1 Year

 

One year ago today, Carol went home.  In the 28 years that I had known her, even in our time apart, there were very few days that went by when we didn’t talk.  So, it’s odd to think that a year has gone by without talking to her.  And it hurts.  A lot.  Yet, in those moments of grief, I try to think that she has run her race and doesn’t have to deal with any of the pains of life anymore.  So, I tell myself to not be so selfish as to wish that she were still here. 

This will be my last post about Carol, mainly for one reason alone.  She was not a fan at all of social media.  If you’ve followed me for a great length of time, you’d note that when we were married, my posts were mostly limited to sports or politics or business.  It was rare when I would post anything personal.  I kept the personal mostly private out of respect for her.  When she got sick, and I felt that prayers were needed, I asked her if I could share, and she was fine with that. 

But now, I know she wouldn’t want to be constantly featured online.  I’d love to share the slide presentation shown at her funeral and other pictures, but I know she wouldn’t appreciate it.  So, I’d like to take a moment to thank you for your prayers during her storm and my continued storm.  I’ll leave it with a few things that demonstrate her caring and love for me.

There were many years where she’d come up to me and, with a big smile on her face, tell me that she got my Christmas present. 

“Christmas present?” I exclaim, “it’s not even September.”

“Yes, but I wanted to get it for you now,” she’d answer. 

“You want to see it?” she’d ask.

“No.  You can give it to me on Christmas,” I’d answer.

“But I want to give it to you now.  I want you to see it,” she’d say.

She would be so excited to give me the present, and we’d go back and forth about whether that was going to happen.  Ultimately, she would wait until Christmas.  She would be so disappointed, but I knew that if she gave it to me, she would’ve gone out and bought me something else.  I hated to break her excitement, and as summer came to a close this year, I thought about those times often.

Last Thanksgiving was horrendous.  She had already decided to forego treatment, and she was getting weaker by the day, spending most days sleeping twenty hours.  I would do my best to keep it together whenever I was around her, and I’d step outside in those moments when I’d lose it.  I’d spend a few minutes outside crying and then pull myself together and go back to be with her.  Late in the afternoon on Thanksgiving, I’m sitting on a sofa not from her bed, feeling very much alone.  Thinking about how normally at that time I’d be sitting at a table with my family with Carol by my side.  We’d be eating, joking, laughing, and it would be a good day all the way around.  But now, Carol and I were alone in an empty room, she was too weak to stay awake and was showing that her passing was getting nearer.  In the quietness, I lost it.  I tried to keep quiet, but not too much because there were few noises that would wake her up, but in my sobs, I hear a soft voice.

“What’s the matter, baby?” 

Despite the pain she was enduring, the suffering she was going through and the fear she had of how her passing would be, she was still worried about me. 

That was very much evident a few months before she passed when my business partner came to see her.  I had walked out of the room for a few minutes, and when I came back, she was crying and I heard her say, “I’m so scared for him.”  She knew me so well that she knew exactly what her passing would do to me.  She knew her race was coming to an end, and I’d have to keep running, and she was so scared to leave me running alone. 

That’s how sweet she was.  In my selfish moments, I wish she was still in my life.  In those times, I tell myself to stop being so selfish and stop crying.

There was so much I wanted to say at the funeral, but I kept it on the light side because I would’ve lost my composure had I shared more of the deeper moments. 

                                           (Some excerpts from her service:  Intro, testimonial, 
                                            parts of the eulogy)

I wrote this line as the holiday season ended last year.

“Just a harmony looking for a melody that’s gone
Yule time with no carol, no joyous wondrous song”

It’s been a year, but I can still hear her voice at times.  Mainly she tells me to stop eating so many cookies.

I’d love to share quite a bit more about Carol, but I know she’d have none of it.  So, thank you folks. Thank you for allowing me to share this journey the past few years and thank you so much for the prayers.

Natalie Meets Silverton Bunny & Friends

 

At a time not very long ago, there was a little girl named Natalie.

She lived with her parents in a house by the woods.

 

Her best friend in the world was her little dog.  The dog was just a puppy when she was given to Natalie. 

Natalie would always call her Pup.

“You’re my best friend, Pup,” she’d say as she wrapped her arms around her friend.

 

One of her favorite things to do was when her father would take her and Pup for walks through the woods.

Her father would point at the trees, the birds and the clouds and tell her stories of princesses and castles.

 

Hand in hand, they’d walk through the woods as Pup would follow closely.

“The woods is a big place, Natalie,” her father would say.  “We only visit here when we’re together.  Right?”

“Right, Daddy,” Natalie would answer.

She looked up at him and saw him smiling at her.  She smiled at him with the biggest smile she could give.

 

One day while playing in the yard, Natalie saw a beautiful butterfly.

“Look, Pup, a butterfly,” she said to her puppy as the butterfly flew around her head.

Her puppy was just as excited to see the butterfly as she jumped and chased it around the yard.

 

The butterfly flew into the forest and Pup chased right after it.

“No, Pup!  Come back!” Natalie shouted.  Thinking only of her puppy, she chased Pup into the woods.

 

Running as fast as she could, Natalie tried so hard to keep up with her friend, but she didn’t see the tree stump in her path. 

She tripped and landed hard on her right arm.  It hurt so much she started to cry.

When she sat up, she realized she was lost in the woods, and so she cried harder.

“Pup,” she called out as she wiped her cheek from the tears that were flowing.

“Pup, please come back,” she shouted, but Pup was nowhere in sight.

Her arm hurt so much, and feeling lost and lonely, Natalie continued to cry.

 

Not far away, a bunny heard the cries of a little girl.

He followed the sound of her cries and found her sitting on the ground as she tried to wipe away her tears with her arm that wasn’t hurt.

He walked up to her to see if he could help.

 

“What’s the matter?” the bunny asked Natalie.

“I lost my Pup,” Natalie said as she rubbed her eyes with her hand, “and I’m lost, and my arm hurts.”  She began to cry more.

“Now, now,” said the bunny, “things may look bad right now, but it’ll get better soon.  And I’ll help you.”

 

“You will?” asked Natalie as she moved her hand from her eyes.

