Strange title right? Well that’s because I am listening to a collaboration of Mumford and Sons, Laura Marling and an Indian Group called the Dharohar Project. I am not sure what language they are speaking or what in the world they are saying, but I am enjoying it thoroughly. Honestly I can barely understand the English accents of Mumford and Laura Marling.

So those who are close to me know that I have a major soft spot in my heart (and stomach) for good Indian Cuisine. My various trips to Indian Restaurants the past semester may be my brightest highlights. Man I could kill for some Chicken Tikka Masala and Saag Paneer, right now. Stupid South Jersey has no culture.

I remember one of my recent trips included a server really pushing for me to order from their “Indian Fusion” menu. What exactly is that? Well I asked the same question. The waiter explained that it consists of dishes that are mixed with flavors from different Indian-like cuisine. So they are hybrids of sorts. Part Northern Indian and part Bangladesh. Part Southern Indian and Part Pakistan. Interesting combinations to say the least and to the majority of Americans it is all just “Indian”. This isn’t a blog about cultural insensitivity, but my opinion is that for the most part Americans are ethnocentric and butt heads.

Moving on. So. Hybrids. Cross-breeding. Inter-special Mating (gross). Go read Frank Peretti’s Monster. 

So this post is a hybrid of sorts. A smashing together of some thoughts and ideas and words.

First it needs to be noted that the internet I am using is atrocious and I will probably lose what I am writing several times before I can save or post it. Fun times.

Also, Nothing in my life has panned out how I would have liked or how I desired. Again, if you are close to me you may be aware that I have been quite the pile of mess for I would say at least the last month.

Have you ever heard the phrase: When is rains it pours? Well I have. And I have lived it, time and time again. It kind of stinks. And I don’t mean old garbage stinks. I mean rotting man-flesh mixed with dirty socks, vomit and a sprig of rosemary.

So here is my fusion experience. A little dose of crap from all different areas of my life culminating into a truly unique sensory experience.

I still haven’t figured out if it cost as much as my Indian Fusion plate…

But I refuse to leave my readers on a dismal note.

Life is hard more often than it is easy my friends. That is something that we all have to deal with and accept. Some of us deal with challenges more visibly and seemingly more consistently. But take this as courage.

If you are faced with a challenge, it means that you are strong enough to overcome it. It will NOT be easy. But it is more than doable. So here is my suggestion.

Make your own Fusion plate.

Look back at what has encouraged you over the years. I know it is there. Think back on all the ups that have followed the downs. Think about the lessons you have learned. And as hard as this may seem look for those nuggets hiding in the murky dark. If you feel like you have wasted a month, a semester, a year. Think and pray with all you got.

Search for those nuggets and try to see the lessons as they develop. Ask yourself in the most loving tone (avoid cynicism)What have I learned?

I promise there is a good answer there no matter how much it has hurt.

So as you are compiling all these treats, these flavors. Bring them together onto one plate. And

Begin to paint.

Paint yourself a masterpiece of Truth. See the beauty of life and Christ’s love for what it is.

You have your finished plate. Now use it. Use it to move forward through the next valley. Hold on hope.

Hold onto hope. Never let it go.

Much Love

BGTF