Thanks Jerry (page 6)

The fog fell early tonight.  I've driven back and forth on Cranberry Road for ten years now.  And in one decade I have never seen what I saw tonight...

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. (Matthew 13:44)

The sun sat in the middle of the road's dashed lines a little ways up in the sky.  Trees took it on either side.  A green-leafed hallway waiting for Autumn air to burn all its colors brighter than they've shown these past eight months.  And it stayed in the same place stacked up on the backs of those branches right at the end of the street where I'd soon have to decide which way to go. Both directions have probably seen me equal amounts of times.  Just tonight, when I reach that STOP sign, deliberations will incur under the one star who's path might never be found.

I drove for a bit over a mile till that point came. And it's like I found the sun's path.  But I don't consider myself an explorer of any sorts.  I just happened upon the blue prints of the celestial on my way to the cinema.

I think we walk about life ignorant on most days. Don't worry, you can say, "No," and disagree with me. But really, I find it hard to believe that you have every single ounce of every single day of every bit of your life figured out down to even your dying day.

My friend, reader, fellow companion in pursuit of the Divine, reread my condescension and understand that I am being highly facetious because - for me and maybe it's only me, but (more sarcasm) - I think I'm getting firsthand glimpses of me being at a complete lack for control over how the world spins.  Really, I have thoughts on how things should be done.  I've gone to school for the 18+ years learning what teachers tell me to learn and graduating with a highly pretentious degree implying/indicating that I'm a writer of sorts.  And it's an education that makes me think I have a good grasp on the way things work.

They forgot to tell me, "One day you'll be driving around, maybe even to the cinema, and you'll see the sun floating up there way away in space and you'll think to yourself, 'Wow, why haven't I ever stared at the sun before?'  And once you walk out of the film you'll be lingering with friends going between 'Do we sneak into the next showing or not?'  And you'll discover then that rarely does logic apply to life because you just resolved that one day before you die, you will run up against some grand-schemed-System with Its lawmakers and conspiracy theorists, and you will sneak into that film not paying your $8.50 for no other reason than experiencing the thrill of doing something out of line.  That will be your escape from the normal."

And that, my illogical peers, is what any one person has never taught me during my 24-years of life.

Instead, I needed to go about the normal not looking for any trouble at all.  And the moment I drove into that normal, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I fell out of line into something different.  It was the same road I've traveled 3,650 times plus some, but it's like the surrounding world was completely changed from anything I knew before.

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. (Matthew 13:44)

I share this verse with you because I can picture the more detailed story that was left out of the Bible going something like this:

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE SPECULATION. IT IS NOT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OF FORM, TRUTH. IT IS COMPLETE FICTITIOUS, IF YOU WILL.

One day a man walked out into a field.  The field was always his first step.  Just this time, instead of turning toward his home, he'd continue walking straight into the sun, seeing where it led.  Earlier he had decided he wanted to take a new way home.  Something different. Something completely stranger to him.  He figured he could let all life slide for the next couple of hours since, really, he had no clue of how long it would take him to get home.  

Think of diverting yourself via foreign country on another continent rather than taking the typical 5-minute ride home.

So he's walking about.  Crosses a river. Hops over a mountain.  Scales the steepest cliffside and proceeds to take in a nice long deep breath on its precipice.  All without breaking a sweat, mind you, because this is the "Bible" and he's a man's man character. Then he comes across another field.  Says, "Sure."  And takes a few steps more.  Finds himself the most beautiful, the most unspeakable wonder of all time greater than any word ever used for its own description.

But for our purposes we'll call it the kingdom of heaven because it is like this(PLACE YOUR AMPLIFYING ADJECTIVE HERE) treasure. 

So this man ends up discovering what has never been discovered before and it was not by any foreknowledge of even 18-years of education.  Life taught him.  It's as if some higher power opened his eyes to something that's always been hidden along the same path he's always taken home.

Now, after finding this treasure he's been able to adventure to places quite foreign and magnificent that he's never thought about going.  And after very quickly realizing the freedom he's been given, he goes, sells all that he owns, and purchases the field.

