Refuse

It's the pause in my bones that causes the concern, it's a feeling of trepidation that keeps my feet rooted into this one spot. It's seedless, fruitless, the possibility for growth is devoid by this poison wind that passes through the vines of growth. I can not turn and find myself looking forward, reaching for a movement, a change in motion from what has been into what could be, what should be. I stand stagnant afraid of the venture that should lie in front of me; for it's easier for me to stand put, only taking small, tiny steps forward and backwards, from heal to toe and back again. The hesitation is what breeds the fear, or maybe it's the fear that spawns this hesitation. Is it the opportunity or possibility of obtaining greatness, the possibility of chasing life's truest adventure, life's truest test, life's greatest reward? Perhaps, it is the opportunity or possibility of falling face first, falling flat, being told that these expectations, these achievements will never or could never be? Perhaps this inability to strive, to fully take in life's breath is based around a sense of not being good enough, not being strong enough, being completely incapable of achieving the levels of success that only the story in my mind portrays? But these fears, this tentativeness that causes me to sway where I stand, never moving forward, but not going backwards is not the definition of my being, nor the definition of my soul. This can not be what makes the measure of my time, in this short moment that we call life. The obstruction that is fear, that is doubt, they are not immovable objects, but instead, the mechanisms for achievement, they are the water that feed the roots to our growth. With out these things, these elements that are solid, tangible entities in our world; we do not advance, we do not strive, we are completely and utterly incapable of the full potential that is waiting inside of us. Embracing them, fully living with them, cohosting our bodies, our hearts and our minds, with them is the palpable necessity to what measures our journey towards our success. I can not stand here staring as the sun sets on the possibility to fully live, to fully experience everything that this time has to offer, or better put, that I have to offer, what I have to give, what I have to share. That is the key ingredient to our destination; it is the stark realization that we deserve nothing, that nothing is given to us, that what we create through the sweat and tears of our labor is what we owe the time that we have been given. Hiding behind excuses, hiding behind failures, rejections, or obstacles that life has given to us is the true ingredient and definition to being afraid, a coward, and unaccepting of ones potential and worth. I will not allow the pause to render me motionless, I will not allow the seeds of doubt to stunt my existence, I will not allow the ones around me to perplex my beliefs, my ambition, my capacity to strive for all that life has to offer. These things will not happen through stagnation, they will not fall at our doorstep, but instead, we have to take them, we have to accost them, we have to take them violently, aggressively and without trepidation, without pause. I refuse to sway, I refuse to root in the grounds of mediocrity or societal norm, I refuse to allow the fear within me or the fear of others to influence my ambition, my goals, my hopes, my dreams in this journey through my time.

Pursuit of the Tide

This time, it slithers and creeps through the pores and the cracks and adulterated surfaces of my mind. Clinging tightly with rigid, steel like talons to the curtains of my eyes, producing only a mated light for the grey spaces between my reality and make believe. It breathes and sways and wobbles in a slumped stance of motionless calm, or yet, a protruding yet subtle state of defeat. This time, it wraps it's spider like legs around my waste, squeezing each ounce of belief and hope through the canvas of the shell that I know I have become, screaming the alarm of escape, to ravage through the forest of denial and break through the delusion of self worth, or pity or doubt or pride. It glides, slowly, and with it a chill from a wind not long forgotten but so suddenly present and shocking, it pulsates through the very depth of my bones. This time, I grow weary from the constant shift of fear, its ebb and flow, it's torrent pace that engulfs us all and strips the light of the moon from the stars with a violent collision like a wrench through a spoke, taking the particles of the night under it's fingernails and washing it away in a sea of uncertainty. This time, I feel this slither, this creeping, this sway, this wobble and I dig my toes deeply into the ground waiting, bracing for the opportunity to spring forward, every inch of my skin bellowing out to connect with the flow of the tide as it comes surging by, desperate to hold on. This time, it will not pass me by, this time, I will not close these eyes and allow the light of this dance that we engage to play it's final note with me sauntering idly by. This time...

All the Spaces Between

It wasn't in a single word, or a look or a glance, it wasn't the touch of her skin, or the way that she would grin at any and all of the stupid little jokes I would tell, that normally got under her skin. And while I can think about her skin, it's the one object on earth that reminds me that there is a heaven; it's not the moon or the stars, or the sunsets, or the sunrise, but the feel of her touch and the insatiable, beautiful look in her eyes. But it wasn't those physical things that reminds me of why I've always wanted to give her a wedding ring, it wasn't that her hair would get in my face and tickle my nose, or get in my mouth any time we got close that made this guy want to propose. It was everything in-between, above and around and on top of and below that, when she was near, that brought so much love, so much peace, that made my love grow. She's everything that, when a man can imagine, that he can picture or dream or wish another person can be, that makes her everything and so much more to me. She is the face of every feeling, every why, when or where, she is the root to every reason, that when I wake up in the morning I can wear a smile, that I can have that grin, because with each passing moment I know I get to think of her again. It was never just with one word, or a glance, or just one single kiss of her soft lips, or how energized and flush my body became with the touch of her hips, but it was the everything between, everything in the middle, and above that pushes me to give everything for her love.

