In three days I will be out in the wilderness with 9 other guys, leading them on a 40 mile backpack trip. We will be carrying everything we need in the world on our backs, hiking like mules through the woods. It will be fun, whether they like it or not.
One of the things that strikes me as the leader of the trip is that the best way I can lead is by not. When I was in the 'organized religion' game, my task was clear - get everything prepared and planned and orchestrated so everything goes smoothly. My job was to have lesson plans prepared and activities all ready so that the 'schedule' went as planned. It's funny how different the world looks now. I know on every level of my being that doing all that would be stupid, because it would make the trip mine. Read in that last sentence the opposite of what I believe Papa wants. If it is mine, then it isn't His. If I plan it, it might go good, but it might also very much limit what He wants to do. I guess I am learning that to really follow in this season, I need to let go of a structure that probably wasn't of Him to begin with. For an ex-pastor, that is a little unsettling.
So we might get really lost in the woods this coming week. If we do, you'll know who's leading.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Lost in the dark
I have been out of town this weekend visiting some good friends in the Midwest. They have provided me with a wonderful room in the cool of the basement - away from the heat and humidity of the luxurious Midwest summer.
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night totally lost. I didn't know where I was, and I kept questioning over and over where Laura had disappeared to. I couldn't figure out why she wasn't next to me. I found myself stumbling through the pitch blackness trying to find a light switch, still clueless as to where I was. I fumbled against a few walls and finally found a switch. I didn't know where I was, and when the light went on, I couldn't figure out what my friends basement bathroom was doing at my house. It was a very strange feeling.
The journey with Papa has been taking me much in the same direction lately. Lots of stumbling in the dark and wondering where I am going. Sometimes I step outside myself and observe my life and wonder what the heck it is that I am doing. It used to be easy to answer that. Early in my faith the answers seemed simple and cut out for me. Now they seem obscured and vague. I used to think there was something wrong with that - that life shouldn't be that way if I was really walking with God. After all, He is a God of order, not confusion. But the farther I follow, the more the walk is about taking His hand than it is about knowing the next step or the right answers. The mystery becomes the journey - trusting Him even when the way isn't clear and doesn't make sense (especially then). Willingness to stumble becomes my act of faith, it is my act of worship.
I am learning to know His hand, His voice, His Spirit in the darkness. I am seeing that His presence is becoming more and more my desire. And easy answers that come conveniently and cheaply just don't cut it anymore.
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night totally lost. I didn't know where I was, and I kept questioning over and over where Laura had disappeared to. I couldn't figure out why she wasn't next to me. I found myself stumbling through the pitch blackness trying to find a light switch, still clueless as to where I was. I fumbled against a few walls and finally found a switch. I didn't know where I was, and when the light went on, I couldn't figure out what my friends basement bathroom was doing at my house. It was a very strange feeling.
The journey with Papa has been taking me much in the same direction lately. Lots of stumbling in the dark and wondering where I am going. Sometimes I step outside myself and observe my life and wonder what the heck it is that I am doing. It used to be easy to answer that. Early in my faith the answers seemed simple and cut out for me. Now they seem obscured and vague. I used to think there was something wrong with that - that life shouldn't be that way if I was really walking with God. After all, He is a God of order, not confusion. But the farther I follow, the more the walk is about taking His hand than it is about knowing the next step or the right answers. The mystery becomes the journey - trusting Him even when the way isn't clear and doesn't make sense (especially then). Willingness to stumble becomes my act of faith, it is my act of worship.
I am learning to know His hand, His voice, His Spirit in the darkness. I am seeing that His presence is becoming more and more my desire. And easy answers that come conveniently and cheaply just don't cut it anymore.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Freedom of religion
"When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to blah blah blah..." Sorry, that's all I can remember. I think it goes on to say that we choose freedom, and that it is our right.
So I wonder - how much freedom do we really live in? Freedom seems to get pared down a little. I am free to drive a car, but not free to drive it if I don't have a license and insurance. I am free to worship as I want, as long as I am willing to endure certain judgment and scrutiny from the 'main religion' of the country (which is supposed to be Christian - how can we have real freedom of religion if we define ourselves by a certain religion?) We have freedom to carry a weapon - to bear arms (but only in a very few states and only in certain ways). We have the freedom to go where ever we want whenever we want, but the law has the freedom to stop us where ever they want whenever they want (and to detain us without cause for a certain number of hours).
