Movement is Required

This evening, in a moment of inspiration after hearing a Mark Driscoll sermon, I decided to make a playlist of all the blatantly Christian music that I have in my iTunes library. I was able to come up with 156 songs........... out of over 7000. Supremely worried does not really begin to cover it. As someone who wants to join the ministry to either write Christian literature, teach the gospel or counsel those in trouble by pointing them to Christ, these are not encouraging numbers.

“Josiah, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just music, right?” 

Yes, and that’s the point. Music always has been and always will be an enormous part of my life. And cliche thought it may be, “garbage in, garbage out.” As my best friend often reminds me, the only reason we have cliches is BECAUSE they are so true.

It is nigh impossible for me to consume that amount of music and not be effected in some way or another. Some of it might be harmless enough, country songs about growing up in a small town, little rock ditties about falling in love, etc. etc. But I wonder how many of those songs encourage rebellion, lust, anger, etc.... things that I struggle with enough already.

One of the things I value more than any other quality in those I choose to surround myself with is honesty. Yes, it may burn my ego all too often, but I would rather someone I love be honest with me and bruise my honor or offend me, than to have them hide the truth because they think it will hurt me. I have always wanted to take this approach if and when I came to the ministry as well, and I know that in that instance, it will probably offend many people. I’m not sure how many people in orthodoxy are going to want a preacher stand up on his first day and say: “Hey, guess what? I struggle with X, Y and Z... and I am going to be your pastor!”

I think that the philosophy of creating the kind of art that you want to see in the world applies to preaching too. Be the kind of preacher that you would want to listen to. Or put another way: be the kind of preacher you need to hear. One of my favorite lines from the movie Luther is when Martin Luther’s father (as in monk father) is sending him to seminary, and Martin begins to protest:

“Why would you send me away to preach when I am questioning my own faith?”

His father just smiles and says: “Martin, we preach best what we need to learn most.”

How true it is.

So, what do I need to learn most? That stasis a good Christian does not make. For months now I have been content to look at my sin and atrophy with a certain bemused gaze of apathy. 

“Oh, hi.... you’re still here?” I drawl as I stare vacantly into the middle distance.

It’s as if I am in a battalion invading Nazi Germany, and we are trying to defeat them by looking at them like curious lemmings and wiggling our rears in their general direction, only to be surprised by receiving butt wounds. Sense.... it does not make.

So what is the solution? “If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off.”

I have heard several sermons on that particular verse now, and I am still not sure how vicious God expects us to be with ourselves. Sometimes I feel like hacking limbs off might be the wisest option... it would certainly cut down on the sin faction. (hehe.... cut...)

But whatever the case may be; whether you take the extremely literal reading of this verse, or whether you are only taking it as an exaggeration of what Jesus was really talking about, one thing is certain:

<MOVEMENT IS REQUIRED>

And this is something that I have most certainly not been doing. I have not made an attempt to curb my music collection. I have not made an attempt to add more Christian music into my diet.... nor have I made any sort of attempt to add more fruits and veggies into my diet. My diet has been poor in generally every area of my life... spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally. In fact, it is a wonder that I am doing as well as I am right now. Common grace truly is lathered on with a wide brush. Or perhaps, more likely than not, I am experiencing the last part of TULIP in the extreme. (The “perseverance of the saints”... in that God maintains grace and salvation in those that He calls to be Christians.)

Movement.... movement is required.

Now, if you will permit me a little rabbit trail... it will be worth it, I assure you:

I’m a big sci-fi nut. Sci-fi games, sci-fi movies, sci-fi books... even a large portion of the toys I have collected are science fiction related. Because of this I am rather familiar with a fictional invention called the “stasis pod.” I am sure that many of my readers need no explanation further than its name, but for those of you who do not live and breathe science fiction, let me explain:

The stasis pod (otherwise known as a cryo-sleep chamber), is usually a staple part of science fiction universes where faster than light travel has not yet been discovered. Due to the fact that intergalactic travel is possible, yet still takes inordinate amounts of time in these sorts of stories, it is impossible for one crew to pilot a ship from one end of the galaxy to another. If you were just doing travel the old fashioned way, you would have to have your crew procreate and train up a new generation of crew members, and on and on until the ship finally reached its destination. Cryo-sleep is a convenient way to have the same crew who leaves the port wind up at their destination looking exactly the same as they left. (I am quite sure that the main reason for this was so that they wouldn’t have to hire a whole slew of new actors for certain movies and TV shows. It’s purely mercenary... but what isn’t these days?)

