Hometowns & Homesteads

I live in a town of transplants. From the Midwest, from Asia, from subdivisions, we left what we knew and came here to the city by the Bay. Why did we leave the people we know and the places we know and trade them in for new sky and different air? What made us willing to trade known for unknown? What chases the emigrant? Or if not a chasing, more like a calling from beyond the horizon, a pull rather than a push? My heart feels better about pulling. I like to think my present self reached backward to the days before San Francisco and pulled, knowing the joy and the growth and the peace that would come from being a wanderer in a strange land, Abraham seeking a new Canaan. God must have pulled me here. For Him, past, present, and future are one, and He has a funny habit of leading His sons out into the wilderness. When God wants a people, He seems to start by pulling them into a new place, leaving behind familiar routine, customs, lands. By leaving behind their people, they can learn to become His people. I pause here, knowing that in my time away from my homeland, I have inched my closer to becoming God’s people.

Sometimes you wish you could do a better job next time

Incidentally, this is a sweet album.

Great Advice

I’ve had a lot of great advice over the years, but this is up there with the best, especially nowadays:

“You can’t date a 29-year-old like you’d date a 24-year-old.”

Pepe sent me this

I’m dead if he ever learns to unleash this on me.

Ain’t nothin secret about it

One of my favorite singers in college was Leslie Feist. She wrote a really helpful song about counting and she invented bangs (little-known fact). She’s got an awesome head-bang and plays a mean guitar. I like this little number she sang with some friends (I guess they’re friends?) in France this one time.

One of my co-workers is convinced that all of my stories end up being about dead animals, so here’s one that isn’t:

This guy on my street plays with his remote controlled car probably 15 hours every week, usually by himself. Our street isn’t a great RC street, but that doesn’t faze him. Totally a die-hard.

Les presento Francisco

(L-R: Me, Josh (intern and chupacabras), and Francisco)

San Francisco waaaaay before Francisco

Sadly, the great Kellen Gunderson no longer blogs, but he does still send me cool stuff from time to time. Recently he sent me this awesome film taken in San Francisco just days before the earthquake in 1906. Surprisingly, a lot of things are still the same. We still have a lot of questionable pedestrian decisions, great mustaches, and relatively low reliance on non-renewable resources. I wish I could find a way to embed directly here, but oh well. Watch it, or don’t.

San Francisco without the Francisco

Well, that was a fascinating adventure. After enjoying five days with our new friend Francisco, we sent him off to the airport this morning back to Chile. Such a crazy circumstance brought him to us, and he ended up being a really, really good guy. I had so much fun lapsing back into Spanish mode and joking around with the guy. He should be at home by tomorrow morning. Thanks so much for your prayers in his behalf. In honor of Francisco, here’s a great little video. It’s illegal footage, so catch it fast before it gets taken down.

Francisco without the San

Tonight (and perhaps more nights) we have a random Chileno named Francisco staying with us, because his dad kicked him out of his house. He’s trying to fly home to Chile now. I like the guy, and it’s been great speaking Spanish with him, but I think he and I both agree that we need to get him home ASAP. Everyone please pray that Francisco can get home safely and soon, and also that this whole incident can spark some interest in the Church. He’s a good guy. Adios.

I know, I know.

Yesterday was the Fourth. Today is the fifth (no capitalization deserved). However, I’m guessing most of you didn’t get anywhere near your daily recommended dosage of blue-sequined Neil. Disfruten.