The Chronicle's Prelude Begins.

So if I know you, I have probably told you about my acceptance to the ISM's Ministry Internship program in New Zealand. Here's a link to further explain what the program is. If you are too lazy to click on the link, all you need to know is that its hands ministry experience along with block courses at Pathways Bible and Mission College. You have to click on that one if you want to know what it's about.
ISM mostly ministers to the huge international student population in NZ, I'll specifically be doing this in Hamilton. I'll be leaving in February of next year, so it leaves plenty of time to gather resources and funds for the trip. If you're interested in helping out, stay tuned. A budget is being worked on right now and I'll let you guys know the exact needs and ways to give and pray.
Although I'm excited to be getting back into the field and finishing up my training as a minister (what ever that entails), I've grown so attached to the community at Lakeside, my home church it's going to be really tough leaving. I'm being blessed continually by everyone here, and I won't be able to leave without leaving a part of my heart behind in wholesome Folsom. But way I can take a part of your heart with me is through partnering with me in ministry. It would mean many awesome things to have you with me in spirit as I go do the work God has for me in NZ.
Robert Frost is my favorite poet. Although I don't read a bunch of different authors, I do have a really old paperback of a collection of his poems my sister gave me before I left on the plane to Taiwan in 2008. The Tuft of Flowers almost brought me to tears as I read it on the plane, and gave me a lot to think about. Here it is for you guys:

The Tuft of Flowers

  By Robert Frost

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the leveled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;	5
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’	10
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a ’wildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,	15
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;	20
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,	25
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.	30
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;	35
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.	40
‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’