My last post made me think.  I haven’t ever really hashed out my and Andrea’s story… from my point of view of course. 

The last post could technically be part one. So this is part two.

January 23rd.  Day after my birthday.  It’s late.  I had just gotten home from being arrested for my 2nd DUI.  I wasn’t really home, because 10 days previous I had been evicted, among other things.  My dad was staying at an extended stay hotel, instead of crashing in a bathroom again, I went to his hotel and crashed on a couch.  His laptop was out, so I got on and logged on to Myspace. (remember that?) 

I saw that Andrea was online.  Previously we had never spoken on Myspace.  Just at the bar, (and that one time at Church)  I messaged her.  I said, “Man you’re up late.” or something like that. 

She replied rather quickly, and that was awesome.  So it began.  We became friends.  We continued to talk, where she informed me that she was supposed to be at my surprise birthday party, but it got called off because I was in jail.  (*sigh*).  So, I immediately began to message her every day.  I remember I went over to her apartment one night for a movie/pajama night.  I don’t remember how that night went, and if I remember quickly, she had another boy over.  (Though I could be completely wrong)  I think we watched “Dazed and Confused”. 

The innocent talking went on for a week or so.  At this point, I had moved into a house with my dad and my brother.  It was close enough to a steakhouse that I could walk, so I got a job there.  Originally serving tables, but with the second DUI, I was unable to serve, so I moved to the kitchen.  Before I left for work one morning, I asked Andrea if she wanted to come out and celebrate my sister’s birthday.  It was February 2nd.  That night, we went out, and I had a few drinks.  I also, at this point had been clean off of drugs for a little under a month.  I was shakey, so the only way to calm the nerves was alcohol. 

That night was Karaoke night at a local bar.  We were all singing and having a good time.  All of her friends were up on stage singing, “Goodbye Earl”, we were talking and she leaned in and kissed me.  (To this day, she’ll tell you I kissed her. That’s a lie.)  She immediately looked deeply in to my eyes, and gently said, “If you tell ANYONE that just happened, I’ll kill you.”  (How romantic)  So, when “Goodbye Earl” was over, I ran to her friends and said, “I JUST MADE OUT WITH ANDREA.”   yah.  didn’t go over well. 

That night she dropped me off at my house, got out of the car, and we walked to my door.  To say it was awkward would be an understatement.  I went to hug her goodbye and went in for the kiss.  First, I kissed her nose completely on accident.  I figured, oh well, that was completely accidental.  So, I tried again.  She pulled her head away and smiled… at this point, my eyes are closed, and I’m essentially licking her teeth.  She laughed it off, and said she’d call me later.

I went inside feeling like a complete jackass, honestly thinking I’d never have a chance with her again.

So that was the story of our first kiss.  I have WAY more stories to go.  Join me as I remember our story.

I’ll take you back a few years. 

I had been up all night with a friend.  I had been tweaking out, and hadn’t slept in about 4 days.  It got to be about 8:30 or 9:00.  My friend said, “Oh man, I gotta go to church!”  Wow.  What should I do?  I guess I could go with, I mean.. I don’t want her to have to drive me all the way back to my house. 

“Ok, I can tag along.” 

She went to get ready for church… I paced back and forth in the kitchen for a while, and then busted out my stash.  I did enough to ‘get me through the morning.’  As we approached the church, I got a little nervous, but comforted myself that I could blend in without being noticed.  When we got there, she was pretty talkative, and introduced me to several people.  They were all pretty nice, but I could tell they didn’t quite know what to make of me. (At that time, I was 100 pounds or so.) 

Once the gathering slowed down a bit, she grabbed me and said, “Come on, we’re going to see my friend.”  Of coarse I followed.  I sure as hell didn’t want to be left alone.  We walked through some hall ways into an office area.  Around the corner, there she was.  A young lady, whom I had seen before, at the bar.  Black hair, a smile that made me hurt, a style of clothing that made me happy and a slightly weird look… something like, “Why the hell did you bring this dope fiend here?” 