What Will Today Bring?

Today is not about where you've been; today is not about what you have already done; today is not about the people you have known, or the person that you have been; rather today is about what you are going to do right now? What are you going to do today to better effect your tomorrow? We all come from somewhere, we all come from something, and we have all had our share of hurts, our own failures in all facets of what failure can become, but what makes us all so uniquely different is not what those failures have been, but what success we will derive from those failures and how will they carry us forward? There is no guarantee of something better in the future, there isn't even a promise of happiness in this world, because this world can be and is an evil place far too often. More than we would like to think, we have an ability inside of us that, if we tapped into, could help change the shape, not of this world, but of our world around us. What do I mean? We all have a world of our own; in each one of those worlds are other worlds that come in contact with ours and they become combined, they become compounds of one another by our own choice. So what we do in our world can directly effect those that have combined with us to share their own. How will we effect those around us? What message will we send from our world to those around us? See, it's not about what has been or what will be, but rather, what will we do right now? How will we live right now? Will we submit ourselves to ego, pride, arrogance and ignore the finer things that are lasting in our lives? Will we submit ourselves to chasing false idols, these false idols that we are so willing to give EVERYTHING for? Will we give up our families, our kids, our spouses, our friends, our love and compassion for these false idols that, in the end, we can't even take with us? We all, and I saw WE ALL, are guilty of finding pleasure in self gratification, finding worth in title and status, and the amount of friends we have on our Facebook page, the number of contacts we have in our phones, how many emails we might receive in a day that, for some twisted reason, is our definition of our own self worth. These, outside sources, that seem to confirm our identity in our world and make us feel as though we are relevant because of the number of "eyes" we have staring back at us in our own worlds. Maybe it's because we all want that acceptance of, "hey, man, I've made it!", "hey, man, look at the new car I bought, it's brand new; what do you think of me now?", "hey, man, see how hot my wife is?", "hey, man, see how rich my husband is? We're going to Cancun next month for a week." The common thread of those statements are founded in this simple phrase, "Look at me, look at what I have." The idea of possession is redundant, tangible items, regardless of how new or how clean all have a shelf life. Eventually, these things are going to rust, and rot and fall away, but even before then something newer, something better, something faster, something more sleek than the previous version, will come out and then what do you have? What do we have when there will always be something out there that will ALWAYS seem better if we are consistently chasing title, and status, and our own definition of fame? It's a simple answer that is summed up in one word; EMPTINESS. When we get so caught up in chasing the materialistic things in this world we lose sight of the beautiful thing that this messed up world has to offer. Unfortunately, in this pursuit we lose site of the things in our world that provide true peace and contentment, we also lose track of the things that we CAN take with us when this crazy ride wraps itself up and calls it quits. The emptiness will never be filled when we are chasing the titles, the things, the toys, the gadgets of this life; there will always be that NEXT thing and when you get that the next thing, right around the corner is the NEXT thing and the NEXT thing and the NEXT. It is a vicious cycle that is never ending and is like drinking salt water - never quenches, but just for a second, before you're thirsty again and have to quench that thirst. My perception of title is one that has taken me many years to figure out, many nights of asking, "What do I want to be?" Every man wants to leave behind a legacy; many of us want there to be statues, buildings and songs named in our honor so that we can reach that level of, essentially, IMMORTALITY. We want people to sing OUR praises and remember our name because we are so deathly afraid of becoming irrelevant, of not feeling as though we are not important, we are caught up in pursuing our "legacy" that we, typically, are searching for it in all the wrong places. Until recently I have been doing the same exact thing, I've got to have my name on a building somewhere, or a street sign, or have ballads written about me, have my name on a book somewhere, or millions of books in a lot of "somewhere's" so that I can feel that I have mattered in this life on some level bigger than myself so that I have established a LEGACY. But, all these pursuits have led me to one, repetitive, end; EMPTINESS. I keep trying to feel the void because I keep asking that same question, "What do I WANT TO BE??", "What in Gods name do I WANT TO BE?", and I keep changing the answer because I keep finding that next best thing because the next best thing won't stop coming up, it won't stop changing for me because the world doesn't stop changing in it's beliefs and it's morals and what's sociably acceptable that it will make your head spin, it's made my head spin. But, there is a way to answer that question, I can assure you of that. The answer though is one of a quite nature and it may not be one that is appealing or one that will bring you great fame and fortune and you may never get to see the tides on the shores of Cancun, but it is a profound answer that you will, in the end, be able to take with you. So I, like always, ask myself, "What do I WANT TO BE?" It's good that I have kept asking that question, because the revelation that has come from constantly asking that very same question is that it made me realize that it's not about "What do I WANT TO BE?" But rather, "Who DO I WANT TO BE?" The answer for me is as simple as this, "A godly man". See in being a godly man, I will eliminate the need for chasing immortality because it is already provided for me, it will eliminate the need for titles, because I will already have one, it will eliminate the need for the tangible things to fill me up because I will already be filled. My legacy will not be one for buildings, or songs, because I'm already apart of a greater legacy; that of Jesus Christ the Lord Our Savior. I will no longer have to pursue happiness, because it isn't granted to us, it isn't guaranteed, but I will find contentment in knowing that I am not alone, that I need not be afraid because He is on my side. So what will you do today? How will you work today to fill your tomorrow with love and faith? Which legacy will you chose to pursue? The beauty of this life is we have all been granted with the gift of free will of choice; so we can do, literally, whatever it is we chose to do. What it comes down to is a choice of questions, but which will you ask yourself, "What do I WANT TO BE?" or will it be "WHO do I WANT TO BE?" I believe there is a significant difference in both. I hope and wish the highest of blessing for all of you (all three readers of my page) and that you find the contentment in your life that you're seeking.

