(The following is an excerpt from a book I am currently writing. Comments are welcome.)
As he stood there reading and re-reading their names in the dull, forlorn marble, wondering where the last three years of his life had gone, Austin began to imagine what it would have been like if that accident had never happened. It was early January and the morning dew was still clinging to the blades of grass, soaking through his jeans as he knelt in front of their grave markers. The wind had a chill to it that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before, and the freezing rain gently pattering against his face and hands was beginning to make his whole body feel numb. As he pressed the cold steel to his temple, he briefly wondered if anyone would even miss him once he was gone. After all, there in front of him, buried beneath the earth, was everything – everyone – that he cherished in his life.
As a particularly bitter cold gust of wind rushed through his wool overcoat, he found himself strangely amused by the idea of whether he would feel the searing heat from the muzzle blast in his last moment. It was the first time he had felt anything but overwhelming depression since he awoke from the coma eight days ago. But now he was here; at the end of his life, not wanting to take the time to think about the past, for fear that it might give him some reason to live on in this miserable existence. Dragging out this depression was the last thing he wanted to do.
As Austin thought about their faces; his beautiful wife, two amazing boys, and his sweet, affectionate daughter, all he wanted – all he longed for – was to join them. To wrap them up in his arms and hold onto them forever. He closed his eyes and could see them all, clear as though they were standing right in front of him.
Mark and David were roughing around in the yard, rolling over one another, each trying to pry whatever it was they were fighting over from the other’s hands. Lizzy, as usual, was standing over them with a look of contemptuous disappointment on her face. Austin suppressed a chuckle recalling that she had inherited that look from her mother, and she always donned it perfectly every time the boys fought over something. Their mother – “My dear, sweet Elizabeth” he said aloud as he thought of her – was sitting in her lawn chair under the shade of the big oak tree, occasionally looking over the worn pages of her favorite book just to make sure they weren’t getting too rough. “Easy now” she would calmly say intermittently just to remind them she was there watching. It was her token phrase, and just thinking of her voice made Austin yearn that much more to see her, to be with her again.
That seemed a fitting thought to go out with. All that was left to do now was to gently squeeze the trigger…
Then it happened. Quite suddenly he was brought out of his daydreaming by a swift blow that had landed on the back of his right arm. The pistol had been knocked free from his hand, and next moment he was fully collapsed with the weight of a grown man upon his back. He knew instantly that it was in fact a rather strong, well-built man who now lay forcefully upon his back due to the brutish nature in which he had been tackled to the ground. Taken by surprise, Austin didn’t realize he’d actually been injured until he felt a warm trickle flowing down the side of his face followed by a searing pain. He realized that his right cheek must’ve grazed the corner of the grave marker when he fell, and was now pouring blood down into his eyes and nose.
“Easy now” whispered a rather gravely voice just behind Austin’s left ear. He instantly thought of Elizabeth and that this man must’ve known her. To choose these as his first words to Austin must’ve been the man’s way of trying to reassure him of that very fact. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he continued, “and I must take you alive. I will explain everything later, but for now I am going to release you. You in turn are going to slowly rise to your feet, dust yourself off, and then you’re going to leave this place with me at once.”
“Why would I do that?” Austin questioned in as tough and defiant voice as he could, suppressing the pain that was made even worse when his mouth moved. His words were barely audible given that his face was currently being pressed hard into the ground. But the man apparently had no trouble hearing him. His face was, after all, mere inches away from Austin’s.
“Because” whispered the stranger, “your family is still alive. I can help you find them. But first you must do something for me.” The stranger paused for a moment before adding, “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. You’re a difficult man to find, Mr. Pierce, especially with the Devotees keeping you so well hidden. But quickly now. We must go before they find us here. There will be time to speak once we are on our way.”
Friday, November 13, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Home again, home again
Wow. So I realize its been freaking forever since I've blogged. Its not because I haven't had anything to blog about...I just either haven't had time or haven't thought about it. I'm still pretty new at all of this, so you'll have to forgive me.