I see so many people who struggle with personal freedom, fighting two battles for that freedom. The first is freedom in the face of outside influences. Being out of the institutional church and believing that I am the church (and that 'church' isn't something you go to) has gotten me much scrutiny and judgment. How can I call myself a Christian (by the way, I prefer not to) if I don't go to church? I must be back sliding....
The second struggle that I see for personal freedom is in the battle with ourselves. Really living in freedom that is reigned over by the love of God is a terrifying thing. What I mean by that is that living in the freedom that Jesus died to give us means trusting God's love completely. It means choosing to agree with the truth that nothing can separate us from his love - not our exercising of freedom, not our belief system, and not our sin. It means choosing to believe that we really are free from any works to earn Papa's love, and it means that we have the freedom to screw up our lives just as much as we want and still be loved. It means that we stop trying to earn or control or deserve or manipulate God's 'already given' love.
I am continually appalled at how many people choose to be in jail, even after you throw the door open. Evidently freedom scares the hell out of people. Or maybe people have had the hell scared into them, and freedom from the damnation of hell is too terrifying. After all, there is something very comforting about knowing that we could just make one wrong choice and wind up in an eternal lake of fire. I had a therapist email me this week who had the courage to say that the number one thing that destroyed the spirits of the people he worked with was the hell doctrine abusively used by the religious institutions in his area. "If you can't win them to God, scare them to God". I wonder what happens to our freedom in the face of that belief system?
What if God loved you? What if there was nothing you could do about that? What if his love preceded his holiness, his vengeance, and his wrath? What if he actually WAS, in the every essence, love, and everything else was man's distortion of Him? How would that change your freedom?
So I wonder - how much freedom do we really live in? Freedom seems to get pared down a little. I am free to drive a car, but not free to drive it if I don't have a license and insurance. I am free to worship as I want, as long as I am willing to endure certain judgment and scrutiny from the 'main religion' of the country (which is supposed to be Christian - how can we have real freedom of religion if we define ourselves by a certain religion?) We have freedom to carry a weapon - to bear arms (but only in a very few states and only in certain ways). We have the freedom to go where ever we want whenever we want, but the law has the freedom to stop us where ever they want whenever they want (and to detain us without cause for a certain number of hours).
I see so many people who struggle with personal freedom, fighting two battles for that freedom. The first is freedom in the face of outside influences. Being out of the institutional church and believing that I am the church (and that 'church' isn't something you go to) has gotten me much scrutiny and judgment. How can I call myself a Christian (by the way, I prefer not to) if I don't go to church? I must be back sliding....
The second struggle that I see for personal freedom is in the battle with ourselves. Really living in freedom that is reigned over by the love of God is a terrifying thing. What I mean by that is that living in the freedom that Jesus died to give us means trusting God's love completely. It means choosing to agree with the truth that nothing can separate us from his love - not our exercising of freedom, not our belief system, and not our sin. It means choosing to believe that we really are free from any works to earn Papa's love, and it means that we have the freedom to screw up our lives just as much as we want and still be loved. It means that we stop trying to earn or control or deserve or manipulate God's 'already given' love.
I am continually appalled at how many people choose to be in jail, even after you throw the door open. Evidently freedom scares the hell out of people. Or maybe people have had the hell scared into them, and freedom from the damnation of hell is too terrifying. After all, there is something very comforting about knowing that we could just make one wrong choice and wind up in an eternal lake of fire. I had a therapist email me this week who had the courage to say that the number one thing that destroyed the spirits of the people he worked with was the hell doctrine abusively used by the religious institutions in his area. "If you can't win them to God, scare them to God". I wonder what happens to our freedom in the face of that belief system?
What if God loved you? What if there was nothing you could do about that? What if his love preceded his holiness, his vengeance, and his wrath? What if he actually WAS, in the every essence, love, and everything else was man's distortion of Him? How would that change your freedom?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Oil Pump For the Harley
I have this old Harley. It isn't anything very valuable. It is really just a bunch of parts with a frame and wheels. Most of the time when people read 'Harley' they think big roaring bike with lots of chrome that costs more than a small house. When I talk about 'Harley' in this blog, picture a big cardboard box with parts, gaskets, old pencils, and grease stains. The cool part of my old Harley is that it was made the same year I was born. That might be the only cool thing about it.