The extended version of this story goes onto explain that the field is ever-changing.  It always keeps a freshness and newness about it.  So we never get bored with life.  In a way, it kind of sounds like the car ride I had where I drove down the same old road, but found a brand new view of the world around me, one I've never beheld before.  And it was wonderful.

And, if you must know my critical reader, the reason this detailed version of the parable was left out of the Bible was because, well, it was horribly written and mentions the word "Bible" in it.  I mean, what book would mention that it is a book within in its binding?  Strange.

But the honest truth still remains: I have lost any clue of what to expect in life.

I mean, one night I'm completely messed up at a late night beach excursion because I'm, for the first time, realizing good friends of the past will still be good friends, just not in the same way. (Sad.)

The next time I'm caught up in my car, deaf to the rain only an arms reach away, enjoying my own type of quiet.  (Peaceful.)

And then I'm repeating what I expected to be normal - driving Cranberry Road just as I always have to get into town - but the normal turns out only to be a guise for a new way of experiencing life. (Refreshing.)

I think through all of this progression from one day to the next, I am beginning to discover/rediscover a treasure I've probably had all along, but never fully understand its worth until now.

Thanks Jerry (page 5)

Tonight's rains were silent.  No rhythmic beats on the roof of my car as I stayed parked at the foot of the driveway.  I was deaf to the outside world.  Not a pitter patter.  But the windshield took collections.  Rain drops for drops for fluid movements like miniature rivers finding their way finally to the ground.

I didn't want to move.  Didn't want to go anywhere. The quiet was my kind of quiet:

"And if this is what it takes for You to shine

Then let me be refined..."

Drop for drop for minute passing while the same song goes singing on repeat.  My quiet kept starting it over again.

"I am broken now

Caught up in the lies

I've been found out

This time I can't deny

It..."

The other night I rediscovered a quiet place I haven't been to all summer.  And really, I probably haven't been there since my surgery.

It's peace.

It's still - ness.

Tranquil.  Quiet.  Serene.

It's all that I need for the life I'm caught up in. I'm not implying my life to be some uncensored bacchanalian ritualistic adventure.  On a much more practical and real level, my life is the normal life of going to&fro from one commitment to the next distraction.

And to be quite blunt, the quiet I found was Divine.

Ben played on by himself.  The room was busy.  It was getting late so some of the kids were going to catch their rides home.  But I was that guy in famous busy New York street scenes where I'm caught up in the crowd, but I'm just standing there, not moving with the crowd and not moving against them.  And I'm looking up to the sky.  And for the end of the movie I'm the focus.  It's not an arrogant thing.  It's not an "I'm better than you" thing. But it's me being that different the directors are looking for.  

It's me, still in my own way.

He kept playing.  The room was thinning out.  And I was glued to my chair.  Bit of a slouch.  Relaxed for the most part.  Listening:

"Sometimes I wish I was already there

You remind me that You're holding me with care

And I will wait for you..."

And I kept waiting in my car tonight.  Kept playing four minutes and three seconds over and over and looking around in slow motion ways.  The night sky was blurred from the trailing rains that were stealing my car for a bed. But who's to bother the inevitable.  The rains could have flooded the streets and taken my car out of gear so I would have gone careening down the hill I was parked on.  I would have found myself in the bogs.  And I probably would have found a new perspective on the moment I was living.

But I have to bet you that tonight's quiet would have kept playing on:

"And when I'm down

And when this man is done

You remind me

That You're making all things new..."

I don't know how I caught this quiet or how it caught me.  But all I can tell you is that I'm thankful for the time out from all that we consider normal. Because it's not like this quiet lies far beyond the outskirts of our noisy lives.  It is a quiet like those imaginary friends we used to keep so close when we were children.  But for some reason, the moment we come to, somewhere in our pre-adolescent years, we wave "Bye" to such faithful companions.  And if we rediscover those invisible people later on in life we kill them as quick as they flashed in for sanity's sake.  But this quiet is a different sort of childhood companion.

I guess I dub it a childhood friend because it's one that brings me back to a place of complete peace where mom was the comfort and dad was the hero that could fend off any beast who tried to attack me in the middle of the night.

This is one kind of quiet we should never wave "Good Bye" to.  And please, when you rediscover this quiet, take that four and some odd minutes, and keep replaying it over till the porch lights go out and you can see the house sleeping.

