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.

Rest for the Weary

I was reminded this week of 'sabbath'.

Sabbath

 noun

To save this word, you'll need to log in.

Log In 

Definition of Sabbath

1a: the seventh day of the week observed from Friday evening to Saturday evening as a day of rest and worship by Jews and some Christians

b: Sunday observed among Christians as a day of rest and worship

2: a time of rest

A sabbath is more than rest.  More than going to a building to worship.  It’s also a spiritual reset.  We often overlook the soul part of our journey.  It has to be fed as well.  Regardless of faith/belief system.

Inside us ticks an internal clock, a countdown.  As we live and breathe we are moving toward the conclusion that life ends.  It does - haven't found many eternals around (except the excruciatingly awful movie Marvel put out recently).  For many this means overloading each and every day with activities - ours, our kids, friends; yet we often overlook the simple need to feed and tend to our lives.  Where we are right this moment.

Breathing is a gift.  The fresh air.  Moments of calm (often before a week that already has some challenges and obstacles that might come our way).  Walking and meditating.  I once had a friend tell me that you couldn't meditate while moving.  I disagree.  Yoga.  Quiet sunday walks before embarking on the often tedious endeavour to find a place to worship.  I hear Him when I'm walking - even when I have music plugged in, He speaks clearly at times.  Like his voice echoes what I'm hearing - or gives me a new thought or promise.

I know that there are things I can't avoid today - laundry, groceries, and things I look forward to - hearing a friend tell her story this evening.  And today I'm taking a sabbath.  I have things I'd like to get done, but in the bigger scope of life a walk, a nap, time praying and meditating are part of my recharge before taking on the week ahead.

I've heard many messages while communing with nature, with God.  What speaks to you?  Where will you sabbath?  

~ Peace

The Burtle

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

~ Matthew 11:28-30

Forgiveness

After 17 months, 518 days and 836 meetings, it comes down to forgiveness.

And that’s what today (court) is truly about.  I get to stand up and acknowledge not only the pain I felt deeply and lashed out on others without remorse, but also say to the little boy who doesn’t understand why Daddy’s not always present, “I’m sorry”.  

Not in words.  But in actions.  

In 17 months of living a different life.  

And I get to do one other thing.

I get to forgive myself.  

For the guilt and pain I’ve held onto.  The things I wish I could have done differently.  

Let it go.

There will be other hard days.  But each day I live in the Spirit (Romans 8) I can truly breathe.

So, here it goes…

“I forgive me.”

~ Peace

The Burtle

after tears and loss, 

each day I find

I'm still here, 

and I move on

til the end.

I do not know

how each day will go

but through tears,

through heartache

loss, hurt

I let it go

04/21/22

clc

pEEPS

Quite squishy on the inside,

Crusty outer shells.

Looks like neon vomit at times.

Filled with diabetic coma levels of sugar 

and a stomach ache ready to happen

Yep…

I’m talking about my friends - Bwahaha!!!

Community

Tribe

The people we choose to do life with.

Those who I chose to be:

Vulnerable 

Trusted

& Safe with.

And not just at Easter!

I love the term “the Communion of the Saints”.  It’s a term passed around in some of the more liturgical churches.  And though not part of my own upbringing, it has always meant something.  Us, we, coming together = not just in a church service, but in life.  Serving others without thought of reward or social media ‘likes’.  Jesus chose Twelve.  Many others chose Him.  Mary, Martha, Lazarus, the rich young ruler, Zacheus.  I’m not getting preachy, just the reality that Jesus was a man who walked among THE PEOPLE.  His Peeps were Low-lifes (prostitutes, gays, thieves, murderers), fishermen (working class), Tax collectors, The racially unaccepted… the list goes on people.  He really got ‘community’!

My peeps have changed in recent years, yet I know how important they are.  Some remain, some drift off, others come in.  But it's important that there are some who seem to always show up (and if you know me, that's the biggest deal.  Just show up!).

I’ve had to learn that We is much stronger than Me.  This extremely extroverted introvert shudders at that thought!!  You mean I have to open up, AGAIN, to others!  Haven’t I learned this lesson already?  Trust again?  Believe in others again?

Breathe…

It starts with a nod to god, a silent prayer that he’s got this.  All of us.  

“God, grant me the Serenity…”

No, there is no Easter Bunny coming to visit each of you this Sunday morning (wouldn’t that be creepy as Hell?!?!).  I’m not gonna leave a crappy marshmallowy, sugar-filled treat; they will just make your teeth hurt, your stomach sour.  I do want to give these few words.  So, if you’re reading this, whether it be a new friend or my deepest companions over the years, here they are…

I love you all.  Yes, ALL of you.

Deeply.

Damn Peeps!

~ Peace

The Burtle