You are currently browsing Peej’s articles.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures”
-Thorton Wilder
Happy Thanksgiving
for tonight… Lifehouse – Breathing
i’m finding my way back to sanity, again
though i don’t really know what
i am gonna do when I get there
take a breath and hold on tight
spin around one more time
and gracefully fall back in the arms of grace
cos i am hanging on every word You say
and even if You don’t want to speak tonight
that’s alright, alright with me
cos i want nothing more than to sit
outside heavens door and listen to You breathing
is where I want to be
i am looking past the shadows
of my mind into the truth and
im trying to identify
the voices in my head
God which one’s you?
let me feel one more time
what it feels like to feel
and break these calluses off me
one more time
cos i am hanging on every word You say
and even if You don’t want to speak tonight
that’s alright, alright with me
cos i want nothing more than to sit
outside your door and listen to You breathing
is where I want to be
i don’t want a thing from You
bet you’re tired of me waiting
for the scraps to fall
off your table to the ground
i just want to be here now
cos i am hanging on every word You say
and even if You don’t want to speak tonight
that’s alright, alright with me
cos i want nothing more than to sit
outside your door and listen to You breathing
is where I want to be
maturity is less the art of doing what is right, and more the imprinted knowing what is right. and doing it, even when no one is looking.
when i look at myself in that light, in the light that no one sees but me, do i like what i see? do i like who’ve ive become? where i’m headed? or what i’ve walked away from?
if there is one thing i need to learn, and have it engrained into me, it’s that my life is an example. every moment, of every hour of every day of every week. i am called to be an example. a witness. and its not even so much a calling as it is simple fact.
i watch people. and the way people act speak volumes about who they are, where they came from, and those that had a hand in forging and molding them. i wont sit under leaders who’s followers don’t exhibit the traits i want. so what does my life say? when people watch me…. what does my life say about those who spoke into me? who had a hand in forging and molding who i’ve become?
i know that ive been called for more. for more than this plane of existence. i hear the whispers, the voices on the wind.
and i need to follow.
i’m learning that 50% of life is if. 50%. why on earth would if be in life if it wasnt to remind us that we’re not in control. that there are bigger things at work here than we sometimes realize. that this life was meant to be lived with a view not just of today, but of the coming horizon. of the coming sunrise. of the hope and dreams of a future.
so what if if comprises the middle of this life. i’m going to live it anyway. i’m going to hope, and dream. i’m going to smile and dance. i’m going to laugh and love and learn.
hard times will come. a lot of times, that is what the if is comprised of. let them come.
i’m going to chose to be thankful. for an amazing Saviour, who’s there even when i doubt Him. and for the little things, like a boss who’s wonderful, or the sunrise today. or that its friday.
i dont typically post about the day to day goings on of life. but i felt that, at least for this one situation, i needed to. you see, i’ve been dealing with a situation at work thats not um…. ‘fun’. to put it mildly.
without going into details, because in the long run, they dont really matter… lets just say frustration was growing. and while i was stressing over it, over the if, at home no less, i realized something. i realized that i’ve got a great boss. a great boss who puts up with a heck of a lot more than i do. i’m thankful for my boss and for the job i have.
and beyond that, i’m breathing. right now. i’m living and alive. so heck yes, i’m going to live life.
bring on the if.
we sometimes write things in the heat of what we’re feeling, in the passion of the moment. in most cases, it’s a good thing. we need those outlets.
this was something written a number of months ago
there is a reason i spent the last hour searching through the archives of postsecret.com. it’s because i know that what im going through, what i’m feeling… it’s not unique.
we all deal with it. wondering. questioning. am i good enough? will i ever be good enough?
i think the question that scares me the most, is ‘did i miss it’? what ‘could’ have happened? did i miss the signs? or, did i hear correctly… and am i just dealing with a heart that never truly let go? that was still so wrapped around finding greatness, that when it was time to let it go, i didnt want to?
i think there are times when we all need to be reminded that we’re not alone in what we feel. that were not alone in what we’re going through. sometimes, all it takes to find the honesty in the situation we’re in, is to be honest ourselves. sometimes we just need to give ourselves permission to feel.
to simply feel.
and to say whatever it is that’s heavy on our hearts.
maybe its that our heart hurts. that there is an ache inside that wont easily go away. an ache that comes from a life lived long ago. and hopes that were birthed what seems like a lifetime ago.
my heart aches. for you. and for what could have been. i am afraid. of what this means. of the fact that i could have missed it. and of knowing how much this hurts. you’re married. i wasn’t there. and it wasn’t me. and i’ve got to be ok with that.