There are many times in life that I have been left broken; there have been many a time in my life that I have felt the sting of abandonment; there have been numerous times that I have felt the bite of betrayal. Oh, there have been countless number of times that I have felt the languish from the lies that have rolled across my loved ones lips. These things, as it has been for me, so has it been for every other human being on the face of this planet; hurt, anxiety, depression, agony, pain and suffering are all eternal antagonists that never completely fade away from view in this life. The only inconsistencies in their bio is when, where, how, and to what end? The other equal cause to their effect is what will the host of their disease do in response? How will the infected deal with the incursion of the darkness that is the evil of this world? For so many, such as I have for so many years, we look to fill the suffering with a countless number of different things. All kinds of "medicines" to help cure the illness that has taken over our hearts and minds. These pursuits typically take us down a path of perils and one of little hope; it is one meaningless, insert the vice here, after the other. For me, the inflictions brought on a need for alcohol. Here is the tricky thing about alcohol; it is the best friend one could ever ask for! This might come as a shock that I would say this, but it is absolutely the truth. Like the best friend one could have it is there for you during the up times, it holds you during the down times, it is there for you when you're bored and need a pick up, it provides you with courage and a boastful pride and boldness that you might not find on your own, and it never ever turns it's back on you. This was my friend when it seemed that I had no one else in this life that could possibly understand me or the issues that I was facing in my life. Not to say that I didn't have numerous friends, in their own ways, attempting to pull me out of the hole I had placed myself in over time. Because I did have true friends that offered their support; some would just drink with me with the idea that, at least, they were with me and if they were with me then maybe it would ease some of the hurt I could be feeling. I had others, still, that knew the problem first hand and used "tough love" to try and wake me up to the reality of the world I had created for myself. But like many others, when this kind of hand was extended, I slapped the assistance away in scorn and disgust! How dare they even begin to pretend that I couldn't handle myself like a man? But I wasn't, and that is the greatest lie I could have told because it was a lie to myself. I had other friends, the most confusing to me and the ones that I, typically, rejected with the greatest amount of force I could muster, that would come to me with something different; an idea, a concept that I was not foreign too. These friends came to me with a concept of love that was greater than any other I could encounter from another person on the face of this planet. These friends came to me and simply said, "God has not forgotten about you, because of this you are not alone; leave your burdens at His feet and he will carry them for you..." Or something to that affect; as I said, these friends were the ones I rejected feverishly so, more often than not, their words fell flat and were easily discarded as gibberish. Or were they? See, for me, this idea of turning to a "greater power" was absolutely preposterous! I had grown up in the church, a Southern Baptist Church, for most of the impressionable years of my life. I had experienced God, the church and the people that fill it's halls and chairs, and the different pastors and all the hymns that were sang to praise HIS name and I had become completely numb to it all. During that time the most painful memories of my childhood were, either, directly or indirectly a product of the Church. Furthermore, that hurt, ultimately had to have some kind of a scapegoat; the church followed one doctrine, and therefore the people of the church followed that doctrine, and so their actions were either a direct reflection of that doctrine or one of hypocrisy to said doctrine. Once you tied all the ends together they all linked back to one name, the name they all professed to know with their lips, but rejected in their actions; that name being (drumroll please) G.O.D. As I stated, I knew God, I knew that, from my teachings in Sunday School and countless sermons, when we encounter strife that we should turn our eyes heavenly and pray that God provide us the strength to see the resolution for the problem we are facing. That, through Him, we can work our way around any obstacle, that we should not fear, because if God be on our side, then who could be against us? I knew these things, I had spent numerous hours with friends and mentors learning how we are supposed to serve Him and thusly, serve others during their times of need. I had learned how to mend a broken heart through the compassion of prayer and how to find joy in the darkest of hours by simply praising His name and raising our voices to the heavens. But, how can one say that they know how to deal with their issues by leaning on God when they haven't truly been tested? How can one know how to weather the storm if all they have experienced is a slight rain? While I professed to know him, my life, in my opinion, was normal; mom and dad fought, dad enforced punishments for actions against his standards for our house hold - so I had no reason, that I knew of at that time, to really doubt Him. Then, at a young age, I did encounter my first loss; my grandmother, whom I was extremely close too, passed away from a horrible bout with breast cancer. She was beautiful, and as much as my parents shielded me from the utter devastation that the cancer was causing throughout her body, I was still able to see her wither away. Then, God did something that reinforced my belief, He put her cancer into remission for a time being; Ah, alas, it must have been those numerous prayers from those of us that loved her dearly that took her cancer away. Oh, what a day to know that God had been listening and that He put His hand over our family and had saved our wonderful grandmother. But that joy and