So everyone gets into their little pod after programming the ship’s coordinates, they take a long nap, and then the ship automatically wakes them up once they reach their destination... ready to fight, explore and procreate as soon as they leave their little tubes. Handy, no?

But because of all this, I have tended to have a somewhat warped sense of what the word “stasis” means. It does not, in this universe, mean that you can enter a state of perfectly maintained manliness, ready to snap out of it at any moment when your ship arrives. No.... in this world, as Blake Snyder so pointedly tells us in his book Save the Cat!: “Stasis = death.”

It would be incredibly nice if we had the sort of stasis that one might find in Robert Heinlein novel, but no. We must keep moving, lest we die.

The sad part about that idea of continual movement is that not all actions are suitable to all people, something I have had to come to terms with recently. See, stasis is comfortable, but not only for the reasons that you might think. Yes, it exerts a minimal amount of stress upon the body, yes it does not cause you to have to process critically and make logical inferences and deductions, but it also keeps you from offending people.

Granted, there will always be people who will be offended, but my point is that my remaining still, by not rocking the boat, you will be able to offend the least amount of people possible. This is very handy for people pleasers like me, but it certain does a number on your own health and well being. 

So while there will be a few people who will get on your case for staying still, there will be far, FAR more who take offense at any direction you try to aim yourself in. You are either taking too long, or going far too fast. The job you are taking is either beneath you, or there is no possible way you could attain such a feat. That’s a horrible church to go to, they are far too strict, but don’t go to that one either, they are all wishiwashy. I could go on. 

But in the end, that is not the point at all. Movement causes reactions, but sitting still is worse. Going back to more nerdy analogies, most of the video games I play require a certain amount of movement... at quite a rapid pace. In fact, many of the levels in my favorite video games involve running away from a certain impending deadly force, until you reach a specific goal. 

Move, or you die. Stasis = death. Movement is required.

So now what? When the ruts are dug so deep... when the clay is hardening around your ankles. When your son is throwing you a big, fat python and you can’t grab it to pull yourself out of the pit you’re in. (Yes... that was a horrible reference to Indiana Jones 4... please hold the tomatoes.) When you are just.......

..... stuck. What then?

MOVE!

Yes, sometimes any movement at all is good. Right now? I’m going to move over 200 miles away from everything I know right now, and start over in a new town, with new friends, a new fiancee, a new church, and maybe even a new school. It’s going to be freaky scary. 

Of course, simple movement does nothing. Just moving from one place to another can become running instead of improving. And as we all know from every western and gritty action movie ever: running away from your past solves nothing. Actually, that’s pretty Biblical too. I’m pretty sure there was a guy named Achan you tried something similar, and he got his family dead for that one. (Joshua 7:1-26)

My point is, however, that when the wagon ruts become so deep that you think that you will never be able to break loose, just jump the track... and once you do, you may find that making other adjustments may come easier as well. Don’t leave anything undone though..... don’t just run. Running leaves wounds that will simply be harder to heal. But do change... change is good.

Change is good. Listen to me.... I doubt I EVER would have said that a few years ago. I hate change, but I have been changing so much lately that it would be impossible for me to deny that it is an important part of growing and learning. 

One last example, and then I think I’ll lay this horse to rest. What is the Great Commission? 

It is essentially Jesus saying:

“MOVEMENT IS REQUIRED.”

Take the message to the ends of the earth, and not only that, but the very battery that keeps us moving, the very thing that keeps us from the despair and apathy that would cause us to enter that deadly stasis is the message that we carry. Christ is alive, Christ is well and true and free. He was one of us, He came and lived and died and didn’t stay dead. There is only one character in the entirety of history that died and then came back from the dead of His own power. 