maybe im the only one who’s felt this way. who’s found themselves looking back, instead of looking forward. wondering about what could have been, instead of hoping for what is to come. worrying that i missed it, instead of trusting the Author of this story. of my story.
i don’t know if i’ve mentioned it on my blog or not, but i love antiques. i try to hit at least one antique shop every two weeks or so. there is something so beautiful about finding something with a story. something that’s not ‘new’. the shininess is gone. the glitz and glamour of its heyday is well passed. but that simply means that the stories it can tell… are now worth far more than a price tag could ever communicate.
i was wandering through one of my new favorite antique malls today. and i found myself talking to one of the nicest guys i’d ever met. you know the type, the type who just oozes happiness. joy from a source beyond himself.
we talked antiques, what he collects, what i collect… he made me smile. at the end of my trip, as i walked out to the parking lot and stopped to look at the first 2009 Dodge Challenger i’ve seen, he pulled up in his truck. we both looked, and drooled… he made some comment about it looking so much like the challengers did in his time. he laughed, i laughed, and we went our separate ways.
he was, at the very least, old enough to be considered an antique. and just from the few moments i was able to spend with him, i knew i’d like him. i knew he had more stories than i’d ever have time. and i knew he had lived, and was living, a full life. he was full of joy. and he greeted everything with a smile.
why does all this matter? because. because he couldn’t stand up to shake my hand. he’s an amputee, missing his right leg from well above the knee. he’s lived god only knows how many years attached to a chair with wheels. unable to stand or walk. and yet, he has joy. he lives this life to the fullest.
he’s the type of man, that in 40 years, i want to be. full of life. of stories. of joy. of hope.
so maybe i looked back. but that doesn’t mean i’m moving backwards. and although what i wrote months ago is a portion of who i was, its not who i am. i know that being here, in texas, was the right decision. and i know that the ones im faced with now, are the next steps in the life i’ve been called to live.
i think the lesson i’m learning through all of this, is how important it is to hold on, and how it is just as important to let go. i’m good at the holding on part. not so good at the letting go part. and i think…. i think its time to start letting go.
The Classic Crime – Closer Than We Think
i still hold the belief
that we are free
that we don’t need the rules to see
that despite what we’ve done
we’re not alone
we’re closer than we think to home
i hope you find what you’re looking for. and i hope that someday, it’s me.
i’m not really sure why that’s the thought that’s running through my head tonight. aside from the fact that in a way, it encompasses my heart. it’s where i hope i’m at.
preparation. training. the beginning.
of what? i’m not sure. but i just know that this isn’t all. that this isn’t what it is, ‘just because’. that there is more to the chaos, a theme to the stories that are being written. a current of hope beneath the crashing of the waves.
because someday, i want to be that answer. i want to be that person that you’re chasing. i want to be that person that you’re looking for. and someday, i want you to be the person i chase. the person i’m looking for. that person that will….
life will never be predictable. it will never fit into nice little molds, or conform itself to the way we want it to be. but sometimes, we’re lucky enough to capture a glimpse of why we’re here. of why this is happening. and we realize that what we are going through is working in us something so much greater. something that will make this all worth while.
we realize that this cacophony of noise has a Conductor, and as we tune our ear and turn our hearts, the nosie fades and we begin to hear the sweet notes of a symphony. we see catch glimpses of the Conductor, directing, changing and calling out different sections; woodwinds, brass and strings. we slowly realize that our part in this symphony is much smaller than we first thought, and at the same time, so much more amazing than we ever dreamed. we realize that even when we feel the most alone, we’re not. and even when our heart breaks, that ours isn’t the only one. and that even when life is its most cruel, and the tears flow freely, that there is still melody in the pain. that there is healing, right where we’re at. and that it’s at the darkest parts of our lives that we come to realize that this Conductor knows exactly what He’s doing… and if we only hope…
we will see the dawn.
the road we’re called to walk is very rarely paved. almost without fail, we’re caught offguard by how rough it can be. we’re thrown a curveball. we find out that the husband of a coworker just died… a coworker who was your age. who has two little ones. or a conversation with a family member doesnt go well, and your eyes are opened to how bad things really are.
its in those moments we look even harder for a purpose. for a reason for this madness. for some semblance of hope amidst the chaos. some pattern that speaks of a plan, of a purpose. that speaks to the truth that this isnt all random. and that we’re not alone.
that im not alone.
