My Christmas Conundrum

There are many Christians who have objections to different aspects of Christmas. For many years I and many other like minded Christians have decried the secularization of Christmas. It has become a holiday centered around Santa Clause and reindeer and frantic shopping and over extending one's self financially to meet various relatives', friends', and colleagues' elevated expectations. The only Christ to be found in most Christmas celebrations is in the name, unless of course it is spelled Xmas to remove even that last vestigial reference to Jesus.

If I may digress here for a paragraph, the letter X actually is an accepted symbol of Christ. This should probably be kept to ourselves though. I'm sure that the ACLU, who in rather Grinch-like fashion try to steal a little bit more of our right to public expressions of Christmas each year, would probably object to that spelling also if they were to learn this.

Then there are the very strict, fundamentalists Christians who make the point (a very valid point by the way) that Christmas, as most Christian holidays we celebrate, finds it's origins in pagan traditions. Neither our Lord nor any one else in our Holy Bible ever commanded us to celebrate this holiday.

As for myself, frankly I have not been that ardent of a celebrant. I mean I'm not Ebenezer Scrooge or anything, but I could take it or leave it. If we had all stopped celebrating it a few years ago I would have offered no protest over it. I would have looked back at some aspects of it with a certain fondness. I like the pretty lights and some of the tunes are catchy and sing-a-long-able and who doesn't like celebrations that include lots of turkey and stuffing and usually multiple deserts, but my life in general would go on and my spiritual life would not suffer the least bit in it's absence. I would still be just as grateful for Christ's incarnation as ever I was.

BUT ...

The attacks on Christmas now come from secularists. As secular a celebration as Christmas has become, as much as it's focus has shifted away from Jesus' birth, to the point where many Christians barely see it as a Christian holiday, the secular progressives still have a problem with this holiday. Even after it has been gutted of it's spiritual significance and left only a shell of it's former self, they still can't stomach an official national holiday with any trace of Christian tradition or symbolism - overt or implied.

What is the conscientious Christian to do? Do we defend this holiday that can at this point only minimally can be called Christian and that many us only lukewarmly embraced to begin with? Or, do we let the secular progressives win the day and take control of the public square whilst our ideals and traditions are impugned, trampled on and quashed?

Quite the conundrum ...

I Wasted A Day

I wasted a day.

I am not proud of this.

It was perfect and untouched, rife with potential, a gift from God, and I squandered it away.

On the surface this doesn't sound like such a big deal. I have done so before with no perceived major consequences and so have you. And by wasting a day, I do not mean simply taking a day off. We all need a day here and there to rest and recharge. God even commands that we rest one day of every seven.

What I am speaking of is actually wasting a day, neither accomplishing anything worthwhile, nor finding rest or contentment.

My problem with this is twofold.

Firstly, I see a disturbing pattern here. I have done it before, with alarming frequency, and since according to Sir Isaac Newton, an object in motion tends to remain in motion in the same direction and at the same velocity unless acted upon by an outside force, I see no reason why, without some intervention, this pattern will not continue indefinitely. (or at least until the end of my days, because ...)

Secondly, the number of our days is finite. We are given a limited number of days in which to live.

Doing the math, if I live to be 80 years old, that gives me slightly more than 29,000 days to live (or waste). If I waste only 1 day per month that would be 960 wasted days – over 2 1/2 wasted years – years of days that I will never see again – each beckoning to be lived.

I can picture myself at the end of my life begging God for another two years and God patiently explaining to me that I already wasted two and one half years that He did give me. Why should He trust me with another two?!?

Now I will cut myself a little slack. I am, after all, human and I live in an imperfect world where 100% efficiency is an impossibility. But still, I can't help but feel that I can do better than I have so far. And the first step, as they say, is admitting I have a problem.

Lord please help me to redeem the time. Please forgive me for every day that I have wasted and help me to live every day that I am given!

I Need My Pain

“I don't want my pain taken away! I need my pain!” - Capt. James Tiberius Kirk

OK, maybe he is a fictional captain of a fictional starship on a fictional five year mission. Maybe warp drives, sub space frequencies and beaming ourselves through space are all fiction. Maybe Klingons, Vulcans, and Tribles only exist in the minds of Sci-Fi fans and at Trekkie Conventions, but there is some truth in this quote.

I do need a certain amount of pain to mold me into something beyond my former self. Not that my former self was a terrible thing, but that me was not as strong or as useful or as deep or as able to empathize with others' pain as the person my life experience has formed.

Analogies to this principle abound. Precious metals are purified by fiery heat. Diamonds are formed through intense pressure transforming simple carbon into something both strong and beautiful. A seed must fall to the ground and die before it can grow into what it will be.

Gold is still gold as it is formed in the ground. It still is what it is. There is nothing wrong with it. But compare that to the finished product, after it has been purified, and the difference is astounding.

There is nothing at all wrong with carbon. It has many uses. But compare that to the strength and beauty of a diamond, forged over time in the intense pressure deep within the Earth, and you appreciate the difference.

What about a slab of marble? It is valuable in and of itself. But, how much does it's value and beauty increase as the master craftsman patiently chisels away at it?

How about the tree that produces beautiful fruit after a dormant season and a good pruning?

I guess my point is that we all gain strength, value and yes, even beauty – and produce more and better fruit – as we endure the heat, the pressure, the dying to self, the pruning and the patient chiseling by the hand of the Master.

As I was going through my divorce the pain and hurt were so intense that at times I felt like I could not take it for one more minute. I asked God over and over “why?”. Could He not have accomplished my growth by some less painful means? It was only over time that I realized that I am so stubborn, and slip so easily into complacency, that as long as I am comfortable, I will not change and grow.

Please don't think that at this point that I have it all together. It's not like I can say thank you God for allowing me to go through a divorce so that I could learn valuable lessons. I am not to that point yet. I may never be that spiritual. But I can say thank you God for all that you have taught me in going through this. Thank you God for not allowing it to be a wasted opportunity. Thank You that it was not just pointless suffering. Thank You for each lesson learned, even if the lesson came at a high price.

Pain is necessary.

However, on this point I must disagree with our intrepid, fictitious captain ...

I don't need to carry my pain around with me for the rest of my life!

As much as I need my pain, I also need it healed! I do need to carry around the lessons I have learned forever and make them a part of who I am. That does not mean that I need to carry the pain itself with me and to feel it for the rest of my life. Letting go of the pain does not mean that the scars or the lessons will be lost.