“Why, you’re a rabbit,” she said.

“Yes, yes I am,” said the rabbit.  “My name is Silverton.  Silverton Bunny,” he said as he bowed.

 

“Hello Mr. Bunny,” Natalie said, “it’s so nice to meet you.”

“And it’s lovely to meet you,” said the rabbit, “but you can call me Silverton.”

“Hello Silverton, my name is Natalie,” said the girl.

“What a beautiful name,” said Silverton, “and now tell me how I could help.”

 

So, Natalie told Silverton all about Pup, her father, the butterfly, the woods and how she hurt her arm.  Silverton listened intently, nodding along as Natalie described every detail.

“So,” Silverton said after Natalie finished, “we need to fix your arm, find your Pup and get you home.”

Natalie sadly nodded, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy. 

“Don’t be sad,” said Silverton, “I don’t know about the arm, but we’ll find your Pup and get you home.”

 

 Silverton carefully helped Natalie stand up. 

Her arm hurt when she tried to straighten it, so she kept it bent at the elbow.  She used her other hand to help support it.

“Come on,” Silverton said, “Ed might be able to find your home.”

“Who’s Ed?” Natalie asked.

“He’s one of my friends,” Silverton replied. 

 

Silverton led Natalie down on a short walk where they came to a little river. 

“Ed should be around here somewhere,” Silverton told Natalie.  “Ed, oh Ed!  Are you here?” Silverton shouted.

Up, out of the water a turtle appeared.  He jumped onto the grass next to Silverton.

“Hello, Silverton,” said the turtle.  He glanced at Natalie and asked, “and who’s your friend?”

“Ed, so good to see you,” Silverton said as his paw gently tapped Ed’s shell.  “I’d like you to meet my friend, Natalie.”

 

“Hello, Ed, it’s nice to meet you,” Natalie said, trying to sound as cheerful as she could, but Ed noticed her sadness and the way she held her arm.

“Oooooh, what’s the matter, Natalie?”  Ed asked.  “It can’t be all that bad, can it?”

Silverton said, “Natalie hurt her arm, lost her dog and can’t find her way home.”

“Hmmmm, I don’t know about the arm, but I’m sure we can help find her dog and her home,” Ed said.

Silverton clapped his paws together and said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.  How about you go up and down the river to see if you can find her home?”

Ed nodded and said, “I’d be happy to do that for our friend.  Natalie, tell me what your home looks like.”

Natalie described the color and shape of her home and how the yard looked, and Ed feeling quite confident that he would find it, jumped in the river and swam away.

 

“Well,” Silverton said as he gently patted Natalie’s arm, “now that we have Ed looking for your home, let’s see what we can do to find your dog.”

“Her name is Pup,” Natalie said.  “I’ve called and I’ve called for her, but she won’t come back.”

“She probably just can’t hear you right now,” said Silverton, “but let’s go see my friend Bowman.  Perhaps he’s seen your puppy.”

Natalie nodded and the two began walking into a different part of the woods.

After they walked a little way, they came to a spot where the trees were very close together. 

“Bowman likes to spend a lot of time in this spot,” Silverton said to Natalie.  Looking around, he lifted his head up, and with a loud voice, he cried out, “Bowman, oh Bowman, where are you?”

Natalie saw the face of a bear poke around one of the trees.  For a moment, Natalie was frightened as the bear came out and started walking toward them.  It came right up to them and plopping down on the ground, it sat right next to them.

“Hello Silverton,” the bear said in a low, husky voice.

“Hello Bowman,” Silverton said, “what have you been up to today?”

“Ohhh, this and that,” Bowman said as he scratched his head with his paw. 

Silverton said, “Bowman, this is Natalie.”

“Hello Natalie,” Bowman said, looking at the way she held her arm, “what’s the matter with your arm?”

Natalie answered, “I fell down, and I hurt it.”

“Would you like some honey?” Bowman asked.  “Maybe it’ll make your arm feel better.”

“Bowman,” said Silverton, shaking his head, “honey does not make everything better.”

“It does for me,” said Bowman, and Natalie laughed.

“Actually,” Silverton said, “we need to find Natalie’s friend, her dog, Pup.”

“Pup?” Bowman responded, “oh, that’s a cute name.”

“Yes, it is, now perhaps you can start sniffing around and see if you can smell him out,” said Silverton.

“Okay,” Bowman said as he stood up, “but we have to be careful about that lion that’s roaming around.”

“A lion?”  Natalie exclaimed.  “What’s a lion doing in the woods?”

“We don’t know,” Silverton answered.

“And we don’t want to find out because he’ll eat us,” said Bowman with a shudder.

“He could very well do that,” said Silverton, “that’s why all of us stay away from him.”

Bowman shook his head in agreement.

“Well, come on now,” said Silverton, “start sniffing around and we’ll follow you.”

“Okay,” said Bowman, and he lifted his head and began sniffing around.  He twirled around a few times, and then stopped.  He sniffed a little more in the direction he was facing and started walking.  Silverton Bunny and Natalie looked at each other, and then followed Bowman.

They continued to follow Bowman until he stopped.  He was staring at something, so Silverton and Natalie came closer to him so they could see what he had found.

Bowman had been staring at a big patch of grass.  On the grass was a rabbit and dog jumping and hopping around, chasing each other, and generally having a lot of fun.

When Natalie saw who it was, with a big smile, she exclaimed, “Pup!”

The dog stopped, and seeing Natalie, immediately ran to her.  Natalie embraced Pup tightly with her good arm as the dog licked her face enthusiastically. 

Silverton and Bowman saw the joy on Natalie’s face.  They smiled at each other.

Patting Bowman on the shoulder, Silverton said, “Well done, Bowman.  It seems you and Crystal found Natalie’s friend.”

“Yes, but I found her first,” said a voice behind them.  It was Crystal, the bunny who had been playing with Pup.  When she heard Natalie’s voice and saw Pup run into her embrace, she walked over to see what was going on.

“Hello, Crystal,” said Silverton, “yes, we all know you found her first.”

“But I was the one who was looking for her,” interrupted Bowman.