There have been some changes to the Shepherd Clan as of late. In the first part of October we moved to a new apartment. While it was somewhat overwhelming, we are pretty excited about our new place! Its actually an old denim factory that has been converted into several really urban "loft apartments". Our new place is much cooler than anywhere we've lived, and I think it really expresses our style better as well. You can see pics of the new place on my facebook page by clicking on the facebook badge.
The boys had their first real Halloween experience last weekend! They're both into this thing where they crouch down and roar like dinosaurs, so Sarah thought it appropriate that they should dress as dinosaurs to go trick-or-treating! They had such a great time, and came home with a TON of candy in each of their plastic pumpkins. Again...pics on my facebook page!
We also discovered that there is a beautiful park within a less-than-10-minute walk from our front door at our new place. The boys love playing on the rolling hills of the park, as well as running through the wide open spaces. We are certainly looking forward to the duration of our stay at the Loft more than anywhere else we've lived. There are two downsides to the new place, though. One of which is that it is about an extra 10-20 minute drive for me to get to work during the week (depending on time of day, the traffic can be horrific). The other is that it is only a two-bedroom apartment, which means we're ALL trying to adjust to the boys sharing a room for the first time in their lives. After a month of being here, it has gotten somewhat smoother. But we are still working out the kinks, and probably will be for some time.
On a totally unrelated note; I have given thought (again) at trying my hand at writing a book. I've got more time to sit and think of nothing in my longer commutes, which lends itself to my mind wandering uncontrolled and unrestrained... I haven't determined if that's a good thing or not, but I've been trying to log some of the ideas and "visions" (if I may use that term in this context) to come back and work on them later. I haven't really even begun to settle on a story line, but this is my most ambitious - and yet somehow realistic - topic yet.
More on all of this to come later. In the meantime I will try to get better at posting more regularly!
There have been some changes to the Shepherd Clan as of late. In the first part of October we moved to a new apartment. While it was somewhat overwhelming, we are pretty excited about our new place! Its actually an old denim factory that has been converted into several really urban "loft apartments". Our new place is much cooler than anywhere we've lived, and I think it really expresses our style better as well. You can see pics of the new place on my facebook page by clicking on the facebook badge.
The boys had their first real Halloween experience last weekend! They're both into this thing where they crouch down and roar like dinosaurs, so Sarah thought it appropriate that they should dress as dinosaurs to go trick-or-treating! They had such a great time, and came home with a TON of candy in each of their plastic pumpkins. Again...pics on my facebook page!
We also discovered that there is a beautiful park within a less-than-10-minute walk from our front door at our new place. The boys love playing on the rolling hills of the park, as well as running through the wide open spaces. We are certainly looking forward to the duration of our stay at the Loft more than anywhere else we've lived. There are two downsides to the new place, though. One of which is that it is about an extra 10-20 minute drive for me to get to work during the week (depending on time of day, the traffic can be horrific). The other is that it is only a two-bedroom apartment, which means we're ALL trying to adjust to the boys sharing a room for the first time in their lives. After a month of being here, it has gotten somewhat smoother. But we are still working out the kinks, and probably will be for some time.
On a totally unrelated note; I have given thought (again) at trying my hand at writing a book. I've got more time to sit and think of nothing in my longer commutes, which lends itself to my mind wandering uncontrolled and unrestrained... I haven't determined if that's a good thing or not, but I've been trying to log some of the ideas and "visions" (if I may use that term in this context) to come back and work on them later. I haven't really even begun to settle on a story line, but this is my most ambitious - and yet somehow realistic - topic yet.
More on all of this to come later. In the meantime I will try to get better at posting more regularly!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Play the Cards as they Lie
An observation...
I think about my infatuation for poker and my love of the game. And as I sit here typing this blog at midnight after an unsuccessful night at the tables in the digital realm, I examine the idea behind the phrase, "you make the best of the cards life deals you".
