Was reading this again… man, it’s good stuff. Just passing it along…
Afresh I seek thee. Lead me — once more I pray —
Even should it be against my will, thy way.
Let me not feel thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to thee who art my only day.
But he who would be born again indeed,
Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day.
And urge himself to life with holy greed;
Now ope his bosom to the wind’s free play;
And now, with patience forceful, lie still,
Submiss and ready to the making will,
Athirst and empty, for God’s breath to fill.
Kevin says that if I am going to make fun of him, I at least can get my facts straight. He ran five miles.
Kev, you are a true inspiration.
I laugh, but the truth is, I CAN’T RUN THAT FAR. So the joke is on me and my lame, I would bleed from the ears if I ran that far, self.
My brother, Kevin. Kevo. O’Rich. O’Stupid.
(Normally, smart kid. Today wasn’t his day, however.)
PROLOGUE: It’s approximately seven hundred degrees outside. OK, maybe more like ninety. But it’s stinkin’ hot.
Speaking of which, I need a chocolate ice cream Reese’s blizzard, pronto.
ANYWAY: I get home at lunch, and a few minutes after I’m home, Kevin stumbles in the door. At this point, he redefines the word “scarlet”. You could also use him as an example of “sweating-like-a-pig”. (I’ve always wondered… how much DO pigs actually sweat? Never having been in close proximity to pigs, I don’t know. But I digress…) Poor guy looked like he would either (a) explode, (b) begin bleeding from his ears, (c) die of heat stroke, or (d) die of heat stroke.
THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: What the heck is wrong with you?
THE ANSWER: “Oh, I thought to myself, it’s blistering hot outside, and there’s nothing more refreshing than attempting to run four miles out in the sweltering heat of the noontime sun.” That wasn’t actually his answer. I can’t remember what he said. I was too dumbfounded… in absolute awe of the fact that my brother was this color. Literally.
NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL IN THE FRYING PAN.
Speaking of suicide-inspiring heat, (just kidding), Mom is pretty good to us. (Cue trumpet fan-fare): We now have a second fan for our third-story apartment! I won’t have to sleep out on our deck (not kidding) on top of a sleeping bag! LOVE YOU MA.
Best thing I’ve heard today. Nothing like a little bit of this metaphor, a little bit of that one… NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL… Wow. I don’t know if anything can top it. But, then again, it’s only noon.
This is me and my other favorite part of the Gibbs family, first night at camp before camp hair and the I’ve-had-no-sleep-all-week zombie eyes kicked in. We had a great time goofing off as usual. Some people just have the gift of sunshine, this girl definitely does. Plus, she looks dang good in her trucker hat.