That's not when it's time to go in.

That's your queue to linger on and listen to your quiet play:

"Cause the light in the dark is starting to show

And the river of love overflows

Everything in this world never stays the same

But I know that I know that I know

Your love will never change, never change, for me..."

Deem, Ben. "Refined (live)." Right Before Our Eyes. Ben Deem Band. CD.

Random Insert

March 28th, 2009 - 

2:50 AM.  I am up late.  I know.  But I can't help it.  I am not that tired even though I want to fall asleep.  My body aches.  Today was the first dose of chemotherapy.  It's not that therapeutic.  I was attached to an IV for three hours. I was cold because of the drugs.  Too tired to eat.  The Benadryl sent me to sleep, but it was still light out. The day turned into a 12-hour affair.  I was not happy about that.  The doctors informed me of all the side effects and of the restrictive diet I would need to keep to.  I probably won't keep to it and I pray that I can remain as normal as possible. But they say I will break out in rashes.  That I will be more tired than normal.  That I will vomit.  That I will experience dry skin even to my feet. That my hair will fall out.  And that as the drugs course through my veins, they will be worn and weathered like the ocean eroding a cliff side.  But then the Bible proclaims that the Lord is my rock and my fortress; a refuge in times of trouble.  It says that in Him must I place my trust.

"Hear my prayer, O Lord,

and give ear to my cry;

hold not your peace at my tears!

For I am a sojourner with you,

a guest like all my fathers."

(Psalm 39:12)

I am Yours my Loving Father.  Please save me from this pain tonight.  Amen.

Today I am before you , and I stand in wonderment of our Divine Intimate. (That is one of my favorite ways of saying "God.")  

I am living.  

I am waking breathing running going coming sleeping passed out nights and starting it all over at 7 AM.  

I am unfaithful to my First Love.  Wait, I just opened my Bible. 

I am faithful to my God.  Or wait, I just prayed, muttered words, but the funny part is I can't recall them a minute later.  Or wait, Maybe this entire time my heart was faithful to God because our heart's connection with our Savior goes to incomprehendable depths.

I am in love with a Being I cannot see.  Let me rephrase: If I go for a lonely walk in the backwoods I will experience the best lonely there could ever be because beholding sightseeing gazing eyes-open-for-the-very-first-time is a belief-making experience fueling all the senses. So don't recklessly say, "Seeing is believing" because seeing goes far beyond the eyes.

I am an international detainee and God was with me then.

I am a cancer survivor and God was with me then.

I am unfinished and God is with me now.

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, "Abraham!"  And he said, "Here am I."  He said, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you. (Genesis 22: 1&2)

Trust.

I was diagnosed with cancer on February 20th of the past year...

Just the other day I told Sorrel the canker sore was probably nothing.  I had been so sick this past winter, and was given medication three times after having to drag myself our of bed to the doctor's office, that it was probably a persisting yeast infection.  I was 23.  In good health.  And life's been great after my recent engagement.  I had no need to worry.

The call came just minutes after I got to work. Becky was in the back room with me.  As I listened to Dr. Rubiez I hurriedly reached for any piece of paper in sight.  She stood stunned as I wrote the word "Cancer" down...

We have read that Abel offered up a lamb to God, and that God was pleased with him for offering it.  Noah also offered burnt offerings after he came out of the ark, and Abraham himself had built three alters in the land of Canaan and offered sacrifices upon them all.

But one day God spoke to Abraham, and said, Abraham.  He answered, Here am I.  Then God said, Take now thy son, thine only Son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee unto the land of Moriah and offer him up there as a burnt offering. (The Story of the Bible, 38)

There is little that can honestly, truly, without a doubt ruin our day.  Whatever with the cliche bad hair - of course said by a guy who keeps it short anyway.  Whatever with the spilling coffee on your new clothes because I've learned that ice can rub it away.  And whatever with a friend calling off plans due to his procrastination  with school work because we've all done that to each other before.  But I have to say that getting a call from a doctor you just met days earlier regarding your well being and that weird thing growing on your tongue who so nonchalantly says, "Mr. Kelly, our suspicions were true.  You have cancer..."  He talked like it was the normal thing. Well, that's pretty much a mood killer plus some. Think your new car getting totaled meets iPod Touch falling into a messy toilet meets your not being allowed to say, "I love you. It'll all be alright so don't worry," to the one girl you love because you're being deported back home only to take a very sobering flight after all your dreams were dashed. (True story) Combine all those and it's still not as bad as hearing the word "You" mixed in with "Cancer."

