3 years ago

I am constantly reminded of the past. Today one of the pastors in our community passed away. He had been fighting brain cancer and The Lord finally took him home. His name is Brent Yim. He leaves behind his wife and two kids. I can't say that I know what his family is going through, but I can say that I've been close. I've been close enough to realize that this life is temporary and fragile. He passed away on this night, May 8th, 2012.

Three years ago on May 8th, 2009 my grandma Wanda passed away. I won't go on a rant about what happened, and how I felt, but I will say that it seems like 3 years have gone by in a blink.

I have a heart-full to say, but no more words to write.

Kale

The Five

I have to admit I was never in love, but only the idea of love.
Selfishness flooded every part and desire in me.
The idea was what consumed me.
I was never honest.
I was never worthy to be trusted.
It worked out the way it should have.

The love for the idea has always been there.
My heart was miles from yours yet close enough to be caught on fire.
I was looking for ways around your flaws.
I was looking for an island to hold on to.
I tried passing the lighthouse with a broken light.
But along the way I was caught in the rocks. Pity.

Now with you I hung on your tongue like a flame.
Every word you didn't speak was a thousand years of regret.
Every word you did speak built a tower with no foundation.
Your actions might have well been the straw that broke the camel's back.
You were the needle in the hay stack, I found it and put it back.
Now your gone in the wind, never knowing if you'll be back.
A new scent will surely come.

There were no words that gave my heart rest.
I tried and tried to be the best.
I let you go like a bottle in the sea.
Trying to find your way through the storms and tides.
All the time wishing you'd wash up by my side.
But you're anchored to the bottom, and I'm too scared to swim.
Drowning in the life you created, you can't pull yourself up.
Happiness is what you wanted, now silence is your loudest sound.

Now this time it was all my fault.
I put you there when I shouldn't have.
I beat you when I shouldn't have.
I tried to cover it up, but you saw right through.
I denied you. I rejected you.
I didn't even know you or love you at all.
I tried to go on without and I couldn't.
I tried to ignore you and still you showed up and called me out.
Like a summer storm the rain came and clouds were dark.
The clouds beckoned a roar and put up a fight.
The next day the sun was faithful to shine through.
Everything I did you let go.
I'm still learning to love and have faith in you.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."


- Kale

March 11, 2009... Part 2

It took me a while to be able to write this. Reflecting back on tragedy seems to bring out emotion, and something to be thankful for. So let this begin. If you haven't read part 1 do so here: http://calmcadence.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-11-2009-day-i-dont-normally-talk.html

Friday March 20th 2009 -

I woke up around my family in a hotel room down near the outskirts of town. We hurried to get ready in the morning, being five of us in a room meant for two. I remember getting ready that morning not knowing what to expect in the few hours when we would make that walk into the church sanctuary. I put my cloths on feeling underdressed. I wore a white button up shirt with jeans. We grabbed our stuff and walked out of the hotel lobby. We then proceeded to our car tired and weary from the other day's journey. We pulled up to the church, parking fairly far away because of the many people at this memorial service. We walked past the funeral car (I forget the name), and then into the foyer of the church. The spirits were up a bit from the previous day, but still everyone was sorrowful and full of greif. Perhaps the most shocking thing was seeing all of the people that came to the event. Too many to count in fact.

We went in to the sanctuary to find seats; there I remember sitting on the very outside of those red chairs on the diagonal left side. The stage was in plain view and so was the casket. The smell of flowers filled the entire room with an unforgettable fragrance. The service began, with music playing and preacher preaching. It wasn't exactly what you would expect. Somehow with all people, God and death are related, but that in itself is a whole other subject. The slideshow of my cousin's life in pictures began to play. As the pictures grew closer to the end of his life the tears began to flow more intensely. Then began the family members giving a speech. It wasn't of persuasion, because death of course is certain. They told what they remembered of him. They spoke of the good times. Even some of the bad. There was no way a grown man could even control a tear from falling. Yet I was far beyond that point. My throat was swelled up, as I was gasping for air, bawling my eyes out. I was only 14 years old at the time.

The palm bearers then began the treck to that fatal trunk of the Cadillac. The car drove away with the blue casket with red roses and a hedge of flowers on top. The close family and friends arrived at the cemetery. Some knowing already what to expect. The last words of the family were hard to bear, but saying good bye was the hardest part. Click, click, click, click, click, click was the only noise made when we watched the grave be filled. Everyone began walking away. I was there still, staring, wanting one more glimpse. Colin was there, and so was Caleb. I remember that moment as we stood by, with looks of helplessness on our faces. We walked away and went back to the house. Alcohol was on mostly everyone's legal aged minds. I could see why.