It is enough to remember my pain. Why drag it around like a ball and chain? Why let it drag me down? Why let it hamper me or slow me down? Why not throw off those shackles and cry freedom and walk on unencumbered?

Letting go of my pain – you wouldn't believe what I went through to learn that lesson ...

Policy Discussions In The Public Arena

Please let me apologize in advance. In no way do I wish to become a political blogger, but my writing is about whatever is on my mind and this issue has certainly been on my mind quite a bit lately. If any of you feel that this post reveals me as a member of the vast right wing conspiracy or a fundamentalist, evangelical, right wing extremist, then please accept my sincere, if half hearted ... "whatever".

Here is my burning question: when did it become okay to discuss matters of foreign policy in the public arena?

What kind of idiocy is it to tell your enemy, who is sworn to annihilate you:

• what you will or will not do in the course of interrogations?

• how long you will engage him in battle before you give up and go home?

• that you think the war is already lost?

• that "the nuclear option is off the table"?

• that you believe U.S. Forces are stretched too thin to effectively fight another campaign?

• that you not only disagree with, but will actively work to undermine the efforts of your commander-in-chief?

Some of those statements may in fact be valid. Some of those points absolutely need to be considered and debated from all sides. But, this debate should be done internally and with our best interests at heart, not publicly for the express purpose of denigrating your political adversary and furthering your own party's grab for for power!

The very fact that certain people drag this debate out onto the world stage instead of fighting for their positions within the halls of government and out of the glamor of the spotlight to me speaks volumes about their character and their motives. They behave recklessly and totally irresponsibly and endanger our country for the sake of self promotion and political grand standing.

To take these kinds of actions in hopes of gaining political power, the best interests of the United States, it's citizens, and it's fighting men and women be damned, is in my humble opinion at best reprehensible and at worst treasonous.

[stepping off of his soap box your humble author now returns to his normal, more introspective life]

you are forgiven

you cheat - i forgive
you leave - i forgive
you take - i forgive
you accuse - i forgive
you devalue - i forgive
you wound - i forgive
you devastate - i forgive
you aggrieve - i forgive

for all of the anguish you have caused me
for all of the things of value that you have taken from me
for robbing me of time spent with those i love most
for breaking my heart
for crushing my soul
for your unfaithfulness
for breaking our Holy bonds

you are forgiven

Why Blog

As I sit here and stare at this crisp, clean white space before, me a question crosses my mind. What do I want to blog about today? Or better yet, why bother to blog at all? Why take the time to fill this empty space with whatever comes pouring out of my psyche? Does the world really need one more person offering their opinions?

Opinions ...

Someone once said that opinions are like bowel movements. We all have them, but who really wants to hear about any one else’s! Someone else said that opinions are like arm pits (cleaned up version) everybody has them and most of the time they stink! Maybe opinions are more like the photos we carry in our wallets, we are all proud of them, some people will politely indulge us while we share them, but few people are genuinely interested in any one else's.

As usual, I tend to take a different tack. I consider it very closed minded and intellectually stagnating to not consider all of the different angles pertaining to any particular issue. Granted, in today’s highly polarized, highly partisan, political climate it is hard to care about or to give heed to any of the shrill voices vying for my attention. In my personal life, every acquaintance seems to know exactly how I should conduct my everyday business. In fact, it is extremely difficult to exist and not be constantly bombarded by a plethora of unsolicited opinions. It is enough to tempt me to shut it all out sometimes, and yet, I do still value, and often indeed benefit from the advice of others.

The thing is that not all opinions deserve to be given equal weight. There are a handful of people whose opinions I very much value. To use a current buzz word, to me they have gravitas. There are other people whose advice is about as valuable as yesterday’s coffee grinds. The trick is in deciding who to and who not to listen to.

But, back to the original question, why do we blog? Why do we feel so compelled to constantly offer our opinions? Perhaps it stems from the universal need in each of us to be heard and to be understood; not even to necessarily be agreed with, but to at least know that our opinion is heard and considered by someone somewhere; a cry for the simple acknowledgement of our existence and our intrinsic worth. I am. I have value. Hear me. Acknowledge me.

Perhaps the blog is a better way of sharing our thoughts. We can feel good about writing out our feelings and benefit from the catharsis of the writing process and yet not force anyone into one of those uncomfortable, unwanted discussions. Perhaps if more people engaged in this outlet, less people would feel compelled to corner others at the grocery store and subject them to their overly enthusiastic, meandering rants. Hmmm ... better living through blogging!

My own blogging has evolved in the few short months that I have been at it. It started as simply a way to vent, but as soon as I became aware that a few people actually read my posts something changed. Now I feel a duty, an obligation of sorts, to actually have something to say that is worth the time that people take to read it.

As I opine, I find that the times when I am most unguarded and transparent are the very times that I seem to tap into the universal feelings that we all share and seldom express. Once I tackle a difficult subject it tends to lose it's power of intimidation over me. There are things that we all feel and think, that are hard to admit to or give voice to, but that desperately need to be acknowledged.

So, to fellow bloggers out there I say, "God's speed to you". Get out your dictionary and thesaurus, face your demons and inner angst, write from the heart, use your spell checker, ALWAYS PROOFREAD before you post, and don't be afraid to tackle difficult subjects. The things that you are most afraid to write about are the very things that will resonate the most and have the greatest impact on your readers.

To use a buzz phrase - that’s my take on it. What’s your opinion?

The Frolicking Calf Lesson

I have been asking God lately to teach me. A few days ago, He brought a lesson to me from a very unexpected source.

I was driving along Highway 90, as I often do, because a big part of my job is driving up and down that highway. I was hauling something or other to someplace or other.

Besides there being almost endless cane fields, there are also a fair number of pastures along the way. Grazing in one such pasture were numerous cattle. Among them were several calves, probably a month or two old. I don't really know their age, I am no rancher. No one will seek me out to consult with me when preparing next year's Farmer's Almanac. This is strictly a guess based on my not having noticed them there a month or so ago. Suffice it to say they were old enough to have just mastered the whole quadrupedal locomotion thing.

One in particular had mastered it enough that he, or she, as the case may be – here again, I am no expert, and, even if I was, I don't know that I could have differentiated them from the highway at seventy miles per hour any way, and even if I could, it really makes no difference to this lesson, but, as is my custom, I digress – was trotting playfully about the lush, green field. All of the other cattle, old and young alike, were serenely grazing, as cattle usually do, but this particular calf was frolicking, chasing butterflies and birds and literally kicking up her, or his, heels, or, more precisely, hooves.