Now, I can only imagine what Abraham was going through...

I laughed.  I - I didn't know what to do.  Becky's face was sullen.  She just hugged me.  She did what any friend would do.  I think I was still in shock because I was laughing.  It's not even like I meant to laugh.  My body simply reacted to the moment.

I still didn't know what to do...

So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac.  And he cut the wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him. (Genesis 22: 3)

Trust.  It must have been trust.  Why else would Abraham do what he did?  I wonder if he got much sleep that night?  Maybe he was restless.  Maybe he questioned God.  Maybe he questioned himself asking, "Why am I really following this Divine Being?  This Almighty God who I thought was all-loving, who I thought would always protect me and protect my family, protect the anyone I love; this God, who above all else, wants to pour into His Creation, wants His Garden-Relationship back, and wants whatever it will take to see that not one single person perishes?  How can he possibly be asking me to give up my one and only son, the son whom I love? No...no...n..."

The moment I got on the phone with my dad all the tears came out.  The moment I pressed "Send," my breaths probably started getting caught in my throat with my heart beat quickening a bit and my eyes welling up.  It was a proper choked-up session.  I don't remember a word he said.  But I know his words were calm.  I know they were that constant fatherly protection like, "It'll be okay son.  You just scraped up your knee, that's all.  No need to worry anymore.  I'm right here.  You'll be okay.  I promise."

Maybe those were the peaceful words Abraham heard arguing back with him in his head that fateful night.

"Trust," God must have been telling him.

But it's not an easy thing, trust that is.  It will wreck your world, then proceed to rebuild it in more magnificent ways.  Trust will wear you down to your bare bones, but then will hold fast and true bringing you new life in colors you've never beheld before. Trust elicits the deepest depths of a man to communicate with the highest heights of the Divine in order to see our way, not only through trials and tribulations, but also through life itself on a day to day level.

A.P. Peabody wrote:

God's providence in all the past invites and exhorts us to implicit trust in him for all time to come.  In our littleness and lowliness, we may feel that we are individually the objects of the divine interest, care, and love; that "he knoweth our path and our lying down, and is acquainted with all our ways."  We may dismiss care; for he careth for us.  We may repose even on the mountain billows; for "the Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea." We need never apprehend for the morrow, or cast looks of doubt or fear along the path of life; for we are assured that the pillar of cloud will shield us by day, and the fire-signal guide us by night." (1847)

Here we have "trust" spoken about as inherent in our nature.  We are inbuilt to trust in God. Because of the God of the Universe's "providence."  Because of His ever-being in all places at all times.

I wouldn't mind a glimpse into those dark hours Abraham had to endure.  To see how he acted. To see his emotions run rampart.  To see all of his doubts and fears play out in his facial expressions. And then to see the sunrise.  To see Abraham rise early from whatever sleep or lack thereof he experienced. And then to see him go, saddle his donkey for the three day journey ahead; get two men to accompany him completely ignorant of what they were about to embark on; and then, finally, to go gather his son, his one and only son whom he loves where he'd lead him up a mountain, place him on an altar, and sacrifice him.

Trust.

Trust.

God must have kept reassuring Abraham to, as simply as he could, "Trust..."

I went outside to call Sorrel.  Her number seemed much longer this time around.  I sat on the sidewalk. It was like my legs didn't want to hold me up anymore.  As hard as the concrete wall was, it was a pillow to my head.  The phone rang.  What would I tell her?

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them...(Matthew 6: 25&6)

And yet your heavenly Father provides for them.

And yet your heavenly Father keeps them safe.

And yet your heavenly Father protects you, watches over you, guides you, makes level your path and loves you to the greatest extent of love itself.  Because, "are you not of more value?" (Matthew 6:26)

The most beautiful picture we are given thus far in this Genesis account is of Abraham rising early to obey his God, to trust his God.

