August 30, 2010 § 1 Comment
“Where does it come from? This quest, this need to solve life’s mysteries when the simplest of questions can never be answered. Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? perhaps we’d be better off not looking at all, not delving, not yearning, but that’s not human nature, not the human heart, that is not why we are here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference… to change the world… to dream of hope. Never certain of who we will meet along the way… Who among this world of strangers will hold our hand, share our hearts, and share the pain of trying [to change the world]” – Heroes
Where have you turned, where are you looking for the help you need? Who is holding your hand? Where are you searching for purpose? Are you an alcoholic, gay, anorexic, abusive? Are you lost? We have this thing inside of us, deep in our souls that craves purpose and belonging… We know that there is more to it than this… We want to change the world or at least save it. But we are so wrecked by it…. so destroyed by the very world we want to save… that we lose sight of the calling… the yearning of our souls to be needed.
Bear with me for a second… Lets dream together for a moment. Lets dream of a world filled with love. What would it be like if no one ever stole anything, or murdered, or lied? What would it be like if there was not one homeless person, not one hungry person… What if relationships never ended… hearts were never broken? What if no child was abandoned or aborted…. What if no one was lonely, but in constant community? If this was the case would there ever be a suicide… war… prison? What if… Some would call this heaven, but what if Christ is offering a heaven on earth. Is it within reach? Can we even begin to head in this direction? We can… all we have to do is humble ourselves… and hope for such a destiny. We each have a role to play… We are each given gifts… and at the same time we are each given crap, stuff that we have to survive or have survived. Can we use the crap to help someone else through theirs?
I know a guy… He went through Hell… Most of us can say we have been through hell… what that means to you may be different from what it means to someone else… There is even a song about it.. It goes something like this:
“Well you know those times when you feel like there’s a sign there on your back? Says I don’t mind if you kick me. Seems like everybody has things going from bad to worse. You’d think they can’t get worse than that and then they do. You step off the straight and narrow, and you don’t know where you are. Use the needle of your compass to sew up your broken heart, ask directions from a genie in a bottle of Jim Beam, and she lies to you that’s when you learn the truth. If you’re going through hell, keep on going, don’t slow down. If you’re scared, don’t show it, you might get out before the devil even knows you’re there. Well I’ve been deep down in that darkness. I’ve been down to my last match. Felt a hundred different demons breathing fire down my back, and I knew that if I stumbled I’d fall right into the trap that they were laying. But the good news
is there are angels everywhere out on the street. Holding out a hand to pull you back up on your feet. The one’s that you’ve been dragging for so long. You’re on your knees, you might as well be praying, guess what I’m saying?” ~ Rodney Atkins
This guy… that went through hell… He made it out alive… The only thing that was different for Him than the guy in the song… is that the devil knows His name… and he will never forget it. His name is Jesus Christ… and He went to Hell for you… and he said a few things that should help us get through it… And the funny thing is… if we listened to Him and were capable of really understanding what He is saying… that world that we were dreaming about… would cease to be a dream… it would be reality. That’s why I must say that if there is one true God and that His Son, Jesus of Nazareth, was God on earth… He knows what we are all going through and we can’t deny that if we did what he told us to… we would live in a world… that was Heaven!
August 27, 2010 § Leave a comment
I am amazed by the Bible sometimes.
They say get rich
He says give it all away
They say defend your honor
He says turn the other cheek
They say let them die in prison
He says visit them
They say give them what they deserve
He says pray for them
They say the powerful will have everything
He says the poor will inherit the Kingdom
They say go with the crowd
He says go the lonely way
They say follow your heart
He says guard your heart
They say don’t worry be happy
He says you will be happy when life sucks
They say get well
He say’s the sick will be saved
They say get revenge
He say’s never quit forgiving
They say love the lovable
He say’s love until it kills you
They say move on
He say’s blessed are those who mourn
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
Alive, I’m Christ’s messenger; dead, I’m His bounty. Life versus more life! I can’t lose.