Honestly, the first thought that crossed my mind was - "poor little calf". If he, or she, only knew the truth. This little calf is destined to never know life outside of a fence. He, or she, will never know freedom. He, or she, will die at the prime of his, or her, life so that I can have something to throw on the pit some weekend in the future. What a wretched existence. What a bleak future to look forward to, if livestock could indeed contemplate the future.

Surely he, or she, would be behaving totally differently if he, or she, understood his, or her, situation.

As I pondered this poor senseless beast and the blessing of my own sentience, I felt pretty smug. I think, therefore I am. My superior intellect allows me to comprehend the world around me, and understand my lot in life. It allows me to fully grasp the vanity of my days here on this planet.

And yet, there was this dull beast frolicking about, and there I was working and wondering when I would be able to afford a vacation. For a moment I felt a definite twinge of jealousy – of this dull beast.

Then I thought, what if that calf could reason? Would the knowledge of his, or her, actual circumstance steal that pleasurable moment from him, or her? Would the knowledge of all that is wrong with his, or her, world prevent him, or her, from being "in the moment"? Is ignorance bliss? Does, as Solomon said, with much knowledge come much sorrow?

Then it hit me, finally – a moment of clarity and lucidity. It doesn't matter. Whether all is right with my world or the world in general, or whether my world or the world in general is going to hell in a hand-basket (whatever that means), each moment of beauty we can squeeze out of this existence is to be enjoyed and treasured. Whether the world ends tomorrow or I live to be a hundred, it comes down to how I live each moment I am granted.

So, is it better live in blissful ignorance or as a learned, jaded cynic? Perhaps a wisdom beyond mere knowledge teaches us that even in the worst of circumstances, there are always opportunities to stop and enjoy a simple pleasure.

Go(o)d Things This Week

I have had a lot of negative things to write about lately. So much so, that I feel I should take a little time to recount a few of the good things. Hopefully I came to this realization before those who care about me put me on a suicide watch or people in general stop reading because they find it too depressing. Yes, bad things have been happening to me. No, I have not lost my faith or my peace or my joy.

So, as bad as the last couple of weeks have been, here are a few of the better moments.

I finally got to spend some time with my daughter. She has been running around like crazy and I hardly saw her this summer, but this weekend we got to sort of reconnect. That was a blessing.

I saw a great movie this week.

I spoke to at least five different people this week who made me feel loved and/or made me smile.

I didn't lose my favorite, ever so hip, reading glasses this week (even though I gave it a good try).

I realized that being used by God feels better than sex.

I realized that having a good reputation is better than having a big screen TV.

I realized that having faith, joy and peace is better than having perfect health.

A friend of mine fixed my car for less than half of what having it repaired at the dealership would have cost me.

God sent several people along to remind me that I am not worthless, but that I have great value to Him and to them.

It looks like I will get over this sinus infection without a doctor visit and a course of antibiotics.

Bottom line: even though in a lot of ways I have felt cursed, in some of the most important ways, I have indeed been blessed. In the midst of our most difficult times, God sends us moments of grace - little nods and winks to remind us that He loves us and has not abandoned us.

Is Everything Going To Be OK?

Once again it's time to say goodbye and release my children from their every-other-weekend visitation. Now comes the part where I sit and ponder my aloneness. Tonight it is a very tangible thing. Earlier I saw a promo for a show about a guy who is forty-five and single. He was wondering whether his future was one of dying alone. Later, I watched another show where, at the end, the main character stood pensively in the midst of a crowd as the vocalist on the soundtrack questioned, "am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life?"

These circumstances conspired against me. Soon I found myself asking God questions. "Will I ever find a soul mate or will I die alone?" "Will I ever know what it's like to not struggle financially?" "Will I ever 'feel' blessed again?"

God was strangely, worrisomely, silent.

I believe that there is a God. I believe that He loves me. I believe that in an instant things can change - and change dramatically. And yet, this seeming curse drags on. Five years now I have waited, for the most part, patiently. "Word of Faith" preachers say that all I have to do is confess and believe and it will happen, and that these unchanging circumstances are just the result of my lack of faith. The truth is that there is no guarantee.

In my Bible I find accounts of the lives of Godly men like John and Paul who were men of much greater faith than I, and probably much purer in thought and in deed than I, and yet they were exiled and martyred. I also find the account of Job who was rewarded with double what he had before his trials. I find scripture that says that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. The truth is that there is no guarantee.

People observe as I go through all of these trials. People tell me how much they resect the way I have handled myself through the divorce and the job upheaval and the health issues. People often tell me that after all of this, God must really have something good in store for me. The truth is that there is no guarantee.

Today my pastor preached about the New Heaven and the New Earth. What if I never taste of my reward while here on this Earth? What if I never see my reward until my death or His return? Am I okay with that? Do I have some sense of entitlement? Do I somehow feel that I am owed something while I am here? Is that what faith is?

I tend to think that faith is demonstrated more when things stay bad for a long time and a person remains faithful, than when circumstances turn around quickly. To my way of thinking, it takes much more faith to go through a ten year trial than a ten day trial. But, what if it's a rest-of-your-life trial? Is that the ultimate proving of faith, or the proof of a lack of faith?

I would love to say that everything will be OK - and soon! I would love the logic to go like this: God loves me, and God is powerful, therefore He will make everything OK - and soon! But even though God restored Job, he was given no such neat wrap up. All he was given was that God is God, and His perspective is vastly different and higher than ours.

When we cannot fathom His plans, we have to take Him on blind trust - the simple trust that He does have a plan and that it is good. Trust. Is that not the very essence of faith?

in beauteous synchronicity

i want to know you
to know and be known in-toto
and to find in that knowledge a kinship begotten of revealed similitude and compliment

i want to be near you
present in body and spirit
truly naked, feeling no shame, in total freedom and assurance

i want to linger in your presence
to abide in that precious, fleeting moment that transcends all that is temporal
and bask in the rapturous joy of intimate, timeless communion

i want to hold you
so close that nothing could conceive of coming between us
and feel our hearts beating in beauteous synchronicity

tangible ethereal blessings

my thoughts travel toward you at the speed of light

unimpeded by wind, rain, forest or mountain

stretching over the distance effortlessly

gliding on nothing but the force of my will

they bring you hopes of well being

wishes of joy and thoughts of God's peace

did you feel them

did you see them

did you hear them

no

are these ethereal blessings of any value

i offer something a bit more tangible

bits and bytes of binary code

borne on currents of electrons

meaningless save for the intent behind them

less concrete than putting ink to paper

voices across air and wire are a poor substitute

for a smile, a laugh, an embrace

physical presence can bring tactile pleasures

but fulfillment is spirit touching spirit

Perhaps tangible things are not so real and lasting as we imagine and that which we call ethereal is the greater reality and eternal. Perhaps the greatest of all that we do and create is only a shadow of what really is – a chasing of the wind – a child with a toddler's vocabulary trying to describe the Grand Canyon to a blind man – an imperfect physical attempt at expressing the unfathomable, spiritual things that we are incapable of understanding, much less explaining or creating.