and thats really where i find myself tonight. both knowing, and hoping, that i wont be alone.
i’m waiting. waiting for whats next. hoping, that ive done what i needed to do. that ive taken the steps to become the man im supposed to be. hoping that ive found this healing, and that it is real. that it sticks, that i continue to heal. hoping that i wont give up. and that the changes im seeing, are forever changes.
because in all honesty, that’s the life i want to live. a forever life. a life that knows its not any more important than it actually is. a life that knows its here to serve, to love, and to find meaning in all of this.
a life that proclaims, and points, to purpose. to hope. a life that finds its purpose in the Author of my story…. and i honestly truly hope that this story finds itself intertwined with another.
but throughout this week ive been reminded that this hope, this desire for another, cannot ever be my goal. because whomever she is, she will not complete me. and i will never be completeness to her.
unless i find my entirety, my being, my self worth and unconditional love at the foot of the cross of the Author of my story, i will never be complete. and i will never be the man i need to be. my story will never be filled with the passion, the compassion, the joy and fire and vivacity i so yearn to see, unless i continually allow the author to have his way. i will never experience the love i so long to give, unless i find it first in Him. the canvas of my life will never be filled with the colors in my heart, i do not have the ability to bring them out. not in and of myself. but He does. the Author does. and it is there i will find life. i will find love. and i will find hope.
i still hold the belief
that we are free
that we don’t need the rules to see
that despite what we’ve done
we’re not alone
we’re closer than we think to home
It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
-President Theodore Roosevelt
may this be my creed.
my eyes still search for a purpose. they still hunger for more. they still do not rest without first looking up expectantly. i cannot go to sleep each night without first finding the moon and straining against the artificial, to see the stars…. to find true light.
i believe that yearning is only a mirrored reflection of what is truly going on inside of me. inside of you. inside of us all.
the search for beauty.
its all around us. promised in movies, magazines and tv. its spewed like gospel from the perfect mouths of millionaire spokes models. its preached from every marketplace- beauty, completeness, the hole-filling substance that will make you feel complete, whole.
products, marketing, consumerism, all predicated on the ingrained belief that you are not good enough. that i am not good enough. that we, no one, is good enough. and we never will be. not without this new thing, or that new product, or those ten new techniques. not without this amazing new ______ or that newly reformulated creme. we’re never good enough. but if you spent enough, bought enough, try hard enough, we will be. or so we’re told.
our lives become full of stuff. cluttered, artificial. we spend our days working hard for a paycheck. and we spend our nights and weekends hunting for that next fix, that next thing to complete us. to fill that aching void. we dance the dance of window shoppers. always looking, hoping, never truly finding satisfaction. never truly finding that one thing that completes us. that fills that hole.
we try, we burn ourselves out attempting to be good enough, to fit in. to have or act or say or wear whatever the right things are. all because deep down, we know we are faulty, broken, failed attempts at humanity searching for something with depth, for some form of truth. something that justifies our existence. that tells us our dreams for more, and our constant disappointment each time we find new ‘stuff’, isnt wrong. something that tells us that there is more. that life is out there, calling. that it aches for us to live it as much as we ache to taste true life, true freedom… to taste – truth.
we’re so afraid to show our true selves that we bury it; underneath our jobs or friends, beneath the veneer of wealth, skill or beauty. we hide behind our desks or our hobbies, our religion and our beliefs.
we do all that, fully knowing but never truly grasping that we are all broken, faulty, damaged beings. that we all remember the taste of hopelessness and the emptiness of knowing that we will never be capable of creating the beauty we so long to see.
we know, we just know we will never find what we’re looking for in the mall. but we keep looking anyway.
and you see this. if you dont yet, you will. go to the mall next friday night, find someplace busy and just watch. watch people. you’ll see the anorexic, the drunkard… you’ll see the girl so wanting to be loved she allows herself to be used. you’ll see the kids who’s parents dont care and the adults who’s parents never cared.
they… we… always fearing, always hoping that one day someone will see us. the real us. see through the gloss and find true beauty. the beauty we all hope exists inside of us. we all hope, but we’ve never been brave enough to risk showing it.
we always hope that someone would recognize the value in us, see that beauty, see beyond our brokenness and offer unmerited, unearned and wholly unconditional love.
for the time being, they do not matter.
Gustav may be a category 5 hurricane by the time it hits our coast. if you don’t do anything else tonight, pray for the southern coast of the US and Cuba. pray for protection, for Almighty providence, for a change in the winds…. for a miracle.
FindingTheCourageToDream.com 