But did you die?

In one moment I am soaring.  “You’ve been accepted into the respiratory program,” the email says.  The testing, prerequisite classes, interview and obnoxiously long waiting period has finally payed off with that one sentence.  I received the news while walking out of the BLS (basic lifesaving/CPR) class I was taking for work and even though there were still people taking a test a whoop escapes my mouth.  With a grin and a quick sorry to those still working I make my way out into the hallway and begin making calls to tell my loved ones.  I finally got in!  I have an end date!  I am going to be able to have a living wage!  My heart swells. Then comes the fear. I am so excited and a small thought pops into my head.  “You better not fail.”  From that one spore grows overwhelming self-doubt that threatens to take away everything I have worked toward.  It will start with something small like putting off getting a shot that I wi...

They say that writing is supposed to be therapeutic.  Today I found out that my brother is back in jail and I just needed to write my feelings.  I am not posting this for sympathy but maybe my words can help someone else who has someone they love who keeps making the same mistakes over and over again or maybe it will help the offender realize what they put their friends and family though when they don't change. D. A. Acevedo ***** I take a look at my phone and see an hour old text Call me as soon as you get this is all that it says Is Papi dead and has there been an accident These questions run though my head My finger shakes as I select dad’s name Of course… Your brother has been arrested He is back in jail I’m sorry I’m in a meeting I’ll call you when I am done My only reply is Of course… I am rather shocked that I don’t feel at all I expected some tears But he has acted odd Ever since his probation ended last month Something had been off Of cour...

Have a life filled with wonder. It is so easy to fall into a rut.  I get up, get the kids ready for school, drop them off, pick them up, eat lunch, put the kids down for nap, try to do homework, go to work or school, attempt to spend time with my wife, maybe watch a show, and then get a little sleep so that I can repeat it all again the next day. The weekend comes and I attempt to relax.  Rinse; lather; repeat. Before you know it it’s a week later and the to do boxes are mostly checked and everything starts over. I had a dream the other day that I had turned into a kid again.  In the dream I played and imagined.  I looked at the world and was filled with curiosity.  I didn’t know why flipping a switch turned on the lights, and it didn’t bother me.  I didn’t care about bills, car repairs, or what was happening on Facebook.  The biggest concern was whether or not we had any Totino’s Pizza for lunch.  ...

            No one who was taken from this box has come back.   I didn’t know, or perhaps I didn’t want to know, how it was that I found myself here.   It was dark, so dark that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.   Periodically, a blinding light would shine from above and when it finally receded, those who were left would breathe a sigh of relief.   Originally there were twenty of us.   Our names didn’t really matter; just the fact that we were not alone was enough to calm most of us down.   We’ve searched the walls by feeling the perimeter and have not been able to find an exit.   I had felt my way to a corner, thinking that whoever or whatever has been removing the others would be less likely to find me if I was huddled away in a corner.   I sat down to try and think when the bright light erupted from above again.           ...

“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ Matthew 25:45 This past week was a missions week at church.  To those who don't know, once a year my church brings in many of the missionaries that we support.  They share their struggles, triumphs, and plans.  It help bring home that what we do as a church matters. I was reminded this week that I have changed. I remember when I was young that I couldn't watch one of those "help the children" commercials without tearing up.  Now however, I found that in many instances I just didn't really care.  I would try to justify myself by saying that I am focusing on my families needs or that we already give financially, but really I have just hardened my heart.  I don't really pray for those I've committed to pray for as much as I should.  I don't really think about Valerine, the child we help support Ghana, t...

American's praise the individual.  Men, especially, are pushed to be self reliant, quiet, loners.  We struggle to tackle life's problems ourselves without ever asking for help.  By doing this we are proving we are strong, right? “The word "We" is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal the wisdom of the sages.  -Ayn Rand We do it alone.  We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.  We can blame no one but ourselves when we fail.  We achieve success by only caring for ourselves.  Right? Earlier this month I took time to get away with a group of men.  While we were spending time together we were learning some of what it means to be "Sons of Grace."  One of the b...