Musings from Team Fink

Journey My feet trudged along the dusty path. Every once in a while, it felt like my feet would stop moving in sudden immediacy, and my journey would abruptly stop there. Every step my feet took me, I peered forward hoping to get a scent as to what lay ahead of me, but there lay a deep fog. I managed to see subtle blurs and predict what the fog may hold in store for me, but nothing was certain. At some times I couldn’t identify what was inches from my nose. I’ve walked this path thirteen years, and have revealed new experiences in the new fog, new people, and new places. Everyday I walk this path, unsure of what I may uncover in the fog ahead of me, the fog I like to call the Future. I may not know what is buried in this fog, but I know for certain that I’ll continue to walk into the fog although it may seem scary at times. Yes, I may sprain my ankle or I may have to replace my feet with a wheelchair at times. Every step is a brand new step, even though I may turn my head to see the footprints that I have already made. I believe that while every step may grow a little weaker and I will get older, I will want to stop my steps. The fog ahead of me may finally get into my head, but I look around me. I realize that I am not alone. Friends and family surround me looking deep into the fog just as I do. They give me a shoulder to wrap my arms around, and I do the same. Some may leave and walk into a new cloud of fog, and some’s path may stop there, but some stay right here with me. Sometimes I’ll look deeper in the fog and see a light. A light that somehow whispers through the darkness “Do not be afraid, for I will always be with you. I will walk the path step after step with you.” This light tells me to love how it loves me, to help as it has helped me, and to tell others about this light’s love and glory.  — Katie

Utopia A calm, starry night fell upon a small, but wealthy town. A girl with coarse hair and dark eyes sits on the porch of her small family home. “Any minute,” she says to herself. “He will come for me.” Sitting quietly, she gazes at the starry night sky. What felt like hours later for her, a dark, cloaked figure approaches the small girl. “Come,” he says, holding out his hand. She takes the hand of the figure and follows him, knees buckling and heart pounding. Down a steep rocky road they go, into the beyond. As they approached the portal and stepped in, she finds a world much different from what she expected. She was aching with pain. All around her was fire, death, war, hatred. The child exclaims at the figure, “You promised me a world. A world that I would love. A utopia!” She collapses with anger. The figure darkly chuckled and spoke. “A utopia, huh? Didn’t you know your world was a utopia? People loved you, cared for you. You had everything you could ever want. Love. You traded everything you had for another world. The world you had was created as a utopia!” The girl wailed. The figure removed the cloak that covered his face. Underneath the cloth was a tortured, lonely face. “I was just like you,” he started. “I was in the clouds. I was loved, I had anything I could ever want, but I wanted more. A utopia. I gave up all I had just to have more. And guess what I got? Nothing. A greedy one, I was, and you, the same, but you will learn your lesson. Just as I did. You had a utopia, you just did not see it. You were loved!” He screamed at the girl. Then the tortured figure disappeared, leaving the child in the twisted world of hatred.  — Izzy

“Broken” I see it, coming for me out of the darkness. As it comes towards me time slows, my brain which was until now seemingly dysfunctional, abruptly starts. I move out-of-the-way, behind me where I was standing seconds ago a long black shaft sticks of the thick concrete wall, inches from my face. I start running, my survival instincts take over. Every few seconds I hear methodical thunk noises which I perceive to be arrows. I hear him, the man yelling out in the darkness. “I will break you!” I sprint forward, every bone in my body aching. I find my target in the inky darkness. I jump, lashing out with the last of my strength. As my clenched fist connects with the figure I yell. “I’ve been broken before!”  — Jacob

A string of laughter A string of laughter vividly bouncing on each and every stone. Flying throw the pink peddle trees. It comes from a little girl in a white dress. She is sitting on a rope swing. With her long black hair in a braid. She sits there laughing at the way the crystal blue water moves in the stream. At the way the purple flower peddles blow away in the wind. A little boy in all black sitting with his white hair all in his face. He comes out of the darkness into the light as the darkness slowly drips of his body as he turns white. laughter flows into his body as life forms the earth. The boy went to go sit with the girl on the swing. When the boy sat the girl turned into a red string. When the boy touched the string the laugh of the girl would fill the air. The boy would then stand up and walk away. When the boy returned to the swing, he wished the girl was still there with him.  Every year the boy would bring back the string, and ever year he would get older. Now as a grown man he lives his life in a small apartment in a small city not to far away from the swing. He live his gray life, boring and simple. Every day after work the man goes to his apartment. That is gray, black, and white with only one red room In the red room is all his art, all his art from his hole life. In every painting, drawing, picture was the girl.  He would always paint her back, he would never painted her face. His son would sometimes come by to say hey. The son would always ask why you can see her face? The man would always say ”you’ll see” on the last day the son father would ever see him again, the son said why can you see her face? the man would say this one more time, but this time it would be different. This time he would say, ” it’s not for you too see.”In the last year of his life he brings his grandson to the little old swing where the girl once sat. He tied the now light pink string to his grandson’s finger and asks him “what do you hear?” The grandson says, ” I hear nothing.” The grandfather smiles. — Hope

