Freebird

“If I leave here tomorrow

Would you still remember me?

For I must be traveling on now

'Cause there's too many places I've got to see”

It’s a song of the South. Possibly the southern national anthem if you really wanna get into it, by a group that spent a lifetime traveling and making music their own way; through deep rooted beginnings, tragedy, departures, success and a legacy that still plays on through whatever medium you listen to your music on.

Lynyrd Skynyrd.

And while I cannot say that I am their greatest fan, I am a son of the south. An educated white liberal Christian who never has seemed to fit in 100%, but knows my roots and knows who I am finally after 50+ years!

‘If I leave here tomorrow…’ well that’s gonna happen. Not tomorrow, but in the near future - the next days even. Taking on a new adventure and this time taking the time to plan it out and make sure that it at least has the inklings of success instead of running across the country like I did several years ago just to “do the right thing” - when I wasn’t even sure what the right thing was.

It’s crazy. And at the same time it makes perfect sense. Where else would I go but to the place I feel like I can do life, work, wake up next to someone I love and though not free in the sense of my hippy spirit reminiscent of the 60s and 70s, to be free in the ways that I can be. Which is by following my heart, which hurts sometimes, and just pressing forward into the next day.

“Would you still remember me?”

In the past, I’ve left quite a path of destruction that I’m sure many people remember. But I also left some good. And in my more recent history it has been about making sure that I leave a positive reflection of who I am and what I believe when I’m dealing with others - whether it be through work or social interactions or in this place that we try to hold God in at times. 

Man, those of you at Burnt Hickory have been so important! My class. In ways you may never know, you’ve guided and loved and shown me that I’m ok in a place where I really don’t like being most of the time.

If you know me, really know me I hope you realize how important you people are to me. Though I can happily do life alone as a hermit at times, I do want there to be people who see me for who I am. Not for the mixed up child of the church, but for the man of faith that I truly strive to be every day. And I think you’ve seen me.

I love you all!

Through my faith I’m free to be who I am, not chained or shackled but open and ready to see what comes next. 

In his hands!

~ Peace 

The Burtle

Cold of Winter

Winter sucks. The final season of the life cycle. Cold, bitter, lifeless - at least on the surface.

Cold winds blow and the comfort of heat is always a flicker away from being extinguished.

Life comes to a close. Often through time spent and a life lived, but other times it ends before the first sapling even has a chance to experience sunlight.

We don’t know when and I sure can’t fathom the way the ruler of the universe operates, but death comes.

In this case before even taking a breath.

So the sting of winter might be just a little deeper. A child isn’t born, at least not a functioning child that gets to run and play and live and learn and grow. But that doesn’t mean there’s not love there. It doesn’t mean that there’s not significance.

There’s a soul there. One we won’t get to experience. A soul that maybe just didn’t need to be here and already had its ticket to someplace better. Hopefully a heaven full of frolicking and playing and all the stuff kids do down here.

My friend is hurting. His wife just lost their little baby boy. All I could say was “I’m sorry”, but it doesn’t seem enough. How do you tell him that it’s okay? I don’t. I just told him I’m here if he needs me.

And that little soul, I’m glad to know that there’s something bigger up there. That in the dark of winter, on one of the coldest days I’ve felt in a while, there’s a little warmth knowing that he’s home.

Spring will come, and cold outside will turn into the wet mushiness of life.  But not without a moment taken (at least by me) to look at one of those first flowers and say a whispered prayer.

~ Peace

The Burtle