What if I stumble…

“What if I stumble? 

What if I fall?

What if I loose my step 

And I make fools of us all?”

~ DC Talk

Such poignant words. Doubt creeps in and cripples us. Fear can take away any ounce of joy.

What do I do? I stumble and fall a lot.  But now, instead of reaching for a substance or reaching inwards towards my insecurities, I reach up.

I was once in a relationship where everything had to just work. Everything had to be ‘perfect’ the first time and bumps in the road came like earthquakes that rated like a 22.8 on the richter scale* lol.  And that’s just not living.

Failure is a part of life.  And so is taking chances. Sometimes you have to get out on the dance floor and show everyone just how bad you are, laughing at your mistakes and keep on dancing.

I’ve been praying for the last three months about three major areas in my life. My living situation; where I live and the area that I’ve called home for so long. My work life; not just my job but for something that might be sustainable for this last career of my life… and God willing this is my last career!  And relationships; damn that’s such a hard one, and another blog for another day.

Part of me wants to stay in the safe. And believe me, the last two years I’ve done a whole lot of work to try to maintain a healthy, safe lifestyle.  I don’t wanna lose that.  But there’s a part of me that wants to breathe deep, to stretch out - and fly.  I need to spread my wings.  This isn’t a rash thing, it’s been coming for a while.  Just didn’t expect the location to be exactly where it’s heading.  I’ve got family there and I know I have a way of life that lends itself toward community… I just have to show up.

Isn’t that part of it?  Life.  Community.  Knowing that there will be people who show up when you need them.  And I want to be one of those people, those who show up.  I’m going to fall at times.  I’m going to stumble.  But to go back to the life I knew is not something I want to dwell on.  Because one day at a time I get to choose to be here, present, now.  And it’s been a beautiful journey.  So instead of getting somber and boo-hoo, I’m just gonna take one step at a time.  Who knows what’s beyond the waiting horizon?

And when I stumble, just like Batman…

“Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

And often that comes with help, community, family.

~ Peace

The Burtle 

*’Although the Richter Scale has no upper limit, the largest known shocks/earthquakes have had magnitudes in the 8.8 to 8.9 range.’ - from the interwebs!

the Maelstrom

Oh I’ve been there.  In the recent past, and even 20 years ago…  I know what a storm looks like.  Steel grey skies and looming thunder, just waiting to rain down on us.  I know when it’s time to get on my knees, be still and pray.  Because there’s nothing that’s going to take away the storm and sometimes just like ‘going on a bear hunt’, you gotta go through it.

Years of avoidance, time wasted, tears shed without any understanding of why I was even crying.  Because I was sitting in the storm.  Funny thing is looking back, those that I blamed for the trouble that I went through or the circumstances that I was always pointing towards, they weren’t the storm.  I was.

Regardless of what any other person, place or thing did, it’s my crap.  I had to own my side of the street.  Now, I don’t need to bend over and take it in the ass, but I do need to be real about the fact that I typically have had a place in building the storm.  Whether it be by my own actions or often times more through my own inactions.

Storms are real -

Hurricanes, Tornadoes, Twisters, Maelstrom sized things that we go through in life.  And if you’ve never gone through a storm, you scare me more than I used to scare myself… Because how can you have a life without some junk?  It’s to own the messes we’ve had that shapes us - breaks us and then rebuilds us.  What we need to know is that we’re not alone in this. That when the storm happens, there’s a lifeboat.  Sometimes it comes in the shape of faith, it can come in the shape of friends, family and it can even come in the shape of self-love. When we finally realize and embrace that; that it’s ok to love my ‘self’.  Wow!  Damn, it took me a long time to get there.  I was 48 the first time I spoke those words.  

“I love me.”

That may sound irrational, but you don’t know my whole story.  It was easy to make myself ugly even when I wasn’t.  Because shame and guilt lived so rent-free in my head that they often times took over any logical or even spiritual thought.

Something I still struggle with is bashing myself. But I seem to be getting better at it.  I’m on a long walk tonight and I realize that physically I haven’t been as active the last several days, so I bash myself.  But honestly, the sky is turning to night, I can hear the cicadas in the nature area where I typically walk, and even the noise of the cars in the community around is beautiful. 

Instead of judging myself for what I’ve not done, I’m on my feet, moving through the community that I live in.  That’s pretty incredible.   Years ago I would’ve sat inside, blinds shut and lights turned off just trying to sink further into the sofa and disappear.  Sinking in and trying to avoid the storms...