The oil pump (a very necessary part) was broken off, and in need of replacement, so I have been looking for 3 months now for a 'together' oil pump. I have bought two that were the wrong ones. I counted the holes and studied the pictures, but I just hadn't been able to get it right. Finally, on the third try, I think I got it. I still need to swap some parts from the old pump to make the new one work, but it's close. I have all the gaskets and "O" rings and gears - and I think I can finally put the thing together and on the motorcycle.
You are probably reading this and thinking to yourself "Who really cares - I'm not into motorcycles- and what the heck is an oil pump?" I understand. One of my boys is REALLY into trains, and he can bore me to tears within seconds as he goes on and on and on about trains. It isn't my intention to bore you to tears with my dumb Harley. I wanted to make a point.
I have been into bikes for years. I have had well over 60 bikes in my lifetime. Usually I really get engrossed in rebuilding or discovering how they work. I have enjoyed it as a hobby since I was 20 something. And the same thing happens every time - a process I want to pass on to you.
When that box of greasy parts gets dumped on the floor of my garage, I know nothing about it. It is actually overwhelming and a little scary. Then many months later (and after being completely covered in grease) it roars to life and actually has wheels, and somewhere between box and wheels, it becomes a motorcycle. What's more - it becomes MY motorcycle. I know every bolt, every nut , every cable and gear - I can even tell you where the oil pump is, what model it is, and where to get the right one if you need one. I KNOW the bike - it is mine.
Sometimes I get lost in my relationship with God. How am I supposed to have 'relationship' with someone that mystical and unknowable? I guess by taking all the pieces I have and combining them with the pieces I gather, and trusting that in the process of discovery, I will know Him intimately in the process of putting together my faith. It is something you have to get dirty doing.
I see a lot of people who want to just go out and spend $20,000 on a new Harley, getting it just the way they like it, and they can't even tell you where the oil pump is. I want a relationship with a living God that I have to wrestle with to know - that teaches me 'hands on', and I don't mind that I might get really dirty in the process. Because as my faith and relationship with Him roar to life, there is a 'knowing' that goes beyond simply 'buying'.
The oil pump (a very necessary part) was broken off, and in need of replacement, so I have been looking for 3 months now for a 'together' oil pump. I have bought two that were the wrong ones. I counted the holes and studied the pictures, but I just hadn't been able to get it right. Finally, on the third try, I think I got it. I still need to swap some parts from the old pump to make the new one work, but it's close. I have all the gaskets and "O" rings and gears - and I think I can finally put the thing together and on the motorcycle.
You are probably reading this and thinking to yourself "Who really cares - I'm not into motorcycles- and what the heck is an oil pump?" I understand. One of my boys is REALLY into trains, and he can bore me to tears within seconds as he goes on and on and on about trains. It isn't my intention to bore you to tears with my dumb Harley. I wanted to make a point.
I have been into bikes for years. I have had well over 60 bikes in my lifetime. Usually I really get engrossed in rebuilding or discovering how they work. I have enjoyed it as a hobby since I was 20 something. And the same thing happens every time - a process I want to pass on to you.
When that box of greasy parts gets dumped on the floor of my garage, I know nothing about it. It is actually overwhelming and a little scary. Then many months later (and after being completely covered in grease) it roars to life and actually has wheels, and somewhere between box and wheels, it becomes a motorcycle. What's more - it becomes MY motorcycle. I know every bolt, every nut , every cable and gear - I can even tell you where the oil pump is, what model it is, and where to get the right one if you need one. I KNOW the bike - it is mine.
Sometimes I get lost in my relationship with God. How am I supposed to have 'relationship' with someone that mystical and unknowable? I guess by taking all the pieces I have and combining them with the pieces I gather, and trusting that in the process of discovery, I will know Him intimately in the process of putting together my faith. It is something you have to get dirty doing.