that affirmation of faith was, just as quickly as it was lifted, swiftly wiped away when the cancer returned like an avalanche, cascading through her body. This time, as it seemed to me, God did not put His loving, protective hand over our family and he allowed the cancer to take our beautiful Grandmother, mother, and friend away. HE took her. HE allowed her to die. HE was the reason that she was no longer available to pick worms out of the ground with me in their back yard, HE was the reason my mom would cry, suddenly, and out of no where. HE was the reason that she would not be sitting next to our Christmas tree that coming Christmas as she had done for all of the Christmas' that I could remember in my life. OH it was YOU, God, YOU'RE THE REASON FOR THIS PAIN. I was in 5th grade and it was the first time in my life that I felt the doubt creep into my life about the true existence of a God that was supposed to be all knowing and all powerful. Many of you might read this and think to yourself, "that's child's play in comparison to what I had to experience growing up..." I will agree with you, there are always things in this life that are worse. However, for me, that was a moment in my life that derailed everything that I had come to know and understand about my faith. It brought emptiness, confusion and a hurt that didn't just settle in on me, but for the rest of my family. It was never the same again; not long after my grandmothers death, our family, on that side, slowly started to drift apart. See, after her, I can't remember a time after that we all got together for holidays or bbq's just to enjoy one another's company. It was as though she had been the glue that had held us all together and not a single one of us had known that she was the key ingredient. Before this, I had never questioned God's existence, I had always just believed because my parents and church had told me that I should believe, but I had never questioned why? Why should I believe in someone or something, that I can not hear, touch, see, or feel? I listened to the stories the bible told and they sounded magical; the miracles, the fables of hope, reconciliation, joy and happiness. But miracles, Jesus, through God, had performed miracles; he brought the blind site, sound to the deaf, food to the poor, and life to the dead - I say again, LIFE to the DEAD. If He could provide miracles then why could he not provide the same kind of miracles now? Why was my grandma not worthy of his love? Why was my family not worthy of His mercy and compassion? Why could we not have been provided the miracle of life? These were the questions I lay in bed at night and asked myself when I was supposed to be praying and repenting; asking for forgiveness for my own sins. But why on earth would I want to ask for forgiveness to a God that had allowed this? If anything, to me, this God of mine should have been asking me for forgiveness for what he had allowed; after all he was the perpetrator of the hurt we were now all going through. In that moment, lying in my bed, I slowly started to lose my connection to the church and to my faith; instead, I started to form a shell around my heart and created a façade that would be a depiction of a young man that fully loved Christ and one that was filled with the Holy Spirit. But each Sunday morning that I was made to rise and go to worship only fueled the hatred that was growing inside of me for everything related to the Faith that had been like a warm, protective blanket to me for so long. I had begun to HATE the idea of God, I begun to HATE the idea of worship and praise to Him. Furthermore, that hate drove me to have a disdain for those that I had called friends for so long. They became ignorant to me each time they called out to God in prayer, they became liars, in my eyes, each time they lifted their hands in praise, and they became enemies each time they professed Him with their lips. I had created a cement shell around my heart and no one, especially God, was allowed near it. The downfall wasn't immediate, it generated a quite momentum over many years. There were moments in those years that the cemented shell around my heart was tested by loved ones, also tested by God, but never was it fully cracked. Each time they attempted to chip away at it I found a reason, or life gave me one, to repair it and each time make it stronger. I left my parents home, mainly because they had also abandoned our home, when I graduated high school. I set off for college with the excitement that every eighteen year old feels when he knows the bounds of his home life are being thrown down. It was also an excitement of a new beginning; the last years of my life in my parents home were not the greatest of times; my father and I, whom I had also been close to growing up, had drifted to a point where I felt he couldn't even stand my presence in the room any longer. Maybe it was my own mind, the guilt I felt, or the overwhelming urge I had always felt to please him, but never felt like I could fully do even though he told me on many occasions that I had made him proud. But, what I didn't know, as I flew off to start my new life, that the old life that I was so anxious to get away from was falling apart around all of us, and maybe only God knew then, without a sound. It wasn't long into my freshman year of college that it completely crumbled and my mom no longer loved my dad and even less time before they separated and they were no longer "mom and dad" as I had always known. In the muck and grime of it all was my 13 year old brother; he was by himself, more so than even I felt, made to fend for himself and act as a liaison between my embattled parents. I HATED them as well for this! But, old habits die hard, and since I had learned to hate God as well, I chalked it up as another reason to believe that following a "God" as so many fools did, was one that only led to disappointment, hurt, despair, and false hope. The shell around my heart grew stronger. Another first sprung before me, but I was unable to see it because my eyes were shut so tightly just trying to hold on to my life that I never saw it. At 19 I turned to alcohol, for the first time, to solve the hurt I was feeling. It was oh so beautiful! It was my miracle, because see, it solved