Where are you?

Where are you God?
I know you speak through the roaring wind.
But what about when I’m struggling,
and just need a good friend?

I see the mighty rivers, 
cutting pathways to the seas.
Know the power that you give them,
but right now, what about me?

I’ve seen the world from 15,000 feet
(Know all creation still bows beneath)
But do you hear me amidst the crowded city streets

I don’t doubt your presence
Nor do I question all you are
But in those moments when I struggle, 
God you feel so very far

And though I’ve often questioned
why a king would come and walk on dusty feet.
I still reach for you first 
when I don’t have the strength

Just show me that you 
haven’t forgotten my heart
Because the only reason I’ve made it this far
Is ‘cause I know who you are.

And as I pull the covers round me
Hide away deep in my own cocoon
Give me a sigh, a breath,
let me remember that you’ll be here... very soon.

Maybe I’ll wake up
As a butterfly springs to life
Out of the ashes
Leaving that pain behind

And in this world, as so many struggle
Can you give us a little more of your peace?
Let us take each other’s hand
And believe.

10/30/18
clc

~ for a friend, and also for the many who are searching for some meaning, amidst the turmoil we often find.

Windows down

60 degrees.  Brisk first breaths of Autumn.  Windows down.  Music turned up, a mix of David Bowie, Chris Stapleton, O.A.R. and Indigo Girls.  The city streets are alive, waiting to be conquered.

It’s that freedom that washes through the open cab of my 2001 Chevy Silverado.  And my spirit flies just as if soaring, similar to that feeling of free fall I experienced skydiving earlier this year.

Life will come back.  It’s a temporary pause.  But in those moments of soaring, zipping down North Avenue, Ponce, Peachtree Street, it’s time to just let my mind wander along the turns in the roads.  No immediate destination, but an end goal in mind.  Home, a feeling, a bizarre mix of recently healed loss and newfound safety.  Until arriving there it’s time to take a few moments for me.  To just be.

Sometimes I need that time alone with no thoughts as much as time focused on planning each day out.  Walking away for just a few moments to recenter.  Or better, driving out the stress of the day, through the lyrics of Wade Bowen’s ‘West Texas Rain’.

“I have been restless
I have been reckless
I’ve been a strain on my mom’s heart
I’ve been a drunk
I’ve been a dreamer
Pulling the strings on this old guitar

I’ve found a few answers
I’ve still got questions
Kept it together and fallen apart

I got secrets and stories
Old shoebox memories
And choices that I’d like to change
Teardrops and laughter
And me chasing after
Years that go as quick as they came
Like a west Texas rain
Like a west Texas rain

Well I’ve been a lover
I’ve been a father
I’ve been a brother
And I’ve been a son
Well I’ve been a preacher
I’ve been a sinner
If you can name it,
I’ve probably been one

I’m strong for the struggle
Constantly reaching,
Reaching for something that I’ve never down

And I got secrets and stories
Old shoebox memories
Choices that I’d like to change
I got teardrops and laughter
And me chasing after
Years that go as quick as they came
Like a west Texas rain
Like a west Texas rain

So close your eyes and hold on
We’re here and we’re gone
It goes as quick as it came
Just like a west Texas rain
Just like a west Texas rain
Just like a west Texas rain
Just like a west Texas rain”


Peace,
Chad

the truest love

He pushed her wheelchair across the parking deck towards the elevator.  She was in pain, with every little bump across the concrete sending a shudder through her wilting body.  It was difficult to mistake the tear that rested at the corner of his eye.  But he wouldn’t breakdown in front of her.  Not here.  He was there to do what she had done her entire life.  Steady things.  He was the voice, the preacher, the loud son of Mableton, Georgia.  She was the rock.  Quiet and reserved.  The anchor that allowed him to be what he was.  A scoundrel turned pastor.  A man of faith that was now having his own faith tested.

It came quick and painful.  A misdiagnosis, time wasted as her body succumbed.  It was Cancer.  And in 1986 the factors just didn’t add positive.  But even as the final result was painted rather clear, the path to her passing has only in recent years come into focus for me.

In 2007 I said goodbye to him.  He was the man I loved more than anyone in the universe.  More than I could even show on that day.  But in all this time I’ve acknowledged him, I’ve often kept her a mystery.  Not willing to tell this tale.  But it is a beautiful glimpse at their real story.  The truest love I have ever seen.

I never understood exactly what was going on as we went downtown.  That summer I stayed with them.  1986.  It was the summer before high school for me.  And my grandfather, through my parents, offered to pay me to stay with them and help around the house, do some chores.  To help her.  I gladly came.  I thought of it as freedom, and those of you who know my story might realize why that time away from home was precious and life sustaining.  But what I never realized was that I would be watching her die.

The trips to the hospital were a necessity.  Trying to save her life.  My grandfather was always there.  Always pushing the wheelchair.  He was somber in those trips.  Unlike the man I knew.  I watched him help her out of the Cadillac, her Cadillac.  That was something that he always tried to provide for her.  One material item that in some ways brought both of them out of the poor area where they met and grew up.  She pinched every penny and fed their young family through so many missionary churches and ministry jobs, always having just enough.  He never got her the convertible Mercedes that she wanted, but they always had one nice car.  And then his cars to ‘tinker’ on that often looked like an auto shop on their lawn.

