Rides to School in an Old Mazda Pick-up

     Yesterday, I buried my brother. Everyone, even myself, say that blood is thicker. No one ever tells you how bad it hurts when it is ripped from your being like the vacuum of space. And it isn't that I am anger or feel that someone should have told me at some point in my life because I don't think it would have mattered. I would still feel the shards of sorrow and anger that have torn my heart to pieces. Yet, I can't help but think, I wish someone would have. I wish someone would have told me how mentally and physically crippling such a loss can be or that roses on a casket isn't that last time you'll cry. Perhaps then I could have been a bit more prepared.
     It has been 11 days since Rory passed away and I still find myself in disbelief and that any minute hes going to walk through the door (without knocking as was his way) as if nothing happened. I know it will get easier but, sometimes I wonder if I want it to get easier. Sometimes I think I don't want it to get easier because, I fear that if it does I will forget the little things that made my older brother who he was. The wide set stance he had, every monkey bump that he gave me, the starry wonder that lay in his eyes. I could tell you stories for countless nights but perhaps we can save that for another time. Instead let me tell you who Rory was. My brother was one of the most passionate people I know, really I could say that about any of my siblings. He had a fire that drove him. All that he did was for family, for myself, for all his girls. I like to think that Rory was a sainted sinner. Generosity was one of his greatest qualities. Farms saved and fixed car problems filled my ears this past week. Genuine friends and sincere hearts filled the church yesterday. I wish I could tell you more but at this time I do not believe I can stomach it.
       We're all travelers, all on the same road to Damascus. Take note of those around you. Make well with those in your caravan. As always stay humble and stay blessed friends.

Damascus is Calling

There is a question I ask myself on a daily basis. It seems simple enough I suppose yet, to answer is not quite so easy. And the question is this, "Why do you go?" Let us not confuse this question with, where do you go. Where can be quite subjective considering the ominous where in life can shift and sometimes constantly, depending on the will of The Creator. But, why? Now there is a question that will bring anyone to a state of reflection. For what purpose do you go? To what end do you struggle to accomplish? Family? Self-gratification? What drives you? To be honest I have found that the answer to this question more times than not has multiple answers, rarely is it a singular cause. Then we are faced with the dilemma of how do we answer such things. Frankly, it is quite simple. What is calling you? What do you see when you are at your breaking point? What idea tugs on you as if someone had tied a kite around you body? I know its short but, nonetheless it has been my food for thought recently. Until next we meet (which I hope to be relatively soon) stay blessed friends.