Miracles, Signs, Wonders

What is mankind that you are mindful of them,

a son of man that you care for him?

You made them a little lower than the angels;

you crowned them with glory and honor

and put everything under their feet.

Hebrews 2:5-8

I’ve had one experience with an angel.  More than one experience with God.  The deep kind that just lets me know that I’m so fucking small, and yet still not inconsequential in this maddening world.

I met God as a child.  He wrapped himself around me and protected my heart, my spirit, when I should have given up.  He loved me.  He watched over me and yes, sent his angel to watch over me.  I have a name of that angel* – given to me only months ago, but I know it was real.  God – watching out for a small soul here.

And as for here, well, there is nothing small about me.  I live large, I breathe heavy, I am LOUD, boisterous, and even my silences are huge.  I am me.  I am no longer ashamed of what I am.  I am his, and I am free.  But freedom comes at a price.  The price is that of a child who lost his childhood, a man who still yearns for things he cannot see – or even dream of anymore.

I stand.  I stand amidst this world and I have no more pretense (well less and less pretense).  I am wounded and yet alive.  Born out of religion into light.  I am no longer ashamed of the man I am.  I’ve said that twice.  I fail a whole fucking lot, and I am still here.  Not by my power – I’m not big enough for anything like that – but through a group of misfits, a rag-tagged band of gypsies in life who I myself never wanted to be a part of.  Maybe somewhat like twelve from long ago.  Disciples?  Apostles?  Believers? 

I’m not trying to be preachy.  Hell, what can I say but my own experiences, my own hope, the strength I’ve found in those who stand beside me?  We cannot do this alone.  Life.  Believe what you want to believe, there is nothing without each other.  Otherwise, we fail.  I can tell you the story of a child who stood alone.  But that’s a sad tale that was so hidden it wrecked his whole existence in a moment (26 when the walls came down – just for an instance).  It wasn’t until finding the calm, the deadly eerie calm that changed my entire life in an instance that I could stand.  

We all believe in something.  I believe in those around me.  I believe in a God that isn’t wrapped in fear, evil, malice.  I believe in the words I utter aloud so often now that they’ve become part of my own daily, if not moment-by-moment meditation.  “God, grant me the serenity…”

But what is serenity?  I had someone ask me ‘how do you do this? How do you stay clean?’  I don’t.  It is entirely about NOT doing this.  I don’t have some magic elixir that rids me of the hurts and pain.  AND LET ME TELL YOU – this week I have felt pain.  I have felt an anguish that I haven’t seen in months.  And no one knows that but God (well now all of you know – sorry, still working on the whole ‘letting people in’ thing).  And he gave me people – men and women who are just there.  Who have listened to me wail.  Who have listened to me cry and shout and yell.  Who have listened as I lost the words to say and they turned into groans that only some deity on high could comprehend.  

They were there.  And even as my tears roll down at this moment, I know that I’m not doing this alone anymore.  

I still fight it.  The need for others.  The need to place trust, hope, anything in someone else’s hands.  It’s a hard lesson for a fucked-up human to do.  And I never lose sight of the horizon.  Knowing that there’s something out there – not necessarily some great reward or riches.  But a hope that is much bigger than this child, this boy, this man has ever truly known.

Today, early AM, I am focused on now.  Not tomorrow; not yesterday.  Today.

And Coffee.

In recovery we’ve talked about having a ‘spiritual experience’.  And that’s truly where this life changes.  Not just with addicts and mental characters (of which I am court jester), but in anyone who finds Him.  God, Yahweh, Higher Power, Peace, Spirit.  Believe in something.  Believe in bigger, better than ourselves.  “There is a bit of good in the worst of us, and a bit of bad in the best of us” – The Big Book.  We all have the capacity to be more, less, you, me.  Us.

We just need to believe.

My thoughts.  

It works…

…if you just listen, and let it be.  My all-time favorite Beatles song.

And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree

There will be an answer, let it be

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see

There will be an answer, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

There will be an answer, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

~ Peace

The Burtle


The Burtle is part Bison; stampeding headfirst into the storm – facing the hurt and pain, and part Turtle; slow and steady, watching his steps – learning as he goes.  I AM the Burtle.