She was nice enough to me.  We didn’t talk long.  We never had before either, just the friendly cordials as I was pouring her a drink, or knocking a few drinks off her bill.  We went back out to where service was about to start.  I’ll be honest.  I don’t remember much about the sermon.  But I remember that painful smile, and that black hair like it was yesterday.  It was the first time I had seen a person from the bar in ‘the wild’.

That day, I realized there were some people who could live life normally.  That day, I began to starve for a ‘normal life’ out side of the bar fights, alcohol, and drugs.  That day, an angel was introduced to me.  I didn’t even realize it. 

Had  I known, at that moment, that the woman sitting in that office, with the smile that made me hurt, would one day be my wife and the mother of my child, I would have stopped getting messed up right then.  I would have laid it all down.  But, that’s the day it started.  The hunger.  The drive.  The want.  The tiredness of my life hit me, the moment I saw that beautiful smile, outside of the bar.  I realized life was bigger than karaoke night and Jager bombs. 

I didn’t return to that church for close to a year.  But when I did, it was a home coming.   I am so glad God brought me to where I am today.

 The date that I always avoided in my past. Friday the 13th.  Superstitious or not, things always went wrong on that day for me.  The last time that happened was January 13th, 2006.  I got stabbed.  I got evicted.  I got fired.  I quit using drugs. (because I had no money)

Looking back I see that all of that was the working of God in my life.  I can truely say that Friday the 13th, that day, is one of the most significant days in my life.  It was a true turning point.

Now I welcome every day, and dread none.  A wonderful life is upon me.

I don’t remember a lot of things about being a really little kid.  I remember our carpet was a weird color, (I attribute that to the 80′s)  I remember my parents got along (or seemed to get along) a lot better when I was little.  I remember catching flies with my sister, and I remember what my dad looked like.  I mean.  I remember very specifics about my dad.

My dad had a mustache, and always tried to kiss us, and we gave him a hard time about the scruff. My dad was always wearing a suit.  My dad always wore sunglasses, very similar to aviators, but a little less Top Gun and a little more… Miami Vice.  I remember that he always wore a belt. (Just wait til your dad gets home)  and I remember that no matter where we went, he demanded respect for all of us.  Best of all, I remember hearing change jingling around and knowing that daddy was home.

I have been thinking.  What do I want my little kid to remember as.  Should I have a beard or shave?  Should I keep my glasses or get contacts?  I think these kind of things stick with a person their whole life, and I want them to be good memories.  Should I start carrying around 3 dollars in change, so that whenever my son (ok ok, or daughter) hears the noise of change jingling, they think of dear old dad?

It’s rough.  What if we do have a girl, and I keep the beard.  What if my daughter grows up to be attracted to creeps with beards.  To top it off, some creep with beards AND tattoos!  *sigh* I don’t know if I can handle that.

What if I shave my beard, and my son grows up never seeing one, or being scared of them.  All because I shaved.  Jeez.  Maybe I’m over thinking it, but some of the earliest things I remember are the ones that stick with me, in my good memories.  I will never forget my dad’s mustache, and the sound of change jingling.  Or the smell of old spice and cigarettes. (and sometimes vodka or beer..) I love those things.  I want my child to look back and be happy. It’s a lot to think of.

What do you remember about your childhood that lights up your day?

I love it when God shows off.  When I feel like He did something just for me.  Like He is saying, “There ya go Son, that’s for you, I hope you enjoy it. But don’t forget, that’s really nothing compared to what I can do.”

click the image to see the larger size

When I look at this stuff, I realize I don’t give God nearly enough credit.  I don’t look at what is right in front of me, and realize how lucky I really am!  Holy wow.  I don’t think there are words to describe the Love running through me right now, the emotions from looking at these pictures, the absolute gratitude I feel for the blessings I have received!

Praise God!