I know there are people around me enduring storms right now.  You know what, I can’t wish them to go away.  What I am going to wish and pray for is that you find inner peace; God, the guiding light that lets you know that the storm will eventually pass.  When I first started using ‘Burtle’ at the end of my blogs people asked me what it meant.  It’s a buffalo and a turtle.  The buffalo is one of the few animals that when the storm comes they push through the storm, not running away or cowering. And the turtle, well if you’ve met me you know sometimes I need to just slow it down a little bit.

So as you face your storms, know that you’re not alone.  There are people around.  For me, there’s always God.  And that’s a pretty special relationship that I’ve learned just doesn’t go away.  Even when I spat at him years ago, even when I denied him, there is this huge loving father who just says ‘I’m here’.

He wrapped his arms around me and he just held me tight. He helped me through my worst storms, even when I didn’t want to make it through them. And he was there on the other side. 

It seems that I always cry when I write these, because it’s just so incredibly cool that there’s something bigger out there.  And if you don’t believe in God or a higher power, that’s okay.  This is my journey, you have to find yours.  But I wish you peace; if you’re traveling through a storm or when the next one brews.  Because just like the sun is going to rise, things are gonna happen in life.  

So get your umbrella (I don’t personally own one - they scare me!!), your rain boots, and face the storm.

~ Peace

The Burtle

Authenticity

Rigorous honesty.

That’s what I’ve chosen.  I didn’t choose it on my own.  I chose it through a series of events that led me to the bottom.  And then another series of events that started building me back up.  One step at a time.

I find it very difficult to lie.  And believe me, I was the king of liars.  It just doesn’t work.  To be untrue means I’m being untrue to myself.  It means that I’m lying in my core.  At the end of the day, when no one is looking, when no one is around, I want to have character.  To be a man of character.

Speaking of Character, I’ve said in the past that I would love to end up one day a mix of Mark Twain and Rhett Butler.  Because as I was driving to work this morning I realized that I am a lot country, a little civilized and pretty damn smart.  And that’s a great mix (in my honest opinion).  And in that combination I want to be known for being someone who speaks truth.  Witty, maybe even a little bit daring, but I always true.

I can be blunt as hell, compassionate, can be hard to get to know and can be very loud!  Explosively loud.  But in recent months I’ve found that I find solace and strength in quiet.  I enjoy having those times where I am just by myself, with my thoughts, with God.  Alone.

As I’m trying to be authentic here, I have to state that I’m dealing with someone in my life who is anything but.  At least from my perspective.  Someone who's actions show they are purposely trying to keep me from the person who actually matters most to me.  I hope Cade and Cambrey understand, but that little boy means so much right now.  He’s at an age where he needs to see his dad.  Where he needs to be known.  And I am continuing to advocate for more.  For time, for communication, for a real relationship.

I married someone several years ago that looked so positive and put together on the outside.  But it wasn’t true.  It wasn’t authentic.  It was a façade; a picture painted to make things look perfect.  From my recollection there’s only been one person who ever lived that was perfect.  And I really love that hippie (if you don't think Jesus was a hippie, we should talk... like have a down and dirty conversation about a man who balked everything the establishment threw at him - for US!)

So I’m going to cry tonight.  And it’s okay.  I miss my son.  Little man.  I miss my older son.  I even miss the girl…

I choose to go to bed tonight and to wrap myself up in the knowledge that I am taken care of by a creator that is much bigger than me.  That the legal system, my ex, those who don’t care to understand recovery are not what guides me.  What guides me is a hope that comes from a God that I came to truly understand… in the rooms.

~ Peace

The Burtle

Ease on down the road

So many times I try to take the power out of God’s hands.  Like I can truly control anything outside of my own little lane driving down the highway?

There are so many things that are outside of my line of sight, beyond the horizon, over the next till… So many places I’ve not seen or even know if I’ll experience.

Yet when the first bump comes and I’m forced to swerve a little bit I start to panic.  I’m still on the road.  I’m still in my lane.  But I’m letting things that are outside of my control take me down tangents before they even affect me.

Yes, there’s a hazard ahead.  And I have to do something about it if I don’t want to wreck.  But I can see those clearly now most of the time.  They’re bigger than the bumps and I have to avoid them.  Or, I have to stop and move them out of the way.

I haven’t slept.  I had something come up that I’ve got to deal with.  And I will.  After a good snotty cry and the realization that I’m in such a better place than I was a couple years ago; when this would have driven me to anger, to bitterness, to drink.

I get to make the next right decision.  I’ve got some things I need to take care of but in reality my life hasn’t changed from yesterday.  Paperwork, owning my part, and continuing to seek his will.

That’s what I can do.

Honestly, it’s in his hands. I just have to do the footwork.

Pause.  Pray.  Proceed. 

~ Peace

The Burtle

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.