How could Abraham do this?  How could he kill his own dear son?  Yet God told him to do it; Abraham heard him speak.  He knew that he should do whatever God said, and he knew also that even if Isaac were killed and burned on the alter, so that nothing was left but his ashes, God could take these ashes and make him alive again as he had been before.  (The Story of the Bible, 38)

JESUS WILL PROVIDE FOR ALL OF YOUR NEEDS.

That's what the bumper sticker of the car in front of us said as I pulled out of Starbucks with mom and Joanne.  Going on seven months later, I look back and see how true that bumper sticker was.  And how perfect it was that day I found out about my cancer. And I'm not one who pays attention to those silly identity tag lines on the backs of cars.  If I do notice, it's by chance and I write it off.  Not this one.  Now it will forever be a symbol of trust for me when I share this story.  Because God was faithful to me even if it was by way of a bumper sticker message.  

God was faithful.  Not once did He forsake me.  Not once did he leave me out to dry.  Not once did He leave my side.  Not once.

This was the God Abraham knew.  This was the reassurance.  This was the Divine Trust, which caused him to rise early in the morning, prepare for the trip and gather his son, his one and only son whom he loved.

And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son.  And he took in his hand the fire and the knife. So they went both of them together.  And Isaac said to his father Abraham, "My father!"  And he said, "Here am I, my son." He said, "Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering? Abraham said, "God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son." (Genesis 22: 6-8)

God saved me March 9th, 2009 after a ten-hour surgery.  We got to the hospital early.  I didn't sleep the whole night.  I couldn't.  As much as I trusted God, I was scared for my life, literally.  I didn't know what to expect.

Psalm 23:

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall

not want.

He makes me lie down in green 

pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley 

of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall

follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the

Lord

forever.

"I love you baby.  I'll always be waiting for you, down the hall or by your bedside.  I'm waiting for you.  I pray you will see extraordinary things while they operate, but whether you remember them now or never or one day, know that you spent time with God. I'll see you sooner than you think.  And I'll kiss those beautiful eyes of yours and beat you at Mexican Dominos.  I love you, I love you, I love you. Forever and ever.  Enjoy your time with God and come back to me soon."

Sorrel had written me a note and gave it to me while I awaited surgery.  They said I came out smiling. I'll believe them.  Maybe I did meet with God while I was on that table.  Or maybe it was because she was my first sight when I came to.  My beautiful sweetheart.  My future wife. But no matter the reason, God was faithful to me.  I was still living. Still waking breathing running (soon) coming going (soon).  For now, it was all good.

My salvation came somewhere in those ten hours.  I'm not talking about giving my life over to Christ for the very first time type of salvation.  I'm talking about God doing what he does best: saving those in need, saving to whatever ends someone needs to be saved.  From whatever complication comes in life. This is the Divine Intimate being our shepherd, giving us rest, restoring our soul, and making it so that we need not fear in the sight of bad times or at the foot of our enemies.  This salvation-type is our God being our everything at all times with the promise of always being with Him, just as we found out in Psalm 23.

When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.  Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son.  But the Angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, "Abraham, Abraham!"  And he said, "Here am I."  He said, "Do not lay a hand on the boy or do anything to him." (Genesis 22: 9-12)

Trust in God requires every single minute detail of our being.  Withholding nothing.  No matter where you are in life, no matter what comes your way, sometimes all you have is your trust in God.  Because there are some places you will travel in life where no one else can go with you.  Just you, a nurse, and another stranger-patient walking through those doors that lead to a lonely cold hallways.  And you will look back.  You will watch them for as long as you can catching small glimpses as the doors swing open and shut.  And you will want to be back there with them making hugs last if only for seconds longer.  Soon you will have turned the corner making them disappear like some cruel magic trick.  

So you are only left with a trust in this Divine Being you cannot see while the anesthesiologist preps you for surgery and asks, "Have any of your relatives ever died on the table?"  As if she just asked that. Not cool!  It's not like I'm already wicked messed up over willingly injuring myself all for the sake of my good health.

Your trust in God will trump the roller coaster of emotions you're experiencing in that one moment. Because trust in God will lead to life, a better life if I might add.