“Yes,” said Silverton, “and you did a great job in helping us find her.

That response seemed to make both Bowman and Crystal happy, so Silverton turned his attention to Natalie.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his paws together, “we found your Pup.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” Natalie laughed.  “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“It was our pleasure,” Silverton said.  “Wasn’t it?” he asked, motioning to Bowman and Crystal.  They both nodded in agreement.

“Natalie, this is Crystal,” Silverton continued, “Crystal, this is Natalie.”

“Hello Natalie,” Crystal said, “Oh, that is such a pretty dress.”

Natalie looked at her dress.  It was her favorite green dress. 

“Thank you.  Green’s my favorite color,” Natalie said.

“And it looks great on you, doesn’t it, boys?” Crystal motioned to Silverton and Bowman.  They both nodded in agreement. 

Meanwhile, Pup had gone over to nuzzle against Silverton and Bowman.  Pup was a friendly dog, and Silverton and Bowman petted and patter her, and soon they all began to play.  Natalie watched, because her arm was hurting, but she was laughing as the two bunnies, the bear and her Pup were racing all around, chasing each other.  They played until Pup had had enough, and it went over to Natalie and sat down next to her. 

After he had caught his breath, Silverton said, “Okay, our first task is completed.  Now it’s time to see if Ed has found Natalie’s home.  The river is not far from here.  Let’s go there and wait for him.”

So, the five new friends started walking until they came to the river. 

“Ed should come around pretty soon,” Silverton said.  “We’ll wait for him here.”

So, they all sat down and waited for Ed to appear.  While they waited, Natalie told them all about her home, her parents, the walks she’d take with her father and some of the wonderful stories he would tell her.  Crystal showed great interest in the description of the home and the stories Natalie’s father would tell.  Bowman kept asking Natalie if they found any food when she would walk with her father, while Silverton enjoyed watching Natalie’s joy as she described her home and her time with her father.

Soon, Ed came back from his search to find Natalie’s home.  They all greeted Ed while Natalie eagerly waited to see if Ed had found her home.

“I’m sorry, Natalie,” Ed said, “I didn’t find your home.”

Natalie held her arm tighter and felt like crying.  It was going to get dark soon, and she was starting to get afraid. 

“We should get away from here, though,” Ed continued, “the lion is not far from here.”

“The lion!” all the furry friends exclaimed and shuddered.

“Yes,” said Ed, “I just passed by where he is.  I had to walk carefully so he wouldn’t see me.”

“What was he doing?” Natalie asked.

“Just sitting on a log with his head down,” replied Ed.

“Why was head down?” Natalie asked.

“I don’t know,” said Ed, “and I wasn’t going to hang around to find out.”

“Where is he?” asked Natalie.

Pointing in one direction, Ed answered, “He’s over there.  Why?”

“I want to look at him,” Natalie said, as she started walking where Ed had pointed.

“No, no!” all the friends said, as they tried to prevent her from walking.  Bowman got in front of her.  Ed grabbed her foot.  Silverton and Crystal tried to pull her from behind.

“It’s going to be fine,” Natalie said as she tried to push her way forward.  “I’m not going to disturb him.  I just want to see him.  I’ll be quiet.  I promise.”

Although they didn’t agree with her, they saw they weren’t going to be able to stop her.  They understood that if they continued to try, they would only hurt her arm even more. 

“Okay,” said Silverton, “we’ll all go with you.”

Bowman shook his head dramatically.

“Yes, all of us,” continued Silverton, “but we have to be very quiet.  Okay, Natalie?”

Natalie nodded, and they all began to walk quietly with Ed leading the way.  They were all very nervous, but they all knew that Natalie was very sad because she was lost and in pain, so they tried to be brave so that she can see what she wanted to see.

Ed stopped behind some bushes, and whispered to the group, “He’s over there.” 

They carefully and quietly peeked through the bushes and saw the lion, just as Ed had said.  Sitting on a log, the lion had his head down.  He appeared to be crying.

Natalie quietly stepped out from behind the bushes.  Her friends had tried to stop her, but it was too late.  She had moved quickly and was now slowly walking over to where the lion was sitting.  Her friends were terrified that the lion would do something to her.

“I can’t look,” whispered Bowman as he covered his face with his paws.

“Oh, the poor girl,” said Crystal. 

Natalie carefully walked over to the lion.  The lion did not seem to notice her, but just sat there with his head down.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Lion?” Natalie quietly asked.

The lion lifted his head and looked at her with big tears in his eyes. 

“I’m all alone,” he said, a big lion tear rolling down his cheek.

“Well, you’re not alone anymore,” Natalie said.  She sat down on the log next to him and carefully put her good arm around his shoulder.  He put his head on her shoulder and cried.

Soon, he lifted his head up and looked at Natalie.

“Why have you been alone?” asked Natalie.

“Because all the woods animals think I’ll hurt them,” the lion said.  “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he said, sadly shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Silverton and his friends had been watching.  They had first been frightened but were surprised when they saw Natalie sit down next to the lion, and he put her head on her shoulder.  When they saw the lion had been crying, they looked at each other and realized that nobody was afraid anymore.  They all felt sad for the lion. 

They quietly walked over to where the lion and Natalie were sitting. 

“Hello, Mr. Lion,” Silverton said.

“Hello,” responded the lion.

“You’re not going to hurt us, are you?” asked Bowman.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” responded the lion.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Natalie.  “In fact, he’s been out here all alone because you’ve been afraid of him.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Lion,” Crystal said.  “We didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”

“Oh, I know that didn’t mean to make you feel sad,” Natalie said to the lion.  “These are my friends, and they can be your friends, too.  What’s your name?”

“Mo,” the lion said, sniffling. 

“Hello, Mo.  I’m Natalie,” said the girl.

“Hello, Natalie.  That’s a pretty name,” said Mo.

Natalie thanked him and proceeded to introduce all the animals to Mo.  Mo assured all of them that he wouldn’t hurt them, and they assured him that they would be his friends.  They were all curious as to how he was in the woods.  He told them that he had grown up in a zoo with his mom.  He told of how he was fed good food and had a big place to run around.  He told them that his mom told him they were moving to another zoo.

