tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74134014212247895612024-03-14T03:46:22.013-07:00...from the inside...An honest look at our imperfect life - continually being transformed by a perfect Savior....fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-5636880663524537512012-02-09T12:01:00.000-08:002012-02-10T06:42:13.345-08:00I'm baaa-aaaaaack!!!!<div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Fan Heiti Std B","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt;">On the 12th of this month it'll be seven months that I've been out...I have not written and I have no excuse...like Lump reminded me last night, we choose to do what we really want to do. (I hate it when she reminds me of stuff I teach). So I'm up early tapping on the keys...which actually is a lot different than how I had to do it while I was locked up paying my debt to society. There were no computers where I was at, so I hammered my blogs out the old school way, pen and paper, snail mailed them to Lump and then she would edit my mess and post it. </span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div class="Body1"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Fan Heiti Std B","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt;">So, I'm back. Kind of sort of because it's been on my mind to write for quite a while now, but also from the prompting of a conversation I had last night with my Aunt Jean....oh how I love me some Aunt Jean. She has no idea how instrumental she has been in my life. More on that perhaps at another time, but for now...hold tight...give me a few days and let's do this thing together again. </span></div><div class="Body1"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="Body1" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Fan Heiti Std B","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt;">...from the inside...</span></div><div align="right" class="Body1" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="Body1" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Fan Heiti Std B","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt;">BIG LOVE,</span></div><div align="right" class="Body1" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="Body1" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Adobe Fan Heiti Std B","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt;">ray-ray</span></div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-13455970682000770412011-06-28T06:55:00.000-07:002011-06-28T06:55:28.224-07:00“the things they carried”<!--[if !mso]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This may sound crazy…but it was easier doing time when I had hundreds of days to go – with so many to do, you just do the days without paying them much mind and magically they dwindle away.<span> </span>Now that I have well below 30 days, unconsciously I awake each morning automatically knowing exactly how many I have left to pull.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Today I have 14 to go.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Yesterday was 15.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Sunday was 16…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">and tomorrow will be 13.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">However hard I try to just “do the days,” I cannot.<span> </span>Like a soldier at war on foreign soil waiting to return home, leaving this place is foremost on my mind.<span> </span>I am neither overly anxious or scared, merely conscious.<span> </span>A glimpse of freedom and taste of hope tend to awaken a man.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My current insight and attention of this fact was recently augmented by a book about war I read titled <i>The Things They Carried </i>by Tim O’Brien. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9gxgKAauHLMOwqOL0_CqtEdbyWbSOCwBpr5PaYQyUZAXWdmpnOXfqzpXK0crZ7P5_eoVOzZBSAypcyph8nUv7HAKAN8DgKdEHY0p51_Y97gG9GaOwaIDF6lIINiFN0xEPLE-5We15B8V/s1600/the+things+they+carried.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9gxgKAauHLMOwqOL0_CqtEdbyWbSOCwBpr5PaYQyUZAXWdmpnOXfqzpXK0crZ7P5_eoVOzZBSAypcyph8nUv7HAKAN8DgKdEHY0p51_Y97gG9GaOwaIDF6lIINiFN0xEPLE-5We15B8V/s1600/the+things+they+carried.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.borders.com/ProductImages/products/00/60/07/b/60076312_b.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.borders.com/online/store/TitleDetail%3Fsku%3D0618706410&usg=__K-3_yYeIR-KnPGilUahDr0swXs8=&h=257&w=170&sz=12&hl=en&start=142&zoom=1&tbnid=vRBS5qrYLBtoNM:&tbnh=148&tbnw=98&ei=_9oJTvq8BIbh0QHJn9R7&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dthe%2Bthings%2Bthey%2Bcarried%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DwsE%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1255%26bih%3D827%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=360&page=6&ndsp=31&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:142&tx=59&ty=74&biw=1255&bih=827">image via</a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">(A small disclaimer: if your eyes/ears are easily offended by the profane language that war tends to produce – a lot like prison – then I suggest you not pick up this read.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">O’Brien served in the US Army during one of our nation’s most confusing wars – Vietnam.<span> </span><i>The Things They Carried</i> is a clever piece of work; although O’Brien claims that it is fiction, he writes from a personal point of view about himself and the cast of soldiers he served with in such a way that it keeps you pinging back and forth in your mind trying to determine where the fiction ends and the real begins.<span> </span>He purposely intended it to be this way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">O’Brien starts his work by describing what the typical ground-pounding grunt soldier during the Vietnam War would carry on his person.<span> </span>He carefully details the basic government issued (GI) tools of war and then fashions each uniquely individual character by describing the personal items that the soldier carried amongst his belongings and how they were significant to him.<span> </span>All of this is a simple setup.<span> </span>The heart of the book revolves around war and how, if never experienced, one can never fully grasp the intricate details of the total experience.<span> </span>Sure, you can hear and understand to a certain extent about war, but the bond that is forged from war comes only to those who lived within the belly of the beast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My greatest take away from the book was how the emotional experience of war has a tendency to make a man more conscious of life, himself and what is really of value to him.<span> </span>O’Brien does a fascinating job describing the emotions that are attached to battle, while at the same time he makes you astutely aware that in reality unless you’ve been there, you’re really just a bystander formulating meager emotions from someone elses experience.<span> </span>There is a bond, an emotional bond, that comes from battle - an unspoken understanding amongst survivors that weaves a common thread through their lives, forever meshing them together.<span> </span>I now understand better why there are organizations like the Veterans of Foreign War (VFW).<span> </span>They need each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So what’s my point?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe you’ve noticed, maybe not, I haven’t blogged much lately.<span> </span>Take note:<span> </span>I didn’t say “written much lately.”<span> </span>I’ve written plenty, just not posted.<span> </span>I can’t count the times that I’ve picked up the pen to chronicle some event that has happened in here, trying my best to cleverly expound on what goes on behind these bars and fences.<span> </span>I laid the pen down.<span> </span>Unlike O’Brien, I’m not that good of a writer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Many things happen in here that should not.<span> </span>There is also a great deal of interaction that is petty but made a big deal.<span> </span>This world is a world within itself – a subculture – a world stripped of outside stimuli, which on the outside shoulders a lot of the blame for our self-centered induced strife.<span> </span>The fact is the lack of stimuli has nothing to do with the chaotic unrest.<span> </span>We, the people, the person, are the problem!<span> </span>Just because this place is stripped of outside stimuli doesn’t immunize it from “self.”<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>Therein lies the conflict – the battle – people and their innate lust to serve self first.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">For the lot, doing time is merely paying one’s debt to society.<span> </span>But my mind and my faith will not allow me to make it that simple – I must take something positive away from this battle.<span> </span>That’s why I’ve wrestled so much with what to write, and why I haven’t written as of late.<span> </span>I want to write – I’ve tried to – but for some reason I cannot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A friend of mine, Dave, who has visited me from time to time since I’ve been on the inside, recently helped me process my dilemma.<span> </span>Dave helped me to realize that perhaps all that has gone down in here is not to write about now.