a love story.

Once upon a time…there was a charming prince who decided to take his beautiful princess on their very first adventure of a new life together.

The adorable couple left Saturday afternoon, August 1^st, 2009, driving Luna, their sturdy steed, to visit the prince’s family up north at Lake Ann Camp. On the way up they listened to a cd of their favorite songs Zack made and dreamed about their future together. The pair pulled into the camp around 6:30pm and met Becky (Zack’s mom/the Queen) at their cabin, which Zack left shortly after to help his dad build paintball forts for their paintball game the next day (which was entirely not true). Becky and Kristin got dressed for the nice dinner they were going out to later and then drove up to see the progress the boys were making. Meanwhile, up at the “paintball field,” Zack, Kent, and his brothers were arranging Pine Chapel for the engagement.

Becky drove Kristin to Pine Chapel, which is situated in a large pine forest at the edge of Lake Ann Camp. Becky stopped the car, led Kristin to the path, hugged her, told her she loved her, and then left her at the start of the winding trail that led to the chapel.

The path started with an envelope and scattered rose petals. The envelope contained a picture of Zack holding a sign with the letter “I” at the park where he asked Kristin to be his girlfriend four years ago. She then walked down the path and encountered five more envelopes, the second at the field where they had their first kiss with him holding a sign saying “WILL”. The third picture was of Zack holding a sign with the word “LOVE” at the overlook where he told Kristin he loved her. The fourth picture was of him holding a sign with the word “YOU” at a park downtown in Holland where they had their first date. The fifth picture was of Zack at his grandparent’s beach, a place very dear to the couple, holding a sign that said “FOREVER.”

The fifth envelope was at the start of the final walk. The path was marked with rose petals and lined with clear vellum bags with votive candles inside. Each bag had something Zack loved about Kristin on it. Kristin slowly made her way, reading each bag, absorbing the romance, until she was to a circle of bags with the final envelope. The final envelope was empty and had a Polaroid camera next to it for her to take the final picture. Zack then stepped out from behind a tree holding the last sign, which read “MARRY ME MARIE.”

He asked her to take the last picture with the five previous signs nailed on trees behind him (“I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER”) and with him holding his final sign, “MARRY ME MARIE.” The picture didn’t take (they got it later though!), and being so impatiently excited Zack told her to forget it. She promptly did so and jumped into his strong, muscular, tan arms.

Zack, after he had kissed her, slowly kneeled with ring in his hands. He proceeded with roughly the following proposal: “Kristin, I promise you that I will love you and no one else forever. I don’t want another girl to start a family and honor God with. Kristin, will you marry me? Please?” As you can imagine, Kristin could in no way turn down such an amazing, magical, perfect offer and responded with a very elated “YES!”

The charming prince and beautiful princess shared a few more delightful kisses before ringing a large bell, signaling the arrival of beaming Dad, Mom, and Brothers Wallace. The rest of the fairytale night included a fancy, family dinner and a prayerful walk around Lake Ann Camp with memories and dreams galore.

The jubilation carried through to the next day where a surprise engagement party thrown by Kristin's family awaited the couple when they arrived home. All of Kris's friends thought they were surprising her for a back-to-school party when instead they were surprised by the new "bling" on her left hand. The rest of the day was spent in engagement bliss with Dad, Mom, and Brother Merkle (Jackie & Lance too). It was a perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

Zackary and Kristin are hoping for a summer wedding in 2010 if the Lord so wills. They request prayer for Zack to find work in Chicago and for them to draw closer to God as they draw closer to one another.

The charming prince and beautiful princess are currently living happily ever after…

mustard.

I was talking with a brother. Drifting through uncertainties of our future, memories of our past, dreams of tomorrow, pain from yesterday and through the haze of comfortable conversation formed an image.

That image was a seed. A small and bitter thing. a thing with time grows roots and strengthens. From those roots comes a beautiful catastrophe of earthquakes and mountain moving. That seed, capable of tremendous influence. Capable of creating a movement through generations. Holds the power to rip lives apart…

Sits in our refrigerators. A yellow spread accentuated perfectly with a pickle. Mustard.

We drifted, as I said, and the conversation moved to smaller then deeper than larger than smaller again and eased into the peace of steady breath and serotonin rejuvenation.

But that seed clings to my heart and makes me wonder. The power of a thing without substance. Not like air or time but of an unequivocal depth.

A thing to kill children for.

A thing to breathe for.

A thing to walk into fire for.

A thing to open arms to knives for.

A thing to weep for.

A thing of sacrifice.

A thing of hope.

A thing of life.

Faith. God’s fingerprint on our heart.

Faith. A mustard seed can move mountains. A belief that provides the power to overcome fundamental beliefs, cultural limits, primal rules.

I evaluate my heart often. I feel it provides for an honest opinion on what I do everyday. But I'm always left at the question how large is my faith. How deep is my faith. How powerful is my faith.

If my faith is large, deep and powerful than I am no longer touched by the insecurities of this temporal sphere. I become a man so resonant with the assurance of my Lord Jesus that death; pain, misfortunate, poverty, illness, disparity, wellness, prosperity, goodness and blessings no longer hold sway over my heart.