And they brought him to a place called Calvary, which was a little way outside the gates of Jerusalem.  They nailed his hands and his feet to the cross and crucified him. While they were crucifying him Jesus prayed for them, saying, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!  He meant that they did not know how great their sin was in crucifying him, the Son of God - or how fearful the punishment would be.  And they gave him vinegar to drink mixed with gall. This was given to persons who were crucified to make them sleep, and feel their pains less.  But when Jesus tasted it he would not drink, because he was suffering those pains for us, that we might be forgiven, and he was willing to bear them all...(The Story of the Bible, 616)

A ram was provided for Abraham that day, sparing him from sacrificing his son.  Then 4,000 years later God provided Himself for a lamb to spare us the separation of son and daughter from Heavenly Father.

So tonight, like I said before, I stand in wonderment of our Divine Intimate for I am living more than I ever have before and all it took was some trust on my part; God did the rest.

And that is my story of how trust leads to salvation.

Foster, Charles. Story of the Bible. Philadelphia: Charles Foster Co, 1873. Print.

Peabody, A. P. Sermons designed to Furnish Comfort and Strength to the Afflicted. Cambridge: Metcalf and Company, 1847. Print.

Thanks Jerry (page 4)

I guess the inevitable finally came.  And you know, I'm actually cool with it.  Nearly a week has passed since our beach binge-ing escapade .  I bet Mike's back in Florida, but I didn't get to say "Bye" so a phone call will suffice.  Eddie's back up on the North Shore and Joe's gone disappearing again.  I'll just have to ask his dad how he's doing on Sunday as I always do.

Our separate lives are back to the normal we all know.

I have no reason not to look forward to the future because of the possibility that they will not play a major role in it.  They've already played a major role in my life and it's helped shape me into the man I am today.  I get to look forward to seeing them at my wedding or receiving a phone call the day after my first child is born.  Hey, maybe we'll even go back to Onset Bay late at night, light up some cigars and celebrate together for where God has taken each one of us in life.

We all have a different calling in life and that's me not talking in oober spiritual terms.  But it's true. Each one of us is drawn to a different path.  We all have our little quirks and nuances that tug us in different directions.  It's the identity that we fall into, find, create for ourselves - or however you want to put it - that changes our course in the subtlest of ways.  It's even our faults, not just our successes, that define us.  We are a dynamic people.

And I have to admit, we are a fickle people as well. One who embraces the idea of change, but when change comes upon us, most of the time, we want nothing  to do with it.  And we are a control-freak people.  One not fully accepting of the change at hand unless we've written some of its bylaws.

I saw us all changed the other night.  I didn't like it then.  I'm still not sure if I like it now.  But I'm accepting of it.  And I'm actually excited, to a certain extent, to see the outcomes of our lives. You know, anything's possible.  So maybe we'll be the group that defies Time's separating us and do more than send a Hallmark card during the holidays. Maybe we'll live near each other again one day, or find ourselves attending the same church and reconnect like we were all 13 again going to youth group for the very first time.

I don't know what God has in store for us or even what He has going on for me.  This whole deal with me not having a heaven-sent billboard with a massive neon arrow and subtitles pointing and telling me where to go used to be a big bother.  I just wanted to know the next step.  I'm not too put off by it now.  Guess I feel semi-on-my-own though.

The other night Mike was the one leading the way to Sandy's.  He didn't care if there was a so-called, most likely self-titled security guard there.  He just went.  No questions asked.  That's how Mike is. Me, on the other hand, I was one of the ones - quote, "squeamishly" end quote - falling in line behind him thinking, "Well, if anything goes wrong I don't want to be the one getting in trouble."

And I've always done that.  This is one way the group has worked so well.  I've always been cautious and done the "What-Ifs?"  Mike's step one has always been, "Go for it.  See what happens.  And if anything goes wrong, that's when we need to think of the What-Ifs?"

Guess I need to find that gap-filler for this dynamic now that we're all moving thousands of miles apart. Here's a good start though:

The steps of a man are established by

the Lord.

(Psalm 37:23)

Thanks Jerry (page 3)

The joking was a mix of crass and nostalgic that night.  And even crass may be exaggerating it.  We fell back into our old selves, literally.  Our jokes ranged from sex to more sex just like the adolescent boys, I dare say, we've barely matured from.

