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ive come to the conclusion that talking about your problems, the uh “challenges” we face is a good thing. talking about them to someone who cares allows some of the weight to be lifted. its a gift that removes from you just a little more of the hurt. its akin to removing an old bandage and allowing, for what could be the first time ever, fresh air into a old wound.but, in its very nature, even if we dont notice it… it carries a price.

a price you say? yes… and it can be hefty.

see, even when we dont want it too… it finalizes -even more so- the uh “challenges” your dealing with. all of a sudden, they are more real than they have ever been.

i ended up catchin dinner with the grandparents and an uncle this evening. overall, a very good evening.

good food (new orleans style!)
good people
good talks…..

but it is rough when your father completely threw his entire family down the drain. when your father is a sick man, and your moms parents know it. and they rightfully blame him for a horrid divorce and nearly killing my sister…

ok, so rough is an understatement. suffice it to say, it makes any “family gathering” extremely emotionally draining…

i dunno…

to close tonite, let me say that i realize my post may seem somewhat loose… lacking a cohesive thought pattern… you’re basically hearing my thoughts right now.

my father is a sick man. he threw away the very thing most people would die to protect. and my mothers side of the family absolutely reviles him for it. as they should.

but they are not the ones…. stuck in the middle.

some things will never change… unless we make a decision, and take the action, to change them.that being said, i hope a certain person in my life doesnt mind me using the above quote.

details are not neccessary, but suffice it to say it got me thinking a lot about my life. about choosing to change. about stepping up, so to speak, to the plate – and preparing yourself for whatever pitches are thrown your way.

on this road we call life, we will be given paths to take… and, on some occaions, we will be choices. and asked wether to take the easy path, or the road… the road we know will cause us pain. the road we know will end with our being scarred… the road that could kill us.

we will face these choices throughout our lives…
and the decisions we make…

in all reality, make us.

ya know, its interesting where i find myself tonite. i could very easily put on my hat of “big words” and try to sound all deep and profound tonite. i could try and offer something of valuse to you. something i would hope would enrich your life or make you think of me in a better light… i could try. but i wont. honestly, im just gonna be real tonite.

there are many things fighting for my attention tonite. and the one that seems to be vying for my thought processes the hardest is a thought… almost a memory of sorts. that i havent touched in quite some time.

i remember, in the not so distant past…. this thing some people know as passion. i remember getting up for church every sunday at 7:30 am. and going to both services. for no other reason than because i loved to worship. i loved His presence. i was passionate. it didnt matter if i was sick. or if i had slept 4 hours the nite before and was exhausted…. i went. i was madly, passionatly in love with my God and nothing was going to keep me from being with Him…

i remember getting up and wanting to go to church.

i remember a young man who wasnt this cynical about the world. i remember a time when he wasnt this scarred… when the cares of this world were easier to leave in Gods hands. i remember when he wasnt so mistrusting…

i remember times, many of them, where this young man would be overwhelmed and could do nothing but fall to his knees in passionate worship… or throw his hands in the air in praise and surrender. i remember feeling like church was the one place where you could feel accepted. no matter what. that it was the one place where it didnt matter what you had done, or where you came from… i remember being told that His love was a gift… and of that, un-earnable.

most of all, i remember going to church, and simply feeling safe.

its amazing how powerful that word has become to me over these past few days… i have, to this point, never given it any thought whatsoever… and all of a sudden – its at the forefront of my heart.

sunday morning found myself at the altar. and for the first time… in more than a year… i felt safe. i felt that i could let down my guard, and be real. i felt that i could drop the weights i was carrying and begin to breathe a little easier.

it was a simple gesture really… one of the pastors came over to me and… threw his arms around me… and held me…. he didnt try to pray for me. he didnt speak any words… he was just there. a shoulder, litterally… to cry on.

i can honestly say i didnt know what it felt like to be wracked with sobs… i do now.

for the first time in so long… i was safe….