<span> </span>Perhaps it’s to be stored away as experience to extract for some other point and time.<span> </span>That clicked with me – it made sense and took away the undue pressure I’d mounted on myself to write now.<span> </span>Besides, O’Brien didn’t write about what went on in the jungles of Vietnam in real time; it was years until he set meaning to a lot of the senseless acts of war that he witnessed.<span> </span>So with that, I’ll leave you with this – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I am fine.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">God is good!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">See you on the other side.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big love –</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Long time no hear from…huh?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I have nothing really pressing to write about.<span> </span>I sit and stare – and think – but it’s like my brain is in idle mode.<span> </span>Which is fine today.<span> </span>I feel no dominant emotions – other than an inner peace that it’s okay feeling the way I feel today.<span> </span>Perhaps it is due to the fact that over the past two weeks I’ve been in hyper-study mode.<span> </span>I’ve devoured books – or maybe better said, they’ve devoured me – being taken to school by God – learning more and more of who I am in Christ.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus – it’s not just a forgiveness thing.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh how limited my thinking has been.<span> </span>Like a sponge absorbing water, I think this lull is meant to let things sink in.<span> </span>Believe you me, it’s not that I don’t have anything to say – it’s more like there’s so much bouncing around my dome that I don’t know where to start, nor stop for that matter.<span> </span>So, in order to avoid always being the “teacher in the room” I’ll just shush on this subject for now.<span> </span>It’s probably more suited for a cup of coffee and a sit down anyhow.<span> </span>Join me?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikZbp9smYfiy2de2xL4XwNd7WWHhGXeLhMMzxfkHpAmqG9ccLCSYj1TkKgV1xClDvErwj-QH4HedgGeRgA9g8JeZVLjgYrNti0vSWl4a4reArqlb0jXq6AAiy5TVFj5a1DLsnjaYr4pqpD/s1600/Starbucks-mug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikZbp9smYfiy2de2xL4XwNd7WWHhGXeLhMMzxfkHpAmqG9ccLCSYj1TkKgV1xClDvErwj-QH4HedgGeRgA9g8JeZVLjgYrNti0vSWl4a4reArqlb0jXq6AAiy5TVFj5a1DLsnjaYr4pqpD/s320/Starbucks-mug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> <a href="http://www.cplamann.com/wordpress/2009/10/starbucks-via-launch-%E2%80%93-donating-for-a-product-launch/">image via</a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…time is winding down here at Club Moneta.<span> </span>In less than eight weeks, I’ll walk out of here – never to wear orange or Riddell tennis shoes again (smile).<span> </span>I have no clue what I’m (we’re) going to do.<span> </span>Today I am not nervous nor anxious – just curious what God has for Lump and me next.<span> </span>We are open.<span> </span>Maybe it’ll be in Lynch-Vegas, maybe not.<span> </span>We’ll see.<span> </span>Here is my point and request </span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">– </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">please pray for us.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0j7hD9mBwt_4Zp0QKntaYmhVAEHy-GN1GaZeBcnOUxRXXcrPm3nBTE2TS7Y-5o3Uk5x9WUorgYGvExbdydBnOF9ukSwIzJEEAynWo5GKMIhbW-RN9DVGfSlGdupD6YS9qpS-kV4Us2Y3/s1600/Sitting+In+grass+Graham+on+Londongs+lap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0j7hD9mBwt_4Zp0QKntaYmhVAEHy-GN1GaZeBcnOUxRXXcrPm3nBTE2TS7Y-5o3Uk5x9WUorgYGvExbdydBnOF9ukSwIzJEEAynWo5GKMIhbW-RN9DVGfSlGdupD6YS9qpS-kV4Us2Y3/s320/Sitting+In+grass+Graham+on+Londongs+lap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big Love</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">It’s been long but short; trying though still rewarding; boring yet productive; sin-saturated albeit insightful. There have been days filled with great encouragement, and days that I just wanted to stay in the bed and cover my head. I’ve met some unusually interesting people, as well as others that I don’t care to ever cross paths with again – especially in a dark alley. It’s been very educational at times and then grossly dumbing and void of any substance at others. As of today I’ve been in jail one year – it’s been the “poster child” as far as “roller coaster” experiences are concerned, I must say.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">BUT… </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">It’s been GOOD!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">What? (you may be saying to yourself)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">How?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Why?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">…because of the Truths that the Holy Spirit revealed to us through the Apostle Paul in Romans 8:28. Yes, in ALL things God “works for the GOOD of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Do not construe the meaning of this verse. It was not meant as a lemonade out of lemons, positive thinking, self-help proclamation of encouragement to be used by just anybody and everybody who happens to stumble across this promise. It is a fact that is pertinent only to those who truly love Him – those who have repented of their rebellious status and have laid down their self-seeking, self-reliant, sin filled lives to the love and Lordship of Jesus Christ.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">What then is the GOOD that is promised to those that love Him – to those that are His? What is the GOOD that could come from this seemingly bad situation? Is it that God is going to make it all okay? Or that consequences for past wrongs will disappear? That jail will be easy? That every day will be a bed of roses? Of course…you know this…the answer is NO! The ultimate goal and ultimate end of any and every situation and circumstance that God allows “those who love Him” to go through is for but one purpose…and that purpose is revealed in the very next verse, verse 29.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">“For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">What is the ultimate goal and ultimate end? To be conformed to the likeness of His Son – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">to make us like Christ. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Period!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span></span>God uses this jacked up, chronically and terminally ill, evil world we live in, as well as our self-centered and self-inflicted WRONG to make us RIGHT. These are merely instruments He uses to mold and shape us to be more like Jesus each and every day. That’s the GOOD. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">There’s no sugar coating it, these past 19 months (7 after I got caught before I was sentenced, and 12 in jail) have been challenging and trying – BUT – they have been GOOD. God has taken me to task, revealing hidden false beliefs about Him, myself, and the world. They had to be corrected – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">they were killing me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">On the opposite end of the spectrum, but in the same way, Lump has been molded and shaped through this situation as well. Individually, we have been experiencing different molding and shaping but with the same ultimate goal and same ultimate end. Not only has it drawn us closer to each other but much closer to Him.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">So, the question is not WHY am I experiencing this or that, but WHAT, God, are you trying to teach me through this experience that will make me more like Christ? Help me see the GOOD. </span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Big love…</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">He was 32 years old, a gang member, finishing out his second stint in “the joint” when I met him.<span> </span>The first stint was a five year stretch “down the road” (prison) for attempted murder.<span> </span>This one,<span> </span>a year for a far less offense.<span> </span>He was a product of the system – pre “no child left behind” – one missed, passed along in school, left behind…why?<span> </span>Good question.<span> </span>That’s the mystery.<span> </span>Everything changed his eleventh grade year when he got in trouble and was sent to a (last) alternative school and made to ride the short bus.<span> </span>Eventually he dropped out and hit the streets.<span> </span>The rest is obvious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d heard stories, even seen documentaries on ESPN about student athletes who were pushed through school with passing grades merely because they could throw a football with accuracy or nail a three point shot.<span> </span>But Alan (not his real name) didn’t fit this category.<span> </span>He wasn’t an athlete.<span> </span>Alan was just a kid from the inner city – as inner city as one can be from Lynch-vegas.<span> </span>There lies the mystery – the why?<span> </span>Why and how did he make it all the way to the eleventh grade without being able to read?