“Broken” Broken, broken is a thing that happens to us mentally and physically. Well I am not talking about getting cut or broken bones. I am talking about be broken mentally. How we get broken mentally It doesn’t just last 8 weeks like a broken bone. It can last a longer time and it can hurt more than getting physically hurt. We can change that broken thought but we are so caught  up in this human mind-set were we just pout and mope about it. Instead of that we can fix that thought. This broken thought that always try’s to find its way into our head. And most of the time we believe that broken thought. We always can turn to God for help. And if we can overcome that broken thought the gift you had in the beginning is even greater in the end. “Amen”. — Coben

Journey A journey is like an adventure… My family loves to travel around the world. We enjoy to learn about God and to have excitement in different cities. You might know me a football player, but I also love to hunt. One day I hope to travel to South Africa, Argentina, and New Zealand to hunt and explore the world. I think of traveling to a place to learn about religion or serving others. Music is a big part of culture and religion. My family was in Israel for two weeks experiencing  culture, religion, and most importantly God. One night my dad and I went into old city Jerusalem to listened to different kinds of music. We stayed up way too late. It was a memory I’ll never forget. journey is experiencing exotic places and food. that can be our perspective of journey, but maybe it is having a journey in faith and with God. We can have a journey with Christ in many ways.  Praying, listening to God, and doing what he says are all ways we relate to Him. Going to Israel was a huge change for me because I got to experience the holy land. I got a better perspective of his land, His people, and his love through traveling to this special country. — Josh

😄A String of Laughter😄 One web of emotions. Tangled in my mind. Every day one string of my web is picked out and untangled from it.  After it is gone the spider finds room to spin another string of that emotion and keep it there tangled like headphones after you stuff them in your pocket. After funny story, a fun day with my closest friends, that one string that is so strong it never breaks, so long it never runs out. The one string of the web that the spider lives for. The one string it never has to spin again. What emotion and string it loves the most. The string that keeps you alive and rich in spirit. It’s my string of laughter. — Angelina

Lord of the Flies Boys some were in this world searching for something that’s inside of them. The hot star with creepers following them though out this world. They call something that lives with them a beast something following their tracks something that has thirst for fear but they don’t know it’s them. The beast tests Them with fear and the head of fear scares Them to the point were the live on savageness the fear picks Them out like Vultures picking Them bit by bit. If lonely they let the beast go. — Mason

Broken Some things are broken, but do all things broken have to be bad? Broken can be beautiful. A picture of broken glass can be amazing and sometimes we just have to go through hard, broken times to see beauty. The oyster got sand in his shell, yet he didn’t sit there, being lazy, having a broken time, but he tried to improve it and it turned into a pearl. I think of broken as an item that is destroyed. Instead it is really something that seems bad at the time, but later can turn into something wonderful. Some days will be broken, but it can make good days even better. So do all things broken have to be bad? Well if your asking me the answer is no, because some of the broken days or items are the most fantastic. Vance Havner once said, “God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength.” This is incredible because it proves that broken items are actually giving. Broken can be beautiful. — Megan

Utopia We as humans strive for perfection and we always say ” If we could change these couple of things it would be perfect, the world would be different, we could be happy for once”. However we are never fulfilled and or selfish, greedy human nature is always wanting more and putting ourselves ahead. We think if we were the king we would do things right, people say communism could be done right if they were in charge, but power corrupts the soul and is never not abused. Power makes us even more greedy and we crave more and start thinking differently, but for the worse. The lie we tell ourselves, the lie the world tells us, the lies of politicians and the lies of media. What becomes better, what fixes the world will fall apart, from the top of the world, from the mightiest of empires comes destruction and all things will fall. The idea of a perfect world is completely unreachable and will only cause conflict, more fighting, unrest, and what may eventually lead to utter and complete destruction. The nature of man, the sin at our core, cannot allow for perfection. We always crave more than others no matter how holy we may seem. From the days we were born we’ve been crying and craving and being selfish. Our human nature will always want more than others, it will always want to be a step ahead of everybody else. It cannot agree with equality and a world that is completely fair. Evil is in this world and we cannot get rid of it. It’s always there and it will always be urging our sinful human nature on. A perfect world in fact might turn into an even bigger catastrophe than what we started out as and the mightiest societies may fall because of the root of evil within. We cannot bring heaven to earth. The only perfect world is not of this earth and it will always be the only home to holiness and true perfection. We who crave perfection so much are the reason it can’t exist. Mankind is sinful. Mankind cannot create perfection. Things will not get better. I’m sorry to say they will not. We may improve and be strong at times. But we will fall apart and start over again. It won’t improve. The world starts and grows and starts again and grows but every time it falls apart and we get more selfish and corrupted. We may not see it but we are not aware. We say make a change and we don’t do anything. What appears perfect is flawed. In a perfect world do you need equality? Should all things be fair? Are people allowed to be rich? To make a fully perfect world so many things would have to exist in a way that is impossible to create on earth. The world will never be perfect, we will never have Utopia. What we can do to improve the world might not be within government of anything like that but stepping down and making small changes that improve people’s lives. What can we do? The world is sinful and there is a perfect world waiting for us but what we do shouldn’t be fixing the world itself but changing people’s lives and the small things.  — Joseph

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