Obviously, being pretty young, none of us had, so we all shook our heads.  He told us about the man and his watch, and the girl and her hair, and all the stuff that lead up to the ending.   He asked us what we thought the moral of the story was.  None of us had really good answers, so we just sat there, clueless.

He proceeded to tell us that there is a lot more to Christmas than getting gifts.  He told us that being with people you love, and knowing you’re loved is important.  He told us that sometimes, when life gets tough, the most important thing is knowing you’re surrounded by people who love you.  He told us that, this Christmas wouldn’t be like other Christmases, because he had lost his job.  He told us that we would have a meal, and be loved, and he, with tears in his eyes, told us that he hoped we still loved him.

We ate our meals and went home.  Our tree was up and stockings were hung, and honestly I don’t remember feeling differently at that moment.  I didn’t know what the weeks, months, or years were going to bring, which, I guess is why I carried on doing my own thing.  I don’t remember much about how that Christmas went, I do remember sleeping in.  I remember women from the school bringing us blankets and ‘necessities’ for our gifts, and I remember being really embarrassed about that.  I remember a woman bringing dinner over, and I remember none of us liking it, because it wasn’t mom’s cooking.

After living out what God had in store for me and my family the next 10-15 years, I can say it wasn’t easy.  I can say it’s hard to tell your friends you didn’t get anything.  I can say, it’s nice to have friends who understood.  I can say, even with all of our disfunction, it was nice to have a family. 

What I wouldn’t give, to wake up this Christmas, with my wife and my daughter and head over to my mom’s house and listen to her scream frantically about how she’s been slaving all day to prepare a meal, to have Andrea taste my mom’s cooking.  What I wouldn’t give to see Adrienne, my sister, who passed 8 years ago. or Matthew, who, up until he died 6 years ago, we spent EVERY Christmas together since I was 6. 

It wasn’t until all of the loss in my life, or even until this very moment, in writing this out that I truely understood what my dad was saying that night at the restaurant.

Gifts are cool to get, and a really good excuse to get together.  But love.  Love is what makes it all worth it.  The value of a gift is not the price tag.  The value of a gift is as deep as the love of the person who gave it.  The gift isn’t the object at all.  The gift is the love.  Christmas defies all logic.  From the birth of a baby born of a virgin, to a disfunctional family establishing a love so deep that it hurts the very core of my being.

Do me a favor this year.  Give love.  I don’t care how you do it, but make sure everyone in your life knows they’re loved.  There will be a Christmas where you will wish you could.

Merry Christmas ladies and gents.

“We need to talk.”  I don’t know if anything good has ever come of that sentence.  My stomach sank.  I immediately start thinking about all the junk I’d done.  I went downstairs to my room and hid my smokes and any other evidence I may have had on me.

I came upstairs, and my parents took me out on the deck.  Shortly after, my brother and my sisters joined me.  I could tell by their face that they were as clueless as me.

“We went to the doctor today, and got some results back.”  My dad says calmly.  ”Your mom has Hepatitis C.”

I had no clue what that meant.  I didn’t really ask any questions, I just sat there, knowing there was more to be said.

“It’s a disease in the liver, and it doesn’t have a cure.  Your mom will die.”

“How long?” I asked… not really wanting to know.

“The doctors told me I have at most, 2 years.” Mom said.

…
..
.

Silence.

I felt something in me, that I didn’t know what to do.  It felt like tears were about to come out, and it felt like my heart was pumping blood faster than my body could take it.  I could feel my face getting tight, and I knew if I talked, my sisters would hear the wavering in my voice.  I held it all in… As long as I could.

In a burst I had never experienced (at this level) I stood up, grabbed the chair I was sitting in, and smashed it.  I grabbed the table that was near by, and flipped it.  I started kicking the balcony, and screaming.  Not words.  Just screams.

