Christmas

When I was a kid, we would go to the nearest Catholic Church each Christmas Eve for service. We don't anymore. Other than a wedding and three funerals, I've managed to avoid the Catholic Church altogether for the last 10 years. My first Christmas as a married person, I joined Becky's family at the church where 10 weeks earlier, I was married, for a Christmas Eve service. It was the last time I went to church so close to the holiday. I miss it, I think. As I drove from Virginia Beach to Fredericksburg alone yesterday (Christmas) evening, I was happy to have spent time with family, but I was feeling incomplete.

It may have had to do with the bruised face my nephew had after my sister-in-law's dog had a brief freak-out. It may have had to do with how people were really angry, like really angry, despite apologies. It may have had to do with the lack of good sleep I'd had in the previous few nights. I think it was a combination of those things, but I think those things were are reflections of the lack of grace, and more importantly, the lack of JESUS in the holiday. I don't expect some corporate discussion of Jesus and His importance to the world, and His birth being the whole reason we have this season. Truly, the fault lies with me. Before anything this morning, I should have isolated myself, or maybe Becky and me, and read the story of the birth of Christ (Matthew 1, Luke 1, John 1:1-5). I should have gone into the day with that on my heart and my focus rather than my desire to see my daughter open presents and drink coffee and eat food. All great things...there is no feeling like watching Ariella open a gift and realized, "This is for me..." but not THE MOST IMPORTANT.

Thank God for grace.

I love you.

Gun

simply put the shell in
pull the thing, then the trigger,
and if the safety's off,
you'll be able to tell quick,
because you won't even hear the click
just the shock and recoil,
the ear-splitting ring atop
the thunder-like explosion,
and soon you'll see holes in
something,
hopefully what you wanted.

life

Look here, see.
This sign says change,
or hope, but frick man,
I'm standing cold,
no cash of my own,
just this soup kitchen
that makes me listen
to sermons about a life
I may be missing,
what God wants of me,
well where the hell is he?

Look here, man,
my shoes' soles show
more sock and toes and
i'm feeling more and more cold,
and as I grow older,
I'm finding more and more
charity fades
and the friendly faces
they've been replacing
with scrutiny, as if
I was doing this to me,
as if I wanted tosleep
in a tent beneathe the trees,
as if if I followed God I'd see
that there's a bed for me,
well, I tried that.
and I think I have to die before He
relieves me.

Well, maybe that's okay.

Just believe me,
I believe, but still
I live on the frickin' street,
but see, it's not just me,
there's people who need to feel free,
there's people who need to see,
need to breathe again,
deeply,
wholly,
completely absorbing everything,
and knowing that this shit life
if temporary
fleeting,
soon to be but a memory and
treasures in heaven
are awaiting despite the things,
the sickness,
the drugs
the choices,
the life,
that put me on the street,
it put me on my knees.


I hope to help that story form.

Mission

Lend me a morning, and I'll teach you to sleep,
Think I'm self-destructive? well I've done learned to weep,
I've done what I can, and God, I'll do it again,
Yeah I'll give up on home, and head for the road
if that's what you want me to do,
yeah is that what you want me to do?

Hold me til morning, she said soft in my ear,
I'd love to but can't, for tomorrow is near,
I've done what I can, and God, I'll do it again,
But the sea keeps on calling, and the sea won't give in
and so I'm off in the morning
to spread the good news, yeah, the God's honest truth,

and heaving ho, my love
I've got to go
It's a calling again,
And I can only submit
To the message of a king
the world just struggles to see,
and oh me,
oh my, We must forget about me
oh me, oh my
we must forget about I,
for if in the end,
we give in to death,
we'll find ouselves alive
when we've forgotten of I

zero

Am I doing a good job?

Am I in the way?

Swearing, Kicking the Dirt, and Myself

You should have seen your faces when I tasted my own shoelaces, I was...
stetched so thin, you could see through my skin, see where I end and where I begin,
see the parts of me that rarely see anything but the underside of my pale wrapping,
I am sorry that I spoke, so God help me, if I don't choke, you'll know
I'm slowly learning from my mistakes, I'm slowly learning from my hands shake
so much from such and such and acting tough and no one saying anything but
enough's enough, nothing but barbs and twists, and no lifting up,
no, I could have done better, I could have worn a sweater when it's cold weather,
but I don't.
I just slide, slide, slide, and feeling always inferior and pushed aside,
I hide, hide, hide, and smile because I heard that is what's right.

But every time, I...

Man, I don't even know.
I'm tired, but I'm happy,
mostly, but lately,
I feel like all I do is let people down,
down to the ground,
and I'm being ground down,
it really hurts to
have no self-worth,
and feel so much remorse
for every single word that springs forth.

And I am alone.

Encourage

Tendrils of thought lash out like Indiana Jones' whip and wrap right around you, they hold you tightly and softly, smoothly touch your skin until tight enough and then they pull you in. My lips move like mountains, deliberately but constantly, they speak truth, they make what's gray seem clear and A-Okay. These fingers that you can't see could be so selfish, but I'd rather pull you closer to life than my side, I think I can get by on my own (with God's grace a constant speed dial on my phone). I only want the mutually beneficial, and sometimes that means thinking something different that the usual, you should tell that your clouds have sterling silver edges, not just thunder and lightning like you alleged.

Last Minute Mutterings

I can’t breathe in this suit. The tie, the freaking shirt, tucked in, and my belt…Ugh. It’s on the last available hole. Seriously. I can’t breathe.

Chill out.

You chill out man! You bought your suit like a week ago, I bought mine when I was a junior in college…before they opened a god-forsaken Pizza Hut across the street.

You look fine.

You can’t see the rug burns where the pressure of my waist line is shredding my skin every time I turn.

You’re being dramatic, man.

Dramatic? Do I look like I’m acting? I should win a damn award for this. This takes dedication. This is like when Christian Bale got all skinny for The Machinist. This freaking suit is going to be what I am wearing when I die because if I don’t breathe soon, I am going to die.

Here she comes.

Oh my God. She looks beautiful. This is the beginning of your new life. Congratulations.

and then there were none

and then there were none.
no feelings whatsoever,
no cold, driven by rain
like ms. daisy, cranky,
crisply tapping at these bones,
stripped of what was known,
and left alone, but now,
that feeling is gone.
no warmth, softly soothing,
speaking its soulful
solution to your open ear,
its supple lips inclined
to kiss and make you
want only more and more warm,
but that was before, and now,
that feeling is gone.
no happiness, no sadness,
frankly no feelings at all
gone. numb. speechless, dumb.
and then there were none.