the issue of pain, it relieved me from my demons and it took me away from the reality of my life. I didn't have to face it anymore and I was able to find a new warm, protective blanket in a bottle. Why, I thought, had I not realized this years ago? But that momentum I mentioned before; it was so very quiet, because what I failed to see was the devastation the drinking was causing in my life around me. I stopped going to classes, I broke up with a good young woman that, truly, wanted the best for me, I pushed as many friends away as I possibly could to make room for the ones that were going to support me in my downfall. The numbness had taken hold, and the shell around my heart was complete; I could no longer feel the emotions that caused so much hurt in the past, and in doing so, it created an inability to love; not just love those around me but I had stopped finding a reason to love myself. For the first time in my life I felt that there was absolutely no reason for my life, I didn't want there to be one. While I was not one capable of killing myself out right, I thought maybe if I just drink enough one night, maybe I won't wake up and it will be considered an "accident" and one that those around me would not be so surprised by. But just as quiet the momentum was during my downfall, so is the voice and love of God; He watched over me, He still cared for me, He still loved me and He never stopped trying to make himself heard in my life. But God can only work through our hearts; free will of choice makes it this way, and see, I had that shell around mine so I could not hear Him any longer. Furthermore, I didn't want to hear Him, I didn't want to feel Him, because, after all, I didn't want to feel anything anymore - it was safer not to feel and I did this by staying in a constant state of drunkenness. I had come to a point in my life where being drunk was easier than being sober and I intended on keeping it this way. I did a really good job for a long while. Over the years, that state of numb changed; it shifted into a different sort of evil in that it made itself appear as though it had disappeared. Over the years the initial hurt of the divorce and numerous other events that took place, subsided, as all things tend to do. I had gotten to a point where I had fooled myself in believing that I had survived and came out the other side a better person in the end because of it. Yet another lie, of many, I told myself. The initial storm of my life had subsided, but I had only learned to live with the wind and the rain, I had not learned to find shelter from it, I had not learned to cope with the storm, but instead embrace it somewhere deep inside of me. So the storm still waged on inside of me; it's only reprieve were in moments that were supposed to be filled with completely happiness, like my first marriage and the birth of my children. But as always, the storm was present, swirling around the cemented shell of my heart. When I could start to feel again, or even the inkling of feelings, I would use the alcohol, I would become dependent upon the shell to save me from that emotion. But as the emotions became increasingly difficult to deal with the shell around my heart had to grow stronger, the storm would become bigger, therefore forcing me to find alternate outlets to the potential pain I might have been feeling. Because of this, other vices became necessity; I ruined my first marriage through lies and deceit and through those things I lost the two things that were the most important to me; my children. My children were the only things in this life that were able to find a way through that shell and into my heart - as if they had found a tiny crack to slip in through. They were the only ones that I could provide true love too; but even with them there was still that shell. See, with them, the hurt and devastation of my parents came crashing back into reality. Because of this it made me afraid of my own children. I was, literally, afraid of my own children. Not because they were bad kids, or some devil children that caused havoc everywhere they went, but because I was deathly afraid of doing to them what my parents relationship had done to me! Yet, there I was, my own life was mirroring that of my parents; my own actions were a direct reflection of theirs and I found myself embroiled in the midst of a divorce. I no longer go to come home to them, I no longer go to see them on a daily basis, and therefore began to feel as though everything I touched was ruined. That somehow and some way I was able to kill off anything pure and good in my own life and, even worse, in the life of those I cared about the most. I felt completely alone. The keyword being I FELT. I felt the hurt that I had caused them, my ex wife, my family and friends. I felt the disappointment of not being able to make it work, I felt the shame of the decisions I had made that led, inevitably, to the demise of my covenant to a God that I had sworn I didn't even believe in. So, I was, in fact, alone. Or so it seemed; there was a friend of mine that came knocking on my door, I had forgotten about him. I had forgotten how good of friends we had once been. We hung out on occasion over the years and had some good times together, we had also encountered some of the worst times together, but over all, we were still very good friends, indeed. Out of no where, there he was again, knocking at my door, "RAT A TAT TAT! Hey, man, you forget about me? I see you're struggling, you've turned to me before and here I am now." This friend had many names; Budweiser, Bud Light, Captain Morgan, Crown Royal, Grey Goose, Shiner, Busch, Coors, Coors Light.... The list goes on, and I invited him in along with all of his friends. Ten years later I was, again, a full blown alcoholic, but this time wasn't like the last. I was now functioning as an alcoholic, while that might sound foolish to even say, I was functioning; I went to work drunk, drove drunk, worked out, at times, drunk, woke up drunk, went to sleep drunk, etc. All the while, not many were the wiser to it. In fact, many of them now, would be surprised at my admittance of it. However, there are many, as well, that knew all along. Much like before, I had many that reached out in their own way; drinking with me, tough