<span> </span>Now when I say “without being able to read” I don’t mean he had trouble or that he read at a low primary school level.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Alan couldn’t read a lick – zip, nada…zero!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SB_KsGnHaZPgRgbwShFRkAlH4bYcEMt6UxWxnwmCIXO7Lh5R-syTnQzMFiT73jfP5T8st8Xkij17fTBLjVwdLrH7ENMGRuwkgmpjgiwzOR-MEnv1RmbD8pBqyk8qQqqzoGxeeneU9dvb/s1600/noread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SB_KsGnHaZPgRgbwShFRkAlH4bYcEMt6UxWxnwmCIXO7Lh5R-syTnQzMFiT73jfP5T8st8Xkij17fTBLjVwdLrH7ENMGRuwkgmpjgiwzOR-MEnv1RmbD8pBqyk8qQqqzoGxeeneU9dvb/s320/noread.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> <a href="http://edp.org/jokes.htm">image via</a></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I have to admit that fear rushed through my body when I was first approached – the kind of timidity that goes along with “what have I got myself into”!<span> </span>It was one of those scenarios when your mouth leads before your brain has the opportunity to think.<span> </span>Sort of like a knee jerk reaction.<span> </span>I hadn’t been at the correctional facility that I’m currently held very long when one of the guards approached me and asked if I’d ever taught.<span> </span>He knew that I’d worked at a university, and I guess from that he reasoned that I had been a professor of some sort - which actually couldn’t be further from reality.<span> </span>Sure, I’ve taught…leadership classes, addiction seminars as well as Christian growth and discipleship courses…but I’m neither a professor nor a teacher by formal training.<span> </span>Hence, how my mouth got ahead of my brain – in a knee jerk sort of way – and I quickly said yes to his question without listening to the entire proposal.<span> </span>The guard wanted to know if I’d be willing to teach Alan…how to read.<span> </span>Now, it took me about 30 seconds to realize what I’d just agreed to – then it hit me – READ!!!<span> </span>I didn’t have a clue how to teach someone to read!<span> </span>In fact, back in school, reading definitely wasn’t my strong suit – just ask my fourth grade special reading teacher (which would actually be impossible…she’s gone down the road too, but in a different sense of the word).<span> </span>But there I was – color me stupid – committed to teach Alan how to read.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">God help me.<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No, it was more like God help Alan!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The bottom line of it all was I didn’t even know where to start.<span> </span>However, it didn’t take me long to figure it out after our first session.<span> </span>The beginning, the very beginning was going to be our point of entry.<span> </span>So on our second meeting I wrote the 26 letters of the alphabet on a dry erase board and taught Alan the difference between consonants and vowels, along with their respective sounds.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRkINdOa0GVq4YoGo2zT3XDL4SVufrsm2lXB9RlwkEK2r0lLeGkR9gU32Eq1EPuadUSOMvRMWlOzGQH7Eo9aBJzPgYWFGrO9cvF193Mo_jG4ZYZqWbO4fCoRmZfi9Z8D1SseFDYHch9mF/s1600/alphabet+chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRkINdOa0GVq4YoGo2zT3XDL4SVufrsm2lXB9RlwkEK2r0lLeGkR9gU32Eq1EPuadUSOMvRMWlOzGQH7Eo9aBJzPgYWFGrO9cvF193Mo_jG4ZYZqWbO4fCoRmZfi9Z8D1SseFDYHch9mF/s320/alphabet+chart.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span><a href="http://www.westsideelementaryschool.com/kindergarten.htm"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">image via</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>Needless to say, it was a slow process.<span> </span>One filled with both frazzled frustration and extreme exhilaration at every turn.<span> </span>But as we ground it out, slowly but surely, session after session, twenty-four after twenty-four, Alan began to get it.<span> </span>The funny thing is…I’m not sure who was learning more – him or me?<span> </span>Alan, at age 32, building upon the basics was learning to read.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">On the other hand, I, “the teacher”, was relearning the importance of </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">relying and applying basic life principles in my own life.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In fact, if you read my previous post entitled “doing time – linking twenty-fours” then you’ve already had a taste of one of the basic principles that God reminded me of while teaching Alan.<span> </span>As I mentioned earlier, each day in the classroom presented different challenges.<span> </span>At times Alan would become frustrated because he didn’t feel he was progressing as fast as he thought he should.<span> </span>So in order to encourage him, I would go back to a lower level reading book and have him read.<span> </span>After he would breeze through the assignment, I’d point out to him how far he had come and then go on to coach him on the importance of doing the best he could in each twenty-four and how by linking them together he would – twenty-four by twenty-four – ultimately achieve his goal of learning how to read.<span> </span>It was from my own coaching that God began to remind me of the importance of living and linking twenty-fours in my own life.<span> </span>If you haven’t had a chance to read my post “doing time – linking twenty-fours”, give it a read.<span> </span>It goes into greater detail explaining more of what I’m talking about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Even if I were to try and explain what the environment and atmosphere of jail is like, it would fall ridiculously short of reality.<span> </span>It’s one of those location things – unless you’ve been there, it’s impossible to imagine.<span> </span>But in order to make my next point, let me take a stab (no pun intended) at describing it.<span> </span>It’s a stress-filled hyperbaric environment, doused with a Middle School mentality and behavior that is poisoned with applauded rebellion, inflamed worldliness and unadulterated evil, where the things of God are grossly misunderstood and/or flat out blasphemed.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">You must constantly stand guard against these things or risk being sucked in.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">On occasion there were times when, for various reasons, Alan and I were not allowed to go over to the classroom to study for several days in a row.<span> </span>When we were finally allowed to get back at it, I noticed that it would take Alan longer to get in the groove of things as opposed to when we were able to read and study day after day.<span> </span>I also noticed that these time lapses were a source, if not the main component of most of his learning frustrations!<span> </span>It was through Alan’s frustrations that I learned the importance of consistently keeping the reading lessons in front of him on a day-to-day basis.<span> </span>In turn this reminded me how very important it is to keep the things of God in front of me daily as well.<span> </span>I realized that most of my own frustration within this hyperbaric petri dish on steroids can be traced back to…a lapse in days - a lapse in days of keeping the things of God in front of me.<span> </span>In order to stand against the distractions and confusions of life, I must remind myself about the TRUTH of God daily.<span> </span>Why?<span> </span>Because the sum of the matter is, the world we live in is manufactured, manipulated and marketed based on a LIE – a lie shrouded with self-centered, self-conscious and self-seeking lures that deceive us into thinking the world revolves around us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span>-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Take what you want.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span>-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Do what you please.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span>-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Others don’t matter.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span>-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Promote yourself.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span>-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">You can be your own god (the ultimate of all lies).</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Left to our own thinking for very long, anyone of use can fall prey to the deterioration of the LIE.<span> </span>But know this –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the TRUTH trumps the lie every time!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And the TRUTH is God’s WORD!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnnX6oDsienuCLCU16FdV5nh6Fv14StlZoYs7Zchm2HDXOGeOhDJQKgsjhRhzoilClEjjfZ64HbODR3se30agMIYvj0X-crURjuLq48YKHE3Kpm6-xZCD3my12ctE3Xfb9tpAq13VTGjK/s1600/open-bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnnX6oDsienuCLCU16FdV5nh6Fv14StlZoYs7Zchm2HDXOGeOhDJQKgsjhRhzoilClEjjfZ64HbODR3se30agMIYvj0X-crURjuLq48YKHE3Kpm6-xZCD3my12ctE3Xfb9tpAq13VTGjK/s320/open-bible.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://mollypiper.com/2011/02/how-we-doin-on-bible-reading/">image via</a> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When I remind myself daily of who God is – who I’m not – but most importantly who I am in Christ, by His grace, I am able to endure and persevere through the craziness of the lies this world can dish out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">These two lessons that I learned while teaching Alan how to read are merely examples of the plethora of things Alan taught me.