My Brother's keeper

ob*scu*ri*ty- noun, state of being unknown, inconspicuous, and unimportant.

Einstein had Physics.  Kant had Transcendentals.  Kim has Kanye.

It was perhaps the proudest day of my life.  Graduation day.  Multiple times in the years leading up to this day, my life had been in danger.  My health compromised.  Loved ones scratched their heads as much in confusion as amazement.  Yet in the monologue that quipped as static noise, I interviewed, and mostly I wanted to thank the three tiny human beings who perhaps served as the Sam Wise Gamgi to my Frodo.

The baby sister will forever be mentioned as inspiration by her four older brothers, and she'll never let us forget it.  That's a given.  And she did inspire a lot.  She is after all, the brightest, most intelligent, and even the most observant of our little clan.  But I especially wanted to thank my two younger brothers.  This day belonged to them as much as it did myself.

There is a fourth brother, the eldest.  He up and pulled a Houdini act himself and has spent the last 15+ years locked away in incarceration in Washington State's Penitentiary, a place I've heard nicknamed "Gladiator School" for all the reasons you're thinking of.  He's been a ghost in my lifetime.  Most days I consciously go through without even a mention or a thought.  And I suppose the day is coming when we'll be brother's again.

But my two kid brothers meant the most to me in that moment.  Their approach to life, it's circumstances, the hand it dealt them, I spent most nights worrying if all of a sudden it would hit them how harsh it had been to them.  So I kept fighting.  A peculiar incident happened one holiday break I was home.

As teenagers are prone to do- I did it exceptionally well, appreciating consequences is never really on the radar.  I needed the eyeglasses voucher that would assist me in Montana, that my Tribe sprung for.  Thing was, it was in my brothers' car.  So my mom and I moseyed on down to the school with the simple intent of grabbing and going.  We had said our goodbyes.  Funny thing, my brother's were not in school.  In fact they hadn't even checked in that morning yet, and it was going on to like the fourth period.  Of course my moms was livid, ready to pounce and give the soapbox.  I calmly called my brothers and informed them, the gig was up, they had been found out, purely do to an accident and my forgetfulness.

We rendezvoused.  My mom had the sharp dagger glare of contempt and disappointment, as a mother would.  My brothers looked like whipped puppies with their tails between their legs. I had a bus to catch and 20+ hours ahead of me, so I carried the burdened smile of politeness.  My mom cussed like a pirate for a few moments as we drove to the bus stop. In English, maybe a little in Spanish, and I'm sure a little in Yakama.

Then a silence.

It was my turn to tirade and yell.  But I refused.  I quietly said "I came home with a happy heart.  I'd like to leave that way."

I hugged my kid brother's in the way an older brother does, when he feels proud.  And I simply declared, "you're going to be better men than I.  It'll be alright."  That moment stuck with me, and I smile when I reflect on it, for a couple of reasons.  For one, because of my past and the emotional paralysis, I am certain my family had desperately wished I had done something like this to comfort them and show I was a normal rebellious airheaded adolescent.  For another, I admired the act purely for itself.  Wicked allegations were thrown at the poor guys- oh they were getting high and skipping, or they were tipping a pint and ditched.  I couldn't believe it.  I smiled with avarice.  It was the purest act of sibling mischief I had seen in awhile.  And I was amused more than anything.

The day came.  That proud day.  And now I had a new mission, in the sacred ceremony that is being an older brother.  I had hung all of my money on my goal of getting through college.  It was finished.  They didn't have to wait their turn.  They shouldn't have had to "stand in line" or take their number.  I had gotten a ton of attention for a lot of different things, and I feared they'd feel like they were living under the weight of my shadow.  I got to thinking.  And thinking.  I try not to make sport of my brothers.  No one-ups-manship.  I have nothing to Lord over them.  They've become more adept and cultured since being back home and I can respect that.

I decided with all the newfound and recently attained knowledge and experience I gleaned being away, I would use it in a kind of superpower.  I strive to be obscure in the coming glory and accomplishments my brother's will accomplish.  It's an act of love and a small way I can thank them for not always understanding my path, but supporting it.  I enjoy working to be unimpressive, nameless, breathless, odorless, and lurking as much as I can.  I am trying to be a shadow.  A clean slate, a blank page, a curious and novel conscience.