I quickly made my way off of the porch and into the woods.  I had a place specially set aside for moments like this.  I jumped into the creek, and into my hiding place.  I sat there for what  must have been hours.  Hearing your mom has 2 years to live isn’t something you expect.   I didn’t say a word, I just cried.

I eventually calmed down enough to go back inside.  So I did.  Everything seemed the same.  The only difference was, now I know my mom is dying.  I still didn’t do my homework.  I still played guitar.   I still asked what was for dinner.  We didn’t talk about it. I guess no one wanted to see me get that mad again. I don’t know.  It wasn’t talked about.

In fact, the only time it seemed to come up was in fights.  My mom and I’d be yelling, I’d say my piece, and she’d say, “Is THAT how you talk to someone who will be dead in a matter of years!?!?”

That was her control.  That was my kryptonite.

I knew things were going to have to be different, I just didn’t know how different……

[to be continued]

Some pretty non-radical-radical ideas… if you know what I’m saying.

Anyway.  There’s a lot to come.

I promise.

This medal, although it has nothing to do with ranking or winning, means a lot to me.  See, this medal represents the moment I got off my butt and did something.  This medal represents a change in my life that I plan on holding on to until the day I die.  This medal represents the day I decided to not let my weight control me.  This medal is something that I’ve worked extremely hard for, and it’s a reward for my hard work. 

How was the Warrior Dash?  One word.  Awesome.  It started out with about a mile run (or so).  It was pretty hilly, but I was hanging in there, I felt good about my pace, and I was actually passing people. (WHAT!?)  We came up to the first obstacle.  It was a plank of sorts, basically, a balancing act on a piece of wood, laid on top of a lake.  I breezed over that, and immediately jumped to obstacle 2.  Wading through water.  That slowed me down immediately, and assured that I would have mud and rocks in my shoes for the remainder of the race. 

Obstacle 3, I got out of the lake, ran around a turn, and did the tires.  I rocked the tires. I actually passed several people, and moved forward to the wall climp/jump.  The walls were probably 4 feet high.  Which fortunately, are pretty easy for me to jump. (using the hand plant)  I think there were 3 walls. 

I started to feel pretty fatigued here.  I knew I had to keep pushing, because in my head I’m counting the obstacles, and realized that I still had a long way to go. 

The next obstacle was the junkyard dash.  basically a bunch of old beat up cars blocking your path.  That was fine, I made it over the first car, and realized that I may be able to actually jump the second car.  So…. in true warrior spirit, I tried. (clearly thinking I was still 18.)  The whole time I was in the air, I was thinking, “I’ve got this! I’ve got this!” Then my butt hit the car.  It was the very corner of the car, and my feet cleared it, but my butt hit the car, and it hurt!  I got up, finished this obstacle by climbing over an old beat up truck, and continuing on my way. 

Running.  Running.  Running.  Getting passed, and passing people.  Running.  Uphill.  Come around a curve, and I see a crew of folk standing there handing out water.  Praise God!!! I knew 2 things.  I NEEDED that water and that water meant I was halfway! 

I honestly, at this point, forget the order of the race, or how I did it, so I’ll tell you the obstacles until the last few.  Cargo climb.  I climbed up a cargo net, and then back down the otherside.  I’d say the net was 15 feet high, or so.  It was really easy for me.  There was a wall climb kinda, which was pretty much rope hanging down a sloped piece of wood.  It was a little slick from all of the other warriors climbing up it, but I breezed up that as well. The run through the forest was pretty intense. it was pretty much all uphill.  I ran, until I couldn’t run anymore and slowed to a walk, which worked out well, because this part of the coarse was pretty much single file, due to the narrowness of the trail, and everyone else was walking.  I broke through eventually and got to the top.  Crawled through some muddy tunnel, and then ran down a muddy hill.  Dangerous?  yes.  I slipped but did not fall. 