Changing The World Through Art?

A Christian Framework For Creativity

Far be it from me to be the heartless old salt who steals the innocence from all of the wide eyed idealists out there, (funny, but you know there's always a but after a statement like that) but I'm afraid I have some bad news for all you budding artistic types who envision your art changing the world. Of course I am confidant that most of you are intelligent enough that after several years of banging your collective head against the stone wall of human nature you will figure it out for yourselves. But, here I offer you a shortcut to the wisdom it took me years to acquire and etch into my cavernous cranial cavity.

The weaker among you should look away now. For the stouthearted among us, here is the ugly truth.

It is a great fantasy to dream that we will make that ultimate irresistible argument, or that we will produce that work of art so profound that people will gaze upon it, or read it, or listen to it, whichever the case may be, and be forced to acknowledge that there is a God and that His nature is as revealed to us in Holy writ. But, that is all it is – fantasy and dreams.

It may be unrealistic to think that our artistic creations will ever change even one person's heart and mind. Correct me if I'm wrong, but examples of a piece of art causing a conversion or directly impacting the culture at large are pretty rare. “Uncle Tom's Cabin” comes to mind. But, other than the once in a generation anomaly, art pretty much is preaching to the choir. I believe it is a false hope to think that because my creativity reaches a certain level that people will all of the sudden 'see the light'.

I see two ways that lives are actually changed. In fact there is only one way, through the work of the Holy Spirit, but He usually uses one of two means, or more likely, a combination of the two - the preaching of the Word of God and the observation of a well lived Christian life.

Can God use our artistry to nudge, cultivate, water, nourish and so forth? Absolutely. Should our art reflect the true nature of God and His creation? Absolutely. Can our art be salt and light and provide an alternative to the endless onslaught of Godless art. Absolutely. Can the collective body of our God honoring art help foster a more Godly perspective in this world's collective consciousness? Perhaps. At least that is a more reasonable expectation than instant conversion or cultural shift because of a single piece of art.

I do not propagate these harsh truths to discourage any one from pursuing their artistic passion. On the contrary, I am more excited than ever about what the future holds for me regarding my creativity. Unfettered from the codependent need to save anyone or to change the world, I have the freedom to simply follow my God given creative urges wherever He leads me and leave the job of changing people to their Creator.

Enjoy your creativity. Revel in it. Treasure it as the gift of God that it is. Do it as unto The Lord. Do it with all of your heart, mind and strength, but keep it in proper perspective.

As for me, I do not create with the thought of nor the purpose of impacting anyone. I create because I am a creation of a creative being who created me in His creative image. I am compelled to create because it is in my nature. I am compelled to create Godly art because I have chosen to allow His nature to rule my nature. And, if that is indeed the case, then hopefully my creative expression will honor Him and bear good fruit.

Out Of My Anguish I Speak

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. Out of our best and worst experiences are born our most honest expressions - art that moves others to think and to feel. And, today it is anguish that stirs my creative juices. So, as the Psalmists of old, I offer this lament.

I love you as much as it is possible for me to love. I try to be everything that a husband/father/friend (pick whichever applies) should be. What have I gotten in return but constant sorrow. Pain beyond my ability to feel. A crushed and broken spirit.

Loss after loss after loss. One by one, those I love turn their backs on me. Is there something wrong with me? Am I that unloveable? Is it my lot in life to eventually die unloved and alone? Will You, oh Lord, also eventually turn your countenance from me? Am I one of the ignoble vessels You created? Bound for no glory and no special purpose? To be tossed aside and broken on the stony ground after some brief, mundane use?

(At this point the tiny vessel rises up and demands some explanation from the potter. The potter looks up from his work briefly, a slightly amused look on his face, then returns to his work)

I have no more strength. No more tears left to cry. I give up. I surrender.

And that is where He comes to meet me. After all of my anger and hurt are finally poured out and spent, I turn my eyes up toward Heaven and surrender. I lean on my staff and worship. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of The Lord.

(Now the potter once again turns his attention to the tiny vessel and carefully inscribes his mark on the bottom of it. He purses his lips and a faint grin of satisfaction is clearly visible on his face as he considers his creation and thinks about all the work that he has put into it ... and all of the work yet to be done.)

Oh God! - More Thoughts

Quote from a Starbucks cup:

"Why in moments of crisis do we ask God for strength and help? As cognitive beings, why would we ask something that may well be a figment of our imaginations for guidance? Why not search inside ourselves for the power to overcome? After all, we are strong enough to cause most of the catastrophes we need to endure."

* Caution, this one may be rated PG 13 *

In my experience there are two situations in which people are most likely to cry out "Oh God".

When faced with sudden shock, especially if it entails perceived danger to ourselves or others we may cry out – Oh God!

When at the height of sensual pleasure, such as the first glimpse of a breathtaking scene, or climbing into a comfortable bed after a hard days work, or especially at the climactic peak of sexual pleasure, we may cry out – Oh God!

I believe that at both of these times our human vocabulary fails us miserably. At these times we have no words to adequately express what we feel. In that brief moment of extreme anguish or ecstasy all that we can consciously think and feel and know is instantaneously stripped away. In that instant there is no time nor desire to rationalize, nor recall what should be done or said. Pure instinct takes over. All of life is broken down and the primal cry of our heart comes forth – the cry of man for his creator – so basic, so pure, so inescapable.

Sure people go through life saying things that they are conditioned to say. And, many times per day people may say trite things like "oh my God, did you see that?", never intending to actually invoke the name of any particular supreme deity. Just look at your kids IMs sometimes. How many times do you see omg (or omfg – don't get me started on that one). But, as I said earlier, there are times, horrifying or orgasmic, in the life of even the most jaded of us, where everything breaks down, like matter and time in the singularity of a black hole, and the guttural gasp of our spirit is heard. Spirit cries out to Spirit – Oh God – and He is always ready to answer. But, as quickly as the instant passes, we go back to our banal, daily existence and back to ignoring that which would fulfill us most.