Only One who kept moving when the ultimate stasis had been reached. If there is no Christ, I would go so far as to say that stasis is the only option. If there is no Christ, then why not just stay in one place for the rest of your miserable life? Give up... there is nothing else. Life sucks, and then you die. There is nothing but stasis without Christ.

But Christ? Christ is the ultimate movement. He is the ultimate goal. He is the ultimate game, the ultimate adventure. There is nothing outside you besides Christ... at least nothing that has any sort of meaning. King Solomon, the richest and wisest king ever... of all time, said that in a sort of famous book that he wrote called Ephesians. “Meaningless, meaningless... everything is meaningless. A vapor, and chasing after the wind.” The only solid thing that he finds worth chasing at the end of his little book? Christ. The ultimate goal.

And even that king lost sight of his goal. Even he lost momentum and stopped moving... and look how far he fell. 

Christ is movement. Movement is required.

Christ is required.

Lust for Life

It’s funny how as the pace of life speeds up, we as humans slow down to compensate. I’m not sure if this is a good thing, or if it simply complicates the process; but as so many haggard old men and jaded adults tell me: “It is what it is.”

Moving so slowly myself, it’s near impossible for me not to notice this cycle of cause and effect. Over the past two weeks or so everything has become a whirlwind of activity and pine and turkey and driving and Santas. After spending nearly a week straight in my van touring Virginia, haggard seems like a very good word.

Of course we move slower; when faced with a whirlpool or cliff face, you tend to cling onto whatever piece of stable ground is in sight. You don’t want to fall, you don’t want to die. Even humans who have nothing to live for tend to actively avoid situations where their sanity and wellbeing will be tested. We like safe, we like known... even if we don’t know why.

Amid all this transitioning and insanity, around the time when Thanksgiving was transitioning into Advent, Quentin Tarantino began to come up a lot. I really have no idea why. Perhaps it was the release of his 20th anniversary box set containing all his films, or maybe he was just coming up in conversation more naturally... but I suddenly found myself holding conversations about him with my girlfriend, Leslie, and my old film buddy from college, Jeremy.

With Leslie, I expounded on Tarantino’s unique flavor of dialog and tone, and how similar it is in many respects to Flannery O’Connor (which Leslie had just been sharing with me). They both have a very strong ear for conversation and ethnic colloquialisms, and both add sudden spurts of violence to their stories to punctuate themes and ideas.

With Jeremy, I reminisced about the time we had gone to see Tarantino’s WWII epic, Inglourious Basterds in theaters together, not realizing that we were witnessing film history. The movie singlehandedly launched Austrian actor Christoph Waltz’s career, and once again threw Tarantino’s hat in the ring with such filmmakers as James Cameron, the Coen brothers, Peter Jackson and Pete Doctor. Of course, neither of us could ever forget that opening scene.

It was a given that since he came up more in conversation, the films I began to watch in my free time (which I tend to have to much of as of late) we mostly his. I began with Death Proof, then worked my way through Kill Bill and Reservoir Dogs, leading up to his masterpieces: the afore mentioned Inglourious Basterds and, of course, Pulp Fiction.

At this point, I realize that a lot of you are wondering where I am going with this, and perhaps even a few are offended by my love for such a “twisted” man as Tarantino. Allow me to explain: As I began to rewatch his films, I also started looking up interviews on Youtube and watching mini-documentaries where he talked about his work. The wild look in his eye might disturb some even more than the gratuitous violence of his films; it suggests that he is either constantly huffing cocaine, or that he had a serious case of untreated ADHD. Whatever the case may be, the wild look in his eye and gregarious gesticulation of his hands always punctuate whatever he says. The man is larger than life, but more than that.... he LOVES life.