And the stories came out too.  Joe tried pawning off the time when - and this sounds really odd and I don't remember why, but that's my disclaimer - we handcuffed him to the leg of a china cabinet.  Oh, it gets better. Then, apparently, we proceeded to throw down Hershey Kisses, which he would attempt retrieving via tongue and mouth since we made a "No Hands Allowed" rule.  We probably suckered him into this, in retrospect, humiliating game by saying we'd all do it.  Oh Joe.

Good times.

The bar was empty where we sat.  But the beer bottles kept collecting on the counter tops.  The rains still came howling down with the winds.  All the traffic had stopped rolling into the beach property.  I guess now that it was raining no one wanted to venture outside.  But it was a beautiful night in beholding such mystifying power.  Those that stayed safe in their homes couldn't have known what they were missing: Divine Power ravaging a civilized world in a completely harmless way like it was sport or some sort of reminder that the Divine still lives.

Those who aren't looking for such reminders will always take the heavy rains with their howling winds and crashing waves for granted.

Amidst all of our nonsense I still caught a glimpse of God's moving.

I was too quiet for the others though.  Mike finally asked why.  I told him I was cold, which I was.  And I don't know if he was searching for a better answer. So I also told him I was tired.  "You know, my energy level's still not up to par.  Cancer and all. Too many drugs to count. Lovely side effects."

I don't know what I was, though.  Or why I was so quiet.  It was partially for those two reasons.  

I finally called it quits after delaying past midnight.  My own silence had gotten to me too. Eddie Rand walked back to the car with me.  We talked, and what of?  Who knows.  I was so lost in my own silence that I probably spit out words mechanically.  I dropped him off at Sandy's after doubling back there. Then I was off.

A new memory was built that night.  I'm sure it won't trump others we had together.  But it will stick in the forefront of my mind because that was the first night I felt like we were actually going our separate ways.

And that's sad.

Mike lives in Florida now.  Married, with a beautiful little girl, doing the whole military thing. Learning to fly planes and learning the honor in defending his country.

Joe is also married and has a little girl who, I swear, has the biggest smile in the whole wide world. They're still in town learning how to make it as a young couple in such uncertain times.  But seeing them succeed is a comfort to me because I will soon be traveling a similar course.

Ed's quitting his job soon.  And he has to be one of the bravest among us to give up the comfortable and pursue uncertainty.  There's no doubt in my mind that he'll figure out his dream life and live it.

And me, there's no need to talk about me.  I'm just happy for the good times we've had together.  Maybe one day we'll get around to those monthly breakfast dates we set ten years back.  Dave's Diner would be perfect for those new memories, but I won't count on it.

I'll tell you though, I'd still do anything for those guys.  And I'm confident they'd say the same thing. That is part of the bond we hold.

Nothing, save God Himself, could break that.

Thanks Jerry (page 2)

Piss-pouring rain made us scatter to the cars.  Some took the ramp up from the beach.  Others jumped the storm wall.  I took that latter route, but left my beer to get watered down.

We had all gone to Richard's Wine & Spirits after dinner to get some drinks.  You know the place right on the corner of the Old 44, a jump after the lights, and a stone's throw away from the waterfront?  It wasn't your typical after dinner drinks soiree.  None of us were dressed up in any suit and tie.  The girls didn't have on any cocktail dresses.  But we were a bit more refined than your typical Saturday night motley crew. Emphasis on a bit.

Earlier we had come to the conclusion that bar hopping was out of the picture.  Everywhere was too packed.  And Cabby Shack was charging a measly  $5 cover, but we were all too cheap to pay up.  We figured we were giving the house a free drink on us if we paid.  Deliberation on the famous "What do we do now" scenario took its normal slow route.  Ever since we were all teenager's hanging out at Eddie's house it had been that way.  Why would normalcy suddenly change now?

The change in normal is what got us here in the first place, though.  Over the years it's been a slow viscous moving change.  We've all gone our separate ways.  Maybe only 100 miles out from each other at any one point except when I decided to jump the Pond. And, for the most part, we've been a good group of friends to one another.  We do share that unique bond of lifelong friends and we will always share it.  