I see a lot of people who want to just go out and spend $20,000 on a new Harley, getting it just the way they like it, and they can't even tell you where the oil pump is. I want a relationship with a living God that I have to wrestle with to know - that teaches me 'hands on', and I don't mind that I might get really dirty in the process. Because as my faith and relationship with Him roar to life, there is a 'knowing' that goes beyond simply 'buying'.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
A Jerk Making Jerky
I am getting ready for our men's coaching backpack trip in two weeks. I wanted to spoil them a little bit, so I am busy making beef jerky today. I know that you can buy the stuff for $4 at any grocery store, but it tastes more like beef manure than beef jerky. And the things they put into it! You think hot dogs are bad?
So I go get round steak and have it sliced, then marinate it for a day or so (custom creating the marinate of course), drip dry it all, put it in a smoker, and finally dehydrate it. It is quite a process. If you ever tasted it, you would see it was worth it. Every one of the guys on the trip - 10 of us - will get some of the home made jerky in their food bag. Some will like it. Some won't. I'll shoot the ones who don't, probably taking the jerky out of their packs before pushing their bodies off a cliff somewhere in the back wilderness. (Not really :))
As I labor, I ask myself why I don't just go get jerky from the store. Besides the obvious answer that what I am making is a heck of a lot healthier, I sit and wonder why I am working so hard and long for something they might not even appreciate.
For years everything I did had to benefit me somehow. If I wasn't going to get something out of it, I wouldn't do it - whether a friendship or a job I was doing or anything. I guess I was sort of a jerk (more than I am now that is). I might get something out of this - guys might stop midway on the trail, pause as they chew their jerky, and shout from the top of their lungs "This is the best jerky I have ever had!!", but I doubt it. Or one of them might read this blog and make a big deal about it just to give me a hard time. I don't know. What I do know is that I am making the jerky because I want to love these guys. It is a way of serving them. What's cool is that for the first time in my life I am cool with not getting noticed or appreciated or praised for it. I just wanted to serve.
I have always been one of those up front kinda guys. I do well leading, but not serving. I like being noticed I guess. This time it feels good to serve without the notice. And without as much 'jerk'.
And besides, I really like beef jerky.
So I go get round steak and have it sliced, then marinate it for a day or so (custom creating the marinate of course), drip dry it all, put it in a smoker, and finally dehydrate it. It is quite a process. If you ever tasted it, you would see it was worth it. Every one of the guys on the trip - 10 of us - will get some of the home made jerky in their food bag. Some will like it. Some won't. I'll shoot the ones who don't, probably taking the jerky out of their packs before pushing their bodies off a cliff somewhere in the back wilderness. (Not really :))
As I labor, I ask myself why I don't just go get jerky from the store. Besides the obvious answer that what I am making is a heck of a lot healthier, I sit and wonder why I am working so hard and long for something they might not even appreciate.
For years everything I did had to benefit me somehow. If I wasn't going to get something out of it, I wouldn't do it - whether a friendship or a job I was doing or anything. I guess I was sort of a jerk (more than I am now that is). I might get something out of this - guys might stop midway on the trail, pause as they chew their jerky, and shout from the top of their lungs "This is the best jerky I have ever had!!", but I doubt it. Or one of them might read this blog and make a big deal about it just to give me a hard time. I don't know. What I do know is that I am making the jerky because I want to love these guys. It is a way of serving them. What's cool is that for the first time in my life I am cool with not getting noticed or appreciated or praised for it. I just wanted to serve.
I have always been one of those up front kinda guys. I do well leading, but not serving. I like being noticed I guess. This time it feels good to serve without the notice. And without as much 'jerk'.
And besides, I really like beef jerky.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Livin Simple
We just got back from a week in the woods. Backpacking has been my favorite sport for almost 25 years, and yet every time I get out there toting a pack, I am taken with how much I don't really need. When you walk the trail for a few days, life takes on a more simple style. The necessities are really all that matter - water, some food, a bed, a tent to get out of the rain. That's about it. Everything else that we define as 'necessity' is really about luxury.
After sleeping on the ground a week, we hit the road home. Boy, was that a weird experience. When backpacking, you watch the trail go under your feet, mile after mile. Sitting in the car we watched the road go under our feet, mile after mile, but it was a whole lot easier. All I had to do was push a little pad under my right foot and we sped down the road. My hips hurt a lot less. The weight on my back was a lot less, and the breeze through the window was a lot cooler.