In poker (Texas Hold 'Em in particular) you don't just make the best of the cards you're dealt. You see, the game is as much (if not more) about misleading and pushing around the other players as it is about knowing what hands to fold. If you're dealt a 7-2 off-suit (the worst pocket hand in poker), you throw it away every time. That is unless of course you're in the Big Blind and no one has raised pre-flop. You're already pot committed and you can either attempt to buy the hand by moving in with an over-the-top bet, or you can check it to the flop and hope you get lucky.
For those who don't follow poker, you're probably a bit confused by now. You may want to skip this entry as it is going to only get worse for you from here.
So, in this instance, there isn't much you can do with your crap hand. You can either ride it out and hope you hit something good, or you throw it away. When there's money on the table, most (if not all) good poker players muck a 7-2.
The observation is this...if life deals you a 7-2 off-suit, you can either throw it away and grumble about the hand, you can represent something far better (this is where the over-the-top bet comes in), or you can wait it out and see if your hand improves.
Here's the thing. If life is a poker table, then God is the dealer. I know...its a stretch, but bear with me. You see, the Lord doesn't want us to throw away our lives simply because we're unhappy with the way things are. He also doesn't want to see us "buy the pot" by bluffing everyone out, because this would be like keeping people at arm's length and not letting them see the work He can do within us. He just wants us to ride it out and give Him the honor when we make a great hand.
If you don't catch a stellar hand on the Flop, all is not necessarily lost. You may strike 2 pair come the Turn, and even a possible Full-House or Flush by the time the River hits. There is much more strategy to poker than this, but I'm sure you get the idea.
My point is this;
As long as we ride it out, the Dealer can make a winning hand out of just about any cards we're dealt...
I think about my infatuation for poker and my love of the game. And as I sit here typing this blog at midnight after an unsuccessful night at the tables in the digital realm, I examine the idea behind the phrase, "you make the best of the cards life deals you".
In poker (Texas Hold 'Em in particular) you don't just make the best of the cards you're dealt. You see, the game is as much (if not more) about misleading and pushing around the other players as it is about knowing what hands to fold. If you're dealt a 7-2 off-suit (the worst pocket hand in poker), you throw it away every time. That is unless of course you're in the Big Blind and no one has raised pre-flop. You're already pot committed and you can either attempt to buy the hand by moving in with an over-the-top bet, or you can check it to the flop and hope you get lucky.
For those who don't follow poker, you're probably a bit confused by now. You may want to skip this entry as it is going to only get worse for you from here.
So, in this instance, there isn't much you can do with your crap hand. You can either ride it out and hope you hit something good, or you throw it away. When there's money on the table, most (if not all) good poker players muck a 7-2.
The observation is this...if life deals you a 7-2 off-suit, you can either throw it away and grumble about the hand, you can represent something far better (this is where the over-the-top bet comes in), or you can wait it out and see if your hand improves.
Here's the thing. If life is a poker table, then God is the dealer. I know...its a stretch, but bear with me. You see, the Lord doesn't want us to throw away our lives simply because we're unhappy with the way things are. He also doesn't want to see us "buy the pot" by bluffing everyone out, because this would be like keeping people at arm's length and not letting them see the work He can do within us. He just wants us to ride it out and give Him the honor when we make a great hand.
If you don't catch a stellar hand on the Flop, all is not necessarily lost. You may strike 2 pair come the Turn, and even a possible Full-House or Flush by the time the River hits. There is much more strategy to poker than this, but I'm sure you get the idea.
My point is this;
As long as we ride it out, the Dealer can make a winning hand out of just about any cards we're dealt...
Monday, April 27, 2009
The Never Ending Story...Continued...
Where to begin?
Well, with much disappointment, we got some news yesterday that changed our plans with the old farm house.
As I stood in the living room talking to the owner, a few things came up that hadn't in previous conversation. Namely the fact that the property is set to be sold on an as-of-yet undetermined date, but likely within the next 6 months to a year.