August 24, 2010 § Leave a comment
Your words drip onto the pages of my life like the wax of a candle, burning all through the night. The words so fresh and so warm, formable and exotic, they fall onto the dry paper and within in seconds they are hard, they cannot move and they cannot be changed. Sometimes I look at the pages of my life. I skim over the chicken scratches that are my own, but I find my self focused on the pages that were written in such beautiful penmanship, obvious to anyone that they are not my words. Some fell so beautifully onto my pages, others are simply there. They are stained into my pages like scars on the face of a Spartan warrior. Some words still fresh enough to wish that I could wipe them clean off, but as with the wax of a candle, it’s bottom layer is immovable. My attempts would be in vain, for it will only make a bigger mess.
In this life, it is when we love the most that we are hurt the deepest. When we allow others to write on our pages, we open that book and we lay it on the table, so willing, so open, and vulnerable to their words. We want them; we want those words lightly and passionately laid on our pages. To see one write on your pages is like watching an artist paint, laying the scene stroke by stroke. How beautiful.
It’s when the words we don’t want to hear come flowing onto our pages like a volcanic eruption. Un-prepared, we scatter to close the book, to grab it and run away with it so the wax can’t be spilt. However, the very nature of words dictates otherwise. Our books, so open for so long that sometimes we cannot close them… in fact we beg and plead for more in hopes that a few more strokes of that pen will revive the story. It doesn’t, it’s just more wax spilled, more pages stained. The eruption of worlds scolds and tatters the pages like molten lava destroys a mountain, and creates eternal scars.
Your words are mine forever. They have created their own valleys and burned paths that will be visited for years to come. Mostly by me but occasionally there will be the tourist who wants to see the laden land, scared by your word-lava.
My book is a vast land, filled with many unwritten pages and un-scolded wildlife. Soon to be written on with life, beautiful life that accompanies the stains with artistic sweeps of a pen, creating colors unknown and ideas never seen. My book is not finished and I am not the author. May your pen be gentle and the wax of your candle mark beauty and not suffering, for I will remember these moments, they are mine for all time.
August 11, 2010 § 3 Comments
She was beautiful. From the day she was born she had never seen a mirror. She is an adult now, in her early twenties, and she has never seen herself. She has no idea what she looks like. All she sees is the reactions of others when they see her, but more so what others look like. She does not know what beauty is. She knows what makes her feel beautiful, and she knows who makes her feel beautiful. She compares her beauty to the beauty of others. When she is told, she feels her soul dancing in the moonlight under a million stars, and her heart sores to the sky and she is suddenly and momentarily free. She is free from every thought and every haunting fear of loneliness and meaninglessness. It’s an addictive flow of lifting chemicals in her brain, but more significantly it brings her to a new place. She feels as if she is safe, as if no one could ever harm her or bring her down, for she is beautiful. Her beauty is her identity; it’s all she is. When she feels beautiful she feels at home with her self. However she spends most of her time alone and lost inside of her own prison of insignificance, she feels like a ghost who not only goes unseen but would do whatever it costs to make sure no one see’s her.
She can’t see her for herself. She can tell herself all day that she is beautiful, but the world wins out. It is a losing game. She desperately wants to be seen, and judged worthy of all things lovely. She craves to be the most beautiful princess in the entire world, but she cannot find herself. She wonders her mind in sleepless nights, opening every door and looking under every bush, just to find that one thing that will show her who she is. She has yet to discover a mirror.
Evelyn looks to men to find her beauty and her meaning, but they never seem to measure up. The void in her soul is never quite filled. “There is just something missing, it’s just not quite there”, she says. “He must not be the one, there must be another who can sweep me off my feet and take me to that place of ultimate intimacy, where my heart sings forever the songs of love and beauty.” She turns to her wonderful dresses and royal attire that make her feel as though she is the Cinderella of the night. She wears them out, the expensive robes and jewelry fit only for a princess no longer feel the part, in fact now she feels somewhat like an imposter. “I don’t deserve beauty, the world keeps telling me that I am not worth it.” This is just one of the million thoughts running and jumping and coming as quickly as they fade into darker, deeper self-torturing thoughts.