<span> </span>It’s experiences like this that make me smile, shake my head and appreciate the Creator of all creation in a fresh new way.<span> </span>God is never short on tools that He uses to shape, mold and teach His children.<span> </span>Role reversal was His tool selection this time – I only thought I was the teacher.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big love…</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-76577040263315267102011-03-08T11:06:00.000-08:002011-03-08T12:44:25.699-08:00Randoms…<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;">Mail Call</span></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Mail time in jail is similar to the old mail call scenes from the infamous war movies of the 1940’s and 50’s – it’s a time of great hope and anticipation – the inmates call it “getting love.” So to all of you that have showed the love by writing and sending cards and/or letters…THANK YOU!! Your words of encouragement and promises of prayer mean a lot! You have no idea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And to those of you who have commented on the blogs and/or sent emails or Facebook messages to Lump – thanks and appreciation to you as well. It’s encouraging to know that our mess has blessed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;">TV</span></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Ever wonder what inmates watch on TV? Probably not, but I’ve come to find it quite interesting as well as amusing. You’d be surprised to know that their choice of programming does not match the rough and ready to throw fists portrait depicted so often on the prison shows. So to defuse the hardness of the hardened criminal bit, I thought I’d shed a little light on their “must see TV” choices.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Day time</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">: Yes, you guessed it…you bet…Soap operas. Like a housewife from the 1970’s, some of the guys never miss an episode of General Hospital or the likes thereof. Oh too, to hear them chat it up about who did what to whom as well as talk about the characters as though they know them personally always brings a sly little grin to my face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh__6T8NBzvaZGZjGQmvLFDTmEE5IJWX-3pKrU6aeqkV9LvYR0y5VAKj2DO-XJ3C1CtQDXXJSW894PXHi2jERkwyXOb3VTKQ5GKA_Hsi5jxrcS0a4sAbkxUcWKGHkv3G0YkjTxUltUq1DS/s1600/General+Hospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh__6T8NBzvaZGZjGQmvLFDTmEE5IJWX-3pKrU6aeqkV9LvYR0y5VAKj2DO-XJ3C1CtQDXXJSW894PXHi2jERkwyXOb3VTKQ5GKA_Hsi5jxrcS0a4sAbkxUcWKGHkv3G0YkjTxUltUq1DS/s320/General+Hospital.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.tvsquad.com/photos/general-hospital-45th-anniversary/714010/">image via</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Additionally, a day wouldn’t be complete without them catching the latest skank and skanket on Tyra, Jerry or Maury. Want to draw a crowd in jail? Put on an episode of midget strippers or “who’s the daddy” and watch them flock to the tube. It’s simply amazing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Here’s one that will probably sock you – believe it or not, but Rachel Ray (no kin) is a favorite too. Not that any of them do a lot of cooking. Hmmm….let’s see…maybe it has something to do with the “special guests” Rachel has on there from time to time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">News time</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">: The news also draws quite a congregation – but the local and national happenings aren’t the draw. Neither is it the weather or sports – and it’s certainly not the local commercials or more that pull them in. So what’s the draw to the six o’clock news? … the local crime report of course! But they don’t watch it so much to see what crimes have been committed – they watch it to see who they know. The funny thing is 9 out of 10 times somebody in the group knows the accused culprit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wzC4h0B-4lq2RdHR3GIWwYvchBuaHacW6WBOk7ij6eMI7aknPcmx97OuaSpo5lY2qc3pWGef5UZCD_XQ19GeM9WRm1QCTiovpsIyyPOuLTbMQ8lvHvY3Wi-8IrcOgg3KxWolW1s5ExH7/s1600/crime+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wzC4h0B-4lq2RdHR3GIWwYvchBuaHacW6WBOk7ij6eMI7aknPcmx97OuaSpo5lY2qc3pWGef5UZCD_XQ19GeM9WRm1QCTiovpsIyyPOuLTbMQ8lvHvY3Wi-8IrcOgg3KxWolW1s5ExH7/s1600/crime+scene.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.wset.com/Global/story.asp?S=14205854">image via</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Night time and/ or weekends</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">: These are guys, right? So you’d think that there’d be a lot of sports watched. NOT!! Shocked? … me too. Oh don’t get me wrong; when the cars that continuously turn to the left come on the tube, they’re there in droves rooting for their favorite NASCAR driver. But other than NFL football and the occasional Friday night “smack down”, sports are pretty much amiss. That leaves a lot of air time to be filled during the evening and weekend hours. So what do these hardened criminals watch to fill all those vacant hours….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">CHICK FLICKS!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Can you believe this? I mean, not that I’m above sitting and watching a chick movie with the Lump and all that, but to sit with “Bubba” and the boys and watch <i>Beaches</i>…? There’s just something with this reoccurring scenario that screams “this is totally wrong!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And who’d have ever <i>thunk</i> that while a countless conglomeration of females across the nation gather in front of their tubes on Monday nights to watch <i>The Bachelor</i> or <i>The Bachelorette</i>, that the boys behind bars would be sitting shoulder to shoulder discussing amongst themselves who they think might get a rose this week? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTBYMxiZJ3WjFzSXc0hBzzr7Pyp62BAbxtCftDgWV7reSxOO3zExkT7EEhDu9MQMDFIqLdNGsAWlRUhDmKbhPT5tAYAsqV0JpnfAyI7AjI58JDVtSac-JaikcIinNsjtfBnxDMbWWYtFc/s1600/the-bachelor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTBYMxiZJ3WjFzSXc0hBzzr7Pyp62BAbxtCftDgWV7reSxOO3zExkT7EEhDu9MQMDFIqLdNGsAWlRUhDmKbhPT5tAYAsqV0JpnfAyI7AjI58JDVtSac-JaikcIinNsjtfBnxDMbWWYtFc/s320/the-bachelor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://topreasonstolovethebachelor.blogspot.com/">image via</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Are you kidding me?!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It doesn’t stop there. I was shocked to walk into the “day area” one night and find them all nestled together watching…<i>Dancing with the Stars</i> – but I was absolutely floored when I realized…THEY WATCH IT EVERY WEEK! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">How these choices must befuddle the Nelson Ratings folk.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So there you have it, instead of the People’s Choice Awards, The Criminal Choice Awards. Slightly different than you suspected, huh? SO the next time you see the portrayal of inmates as hardcore unreachable, unrehabilitatable citizens, just remember…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">there’s a softer side to the sentenced.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-39716582184421447702011-03-01T07:25:00.000-08:002011-03-01T09:18:31.371-08:00Doing time – linking twenty-fours<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">They call it “doing time” – being in jail that is. I’ve heard many of the inmates dish out advice, “let the time serve you instead of your serving the time.” There’s a lot of truth and wisdom in that statement. Simply explained, it means using the place you are at and the time you’ve been given to the fullest and best of your ability. The truth of the matter is whether you are confined behind the walls of a prison or free in society, we are all some place “doing time.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Twenty-four hours is twenty-four hours – in or out. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No one receives extra. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No one receives less.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Freedom and responsibility are twin sisters – they go hand in hand. When a man is stripped of his freedom, the level of his responsibilities diminishes accordingly. Contrariwise, where there is freedom, there is a greater level of responsibility and many more things to manage. But still yet, time does not change – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">twenty-four hours is twenty-four hours – in or out.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In this place called jail, my responsibilities and what I have to manage are not much. All that I possess in here is contained within a two-by-two metal lockbox underneath a military style bunk that is meagerly adorned with a green mattress (which is actually a stretch of a description – it’s more like a mat that one would use in Pilates).