“One day,” he said, “we got on a big truck to go to the other zoo, and as we were on the road, I fell off the truck.” 

“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Bowman. 

“I’ve been out here all alone ever since,” Mo sobbed.

“Well, you won’t be here alone anymore,” said Silverton.

All his friends agreed and came up to Mo and gave him a hug.  It was quite amusing to see Ed try to reach up and give the lion and hug, and in the end, Mo bent real low to make it work.

“Thank you,” Mo told Natalie as he gave her a big hug, “thank you for helping me find some friends.”

Natalie looked him right in his eyes, and said, “You are very welcome.”

The new friends all wanted to hear Mo’s adventures, and he told them everything.  Bowman kept offering him honey and Crystal kept patting his paw during the sad parts, but soon Mo was curious why Natalie was in the woods all by herself. 

Natalie shared her story with Mo as she did with Silverton and the group.  Silverton, Bowman and Crystal would jump in to share some fact that Natalie would forget to mention.  When Natalie described her home, Mo got very excited.  He started jumping up and down.

“I know where your home is, I know where your home is,” he kept saying.

“You do?” Natalie asked, excitedly.

“I do, I do, I do,” Mo answered, even more excitedly.  He proceeded to describe the color of the house and the way the yard looks.

Natalie was so excited that if her arm didn’t hurt so much, she would’ve wrapped both arms around the lion and hug him as hard as she could. 

“Do you know how to get there?” Natalie asked Mo.

“Yes, I do,” Mo answered, “but it’s a little far.  If we start walking now, we should get there before it gets dark.”

“Well, lead the way, Mo,” said Silverton.

“You’re coming with us?” Natalie asked.

“Of course,” said Silverton.

“All the way,” said Crystal.

“That’s what friends do,” said Ed.

“And I’ll bring the honey in case we get hungry along the way,” said Bowman, and everybody laughed.

So, they all started walking.  Mo made sure to walk right next to Natalie.  Pup walked on the other side of her, and Silverton, Crystal, Bowman and Ed followed closely.

“If you’re tired of holding your arm, you could rest your arm on my back,” Mo told Natalie.

“Oh, thank you, Mo,” Natalie said, “my other arm is getting awfully tired.”

Natalie gently placed her arm on Mo’s back, and he was careful to walk close to her and not to be so shaky in his walk.  Natalie was very grateful that she could rest her arm on the lion.  It helped ease the pain a little bit, but it was such a great comfort to know that he and the others were doing everything they could to help her. 

Silverton tried to keep Natalie’s spirits up by describing all his adventures in the woods, and the others would share their stories as well.  It was starting to get dark, and Natalie was beginning to get scared, but Mo assured her that they were getting closer.

After they walked a little longer, Natalie began to look around. 

“This looks familiar,” she said. 

“Does it?” asked Crystal.

“Yes,” Natalie said excitedly, “yes, I’ve walk by this place many times with my father.”

“Yes, we’re getting close,” said Mo.

Natalie was so relieved that she starting laughing and soon they were all laughing with her.  They walked a little longer and soon Natalie’s home came into view, and seeing the home, Pup ran off towards it.  Natalie was so excited and happy she wanted to start running, too, but she turned towards Silverton and everybody.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Natalie said.  She outstretched her good arm and all the animals came together for a big group hug. 

“Thank you,” she repeated, “thank you for helping me find Pup and helping me get home.”

All the animals said they were glad they could help, and said they’d be here whenever she needed help.  They all pulled away so she can get on her way, but Mo held on to her tightly. 

“Thank you,” Mo said, “thank you, thank you.”

“For what, Mo?” Natalie asked.

Mo looked at her with a big lion tear in his eye, “For helping me find new friends.”

Natalie understood that Mo was the one to help her get home, and she was grateful that she was able to help him as well. 

“You are very welcome, Mo,” Natalie said.  “Thank you for helping me with my arm and helping me get home.”

“You’re my best friend,” Mo said.

“We are best friends, aren’t we?” she responded, and he nodded with great enthusiasm.

“Natalie,” a voice was heard from a distance, and immediately tears came to Natalie’s eyes.  She knew it was her father, and she knew she had found her way home.

She turned and started running towards her home.  Running, running, as fast as she could.  The tears rolled down her cheeks because she was so happy that she was home and so thankful for Silverton and his friends for helping her.

Suddenly, she saw her dad, and she ran even faster. 

“Daddy,” she yelled, and he saw her.  A giant smile appeared on his face as he began running to her as he called out her name.

She jumped into his arms, and they held each other tightly. 

“You’re home, baby.  You’re home,” he kept saying.

Silverton and his friends watched from a distance.

“I hope we get to see her again,” Bowman said.

“We will,” Silverton said.  He turned to Mo and patted him on the shoulder, “We’ll see her again someday.”

Mo smiled, happy that he helped his best friend find her way home.

Natalie and her dad continued hugging.  They cried and they laughed, as he spun her around in circles.  Now it may have been because she was home, or maybe because she was in her father’s arms, but her arm no longer hurt.

She was right where she wanted to be; home and safe in her Daddy’s arms.

THE END

Untitled Story

 

It was all darkness.  Of the five senses that each of us experience to some extent or another, his lack of vision is what he noticed first.  Although he was totally unaware of anything about his present situation, the thought of not having sight gave him a fright.  His heart began to race and feeling the beating in his chest made him realize that he was lying on his back.

“I’m not blind,” he thought, “my eyes are closed.”

He sighed in great relief.  He then smiled which turned into a hearty chuckle.  He slowly opened his eyes and the laughter died quickly as he saw a sky that he never seen in his life.  It was filled with all sorts of colors, blues, reds, greens, yellows, and many others that melted and blended into each other.  His eyes moved all over head as he surveyed every inch of sky he could view. 

“Am I dead?” he thought.  “Is this heaven?”

It was funny that the thought of heaven crossed his mind as he rarely gave it much thought before. 