The mood was definitely better the rest of that Friday. The confirmation and closure were complete. It was time for jokes, stories, and laughter. Not like there hadn't been before, but they were just more prevalent. Some individuals went for a walk to a wildlife preserve near by, however Colin and I had other ideas. We went on top of the roof, for absolutely no reason at all. Heck, why not? It was the beginning of going back to normal, however normal would always have a huge, gaping whole in it. Time doesn't erase scars, it simply hides them from the mind. However there is always newness in Christ. Tragedy shapes the character, morals define it, and love makes it.

-Kale

Words Are Like Friends

Words can bless or destroy. Friends can build or curse. From the same heart you can love a friend, and from the same heart you can have feelings of hate towards someone. From the same mouth you speak words of encouragement and righteousness and from the same mouth you speak volgure comments and curse the ones around you. 
Words pass on and are lost with time. Friends forget you and lose contact with time.

I've seen your pain like I've seen others, like I've seen mine. Circumstances dictate your feelings, like they did mine. It's not about you or me, or the struggles we face. It's not about how happy we are, or what we have. It's not where we are or where we are going. It's about who we are. It's about who God calls us to be. The future isn't calling, the past isn't dragging. This is the present, you always told me you only live once. Exactly. You better make it count. What are you living for? There is certainly more to this life than fun, pain, and sorrow. There is more than the outside of ourselves. There is more than friends. There is more than anything you want to hold on to. There is more than what this world has to offer. Its time for healing, time to move on again. Face all the fears that held us down. Break down the walls that held in the tears. It's time to raise our arms and drop to our knees in surrender. It's time to be honest with ourselves and with others. What is a little trust going to hurt? What is a little courage to change?

Love is strange thing because with it words and friends have a correlation.

March 11, 2009... A day I don't normally talk about.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when it happened.

All seemed fine when I woke up for school. I went to school, first to guitar class, then to study hall, and then Spanish. It was a weird homeschool program I must add, but lets not get side tracked. This was March 11, 2009. Two years ago. I remember the day quite clearly. I got home from school and ate some lunch. Around 1 or 2 I went outside on my back patio and was shooting my newly acquired pellet gun.

My dad received a call. The next thing I knew he came outside to me, walking from his office, which is off on the left. He had the most terrible look of helplessness. A look you would never want to see. It was a man’s weakness. Nate died. My 28-year-old cousin.

I didn’t really know what to say. I hear my brother say “WHAT?” as if in shock. I look down at the ground and start shaking. I didn’t cry. It was as if I really never knew what happened. Death didn’t mean much to me at the time. I really didn’t know what it meant.

We all sat around looking at each other with looks of fright. You could just feel something in your heart wasn’t right. I couldn’t focus the rest of the day. I thought about it for days. A few days later my parents left to go on up to Idaho where the parents of my cousin lived. AKA my aunt and uncle. I was home with my brothers. We really didn’t talk a whole lot. But what we did talk about was some of our memories.

Time had come and gone. My head was full of thinking. Not crying, but thinking. As for others, I am sure there were tears. Lots and lots of tears.

Wednesday March 18, 2009 – 9:00 PM

I guess you could say this was the longest day(s) of my life. At 9:00 at night we left for the 16 hour drive to Boise. With some stops along the way, we made it there at around 3 in the afternoon the next day. We drove all through the night. I didn’t sleep very much in the car. We talked, listened to music, and complained. The sunrise of that Thursday was the most beautiful day I think I had ever seen. Off to the left, there were snow-covered mountains. To the right, a valley and more mountains. We were in Utah, and the night had finally gone away.

We stopped only for gas and food. We kept driving, despite the lack of sleep. The drive was long and boring. But the scenery was there to keep us company. We made it to Idaho. I remember seeing the side of the roads with a thin layer of snow, and passing onward, deep gorges. It was a journey, and a lot to take in. It was something we all never experienced.

We made it to the hotel we would be staying at, and met my mom there, as she was already there.  The lobby was nice, with the elevator off to the left. Unfortunately our room was above some automatic sliding door, which made a racket. I didn’t care. After that night, no one cared much.