Then one night, in the middle of her dreaded sleep, she awoke to a frightening clatter. She looked all around the room but it was too dark to see a thing. She reached over and lit her small candle… She slowly picked it up and waved it around her room trying to discover the culprit of this frightful awakening. She saw an older woman standing in the corner. This woman was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. Evelyn felt as thought the woman’s immensely stunning beauty would make her feel inferior, but to her surprise she felt perfectly suitable in her own skin. She timidly asked the woman what she was doing in her room. “Oh Evelyn, I am here to show you something beautiful.” Evelyn held back every obvious return of words. “Surely there is nothing more beautiful than you…” a long pause in her voice as she tried to figure out what to call this intruder of the night. “… I’m sorry, what is your name?” she asked, feeling somewhat awkward. “My name is Alethia”, the woman said in the softest yet most meaningful voice Evelyn had ever heard. “I am here to show you who you really are.” Evelyn got out of her bed, lugging a newly lit lantern with her. She stumbled over to the woman and almost suddenly saw something very strange. She stared at for a few moments before being interrupted by Alethia. “Do you know what you are looking at?” Evelyn had no idea… she couldn’t even begin to understand who she was looking at. It was as if there was another person in the room, only this person was somehow more amazing and more beautiful than Alethia. “Who is that”, she asked in fear and wonderful amazement. “That is you, my dear child, that is how I see you. You see Evelyn, I made you and everything I make is perfect, just the way it is. And you, Life, are beautiful!” Evelyn looked at the woman very confused and uttered one word as though it was a question, “Life?” “Yes my dear, that is what your name means, I chose that name for you because I knew that this day would come and that you would finally find life, life and more life! You know who you are now.” Evelyn asked with a child like curiosity, “And what does your name mean?” Alethia looked at her as though she couldn’t think of a better question she could have asked, “My name mean ‘Truth’, because I am the one and only person in the entire universe who can show you how beautiful you truly are. You will never find true beauty in anyone but me, and no one can ever allow you to feel this way about yourself without me.”
Evelyn had finally seen herself in a mirror. You see she had a mirror her whole life, but it was by no means a true reflection, all these mirrors did was show her what she didn’t have and what was wrong according to what everything else was telling her. But when she finally saw herself in Alethia’s (Truth’s) mirror, she saw her true, deep-rooted beauty that she could only find in the perfect mirror.
Eve’s beauty was not something defined by men, or by the world in general, it was defined by her creator. Eve was perfect by design, from head to toe, inside and out her beauty was incomparable to the moon and the stars. The beauty of a sunset after a light rain in the early evening was nothing compared to her skin reflecting a softly lit candle. Her eyes were like a million stars shinning brightly on the darkest of nights. Her identity was no longer in those things or people that made her feel beautiful, it was in her creator, Truth.
Now that her identity was in Truth he could see her. She was the girl of his dreams. Her beauty made his soul dance on beaches, constantly slammed by waves of new and glorious emotions he’d never felt before. His identity in his creator, truth, was now coupled with hers and the fireworks soared into the sky in beautiful worship of coupled fulfillment to their creator. Adam and Evelyn were gifts from God to one another; they were one another’s mirrors. But when Evelyn looked into Adam’s mirror it didn’t point back at her, it pointed right to Alethia’s mirror, which reminded her constantly of her true beauty in her creator, God.