I desire to have one desire. yellow faith. Dripping off of my fingers. So soaked that nothing I touch or see is every dry again.

I want to move mountains. Even if its only the mountain of doubt in my life.

rivers.

im staring at this white box. thinking all sorts of clever things, unfortunately nothing original. its amazing how often we can remember other peoples creativity and brilliance. 

so as my dull and monotonous mind mulls things over like leaves and why the change color or why mosquitos have to replace the blood they take with irritating poison or why music can take the edge off a mood or why death is such a fascinating idea or why a blue sky is a lullaby and a star filled night a symphony or the sadness involved in the ability to talk with a stranger for ages but only a few minutes with a friend.

i guess through this myriad of randomness a contended haze fills my head. and i realize its okay to be blank. sometimes life slows down and its okay to drift.

rivers are a cool parallel. they rush and smash into rocks, beating things into oblivion while furiously pushing on. they slow down, lazily carrying themselves along. they fall and fall and fall to crash onto the rocks breaking themselves and swirling only to emerge strong. they dam up and pause, slowing to a trickle. but they consistently move, the pace changes, the things they carry vary but their always progressing. 

our life will move. whether we physically do or not, the earth turns. our life's pace alters from second to second. a rush to a trickle. a trickle to a steadiness. a steadiness to a fall. a fall to a rush. and so it goes. 

so when it slows learn to drift. when it rushes learn to breathe. when it falls learn to laugh. and when its steady appreciate what was and anticipate what is to come. 

the queen.

so my lovely girlfriend. (and when i say lovely i mean an adorable brown hair, blue eyed angel with the most horrific tendency to physically abuse me at a whims notice) so her. the beautiful doll of everlasting torment told me a story this evening. 

a small girl in her mother's library enjoys coloring. apparently she's quite creative. so magically inventive in fact that elizabeth taylor has decided to purchase them to decorate a children's museum. to which information i replied, "O, I was unaware the queen enjoyed art." 

the following interaction ensued...i laughed heinously in my chair with lovely abuser pounding away at my unprotected spleen, liver and other vital bodily parts.

for this story to be humorous. you have to know that elizabeth taylor is in fact not the queen of england but an actress and only an immature, sleep deprived, under paid delinquent would find it so amusing as to infuriate his beloved with such idiocy. so this post is for my sake. to remember and appreciate. 

and for you. i have only this tidbit of insight...toothpaste.

cyborgs.

ah. the enhancement of technology. the neural network of detachment. the fear of morality drives the imagination to prevent our eternal sleep. why lay down at 80 when you can run at 100? o your knees don't work? no worries. we have a pair in stock. bit by bit. you're replaced, "enhanced." 

where is the line. when your hips, knees, hearts, and eyes have all been replaced. when are you no longer? is it your fingerprints? your voice? your thoughts? where is the line of uniqueness. the specific part that can't be upgraded or replaced because it defines you? is there one?

so now i can leap a 100 feet. hold my breathe for 10 minutes. see in the dark ( i know you're devastated that those stars on your ceiling would become obsolete). my daily sustanence is a grape and quart of motor oil.  i am efficient and equipped. all happiness and opportunity at my feet. but if i limit my unhappiness. my obstacles. my hinderances. does my joy diminish? 

happiness and hinderance are correlated. i can't summit without a mountain. good is dependent on bad. in my limitations i am unique. eliminate my faults and i become merely a wave pounding the surf. 

there will be a day. when the enticement of enhancement will no longer exist. it will become a necessity for survival. and all men will become super. 

and if we were all supermen. than we would lose the man. 

 "...I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin...I'm claiming the right to be unhappy...not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphillis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind."

-Aldous Huxley, 

Brave New World

erasers.

i have pencils. the tools of sanity. i remember the first one i learned to write my name with. it was yellow and triangle. apparently  egronomical. at 7 i thought that meant cool. at 20 i still do.

but its ergonomics (though duly noticed and appreciated) aren't what always strike me about pencils. its the pink nubs of power at the end of each. the freedom to write with the rubber rationale of simple and effective redos. 

we often hold this tool where words, thoughts, fears, hopes can crawl from our mouths, down our arms, slide through our pencils and drag themselves onto the paper in their dull and annoyingly smudge prone characters. but with our hearts in our hands we are never truly defenseless. never truly vulnerable. 

is that what gives us courage? the awareness of an escape if needed. does it opens our minds. does it free our fingers to pick up that splinter of aromatic nostalgia. is that my armor. my shield. my lubricant. my empowerment. not the pencil but the eraser. the awareness that regardless of my vulnerability, its never permanent. 

so i sit. with a pencil. and paper. eraser ripped in half on the floor. begging to protect. and my heart steps out. timidly. hesitant in the first letters. but those first twists and scrapes of graphite onto recycled lines. liberate. 

my respect for speech now deepens. for the truth that James emparts. 

the power of my tongue. to love or kill. without a net to stop the drop.

i step through each day. with an eraser on my pencil but only lead in my mouth. 

and its more than liberation. 

its responsibility.