Tuesday, September 15, 2009

On Grace, Maybe...

I am...it feels surreal.

I hope these dreams go away soon...

I found some relics from my dad earlier today...one of the two drumsticks he once got from a Styx concert, a couple of photos, a video of when I was three and we were a 'family', a couple of photos...I've got to find a shoebox for this stuff...

I also found a couple of cards from my grandmother.

It is strange how certain images can trigger chemical reactions...memories I tried to forget...

I need to get to writing...I just am afraid of looking down that black hole.

Is that normal?

It's silly fear the past or finding out things I don't want to know...but I guess there is something in every kid that wants to think their daddy is someone...respectable, someone worth looking up to...that you can believe in and love...yet...I have One who is...but God I just wish i could have a hug...I can remember the last time I had a hug for him and felt the bristles on his unshaven face press against my cheek.

The smell even.

I just wish I knew if he knew Jesus or not...that is one reason I wish I could say that the whole personal commitment thing is okay...but I know being good isn't enough...if Heaven and more important being with God was based on merit badges my dad would be screwed anyway.

I mean...the idea of God loving everyone enough to hold us accountable for our lives...and how desperately broken and lost we are and in need of that love and grace...it takes on a whole new meaning when you HAVE to trust Jesus knows what He is doing.

I wonder what he would think about me call to ministry...or this whole California idea...or trying to get an internship with xxxchurch...clearly some family look at me confused when I mention it...sometimes I wonder if he would get it...or would care...I mean in ways it *doesn't* matter...but in deep ways it would to me.

I'm...who I am...what I'm doing now...I'm spinning my tires and staying put on this spot. I think I've been using my illness, my fear...just as a reason to stay here. I hate, hate, hate being here...it's like being back in high school with what few enjoyable things stripped...

I want to walk on and leave the past behind where it should be...

I'm going to be carrying bits and pieces of this...most days it is manageable but on occasion...the love I feel can seem more like a poisonous wound that almost feels festering.

Things are not as dramatic as I make them out a lot of the time...but...but...words, words, words...

Maybe one day I'll borrow a page from Orson Scott Card's Ender series and maybe...try my hand at being a speaker for the dead.

For those unfamiliar with his sci-fi work...a speaker for the dead is a person that travels from planet to planet and at the request of people they research a deceased person and then speak about them. It's not simply a eulogy because they speak about their entire lives...all of it. The good, the bad and most importantly the ugly...it's a deceleration of the human experince...our condition and need to lie to ourselves that everything is okay when it's not.

I can't say the name David Alan Pike without cringing and wanting to hide my face...I need to...how did John Lennon put it? Cut a vein and let it all pour out on a page? I have a lot of half formed thoughts about that man...my dad...and part of me, the weak part, wants to hide from that...but I know I need to see me for me...and just open things up...air these ghosts and let things flutter and fly out.

I...so beginning was here in Jemison and I was returned here for a reason.

I don't know why...I may not know this side of eternity...but I'm ready to walk forward and see where this is all going.

It's...purpose...it is there...I thought I knew it but...You are there and are holding me up. Thank You...thank You so much...for just caring about me, for letting me having silly conversations, for feeling music, for taking this breath, for whatever challenges I'll see tomorrow...for giving me enough life that I can feel this pain...and the hope that this...that all of this will be okay...will work out and winning my love...thank You.

Help me...step forward.


Offers for help to go everywhere but I feel I should...I suppose the question is how committed am I?
Cleaning...cleaning...cleaning...but no book yet.

How is it possible for me to accumulate so much useless junk in one room?


I'm forgetting something and I cannot remember what it is...higher dosage of medication means less ability to remember and...maybe other stuff too.

Conversations...thinking...how many of the conversations I'm having are real or fake? This is getting crazy...the doctor said vivid dreams but this is a bit...crazy.

Hrmmm...
I need to find my copy of Stephen King's 'On Writing'!

It has been missing for a couple of years...anyone seen it?
Hmm...surprises come in all shapes and sizes it seems.

Don't worry...I'm treasuring both the happy moments and the ever lasting joy...the moment if fleeting but the beauty lasts a life time.

Godspeed you rest beyond rest.
Nausea medication which makes one more nauseated...what madness is this?!?

"Satellite of Love" - Lou Reed