July 29, 2010 § 2 Comments
“In spring the snows will melt and the passes will open. Until that time, you are here.” – The Last Samurai
Have you ever had one of those days? Ok let’s be honest, sometimes they are weeks, or months or even entire seasons of life… seasons that are sometimes insurmountably beautiful or, more memorably, depressingly devastating. Those times in life where you go without answers, you live but have no idea why. These are the times in life where you sit under the starless night, staring at the moon through the towering trees, whimpering in death, hanging dry and fragile, and you ask whomever you can summon that one looming question. “Why the hell am I here?!” I have yet to have the moon, or anyone else for that matter, respond in any shape or sign.
I wonder sometimes if the answer would sound something like what Katsumoto said to Captain Algren in, The Last Samurai. “In spring the snows will melt and the passes will open. Until that time, you are here.” How smug and yet obvious this statement is. Until you leave you are here, and when you leave, you will be there, which at that time will be, “here”. You are where you are, and you cannot leave because you have far less control than you think you do. There are so many factors in life that press against us like a rushing current of ice-cold run-off waters. We fight against the current as if we think we are strong enough to actually slay the beast we call “circumstance”. Have you ever seen someone trying to swim up current in a white water rapid, the white making up for most of her existence? It’s sink or swim. “This could be a shipwreck on the shore, or we could sail away forevermore – This time it’s sink or swim.” Tyrone Wells
I am reminded of a wise old quester, who has seen and had everything. This King had all the sex, all the money, all the power, and the grace, all the kindness, all the food and drink he could possibly imagine and more. He was also given all the wisdom in the universe. He was said to be the richest most powerful and wise king to ever rule in the entire world and throughout all time. In his old, white-haired age, he concludes all his life as this, smoke being blown up his ass. “It’s all smoke!” he says. He has concluded that there is nothing no matter how hard you try, no matter what you get from life it ends up the same – we all die. A lot like Katsumoto said, King Solomon says you can’t change your life, all you can do is, “eat lots of good food, drink lots of great wine (beer), and be happy. You are not the king of your world, God is. Where you are is where He wants you to be, so until the snow melts and the passes clear, you are here.
Love God… (Eat)
Love others… (Drink)
Enjoy life…. (Be merry)
July 25, 2010 § 1 Comment
I arrived at the big gate. This particular gate was awesome in all ways imaginable. It was massive in size; it looked to be the heaviest moving thing I had ever seen. It would take the strongest, biggest beast you could imagine to open it. It was covered in the most beautiful stones I had ever seen, but somehow they resembled the art of a three year old hanging on his parent’s refrigerator, an innocent kind of beauty, being showed off to the universe. There was blood dripping freely and freshly from the very top of the gate, beginning to slowly drip further down the gate, it was oddly fashionable like something you would see on a t-shirt or in a club. I stood there, looking intently at this massive object, wondering to myself, “Why do I want to be in there”?
As I stood there with intrigue and fear mangled together like two honeymooners on their third night together, I was ripped from my raw porno of emotions by a soft yet commanding voice. The voice said, “Come, there is something I need to show you”. I was pretty sure at that point that there was nothing I’d rather see than what I was looking at, and yet it was as if I had no choice but to “go and see”. I honestly don’t remember the “go” part; for lack of better words to describe how I arrived here I will just say I was suddenly there. I was in a theatre, yes a movie theater… there was a huge platinum screen, when I say huge I mean the size of the sky, and when I say platinum I mean, literally platinum. I was alone in this seat, and yet I knew that every other soul I had ever known in my life was there with me.
The previews were weird, but that is not the point. The movie began to play. At first I was slightly grossed out. But as it played out I realized something. This was the story of my life. But I could feel the movie… like going to a 3D movie, only I could really feel all the emotions of every character in my story. It was at this point, the beginning of my story that I was overwhelmed with just about every emotion possible, as I could feel what my parents felt at the first moment they laid eyes on me. At the same time I could see where this was going, which made me want to crap my pants and run out of the place, but really, where would I run to?
