odd jobs

I've seen a lot of weird stuff, including an older woman screaming at Cam in foreign tongues in the middle of a crowded Prague train station. Last week, in the Keweenaw Peninsula (the northernmost tip of the Upper Peninsula), the fellas and I came across an attractive young woman at work.

She was a petite brunette dressed in brown Carhart overalls, t-shirt and rubber boots, chewing tobacco and digging in the back of a utility van, helping her partner hose off a grease bin in the parking lot of a dodgy-looking-but-surprisingly-delicious four-star restaurant at midnight.

Quite standard, really.

courier show: spread the word

love // politics

people in
pairs;
triplets;
together: creating

me: alone
waiting;
or procrastinating

it’s hard to tell

when
you’re
lost

somewhere
between
the wilderness
and the city
is where i rest

yet unrest
has uprooted
this loneliness

this
strong
desire

to know
and be known
to love
and be loved

==

as the wind blows
past these trees
shaking leaves of

green

the breeze of august
will chill september
and reveal majesty

while the day of
labor reminds us
to lay down our arms

and
rest

==

i return to the same woods
where i wept over her
but discovered it was me

memories of gethsemane
where the Savior’s blood
dripped red
with anguish
‘take this cup’
He screamed
inside His soul
but drank it up

anyway

to
simply
save
the
world

==

so for now i find perspective
in the unexpected
words that fall from the
sky and land in letters
that speak of hidden form
like a mirror looks back
and says ‘there’s more’

than
what
we
see

like the unseen
beauty and chemistry
of a triune King
with a big k
unlike the little ones
on the television

spitting chunks of fools’ gold
into the hands of beggars
who wanna rule the world

the return of the courier

Courier's back. After Dan’s overseas summer adventures are closing in, while drummer Andy’s wrists are back in good shape.

Saturday, October 18 from 7-9 p.m.

Dillenbeck’s Coffee
1059 Fulton St W
Grand Rapids, MI 49504

It’s free. It's fall. It’s for you.

dos años

We started our company two years ago today. 730 days have come and gone.

On our first day, we went to Starbucks; I slammed a gigantic venti coffee.

It kept me wide-eyed all night. Enough for some poetry to leak about the pressure and fear I was feeling after taking in all the beauty and adventure of Europe.

It would be a lie to say fear is gone. It feels like a century or an hour has passed.

I’ve been shattered into pieces, reassembled and broken again. I’ve stood tall and bowed low, cried in desperation and smiled in adoration. I’ve asked God to come in, slammed the door, and then asked Him to come in again.

We’ve told good stories, failed on others, fought a lot and laughed a little. We captured a vision flying over Africa and imported it into the U.S. We moved from a tiny room to a big studio in a former ghetto, where redemptive threads abound.

I’ve been poor. I’ve been rich. I’ve made debts. I’ve paid debts. Then I’ve made more debts. I’ve blessed. I’ve cursed. I’ve closed deals. I’ve lost deals. I’ve fought off vultures and pirates who smelled cash and blood.

I’ve found everything meaningless. I’ve found everything meaningful.

the tire story

Many I know, myself included, seem to be lying down in a spiritual valley. This is nothing new, playing dead, seeing only brokenness, forgetting where we left the ointment.

On Sunday, a friend of our neighbors strategically planted his car in front of the driveway exit. I was flying solo to the beach to repent and think and pray and sleep, and his garbage parking job set me off. I swore and stood proudly by my car until he came outside.

“Do you need me to move my car?” he says.

Great observation. I nod. “Thanks.”

I typically execute the signature Austin Powers move to drive out, but his car was blocking the turnaround. In haste, I exited in reverse, cranking my tire into the cement barrier on the passenger side.

My car could be sold on the Taco Bell Value Menu, so I move on.

The car was favoring its right side, which isn’t extremely odd. But it wasn’t good.

No. Flat tire? I pull over. Yes. Flat tire. More swearing.

Thinking through options, I take a quick inventory. Clunky, broken speaker in trunk blocking spare. I disconnect it and move it to the back seat. Bad jack. No money. Dirty trunk. Tire place across the street. Yes, across the street. The same place where they sell large bags of onions and bicycles and treadmills. Brilliant.

I walk over, see the “CASH ONLY” sign, and start the short walk back, defeated.

I’m not a cash man. “Carriere!” I hear a voice. It’s Amy, strategically driving past.

“I have a flat tire,” I yell, pointing to my car in the parking lot across the street, adjacent to the Burger King.

She comes over; I lament, but say little else. Then I ask her if she has money. She has cash. I walk over to the tire guys. I tell them what’s up. They tell me to drive it over. I tell them there’s no air and I don’t want to destroy the tire. I suggest I borrow their jack and bring the tire over myself. They concur.