Their approach to life is still idiosyncratic, idealistic, romantic, and my biggest chore nowadays is to be enthusiastic and a balloon of energy.  I feel obscurity is a service.  Because it gives fan to the fire of hope, not the suffocation of cynicism and callousness.  It gravitates toward faith, not bleakness.  It strives for growth, not expense of belittlement.

Mostly I try to encourage my brothers to embrace their failures and to practice failing and getting better at it.  Some kind of brother I am right?

I'm grateful.  After all, I am my brother's keeper.      

She's outta my league

I am a first generation college graduate.  If you are under the impression this is an exercise in vanity, I assure you, I'd be the first to say it is a stupid idea.

This isn't the most gratifying and noteworthy marker of my existence.  To most it's a big deal, for me actually, it's a dream come true.  But it isn't the most important achievement to me.  Here's why.  I am also a first generation Protestant Christian.  The Catholic faith runs deep in my bloodline, but in a lot of ways I've become the latest and newest pilgrim, to my family and my people.  I view the world differently.  My ethics and morality are inspired in a dual kind of partnership in which my culture and my faith can compromise and inform equally.  Mostly being a first generation so and so is anything but an exercise in vanity and accomplishment.  It exposes longings you get sick and tired of, because you felt deprived your whole life.  It's more about navigating awkwardness, exploring new "traditions", and mostly about accepting heartbreak and lonliness.

So what about love?

I came to faith, wanting so desperately for the Nazerene Jesus to be my best friend.  I wanted a healer.  And man did he deliver.  Eventually and ultimately I realized Him to be my Lord, Savior, Comforter, Wise Counselor, High Priest, Redeemer, and King.  I came to Him with nothing, expecting deliverance and nothing more.  But even I learned, a lifetime is for awhile, and I began to notice there other areas of life that Jesus influenced.  Things like my passions, my finances, my career aspirations, mental and physical health.  Wealth, prosperity, blessing, even growth and suffering.

I never asked Jesus for any of that.

So why would I ask Him for a love?  A bride?  An image bearer and a gift more precious than any of those other ones? A companion?  A best friend in the faith and partner in life?  Someone who inspires me and makes me want to be a better person?  Someone who challenges me past comfort and sees my flaws, even the tragic ones?  Who knows the filth I've been in, created, the perversity and depravity I've reached for?  Really, Jesus?

The very idea scares the hell out of me.  In time I guess I've had conversations with Heaven and Earth to slightly pay a kind of lip service to the whole idea.  I'm a man, broken and destitute. Amazingly saved by grace and a love I'm sure I'll never understand until eternity claims me to her throne, and the Son of Man calls me home.

I've heard it a form of higher evolution to be able to devout one's life and affections to another person in the name of love. Maybe I'm not ready.  But I do love my singleness.  It's a gift, a freedom, a privilege, and an honor.  Here are some areas I find to be meaningful and useful in my life during this season.

A season to Serve

I can do that. I volunteer, work jobs and gigs with crappy hours for ridiculous pay because I can.  I can sacrifice the time and energy to do things for others- motivated by an outward desire to make life easier and days better.  I don't ask for anything in return.  Mostly folks feed me, and that's fine.  But I can help move, I can set up and tear down for Worship Services, I can switch shifts with hours' notice, I can volunteer to coordinate an outreach.  And its never felt thankless or unappreciated.

A season to learn

The decision to join my family of faith was life changing.  It challenged me.  It scared me.  I was uncertain.  But in the few yeas I've been a member of my Church, I've soaked it all up like a ninja.  I see healthy.  That's because I see the vulnerable and the weak.  I've seen remarkable women become widowed, families struggle.  I've witnessed my first wedding, I admit I was a little too excited, but it definitely didn't disappoint.  Profoundly I can testify to the men I've come to respect, loving their wives children.  Serving, stumbling, leading, and praying over them.  And all the while this has happened within a community that loves, and keeps everyone's dignity intact.

Practical reasons too . . . 

All of my 'big successes' and absolutely the worst parts of my humanity have affected my salvation.  Going into debt, deciding to be involved in organizations, burning my family in emergencies and during holiday seasons.  In life and in death, I've been a single man the whole time.  They groan that if I'm at least going to behave like this, she better be worth it.  They're still waiting.  I came to love where I am now because yes I was under the impression  I would be given the opportunity to start a family and all that.

Race?