The thought that this must be a dream caused him to pinch himself.  It hurt.  That didn’t prove anything as he recalled he’s had many dreams where he experienced physical pain.  He slowly sat up and his view shifted to his immediate surroundings, and what a sight he saw.  He looked around.  As far as his eye could see, in every direction, he saw roses.  As far as he could tell, every single one of them was purple, and not one showed any sign of fading. 

He glanced to his right and looked at the rose closest to him.  He guessed it stood three feet off the ground.  It was actually twenty-nine inches tall.  In fact, they all stood the same height.  He looked at the stem and noticed there were no thorns.  He turned to the rose on his left and saw it, too, had no thorns.  He lifted up his arm and ran his fingers down the stem of the rose.  It felt like velvet.  It was when his fingers came to the bottom that he realized the ground was sand.  It was red, almost blood red. 

The color surprised him so much that he immediately thought he was wounded and was bleeding out.  He patted himself, up and down his body.  Nothing seemed to hurt.  He checked his fingers to make sure they weren’t wet.  He stared at them for a few moments.  Considering everything he had seen since he opened his eyes, looking at his fingers brought him a sense of comfort.  It was the only thing that made sense.

“This has got to be a dream,” he said aloud.

The sound of his own voice startled him.  He suddenly became aware of two things.  First, he realized that, up until that moment, everything had been totally silent, deathly silent, a silence created in a vacuum.  The second thing he noticed was that he heard music.  It seemed as if the sound of his voice triggered the music, or perhaps the music had been playing and he had been unable to hear up until that point. 

He looked around to see where the music was coming from.  It seemed to come from every direction.  There was no way possible he should be hearing music, but he was hearing it.  The sound of the music caused chills to run up his spine, not because of the melody, but because of its sound.  He listened, and he could hear every instrument he’s ever heard, all blended into one sound.  He noticed that if he focused on listening to one instrument, it appeared to get louder:  tuba, piccolo, bagpipes, cello, theremin, glockenspiel, acoustic guitar. When he stopped concentrating on one sound, they all blended back together.

It was beginning to freak him out.  He wanted to get somewhere, anywhere to get away from the music.  He stood up, staring at the sky as he did.  After a few moments, his gaze dropped to view the landscape, and that’s when he saw them.  He saw people scattered among the field of roses.  They were all lying flat on the ground, as he once was, completely motionless. 

He looked at the person nearest to him and took a step to take a closer inspection.  Forgetting the sand, he was surprised how his foot sunk into the soil.  He took another step, adjusting for the instability of the ground.  He walked over to the body, for though it had once been a person, that was clearly no longer the case.  Decomposition had set in, and lifeless eyes stared, almost accusingly, at him.  He instinctively took a step back.  He looked away, and he saw the person next to the body.  This person, too, was dead.  He looked all around him.

“Are all these people dead?” he wondered.

He started walking slowly, careful to not step on or trip over any bodies.  Every body he saw was clearly dead.  His heart started to race again, only this time he knew it wasn’t going to be calmed by merely opening his eyes.  His pace quickened, but he paused for a moment when he came to one of the bodies.  He was stupefied by the dichotomy of what he was witnessing.  From where he stood, one of the roses covered his view of seeing the face.  He tilted his head slightly to the left, and he could see the face of the dead man.  Tilting his head back to the right, and the face was again covered by the rose.  He tilted his head slowly back and forth; rose, face, rose, face, the beauty and life of the rose, the ugliness of death.

He lifted his eyes and looked at the field.  A string of thoughts ran through his mind as he began turning and seeing the same view in all directions.

“What happened here?  Why is everybody dead, and why am I the only one alive?” he thought.

“I got to get out of this field,” he said aloud.

He looked up to the sky and noticed, for the first time, that he did not see a sun.  There was plenty of light, almost too much, and his eyes frantically searched the sky for the source of light. 

His head dropped, his shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh.

“Weird colored sky, weird music, weird field, death all around me, sure, why not no sun in the sky?” he muttered.

Though he had no idea where he wanted to go, he had looked up to the sky to find the sun to get a sense of direction.  Now he realized he didn’t even know north from south, east from west.  He had never felt so lost.

A tear rolled down his cheek as a wave of loneliness swept over him.  Worse yet, he felt extremely vulnerable, as if whatever caused the death of all the people around him now had him in its sights.  He instinctively felt the need to crouch down and hide amongst the flowers.  He smiled at that thought.  The chances of there being a sniper anywhere close were highly unlikely, and he hadn’t noticed any bullet wounds in any of the bodies.

He had to get out of this field.  With nothing to go by and nothing on the horizon that offered any hope that there was an end to the field, he picked a direction and started walking.  He trudged through the sand, sidestepping bodies, while trying to keep from losing his composure.  It wasn’t easy, and, considering the circumstances, he couldn’t be blamed if he lost all his composure.  Each step he took, he took a deep breath hoping to keep his heart beating at a semi acceptable level.  Though anxious to find a way to get out of this field, his pace was slow.

He had walked a few hundred yards when he began noticing something.  It was faint at first, but as he took more steps, it was becoming quite clear.  The music that was wafting through the air was beginning to change.  All the instruments, but one, were fading in volume.  No, that’s not quite right.  The other instruments weren’t fading, the one instrument was getting louder.  He couldn’t identify the instrument, but whatever it was, it did not produce a pleasant sound.  He noticed that each step he took, the sound would get louder.  He stopped.  He took a step back.  Then another, and the sound of that instrument got fainter. 

He took a few steps forward.  The instrument got louder.  A few steps back, and the instrument softened.  He turned and looked at the distance he had traveled.  There was no need to go back and return to where he started.  He turned back and started walking.  That instrument was growing louder, to the point of annoyance.  No, it was more than annoying.  It was becoming quite painful.  Imagine fingernails being scratched down a chalkboard.  Now imagine that sound getting louder every moment as the nails would dig into the surface.  He couldn’t stand it anymore.   He turned and started running back.  He finally got to a point where that instrument mercifully faded into the other instruments. 

He hadn’t reached the point where he first started, he was still quite a distance from it, but he didn’t know where to go now.  He looked to his left and decided to start walking.   The same phenomenon occurred. One of the instruments grew louder, this time it sounded like a snare drum.  It had a nice steady beat at first, but as he kept walking, not only did it get louder, the beat became very erratic.  It was too much to bear, and he turned back and walked until the noise became bearable. 