love, and offering God's love to guide me through. Much like before, I rejected them all. This time around, I was determined to drink it all away; not just the hurt but everything that I thought I knew about myself. I was on a mission to end the hurt that I was inflicting; I couldn't stop it myself so I was going to drown it in each and every bottle I put to my lips. It became a mission, it became a competition with myself that I wanted to win against myself. I had truly given up on everything that I had ever known. I was going to exact revenge on the world, on God, on anything that I could or would consider good in this life. Like I said before, this time around was different than what I had experience ten years prior, this time I wasn't drinking just to stop feeling, this time I was drinking myself away because I thought it was what was best for my kids. As sick as it sounds, I felt as though not having me in their lives was the best thing I could do for them as a father and because of this I was determined to make it so. Obviously enough, I didn't win that fight, because I'm sitting here writing about it today. Unfortunately, at least unfortunate to me at the time and the goal that I had set for myself, life or something else had a different plan for me. See, at the height of my drinking someone new came knocking on my door. Not that this person was entirely new, she had been in my life for several years but I had never really had the ability to take full notice of her. But, needless to say, there she was and as soon as she was something inside of me shifted without me even knowing. Maybe, looking back, what I had felt was the shell around my heart was slowly starting to crumble; it had spent so long in that shell that, as does anything, it was growing old and carrying it around had grown so very tiresome. Which, is why I know that there is a timing for everything in life; because here was this woman, entering into my life right around the time that the burdens I had been carrying were becoming so heavy, so claustrophobic I could barely stand being in my own skin. It wasn't an explosion in the night, or some awe inspiring moment that came falling down into our laps in reference to how our relationship began; see, she was hell-bent (ironic phrasing there) to make me realize that WE would only and always be JUST friends. This woman had an idea in her mind and in her heart about how she wanted a relationship to be and that image for her was one of a home filled with a love for God. She wanted a godly man, she wanted a man that would lead her family in the ways of the Lord and one that would provide for her and her child in that way. I'm sure this doesn't come as a shock to anyone, but at that time, I was NOT a Godly man - not even in the parking lot of the ball park of a Godly man. "Justin, you're a nice guy but you're not a good guy!" She would say to me, and boy did that ever get me going! Because, if I was being truthful with myself, I WANTED to be a GOOD man, not just a nice man! Before any of you crucify her because of a lack of understanding from what she was saying because it's out of context, allow me to clarify; what she was saying, the word she was using just had one to many O's in the word. It's not that she thought I was a bad person, it's not that she thought that I wasn't a good person, but what she KNEW was that I was not a GOD kind of person and, as I stated before, that is what she wanted for her life. She too, had just come from a very rocky relationship, one that didn't have God in the center of it, and for her that demise in that relationship, while it was one that she didn't truly want, was a failure in her eyes and she didn't take that lightly. She was also trying to keep me at a distance because she knew she wasn't fully ready for a new relationship, but, as for me, so it was for her in that life had a different plan! After a month or so of hanging out, it was finally obvious to us both, even if we tried to deny it, that we had fallen for one another. We were completely and TOTALLY into one another and we both knew it even though we attempted to reject it. I'll never forget the first time the word "LOVE" was used; she knew, before me, that she wanted to tell me that she loved me but was scared to do so and rightfully so. As soon as my idiotic butt knew that I was falling into a serious relationship, with very serious feelings that old cemented heart of mine started to rear it's ugly head. It started to pulsate and twitch inside of me in torment because the shell around my heart was growing tighter, as if it was fighting to keep it's positioning around my heart. I had made clear to her that I didn't want a serious relationship, that I wasn't ready and that the "timing" wasn't right for me, but she wasn't having it - she knew before I did of what our relationship could and would be (women always tend to be so much smarter in that regard than men). So she stood in the door way to my room, about to leave to head off back to her home when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and wheeled around quickly; to both of our surprise she spouted off, "Justin, I love you...." I sat frozen for a minute, not sure of what I had just heard, and we stood there for, what seemed like an eternity, and just sort of stared at one another waiting for someone to break the awkward silence. She was the first to speak; "I mean, I'm not IN love with you, I just want you to know that I love you and I always like to let the people that I care for so much in my life know that I feel that way about them, so you don't need to freak out...." I, looking back and she could probably tell you better than I can, am not sure of what my response even was to her. I know it wasn't good enough, that is for sure! She walked out of the room with a smile and the grace that she always carries herself with and left my house. For me, on the other hand, I was frozen. All I could hear was this rumbling in my chest, that was like a freight train running down the tracks in a secluded town, blanketed in the harshest of winters, in the belly of a mountain range for all the vibrations, clangs, and whistles of said train to bounce off of. "What is this?" I thought to myself. What I know now that I didn't know then was that it