The end of the race was getting near, I could feel it.  I ran around a corner and noticed the mud pit. I knew I was close. I dove in to the mud, and started crawling.  I realized quickly that the bottom of this mud pit was uneven, and covered in gravel.  I could feel rocks cutting in to my legs.  I wanted it to stop, and knew the only way to make it stop.  Get through this! 

After the crawl, it was pretty much a stomp through deep, slippery, thick mud.  I fell 3 times, but was able to get up and keep pushing.  I ran up to a lake, and saw logs floating.  While I didn’t remember reading about this, I knew I could do this.  There were 3 or 4 logs, and I had to get to them, and get over them. (The water, for me was about chest deep)  I made it over those, kinda lazilly pushing myself through the water.  I make it out of the water, and I hear cheering.  I see fire, I know, that this is it!  I’m about to complete a race! 

Two lines of fire were between me and the finish.  I kick it in to high gear, and I jump the first flame!  A couple of steps and I clear the second flame!  I hear my name being shouted, I think my wife and sister, and I burst into a run.  I see the words “Finish”. 

I could have cried right there.  I didn’t, because I’m a man, but I could have.  All of the hardwork and determination paid off. All of the discouraging days, and the back injury.  All of the doubt, and fear.  overcome. 

I don’t know what to say about it, other than I did it.  I can’t believe it, but I did it.  Now.  Where’s the next race?

[sthumbs=1526|1531|1533|1539|1540|1541|1542|1543|1546,288,2,n,center,]

See. The day I was stabbed was the beginning of an end. Within that 24 hour period I was fired, evicted and stabbed. As I look at this scar, I remember the day my life changed forever.

That was the day I looked in the mirror at a cut up face, a stab wound and a meth addict. That was the day I was met with a real life dilemma. I needed to quit using, or end up dead. I hated my life, so it wasn’t as easy a decision as it sounds.

That night, I slept in a gas station bathroom in the dead of winter. I laid there fighting with myself. Freezing, lost and broken, I suddenly felt the strength that I needed. I knew, at that moment, I was going to live, and that I needed to sober up to do this.  I knew I had the strength to do so.

I was scared, nervous, broken and excited all at once. Looking back, there is NO mistaking that strength came from God. He first loved me. He saved me. He heard my struggles that night, and knew what I needed.

When I look at this scar, I’m reminded of the struggles i’ve overcome, and I’m reminded of His redemption.  I’m reminded that I can never do it alone.  I’m reminded that even in the darkest of days, He was there, looking after me.

I look at my stomach, I see more than a scar, I see healing.  I see redemption. I see a second chance.  I see love.  This scar will probably never go away, and I’m ok with that.

So, I say all of this to really say, embrace your scars.  They have made you you.  You are who are you are today because of scars, because of pain and because of love.  Do you have scars that you resent?  Do you have scars you want to disappear?  Think twice about that.  Without those scars you may not be the wounded healer Jesus wants you to be.

I hadn’t had a drink in several years.  I don’t remember the circumstances now, but somehow I had convinced myself and Andrea that having a beer or two was something I could definitely handle.  So, we went to the bar across the street from her apartment, and I had a beer.  (Or two.)  The next night, we went to the bar across the street from her apartment and I had a beer. (or two)  (Ok. Maybe 3 this time)

I don’t believe I was drinking every night, but for the most part, I was just having a couple of beers, so everything was cool.  As time progressed, when we were drinking, I was having a little bit more and a little bit more.  It got to the point where if I could, I would drink until I was sick.  Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it.  It was just ‘one of those nights.’  you know?  There were a few instances where I would get mad at Andrea when she tried to talk to me about drinking, or worse, ask me not to.  We got into an argument one night, and when she dropped me off at home, I went in, and instead of calling her to smooth it over, I passed out.  To this day, I wish to God I had picked up the phone and called her.