“Gotta find a decent sounding instrument,” he said aloud.

He began veering to the right and the sound of a violin grew louder.  It was not unpleasant at all.  It was as if it were being played by a virtuoso, not a beginner whose playing causes the cat to race out of the room, screeching.  As he continued walking, two things became quite clear.  He noticed that the sound of the violin got louder, but it reached a certain level and did not go louder.  In fact, it didn’t even reach a level that was at all annoying, let alone painful.  He also realized that the shape of the music changed.  The melodic form changed.  There was a certain beauty to it.  If it were not for the bizarre environment in which he found himself, he would have been enjoying the music he was now hearing.

Soulmates: Do They Exist?

Recently I came across this post, and I was intrigued because the concept of soulmates had been going through my mind for a bit. 

Carol and I were married for many years, and although there was great love there, we didn’t have the notion that we were each other’s soulmates, perhaps because there wasn’t an immediate spark.  She used to like to point out the fact that, before we met, she used to come to many of our concerts, and I would never see her, even at times when I’d walk right past her.  Her favorite instance was a party at our band’s singer’s house.   It wasn’t a big house, and there weren’t more than 30 people there, but even then, I never saw her there.

I do know the first evening we talked I thought about how much I enjoyed talking to her.  Did I walk away thinking I found my soulmate?  No, and I’m sure she didn’t either.  (Don’t get me wrong.  We did really love each other, and we were both sad when we realized it was time to part ways.)  I don’t know, but back then I didn’t really subscribe to the idea of a soulmate.  For years I didn’t, but I’ve been feeling something lately that has me wondering.

Having this feeling, I reached out to a number of people, both single and married, to hear their thoughts on whether soulmates exist or not.  It should come as no surprise that most single people have an idea that their soulmate is out there and hope to one day connect. 

As for the married folk, a majority say that they did not view their spouse as a soulmate when they first met, but as the years have passed in their marriage, they have come to realize they’re with the one they should be.  It feels to me as if they don’t want to admit that their spouse is not their soulmate.  That’s fine, because a lot of people don’t believe in soulmates, and also, because when you love someone and they love you back, it doesn’t matter about anyone else.

There were exemptions.  There were a few couples that said that they knew they were meant to be together the moment they connected. 

In talking with one individual, I was asked my thoughts on soulmates.  I told him that lately I’ve been feeling that there’s someone out there, and it’s a feeling that runs deep, beyond logic. 

I said, “I don’t want to overly romanticize this, but I feel like someone is out there, that she and I have been together since before time began, before the world was made.  Throughout the ages, we’ve been together, and have had times apart.  She’s been my crutch, and I’ve been her stretcher.  I’ve leaned on her when I’m weak, and when she’s been weak, I’d carry her, and it feels like that, at this moment in time, we’ve both been too weak to get to each other.”

After he commended me on a job well done in not overly romanticizing it, he asked if I’d know it the moment I met her.  I answered that I honestly didn’t know if I would. 

“If she’s your soulmate, wouldn’t you know it almost immediately?” he asked.

It’s a valid question, but it’s one posed to a nebulous subject.  I’m guessing that, based on the definition of soulmate, the answer to the question would be yes, but the very existence of soulmates is still in question.  Just because you feel a connection with someone doesn’t necessarily make them your soulmate. 

He then asked “Have you ever felt that kind of connection?” 

I answered him by saying that I did once, and it surprised me immensely.   It felt like I had met a kindred spirit, that she would understand me just as well as I’d understand her.  It felt like that, not only were we on the same page but, we were on the same paragraph, the same sentence.  For a few moments there, I thought, “Oh my God, have I actually connected with my soulmate?”

He asked me what happened, and I said that she told me that us being together wasn’t much of a win for her.  It was then that I realized I had erred ever so slightly in thinking I had possibly found my soulmate.

He had a good laugh at that one, and I laughed as well. 
I said, “I loved the honesty.  It was like she knew me well enough to not play games and instead got right to the point.”

I told him that’s why I don’t know if I’d recognize my soulmate immediately if we ever met.  There could be that kind of connection, but if it’s felt by only one of the two, then obviously they would not be soulmates. 
Or could they be?  

Perhaps most of these married couples have realized over time that the person they’ve spent their life with is their soulmate.  They may have not recognized it immediately, but as their love for each other grew, they knew there was no else in the world for them.  They’ve realized that no matter the struggles, the arguments, the disagreements, the differences, the obstacles and setbacks, there is no one else they’d rather have by their side but their spouse.  Perhaps that’s the closest thing to a clear definition of a soulmate.

As this next stage of life unfolds, at times I wonder if it’ll be with someone by my side.  I get the sense that if I do find someone, she and I will work on a number of things together.  Whether it be me helping her with her vision, or her helping me with my vision, or perhaps there’s so much synergy it would be a shared vision, I can see us building things, creating things, writing, whether it be musically, scripts or books.  

I don’t know if I’ll ever find her.  To be honest, I’ve hardly even looked.  I’ve felt that if my soulmate is out there, they’ll be little effort to find each other.  The mentality is that God will bring us together and we’d need to have the wisdom to recognize it when it happens.  In light of past relationships, it might be difficult to reconcile that concept, but you learn from your failures and fallings. 

Do I believe in the idea of soulmates?  

Well, if you based it on my thoughts that I don’t really have to look and that we’ll somehow find each other, you’d probably come to the conclusion that I do. 

Love and Relationships

A few days ago, a group of us had a discussion; the topic was love.  It started from a brief conversation that was had with someone at church, and the comment was made, “I love you, brother.”  That comment just felt too Christian-ese to the listener, too much of a church cliché, like when someone says they’ll pray for you as they slap you on the back and walk away. 

The thought that went through the listener’s head was, “How can you love me?  You don’t even know me,” and that started the discussion on whether there can be love when there’s no relationship.  The viewpoint was that if you loved someone, you were going to be in there life, that there would be relationship, and that absent that, there couldn’t be love.

