, shaping me into who he wanted me to be. However, whenever, why ever, that year my brain caught up. If there is any intelligence, any logic, any skill in me as far as thinking goes, it becan to develop when I was fourteen. I Corinthians 13:11 "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, thought like a child, argued like a child; now that I have become a man, I have finished childish ways." That verse fit me.
But with this most recent third of my life, I was an adult. Yes i made mistakes before, but they were the mistakes of a child: breaking two of moms china bowl in less than five minutes because I set them in the same place on the counter; bashing my head against a mailbox post cause I wasn't looking where I was going. As an adult, the mistakes you make are more subtle, but much bigger.
With my ability to think I slowly lost my childhood. That is obvious if you think about it. I no longer was content with being dumber, even if it meant I was no longer care-free. In fact I became quite the opposite of care free; you could say I became care-intensive. From fifteen to seventeen I became depressive because i over-thought everything. yet still had my childhood selfishness. Everything was about me, and when you think as much as I did, everything becomes bad.
By the time I got to my first job at sixteen, i was known by the people at work as "the guy who killed his inner child". No more naivete, which was good, no more dumbness, which was good, But also no more joy. No more carefree willing ness to accept life. I thought i was still that child, but I had become a hardened adult.
Through events In my life after high-school my heart was thawed and refrozen and thawed again as people came and went from my life. Now here I am, looking back on twenty-one years. I was Toad, then Nate, now Nathan.
I've swung through two extremes. I look back on the fourteen year old kid. Nate. He was so full of life. I sometimes think I dont experience half of what he did as I see the world. Sure, I've been more places, done more things, but there is a lot i haven't really SEEN.
As I danced tonite, the third time with this group, I was told i was too stiff. I was. I am. But I let go. For a while there, dancing with Vikki and Monica and the other girls who's names i have forgotten (yeah, that sounds good), I was able to dance. It may not seem like it to any reader, but for me it was big. I didn't have to know how to do the moves. I did them. I even kept time, but I wasn't trying to. I did part of a Martial Arts Kata to a song. I lookd so stupid, but I didn't care. I was fourteen again.
No, I'm not Nate, the carefree fourteen year old. I have harder eyes, a stronger body, and a more discerning heart. But for a few hours, to the right music, with the right people, I could dance.
I don't need angels to talk to me, to speak in a forgien toung that I don't really know, or get slain in the spirit. I can dance. I can close my eyes and say to G-d, "I'm a kid again. Look, G-d, I can dance. You made me to do this. You made me to see the world through hard eyes and thoughtful discernment, but you also made me a carefree kid. And that kid, who you made, is dancing."
I miss that kid i was sometimes. I miss being carefree and loose and lost in the world. But I like who I am, the conglomeration of that dumb kid, that selfish teen, and now this adult. I like who G-d made me.
If that makes any sense.

The Book that gives hope. (Why I'm not a charismatic theologian)

“The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart.” Where do you go to find joy? Where do you go to find happiness? Where do you go to find relief from sorrow, relief from depression, relief from anxiety? Where do you go? The Psalmist says, the voice of God says, “Go to the Word.”

 We’re not left without principles for life. People say, “Doctrine doesn’t matter.” Oh it matters. What does it mean to have a Bible and not understand its principles? You don’t want to wander around in a fog of human opinion. You have a true Word to follow.

And what is the product of this if you go on the right path? Rejoicing the heart. True joy, true joy. My joy comes from what I know to be true about God and His purposes. John writes, 1 John 1:4, “I write these things unto you that your joy may be full.”

I don’t need voices from heaven. I don’t need miracles. I don’t need to talk to angels. I don’t need supernatural experiences, neither do you. We don’t need visions. I don’t need to have some kind of vision to boost up my faltering faith. I know from the Word of God what is true, I know the path of truth in which I walk and in that path of truth I find my heart rejoices. Depression, anxiety, fear, doubt comes from not knowing, not believing, not trusting the truth revealed in Scripture.

 

(John MacArthur, "God's own defense of scripture")