One afternoon, Andrea and I went out to “On the Border” with a friend of hers.  We ate.  Actually, I remember that day well, because I ordered a build your own burrito, but didn’t think that each item costed extra, so I built the worlds most expensive burrito.  Afterwards, her friend had to hit the road, but Andrea wanted to go across the street to Starbucks.

We got our drinks, went outside to sit, and then I realized something was wrong.  She didn’t go into much details-or I was just stunned and don’t remember, but the net/net was that she was breaking up with me.  My stomach went into a knot, which must have made room for my heart, because it dropped about 4 inches.  ”How could this happen?  We’re so happy.  Sure, I have some issues, you have some issues, but we’re perfect.” I said to myself.  Outloud however I said something along the lines of, “Ok.  Can you take me home?”

It didn’t really hit me until that night.  The next day, it hit me even harder.  Things went down hill quickly.  You know, when one second you feel like you have complete control of everything, and then the next second you only have control of a few things…. how you start to just…. try to control anything and everything you can?

It was going to be a tough time indeed….

It was her birthday, so I had worked with some of her friends to all get together and go out.  So, we did.  We all went to Atlanta.  We went to several different bars, and chilled.  At the end of the night, we went to Krispy Kreme, and had a donut picnic in the middle of the night.

I think at this point it is safe to say we were dating.  From this point things went fairly well.  With the occasional argument, we were super happy.  She pushed me to do better, and I accepted the challenge.  I got a job in a warehouse/assembly room and quickly got promoted to IT.  Andrea got hired at a highschool teaching ESOL.  We began to (together) discover our talents, dreams, and passions.

We talked late into the night about what we wanted to do.  We dreamed.  Never realizing that one day, our dreams may become an reality.  Things were going great…..

The question that was always in the back of my mind was, what am I going to do to screw this up?

To be continued……..

One night I’m laying in bed, and I felt something overcome me.   Out of no where, I started to feel weak, broken, worthless.  I was Asking Andrea about her God, and she talked to me about Him.  Not the, “Accept or Perish” I was so used to hearing, but the relational side of Christ.

I broke down.  I said something to the affect that God could never love me, I’m worthless.  I’ve done things that can never been forgiven.  I’ve seen things that should never be seen. I was pretty much convinced I was going to hell.

Andrea quickly replied by telling me about the disciples, and what they had done before they met Christ.  I was in awe.  I couldn’t believe it!

The next day she invited me to her Wednesday night service.  I believe this was Ash Wednesday. Chris Seay was the guest speaker.  It was amazing.  It was actually really awesome.  It hit my heart pretty hard.  Of course, Sunday I was invited to Easter service and I went.  I was nervous about meeting Andrea’s family.  We went out to lunch afterwards and her family was really nice.  I felt at home.

about a week later, I accepted Christ in to my heart.

Andrea and I were still just ‘friends’, but I could feel we were growing closer.  We spent more time together, and I was starting to learn her heart, know her thoughts.  I was starting to love her with all of my heart.

I don’t know if she will admit it today, but I think she was falling for me too.

To be continued…..

Andrea had to work.  I hung out at her apartment all day, waiting for her to get off.  I started drinking early.  really early.  So, by the time it was time to go out, I was well on my way to being drunk. 

A huge group of us started on our way to the local hangout.  We were having a blast, but Andrea and I couldn’t show our affection towards one another, because no one knew.  Her friend who was interested in me sat next to me, and we all were having a good time.  There was a radio station there giving out prizes.  One of the prizes was tickets to the Jamie Cullum concert.  Andrea looked at me and said, “I want those tickets.” 

The question was, “What does Budweiser stand for?”  I immediately darted to the front.  Years prior, an old man named Billy sat me down and explained the history of Budweiser to me, so I knew that, in fear of copyright infringement, Anheiser Busch had decided that Budweiser stood for, “Because U Deserve What Every Individual Should Enjoy Regularly”.  I run to the front and answer the question.  Boom!  Tickets to Jamie Cullum!  I was so happy, and again, I couldn’t celebrate with a hug or a kiss.  As a matter of fact, I think the question was in the air of who I was taking.  To me… it wasn’t a question.