I had decided that I could get past the shortcomings of the house itself in exchange for the setting and the savings, but I can't come to terms with the idea of uprooting my family AGAIN as soon as 6 months from now.
Which got me thinking...how many places have we seen as a family. So, here for your enjoyment-slash-scrutinizing; the list of Shepherd households from the date Sarah and I got married:
March 2005 - Sarah moved into my apartment after my wedding
April 2005 - Sarah and I lived a short stint at my mom's in preparation for moving to Georgia
May 2005 - Powder Springs, GA: a small 3 bedroom house that had ants living in the joist space between the basement and the main floor (if you left a crumb on the carpet, it was consumed by ants within minutes)
October 2005 - Canton, GA: a new build for a good price. 4 bedrooms on a tiny lot (measured approximately 8 feet from my back door to the drop-off that was the property line)
August 2006 - Canton, GA: small, 2 bedroom, second floor apartment where I eventually got about a dozen teenagers arrested for throwing a loud, drunk, pot-smoking party above me....every weekend
August 2007 - After living at a residence for a FULL YEAR, we decided to head back to Texas so I could go back to school and so our boys could get to know my side of the family...we lived at mom's while I looked for a job and a place to live
September 2007 - Greeville, TX: a quaint little 3 bedroom house on historic Park Street
March 2008 - Back to Georgia...stayed with Sarah's dad and stepmom while we looked for our own place...yet again
April 2008 - Woodstock, GA: moved into a two bedroom apartment where Sarah and I slept on the sofa-bed in the living room because the boys' sleeping patterns were so different
October 2008 - Woodstock, GA: moved into our current third floor, 3 bedroom apartment so we could have our own room and to get away from all the creeps that hung out outside our front windows almost every night
Man...after actually writing that down for the first time, I finally realize how pathetic it is. I've grown so weary of moving over and over and over...and now I understand why.
As Sarah and I search out our next place, I can only hope that it will be with some kind of permanence and security where my boys can grow up and grow accustomed to the place. The smell of the grass, unique to our neighborhood. The curves of the road (I remember growing up that, if I fell asleep in the car ride home, I would sometimes wake up because even my body developed a sort of memory of the dips, curves, and speed patterns as we approached our driveway). The creaks in that particular floor space. That they would be able to find their way around the house even when the lights are out because they've walked the path so often that it's become second nature.
And so it goes. The never ending search for permanence begins with the next new thing...
Well, with much disappointment, we got some news yesterday that changed our plans with the old farm house.
As I stood in the living room talking to the owner, a few things came up that hadn't in previous conversation. Namely the fact that the property is set to be sold on an as-of-yet undetermined date, but likely within the next 6 months to a year.
I had decided that I could get past the shortcomings of the house itself in exchange for the setting and the savings, but I can't come to terms with the idea of uprooting my family AGAIN as soon as 6 months from now.
Which got me thinking...how many places have we seen as a family. So, here for your enjoyment-slash-scrutinizing; the list of Shepherd households from the date Sarah and I got married:
March 2005 - Sarah moved into my apartment after my wedding
April 2005 - Sarah and I lived a short stint at my mom's in preparation for moving to Georgia
May 2005 - Powder Springs, GA: a small 3 bedroom house that had ants living in the joist space between the basement and the main floor (if you left a crumb on the carpet, it was consumed by ants within minutes)
October 2005 - Canton, GA: a new build for a good price. 4 bedrooms on a tiny lot (measured approximately 8 feet from my back door to the drop-off that was the property line)
August 2006 - Canton, GA: small, 2 bedroom, second floor apartment where I eventually got about a dozen teenagers arrested for throwing a loud, drunk, pot-smoking party above me....every weekend
August 2007 - After living at a residence for a FULL YEAR, we decided to head back to Texas so I could go back to school and so our boys could get to know my side of the family...we lived at mom's while I looked for a job and a place to live
September 2007 - Greeville, TX: a quaint little 3 bedroom house on historic Park Street
March 2008 - Back to Georgia...stayed with Sarah's dad and stepmom while we looked for our own place...yet again
April 2008 - Woodstock, GA: moved into a two bedroom apartment where Sarah and I slept on the sofa-bed in the living room because the boys' sleeping patterns were so different
October 2008 - Woodstock, GA: moved into our current third floor, 3 bedroom apartment so we could have our own room and to get away from all the creeps that hung out outside our front windows almost every night
Man...after actually writing that down for the first time, I finally realize how pathetic it is. I've grown so weary of moving over and over and over...and now I understand why.