On a subconscious level, something could be said about it.  Cross cultural marriage, bi racial romance, etc etc.  I wouldn't be doing it for the reasons people thought though.  My education has taught me, but even more than that it's granted me access.  I look at my heritage not as a thing to struggle trying to preserve or keep "pure".  After all the whole idea of the 'redman' was an exotic notion and a nod toward a group of peoples cycling down resources and cross canceling each other out, other than the obvious reasons.  So now I see my future, my family tree as growing in comfort and confidence in faith and not in the perks their heritage can bestow unto them.

Friendship

Culture is powerful.  Objectification, erotic and dehumanizing desires.  Lust and cravings.  How does a young man do battle against such powerful forces?  Saying it's uncomfortable to interact with married women is perfectly fine.  It is. But it also teaches me to convey respect, ask all those little questions, to be present, to be encouraged, and to honor them.  I enjoy talking to mothers who talk about their children anywhere from ages 0 to age 60.  Or about what the latest and great trendy thing is on Pinterest.  Mostly it means I have a fulfilling and enriching relationship with their husbands as well.  I don't poach older men for their wisdom of how to score or charm the ladies.  I just want to experience life on the same wavelength.  The most rewarding part is there isn't expectations or misleading exchanges.  Women of every walk of life at every stage have taught me a great deal about God's faithfulness and His love for His people.

Which finally leads to

I used to think 'chemistry" and attraction were a big deal in courting.  I mean in the overhyped sense of the context.  It's not about 'hooking up' or getting practice.  That's so shallow and life taking.  I don't look at women as an ego boost, a status enhancement, a trophy to be won.  Trust me, I'd have a hard time accomplishing any of those things on a good day, much less any day.  I enjoy my singleness, and hopefully that doesn't upset anyone.   I'm not stuck up.  Not picky.

When I became a follower of Jesus, I wanted a friend.  Most of the people thought that was a licence to breed a Warrior.  A trained killer.  An assassin.  A five tool player.  An all star, a stud, an example, a show horse.  Sadly they got all of that.  But the most powerful command Jesus gives "love one another" is the simplest.  And that's what I am striving to become.

I'll tell you one thing.  I want a love, greater than any of my forefathers, and my ancestors.  Not for the big moments or someone to push me to do and be extraordniary.  I've had my share of pumping up the ego and huge expectations.  I just want somebody to celebrate the conscious effort to walk through life on a daily basis in a rather unimpressive manner in which I can fuss or ask "did I love well today?  Was I an encouragement?  Is that person's life and day better by having me in it for that brief moment?"  

I'm single.  Perhaps for all the wrong reasons.  But ultimately I want to be an old man who says "yeah, she's outta my league. . .  But God gave her to me anyway."

Letter to my 18 year old self

Hey dumb dumb,

Remember how you tried to pick a place to grow up and become a man.  That's going to get blown to bits.  In the most spectacular way possible, you are about to get proven wrong.

-Snicker at your kid brother's comment about the United States electing a man of color to the presidency.  You'll see why about 3 years after he made that comment.

- Your grandmother really did love you with everything she had.  Every fiber, Every ounce.  But she had a deep dark secret.  She took that to the grave.  She questioned even your safety and ability to stay safe, mostly from your self.  You weren't wrong to question why she looked at you that made you wonder if you were crazy.

- Pay attention to your crazy Uncle Len.  He's not the crab ass you think he is.  He's going to inspire perhaps the biggest and most meaningful gift you have.  You'll tell the world someday.

- Your hypersexuality is not normal.  There's a lifetime behind that.

- If  you pick up on the show The West Wing, you're doing alright.

- Read more.  Read often.

- It's going to a beautiful young married woman who's going to give you the most precious outlet in life.  not in the way you think.  Pay attention to her.  Yeah she's annoyingly beautiful from the inside out, you'll see why.

- Travel.  At least dream of it more.

- The world is a dark place.  In about 8 years you'll start the healing process of that vicious childhood. Right now the trauma is all that makes sense.  Count to 100, close your eyes.  Repeat.

- Pick up an instrument and for the life of you, learn to play the hell out of it.  It'll keep you alive.

-In big bold black letters look up H-O-P-E define it, copy, paste it, and tape it up on your ceiling and look at it daily.

- You're more of an extrovert than you think.

- the little metal man on the cross that hung in your living room where you grew up is about to re-introduce himself in the most captivating and conspired sequence of events your life will ever see.  He's not just for old men after all.

- College- it's not about you being smart enough.  It's about the habits you have.  You're definitely smart enough, but your work ethic is shady.

- There's a difference between self- esteem and confidence.  You have neither.  This is going to cripple you for the forseeable future.  Your wholesome nature will get you through.