And then it hit me, say whatever you want about his films, I want to be more like pointy jawed, foulmouthed, interrupting crazy man. Why, you ask? Because I would bet good money that there is not a day of the year where he wakes up disappointed or clinging to that last bit of solidity the day before. I would bet that each morning when he walks up, he says something to the effect of:

“Hot DAMN it feels good to be alive! Booyah! I get to make movies and hang out with awesome people and it’s totally ******* awesome! You know? I think I’m going to get myself a tasty beverage to wake up!”

His enthusiasm is infectious, and despite the fact that he may be a sub-par filmmaker, I firmly believe that it is his boundless enthusiasm which inspires those that surround him to do their best.

It reminds me of my history and math professors in college. They might not have been the best in the world, and I was most definitely not the best student, but the energy that they exuded in class infected my being. I excelled in those classes, not because the professor cracked a whip over my back, but because he loved what he did.

Anyone can be “good” at what they do, not everyone can LOVE what they do. Take for example the Apostle Peter. Poor Peter was pretty much just bad at life, he backstabbed his friends, he sliced off people’s ears and just made a general fool of himself... but there was something in him that Jesus saw that many others probably did not have: the Love. After Christ’s death and resurrection, Peter became the most vocal and prolific of all the Apostles (save for Paul, who came later). He offended, healed, preached, and probably drank and sang his way through life, never abating from the cause of Christ. Even his final request to be crucified upside down was for the Love. He loved Yahweh, and it showed.

How many of us live mediocre lives of mediocre excitement? Far too many, I would hazard a guess. The trite, cliched piece of inspiration might come in the form of: “Be the best you you can be.” But that is truly a chiasm from hell.

Instead, do it for the Love. It will make you jump out of bed, plaster a smile on your big dumb face, and cause everyone you meet to wonder what the hell has gotten into you. And you can tell them firmly that it is not hell, it is the Love. You did it for the Love.

Best and Worst Films of 2011

OK, so I've given you my thoughts about two of this past year's films, and I think it's time to move onto the others. So here it is, my votes for the best and worst films of 2011.

First up we have the

Biggest Disappointments:

-Harry Potter 8: After the first part of Deathly Hallows was released a year ago I was very excited. Deathly Hallows pt 1 was everything I was hoping it would be. Yates had finally captured the tone perfectly. The scene where Ron was required to destroy the one horcrux in the woods was particularly haunting. But with the last installment, I realized it just didn't pack enough punch. I mean... it wasn't BAD, but it should have been one of the best movies of the year... and it just wasn't. I will always remain a fan of the books, but I am saddened by how the last film just sort of fizzled. I guess it just goes to show that a film rarely lives up to the imagination of a piece of literature.

-Pirates 4: This was just sad. There was one good fight scene between the mermaids and Blackbeard's crew... but that was it. Other than that, it was just the same old tomfoolery that we saw in the second and third movies. I wanted this movie to have heart... but no, it didn't. Also it basically says at the end that love = mercy killing. Thanks Pirates of the Caribbean, I feel like that was a perfect metaphor. :P

-Hoodwinked 2: Two words: fart jokes. It's like taking the original movie and giving it a swirly. It defiles the very memory of the first movie, which I now have to remind myself that it was actually GOOD.

-Green Hornet: The epitome of forgettable. It wasn't really a bad movie, but neither was it good. It's one of those movies that you don't necessarily walk out of, but when it's over you begin to wonder "why did I watch that again?"

-The Three Musketeers: Similar to the Green Hornet. Not a terrible film... it was just... yeah. The script was pretty painful. At least it got better towards the end were the film basically began screaming: "I KNOW THAT I'M RIDICULOUS! SO GUESS WHAT?!?!?!? AIRSHIPS!!!!!!!!!"

-Immortals: I am a big fan the swords and sandals epic. And while this one was fun, it was less than it should have been. It wasn't as sweeping as Ben Hur, nor was it as bombastic as 300. Kind of reminds me of Revelation 3:16: "So because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

-Sherlock Holmes 2: I already dealt with this one the other day. Like I said, not enough heart.