The real question is not, why do we cry out to God in such extreme times. The real question is why do we ignore Him the rest of the time?

Oh God! - First Thoughts

Quote from a Starbucks cup:

"Why in moments of crisis do we ask God for strength and help? As cognitive beings, why would we ask something that may well be a figment of our imaginations for guidance? Why not search inside ourselves for the power to overcome? After all, we are strong enough to cause most of the catastrophes we need to endure."

I have already heard some of my Christian brothers and sisters calling for a boycott of Starbucks. My feelings on that are mixed. If I truly believed this to be a Starbucks corporate attack on God, I would probably stop going there. But, if it is indeed not necessarily the opinion of Starbucks, as the disclaimer indicates, and it is an honest question from a seeker, then why not engage in that conversation? Why not, as the Bible says, be always ready to answer any man who asks? Why not be engaged in day to day life and seek out those kinds of conversations as opportunities to be salt and light?

Have we as Christians become too isolationist? Have we become too intellectually lazy to join the battle and engage in the debate? Are too many of us Christians just not sure enough of what we believe or why we believe it? Are we too timid to enter the fray?

If I stopped going every place where some person might question the existence of God, I would have to join a monastery. Then I would even have to avoid my own thought life. I have been a believer for as long as I can remember. But, even so, there are still occasions when I question God's love or God's justice or even God's very existence. Hello? Any one else out there want to 'fess up?

Maybe we avoid those conversations because they bring out our own hidden doubts. That speaks to our condition, not to God's ability to defend Himself. He is more than able to stand up to our scrutiny.

If I stop frequenting Starbucks it will be because other places have coffee that I like just as well or better, or because I find their beverages overpriced, or because of their silly size naming scheme (maybe it's a tad petty, but I just refuse to play their little game – small is small – tall is tall - small is not tall – and don't get me started on that pretentious Venti business). As it now stands, I will probably frequent their establishment about as often as before, partly because I like the ambiance there and partly just hoping for the opportunity to have that conversation with an honest seeker.

Choice of Perspective

Mission accomplished God! Another beautifully executed sunset in the books. History. I was privileged to be able to witness it. My testimony regarding said sunset – it was GLORIOUS.

Yet, as I walked along the beach, my eyes were constantly drawn away from the grandeur of Sol's grand exit and toward the refuse and rubble strewn across the not quite white, yet not quite dingy, sand. On the one hand, the beautiful, moment by moment changing, fiery red to orange to vivid pink to subtle pastel purple hues of sunset. On the other hand, discarded beer bottles, old shoes, and cigarette butts. On the one hand, a flock of small sea birds frolicking in the surf. On the other hand, an endless variety of trash.

So many thoughts fill my mind. My brain throbs and strains to organize ruminations branching out in a dozen different directions. So many clichés I could offer up now. So many lessons can be learned from simple observations if we truly perceive the world around us.

For instance, I had to wonder, why, in the midst of all this sublime wonderment, were my eyes constantly being drawn away from the beckoning beauty and towards the filth? What is it within me that fought against my simply enjoying the all encompassing beauty?

Is this a bad thing? Is there some uncleaness within me that is drawn to the filth around me? Have I lost my appreciation for simple everyday wonders? Have I become jaded and cynical? Do I only look for the bad in the things around me? Or, is this a good thing? Is it my social conscience, pricked by this abuse of God's creation, refusing to look any longer through rose colored glasses at my defiled surroundings?

One of my first instincts was to rehash the often taught look-for-the-good-in-all-things lesson. You know, look at the bright side, and all that. That is certainly true, and applicable here, but I wanted to go just a little deeper, if your indulgence and my mental capacity will permit.

Life is all about choices. I can choose to appreciate or choose to ignore the good and the beautiful. I can choose to perceive or choose to ignore the evil and the squaller. Here again, as in most things, I believe that balance is critical. As the Bible says, there is a time for everything under the sun (or sunset).

There is a time to lament injustices, uncover hidden atrocities, and expose festering, hidden (literal and figurative) refuse. In other words, there are times we need to dwell on the negative. How else can we effect change, except by bringing the wrong into our collective consciousness first? Facing hard truths does not make you a negative person or a pessimist.

But, there are certainly times when we must, for sanity's sake, tune out the filth and simply behold God's handiwork. To not do so is to rob ourselves of life's greatest, God given pleasures, of which we are all entitled to liberally partake. To stop and look at only the good for a while does not mean we are shallow. It does not make us Forest Gump or Rebecca of Sunny Brook Farm.

Another day and time I could report to you how dirty this spot is and how much of a shame it is for people to litter here. Indeed, it is, and I may well rant about that issue yet, but not now. My commentary on societal ills can wait. Right now I need to stop and appreciate nature's beauty and let it's bounty nourish my parched soul. On this perfect, wind swept evening, that beauty is here in abundance, and I choose to quiet myself and drink it in.

Loneliness vs Black Berry Cobler

I guess I'll start by just getting this off of my chest – lately I have been lonely.

It's not that I don't have friends. I have amazing friends. It's not that I feel like no one loves me. I know for a fact that many people do.

Maybe it's because my children are growing up and don't keep in touch like they used to. Maybe it's because I haven't yet found that soul and spirit level companion that I so desire. Maybe it's that I haven't put as much time and energy into my relationship with God as I should. Maybe it's a bit of each of those ...

Sometimes I think that I may be relationally challenged. I always over think every aspect of every current, past and potential relationship. I alternate between feelings of superiority and feelings of utter inferiority. That which I long for the most is the very thing that I fear the most. I am both desirous of and fearful of intimacy. Wanting to be close to someone and yet seemingly unable to find someone to share my innermost being with.

A certain amount of solitude is good for a man. Sometimes I need some alone time to nourish my soul and spirit. When I was young(er) I used to joke that I would make a good hermit. No one to argue with. No one to nag me. No one to try to make me do things their way. No one who's feelings I might hurt if I say the wrong thing, or don't quite say the right thing, or I am silent too long, or not silent enough to listen to them. No one to hurt my feelings or shatter my delicate, man ego.

But, then again ... no one to encourage me when I feel down. No one for me to comfort when they feel down. No one to smile at or laugh with. No one to be intimate with. No hand to hold. No lips to kiss. No one to bounce ideas off of.

I have done the cost-to-benefit-ratio analysis on that one a number of times and come up with totally different answers at different times in my life.

Another thought crosses my mind. I have been alone and felt lonely. I have been married and felt lonely. The latter was far, far worse than the former. To dwell in the same house with someone, to see them and hear them and touch them and even be physically intimate with them, and feel no real soul level, spiritual connection is ... is ... I cannot find the right words ... intensely frustrating.