The beginning of the movie went by pretty fast with very little detail but as I, the main character, moved through life, I began to effect more people more deeply. Strangely I could not feel my own emotions but only those of the others in my story and only in the ways that I affected them. I was not too upset about that because I was all too familiar with my own feelings. The more the story progressed the more it hurt. The more tears fell down my face, the more fear and insecurity grew, the older I got the more affect I had on others. Yet, the painful emotion that I caused others was somehow relieved with a new understanding of how I had been affected along the way, as though this movie was revealing my heart.
It was at this point that I realized that I was in so many other stories as well. There were hundreds, if not thousands of people sitting in their own theaters watching their stories and feeling all the things they had caused me to feel. There was some freedom in this revelation. I got to see the wonderful things that I made some people feel. That meal that I shared with the homeless man, which I saw as relatively insignificant, was in reality one of the most wonderful moments in his life. That kid, Timmy, that I befriended in 4th grade, I had no idea how worthless he felt and how alone he was until the day I went to his house to play with his model trains. I hated those trains… Oh, but then there was the girl in high school that had the biggest crush on me, I would joke with her and make stupid comments about her just to get some laughs. It struck her in the deepest of ways and destroyed herself value for the rest of her life. I never saw her after high school but now I knew, she ended up marrying a man who beat her for the rest of her life because she didn’t think she was worth anything better… I caused that, and I felt all of her pain right there in my theatre.
After watching my story unfold and all of the effects I had on others I was drained. I had felt every emotion possible and then some. I had cried harder and deeper than ever. I had felt emptier than I knew a human soul could feel. I had felt the despair that I caused. I laughed and I smiled and I loved and I got to feel all the wonderful things that I gave to others as well. As the credits began to roll, every name of every character scrolled across the screen. At the very end of the list was one name. It was bigger than any of the others and it made all the other names disappear. It was a name of God, one that I did not recognize but somehow knew. It was then that the Judge appeared on a throne and all He said to me was, “Do you think that you deserve eternal goodness or eternal damnation?”
I had never had such a question asked of me. Of course normally I would laugh and say something ridiculous in response to this kind of question. But this was no joking matter. It was as if I had to answer the question, but really had no choice in the actual outcome. The silence in this courtroom was deadening, I had never felt such utter silence, as if the only thing that could move the air was my heavy breathing. How could I possible answer this question without lying or risking my eternal demise? Amidst the sickening silence I suddenly felt two more people in the room. One felt simply like wind, moving constantly. Something like sitting in a car that’s been baking in the hot sun for hours and then you turn on the air conditioning, it’s merely air moving, but yet so comforting and refreshing. She was a subtle movement of refreshing air, and she took my salty tears off of my beaten face and placed them into a beautiful vase. I could all of the wounds that caused my tears, and as she took them she not only took the tears, but also my wounds. They went into the bottle as if they were a prized possession.
The other was a terrorist-looking man, with a farmers tan. He stood there with his five-o-clock shadow, looking at me with eyes, the kind of eyes that reflect the hell that He’s been through and yet the power and strength of a humble King. They came and stood by my side, and as they did the silence turned to deafening sounds of thunder and singing, something like the beginning of a rock concert when the subwoofers first kick in and the crowed starts to scream. I was forced to my knees like a child being forced out-of-the-way of danger. Then it became silent again as the terrorist look-a-like raised His hands and showed the judge the scars on his hands. He said, “Father, He is mine. Forgive Him for he didn’t know what he was doing. Remember, father, what I did for him.
Then the moving air spoke, like the leaves of a thousand trees rustling in the forest. I had no idea that I could understand tree talk, but I heard it with something inside of me, not my ears, but with my soul. I heard Her say, “Father he is mine. His heart is broken and pure, he wanted to be ours, he wanted to be connected to something better, something filling and intimate, and all that he did was an attempt at reconciliation with purity. Forgive him and only look at his heart.”