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFTGQUimC6MyzuX5E2MBd94DqgmeoYy1-pEvX4hK4RR48iXqQXkQa2pmmZKZJO2cDc2aax0SoS-0F5VfwroJjpztFzhNMMfYwv0_XB3VJznIdzPb2QrjD57byw84dmDCfmIyNLeAWbRAU/s1600/bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFTGQUimC6MyzuX5E2MBd94DqgmeoYy1-pEvX4hK4RR48iXqQXkQa2pmmZKZJO2cDc2aax0SoS-0F5VfwroJjpztFzhNMMfYwv0_XB3VJznIdzPb2QrjD57byw84dmDCfmIyNLeAWbRAU/s1600/bed.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.colemans.com/bedding.htm">image via</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My wardrobe management has minimized as well – jail is not the place for a fashion show. There’s the standard orange jumper (pronounced “jumpa” with the emphasis on the A) that you’ve seen so often on many of the court and cop TV shows. Concealed beneath the jumper and usually never seen by the general public, but now exposed exclusively to the reads of “from the inside,” are the simple blue gym shorts with white trim that scream 1980’s P.E. class. And then, of course, the essentials: white undershirts, white boxers and white socks – standard apparel items that can be purchased at any department store for a quarter of the price that they cost in jail. Yes, you are correct; they do not furnish these items. You must purchase them from the jail – and the smiley happy face of savings at your local Wal-mart does not reside within the walls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Last, but certainly not least, footwear – one vintage pair of white Riddle tennis shoes that I wouldn’t be caught dead in outside of these walls, but at the present, I’m very pleased to have. The alternative is a pair of black Velcro clasp “prison shoes” called, no lie, “Cruizers.” Imagine completely blacked out Converse Chuck Taylors, with Velcro instead of shoe laces only 100 times nerdier and you’re pretty close to Cruizers. Oh how they scream ugly…and cheap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">By the way, most of this prison garb is made by the Bob Barker Company. Rumor has it that this is the same Bob Barker that is famous for telling us to “come on down!” as well as asking us to have our pets spayed and neutered. Or it could just be one of those infamous jailhouse tails. Although it’s a lot more fun to believe the rumor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByjjvD6_LVBy8zGZ-6kiY6dShW2Y6bCG7UphZ9X4wUGEq7xzULESUVGQt8u5DQ4R7TZcsME3-lUrn_7NpsDksypJseGzr88mKVhzF1z4NL13muTVcwQeoVtNCKbgzi50rLx1QJDqQJEiV/s1600/Bob+Barker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByjjvD6_LVBy8zGZ-6kiY6dShW2Y6bCG7UphZ9X4wUGEq7xzULESUVGQt8u5DQ4R7TZcsME3-lUrn_7NpsDksypJseGzr88mKVhzF1z4NL13muTVcwQeoVtNCKbgzi50rLx1QJDqQJEiV/s320/Bob+Barker.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://42daiye.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html">image via</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As for the responsibility and management of the daily grind – meals are served at the same time everyday – 6:30am, 12 noon, and 4:30pm. At times, on the outside, I’ve tried unsuccessfully to not eat after 8:00pm in order to shed a few unwanted pounds. Now I have the help I needed! (Smile)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The lights come on at the same time every morning – 6am, and go off at the same time every night – 12 midnight. Holidays and weekends are barely distinguishable from any other day. After a while you begin to mark time by what shift of guards are working. Day by day, days link together and time passes, but…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">twenty-four is twenty-four – in or out!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Though in the physical realm we are held by time and space, in our minds, at any given time we are capable of living in three different places – the past, the present and the future. Deep within the recesses of the memory bank of our minds are innumerable memories of experiences we have lived. Each of these memories has a residual emotion attached to them that are a remnant of the feeling we experienced at the time of the actual event. What’s amazing is that at any given time and sometimes out of nowhere, we are able to recall these experiences, play them over again in our minds, and actually feel the emotions that are attached to them. It’s a glorious give and take phenomenon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">We feel proud when we recall a graduation, promotion, accomplishment or award we received years before; happiness and joy when we replay the birth of a child, that first kiss or a special vacation across the screen of our mind. We can even feel a rush of calm wash over us when we recall a majestic sunset from a special time of our life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">However, we must take the bad with the good.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Mingled within those favorable memories are the not so pleasant ones of past failures, regrets, poor choices, being wronged and doing wrong – we all have them. They haunt us with feelings of guilt, sadness, anger, shame, remorse, and despair. Unfortunately, all too often these are the memories and emotions that we tend to dwell on and allow to slowly whittle away our strength and self-worth. If we’re fortunate, with time and/or help, we can come to understand that the past is the past - there is nothing to be gained by dwelling on it, nor anything we can do to change it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Projecting our minds to ponder on the future has a similar but different spin. Unlike the past, where the outcome has already been revealed, the future and its possibilities are a wide open undetermined mystery. Therein lays the trap. If we allow ourselves, we can expand an abundant amount of mental power, playing the “what if” game – what if this happens? what if that happens? – and completely gloss over and miss the very twenty-four we are in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The astonishing thing is our emotions are not immune from this forward thinking either. Thoughts of future events can inflame unrealistic hope and extreme anxieties. It’s amazing how we can work ourselves up over something that hasn’t even happened – with huge odds against them playing out the way we project them to in the first place. Although we still do it. We still allow ourselves to wrestle with future happenings over and over and over in our minds, wasting countless time and energy that could have been utilized in the NOW – the present – the twenty-four we’ve been given – the twenty-four we’re in – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the only place we can truly live and do something about.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Regardless of the situation or circumstance we may find ourselves, who we are does not change. We are a unique creation of the Most High with a set of unique skills, abilities, talents, gifts and personality that He has assembled in a unique way to create the only YOU there is. There is no other YOU – never has been another YOU – nor will there ever be another YOU. DNA proves what God has always known (it takes Science a little time to catch up with God). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Therefore, BE and USE what God has given you</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">in the twenty-four you’ve been given.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6Me7QI_mFBsQ_QALkaPZdv2Bmr7yOrV2foKesQO5CII5cbMrQUKrZ6sOrvpEKDRoB_W9wG3GV3dZD4nL53YtADAJSboUD8Ixef4WawnXRkCkUw7lEjDARYK3icOHp3m_L-kDzmu5oQFH/s1600/clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX6Me7QI_mFBsQ_QALkaPZdv2Bmr7yOrV2foKesQO5CII5cbMrQUKrZ6sOrvpEKDRoB_W9wG3GV3dZD4nL53YtADAJSboUD8Ixef4WawnXRkCkUw7lEjDARYK3icOHp3m_L-kDzmu5oQFH/s1600/clock.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://writersgateway.wordpress.com/2007/05/02/elearning-design-challenge-series-designing-a-game-based-course/">image via</a> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">We weren’t uniquely created for just kicks and giggles. We were given life and expected to live out our uniquely created lives wherever we may be. Know this, where you are today is not a surprise to God – He knows exactly where you are. In fact, He allowed you to be where you are. Yes…He’s got it like that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Therefore, BE and USE what God has given you</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">wherever you may find yourself</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">in the twenty-four you’ve been given.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Throughout the course of any given twenty-four, most generally, we will encounter “others” as we go to and from the places God allows us to be. There is no such thing as chance meetings – God orchestrates and ordains all. These “others” that we encounter are placed in our path for a reason – sometimes us for them, and other times, them for us. Additionally, the purpose of some encounters will be obvious, while others not so much. Just remember, the greatest act of LOVE is to humble ourselves, give of ourselves and serve “others” – where they are (not location but situation and circumstance of life).