We got cleaned up and fiddled around for a little bit. Then we left to go to Nate’s viewing. This was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.

We parked off to the right, sort of far away. As we walked closer to the doors of the funeral home we began to see relative’s cars. There were people I didn’t know outside. We walked in. Off in the distant corner lied poster boards of pictures, at least three. To the middle left of the room were couches, which were filled with people. To the back left were another set of double doors. To the right lied another room. This is where everyone dreaded to go. This is where the tears finally started to flow. I went and said hello to many family members and friends. The mood of the gathering was somewhat eerie. Everyone was dressed up, all with frowns and tears. I looked through some old photo albums that were over by the couches. This is when my throat started to swell. The moment when it finally hits you. The realization that it was actually happening. Everyone was there. There was no going back. There was no miracle ending.

(I would advise not reading the next part if you are sensitive to what happened that day.)

I walked into the room on the right with my mom. There he was, dressed in his hoody. A quilt draped over half of his casket. Flowers were all around. The smell of flowers and death. It’s not something you forget. I see his crying fiancé in the corner next to his body sobbing. She was a total mess. There were more pictures in there. The story of his life, in pictures, were all laid out for everyone to see. It was March 19, 2009, and no one gave a damn. No one was worried about what would happened next. I walked over and touched his cold dead body. That was the hardest thing to ever do. I was crying. I was crying hard. It was real. After that harsh realization I went back into the other room, trying to stop the tears. I sat on the couch. My eyes began to dry. As I sit there I watch my aunt and uncle, I watch everyone. I can see so much emotion. So much grief. Enough grief to flood a city. After a while we left there. We went to my aunt and uncles house.

There was beer there. There was also In-N-Out that we had brought from Bakersfield the day before. That lightened the spirits of our family, as we had not met up before going to the funeral home. Meeting on a bad note is a hard thing to do.

I was dead beaten tired. I had been up for more than 24 hours. That night my cousin Colin and I drove down to his youth group, in a corvette, I must add. (It was nice being able to enjoy something while in such a bad situation) I met a lot of his friends that night. They new what he was going through, and you could tell. Loosing your brother is not easy. We blasted the sound system on the way back to his house. I would try to take both of our minds off of the matter at hand, by laughing. We were actually laughing a lot, which was a very good thing.

The next day was the funeral. Friday March 20, 2009.

I’ll finish this next time I write. 

Blur?

"The scene is set and the book could not have captivated my attention any greater. It was a warm night, a few sweeping days and it was over. He is sorry that he could not have told you all of his secrets and all the weight he was carrying on his back. He wanted to tell you to run but it felt too good when you stayed. You couldn’t rescue him, no one could at the time. Layer upon layer the story unfolded and Miss Hepburn only stayed to see part of it. So I said “yes” to all of it, knowing that I couldn’t find salvation here just like the character. You didn’t know what you were doing, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell you. You’re right, I needed a savior. I needed someone to help me out of the mire that I had dug myself in, but it couldn’t have been you. Then the lines began to blur and the answers I had simply became more questions for both of us.

So you tried to save his life. You threw him a line to try to keep him afloat, but what you didn’t see is that he had cement blocks on his feet, cement he had put mixed and poured and placed his own feet in. And no matter how hard you tried to pull him up, it was impossible. He just stayed in the water with this smile that looked at you both with sympathy, self-awareness, but for the most part silently pleading for help.

So you believed in fate and now you are second guessing it, well you can still believe because I was never supposed to be in the picture; Destiny told me to leave you alone and I didn’t listen. I knew I was never supposed to be in those photographs, but I posed, smiling, with our arms around each other like we were a small family. And I am sorry. I hope one day you look back and believe again in fate but never again believe in me. I wish I could erase all of your memories, I wish our paths would not have crossed for your sake. But here I walk away, leaving you with a face full of tears, and me with more questions than when I first arrived. Forever to wander." 

---Anchor & Braille - from the album "Felt", Blur

If you truly look at yourself, you can probably relate to these different view points that go along with this writing. These are based off of a book, so I am not sure if they are fictional or not. With how deep they really feel, I would venture to say that it is all for real. The book mentioned in this series of writing is called "Eleven Minutes". 

