We will get there…

Category: Light-hearted



As I dug in my garden, hand tilling it yet again for another year. I relished the wind and and the cool temperature. I felt exhilarated to be doing physical labor after a long day behind a computer. I pushed the shovel in, twisted it and turned the dirt over, breaking up the clumps. I found a disproportionate amount of satisfaction in watching the clumps break apart. I would pause briefly to look around, take a gleeful note on the absence of mosquitoes and breathe in the cool breeze. Back to shoveling, up and down, in and out. Down the rows I worked my way. Blisters formed on my office soft hands, and I loved it. I would reach down to pull out a weed periodically, my hands getting coated in soil, and llama dung.

I finished the tilling, and took a rake to it. Smoothing over further breaking apart clumps, forming my growing mounds, and preparing the soil for its seed. My blisters grew, and with them my sense of accomplished pride. I knew this was making something, accomplishing something. I was preparing for the winter, and would see great return for my labor. I paused to glance over at my hops already a couple of feet tall, and thought of the bounty they might bring this fall. I thought of the fresh hopped brew I could make with them and my mouth waters. Back to work. I transplanted some tomatoes, and willed my old herb plants to bring forth life. I furrowed the dirt with my hands and prepared to put the seeds in the ground.

That was when I heard it. My blood froze in my veins, the sounds chilling me. A wild beast, growling then roaring, somewhere near me. My head snapped up as I frantically searched near by to see where the danger would come from. Again the wild roar sounded out and I near jumped, shaking with fear. I gripped my rake, and prepared for the charge, eyes still searching the horizon to see where this beast would appear. I gulped down bile, and shame at how shaken I could be. Then I spotted him. about 3 feet tall, with dark brown hair. I could only see the very top of his head and his bright blue eyes peeking over the edge of the porch. I had given him those eyes, you know. They were mine, and I saw my doom in them now. I straightened up and waved to him, and a giggle escaped the jaws of that wild beast.

Perhaps I would survive one more day. Perhaps.







I have recently been playing an online game called Rust.
Rust is a survival game where you start out naked (mostly…don’t worry its PG) with a rock, and you have to collect things to build shelter, find food, make weapons etc.  There are bears and wolves and such that will eat you if you aren’t careful, but most dangerous of all…there are other players. Other people trying to survive too, and if wacking you over the head and taking your stuff helps them survive, then they will often do that too. In essence you spend much of the game paranoid of other characters you run into… do they have a better weapon? Are they as friendly as they appear? Is their offer to come back to their house and share their food an elaborate trap?

Well, as you can imagine, best part of the game is not the game-play itself, but rather the human interaction, and the level of creativity some people reach. Observe the following two stories:

(these stories are not mine, and have been lifted from Reddit, where I found them.)

So I’m walking in the middle of the day, just trying to find my friend, back before I knew where anything was. I was completely naked, just harvesting some stone in a field when I hear a voice yell from behind me:

Dude: “HEY BUDDY, ARE YOU HIRING?” Me: “Uhhh what?” Dude: “ARE YOU HIRING MAN? COME ON, HIRE ME.” Me: “Uhm yes. Yes, I’m hiring.” Dude: “Awesome, here’s my resume.”

{Dude drops something on the ground, I walk closer to see what it is}

Me, internally, finally looking at the items: ((What the …, it’s just some torches))


The guy immediately starts hitting me with his rock, I manage to get a bit of distance between us, running away, shouting: “DUDE, DUDE, STOP IT, YOU’RE HIRED, YOU’RE HIRED!”

Dude stops, says: “Oh, ok then. I’m hired. I’ll protect you.”

He proceeds to follow me around for a bit, help me kill a wolf, and constantly, he’s approaching any passing player, saying: “Hey! Hey guys! This guy is hiring!”

I traveled with him a bit, before eventually we split up when we passed a rad town.



I was just smelting some metal and being cozy in my house, when suddenly I heard some faint steps outside. I told the guy to leave, but I kept hearing steps. I went outside, and couldn’t find anyone, so I went inside again. More steps. Went outside, and there he was, on a huge rock that was just beside my house, with the sun in the distance. I yelled at him to get out, but then he just suddenly started blasting “Circle of Life” while crouching and looking up towards the sun. Greatest moment ever. I snapped a pic before killing him.

 photo 2014-01-11_00003_zps511f6293.jpg


For further hilarity, google “Funny Rust Stories” or look Rust up on Reddit. Good times.

Light-hearted Post: A Home for Boys

In an effort to lighten the mood around these parts, I will be taking monthly breaks to write or relate something a bit more lighthearted than my normal fare. It might be a video about cats, or a story about my sons. Or it might be a terrible joke I just came across. But be prepared it is almost guaranteed to make you smile just a teensy bit. Without further ado, an introduction to my boys, quite often my muses.

The Boys

Judah Boomfist – A quieter boy  (usually), reading before he turned 3 (he is 5 now), he likes books and star wars and making high pitched silly voices. He has a strangely well developed ability to self regulate sugar intake, and will often push a bowl of ice cream away half eaten and announce he is done. (What kid does that?!) He is in kindergarten and is beginning to make friends, this can be difficult for a boy that tends toward the shy side. He likes to wrestle, but often prefers to be on the outskirts, darting in once in a while to kick or poke the enemy (me).

Wyatt the Evermoving – A decidedly not quieter boy at 4 years old, he will wrestle or fight pretty much anything. He is more interested in standing on his head than reading books, but once in a while will settle down long enough for a one. An early riser, 5am is a reasonable time for him to be up and about (he thinks).  On the many occasions that he will crawl in bed with us in the middle of the night, he manages to move, twitch and flip over constantly, even while sleeping (hence the nickname). He loves music, and has a remarkable pitch when singing. He loves video games, and “shows” and will consume them till his eyes fall out, if allowed.

Duncan Strongarm – Our bashful one, at 2 years old, he is a daddy’s boy and will often refuse momma for me. He likes lightsabers and making tiger roars. He often is so effective with his tiger roars that he will scare himself and begin crying. He is just beginning to talk more, to our delight, and usually uses this new-found skill to demand “Nanas” and “Cookies”. He isn’t as interested in TV as his older brothers thankfully, but I am sure that will come. He likes to build blocks and destroy his brother’s Lego contraptions.

In an all-too-often pants-less house of boys, my wife is often overwhelmed and outnumbered. She handles us well.  These are my boys, be nice to them.

Stephen Mattson

Inspiration. Faith. Christian Culture. Writing.

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