As Sarah and I search out our next place, I can only hope that it will be with some kind of permanence and security where my boys can grow up and grow accustomed to the place. The smell of the grass, unique to our neighborhood. The curves of the road (I remember growing up that, if I fell asleep in the car ride home, I would sometimes wake up because even my body developed a sort of memory of the dips, curves, and speed patterns as we approached our driveway). The creaks in that particular floor space. That they would be able to find their way around the house even when the lights are out because they've walked the path so often that it's become second nature.
And so it goes. The never ending search for permanence begins with the next new thing...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Never Ending Story
Its a beautiful Saturday afternoon at the Shepherd household. The boys are napping and I am trying to relax after a week of running like crazy at work.
It seems like the same old story for me. Nothing ever changes. We're discontented by where we live, how we live, and the general state of things. Looking out the window of my third floor apartment, I gaze over all the cars that seem to never move and wonder why I feel like I have to keep up with the Joneses when the truth of the matter is, my car sits still 90% of the time.
I can't stand the climb up three flights of stairs every day, but I can't find a more suitable place that I can afford to live in. Right now we're looking at the potential to move into a house that is situated on the edge of a horse farm. While the home isn't much to look at and is certainly not what I envision raising my boys in, it does offer some sentiment that is undeniably unique.
As I pulled up into the dirt-slash-gravel drive, I first noted that there was no garage. My first notion was...well...this is lame. But then, I have no garage here at my apartment complex either, so why is it that big of a deal? But when I stepped out of the car, the fragrace overwhelmed me. Something about it brought me home. The scent of unspoiled grass and wilderness with the slight aroma of horse "fertilizer" struck me instantly and reminded me of Nonni's place back in Texas (for those who don't know, "Nonni" is the name my mom adopted for herself when she first became a grandmother). In that moment, I can honestly say I felt like I was home.
As I walked in the front door, the professional remodeler inside me started immediately pointing things out that needed changing. Tiny kitchen. Wood paneling...everywhere. Inefficient windows. Outdated fixtures and appliances. This house, as it is, is in desperate need of a makeover. At least that's what I kept telling myself. I walked past the three bedrooms and two bathrooms into a huge family room on the back of the house. In my mind began the formation of a game room with a pool table at one end and a poker table at the other with a big tv hanging on the wall somewhere in between.
For some reason, though, I kept telling myself, "There's so much to do here. It'll take so much work for me to be happy in this house". The simple truth is, that's not true at all. If I can step past my pre-conceived notions on what a house is supposed to look like on the inside, I can make this house a home.
I walked out the door with the boys in tow and suddenly they blew by me like the bumble bees circling overhead. They had spotted adventure in the half acre or so that we were standing on and they were seeking it out. They were home.
I kept telling myself not to get attached. Why? They love it here! Its close to where I work and where Sarah works, but still removed from the crazy, busy traffic that is Acworth, Georgia. I could see myself turning this beat up, old "handy-man" special into a beautiful, quaint cottage with just some materials and time. Sarah fell in love with it as quickly as the boys did. The rent is significantly less than what I pay now. The owner-slash-landlord is the chairman of deacons at my church and he lives just around the corner. The setting is serene. I begin to think, "I could like it here".
So why not? The discussions are in the works, and we should know in a couple of days if we'll be moving again. But not to another temporary dwelling...this time, to a "home".