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Therefore, BE and USE what God has given you</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">wherever you may find yourself</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">to love and serve “others” you encounter</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">in the twenty-four you’ve been given.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Lastly, we all have purpose. The problem is a lot of the time we focus too much on the quest of discovering our purpose. Or even worse, we stay trapped and paralyzed by our past instead of merely living our purpose in the twenty-four we’ve been given. So what is our purpose for the twenty-four? Simply put – SHINE – be a light – and bring glory to the One who created all. The great surprise is as we link twenty-fours together, ultimately we live out our purpose. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Therefore, BE and USE what God has given you</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">wherever you may find yourself</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">to love and serve “others” you encounter</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">in order to SHINE to bring glory to God</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">in the twenty-four you’ve been given.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Remember: We are all some place “doing time.” Twenty-four is twenty-four – in or out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big Love… </span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-4909800196860287922011-02-09T07:27:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:27:18.252-08:00A glimpse from the outside…<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, I’m not quite sure where to begin.<span> </span>I don’t really know what to write about – ray-ray has the teaching and writing talents.<span> (</span>Oh, and by the way, I don’t have a cutesy little nickname for him, so he’s ray-ray – a name given him by old friends.<span>) </span>I guess I will just try to share a little about where I’ve been and hopefully where I’m going.<span> </span>God’s been teaching me A LOT – I’ll just share my heart, and leave the rest up to Him.<span> </span>If nothing else, it’s good for me to put into words on paper all the good things He’s done for me.<span> </span>So here goes…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As ray-ray mentioned in his last post, my life’s journey has been much different than his.<span> </span>No one will be beating my door down asking for a book deal because of my outrageous transformation.<span> </span>I was born into a Christian home, accepted Christ at a young age, was taught the right way to live, and I did my best not to deviate from that.<span> </span>Of course there were challenges from time to time, but my testimony is one more of God’s protective grace in my life – shielding me from poor influences and bad decisions.<span> </span>I attribute all of this to a great relationship with my parents and their loving and godly instruction in my life.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijXDbIIDKGChEUBZE7ezdxsQ5yLLAxElS2WSzou7vMBPUHN2RutDRBS4jvNI7OoCZuCwiggplyrN0qTe_E7EzKeLkVz0byGPEQfbjepQCnQv4-DbdtZgGA3iohXtQnyaoPpRjUfOOi-41_/s1600/fam+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijXDbIIDKGChEUBZE7ezdxsQ5yLLAxElS2WSzou7vMBPUHN2RutDRBS4jvNI7OoCZuCwiggplyrN0qTe_E7EzKeLkVz0byGPEQfbjepQCnQv4-DbdtZgGA3iohXtQnyaoPpRjUfOOi-41_/s320/fam+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet with this upbringing there were still some major heart issues and missed truths that needed to be addressed in my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Enter ray-ray.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6MOl2SKwgLqAuGLMmvKfROwKcwq3nlylRvSZRGqXus2nI6XTcC6BR36Ar4l5ebVHACmBTQ_OAHKB7tkRnLyR-Lfztlh4dDx-rw1UBQirKH_KM7OAZIopQBcORZVtxgGgwdsL9eIVxQiF/s1600/Batman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6MOl2SKwgLqAuGLMmvKfROwKcwq3nlylRvSZRGqXus2nI6XTcC6BR36Ar4l5ebVHACmBTQ_OAHKB7tkRnLyR-Lfztlh4dDx-rw1UBQirKH_KM7OAZIopQBcORZVtxgGgwdsL9eIVxQiF/s320/Batman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When I met ray-ray, little did I know how much he would teach me and what a journey we would have.<span> </span>As he said, it truly is a miracle of God that brought us together.<span> </span>When I sit and think about the many different circumstances that placed us at the same university in the same office at the same time, I’m amazed.<span> </span>The longer we go at this together, the more and more I know that it was God’s Divine appointment that brought us together.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I needed him.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I had a concept of people, life, and God that needed some major adjusting.<span> </span>I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for people to just live right.<span> </span>I thought that God was happy with me when I was doing things to please Him and upset with me when I wasn’t.<span> </span>I thought everything was black and white, cut and dry, no excuses and no exceptions.<span> </span>Boy was I wrong.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the things that I initially admired about ray-ray was his knowledge of the Bible – for someone growing up attending church every time the door was open and then some, this was what I wanted in a life partner – someone who knew more about the Bible than me.<span> </span>But with him, it was more than just knowledge.<span> </span>He had experienced people, life, and God in a way that I never had – in a way that majorly challenged some of my views.<span> </span><span> </span>As our relationship grew, the Lord began to teach me more and more about Himself through my relationship with ray-ray – showing me His amazing redemptive grace, His ability to turn tragedy and failure into triumphs, and His unfailing love for us.<span> </span>All of this in preparation for September 4, 2009.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s when our little storm began.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">If you would have told me before all of this happened that I would go through something like this, I would have told you NO WAY, I’ll fall apart – I can’t handle it.<span> </span>This is not the way my life played out in my childhood dreams.<span> </span>But praise the Lord His plans are not our plans.<span> </span>He has such a patient way of molding and shaping us into who He wants us to become, not who we think we should be.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">During September of 2009 as our world was spiraling out of control – one thing after another being brought to light and not knowing what the next day would hold – one word kept coming to my mind... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">HOPE.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, don’t get me wrong, many days were just plain awful.<span> </span>I cried so much, I wore waterproof mascara for a month straight…haha!<span> </span>But I kept believing there was hope, and I kept telling myself that the Lord would provide for us and the Lord would work this out for good.<span> </span>I didn’t know how, but I just kept telling myself and others that He would.<span> </span>I didn’t take the time to think it out or worry about it, because I might have doubted it under the weight of it all.<span> </span>So I just kept saying it.<span> </span>I needed to say it.<span> </span>I needed to hear it.<span> </span>I needed to believe it.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">He was the only One that could make </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> sense of this mess that we were in.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And boy has He done that.<span> </span>What a journey it’s been.<span> </span>Even with my husband temporarily separated from me, and the task of running a household, managing our finances, working full-time and parenting a two-year old on my own, I can truly say I am so very grateful to be right where I’m at.<span> </span>The Lord has continued to change my view of Him, people, and life.<span> </span>I could go on and on about all of the things He has taught me and is still teaching me, although sometimes it’s hard to put it in the right words.<span> </span>Maybe someday I’ll share more, but for now let me try to sum it up for you with what He’s taught me in these three areas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Himself – He is so loving, gracious and good - ALWAYS.<span> </span>I’ve known these things,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>but have truly experienced them in deeper ways these past 17 months. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And if it ever seems He’s not any of these things – </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve become cross-eyed (see part 11).<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">People – no matter our position in life or our social status, </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">everyone has something they are struggling with or have struggled with. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">By being open and honest about it, we find comfort, support, healing and hope.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Life – I don’t want it to be about me anymore.