Ultimately, being alone and lonely is not the worst thing in the world. It is also something that I have some control over. I can choose to, as they say, "put myself out there". I can choose to take the initiative and be more of a friend to my friends. I can choose to strike up a conversation with any one at any time. I don't have to let my brain talk me out of things by bringing up ridiculous scenarios. I am too good for them. I am not good enough for them. What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them? I'm too fat. They're too fat. I'm too skinny. They're too skinny. What if I have bad breath or something nasty looking stuck between my teeth, or my fly is open? (OK those are legitimate questions, you should probably check those things before any social encounter, but the rest of that was just crazy talk)

The worst thing in the world is not loneliness, it is fear. What could be worse than letting fear paralyze you into inaction? Rejection? I think not. If some reject you, who cares? Jesus is perfect, and look at how many reject Him. Someone's rejection of you says nothing about your worth. It only speaks to their inability to discern the specialness and the uniqueness that resides in each of us. There are people out there who get it. We may be in the minority, but we are here.

Think of it like picking black berries. You may get a few scratches and maybe even an ant bite or two, and you 'll probably need to scrape off your shoes before you get back in the truck, but in the end you will reap a tasty treasure and end up with a purple stained grin of satisfaction on your sun burnt face! In other words, it will be worth the effort, even if there are a few set backs and you experience some discomfort along the way.

My Sin - Your SIN

There are two types of sin in this world. Any one reading this who is a Roman Catholic would say "of course there are two types of sin, mortal sins and venial sins". I don't know about that, I've never been Roman Catholic, and I'm not much on splitting theological hairs. None the less, in my world there are two types of sin, my sins and your SINS.

You see, my sins are cute and cuddly. No big deal really. Sure they are a nuisance occasionally, but God understands. He winks at them and says "come on, you know we need to do something about this, right? Ya knuckle head". Then He sighs and rolls His eyes at me, musses my hair and grins that bemused, knowing, Ward Cleaver, 1970's-TV-sitcom-father grin. Then He goes about His fatherly duties (reading the paper and and commenting on how good dinner smells) confidant that I have learned my lesson.

Then there are your sins. Ugly, hideous, hellish atrocities that, by all rights, should bring down God's immediate wrath. Seriously, there should be a big, smoldering crater where you now stand. How dare you escape unscathed. You should be scathed ... or smote ... or something. In the Old Testament, you probably would have been stoned, or cut off from your people, or at least struck with leprosy or blindness or halitosis, or some other really nasty malady.

And yet, there you stand, apparently unmolested. What was God thinking? Did He let you off on some technicality? Was there a clerical error? Did you put one over on Him? Did His all seeing eye blink?

I can't quite wrap my mind around this one. My understanding of the coexistence of God's justice and God's mercy must not be quite perfect yet. I would love to help you see more clearly just how horrible your sins are, but I seemed to have misplaced my spectacles.

And Now For Something Completely Different -or- White Line Fever

Wow, what a change. I have left the white collar world of retailing for (in the words of Monty Python) "something completely different".

As I glided down Highway 23, heading toward Boothville, the sun was shining, the temperature was about seventy degrees, the humidity was around fifty percent, and the diesel engine was purring quite nicely. Then, suddenly, it hit me - "white-line-fever". It felt great to be out on the open road.

I have had ex drivers tell me how much they miss the "hotshot" lifestyle. Now I understand it. There is definitely something addictive about the freedom of the road.

The South Louisiana scenery has a certain understated beauty that I hadn't noticed in quite some time. The flatness of the terrain matches the flatness of the subtly varied Cajun accents. Each slightly different, depending on which bayou you follow, as it winds it's way down to the Gulf of Mexico. As the first day of spring unfolded, the water was a deep, rich blue, a perfect counterpoint to the still mostly light brown marsh grass, accented with the occasional sprig of bright, Eastery green just beginning to tentatively emerge.

The pelicans and egrets seemed to revel and frolic, and rejoice the the Earth's annual renewal. Who could blame them. While I could never match their revelry and frolicking, my heart was certainly rejoicing.

As I pondered this, I began to really miss the fluorescent world in which I had worked for most of my adult life. I began to miss the pressure of the sales floor I had so enjoyed while attempting to sell automobiles last year. I miss these things as much as I miss ... uhhh ... puberty, Junior High School, the feeling of inferiority my ex-wife always managed to evoke within me, my tonsils, nineteen eighties hair styles (etc., etc., you get the picture) ...

Change is good. I figure the more varied and diverse experiences we have in this life, the deeper and more well rounded a person we will become. I feel more alive now than I have in quite some time.

Sure, I know I'll be blogging at some point, whining about the traffic, and stupid drivers, and the potholes, but for now – it's all good.

Peace in the Process and Joy in the Journey

These hard times should not have taken me by surprise. I had actually been warned. Because of my spiritual heritage, I actually knew what to expect. And yet, when it happened, it still shocked me.

I have been putting two and two together and coming up with everything but four. Three point eight. Four point one. Close, but not quite. Today, as I was walking the track, some thoughts began to coalesce. A rare moment of lucidity overtook me and for a moment everything made sense.

A few months back, I publicly acknowledged a call to ministry on my life. Looking back, I realize that is when everything fell apart. Since then, I have had almost every opportunity to minister taken away from me by various circumstances – sickness, work, etc..

I have also struggled in every area of my life. I have struggled financially – I never have any money. I have struggled with personal holiness – if you could see and hear the thoughts that run through my mind you would be shocked and I would be very ashamed and embarrassed. I have struggled with my health – feeling functional is about the best I can hope for, I never actually feel "good". I have struggled with my faith – doubt, fear and depression are always right beside me, probing my defenses for an opening. I have struggled in my relationships – my relationships to other people and my relationship to God.

I guess I thought that the realization of my calling would bring the beginning of greater ministry. What it actually has been, is the beginning of more intense preparation. It seems that all of the little imperfections that I am okay with – are not okay with God. All of the things that I have held on to are being revealed to me for what they really are – monsters that can easily overtake and control me and steal my joy and my peace and my usefulness to God and my fellow man.

Yes, when you make a decision to be more useful to God, Satan will certainly attack you. But, God is ultimately in control. Satan's attacks are a means to God's ends. What Satan would use to destroy you, God uses to teach you and mold you, and work all of the dross and all of the crap out of your life. Hmmm, I believe there is a scripture to that effect.