It seems like the same old story for me. Nothing ever changes. We're discontented by where we live, how we live, and the general state of things. Looking out the window of my third floor apartment, I gaze over all the cars that seem to never move and wonder why I feel like I have to keep up with the Joneses when the truth of the matter is, my car sits still 90% of the time.
I can't stand the climb up three flights of stairs every day, but I can't find a more suitable place that I can afford to live in. Right now we're looking at the potential to move into a house that is situated on the edge of a horse farm. While the home isn't much to look at and is certainly not what I envision raising my boys in, it does offer some sentiment that is undeniably unique.
As I pulled up into the dirt-slash-gravel drive, I first noted that there was no garage. My first notion was...well...this is lame. But then, I have no garage here at my apartment complex either, so why is it that big of a deal? But when I stepped out of the car, the fragrace overwhelmed me. Something about it brought me home. The scent of unspoiled grass and wilderness with the slight aroma of horse "fertilizer" struck me instantly and reminded me of Nonni's place back in Texas (for those who don't know, "Nonni" is the name my mom adopted for herself when she first became a grandmother). In that moment, I can honestly say I felt like I was home.
As I walked in the front door, the professional remodeler inside me started immediately pointing things out that needed changing. Tiny kitchen. Wood paneling...everywhere. Inefficient windows. Outdated fixtures and appliances. This house, as it is, is in desperate need of a makeover. At least that's what I kept telling myself. I walked past the three bedrooms and two bathrooms into a huge family room on the back of the house. In my mind began the formation of a game room with a pool table at one end and a poker table at the other with a big tv hanging on the wall somewhere in between.
For some reason, though, I kept telling myself, "There's so much to do here. It'll take so much work for me to be happy in this house". The simple truth is, that's not true at all. If I can step past my pre-conceived notions on what a house is supposed to look like on the inside, I can make this house a home.
I walked out the door with the boys in tow and suddenly they blew by me like the bumble bees circling overhead. They had spotted adventure in the half acre or so that we were standing on and they were seeking it out. They were home.
I kept telling myself not to get attached. Why? They love it here! Its close to where I work and where Sarah works, but still removed from the crazy, busy traffic that is Acworth, Georgia. I could see myself turning this beat up, old "handy-man" special into a beautiful, quaint cottage with just some materials and time. Sarah fell in love with it as quickly as the boys did. The rent is significantly less than what I pay now. The owner-slash-landlord is the chairman of deacons at my church and he lives just around the corner. The setting is serene. I begin to think, "I could like it here".
So why not? The discussions are in the works, and we should know in a couple of days if we'll be moving again. But not to another temporary dwelling...this time, to a "home".
Monday, April 13, 2009
Another Year Behind...What New Adventure Lies Ahead?
So today I turned 26. I jokingly tell people that I'm now "almost 30" because the next milestone for me is the big 3-0. In retrospect, all the other milestones carry something truly significant to one's life...but what do I have to look forward to now but getting older?
Age 1 - big deal because it's your FIRST BIRTHDAY EVER
Age 5 - most people start school
Age 10 - your double digits now, boy!
Age 13 - officially a teenager...
Age 16 - hand over the keys mom, I'm goin' cruisin' in the minivan!
Age 18 - smokes, porn, and the armed forces...they kinda seem to all go hand in hand
Age 21 - finally buying suds...legally
Age 25 - get a little brake on your car insurance (assuming you're a good driver)
But what now? Everything from here out is just a milestone of getting older. I guess 30 could be the age of a midlife crisis. But then, what exactly is that? You go pretend to be younger and hipper than you actually are because you realize you're losing grip with your youth! 40 is the big "over the hill" year because you've accepted that you're probably now closer to the year of your death than the year of your birth.
But in the end, I don't think it's our age that defines who we are. Rather, it's what we do with the time the Lord gives us that will be our legacy. Nobody is going to remember my crazy 21st birthday gig once we're all dead and gone. But those we leave behind will (hopefully) have great and inspiring memories of who we were and the impact we made in the world.