Looking at myself, I have cemented my feet to the bottom of the floor, waiting to be pulled out. But, that is the problem, waiting. I am in a "Blur" of my own. Not knowing what the future will hold. To be honest, I hate this feeling. It is testing me, testing my patience. I have also been pulled into things where no salvation is found. You know it even before you get pulled into it. You actually are not even pulled in, you walk into it. It is like walking into a booby-trap and already knowing it. It is the same as digging your own grave. But who, just who, might be able to pull you out? 

The lines begin to blur. The answers become more questions. How is this? 

The lyrics go like this:

"Take me down to where you think I belong

You can't rescue me, you ain't that strong
You don't know no better,
I'm not going to tell you any better
Can you turn this pale water to wine
If you can do that baby
I think we'll be fine
But you can't raise a sinner
And its not me but honesty thats died
Blurring lines between love and sin
Can't tell where you stop and where I begin
My bodies sending questions to answers you can't give
If you throw me a line I'll only drag you in
This ain't New York City and the ice is thin
Kept me up all night
I'd be gone by the moment it struck daylight
You believe in fate but now you think there lies
I never meant to hurt a soul alive
I'm still searching for what you can't give
And the further I wonder the less i know that is
Blurring lines between love and sin
Can't tell where you stop and where I begin
My bodies sending promises that I cannot keep
Well we are bluring lines between love and sin can't tell
Where you stop or where I begin
My bodies sending question to answers you can't give
or can you give?"

Why are the lines blurry? Why oh why? 

My explanation, my own feeling: I have taken my focus off of salvation, and put God in a box. We are looking for stuff to pull us out of the mess we are in. It isn't working. Getting upset at people and things isn't working. The line we are throwing to each other, or even our selves can't pull us out of the mess we are in. Take away the worthless layers you put on yourself. Say "no" to sin. Take away all the fear and expectation and let God be in control. I am not in control of what tomorrow brings. I am not in control of the obstacles I will face. Trust is the only thing that can erase these blurring lines. 

-Kale 

A New Year, A New Set of Ideas, A New Start. New. New. New?

New Year 2010 started off at my house with waking up next to someone. Waking up to people in my house (No I was not getting robbed or anything of that sort). It was something different, but it was probably the best new year day I have ever had. I woke up next to my role model and cousin, Colin. He and his family has spent the night at my house on the 31st and left on the 1st. 'A great time' would be an understatement to describe the experience. It was a great way to end a year of pain. It was a great way to start a new year off.

2009 was probably one of the worst times in my life. We had all agreed that 2010 would be better. It was in fact better. It was a lot better. I find my self wondering why we keep track of the time in years. How much does December 31st separate from January 1st? Is it time to start over? Is it really time to start something new? Its just the months starting over, its just us growing older. Why do i say this? I say this because it is just the next day. It is just the next breath. It is just the next heart beat in this life of the sun setting and rising. People have these New Year's resolutions every single year. Are you just going to wait until the new year to do these things? Why? That is my question. Start now. Just go do it. Why must you wait until the date changes? Have a resolution now, today, any day. Why make your new year better, when you can make the year that is in place better? If we had a new resolution every day, think of how we would change.

You have to want to change, you have to want to have a resolution. Do we expect to change on our own? Expectations are something we have much of. They change as time goes along. I read this about a month ago and was very inspired.


"in life we have so many expectations. we think we know what a family trip, friendship, committed relationship, or career is going to be like because we have built up this huge story line with an amazing ending in our heads. we may have seen it on TV, or in a movie, or read it in a book, or just our wild daydreams, but reality is much different then our imagination shows it to be. even 'reality television' is scripted. 

we need to become a blank canvas, or a film not yet shot, to truly enjoy what we have later in life. we should not attempt to paint a picture of the eiffel tower before we have been there, it only leads to disappointment and heartache. what we have and hold dear in our head is just that, its in our head. when we project and fantasize how we want our boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife to be or act before we even meet them we have already ensnared them into a jail or box that they may never want to be caged in. allow them to be who they are, and fall in love with them for them. the more expectations that you thrust on them to be who you want the more disappointment you will live with day in and day out."
--- www.modesty.blogspot.com

My expectation: I am going to become open. Be open, become a blank canvas, a film in the making, and just truly enjoy life. 

I am all to often disappointed and full of heartache. Its because I am looking for something different than what comes my way. I think of the things that will really happen. I am a total realist. This is what disappoints me. Out of the ordinary can happen. A new mind set is what I realize needs to happen. I need to be the 'out of the ordinary'. I need to be the change I want to see. 

So lets start this year off with a blank canvas, shall we? 

-Kale