And to the curly haired girl,

You promised me on December 13, 2020 - ‘in six months.’  Face-to-face.  That’s now, just about.

I still love you.

Chad

*Zadkiel

Letter from God

If we were to stand face-to-face with God, many of us would be so fearful that he would look at us and say, “I am so ashamed of you”.  When in reality God looks at us and calls out with open arms, “I am so proud of you. I love you”.

I wrote this as if God was talking to my 7-year-old, 14-year-old and present-day self.  The two places most shrouded with hurts and abuse and who I am now.  It is an exercise to allow myself to stop feeling so ashamed of who I am and realize how much God truly loves me.  You don't have to believe in the same God - this is my journey, but I hope you find your own higher power to love and guide you.

Dear Son,

I know you love me, but do you know how much I love you?  You’ve spent your entire life seeking.  Seeking acknowledgement, acceptance, love, respect.  Do you know how much I am all of those for you?

I gave you breath, and even before you were, I was watching and waiting for you.  You come from me.  You are my child, my love and my servant.  And I know how much your heart longs to serve.  You gave your clothing to the homeless man when you were just a teen, you have showed how big that heart (that you claim isn’t there) is – yet you still don’t want to accept my love.  You never feel worthy or good enough.  I tell you son; you are more precious than the heavens to me.  You were made from me.  I have seen you every day.  I know your heart.  And I know all that you deal with inside.

I was there when you ran.  Ran from Lee.  Ran from the realities of life to survive.  Do you remember me calling to you?  You have always had such an instinct to survive.  But what I ask you to do is to rest.  Rest in me.  I have sheltered you from the beginning.  No, I didn’t stop him. I gave each of my creation the power of choice.  Yet even through that experience you have loved me.  And do you know?  I have loved you too!  You aren’t less because of your scars.  You are precious because of the fighting spirit that resides within you.  You are such a brave young man.  And I know you are trapped in those years inside your head.  But I don’t hold you there.  I am NOT ashamed of you.  I am grateful for the example you are becoming each and every day.

And son, I accept you.  Not for what I expect of you, not for what you have been taught is the ‘way’.  I love you like all my children.  You are loved – just as you are. 

You were ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’.  You bear my likeness.  I look down on you every day and I say the words that were echoed about your brother… “this is my son… in who I am well pleased!”

I know you still hunger for me, and I know you still often want to hide from me.  I am not scared of the dark you want to hide from me.  I know how much you love me, but son, listen. I will not leave you.  I will not forsake you.  Your dark will rise at times.  You will hide.  But I am always here.  I know how it feels when those closest to you have walked away – often times because of your own actions.  I know how you ran to wherever you could find to numb yourself.  But I don’t want you to numb anymore.  I want you to feel – to know that I am there with you when it rains and also when your spirit soars.

I will allow the trials to happen.  I do not promise prosperity there in life.  But I promise myself to you.  I am always watching you.  I see when you are lost.  I turn on the light.  I am waiting.  I will always be here.  Waiting.  I was there in the back of the church when you realized all of those nightmares were true.  I was there to give you a place to hide.  I know you ran from me, you blamed me, and I am sorry.  I wept with you when you first spoke those words.  When you uttered aloud his name… when you couldn’t even say what he had done… but you could say that it was real.  For the first time.  I carried you through those days.  I saw the first drink hit your lips.  I knew you wanted to find a place to hide.  Son, I was there.  I know you weren’t ready for me to show myself fully, but I was there.  Waiting.  I know that you felt like you had betrayed me.  You did not.  You carried yourself the best that you could over the course of those years.  And those 5 years after saying it, well they were some of your hardest.  I was there the night you couldn’t handle your sins.  Chad, I embrace you even in your sins. 

You are lovely and special.  I numbered the hairs on your head.  I cast you in a mold that you often joke about, saying I have hidden it so there will never be another.  And I have hidden it away.  I want all of you.  You are so very special in my eye.  There is no other creature, no other person quite like you.  And that is true of all my children.  I do not pick favorites.  I love you as much as the sun loves the sky, as much as the stars love and chase the heavens.  I love you fiercely and I love you completely.