I jack the car up. I take off the lug nuts. It’s stuck. Really stuck. I start kicking it and swearing. Amy watches. I look up. I kick some more. I put on a shoe so I can kick harder than I could with flip-flops. A couple people in the parking lot next to us watch. I kick.

I walk back over. “It’s stuck,” I say. They say they’ll be over in a minute. I repeat the same sequence as above. More kicking. Twenty minutes goes by. I walk back over. A new guy comes. He says I’m missing a lug and points to the center. I feel stupid.

I drive it across the street.

Turns out I wasn’t as stupid as he thought. All they needed was a large sledge.

They knock it off with ease. They fix the problem and speak Spanish, show me the dreaded disarray of my tire and offer to sell me a new one for $25. I explain that I’m poor and lie and tell them my tire is under warranty. I’m wretched. There’s no warranty.

They charge me $10, and I’m grateful it’s not $70.

I give them Amy’s money, shake hands, and we drive to the freshwater sea.

Until now, I haven’t given it much thought, since it’s embarrassing to recount the string of sins accompanying the whole ordeal. But there was provision and planning and lessons there, despite my shortcomings.

Had my anger not fueled a hasty exit from my driveway, I wouldn’t have sliced the tire nozzle. If I didn’t walk to the tire place at that exact moment, Amy wouldn’t have seen me. If she didn’t have $10, I would’ve likely spent more and swore more.

But the solution was right there, all along, across the street.

Despite my stubbornness and foolishness and trying to fix it on my own, I eventually recognized my situation for what it was, and found help.

And the solution to this isolation and ungratefulness and sin is right there, too, the same place it’s always been, at the intersection of the cross and the empty tomb.

another girl (a song)

another girl
falls through the cracks
and fades away

another dream
comes crashing down
as i awake

another word
of sympathy
falls from a friend

nod and smile
you know this heart
has got the bends

without you here…my love
without you here…my love

all this crashing
of these cymbals
just leaves me dry

while pious words
and broken body
they make me sigh

so fix my heart
to wait on You
and not rely

cause my own
ability
is running dry

without you here…my love
without you here…my love

//friday morning duck-and-cover

the meter maid
hunts lawbreakers
puts a green slip on their hood

while i sit here
and close the blinds
not doing the things i should

you know i’m a salesman
but i don’t wanna
sell you what you don’t need

but let’s tell your story
if it’s worth telling
and if we all agree

i know this friday morning
duck-and-cover
will pass away until another

morning comes
when i just wanna
sleep til saturday

j&k

My Brother Justin married my stunningly beautiful Sister-in-Law Kelsey on Saturday. The ceremony was held in a church we would frequent in the congregational days of our youth, filled with old friends and new family.

Justin laughed out loud mid-ceremony at my Dad’s pastoral officiating, after he made a comment about the music they chose from The Lord of the Rings, (“May the LORD be the Lord of your rings.”) Justin tried to hold back, but failed.

I smiled. All was as it should be.

The music J&K chose for the ceremony was perfect. Clay rocks the piano, and the violinist was equally impressive. We played the Sufjan version of “Come Thou Fount” with a mandolin, banjo, guitar, piano and xylophone, male and female vocals, with an acapella ending with the whole congregation singing.

Adrienne played a solo acoustic jazz-infused version of Blessed Assurance that you’d have to hear to believe. At the reception, my Mother led everyone in “Sunrise, Sunset” in celebration of my Sister and Brother-in-Law’s 5^th anniversary.

A red trolley took the wedding party to the reception site, a retreat center on Rabbit Bay, overlooking seemingly endless Lake Superior. My Mother and Sister and Kelsey went over the top with the planning, and it went off like butter.

In true UP style, we saunaed like Finlanders and jumped into chilly Lake Superior for three days straight. During the post-reception sauna, crowded with 20+ people baking at 200+ degrees, my Dad threw on 4+ ladles of water, causing everyone on the upper deck to assume a vertical fetal position or hit the lower deck, with the heat finally exiling ten people into the lake.

While it was painful for us, it managed to extract the signature wheezing laughter of my Dad, which is always worth the price of admission.

Tiki torches lit up the beach. J&K lit up the cameras.

Now, J&K are likely en-route to Europe, where they’ll spend the next three weeks honeymooning in Germany, Austria and Italy, including a stay at the Cinque Terre.

They are blessed. Congrats, Mr. and Mrs. Carriere.

two verses (of a song)

these reminders
serve to remind me
of time left behind
and what it all could be

but reality
is one step then another
on concrete or sand
through hate or through love

who you know

Here's a cool study on the "Six Degrees from Kevin Bacon." Technology says it's actually seven.

please pray

Please pray for our friend Emily, whose brother Alan has just passed away unexpectedly after being hospitalized for the past number of days. Pray for Emily and the family, including Alan's wife Tiffany and their young 1-year-old son Anderson.