But every mile we drove away from that simple mountain life I had been living the previous week brought more and more stuff into my mind - all I had to do, all the catching up I had to make up for, all the 'stuff' of life that pressed into my mind as we grew closer and closer to home and the official end of the trip. It was depressing.
Why can't we live light in life, back here in the real world? Why does it have to be so busy, so complicated, so noisy? Was this 'way' we live really God's plan for us? I mean, is this the style of life that He wanted for us? So much of what we do is to keep the big machine of our lives running. We make money to pay bills. We pay bills so we can live in this crazy culture. Things like insurance payments don't mean much out in the woods. But in the 'real' world, I MUST have insurance. The option of actually trusting Papa in an everyday life isn't an option. Car payments, gas payments, electric payments, insurance payments, utility payments, cat litter, Netflix, advertising costs, blah, blah blah! How much of it will matter in 50 years?
The sad part is I can't live light in this world. I can live lighter, but I can't live very light. The machine of our culture demands that I carry a heavier pack than I really want to carry. It is no wonder so much of our society is depressed, overworked, and pretty downright unhappy.
I want to live light. I want to live free. I want to unplug from the machines that control how we live. I am seeing that unplugging from the institutional church is only one plug of many in my life. And the question goes through my mind that says "Where is a point where unplugging from the machine might be unplugging my life support?" And "Shouldn't Jesus be my life support?"
After sleeping on the ground a week, we hit the road home. Boy, was that a weird experience. When backpacking, you watch the trail go under your feet, mile after mile. Sitting in the car we watched the road go under our feet, mile after mile, but it was a whole lot easier. All I had to do was push a little pad under my right foot and we sped down the road. My hips hurt a lot less. The weight on my back was a lot less, and the breeze through the window was a lot cooler.
But every mile we drove away from that simple mountain life I had been living the previous week brought more and more stuff into my mind - all I had to do, all the catching up I had to make up for, all the 'stuff' of life that pressed into my mind as we grew closer and closer to home and the official end of the trip. It was depressing.
Why can't we live light in life, back here in the real world? Why does it have to be so busy, so complicated, so noisy? Was this 'way' we live really God's plan for us? I mean, is this the style of life that He wanted for us? So much of what we do is to keep the big machine of our lives running. We make money to pay bills. We pay bills so we can live in this crazy culture. Things like insurance payments don't mean much out in the woods. But in the 'real' world, I MUST have insurance. The option of actually trusting Papa in an everyday life isn't an option. Car payments, gas payments, electric payments, insurance payments, utility payments, cat litter, Netflix, advertising costs, blah, blah blah! How much of it will matter in 50 years?
The sad part is I can't live light in this world. I can live lighter, but I can't live very light. The machine of our culture demands that I carry a heavier pack than I really want to carry. It is no wonder so much of our society is depressed, overworked, and pretty downright unhappy.
I want to live light. I want to live free. I want to unplug from the machines that control how we live. I am seeing that unplugging from the institutional church is only one plug of many in my life. And the question goes through my mind that says "Where is a point where unplugging from the machine might be unplugging my life support?" And "Shouldn't Jesus be my life support?"
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Hay!!
For the last week we have had friends out visiting our little ranch. It has been absolutely wonderful having them here. There has been time to catch up and fellowship and eat way too much ice cream - just like heaven on earth.
Today my buddies Mark and Carol and I were getting hay for our horses. We drove south a half hour and pulled into the ranch where they raised hay - that's where you get hay - from a hay ranch. You can't get it at the grocery store anymore. Guess it wasn't a big seller. But for this guy it sure is. He has a couple thousand acres of nothing but hay. We backed up to the barn and started loading bales just like we knew what we were doing. I could feel the cowboy swagger take hold of me as I shinnied up to the rail and asked him how much I owned him. (To read this properly, you have to read slowly and with a southern drawl).
When we got home, Mark and I cleaned out the shed and stacked the bales in the barn. It was actually fun. Not the hay part, but the hanging with a brother working with my hands stuff. Mark and I used to do activities like clean up houses and barns and workshops, always finding something to put our hands to, but it had been a long time. It felt so good to just be a guy with another guy. We didn't have to talk. We just worked, throwing bales like we were real men (of course Carol had thrown bales equally as well earlier, but throwing bales still made us feel like men).