I hope that you will see my love even more present as you are working so hard to find peace.  But Chad, I am your peace.  I will give you rest, solace, cool water and manna for your soul.  But don’t put all your effort on working hard to accomplish my love.  You don’t have to do anything.  All the misguided, yet good-intended efforts taken to teach you the ‘way’ are nothing compared to hearing my spirit.  And that is your gift.  I know you hear me.  I know you can stop on a mountainside or sidewalk, look up, around, down and find my blessings.  In the structures I create, in nature, in the couple walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk – in the dandelion.  You have a special gift of discerning my presence. You hear me. 

But I want you to listen.  I want to give you so much more of me.  Slow down.  Be that Burtle that you joke about.  I know your strength and tenacity like the Bison.  Yet I also know the Turtle is there.  You know how much clearer you hear me when you slow things down.  I don’t need you to change.  I want you to evolve.  I want to take who I made – your incredibly talented vessel – and fill it even more with my words, my wisdom, my life.  Will you let me?

I know you don’t give up.  Even last year when you continuously tried to come too soon to be with me, you didn’t want to give up.  But I tell you.  I still have more for you there.  I am watching, and I see every day the good in you.  I know you struggle still, and I also see you letting the burden be mine more.  “Come to me…”

I want to end this with praise to you son.  For all the wonderful things that you are, and all the wonderful things that you do.  I see them.  I acknowledge them.  And I love you for them.  AND even if you falter; when you fail.  I am there.  I will continue to pick you up.  Like the sand on the beach outside of St. George.  I will not let you perish without me. 

I am forever, and I will see you at my right hand one day.  Not in some small shed like you often claim you’ll occupy just outside the gates of Heaven – but in a place of honor and blessing.  You are mine.  And I love you.

Dad

Verses:

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

Matthew 10:29-31

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” 

Matthew 11:28

“For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.”

Psalm 139:13-15

“and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: ‘You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.’”

Luke 3:22

~ Peace

Chad

and for Annie.

T-minus 10 and counting

10... 9... 8... 7... 6... (you get it by now)

It’s almost been half a year. Damn what a six months!

Whereas a year ago today I was desperately trying to win back the love that I still hold, I find myself on the threshold of a brand new adventure.  It’s still me, with all of my character defects and all of my flaws, but I’m not bound.  I’m not bound to a substance, or to a codependency on others that made me so scared to breathe.

I’m hopeful, I’m grateful, and I’m daily finding guidance beyond me.  God‘s voice through others in the rooms, friends that have stuck by me, through the ‘wind in the trees, the birds and the bees’ (that last part was for Jack, my counselor).

I’ve written a description of what I am…

Hack carpenter, handyman, musician, writer, modern-day poet.
‘Street corner philosopher’

I’m also a father, a son, a friend, a brother, and so much more.

I am growing.  I am changing.  I am also still the same beautiful soul that God created.  I am me.

I live and I breathe in every day.  I am so thankful for that.  After a year of  trying to dog-paddle against the waves of my own personal tsunami, I found a lifeline through the one place I never wanted to go.  And I have found healing.  Slowly and methodically.  Painstakingly.

The tribe that I’ve been adopted into has deep roots.  I have peeps that already mean so much to me.  And I want to give of myself to those  who’ve traveled down that same road I did.  The road that I’m still walking on.  One day at a time.

Since November 19, I haven’t had a day that I wanted to leave this planet.  To blast off into outer space or to meet my maker or to go to hell.  See, that was my entire world before.  I was just counting the days till I wasn’t here anymore.  It wasn’t my fault; I had embraced that as the only path a long time ago.  Formed out of the misconceptions of an abused child growing up with his secrets.

Oh I'm still EAF, LAF, CAF and all the other "as F*c&s"!!!
(Emotional as... Loud as... Crazy as...)

AND now for the last six months (well in ten days!!) I have found hope.

So I am counting down.  Six months.  I didn’t think I could make it six days.  And I haven’t done this alone.  You know who you are.  All of you!  I am so blessed to have you in my life.  You are the people that were placed here to help me find life.

And that simple prayer that I’ve said many times over the years now rings even more true.  Helping me to navigate through my days.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

~ Peace

Chad