Moses, David, Joseph and many other people we think of as saints and almost super human, were called at a young age. After that call came many dark years of training. Moses left behind his comfortable life as a ruler in Egypt, to wander in the wilderness. David lived for years as a hunted man, on the run from King Saul. Joseph was sold into slavery, then falsely accused and wrongly imprisoned. Perhaps that is the price to be payed. Perhaps tribulation is the currency that purchases greatness.

Think about it. What great lessons have you learned from doing something easy, while everything was going well? Were not your greatest lessons learned in the process of recovering from making a huge mistake or recovering from a heart wrenching setback, or overcoming an "impossible" obstacle?

As much as I say things in my life don't make any sense, I guess they really do. The secret must be in taking the time and making the effort to gain some perspective, and trusting that someone with an infinitely higher perspective is in control of it all.

Knowing that there is a plan, and that God is in control, and that He is using every bad thing to bring about good in us, makes it all a lot more bearable. It is not just pointless suffering. We don't just wait around and endure until the final victory. Peace and joy can be found here and now, in the middle of our struggles, as we daily die and daily overcome.

As I have said to friends of mine from time to time, "I don't want to wait until everything is okay, for me to be okay. I want to find peace in the process and joy in the journey."

sunrise communion

the first hint of color stretches across the horizon

subtle shades dance, tease, and tantalize the senses

soon a pastel palette paints before me ... a panorama

my soul basks in the glory of the sunrise

something awakens within me, yearning to commune with it's Maker

and for a moment i know Peace

I'm Okay With That - Really

Some milestones are to be applauded, indeed celebrated. Your eighteenth birthday. Your engagement or wedding. Birthdays that end in a zero and are less than thirty or above sixty.

Some milestones are to be avoided. Birthdays that end in a zero that are more than twenty, but less than seventy. How many people do you know who will celebrate their twenty-ninth birthday this year ... again?

Some milestones are to be mourned.

Today I crossed a sobering threshold. Most people would write it off as 'no big deal'. But, to continue my well established motif of making a 'big deal' out of various trivialities and in the spirit of over thinking every speck of minutia in my life, I now present the latest challenge to my self esteem and peace of mind.

This year I will turn forty-five years old. My 'baby' will turn sixteen. A lesser man might be tempted to stress over things like this, but not me, I am a rock (hmmm, a rock ... old as dirt and age can be determined by carbon dating). I mean, forget the fact the any pro athlete over forty is considered a doddering old fool in need of a good friend to tell him it's high time to hang it up before he embarrasses himself or has his frail body irreparably damaged by some young turk.

Even in normal life, forty-five is fairly old. Yes, I know, forty is the new thirty, but still, having twenty-somethings call me Mr. Dufrene kind of brings some perspective to it. Even though I know it is said with the best of intentions and meant as a sign of respect, sometimes it still rubs me the wrong way.

I'll be with a group of yutes carrying on a conversation about what is the hot new music and who are the hot new bands. Feeling a sense of belonging and comradery. Then without warning, BAM, there it is. Like ice water poured down the front of the old trousers. "See ya later Mr. Todd." Ouch.

When did I stop being a youth and become Mr. Todd? I still feel like a youth. Well, most of the time. At least when the arthritis isn't acting up.

So, what brought on all of this fuss? Is it my fast approaching birthday? Is it the fact that my older children are old enough to make me a grandfather? Is it the abundance of gray hairs gradually taking over my gotee? Is it the creaking of the joints on cold mornings? What, oh what, could have insighted this age-conscious self flagellation?

I bought my very first pair of reading glasses today.

There I said it. I feel better for having faced it and gotten it off of my chest. For what it's worth, they are quite stylish. Almost hip, if you ignore the fact that they are ... well ... reading glasses. But, they are reading glasses, and I'm okay with that.

Really.

I Hate Today - February 14, 2007

I don't like to use the word hate. There are very few things that I actually hate. There are no people that I hate. There are a few days that I hate. I hate December 7, 1941. I hate September 11, 2001. I hate that agonizing day in mid 2002 that I was forced to face the fact that I had been cheated on.

I hate today - February 14, 2007.

In a world devoid of unfaithfulness, where vows were kept and marriage was sacred, this would be my twentieth wedding anniversary. I would be in my house, surrounded by my wife and my children, celebrating love. Instead I find myself grieving a horrible loss. Another man is in my ex-house with my ex-wife and my children. I scarcely know how to express my pain. I am sure that at some point today my grief will find some release and my tears will flow.

No, this is a world well acquainted with deceit, duplicity, and conditional 'love'. A man's word is no longer his bond. Vows are made and contracts are signed with no hint of permanence implied. There is always a built in way out. An escape clause.

But, there is the rub. There are very few 'outs' in the marriage covenant. There is a world of difference between the traditional covenant and the modern contract. Most marriage ceremonies contain language to the effect of: for better or for worse; for richer or for poorer; in sickness or in health; till death do us part.

How did we get to the point where half of all couples who make this solemn pledge end up divorced? How did we get so self absorbed that "I don't feel like I love you any more" is reason enough to break our vow. This all important vow, agreed to by choice of free will, in a ceremony presided over by a clergyman or governmental official, attended by family and loved ones, vowed publicly before God and man, is somehow taken lightly and easily broken. Why?

I have no answers today, only questions. What exactly are people celebrating on this Valentine's Day? Love? Romance? Eroticism? The euphoric feeling of being 'in love'? How many of these couples will celebrate this day next year together? How many will celebrate today with their future exes? How many people will utter a conditional 'I love you' that is subject to change when they are no longer made happy by their current significant other? Do we, as a society, even know what love is?

Don't get me wrong. I have not grown completely cynical. I do believe that true love exists. It just seems to be, unfortunately, rare. I have found it in God, who is Love. I have experienced it in some family members and friends. I have at times, I think, observed it in myself. And, yes, I do still hope to one day find this elusive, altruistic, unfailing, unconditional love in marriage. I hope for that with all of my broken, cynical, Valentine's Day hating heart.

Todd's Blog vs The Backhoe

Smart Guy: 'ey! w'sup?

Dumb Guy: Nut'un'. Jus' diggin' a hole to get some dirt ta fill in this other hole that I made gettin' dirt to fill in this other hole ...

Smart Guy: OK. OK. But what about the hole you're ... oh never mind ... I've got to go get on MySpace and read Todd's blog.

Dumb Guy: Tawd's blawg?

Smart Guy: His on-line journal, his web log, we--blog, Blog for short. Get it?

Dumb Guy: You tawk funnee.

