squad leading is over

I’m currently sitting under a pavilion in White River, South Africa. We’re staying at Manna Christian Fellowship, a church that welcomed in our entire squad for free after we realized we were up a river with no paddle and nowhere to stay at the end of month four.

So we’re utilizing tents and hammocks while I enjoy my last five days on the field with my entire squad together; a last hoo-rah before my co-leaders and I leave them to start the next chapter of our lives.

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baseball, a beggar and the body

I was still in Georgia, walking back to the car in a joy filled mood after a winning game and the traditional Friday night firework show to cap it all off.¬†We walked slow, letting the crowd file out as to enjoy the weather of a summer’s day end; stalling in the parking lot as we shot the breeze.

That’s when he approached us.

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going back to little league

baseball background

I think there always comes those points in our walk with Christ when realizations about ourselves hit us in the face like those pop-flies we didn’t see headed our way because we were too busy picking the flowers at our feet.

And it hurts.

That’s where I found myself the other night as I laid on the bamboo floor, writing by the light of a slowly dying headlamp and wishing that my pen wasn’t leading me in the direction I seemed to be going.

Continue reading “going back to little league”

you left something

It’s kinda like that bar on tv.

Except it’s located somewhere around kilometer 37 an hour outside Phnom Penh in the middle of nowhere Cambodia.

There’s no fancy bar stools waiting for you, but they offer blue plastic chairs that are stacked double for extra strength and tied together with rusted wires. There aren’t any cocktails and the only percentage you’re questioning is for the amount of sweetened condensed milk poured into your coffee.

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I can’t pronounce his name

I wasn’t planning on meeting him.

We were only out to run errands, eat a little riverside food and head back to the emptied hotel for some much needed time of rest with the accompaniment of odd junk food and a movie.

But he was waiting for us when we walked outside, sitting sheepishly in his faded red angry birds t-shirt as if he had no idea that he had already stolen my heart, his deep brown eyes darting quickly away from ours so as not to stare too much.


Continue reading “I can’t pronounce his name”