life is copycatted.

like an over-checked watch

he strived to make what they created

in a video of understated

re-used innovated

patches of former meaning.

And it sold.

Even I could make two squares

stencil shapes

but Picasso spent 5 years

rendering Rembrant

and a lifetime to re-remember

the reality

of basic blobs.

we yearn

we wait

we watch

for the proof of time-tried innovation

and sometimes we are fooled.

No crib for a bed.

There was never room for Jesus.
He came into the world in leftover hay
and who would have thought that just a baby

could break into the (un)stables of our hearts?

There was never room for Jesus.
But thank God He made room for us.

thank God for finals!

At the end of the day, I truly have to thank God that I have somehow been given the privilege of taking my 4th set of university level final exams.

Yes, fellow college students, it is a privilege.

While we are anxiously typing away on our Macbook Pros, sitting in well-heated, well-lit rooms with an endless supply of tea, the latest hipster music, fighting the impulse to check facebook and praying to make a passable grade in a 5 credit class, there are millions of people in the world whose prayer this evening is that they can live one more day just to support their child. That they can find food in the next dumpster. That they won't get raped tonight. That the rebel forces wont attack their village. Hoping against hope they don't lose their job. Wishing upon a star for a loving family. Crying to the Father for protection against an addiction. Screaming the pain of endless depression.

Yes, our brains have been stretched. But we need to stretch our paradigms too, and realize that

We are the lucky few.

Never stop celebrating the gift of higher education. It is a blessing that many cannot even fathom.

Celebration!

Tonight, with one finger jammed up his nose and the other hand stifling a fit of hiccuping laughter, my 4 year old cousin asked me if I picked my boogers to "celebrate".

"Hmmm...celebrate what?" I asked, trying stoically not to give into the silliness. After all, a babysitter, above all else, must make sure that the kids are asleep by the time the parents get home. At this rate, between booger chats, chicken nuggets, superhero jokes and the Land Before Time (not to mention the insistence of my 2 year old cousin to change into "prettier" pajamas), my chances of fulfilling the sitter requirements were slim to none.

As if that weren't enough, my cousin's look of mocking disbelief for asking how picking one's nose could possibly be cause for celebration made me feel like hope was lost.

"You know" he spoon fed to me "... celebrate BOOGERS!"

oh.

of course. How could i be so dense? The point of picking your nose is to celebrate boogers.

The point of boogers is so that we can pick our nose so that we can celebrate.

Such a simple concept, but so true.

The point of having Christmas is to celebrate Jesus.

The point of taking exams is to celebrate learning.

The point of attending parties is to celebrate friendship.

The point of writing is to celebrate reading.

The point of praying is to celebrate God.

My booger of a cousin has taught me something incredible.

Too often, we get caught with our fingers up our noses, searching for substance in the darkness.

But we can't just get caught up in the picking.

We have to remember the point.

We were created to celebrate.