Sedgewick Couldn’t Sleep

It was a cold November night and Sedgewick couldn’t sleep. The full yellowish moon shone brightly outside his window, laying a patch of moonshine across his bedspread, from his neck to his knees. Sedgewick had given up fidgeting. Constantly rolling over and resettling, pulling his blanket tighter and shifting his pillow around didn’t accomplish anything. He had already resigned himself to a sleepless night, and was lying perfectly still on his back, allowing his mind to race and flow in a million directions.

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Get Out of School Early

A profound and disturbing notion occurred to me the other day. We received our registration materials at school this week, and while planning for next semester I determined that it’s possible for me to graduate a semester early. Thus saving a semester’s worth of tuition and entering the real world a full four or five months earlier. Entering the real world. A real job. A real apartment. A real paycheck. Real bills. Real life. Whoa. I found the concept a little staggering as it settled into my head. It draws a million questions of what I want to do and where I want to go. It draws more properly phrased questions of what God wants to do with me and where he wants me to go. I’m in my third year of college and the reality of school being over and employment beginning has always been a safely distant thought. Now the idea is slightly more than a calendar year away. The thought frightens me.

Where am I going to get a job? What exactly do I want to do? Where do I want to live? Who do I want to live with? Whoa, easy. Here, take a seat for a minute. I’m swimming in questions and all I can do is look up for the Lifeguard. I know he has the plan and he has the answers. I understand that. But I don’t yet see the plan and I don’t yet see the answers and the apprehension fills me. It’s my human reaction and somehow I have to let it go. Otherwise I’ll be kicking and screaming and the Lifeguard will never be able to show me that I’m drowning in the kiddie end of the pool.

So You’ve Got Mono

For those of you eagerly awaiting the update on my medical condition, good news, I have mono! Well, it’s not really good news. The fun part is that I got a pamphlet in my post office box entitled “So You’ve Got Mono.” Hopefully I’ll get better soon. Until then I have an excuse to fall asleep in class. Today’s pondering is more about Sedgewick. You’re probably wondering if I’m just getting lazy here and giving you assignments from one of my classes. Sadly, the answer is yes. But I have mono, so you’re supposed to pity me and have mercy.

Shopping Spree at a Toy Store

The music blared, the people screamed, and the counter echoed. Lights were flashing and brightly colored balloons kept falling from the ceiling. But Sedgewick ignored all that. He had won a five minute, no holds barred shopping spree at the local toy store. That means Sedgewick had five minutes to run through the store and fill up as many shopping carts as he could with whatever he wanted. Whatever was in his shopping carts at the end of the five minutes was his to take home. It was the prize any kid would die for. And Sedgewick had won. His grandmother had entered him a year ago when they last visited the toy store.

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Self Absorbed When You’re Sick

I think the sore throat is finally passing. I know you’ve all been terribly worried about my medical condition, so I thought the least I could do was keep you updated. The one thing I hate about being sick is how you lose touch with everything. I haven’t followed my daily routine in weeks, which I suppose could be a good thing. I also haven’t spent time with God in a while. You’d think while lying half asleep in bed you’d have time to talk to God, but no. The only thoughts are echoing choruses of ‘get better.’ It seems like we get a little self absorbed when we’re sick. Some people say sin is a sickness.

Explaining My Absence

Hey, I’m back. Sorry for the extended absence there. I thought I was finally over my sickness, and then BAM, severe sore throat for four days. Plus my mom came to visit this weekend. Which always helps. Severe sore throats deserve some mothering. I’m still not over it yet, and I’m going to see the doctor tomorrow. Hopefully this will get taken care of soon, because I’m not only following behind on my ponderings, but my school work as well. I thought tonight I’d share some more about Sedgewick.

Sedgewick and Music

After Sedgewick came home from school and finished the snack his grandmother made for him, he always liked to go find his grandfather and see what he was up to. He’d sneak around like a detective until he finally found his grandfather. Some days Sedgewick would then just walk up and say hi. But other days, if his grandfather was doing something really interesting, Sedgewick would stay back and watch from a distance. He usually did this when his grandfather was playing the guitar.

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I Like Making Stuff Up

I like writing. You get to tell stories. You get to make stuff up. Like Sedgewick. Say hi to Sedgewick. He’s seven. He’s in Mrs. Alabaster’s second grade class. He’s the second shortest in the class–only Molly is shorter, but she can run faster than Sedgewick can. Sedgewick is the kind of boy who’s quiet–not because he’s shy, but because he doesn’t know what to say. He’s the kind of kid who nobody notices until he does something wrong. Sedgewick shuffles to the bus stop by himself every morning in his light blue Converse sneakers. His backpack dwarves him, looming atop his shoulders. It’s a plain backpack, not a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers backpack or even a Mickey Mouse backpack. It’s just plain. But Sedgewick likes it, because it used to belong to his brother. Sedgewick’s hair is always messed up. It always looks like he just took off a sweatshirt with a tight neck. Sedgewick is the kind of kid who would pick dandelions for his mother, if his mother was still around. Instead he gives them to his grandmother, who always thanks him and puts them in a vase on the kitchen table. This always makes Sedgewick smile.

That’s why I like writing. I just created the seven year old character, Sedgewick. He doesn’t exist until I say he does, and he has no traits until I give them to him. And it’s not that I like it because it’s a power trip. I like it because characters themselves are powerful. I can create in my readers certain feelings for Sedgewick, based solely on the type of character he is. That’s fun. It’s also kind of like creating your own cast of imaginary friends.

I don’t have to be deep everyday, do I?

Pleasantville

Is a movie a movie, or does it have to be perfect? Is a story a story, or does it have to be perfect? Or are we content with a plot that opens our minds and makes us think, or does it have to present to us what we already know in a nice little package? Why is it that as Christians we ask Hollywood to put out a movie that expresses Christian values, and yet when they come close, we bash the movie for not meeting our high standards. I dare say the Bible probably doesn’t meet our high standards. And why do we want Hollywood to make a movie about everything we already know about? My only guess is so it can be a perfectly packaged witness. My friends, a Christian witness is not going to come packaged in VHS format. It comes from our lives, our actions, our choices. No movie will ever perfectly capture the message of salvation that our world needs to hear. A movie may come close, and yet be only grasping at straws, and yet Christians still complain that it’s not good enough.

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Did Today Really Happen?

Sometimes days go by and I just have to wonder if it really happened. You strain to keep your eyeballs open in one class, you watch the seconds slowly tick by in another, and another class is just a fun mental exercise–an intellectual island in the middle of an otherwise checked out day. It’s one of those days where you need to take a nap before noon. One of those days where your burger sits cold at lunch as you try to cram in the reading for the afternoon class. One of those days where the evening blurred by and before you know it your other commitments crowd in and you haven’t accomplished a thing. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, I just have to wonder where my day went. And as I wonder where it went, I realize where my day never went. My Bible still sits on the shelf, a day’s worth of dust collected on the cover. Is 11:55 PM too late?

A work-at-home dad wrestles with faith, social justice & story.