The Bible says that where ever two or more are gathered, the spirit of God will be in our midst -that we would be the church when we were gathered - whether we were singing songs or throwing bales. Today I am glad to be the church, and to thank my Papa for the simple grace of some good physical labor.
Let's see you do THAT in a Sunday morning service!!
Today my buddies Mark and Carol and I were getting hay for our horses. We drove south a half hour and pulled into the ranch where they raised hay - that's where you get hay - from a hay ranch. You can't get it at the grocery store anymore. Guess it wasn't a big seller. But for this guy it sure is. He has a couple thousand acres of nothing but hay. We backed up to the barn and started loading bales just like we knew what we were doing. I could feel the cowboy swagger take hold of me as I shinnied up to the rail and asked him how much I owned him. (To read this properly, you have to read slowly and with a southern drawl).
When we got home, Mark and I cleaned out the shed and stacked the bales in the barn. It was actually fun. Not the hay part, but the hanging with a brother working with my hands stuff. Mark and I used to do activities like clean up houses and barns and workshops, always finding something to put our hands to, but it had been a long time. It felt so good to just be a guy with another guy. We didn't have to talk. We just worked, throwing bales like we were real men (of course Carol had thrown bales equally as well earlier, but throwing bales still made us feel like men).
The Bible says that where ever two or more are gathered, the spirit of God will be in our midst -that we would be the church when we were gathered - whether we were singing songs or throwing bales. Today I am glad to be the church, and to thank my Papa for the simple grace of some good physical labor.
Let's see you do THAT in a Sunday morning service!!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Too %#@!*&$ Busy
"Ugh! It's the first of July and the summer feels half over and I haven't gotten a thing done."
As I write that, I notice that it is mostly true. And very boring. Who cares that my summer is busy? I get busy because I let myself get busy. It isn't rocket science. The more stuff I cram in, the less time I have to......
That's the question isn't it. If I had more time, what would I do with it? Fill it full of more stuff to do probably. And to what end? So I could say, with all authenticity "my summer is half over and I haven't gotten a thing done".
Why do we think that more stuff and more activity and more frenzy makes us 'more' people? What it does is makes us stressed, angry, grumpy, and empty. (Sounds like the 7 dwarfs doesn't it?)
So what would it be like to be different? Well, I can think of a couple things. One might be to slow down, to more fully enjoy what we have without cramming in more 'don't have'. Another might be to work at being fully present in whatever we are doing, really savoring all that is in our day. A third option might be to stop a moment, take a picture of the reality of our lives, and choose to live a little counter cultural. We could choose to challenge the demand inside and outside that says we should 'do' more. We could stand in the face of a world that values too much activity and that tells us we are nothing if we don't accomplish. We could unplug and disengage and walk with Jesus, not the rat race.
I'm not going to write any more right now. It would just give us both something more to do, and I don't think that's what we really need.
I have a client that I work with that has come up with a profound 'mantra'.
Move Slower
Breathe Deeper
Listen More Often
Be with Jesus this summer........
As I write that, I notice that it is mostly true. And very boring. Who cares that my summer is busy? I get busy because I let myself get busy. It isn't rocket science. The more stuff I cram in, the less time I have to......
That's the question isn't it. If I had more time, what would I do with it? Fill it full of more stuff to do probably. And to what end? So I could say, with all authenticity "my summer is half over and I haven't gotten a thing done".
Why do we think that more stuff and more activity and more frenzy makes us 'more' people? What it does is makes us stressed, angry, grumpy, and empty. (Sounds like the 7 dwarfs doesn't it?)
So what would it be like to be different? Well, I can think of a couple things. One might be to slow down, to more fully enjoy what we have without cramming in more 'don't have'. Another might be to work at being fully present in whatever we are doing, really savoring all that is in our day. A third option might be to stop a moment, take a picture of the reality of our lives, and choose to live a little counter cultural. We could choose to challenge the demand inside and outside that says we should 'do' more. We could stand in the face of a world that values too much activity and that tells us we are nothing if we don't accomplish. We could unplug and disengage and walk with Jesus, not the rat race.
I'm not going to write any more right now. It would just give us both something more to do, and I don't think that's what we really need.
I have a client that I work with that has come up with a profound 'mantra'.
Move Slower
Breathe Deeper
Listen More Often
Be with Jesus this summer........
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