The Olden Daze...

One of a series of "interest" gatherings Veritas had in 2001 before our official "launch."
















We were on campus doing a servant evangelism project...this picture was taken while the World Trade Center was collapsing on September 11th 2001. We were still going about our business, having just learned of the crashes, and not really aware of the gravity of the situation.

Back when we were whuppin' up the weekly worship thingy.

May I suggest, for your edification, a regular reading of the Landing Place's blogroll (found here). Each of these are refreshingly sharp, dug in and deep to the core.

Of particular note was reading David Fessehazion's latest post, where he referenced his new fiancee, Amanda Taylor. You must read her April 6th post, if you are interested in just a part of the seeded legacy Mark Palmer has left in his wake. After reading, you will be moved to pray for a Kigndom insurgency in David and Mandy's corner of life with one another and their Lord in C-bus.

CAMPING

This Friday through Sunday shall see a handful of us camping in Hyoostun Wuuds. Blessed be I because it is a mere 10 minutes from my hoose. The Beanius and CeeMarsh and a host of Landing Place folks should be there. I am really, really looking forward not only to the usual Beanistics and the standard, hobbling Chris "One Shoe" Marshall (to whom I insisted that he bring his baseball glove, which was a dastardly thing to do, because he's just out of his air cast and will probably think he can rock around like he's used to doing. I will suggest he catch and let me pitch...at least he can sit for that).

I am also eager to spend some more in-depth time with some of these people from the LP. I've been watching them, reading about them and conversing with them will be stupendously enriching.

Yes, of course, I know it will rain ridiculously hard. You had to ask.

I feel like I'm on the verge of something. What kind of "verge" may remain yet to be seen. The inevitability of the collusion between multiplied, simultaneous convergencies and divergencies (both generative and degenerative) are currently warranted.

There are things I need to let go of and things I need to center around. Simplicities beckon. The eventualities of the March of 2006 still crowd and confound me. Imbecilic questions of worth gnaw like pestilent rats at my feet, so walking through this may seem facetious to onlookers and friends alike; I just hope not so self-indulgent.

I am merely 36 and I am not longing any more for a sports car now than I will be at that heralded, big 4-0 (note to self: should I perchance become independently and instantaneously wealthy, a one-off, Chrysler ME-Four-Twelve could ease such an hankering). I don't think it's a mid-life thingy because I don't know where the end of my life is enough to ascertain a mid-point. Such calculative luxuries may not be mine after all.

But I think, spiritually, physically and emotionally, there are developmental advancements and regressions that beg the above ballyhooed question. Are we talking of mere disatisfaction? Are we talking about legacy, impact, significance and influence?

I know there are creativities within that aren't being tapped into. There are disciplined excursions into the familiar wonders of the creation around me that I've been avoiding.

And you know what? It's 4:14 a.m., and this is waxing toward cyber-vomitus. I'll leave it, nonetheless, for your enjoyment.

One sign that the world around us is getting better.....another Veritasian, Andrea Birchfield, has taken the blogospheric plunge.

Keck, sharing his poultric bounty with lesser scavenging mongrels.

The march back to respective locales of service is on; some have returned, some are on their way. Now the reality sets in and the onslaught of time on this side of the funerals and memorials these past few weeks promise some gut-wrenching evaluation and processing. Friends disperse, but are not gone. In fact we are present now before one another in ways we could have never dreamed possible.

I know I am a changed man on the inside. I dare not speak much to it this early because the corpus of this regeneration is nebulous and needs formation. Intentionality and time will ensure its shape. It needs to be honed by the wisdom of fellow travelers and the abiding mercies of revered confidantes.

Ever taken a fresh flat sheet for the bed and snap it out in the air just above the surface of the mattress and watch it gently descend and alight upon the bed? That's the kind of release I felt descend Thursday from our commemoration of Palmer, in that some measure of fulness from the finished earthly life of Mark was being commuted to us, to feel that covering and to be warmed by it.

But I suspect that Mark knew that gentle heat is a consuming fire at its core....it can and shall find its way forward in the type of living that exudes a magnetic and approachable, reckless abandon for Kingdom things. That was the way of Christ in Mark's life that is still pouring itself out.