was pieces of that shell falling away from my heart. Over time, our relationship flourished and things, for the first time in a long time in my life, were peaceful. We did everything together; we ate together, we worked out together, we sang together, we spoke into the wee hours of the night about life, and love, and dreams and ambitions; we encouraged one another, we helped one another, we supported one another and it was beautiful. The storm inside of me had resided and the winds and rain had calmed for the little bit of sunlight she had brought into my world. But like any storm, it wasn't ready to relinquish it's power. We dated for several months before the cemented shell around my heart found some kind of reserve strength to rebuild itself. All of a sudden the storm was raging again inside of me and I could no longer allow myself to feel the way that I had been feeling with this beautiful woman. So like many times before I started to rebuke the feelings; I began to sabotage the relationship as much as I possibly could, just knowing that soon enough she would have enough and she would give up on me and walk away and so would the feelings that I had and therefore making me "safe" again. I tried so hard to push her away, but the darn girl wouldn't give up on me; the harder I tried the harder she held on, as if to say, "No, you're not going to do this, not this time." She started taking me to church, she started telling me more and more how much she loved me and that she knew I loved her and that we are great for one another. Still I fought. But so did she, and this was something that was very foreign to me; everyone else went away when I used this mechanism, they just didn't hold on and I was thankful they didn't, or so I thought. Abbi, on the other hand, was more content on fighting it with me than allowing me to push her away, and so I didn't. Abbi and I stayed together, she never gave up, and we are still together today. During that time something happened that I had never foreseen as being possible; the cemented shell around my heart had fallen away, it crumbled away and was no longer existent. However, somewhere along the line that shell had molded, beneath itself, a cage and now my heart was a prisoner. The biggest problem with that, and the reason I describe it as a cage is because my heart was no longer shielded from wanting to feel, or wanting to love, but it didn't know how! I had gone so long without allowing myself to open up I had forgotten what it was like to give yourself, fully, to something or someone - in all actuality, I had probably NEVER given myself fully to anyone! So there it was, dying to burst out, but couldn't because now it was restricted to this tiny cage that didn't allow it much room to breath. The feeling was almost unbearable, I hadn't a clue of even how to live with myself, let alone live for this beautiful woman that was trying to give me her heart and I couldn't take it because my own heart was trapped. She, over time, had begun to slip with her walk with Christ, probably because of my poor influence, even though she would never admit it, and after all the time of fighting for this had began to feel worn down. She knew in her heart of hearts that the only way to fix how either of us were feeling was that we had to fully turn ourselves, our struggles and fears, and our lives over to the Lord. She had attempted time and time again to make me see this necessity for the Lord being in our relationship, but then again, the timing for that wasn't right - maybe not because of me, but I believe that God knows what he is doing; he KNOWS me better than I know myself and at that time in our relationship it wasn't right to him. But the important part of this is that she never stopped listening to God, and somewhere along the way God told her that she had to step up and that she could be the only vehicle to deliver the love of God to me in a way that I would finally open up to Him. It's amazing how God uses people; Abbi conceded to God's word and finally came to me with an ultimatum, "For us to work we both have to focus on God, we have to get us right if we want us to be right." She demanded that I seek counseling, that I find a church and that I attend said church on a regular basis. Through her, what I had pushed away for over fifteen years came flooding back to me in less than two weeks. I went to counseling at a church, I found a church and have attended it every Sunday so far, and now I pray with her every single day. We do devotion, we encourage each other, we hold each other not just physically, but emotionally as well through accountability, compassion, and understanding. While I'm not going to sit here and pretend that all is better and that we are completely healed; instead I can tell you that, while not perfect, I am forgiven. I no longer crave alcohol, instead I crave to find understanding in His word. I no longer crave the slings and arrows of this world, but instead I arm myself with the armor of God for it is He that makes my path perfect. (Psalm 18:32) The concept of being a good and nice man has now turned into being a Godly Man; my selfish desires and addictions to status and popularity are now replaced with a humility and a sense of servitude to those around me that might be falling down the same chasms of life that I had fallen down for so many years of my own. See, God, used her to get to me. He knew, all along, that under the shell of my heart I had built a prison for myself and that I couldn't be reached through his divine word, or his whispers in the storm if you will. But, the important part is this; He never gave up on me, even when I turned my back on him. Through the storms of my life He continuously called out my name, like any good father would do, trying to help me find my way home to his loving arms. My heart, is now cage free. The anger, bitterness, disdain, doubt, depression and shame, while still somewhere inside of me, has been handed over to Him, and he, as he does for all of us, has assured me that it is ok. So, more so than ever before, I will praise Him through the storm, I will profess him with my lips and not deny him through my actions. This is my story of salvation through our Creator in the Lord Jesus Christ, and this is my testimony.