The judge could no longer see me; He could only see what the wind and the blood stained Lamb allowed Him to see, which I admit was more them and less of me. They had known me more than I knew myself and they had been a part of me my entire life, from the very start to the very… start. This was not the end; on the contrary it seemed to be the very beginning of what my life was meant to be. There I was at my end, on my knees, under the wings of Life, undeserving of such a rescue. The judge then said, “He is Ours, and He will be with us forever. From this moment on We will be One, forever.”
April 7, 2009 § Leave a comment
Ridding a public bus across the country could closely compare to jumping too high and accidentally being thrust into space and falling quickly to a new planet far off in a different galaxy, only to find that you feel closer to humanity and reality with the ‘aliens’ than you did near those you are comfortable with.
What an experience…
I need to tell you the story of my bus ride…
I was offered a ride to Manhattan Kansas by a friend, he was traveling through Manhattan and on to other places. I took him up on this offer as I was jobless at the time and had only worse things to do. It was a great little road trip, even though I was stopped by a Kansas State Trooper. I just had a few days to hang out in Manhattan and then he was to pick me up and take me back to Colorado.
Well, as you may have guessed I was abandoned. Literally, I was left there to wrought like a dead fish wrapped in yesterdays new paper. (Thanks Erwin) So I was forced to locate a ride to Colorado so as to not make camp in Manhattan for more than a few days.
Admittedly it was a great trip…
So to make a short story long, while waiting in Manhattan for my ride that left 7 days after I was supposed to be back in Colorado, I started calling around to see if I could find out what happened to my ride.
I’d like to explain this as best as possible but bare with me as I do not want to betray this person by telling you the details. He was causght in the middle of a serious life hiccup that restricted his ability to go anywhere. It was a horribly tough situation for him.
During my time, stranded in Kansas due to this horrible hiccup, I ran into an amazing man who was an old professor of mine. He asked what I was doing with my life and I explained that I was trying to be a cop and that it was very difficult for me to get a job anywhere right now. He told me that I really needed to meet a friend of his.
So I agreed to meet his friend Dick. unfortunately Dick didn’t show up. So my professor took down my phone number and passed it on to the Colonel, as I would soon learn to call him.
The Colonel latter called me and told me all about the Bossier Perish Sheriff’s Office in Bossier City Louisiana, and boy did he tell me everything I needed to know, probably way more.
I didn’t jump on the application as it was in Louisiana and I wasn’t sure I could even get there to take the battery of tests that they require. The Col. called me about a week later and said that He would be back in Manhattan for a few days and that he would like me to drive his truck from there to Bossier City and that he would set up all my testing and interviews for the following few days, and pay for my bus ticket back to Manhattan.
It took me about two days to figure out if this was worth my wile..
I took the opportunity, drove to Manhattan where I met his wife, loaded the pickup and headed off to Joplin to meet the Col. (Don’t ask why I was meeting him Joplin) We continued on to Bossier City, LA. Where I spent a week…
I underwent a dreadful battery of exams all within two days. First, a hurtful and very uncomfortable doctors visit for my physical (Seriously that Doc. really doesn’t get how sensitive the turn-your-head-and-caugh part of the male body is). Second, a psychological exam which consists of an IQ test, a personality profile test, a self opinion test, and an extremely awkward interview with a psychologist. (I refuse to explain why it was awkward) Third, a written reading and comprehension test. Fourth, a polygraph, take one, it sucks. Seriously, they want to know everything that you would never tell anyone, from the serious things like murder and rape (which didn’t apply to me) to all the weird little secrets that I think everyone has, and they KNOW if you are LYING about them. Talk about stressful. Fifth, an Oral Board interview with the Chief, two captains and the personnel officer. And last but not least a physical fitness test, which was not hard at all. (and I’m fat, which I just realized is one letter away from F-I-T, some trainer on Biggest Loser needs to use that.)
I got on a bus at the end of the second day. Exhausted, and ready to be home, headed for Texarcanna, AK to Fort Smith, AK, to Kansas City and then onto Manhattan. Leaving at 5 pm on Friday and arriving at 9:30 am on Saturday.