He met her when she was still a child, though in many ways she was always older than everyone else around.  She was 14.  He was much older.  And they wed without either of their parents knowing.  Living apart but married.  She brought stability and calm.  He was the wild young man who could be heard coming from miles away, whether by car or on foot.  And he loved her.  I don’t think anyone who ever met them would have doubted that.  I don’t know as much of the story before my mom and her siblings came along, but as long as I could remember, they were always together.

It’s a story that Nicholas Sparks could only hope to create.  Two young lovers.  Faith.  Hope for something better.  As they traveled the countryside, she went with him, beside him, taking care of the areas that were her stronghold.  He would teach, talk to the community, and she would be working just as diligently beside him, or raising the three, then four kids that they conceived.  It wasn’t glamorous, but whoever said that true love was.  It’s not about Hollywood.  Lights, cameras, leading men and lovely ladies.  Love is real.  It’s not fickle or faint of heart.

As I saw her body laid to rest, those who knew them showed how true their devotion was.  All the years they had spent together in honest relationship sparked multiple connections throughout western Georgia.  I have never seen so many flowers and cards, people showing up from states away to honor her life.  It was a blur, but I realized after we walked out of the funeral home in Carrollton that I would never get to hear her get on to me, pop my butt or pinch my ear again.  And I wept.

Four years later I decided to go to West Georgia College.  Again, my grandfather offered for me to stay with him.  This time as his roommate/grandson.  It was a time for me to grow and get some independence and also a time to get to know him more.  Of the many lessons that he shared with me, often while sitting downstairs in his old recliner watching the Braves on channel 17 (TBS), was that he had loved.  Loved deeply and passionately.  He had his true love.  She came, and he watched her go.  And he did not regret any of it, not even the pain.  Because what is life without pain, joy, hurt, laughter, love.

He never remarried.  And I often thought he missed opportunity on another love, just like most of my family.  But he loved, and she loved him.  Loved deep and true.  What other human could hope to replace that?

Have you ever felt that?  

It was shortly after her passing that I got lost in the world of B-rate movies (John Cusack films and others like them).  Romantic Comedies that would always end with the loveable loser finally getting the girl.  Maybe not the girl he thought, but the right girl.  I’ve spent most of my life wanting the fiction.  And the one love I have had turned out to be far from reality.  You can’t hope for the fiction to become real.  That’s why it entertains us so, because it takes us into something that is Fantasy.  

But what I have seen, and now clearly understand is the reality of a simple country preacher, pushing his wife across the cement.  Carrying her to her death with humility, fear, heartache and the truest love.

to settle.

There is a fire that burns within each of us.  It first comes out as oxygen touches our throats and the roar of breath escapes our lungs.  At that moment there is nothing except the need to live, to scream, to never let anything hinder us.  There was silence and fluid and the cacophony of rhythm and sound that enveloped us, and we just wanted out.  To find the light we could barely imagine, and to suck on the marrow of what we knew had to come.  LIFE>!

We’re born to rise.  To walk.  To taste the first suckle of mother’s milk.  We crawl, then wobble, walk, then dance!  Never does it cross a baby’s mind that there is any less than the next hurdle.  I sat and watched all three of mine take those first steps.  I’ve seen two of them grow to near adulthood.  One still searching for the right direction and the other knowing where she wants to go, but not quite sure of the right path and how to get there.  I’ve seen the independent mind of my youngest as he questions everything.  “Why does this work?  What does that do?”

We were designed, yes, I said designed to create, to write, draw, sing, compute, add, subtract, multiply (in many ways!).  Even in the worst of circumstance, we can find light, hope, hum a tune, laughter.  We build skyscrapers and fly airplanes.  We have the ability to open hearts and motivate minds.  We can dream.

But what about the first time we give our dreams away?  What about when we take the easier path, or just decide to opt out of choosing, to sit and be complacent in our decisions.  When we settle.

I have been a fighter my entire life.  I have stood, even when those around me don’t realize it, and faced every foe that has attacked me from the age of 7 on.  But I’ve also settled for mediocracy instead of thriving.  I’ve licked my wounds from those battles while being less than what I was designed to be.  It’s easy to blame the past for not moving into the future, but to not even embrace the present?  Come on Chad, you’re better than that!!

I will not settle.

I’ve seen a good friend go back to the life she swore she’d never chose just for a comfortable arm around her neck and a strong form to lean on.

My last relationship was marred with the shadows of a former life.  Choosing a dead man over the living.  Stuck. 

Another friend is finding her way beyond fear and hurt towards a new footing on the unsettled ground of being alone.  It’s a hard path, but one that means leaving the codependency of the past and finding a new resolve in each day’s present.

I’ve met many people over the last year or so.  Many that I thought highly of.  Some with great potential. But there has always been some trait or habit, a way that we didn’t mesh, a belief, distance, something that made it a no.  And though there were a couple who absolutely made me smile, happy for a moment, thinking beyond just a date or two…I’m not willing to settle for less than spectacular.  For me.