One segment of the group didn’t totally agree with that position.  This segment, and it was me, said that it was possible to have love for someone without having relationship.  I asked if it was necessary to push your way into someone’s life and intrude in their space to prove that you love them.  I do my best to respect people’s time and space, and I’m a firm believer that if someone’s not interested in giving you their time, then they’re not really interested in you being in their space.    Making yourself available to whatever someone needs, whenever they need it, certainly there’s love there, wouldn’t you agree?  There are a number of people for whom I have love, who I have little contact with, but they still know, I believe, that if they ever needed anything, I’d be there in a heartbeat. 

After all, loving someone is wanting the best for them, and doing whatever is needed to attain that, even if that is merely being there only when you’re needed. 
Is that a cop-out? 
Is the act of establishing a close relationship with someone necessary for love to be involved? 

A segment of the group felt strongly that if you were going to show true love, then you were going to make huge efforts to be in their life, to know exactly what to provide when they’re in need.  There’s truth to that argument, and I won’t deny that, however, I couldn’t agree with the position that without relationship, there could be no real love.

The parable of the Good Samaritan had been brought up earlier in the conversation, and I circled back to it to prove my point.  Essentially, the parable was used to answer the question of who is our neighbor.  Yet, it was the follow up to the command to love your neighbor as yourself.  It’s clearly established that the Samaritan had no relationship with the injured man.  In fact, there was a history of animosity between the two entities.  However, the Samaritan was there in the man’s time of need. This parable was used to illustrate what it’s like to love your neighbor.  The Samaritan didn’t even know the man and yet gave of himself, and helped him overcome his ordeal.  The Samaritan gave of himself, his time, his resources to a man he did not even know.

Obviously, the parable was not intended to be used as a road map to how to avoid relationships and yet still give love.  It was used to highlight the point that you can love others, by giving of yourself, even to those you don’t even know.  It also hammers home the point that real love is the giving of yourself, your time, your resources without any expectation of reciprocity. 

Ultimately, the topic of the conversation became: 
Are Christians showing enough love to others? 
Have Christians, as a whole, failed in loving others? 
Are Christians merely giving platitudes when they say they’re going to keep someone in prayer?

There is a truth that relationships and love go hand in hand. 
Perhaps that’s what it is:  the deeper the relationship, the stronger love that can be shown. 

Yet, that shouldn’t be used to limit ourselves to the thought that there could be no love without relationship.  The Good Samaritan proved that some of the greatest acts of love can be shown to those that are not known to us.

Perhaps that’s the lesson for Christians during this time; at a time when people are afraid, at a time when people are in need for basic items, at a time when hope is fading. 

Have Christians, as a whole, in recent times, failed in showing love to others?  Perhaps.
Perhaps all that can change in this moment of history.

The Duplicitous Man

INTRO

If you personally know me, then you know this is quite unlike me to do such a thing.  I’m the one who tends to be rather private and will not divulge too much information about myself.  Whenever I’m talking with someone, I’m doing most of the listening.  I enjoy hearing people talking about their lives, their passions, their purpose, and I’ve found that most people appreciate that about me.  I will admit, however, if I’m talking about my vision or purpose, I will talk up a storm.  Although it may give a sense of who I am, it doesn’t give a great deal of insight into me as a person.  I guess the best analogy I can give is to say that if you asked me what car I drove, and I responded with the destination.  You know where I’m going, and by the destination you might have an idea as to what I’m driving, but it doesn’t give a clear description of the vehicle. 

So why am I doing this? 

Many years ago I was experiencing a time in which things were the most “perfect.”  I’m using perfect in quotations to denote that, although life has its problems and its issues, things were going very well.  I was married, had a nice home and was in the process of building something that, frankly was beyond my capabilities, but was the next step in what I had originally intended to build.  During this time, I was meeting new people, almost on a daily basis, and as I would get to know them, they would begin sharing their testimony with me.  I was hearing amazing stories of their battles, things they would have to overcome, struggles they faced and pain they had to endure, and how ultimately through God’s strength, they were able to persevere.  It was inspiring to hear of their strength, and yes, I know God’s strength pulled them through, but it takes a special character, a special fortitude to be able to withstand some of the things they had to go through.  I have to be honest and, as you might soon discover, the things through which I’ve gone are in no way near the level of trauma that a lot of people had to overcome.  I cannot stress that enough.  The “trauma” I have dealt with is minuscule in comparison to what hundreds of thousands and millions of people have had to endure during their lifetimes.   In doing this, I am pretty much publicly announcing how weak an individual I can be.  

But in listening to all these testimonies, I began making a comment, one that is most unwise.  I remember when I was younger, I heard a preacher make a comment about patience.  You may have heard it.  It pretty much stated that you should be most careful if you pray for patience.  In essence, if you’re stupid/brave enough to ask God for patience, He’s not going to just magically give it to you. You’re going to be going through some serious stuff to learn patience.

I can still hear his words, “So just make sure you’re really ready to go through some trials if you’re going to pray that prayer.” 

I have remembered that statement my whole life, and I would be like, “God, I’m good.  I’m trying to be as patient as I can.” 
And as smart as I was to avoid ever praying that, I took stupid to a whole other level by complaining that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s not that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s just that in comparison to what I was hearing, there just wasn’t much there.  So, yes, I stupidly verbally said that I didn’t have a testimony…….a number of times.

But here’s the little nugget that takes that stupidity into places so high few humans have even imagined.  I DON’T LIKE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF!  So who cares if I don’t have a testimony?   I’d rather not say it anyway.  What on earth was I thinking?  Obviously very little thinking was involved, you may say to yourself, and you would probably be right.  So why am I doing this? 

I few years ago I was reading a book that is inspirational.  Don’t ask me the name of it.  I don’t remember, and I don’t really remember much about what it said.  There’s a reason for that.  I’m not saying it was a bad book, but I found myself in an interesting line of thinking as I read it.  When I was reading it, I was in the middle of my biggest failure and so I was enjoying reading about the author’s mentality as he had overcome his failure.  And yes, there’s a certain comfort knowing that people have gone through what you’re going through, but something else struck me.  As I was reading it, I came to the realization (certainly not a brilliant stroke of genius observation) that, although the author had experienced what I was going through, he is no longer in that stage as I was reading it.  I had lost that sense of comfort.  Yes, he may have gone through it, but he’s enjoying his success right now, or else he’d never have a book.  Knowing that, I lost the connection, so I pretty much lost interest.