Imperfect Perfection

I saw the light stray, I saw it drift and dance across your finger tips as you flung yourself towards the uncertainty of the painted night sky. I could see your eyes rolling through with mine as we took in the mist of the calm, the beauty of our senses interlocked like timid fingers. We called out and swayed in the breeze of temptation and collapsed under the crush of a budding love. It seemed timeless and frozen, as if we could pick it like an apple from a tree. With my hands on your waist and your lips at the nape of my neck I held you, feeling the cold night air, feeling the warmth of your breath, we were lost in this cataclysm of emotion. All at once, in a singular motion, life shifted, future began to shade into reality and into present. It tiptoed right behind us, smiling all the while, gently snickering over our lack of perception. It tickled our shoulders, it danced down our spine, and we melted, both in to one another, two now to one. Our horizon began to shift, become closer, and in all of its static became a faux picture of what could be and what should be. We closed our eyes and imagined, in our own way, what that picture had become, both with our own strokes of our own brush. While separate, and different, the pictures were similar, and in that moment we knew that we would continue together, that we would take a hand to the handle of a singular brush and begin to orchestrate our canvas together. And as it was, we would make a perfect imperfection, through the hope of our tears, the determination of our pain, the inconsistency of our happiness, and wrap it all in a blanket of joy.

Consistent Life

There is one constant in life; this one constant is that life is ever changing. From one second to the next, one moment, day, year; the people and world around us is always evolving, shifting to fit into the environment that it finds itself in so that it may better adapt. That is a constant, the consistency life, so graciously, provides for all of us is the stability of consistent instability. Not that this perception is one found in a negative light; on the contrary, this rebirth that is perpetually happening is that of a positive. We all evolve due to our experiences, good or bad, due to the people that we associate with; friends, family, coworkers, etc. And through these experiences we take on new ideas, new theories, new ways of believing our world and the world around us should be (or the way we wish it would be). Understanding these changes can be a determent or complicated at times. Reason being, I don't believe, we don't completely shirk the emotions, ideas, or feelings that we've scrapbooked throughout our lives. You mix these memories and outcomes with what our mind perceives our lives should be and it can become a volatile affair of the heart. Disappointments are crafted in this manner, failures are born from these ideas and because of them the changing process can become a tedious one. Those around us would say, "Let it go, these struggles made you who you are today...." but sometimes, unfortunately, the bottom line is we may not like who we are today. Maybe it's a love lost, a job opportunity squandered and now the idea of facing change, a new change, isn't as exciting or as acceptable. But the right frame of mind for these changes, whether they are up or they are down, is to understand that the only control we have is over ourselves. Outside of that, the only control we have is to understand we have no control at all; and when we come to realize this it opens up a level of freedom that one can not explain. With this idea one can truly start to challenge the inconsistency that we can sometimes find floating around our world; it's the idea that we must understand that who we are or who we want to become is based on letting the rest go. We can't control our friends, our loved ones, or our coworkers; whether they love us, like us, or accept us is completely out of our hands. For me, this understanding has been a slow, heartbreaking at times, tedious process. I am one whom relishes the idea of control, the opportunity to have a say in everything that is around me or that I involve myself with. Because of that longing for control it has had a complete and total opposite effect; the more I pushed the more things got away from me, the more I tried to keep the things around me the same the more they changed. I have loved and I have lost, I have failed more than I have succeeded, I have embraced the ever fragile workings of life and I have fought back against it only to find myself flat on my face and with more questions than I had when I started. But with those (as the old cliche goes) I have become stronger, I have a better understanding of self-worth, and found a calm that allows me to see everything in my world for what it is and not what I hope it could be or should be. Relationships are that much more meaningful, because there is no guarantee on when they will end or when life will change those involved. So now the idea of change is welcomed and it carries a sense of control and freedom like none ever felt; so that in a second, a moment, a day, a year there are no regrets and no dreadful "what if's" about anything that has gone on. I have learned that all of these things present and past are what will shape the future and this understanding brings a serene stability to an ever changing world.