But no matter the bond we hold, the combination of Time's progression and our, quote, "growing up" changes what used to be normal.

I dashed for my car as the rain drops became bucket-fulls.  There was no escaping how soaked I'd become in only a few seconds.  At least I wasn't alone.  We added to the thumping rains with our huffing and puffing after the dash.  And what was worse, we didn't even end up with the beer in our car.  One of the others must have grabbed it.  Eddie Rand even braved the flailing rains to go in search of the drinks.  He came back empty handed besides the trash we left on the beach in light of the sudden deluge.

The infamous deliberations were struck up again.  This time in a more Three Stooges manner with three drivers and three cars trying to figure out how to shimmy next to one another so we could talk with our windows down.  

Sandy's Beach Club was right there.  That would be our next stop.  Problem was, this lonely little shack actually hired security  to sit there, toke up, and do a little fishing whilst on the job.

Problem easily averted.

While half of us walked up acting like we really didn't care about security, the other half of us squeamishly fell in line behind them wondering if this so-called guard actually had some authority.  He didn't. We offered him a beer and like throwing a slab of meat to a guard dog, he was content and made distracted for a little while.

Finally, under cover we could sit in the open air marquee and watch as the outskirts of Hurricane Bill's power still thrashed Plymouth Beach.  And for the rest of the night I remained silent.  I wouldn't have been able to tell you why I fell so quiet, but the moment I stepped in my car to drive home I knew why...

(To be continued...)

Thanks Jerry

I got in the car and as I drove I felt a feeling I haven't felt in three years.  It was wonderful, let me tell you that.  It rested right in the pit of my stomach.  An excitement pushing on my insides.  An adventurous longing, the kind that sees a mountain and jumps up and down in jubilation, like a child, at the sheer fact that I will get the opportunity to scale the heights of the heavens.  Nothing on that mountain could tear me down from the emotional high I've already climbed.  Nothing could stop me from reaching the summit, save its own Creator.

Three years back I boarded a plane en route to England.  Said my goodbyes to the parents after waiting with them for as long as can be.  Amber was there too.  As I left she gave me her, "I'm so glad to see you" hug as if we hadn't seen each other in ages when in fact I hung out with her the day before yesterday.  Those are the best kinds of hugs to give anyone.

And I nearly cry every time I think about it.  It wasn't a sad time in my life at all.  I would be returning later that winter, only four months away. But I love my family so much.  And my friends, of course I love them too.  This admittance of love goes unsaid all too often.

My memory's not that good to tell you detail for detail every bit of that flight.

I sat next to a more elderly woman.  She was returning home after visiting family in the States. I don't think we actually spoke with one another till the flight was nearing its end.  But I remember her telling me I'll love London.  The big city lights. Bustling roads like all other cities.  Just this would be different because they drove on the opposite side of the road.  Plus they have those black cabs; so cool.

She went on to tell me that I must make it to the seaside.  Go to Brighton with its pier.  Grab fish&chips from yesterday's newspaper.

She was so nice.

For most of the journey I sat back listening to some specialty playlist I made the night before and in complete wonderment of a 7-Day Project.  That same feeling I had this morning in the car was with me on that 3,000-mile trek three years ago.

All I can surmise is it being an adventurous feeling. One that has a tang of fearlessness.  And that reckless abandon, that tackle-the-world-all-in-a-day-no-matter-the-challenge, that completely animalistic-wild-roaming-between-jungles-and-open-range-without-any-caution-to-the-wind type of fearlessness can only come from a Maker who is just as brilliantly mad in such a courageous way.  How else can fearlessness hold such a great depth of peace where no obstacle can faze the untamed spirit?

I mean, nothing was going to get in the way of smiles and 70-mile an hour highway winds.  Nothing.

I wonder if this was the peace Jerry felt that night we talked?  Maybe God recognized my jealousy then. And maybe He did something about it.  Honestly, there's no other person-spirit-thing-God-Divine Being that could account for this unwavering peace.  Maybe this is God's way of telling me, "Remember that love you found in London?  Well, here it is again, Stateside."

What I know now is that I don't know what the next step is.  And I'm cool with that.

Thanks Jerry.