- Take care of your dental and personal hygiene.

- Your long hair will eventually grow old on you.

-Your tears, the unshakeable tremors your body endures, the anxiety attacks, the breakdowns mentally, they're not in vein.  Don't try to kill yourself like you think of alot of days.

- No one will prepare you, but you'll see a lot of death.  Your loved ones.  You'll surprisingly deal with it well.

- This is the big one, a ton of people will tell you you're going to do amazing things with your life.  It's up to you to believe them and do something with it.

Cheers buddy- God speed and safe travels


Nick
age 28

Bucket list- because my mocs aren't traveled enough

I've never been to a live concert, so there's that.

Rome Italy, and all those Basilicas

A pilgrimage to the Holy Land, Skull Hill could impact me in the flesh equally or more than what the Word says.

New Zealand, 'cause Wizards roam middle earth like a boss over there.  And it's beautiful.

Scotland.  I can't wait to meet my forefathers, and say "look that Ross fella found him a good Indian Maiden.  He was a good diplomat. Made good relations."

The museum where the Dark Knight's history is kept.  The Batman made sense as a hero growing up that most male figures in my life did.

The library where JRR Tolkien's legacy lives.  And some good tea.  Probably won't see me for a week on that one.

Sherman Alexie's work space.  I wold like to see that.  Maybe just a day following the dude around.  Made me a believer that writing can hurt and give hope in the same breath.

Louise Erdrich's Bookstore.  I think her writing is meant to seduce young men and I fell hard.

And other things, menial, but equally as important.

Wizard-ing (10 things)

Urban Dictionary- a resource that is as ridiculous as it enlightening, has 2 definitions of Wizard and Grand Wizard.

Wizard- 30+  male virgin.

Grand Wizard- Highest Authority in the KKK

Well the cat's out of the bag.  I'm a cherry, and blasphemous.  Wizard isn't something that trends on Twitter.  At least I don't think it does.  I haven't seen anyone update their status saying 'feeling WiZardly'  But this could change after I hit publish.

I've been called a Wizard.  And well I haven't really understood why.  So what has possessing 'Wizardly" characteristics taught me?  I can think  of a couple of things.

10- Slaying Dragons is overrated.  There are trolls and elves for that sh$#.

9- the most exotic potion recipes aren't what they're hyped up to be.  Sometimes after a hard days work, Mike's Hard Earthy Lemonade, or Smirnoff-u-luff-a-gus can get the job done.  Especially after creating a new constitution for a nation of Gremlins.

9- Singing terribly and out of tune is more courageous than all get up.  Lip syncing like a boss is a cowards way out.  Your soul deserves to struggle and hope.  Not imitate and wither.

8- The odds constantly seem to always mount an offensive against you.  The foolishness is the thought that an ultimate evil or overwhelming power in numbers or concentration can defeat you.  Armies.  Kings.  Beast and Half-Dead Zombie looking creatures think they got the jump on you.  That's the myth of your extraordinariness.  You possess the power to see greatness and goodness in everything, every situation, and everyone.  Mostly the outcasts and the peasants.  That's ordinary.  And therein lies your strength.

7- pleasant bodily aromas are to be cautiously and sparingly utilized.  Dwarfs find it offensive and rancid.  And there was that one time the king Spiders got the jump on me because of. . .

6- routine is a discipline.  Even in suffering, hurting, and despairing.  you grow in it, embrace it. harness it.  Do it with dignity.  Do it consistently. Take pride in it.  People will see it, notice it.

5- As a diplomat, an ambassador, a dignitary.  Your most prized political asset is stepping back and not saying a word.  For when you do decide to speak, it's respected and appreciated.

4- It doesn't matter how much knowledge, experience, how many wars, battles you've fought.  You simply making the choice to get out of bed and stand on your own two feet is the real miracle.

3- A lot of people can live for the big moments in life.  Few can feel the freedom and happiness of the insignificance of all those little unimpressive moments.

2- Love coupled with prayer is magical.

1- No one remembers your name.  But if you've done your job, the impact you had is seen, felt, and inspired.  It means you felt it important enough to focus on others and erased your name and credentials letter by letter, so that others could be greater than yourself.  And you smiled the whole time doing it.