As the night went on, another one of Andrea’s “Friends” showed up.  I was not thrilled.  Not sure why, nor do I remember the circumstances, but I look over at one point and Andrea was kissing this tiny man.  I couldn’t take it.  I got really upset.  I went outside.  I few people followed me, and that’s when I let the cat out of the bag, that I had feelings for her.  That didn’t make the night go any smoother, which, was fine by me, because at that point, I blacked out.

I’m not exactly sure what happened from that moment forward, but I do know we all headed back to Andrea’s apartment.  Apparently Andrea and I were arguing and I said I had to go outside to have a cigarette.  (She was on the second floor, so I stepped out on her balcony.)  Again, I don’t remember, but apparently, I leaped over the balcony, and on to the ground.  But, I didn’t land on my feet. 

I’m not sure how or why I did that, but I did.  I ended up in the ER.  This is where I start coming out of my blackout.  Andrea was there.  And the girl who was interested in me was there as well.  But, Andrea was back in the room with me.  They had to run X-rays on me and all sorts of stuff.  I was really drunk, so was acting silly.  I do remember looking Andrea in the eyes and saying, “I love you.”  She didn’t reply.  I don’t think she thought I meant it.  Turns out I wasn’t severely injured, and the Doctors said that if I hadn’t been drunk, I would have really injured myself.  I remember thinking, “If I hadn’t been drunk, I wouldn’t have jumped off a balcony.”  There were some other events that happened in the ER that I am not going to talk about today, because it’s a little above PG.  But, trust me, it was probably one of the most awkward moments in my life. 

That’s the night I think Andrea realized I had a drinking problem.  (Not that I did anything about it for quite some time) 

So, now the cat is out of the bag.  Everyone knows I like Andrea.   And, from what I can tell, everyone was telling Andrea that I am NOT the kind of guy she wants to be with.  I’m a recovering drug addict, alcoholic, mentally unstable.  They were right too. 

There’s still a lot more to this story.  I hope you keep reading.

I few months prior, I had my eyes on one of her friends.  She came around again and we talked to.  Nothing serious, just chatted, you know.  One night, we all went out.  A group of friends.  The fact that Andrea and I had kissed or been talking as much as we have was a secret (Per her request).  After a few drinks, Andrea and her friends went to the bathroom and gave said girl a pep talk. Told her to “go for it”, regarding me.  She walked out, and we kissed.  I look over on the dance floor and Andrea was kissing another dude.  It made me sad.  That moment I realized, that I had to have her for my own.  That didn’t mean anything.  It’s just what I realized.

We ended up getting left at the club, I think, and finding another ride to Waffle House.  That night was interesting.  A bunch of us ended up gathering at my house so I could play guitar and we could sing and crashing on the floor in my living room… Andrea was there.  We didn’t talk much that night, but I did try to kiss her.  She denied me.

We continued to talk, and we got closer and closer.  She would pick me up from work. (Secretly) her friend still liked me, (openly) so we were secret ‘friends’.  I would bring her food after we closed. (At this point I worked at Chili’s)  She liked the lettuce wraps.  I made them carefully for her.  She would bring me coffee or cupcakes or both. (from starbucks, where she worked)  We’d lay around, watch adult swim, she’d stay until we were both falling asleep, and she’d leave.  Those moments, man.  I can’t even explain those moments.   When she touched me, my heart sank.  When I thought we might kiss, my heart sped up.  When I saw her, my stomach went in knots.  I was no longer the smooth talker.  I was a bumbling idiot.  She made me nervous.

But there was one thing I knew….

When we were together, all of my worries went away.  She listened and she cared.  She knew when to talk, and she knew when to just let me complain.  There was something special about this girl.  I was finally happy.  I think, deep down, at that moment in time, I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with her.