Tonight, I sat for the second time with someone who has not only taken my breath, but also opened my eyes a little further to the truth.  I don’t have to settle.  There is a path and I am on it, with purpose and direction.  Will we walk far down this road?  I have no clue.  Though hopeful.  But beyond her, there is the truth that I am not done.  The obstacles and hurdles I’ve faced, as well as the ones to come are part of this journey.

I will not settle.

Like the newborn who sucks at the air and cries at the top of their lungs to be heard, to be seen, to be acknowledged.  I’m gonna make some noise!  I’m going to be… me.

Don’t settle.  In your work.  In your home, with your family.  Make deep, beautiful relationships that last.  Friendships that matter.  Create.  Breathe.  Dream.

Don’t leave this life unresolved.  Don’t settle.

Intelligence is sexy.

It’s in a word.  A group of words strung together and then danced around in a simple dialogue that provokes… teases.  Eyes caught in the moment, but not just raw emotion, attraction.  That’s obvious.  But the back and forth.  The thirst for knowledge and voice with another.  Sitting for hours just listening.  Understanding.  Follow up with a memory that the other’s words draw out.  Or feel the need to ask a question to gain more understanding.  Not lost for topics, or intellectual sparks.  Realizing that this pulls you in as much as the deep eyes that sparkle.  Or the smile, the lips that you hope to taste.

And when it is there.  It’s so freakin’ awesome!

The world shows us beauty, found in a fashion model, a movie star, an ‘endorsable’ former athlete.  George Clooney (though I have a feeling he’s pretty smart).  The Kardashians (not so smart).  But even George Hamilton (long, long time ago) had to age eventually.  Tom Brady will one day fail as a quarterback and even his schoolboy good looks will be wrinkled, though probably still lusted over by many a man or woman.

Beyond that, there is something very deep about finding the beauty that lies within.  It is where the heart, soul reside and makes each of us unique and special.  And I have come to the further realization that when you find a deep conversation comes out of the blue and peaks your interest, you hang on to it, savoring the moments.  It’s intoxicating in a way.  To talk about more than just the menu or the beer selection.

And there are very different ways that intelligence is shown.  It can be street-smarts with a keen knowledge of how the city breathes, grows, similar to detective Kate Beckett on the show Castle.  She was intuitive, hardnosed and driven.  Or like a young Stevie Nicks, creatively deep and embracing an understanding of musical colors and rhythm, like swaying trees under a Harvest Moon.  Some can be Politically, Socially, Economically accomplished.  Yes, there is something very intoxicating about them all.  Or it can be someone who knows how to read others, guide them through hard times and help them focus.  

Common interests.

Listening.

Easy Communication.

Time shared and moments that linger.

All showing me again... 

Intelligence is sexy!

Shed

Everyone left.  Yet I still survive.  I have found that I have the annoying quality of surviving!  And now, I’m tired of just surviving.  I want to thrive.  I want the chance to shed old skin and focus on the road, the path ahead.

Shed skin.  Shed unhealthy relationships.  Shed unwarranted expectations.  Shed pounds.  Shed tears.

Shed the uncertainty that I have always struggled with.  So, I sat inside Decatur City Church today and the pastor was talking about fear.  And then he brought up Hebrews 11.  “By faith Noah.… By faith Sarah…” 

By Faith Chad?

Hebrews 11:1
“...faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”

I hope.  I desperately want, but maybe I should just know.  Know that there will be someone who will come beside me.  Hell, there already is.  But it’s not a person.  It’s a being much bigger and much stronger than me.

My own personal faith is the only thing that has always been here beside me.  Sometimes pulling me a little bit along, other times pushing, but never taking over.  More guiding, trying to just help direct the way.

Maybe it’s time.

Without fear.  

Recklessly seeking.

Permission to do it on my terms,  not anyone else’s.

Irreverently Relevant.

Finding home.

I wait

I stand on the mountain top.  Eyes searching until my view drops off into the horizon.  I’m still looking.  Still searching.  Not for my faith, my father. Those I have found and they resonate, but for one person.  I come up here to breathe, to collect my thoughts, away from the world.  But I also know that here I am at my most vulnerable.  Here is where I am fully aware of just how small I really am, as I look below.  And though I’m not lonely, here is where I know how alone I truly am.

I stand still, listening to the breeze carried over the pines, the softwoods of the Appalachians.  I smell the air crisp with a hint of autumn’s arrival.  I wait.  I’ve been here before.  It’s where I go to heal.  And I’ve needed quite a healing this time.  This time I let my heart be totally exposed.  And (she) just about killed me.  But I still know I had to try.  To find myself opening up is the scariest thing I can do, yet I do.  I do willingly and often.  Though not to the depth that 2013 allowed.

Will you come?  I sincerely hope so.  I will wait for you.  I long for you.  I don’t know your face or your name, but my heart will know.  Even when it becomes bogged down with all that surrounds me, I know that it will know when you arrive.  I just hope that I am still standing.  Amongst the verdant hillside.  Atop a place that gives me breath enough to say “hello”.