2 things I hope young developing professionals strive for

There's this flick I've secretly always liked.  It's not family friendly, and it exposes my "unChristian" taste for all that is unholy.  It's a film called Street Kings.  It stars Keanu Reeves as a renegade broken Vice Detective, with an extreme ambivalence towards authority and teamwork.  After a raw and heroic caper, the charismatic and shady Captain Wander (as only Forest Whitaker can pull off) praises Det. Ludlow and prophetically praises "you went toe to toe with evil, and you won" after the hero sprayed down some thugs in a display of prejudiced street justice.

Or, I recently was turned on to an HBO series called True Detective.  I like Woody Harrelson's acting, but Matthew McConaughey's screen skills do eventually steal most of the bravado and appeal.  The tagline for the series is "Touch the Darkness"

Stand toe to toe with Evil.  Touch the Darkness.

I do Christian things.  I go to Church. I pray.  I sing, ancient hymns and contemporary falsettos.  I guess in some of the world's eye, have emphatically drunken the kool- aid.  The fairy tale is well and alive.  Just look into my eyes.

I also work a gig, that for better or less forces me to confront dark things, and demons.  I'm not of the clergy.  I don't perform exorcisms.  I haven't the credentials of a Fortune 500 CEO.  I work a shelter, that provides emergency temporary housing for transients and the homeless.  On a given shift I'm the supervisor, responsible for everything from relational bonding, to data acquisition and entry, to dirty work aka janitorial extraordinaire.  I do crises management to trauma counseling.  Comforter to bouncer.  Confidant to snitch.  A rebel of the law to the prick iron fist of the law- in a very Old Testament kind of way.  Boot to bone.  Tit for tat.  Eye for eye.

I don't work from a position of power,  But rather a keen and profound sense of my limitations and the narrow scope in which I'm allowed to operate.  It can be a stream of steady one moment, the next, an explosive environment in which the local PD is called in like Cavalry.  I've been called sweet, calm, a lover of Jesus (which I never mention), cool.  I've also been called 'mother fucker', an idiot, a snitch.  Never incompetent.

The people I serve come in as 'dual diagnosed'- that is an meth addict coupled with Schizophrenia.  An alcoholic with Paranoia.  A cannabis pheen on top of bi-polar or manic depressive.  And some days, they decide they go ape shit.

Psychotic breaks, I've witnessed them before.  So here is my fifty cent piece of wisdom.

First, serve from a position of vulnerability.  Not in the sense of anxiety or fear.  They'd eat me alive if they sniffed an ounce of that.  One skill I'm developing is to be in the darkness with them, or sometimes become the biggest black hole they'll see.  It's a ploy I use to deescalate.  In order to manage an explosive chaotic situation, I get the aggressor to channel all of their energy, rage, contempt, and verbatim onto me.  It keeps the dozens of other guests and staff safe, so they don't feel overwhelmed.  I step into in the dark, so they have to blindly come seek me.  They fixate and erratically follow me.  Eventually they come to light, and power down, but by them I'm usually the first step in their consequence.  I learn to own it.  I say I don't enjoy this part of the job, but it's for the safety and well being of all.  Be willing to suffer with them, or for them.  Not above them or around them.

Second, the other skill I'm learning is to take the body blows.  Like a human bullet proof vest.  It's neither noble nor healthy. When there's an incident, I decide it's not personal, a character attack, or an all out lightning war on my dignity as a human being.  It's being a specialized field operative who can defuse a ticking time bomb with a tooth pick and some toothpaste.  We operate with little knowledge of the coming tornado and change in weather.  Posture, a neutral but firm body language, and a tempered voice inflection have gone a long way in saving a lot of people a ton of pain.  Sure my body shakes rabidly from the blood boiling when someone is screaming in your face, and the Adrenaline is shooting through the roof only to come brutally crashing down about 45 mins after the fact, but this is where 'self-care' comes in.

I usually after one of these nights perform a ceremony- dubiously named my 'Warming Center hangover' go to Mickey D's and get a biscuit sausage and egg/ hasbrown, plus an extra hasbrown and eat it excruciatingly slow so I can re-learn to enjoy the littlest and simplest things again.  I also look at people, videos that spell beauty to me and enjoy them for a 30 sec interval (in a non creepy way)  Happy puppies is a popular one.

If you understand this, I'd encourage you as your strength, gumption, and dare I say faith allows- be the light that leads people and crowds away from darkness.  And you achieve that so awfully counter-intuitively by stepping into that space or even becoming the darkness so that it serves as a warning.  And secondly, suffer well, with and as much dignity as you can, when the situation calls for it.