Now for some of the honorable mentions

Trippiest Movie: Sucker Punch: This one got a bad-wrap, I realize that. But it was among the films that surprised me most. I mean, I knew that it wasn't going to be a great movies... and it wasn't by any means. I felt like I was on something for most of the time that I was watching it. But neither is it some sort of exploitation film that was created to belittle women. In fact, the end almost made up for the rest of the weirdness of the film. I have to give Snyder points... the man knows exactly what he's doing.

Best Documentary: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold: I really love Morgan Spurlock; not only is he a very funny fellow, but he knows how to make a fine documentary and then turn it into an event. The Greatest Movie Ever Sold is scathing and hilarious and will tell you more than you ever wanted to know about advertising, much like Spurlock did with fast food not too long ago.

Best Christmas Movie: Arthur Christmas: To be honest, this isn't really a Christmas movie. Well, it TECHNICALLY is, but it is way more than that. Christmas sort of serves as the trapping of the movie; it's fun, bubbly exterior. The real heart of the movie is a treaties on family that made me weep openly in the theater. I won't spoil it, but I loved this movie.

Honorable Mentions: X-Men First Class, Winnie the Pooh, Rango, Fast Five (These are are really good, but not quite good enough for me to go into detail about each one. Diverting and entertaining. All worth seeing once on a rainy day.)

Now.... for the list, starting at 10th favorite and working our way up:

10- Captain America: By far the best superhero movie of the year. The fact that they kept it a period piece (something which X-Men First Class neglected to do) was a plus. Chris Evans plays a fantastic all around great guy, and hence makes a perfect Captain America. As one movie critic put it: "it's patriotic without being preachy." Worth seeing even if you aren't a superhero fan.

9- Fright Night: I have not yet seen the original, even though it is sitting on my movie shelf at home. But in the wake of the long dark that is Twilight, Fright Night comes like the first rays of dawn. The fact that it was written by one of the writers of Buffy just solidifies it in the realm of fun, while sticking to classic vampire lore (they burn in sunlight, they don't sparkle, they eat people, they are not nice, they are ravenous monsters). It's just a total blast from beginning to end. Recommended for monster movie buffs.

8- Super 8: I sort of feel like I am required to like this one, as I actually know the guy who plays the lead. It's really trippy seeing the guy you used to go to Friday Morning Prayer breakfast with on the silver screen. Regardless, that is not why Super 8 is in my top 10. It's here because it is a fantastic movie. The train wreck is one of the most electric and explosive scenes I have seen at the movies all year. The cast they picked is fantastic and as the film progresses, you get to see more and more layers to each character peeled back. Spielberg definitely brought out the best in JJ Abrams in this one.

7- Drive: Talk about tone shift. My head was spinning after this movie. Bloody revenge flick, gangster movie, romance, drama, triller, car flick (duh), 80s movie??? It's ridiculous, violent, heartfelt, warm, hopeful, dangerous and filled with 80s techno. This is one of those movies you chew on. Definitely not for the faint of heart. This one is more Tarantino than Tron. So just be warned about what you are getting yourself into. Bullitt meets arthouse meets Kill Bill.

6- Mission Impossible 4: I've already discussed this one, but it bears repeating. Best globetrotting popcorn flick of the year. Explosions, tests of loyalty, cool gadgets, more explosions. Won't ruin the ending... but it's good.

5-Bridesmaids: Yes, this is number five. I am as surprised as you are. The jokes are over the top, and this is not a family film. But I was very surprised as how candid it was about the problem of free sex and how it degrades women and doesn't give them what they want at all. Parts of the movie are almost physically painful to watch, especially how Kristen Wiig's "boyfriend" treats her like some plaything that has no real emotions. That makes the appearance of Chris O'Dowd from the "IT Crowd" all that more powerful. He's an openhearted sweet guy who treats Wiig like a lady and helps her realize what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. The film boarders on falling into being a sex comedy, while at the same time beating the snot out of the genre and spitting in its face. Wiig is fantastic.

