Steel Magnolia.

My dad sent me a picture of my mom's grave today.  Pretty yellow flowers placed on a still very fresh grave.  At least fresh to those who it impacted.

September 2020:

I stood there alone. 

In the midst of several hundred people, during the height of Covid - I stood alone.

It's not a topic I relish talking about.  My last conversation with her wasn't pleasant.  It wasn't hard, it just was.  I said goodbye over the phone the day before it happened.  Then she was gone.

I wasn't present during that time.  I was distant, destructive, determined to exit this life myself.  Never expecting my days to add up while my her's ended.  I didn't have hope, and all I saw was the morose and pain that I felt was the biggest ever known.  And in that time it was the hardest - to me.  We all have our story, our paths that led us to where we are.  In September of 2020 I was on a downward spiral that still had a ways to go before bottoming and finding that word, that belief - "hope".

As I stood by the grave I realized the path I was on was shaky.  I didn't know how scary it was going to be - how could it get worse than this moment, standing by the grave?  It did.  What I also realized was that I was alone.  Amidst family, my older kids, so many past acquaintances, I was standing there a shell.  

I was strong though - I thought.  I was able to deal with this.  I was ok.

Bullshit.

I was a mess and very few wanted to be around me for any extended amount of time.  The man I thought I was looked more like a badly drawn cartoon character than a survivor.  

Of course I was alone.

Well, not totally alone. 

God was there.  He cradled me - held me - tried to direct me, all while I stood my ground and spat in his face.  He never left.  Never let go.  Always tried to speak his still, soft voice in my ear.  

I continually find myself realizing that this journey does not get easier.  Life is hard.   It is filled with all the stuff that makes us grimace, glow, grow and even feel gassy!  We aren't here to ride some celestial wave into glory.  We are here to trudge.  Sometimes with a solemn peace, sometimes with a gentle glow.  Laughter and tears can flow in the same instance.  

I watched "Steel Magnolias" this evening.  First time I've seen it in probably 15 years.  It's a hard movie.  There's a lot of life in that two hours.  At the end they are at the gravesite.  Tears.  Anger.  Questioning.  Why?  Why her?  Why not me?

I don't know the answers.  My mom and I were not close.  I only know that I am here.  I was given life during a year filled with so much loss.  I can't waste that.  I want to listen to His spirit blowing through the trees.  I want to walk through creation being the best man I can be.  Not ever perfect, but learning - growing.

Not much of a hero, I am true to who I've become.  I've found myself having to learn how to 'adult'.  Handling several very hard situations in the last few days, all with some level of serenity.  I have changed a lot in the last two years.  From homeless wreck to stable man.

I am never alone.

I stand here.

Learning how to be a Steel Magnolia.   

~ Peace,

the Burtle

'the Trail guide'

Many have walked this path. A life similar to what I now know.  Many have gone before and many will come after.  We can’t do it alone.  No matter what.  We can’t walk this life alone.  We need help.  Need a guide.

I was privileged 19 months ago to find a guide.  A man who said 'hey, I’ve been where you’re at. Let me show you a better way.'  Not a God, not a deity… I already know that exists in my life.  But someone who took the time to say 'hey, I want to help.'

Our first conversation was just a few minutes long.  He said, 'it’s like having a trail guide'…  and that was all I needed to hear.  For the first time in my life I trust a man.  Truly trust another man to be part of my journey.  And I pray for this man… Because I can be a meandering storm at times. Twisting and turning through life.  I’ve seen him have to gently nudge me or firmly say, 'Chad… take a minute, look at your feet.'

He’s given his time, his energy; willingness to answer the phone, to text, to even call me this morning from Sweden!

And the door that he’s opened has allowed me to trust others. Other men who I hold dear.  Other men and women who have shown me a spiritual life that I have never known.  I know God. That’s never been the problem.  But to live the principles he set forth… that’s taken a long time. I want to have character - not just be a character.  That means staying on the trail.  Not getting too far off the path, too Squirrley, to loose for my own good.

And along the way, after months of being able to call him mentor, I now call him friend.  And I am thankful.  I am very blessed.

As I walk through each day, I know there are many that I can reach out and hear, 'Chad, you’ve got this. What’s the next right thing, what do you do next?'  The decisions are always mine, and in people like my trail guide, another man I call old goat, and wise old Thomas… I have found voices of truth in my once clouded world.  

God guides it all.  These are just willing men and women who have shown just how much they care.

So, as it is almost Father’s Day, they are not my father, but I wish them all my love and support. They have helped me stay the course, not beat myself up and live each day to the fullest.

Thank you BZ, SP and Th!

~ Peace

The Burtle

I was a victim.

At eight years old how can you be anything other than a victim? Kids can’t defend themselves.  They can’t fight back.  They can only run away or run inside themselves.

HEADLINE:

I don’t need to judge them.  That’s not my place.  But I know the pain that they’ve caused.  Not just by their actions, not just by the abuse through rape, molestation.

The pain of silence.  The pain of manipulation.  The pain of sin; if we can use that word without causing a stir.  Hell, let’s cause a stir.

I don’t trust easily.  I find that I will give you a good bit of trust in the beginning, but why should I trust any man, any person, any human who might ultimately take me back to the hurt I experienced as a child again?  Especially those who use their influence, their status, their power to control.

I’m sad.  For the hundreds, maybe even more that have had their stories pushed down because those specific churches and executive leaders didn’t want the truth to be known.  It’s not just about the allegations and the pain of the initial hurt. It’s the lies, it’s the sentence that has already been laid out on those who were victims. Who have to fight to try to find a life amidst the power struggle that has been going for over 40 years.  How do I know this?  Because I experienced it.

And there’s not a safe place to run.  Because at that point, whether a child, a teen or even an adult, you’re not safe.  You don’t feel safe.  You feel demonized, broken, less than whole.

Less than whole.

And you know what, my heart never stopped seeking God.  Even amidst the lies and betrayal within those buildings that I saw oh, so evidently, I still wanted my father.  My God.

So in the wake of the scandal that has been unearthed in the last days of one nation’s largest group of Christians, I am sad.  I will pray, grieve for them in my own way.  And I am thankful.  To be a survivor; to have been able to walk through the mess (of my life after) and to finally have found my footing after so many years.

It stings today, but I don’t shrivel up like a ball anymore.  I won’t walk away from God just because man has so torn mine and other souls asunder.  I am not a victim ANYMORE.  What happened to me was terrible, tragic, and it is part of my story.  And without my story I’m nothing.  

I had to let go.  I’m not asking any of the victims to be quiet.  Speak your truth.  But at some point the only way to move forward is to let go.  Sure, the Southern Baptist church needs to answer - and I hope they close their doors.  Honestly, I hate to say that because I know my father loves that organization so much.  But I do pray for a reckoning.*

And for peace.  For peace within the hearts of the victims.  And yes, for peace within those who have used their power inappropriately.  We are all fallen creatures.

I truly hope that the cries of those who have suffered becomes a calling point to where there will be no more silence.  Only truth.

~ Peace

The Burtle

* I know the church is made up of many good people. That there are believers all over the world just like me; jaded, fallen, scraping-by for life and still truly believe that there’s a God who is all-powerful, who can touch and heal even the deepest hurts.