The Prodigal Blog

Hello. Writing in from lovely Minneapolis, MN. We've all arrived safely and I am currently sitting in the hotel room. Gotta say upfront that my roommate is a bit on the eccentric side. Oh well. Anywho, I'm going to go ahead and recount some of the events of the day so that my future self might actually remember what happened to past self. Travis spent the night. I didn't sleep too well, got up at 6am, and off to the airport. By the way, I've never really traveled within the continental US that much so this was kind of a new thing for me. Anyways, got a bit turned around within John Wayne Airport. Eventually things righted themselves, or I did, one or the other. Found Ivan, ate McDonalds, jumped on the plane, and a few hours later we found ourselves in Denver, CO. I wish I had taken a picture of some things that I saw while we were in the confines of the airport, but suffice to say that I was having a good time. Signs about tornado shelters and franchise stores that I ha

So remember that blog post from a couple days ago. That same thing basically happened again today. Except probably a bit worst since my grandmother and myself suffered some injuries. I am a tangled mess of frustration this morning. Waking up to basically a physical fight is taking a toll on me. On this morning. It is with tears that I say that I am thankful that the Lord is compassionate, even on me. It is an impressive and overwhelming statement to make to say that the Lord is compassionate and slow to anger. This morning I was the opposite of those characteristics, and in short order as well. I can't believe how patient, slow to anger, and compassionate God is to us. It is easy to be compassionate for those who have a sense of themselves. Those who can see the errors of their ways and who we perceive as being people who can 'get better'. But I perceive no such future sometimes with my brother and that weaves tangled webs of frustration, bitterness, depression. Oh how I we

This morning I realized yet again the far reaching consequences of my somewhat unorthodox upbringing. My brother got up out of bed and then proceeded to not listen to anyone about anything and decided that the best position he could be in would be a ball on the floor. This poses a problem for myself, my sister, and my grandmother since my grandmother usually has been taking him to day care. We're all usually on a schedule so there isn't always the luxury of waiting for him to decide he's ready to do something. Sometimes we just have to push him out the door and into the car. That's probably the least fun thing you can do with my brother. As I tried to coax him onto his feet he reached out to strike/scratch my hand. This provoked a response from me that I would describe as somewhere between anger and rage. I reprimanded him for trying to hit me and then we got him down the stairs. He tried to strike my face. And again later my arm. As my grandmother drove away I am fille