4- Kung Fu Panda 2: Best animated movie of the year. Like Arthur Christmas, this one made me cry in the theater... audibly. Jack Black has found his calling. Years from now, when people mention his name, it won't be Tropic Thunder or Nacho Libre or Tenacious D that people remember... it will be the Kung Fu Panda series. This movie blows the first one out of the water. It's not just a good animated film, it's a fantastic comedy, action flick and yes, it is even an amazing kung fu movie.

3- The Muppets: Who thought that we would ever see the Muppets in theaters again? Yet here they are. And yes, they constantly point at themselves and laugh at the how obsolete they have become and how ridiculous it is that they are forcing their way into the public consciousness again. I have reviewed this one already too, but it is just that good. It's a movie that proclaims boldly that "it's ok to be goofy and laugh a lot. In order to be relevant you don't have to be 'dark and gritty.'"

2- Rise of the Planet of the Apes: This movie was so good that I actually went back and rewatched it just a day after I watched it the first time. In fact, just talking about it makes me want to watch it again... right now. Going in I thought that the whole evolution issue might be a problem and that the film might be preachy... but it isn't. If you watch it with your kids (and don't worry, this is a totally kid friendly film aside from a few scary scenes), you may still want to have a discussion about the idea of evolution and how it has influenced modern American culture. But as I said, that comes in very little. More than anything else, Rise is just concerned about having a fantastic time. If the film is preachy about anything, it is that we ought to be careful about how we take dominion and that it does not turn into domination... I can totally get on board with that. Also: Andy Serkis is fantastic. Every scene he is in blew my mind... which was pretty much the whole movie. Worth buying and keeping next to your DVD player.

1- Attack the Block: I. LOVED. THIS. MOVIE. Yes, it's a monster movie, and yes the accents are a bit hard to understand. (If it's really all that hard, you can always turn on the subtitles.) But this movie is so much more than the sum of its parts. Now that I think about it, Attack the Block is very similar to Super 8 in a lot of ways (alien monsters, troop of kids, etc), but it is the execution that makes all the difference. Little bits like script, actor choice, cinematography and monster effects really take Attack the Block to a new level. This is one of those movies that makes you want to stand up a cheer. Worth seeing more than once.


(Random footnotes: Not going to see The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Read the book, that was enough. Have now seen Hanna and The Descendants. Both good. Might review later. Also forgot to add Trollhunter to my list of favorites. Would probably give it best non-English film. Still have not seen The Artist yet. Planning on catching it later in the next few months.)


All for now,
JSTT

Tales from the Nursing Home, Part III

Over the past year or two, I've written several times about my trips to and from a local nursing home that me and several of my friends attend every Tuesday evening in order to sing hymns and chat with the residents. Those first few visits were challenging because it was a new and scary thing; something that was definitely outside of my comfort zone. I have always had that struggle with not wanting to be pushed outside my little bubble. Everyone does, to some extent I believe, but mine took a few visits to get over.

After getting over the weirdness of being there, I began to rather enjoy going. We got to sing a lot of songs that I didn't get to sing in church anymore; old Baptist hymns and the like. I've actually never visited the home around Christmas time, but I'm sure carols are part of the repertoire. The residents were kind, loving, and almost always smiled ear to ear when we came in... although many of them didn't remember us I'm sure. The fact that we were there was enough.

But after about a year of visiting on a regular basis, it happened. I should have known that it was coming, this being a nursing home and all, but I had lied to myself for so long that it couldn't happen. People don't die. They just don't. I was a naive sod of a 20something. Our culture tells us that we will live forever, the next product will make you harder, better, faster, stronger. Buy this and you'll be a man, buy that and you'll have that perfect nerd appeal, put on this shirt and you'll get the ladies, watch this movie and you will finally fit in with the cool crowd. Death? Death is nowhere on the radar. Death is some sort of gag to be laughed at in the movies; not something that actually comes up and smacks you in the face when you are least expecting it.

There had been plenty of death in my past, but none of it had directly effected me. It had all happened behind closed doors and in dark corners... whispered about in hushed tones. Well I had just walked behind that closed door, I had brought a flashlight and I was listening very closely. Death could not remain a secret from me any longer.