It got me to thinking that perhaps I should start a blog entitled, “In the Midst of Failure,” and detail my struggles, so that it could touch people who were, at that very moment, experiencing the same types of troubles.  So I started writing, but I just couldn’t bring myself to post it.  (Did I tell you I didn’t like talking about myself?) 

But a few things changed my mind.  The first was a meme, that I came across, that said, “Tell the story of the mountain you climbed.  Your words become a page in someone else’s survival guide.”  It really isn’t much more than an ad for an inspirational book, but there was something about the meme that just hit me.  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe it was just timing, or perhaps I was just in a different state of mind.  What began to put this in motion was when Facebook initiated their “Stories” feature, and I began to contemplate putting a streamlined version of “In the Midst of Failure” in that section.  I liked the concept because I would do it in a more artistic way, instead of just merely writing it.  I would do it in almost a comic book method, in that I would daily post some sort of artistic picture with a caption describing my life.  The other reason why I liked it is because the “Stories” are not permanent.  They post for twenty-four hours and then they disappear.  And for someone who is not at all used to sharing about himself, there was a sense comfort to that.  Yes, I’ve shared it and now it’s gone.  So I began to do that.  I have no idea if they were seen by anyone, and I take a bit of comfort in telling myself that nobody saw them.

As I did so, each day I posted, I listed each picture as a page, and I realized that each page could be a chapter as each caption was brief and can certainly be expounded upon.  But posting little pictures on Facebook was one thing.  Really going into detail about my life was an entirely different matter.  I was really uncomfortable about the thought of taking that step, and yet I was brought to the origin of how I got here in the first place.  I complained that I didn’t have a testimony, and now that God has provided me with one, it would make no sense to refrain from telling it.

You may ask, “How is this different from the inspirational book that you read?” 
You may be asking, “I’m in the midst of failure and you’re enjoying your success, so where do I find my comfort?”

It’s very simple.  This is not necessarily an inspirational book.  This highlights the journey of a very flawed man.  If I’m going to open myself up, then I’m going to have to go all the way.  You could take from this book what you’d like.  Perhaps you have some of the same tendencies, attitudes, feelings or characteristics, and this might serve as a warning.  Or perhaps it does inspire you to rise above who you are and become as God created you.  Whatever the case may be, you take from this whatever you can.  Like a painting, it’ll be open to interpretation.  In any event, I’m going to introduce you to the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything. 

In writing this, I’m going to write in the third person.  In fact, I just might label myself as the Narrator and comment on the character’s actions, feelings and moods.  In creating that distance, it gives me a false sense of security.  As false as the security may be, it enables me to reach into the deep of what is good and bad, light and darkness, genius and insanity.  That sentence right there may tell you about my lack of logical reasoning in this matter.  I am relying on a security that I know is false, and yet it’s real enough for me to take a jump.  They say the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result.  However, taking a leap, trusting in a net you know is not secure at all may be a better definition of insanity.

In any event, let us move forward.  Without further ado, I present the duplicitous man.

CHAPTER 1:  ISOLATED AND ALONE
In the midst of despair, isolated and alone, at 19, he tried to figure out his reason for living.

Narrator:  Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, young and old; come one, come all, big and small, short and tall, let me regale you by showing you the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything.  He’s a living contradiction, incongruous with himself.  He is the duplicitous man.

He stood in the living room of a house that was empty.  It had been his home for a few years, but he missed the home where he spent most of his childhood.  The comfort of home was no longer there.  It was a dwelling place, a very nice one at that, but his heart was not there.  The truth is his heart had been shattered to a point where he didn’t have a clue where the pieces were, and so he disconnected.

His younger brother would often call him a robot because there appeared to be no feelings emanating from him.  Though they weren’t visible, they were certainly there.  He was broken, so much so that he couldn’t deal with his emotions.  They had to be buried.  He could feel them eating at him, yet he wouldn’t be totally consumed by them. 

“This is not that bad,” he said aloud, his voice shattering the silence. 

NARRATOR:  If he were honest with himself he would agree that what he was going through was not that big a deal.  He had never known hunger.  He had never known thirst.  He had never been homeless.  He did not know abuse, nor did he experience anything less than growing up under the support of two loving parents. 

Much had changed in the last few years.  He thought of what it was like just a few years back, a childhood that was in no ways perfect, but one in which he had very few complaints.  If you’ve ever seen the show “The Wonder Years” or the movie “The Sandlot,” then you might have a glimpse into his childhood.  The fact is, growing up, he had three sets of friends.  Being young, he never fully appreciated it.  There’s that old line that says that you never fully appreciate something until you lose it.  He was certainly learning that lesson now.

His parents had become Christians when he four years old, and so going to church on a consistent basis became a way of life.  They got heavily involved, and so Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings were spent at church.  It wasn’t a big church, three hundred people at its largest, but there were plenty of kids there that were his age. 

Just a Theory: A short journey to Lookin In (PART II)

Brief recap:
A number of years ago, a band was created by accident.  When I say accident, I just mean that there was never any intention to form a band.  A group of guys got together to perform at a show and then things happened where we found ourselves in a band.  It's a bit of a long story, and in one of our videos, I explain the whole thing.  One of these days I'll post that video, but on to where we are now.

So we recently got back together to see if we could shake off enough rust to hit the studio and record one of our tunes.
I'll just say this.  Practice went incredible, and it wouldn't surprise me one bit if all we needed were a few practices to be performance ready.

When we got into the studio, a few of us decided to jump on the drums.  I tend to do that any time I see drums.  At one time in my life I got to be a pretty decent drummer, but that was a long time ago.  In fact, there's a dirty little secret in Just a Theory, that can't be shared, because it would probably result in the beating of one member by another.

In any event, here's a short clip of Just A Theory's other "drummers."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jMpSHpO4M8