Can you feel it?
Can you understand what I am thinking when I get on this alien planet called Greyhound?
Every shady character you can imagine is on this bus. Big, little, black, white, old, young, toothless, vampires…
And somehow I feel that I am closer to the truth than ever before. Closer to reality, closer to God, closer to the fat lady next to me…
How is this?
Maybe it’s true that God came to be with the worst people, with the dirtiest sinners, the outcasts… the type of people that ride busses across the country. I love my life.. I love the adventures that God takes me on… And most of all I love, LOVE, who God is and what He does in my soul. When I picture God’s face, I picture a beautiful collage of ‘bus people’ that when looked at up close is simply several pictures of scary and broken people, but when you step back it’s a beautiful face, the most beautiful one you have ever seen.
GOD IS A BUS DRIVER!
DISCLAIMER: I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH OF THIS NOTE. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO END HERE… BUT IT JUST CAN’T
I write this on the bus that I just spoke of.
I felt that this whole story was being written by God. The chance of meeting the Col. and everything working out so seamlessly… My mother praying for me constantly.
I thought it was because God was leading me to a job at the sheriff’s office.
Maybe so… but now I know that there is a reason I am on this bus. There are two ladies sitting behind me. One of them is an older woman, probably 60 but she looks 80. The lack of teeth explains that. She is also the type that talks to herself in hopes that someone is listening. She mumbles and complains about her hip and back. She tells her story about the last bus that her bag didn’t fit in. She is a larger woman and she has large breasts that cover most of her body… I say this only because she has a see through shirt on and it is very disturbing and I want you to understand the type of person this is.
The other lady is also rather large. She is younger, probably 30 or so, and has somewhat of a desperate look. Oh by the way out of all her aunts and uncles and mom and dad and everyone in her family she is the only red head. She wares the really large, baggy, bright colored. flowery shirt that you may see hanging in your mothers closet from the late eighties early ninety’s .
I have no idea how the subject between these two, oh-so-talkative, ladies irrupted… They began talking about this life. The loneliness of it all, the desperation. The older lady, we’ll call her Berta, began to tell a bit of her story. (as to win the who’s life is worst contest) She said that about a year ago her sister died and less than a few months later her husband of 25 years dies on their wedding anniversary.
“I cried at the funeral, and I cried and the grave site”. she murmured. “I cried about three months later and that was it… I never cried again. I just gave up, it didn’t matter any more.” Berta said as she coughed like a 50 year smoker. As she continued I started to really lean in to hear her story. “Every time I tried to end it all someone came into the house and interrupted me so I couldn’t just do it right in front of them.” It was at the point that Berta decided there must be something God wants her to live for. “God just get me through the day and there’s too much dying”, she coughed again, “So knock it off God!”
The other woman, we’ll call her Brenda, joined the contest with a hint of compassion and brokenness wound together like weave. “I know how you feel”, she said with fear in her voice. “The only people who ever loved me were my daddy, and my fiance.” She slowed her voice as if a lump had developed in her throat. “They died in the same year. ” Brenda cried everyday for years. She still cried at the thought of never being loved again, by anyone. “I laid on the street one night when I saw a truck coming. You know, cause I couldn’t do it anymore, I was alone. I see the truck just down the street from me as I am laying there I’m thinking, ‘this is it, it’s all over’. Just then he turns onto a street that was brand new… I didn’t even know it was there!”. Brenda said this as though it was all she needed to choose life.
Berta and Brenda are both currently serving the homeless a few times a week and are going to church regularly. They have found love all over the place. They are even the type of people that can forge and instant, real life bond right here in the Greyhound.
Didn’t someone say that the last shall be first and the first last, that people who are broken are somehow divinely blessed?
Something about those who deeply desire something more right being the ones to be fully quenched?
The B-Attitudes has been brought to you from the Greyhound in thanks to Berta and Brenda.
Thanks for riding Greyhound!