Jim, one of the vocal Christians in the nursing home, whom I had seen attend my church more than once, was the first to go. He smiled the widest, laughed the brightest, and always thanked us whenever we were about to leave after singing. I felt his absence acutely. The next two that I saw fade and disappear were George and Marianne, a couple who were a transplant from Hungry. George had driven tanks in WWII, and they both loved to talk about how they met at a dance. They were never without each other, always clinging to the other's hand, never letting go. Marianne died in the late spring of this year... George managed to stick around for a week before he followed her.

After that, I couldn't bear to go to the home for quite some time. Months passed after I attended Jim's funeral, and I didn't go back. I had finally seen death's face, and I didn't want to look at it again anytime soon.

Summer came and went, as did money, friends, and the economy. Coming back for my senior year, I hadn't really thought about going back to the nursing home that much. That is until I was accosted on the street. Maybe 'accosted' is too strong a word, but I was approached. The guy who had been organizing and leading the singing at the home, himself having just got married, couldn't really take responsibility for coordinating the visits to the home anymore. He asked if I would be one of the regular attenders this year, and if so, would I be willing to actually lead the group, send out emails to invite people to come, etc. I told him I'd love to, and there I was... back at the nursing home every Tuesday.

The first challenge came in the form of trying to connect with the new residents. There are usually several categories of people there: (1) The people who don't know what's going on and love people, (2) The people who know what's going on but can't communicate it, and (3) the people who know what's going on, but are too filled with joy and Christ to care much about complaining. Jim fell into that last group, and my trips to the nursing home have never really been the same. I aspire to be like him when I am on my death bed.

But on my return to the home, I discovered a fourth type of resident: the person who knows exactly what is going on, and desperately needs to talk to someone about it. This came in the form of on Bonnie King, confined to the home because of an infection in her legs and no one wanted to take care of her. She had no mental defects that I could see, and from the first time we met she was very adamant in reminding me that she wasn't like "these people." She would gesture around her and point at the other residents, deaf, incoherent, needing love to be sure, but unable to communicate exactly what they needed on a hourly basis.

I first met Bonnie one Tuesday afternoon when I just walked up to one of the tables (we usually visit right as or after the residents are eating supper), plopped down a chair and began with my usual small talk.

"How are you all doing? How's your week been?" I asked in my best sunny day voice. Some nodded, some laughed, some said "just fine" and turned away. Bonnie mumbled under her breath.

"Big things, but can't talk... can't talk about them. Shouldn't talk about them."

I latch onto any verbal response I can get, so I pulled my chair in closer to Bonnie and asked, "Well, if you can't talk about those big things, can you at least talk about something?"

"Things aren't good," she looked at me pleadingly. Our relationship was on the fast track from there. After several minutes of talking with Bonnie, I got the impression that we were living in a 1984 world... where Big Brother was around every corner. She told me about financial pushing and rip offs, how the home owed several companies lots of money and then began jacking up prices for the residents. She detailed how little the workers in the home actually cared, how little they did to help the residents. She would quiet down or simply stop talking altogether when anyone else dared walk by, be they one of the workers, another resident, or even one of my peers come to bring some music and encouragement to the people sitting in the room.

The worst came right before we were going to sing though. While many of the things Bonnie tried to explain to me got convoluted and confused as she tried to explain them and I wouldn't understand, or she would lose track of where her train of thought was going... one part of the conversations stood out. Preceded by nothing, she gave the most damning critique of the home with her tears. She began crying and repeated over and over: "And I night, there's no one here. No other resident in my room... they're made for two people. At night I'm all alone... so alone..... so alone..."

I felt like a can of mace had just been released into my nostrils. I finally knew what was so wrong with this place. No one cares. I am often accused of caring too much; but I must admit, it does have its advantages. I go back and talk to Bonnie every week now. We just talk... about whatever she wants to talk about: politics, conspiracies, the hymns that we sing for the residents, my faith, her faith. And I resolve to never let this happen. My parents will be in my home till they die. They will not be alone. No one deserves to be alone. No one deserves to be abandoned.

JSTT