Smart Guy: Never mind – sometimes he uses big words.

Dumb Guy: Shewwwt, I was hoping it was a concise literary record of his contemplation of every day existentialism coupled occasionally with poignant vignettes and humorous asides chronicled in an artsy, yet accessible, style of prose and free form poetry.

Smart Guy: I ... uhhhh ... you .... uhhh ...

Dumb Guy: Shewwwwt, you know some of that "poetry" don't even riiiime.

Smart Guy: What do you know about poetry?

Dumb Guy: I'm writin' a poem 'bout ma shuuvel.

Smart Guy: So, how's that going?

Dumb Guy: What riiiimes with shuuvel?


Join in next time to hear Dumb Guy say:

Ha' cuuum Tawd's on your space? Why ain't he on his own space? Hmmm ... buuvel ... cuuvel ... duuvel ... fuuvel ...

The drone of Dumb Guy's own voice lulls him into a nap. He sleeps the sweet sleep of the disaffected. He dreams of being home in his bed sleeping and awakens with rhyming words for not only shovel, but also orange and a whole list of other words long thought unrhymable. Unfortunately, before he can share them with the world, he gets run over by a backhoe. Go figure.

The moral: if you're home reading Todd's blog you are less likely to get run over by a backhoe.

Todd Dufrene Unique Human

One of my deepest fears is my fear of being average. Not that there is anything at all wrong with being an 'Average Joe'. In fact, our similarities and averageness are the glue that hold us together. A commonality that says "welcome brother, you are part of the great fraternity of humanity". In fact, it is hard for us to relate to someone we perceive as vastly superior, or inferior, to ourselves. We tend to avoid them and label them as freakish. Such is the plight of the genius, or the idiot-savant, or the garden variety idiot. All equally alien. All equally abnormal. All equally outside of the parameters of what we can relate to.

I am no great thinker. I am not driven. I am not a superior athlete, businessman, or intellect. Neither am I a complete moron, quadriplegic, or sluggard. Much to my chagrin, I fall somewhere in the middle of that giant bell curve that defines averageness. Remarkable only in my exceptional mediocrity. Neither high enough up the scale to be proud nor low enough to be entertainingly and endearingly inept.

A friend of mine emailed me and indicated jokingly (I hope) that I would really benefit from a little therapy. In my reply, I found myself exaggerating my own craziness, for comedic effect, but also (to psychoanalyze myself for a moment) out of a need to be exceptional. Better to be crazy (exceptional) than sane (average). It's as if I could deal better with being on either extreme of the sanity scale – but not in the middle. Of course, saying I was extremely sane was out of the question, since no one would buy that, so I had to opt for the insane option (which holds more comedic promise anyway). If you can't go for the gold – go for the laugh, right?

Everyone wants to fit in. Everyone wants to be special. Most want some claim to fame, but to remain safely within the confines of normalcy. Of course there are exceptions. You will always meet the occasional rebel who revels in standing outside of the mainstream. But, even then, they usually feel the need to have a common bond with other rebels. There will be a baseline normalcy within any chosen niche.

The biker. The brain surgeon. The tattoo artist. The corporate executive. It's all relative. Most will end up in the middle of their own subgroup's scale. Of course a mediocre brain surgeon still, hopefully, has exceptional intelligence and dexterity as compared to the population at large. The biker may think himself quite a rebel. He may have the baddest bike and the coolest tats in town. Then he goes to Sturgis and realizes that his bike and his tats are, well, average within that group.

Of course the person who likes to blend in and longs to be accepted, has an equally hard task. We do have an underlying common humanity, but also an endless diversity of variations. Snowflakes. People. Each unique. Each individual. We do, at first glance, seem to be a homogeneous mass, but look closer at that ordinary looking person you see beside you. Their features are not exactly like anybody else's. The twists and turns of their life story would probably shock you. You truly cannot judge a book by it's cover. Who knows how many unassuming Clark Kents hide a Superman inside? Who knows how many apparent statuesque gods have feet of clay?

I guess the question becomes how to stand out and yet blend in. How to be exceptional and yet be acceptable. How to be neither a nameless, faceless drone nor a sideshow attraction. How to reconcile the great paradox I am: unique – human.

Oh, I do love – the blog

Oh brother.

I have made yet another addition to my ever increasing repertoire of annoying habits. Answering an email should be a relatively simple task. Read the email sent to you. Answer any questions posed therein. Throw in a few pleasantries and a question in return - to keep the conversation going. Simple enough right? NO, I make it into a term-paper-sized project – deep reflection, research, writing, correcting, spell checking, proof reading, correcting, proof reading, correction, ad nauseam ...

Apparently there is a creative urge that dwells within me that has not been given adequate voice. Hence, THE BLOG! Oh, I do love – the blog. Where else can you freely ramble and vent and feel like it may actually be read by and appreciated by anyone given to perusing the world wide web? What better excuse to stress over every subtle nuance of thought and language. What better drives us to engage in deep thought, to think critically, and to examine and reexamine our logic? What better impetus to make us consider proper punctuation?

If I write privately none of this really matters. But, since I will stress over it anyway, why not make it count? Somehow, the thought that someone, somewhere, at sometime, may actually read it makes all of the time and effort put into it seem ... I don't know ... more ... appropriate ... and less ... obsessive. After all, I am now writing for the benefit of all mankind. At least all of mankind with an internet connection who happen to stumble across my blog out in here the vast reaches of virtual space, a.k.a. the "blogosphere". Blogosphere. Oh, I do love geeky new words.

Of course, as of yet, I have no knowledge of anyone actually reading my ramblings. But, I press on undeterred – my optimism and enthusiasm undampened. For all of my obsessing over my writing, I am, surprisingly, not obsessed over whether my carefully crafted musings are ever read by anyone. The fun is merely in the act of crafting and obsessing - with or without good reason. And ... Oh, I do love crafting and obsessing.

what might have been

the news jolted my brain like a roundhouse kick upside my head
sapping my strength and evacuating the very oxygen from my lungs
your words, though not totally unexpected, still left me reeling

i walk away with a puzzled expression, shaking my head, mumbling under my breath, feeling a sense of bereavement

saddened at the sight of this bejeweled dream now stillborn, unrealized, wasted - an opportunity lost

but i refuse to dwell on the might-have-beens

pausing for a moment of sad remembrance i then fix a hopeful gaze futureward
tomorrow's bright sunrise will shine forth with a promise of new beginnings and new dreams imparted

my prayers are with you - fare thee well my sister, my friend