I am just beginning to taste what life as a dad has in store for me. My boys are rowdy and rambunctious when they get rowled up. But they're also sweet and compassionate and deliberately lovable when they wind down. The recent incident with Ian and his stitches has made me a little bit anxious about what the future holds for them, but I can't wait to be there to experience it all. Its a right of passage for boys.
Just as the scars we bare on our flesh remind us where we've been and how to not make that mistake again...or at least to be more careful, the emotional scars we keep hidden help guide us to be better people. And I think that the Lord allows us to get bruised up and cut up from time to time so that we can also remember who it is that picks us up when we fall, and who it is that mends our wounded hearts.
I know there will be terrific and terrifying adventures ahead, and that those will now be the milestones of my life. Maybe that's what its about when you cross the "25 threshold". Maybe my life has finally begun. And to those adventures ahead...I say, "bring it on"...
Age 1 - big deal because it's your FIRST BIRTHDAY EVER
Age 5 - most people start school
Age 10 - your double digits now, boy!
Age 13 - officially a teenager...
Age 16 - hand over the keys mom, I'm goin' cruisin' in the minivan!
Age 18 - smokes, porn, and the armed forces...they kinda seem to all go hand in hand
Age 21 - finally buying suds...legally
Age 25 - get a little brake on your car insurance (assuming you're a good driver)
But what now? Everything from here out is just a milestone of getting older. I guess 30 could be the age of a midlife crisis. But then, what exactly is that? You go pretend to be younger and hipper than you actually are because you realize you're losing grip with your youth! 40 is the big "over the hill" year because you've accepted that you're probably now closer to the year of your death than the year of your birth.
But in the end, I don't think it's our age that defines who we are. Rather, it's what we do with the time the Lord gives us that will be our legacy. Nobody is going to remember my crazy 21st birthday gig once we're all dead and gone. But those we leave behind will (hopefully) have great and inspiring memories of who we were and the impact we made in the world.
I am just beginning to taste what life as a dad has in store for me. My boys are rowdy and rambunctious when they get rowled up. But they're also sweet and compassionate and deliberately lovable when they wind down. The recent incident with Ian and his stitches has made me a little bit anxious about what the future holds for them, but I can't wait to be there to experience it all. Its a right of passage for boys.
Just as the scars we bare on our flesh remind us where we've been and how to not make that mistake again...or at least to be more careful, the emotional scars we keep hidden help guide us to be better people. And I think that the Lord allows us to get bruised up and cut up from time to time so that we can also remember who it is that picks us up when we fall, and who it is that mends our wounded hearts.
I know there will be terrific and terrifying adventures ahead, and that those will now be the milestones of my life. Maybe that's what its about when you cross the "25 threshold". Maybe my life has finally begun. And to those adventures ahead...I say, "bring it on"...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
A Work in Progress...
So this is the new craze as I understand it. Unlike social networking in that you don't really have a way to immediately connect with anyone and everyone you've ever met through the course of your life. But similar in that it allows you, the reader, to get a more intimate glimpse into the goings-on of my life at your leisure.
So I've decided that this would be the new avenue for you, my friends and family, to get to see a side of me that normally isn't put out there for all the world to see. From here, you will have access to view and critique my photography as I begin to devote more time to it.
You'll also get to see more of the important, as well as perhaps less significant moments in my life and that of my family (without all the chaos that comes from social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook).
I'm kind of new to this whole blogging thing, so please bare with me as we begin this journey together.
More to come soon...but for now, I've got to hit the sack...
So I've decided that this would be the new avenue for you, my friends and family, to get to see a side of me that normally isn't put out there for all the world to see. From here, you will have access to view and critique my photography as I begin to devote more time to it.
You'll also get to see more of the important, as well as perhaps less significant moments in my life and that of my family (without all the chaos that comes from social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook).
I'm kind of new to this whole blogging thing, so please bare with me as we begin this journey together.
More to come soon...but for now, I've got to hit the sack...
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