<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I want the Lord to use me to make a difference in the lives of others –</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">for His glory and His Kingdom.<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And if it means a little discomfort in this life,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Bring it on!<span> </span>Because He is always loving, gracious, and good.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the outside…Lump</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I can’t remember if it was a rabbit, a bear or some other animal species that the toy industry used as replicas to make these specific children’s cuddly stuffed animals.<span> </span>But to this day I can still see the pink and white silky parachute material creature looming fuzzily in the back of my mind – I just can’t make out the details of its face.<span> </span>The one feature of this popular late 80’s children’s toy that made it stand out from all the other stuffed animals of its time was how unusually light and fluffy it was.<span> </span>I mean this thing was like squeezing air – it had to weigh near to nothing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">What is it you ask?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A Puff-A-Lump.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo46DUuAOKBsHXsdumOVwTqJIy7d-Jw54E6lVPSRIWdUiVjrYRkGfai11g1zur5h4P7ryRf0jm3_utpQgvJGkwNKna-secobj4te9fKIbqRKY1dYPDHXGX5xZ4Yu8rAJbiWeH8hBHRHwL_/s1600/puffalump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo46DUuAOKBsHXsdumOVwTqJIy7d-Jw54E6lVPSRIWdUiVjrYRkGfai11g1zur5h4P7ryRf0jm3_utpQgvJGkwNKna-secobj4te9fKIbqRKY1dYPDHXGX5xZ4Yu8rAJbiWeH8hBHRHwL_/s320/puffalump.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.thestrong.org/online-collections/nthof/alpha/teddy-bear/104.796">image via</a></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The source of my wife’s nickname. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">(Read my first post if you’re confused.)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">One day, several years back, when Lump and I first started talking, for some reason I grabbed and squeezed the bicep area of her arm.<span> </span>To my surprise it was the softest bicep I’d ever squeezed before – next to a newborn baby that is.<span> </span>Just like a Puff-A-Lump, it was as if I was squeezing<span> </span>air.<span> </span>I mean she had no muscle mass whatsoever.<span> </span>Jokingly, I said, “my gosh, you’re as soft as a Puff-A-Lump”…and so the nickname was birthed.<span> </span>At first I called her Puff-A – until, I don’t know why, I just shortened it to Lump.<span> </span>And so it is – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Lump – my Lump<span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the one I almost missed.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhnchXTlK0Uw5YknaPwnDnphYABf61mpmW4qJ_K-ZK5DWVmjDcRx_DqfKK75b_EVKbGM9u9uN2QyKVic_dFoXiN11CNhCtkoQ7ZMzj3SJFGzHJjPNhNWmbvvyFAiwli9M0qZo7GzmXzpf/s1600/Lump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhnchXTlK0Uw5YknaPwnDnphYABf61mpmW4qJ_K-ZK5DWVmjDcRx_DqfKK75b_EVKbGM9u9uN2QyKVic_dFoXiN11CNhCtkoQ7ZMzj3SJFGzHJjPNhNWmbvvyFAiwli9M0qZo7GzmXzpf/s320/Lump.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">To say that Lump and I have lived different lives would be a gross misstatement.<span> </span>We come from polar opposite spectrums of the carnal life.<span> </span>I mean you’ve read (or hopefully you’ve read) the account of my jacked up conglomeration of a life.<span> </span>Well for Lump’s imagine the complete opposite and you’ll get a pretty good idea of what I mean.<span> </span>Lump never drank, smoked or dipped – nor ran with those who did (joke).<span> </span>By the grace of God, she became a Christian at age four and never looked back.<span> </span>Though she doesn’t boast of herself this way, to me she is the epitome of a godly woman.<span> </span>Jokingly I tell people all the time that Lump is honest even when she is trying to be dishonest.<span> </span>To say that I married up is an understatement. (Ok, that’s enough “I know’s” and “Amen’s” out there.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Additionally, you may have noticed from her Facebook pictures that I’m slight (term used loosely) older than she is – so, therefore, us coming together is really nothing short of water being parted or bread falling from the sky.<span> </span>When I first met her, she was just another person of many that I worked with in the Campus Pastor’s office at the university – but as time clicked on and I got to know and understand who she is, it slowly became clear to me – what many of you have known – Lump is one interesting person (especially her sense of humor – which for some strange reason I understood).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3YAeQ3F5SIY77-r6mj0deYXae1oKleA5fQx1XLvDYa-mnfivBCz131X8nVrGJ7oiKefV5LIIu_Gq3naUVcTn2qvFlzhaqEHzZDTG3sF5k7FuVkVaQQCr0vA8jCamoxrbqor04zgyEX7S/s1600/Monogram+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3YAeQ3F5SIY77-r6mj0deYXae1oKleA5fQx1XLvDYa-mnfivBCz131X8nVrGJ7oiKefV5LIIu_Gq3naUVcTn2qvFlzhaqEHzZDTG3sF5k7FuVkVaQQCr0vA8jCamoxrbqor04zgyEX7S/s320/Monogram+%25288%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">One day, shortly after we met, a few of the people I worked with as well as a few students were sitting around my office talking about this and that, when the subject of “where you are from” came up.<span> </span>When it got to Lump, she explained that her parents were in ministry and they’d lived all over, but that she called North Carolina home.<span> </span>She then went on to name a few of the cities and towns of the Tar Heel state that she’d once lived in.<span> </span>One of those towns just so happened to be the quaint little southern town where I lived and recruited for the Air Force.<span> </span>The kicker being – she lived there the same time I did.<span> </span>And so, that small common denominator became the key that started our relationship.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The hidden treasure from my past had been revealed (see part 7).</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">To save you the boredom of a drawn out narrative concerning our dating experience, let me sum it up like this – we had more issues to work through than your average couple.<span> </span>But it was good – it forced us to confront them and work through them together.<span> </span>There were a few times we took a break to examine and pray about whether or not we should proceed.<span> </span>One of those times near the end of our dating, I remember very clearly a conversation I had with a good friend of mine who lives up in the northern panhandle of West Virginia.<span> </span>In the conversation, I was ranting and raving about not knowing what to do; I loved Lump and all, but I had also gotten to the point in my life that I was finally OK being by myself.<span> </span>I was traveling and speaking at different events almost every weekend – I came and went pretty much as I pleased – I liked my life – I wasn’t sure I wanted to get married.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It was my friend’s next comment that stopped me dead in my tracks and arrested my indecisiveness.<span> </span>In so many words he said, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s all well and good, but I sure hear a lot of </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">me’s and I’s in there.<span> </span>Have you asked God what He thinks? </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>Lump may very well be the one God has to come alongside </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">of you and walk out the purpose for your life.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was speechless – I knew I had not – at least in that way.<span> </span>And so it was, from that day on that I knew Lump was the one.<span> </span>Oh how true that has become.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">You can read every book at Barnes and Noble about forgiveness and commitment, obtain a head full of knowledge about them and still not truly grasp them until you’ve experienced them in your life.<span> </span>Lump did not deserve what I did to her.<span> </span>My self-centered and selfish behavior brought embarrassment and heartache to the very one that believed and trusted me to be the man of God she married.<span> </span>I failed her miserably. In the world’s opinion, if anyone ever had the right to be mad, hold a grudge, withhold their forgiveness and walk away from a commitment, she did.<span> </span>But that’s not my wife.<span> </span>Not for one moment, even from the beginning, did she ever use my wrong to her favor.<span> </span>No, she showed her love by forgiving me and sticking by me. By experiencing her human forgiveness and commitment, I began to understand in a great way what God’s forgiveness and commitment were actually like.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s amazing how He uses His children as instruments of His Big Love.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In a way – a big way – what Lump is enduring far outshines and outweighs what I’m experiencing.<span> </span>I sit in jail due to my rebellion and sin.<span> </span>I deserve to be here.<span> </span>Yes, I’m persevering and making the best of where God has placed me, but Lump’s actions far surpass my pushing through.<span> </span>Her attitude and actions model the life of a true Christian.<span> </span>Although I shouldn’t be surprised – all of this coming from the woman that once told me that Mercy Me’s song <i>Bring the Rain</i> best described how she felt about her relationship with Christ.<span> </span>At the time I’m sure she had no idea how heavy the downpour would be.<span> </span>But she has not faltered nor waivered – no, on the contrary, she has dug in, stood firm in her faith and has let her light shine.<span> </span>I tell her all the time that I think this mess is more about her testimony than mine – or perhaps it’s both – who knows – we’ll see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgnfATZJpzQiSRTDQ6WC1J9YFrAsLu3UzwR-4GqHqYcWyZZ4wXiHb6RY1qUemd6ZwVzAyQFkQ65kFhiO5ombyGoUUE920R2SOEO19riAMAuqIHUPKOfJa4s8nXVDH3pZj7tOdxmM2ZROS/s1600/The+new+couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgnfATZJpzQiSRTDQ6WC1J9YFrAsLu3UzwR-4GqHqYcWyZZ4wXiHb6RY1qUemd6ZwVzAyQFkQ65kFhiO5ombyGoUUE920R2SOEO19riAMAuqIHUPKOfJa4s8nXVDH3pZj7tOdxmM2ZROS/s320/The+new+couple.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I love you Lump! </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>You’re my most favorite person…and best friend.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Thanks for being you.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big love!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Bring the Rain</span></i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><i> </i><i>by Mercy Me</i></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I can count a million times<br />
People asking me how I<br />
Can praise You with all that I've gone through<br />
The question just amazes me<br />
Can circumstances possibly<br />
Change who I forever am in You<br />
Maybe since my life was changed<br />
Long before these rainy days<br />
It's never really ever crossed my mind<br />
To turn my back on you, oh Lord<br />
My only shelter from the storm<br />
But instead I draw closer through these times<br />
So I pray<br />
<br />
Bring me joy, bring me peace<br />
Bring the chance to be free<br />
Bring me anything that brings You glory<br />
And I know there'll be days<br />
When this life brings me pain<br />
But if that's what it takes to praise You<br />
Jesus, bring the rain<br />
<br />
I am Yours regardless of<br />
The dark clouds that may loom above<br />
Because You are much greater than my pain<br />
You who made a way for me<br />
By suffering Your destiny<br />
So tell me what's a little rain<br />
So I pray<br />
<br />
Bring me joy, bring me peace<br />
Bring the chance to be free<br />
Bring me anything that brings You glory<br />
And I know there'll be days<br />
When this life brings me pain<br />
But if that's what it takes to praise You<br />
Jesus, bring the rain<br />
<br />
Holy, holy, holy<br />
Is the Lord God Almighty</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-12555450196730065362011-01-19T08:08:00.000-08:002011-01-19T08:16:59.566-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here – Part 11<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Boiling frogs, cross-eyed = “the fall”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Not too long after I was arrested in September of 2009, for going into someone’s home and taking their prescription pain pills, a former student of mine from the Christian discipleship program I used to work for called to see how I was doing. The grapevine does move rather swiftly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In the early days after my “fall”, I didn’t take many phone calls nor did I return many messages – I was ashamed and embarrassed (if I didn’t call you back…please forgive me) – but, this guy was persistent. He left me several messages letting me know that he loved me, still respected me, didn’t care what I had done, and that he just wanted to talk about HOW this had happened, not the 4-1-1. He went on to say that my fall had got him thinking about his own life, specifically about his relationship with God. I appreciated the candidness and sincerity of his request. I called him back. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This would be the first of many times to come </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">that I would witness God use the mess I created for His good.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">True to his word, my friend didn’t probe me for details about my crimes. He just wanted to talk about how I got to such a point of desperation that would cause me to do what I had done. I explained to him, as I’ll now explain to you, that the onset of my fall started way before I committed my crimes, as well as how it was kindled by unresolved and covered up character issues.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know when or where I first heard it from, or from who I heard it from – or really, for that matter, why you’d want to do such a thing in the first place. Perhaps it has something to do with cooking….or….perhaps not. I may have heard it from one of my redneck buddies somewhere down the line (no slam intended – merely a term of endearment; I think Lump may have a little redneck in her…or secretly wishes she did). I don’t know. I can’t remember, nor do I think the when, where and who are that important. What is important is the process – the how. The process of how one goes about…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">boiling a live frog.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hmdh5ErW0sqt3l-j4pZ1SbrwzTtO2LA3Uv3RWCFU0ivBTI9QQxJcq2dVlu3MOqe6CBaveiww7HgoCj21bYct-B6yBkco8pkxg1Fs0RRQztPqkpYyyrb9rVC7y9_2dNV7ksakZhwRbnKE/s1600/frog_in_pot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hmdh5ErW0sqt3l-j4pZ1SbrwzTtO2LA3Uv3RWCFU0ivBTI9QQxJcq2dVlu3MOqe6CBaveiww7HgoCj21bYct-B6yBkco8pkxg1Fs0RRQztPqkpYyyrb9rVC7y9_2dNV7ksakZhwRbnKE/s1600/frog_in_pot.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.secureamericanliberty.com/progressiveism/"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> image via</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">First of all, you can’t just throw a live frog into a pot of boiling water and expect the little fellow to stay in there. Although frogs may not be considered to be the Einsteins of the animal world, they’re certainly not the bottom of the barrel when it comes to stupid. If you throw a live frog into a pot of boiling water, more likely than not, he’s going to jump out – it’s only natural. (Now, I know some of you observant brainiacs have already said to yourself, “put a lid on the pot”…but for playing along purposes, pretend there is no lid. Ok?...good.) On the other hand, if you first put the frog down into a pot of room temperature water the frog will swim around – or sit there as some stubborn frogs do – enjoying his fresh dip in the H<sub>2</sub>O that he is very much familiar with. Next, as he settles in and makes himself comfortable, slowly turn the heat up on the water until it finally comes to a boil. Completely unaware of the danger of the rising temperature, the soothing comfort of the familiar environment of the water will slowly lull the frog to the point of complacency. Degree by rising degree, bubble after bubble, the heat from the boiling water will slowly suck the energy and zap the life from the unsuspecting amphibian until finally, unable to battle the smothering heat, our little leaping friend will leap no more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A moral and spiritual fall are somewhat similar to boiling a frog.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to become addicted to pain pills again. Like the frog, I slowly boiled myself in a pot of self absorption until I became cross-eyed – my focus became ME instead of God and others.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It all started with getting comfortable where I was.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Qr9gutMkPMBrHdNESfAylodnQDWNT9pBMR0inUMSBauw8ySn0Nico4xXmsX2eZIrAwQXRwdT9YoIW4SCYmpI3tg4BEi560L-t9q0dsVtlPThGr-FDGtBrKGvq-bfDhTRboydQhZsLW-x/s1600/positioin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Qr9gutMkPMBrHdNESfAylodnQDWNT9pBMR0inUMSBauw8ySn0Nico4xXmsX2eZIrAwQXRwdT9YoIW4SCYmpI3tg4BEi560L-t9q0dsVtlPThGr-FDGtBrKGvq-bfDhTRboydQhZsLW-x/s320/positioin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, when I say comfortable where I was, I don’t so much mean location as much as I mean comfortable and complacent in regards to my spiritual life. Some of you may not understand or agree entirely with this next statement – a statement based solely on my observation of other people’s lives as well as experiencing it in my own – but working in ministry at a Christian university can be one of the easiest and hardest places to grow in your relationship with God. Bear with me and let me explain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It can be easy because you are constantly surrounded by incredible worship, dynamic teaching and powerful experiences. All of this taken in the correct context and applied with your own personal time of meditating and studying God’s word, growing in the wisdom and knowledge of Who HE is will lead to what He promises us – an abundant, free life. But when the incredible worship, dynamic teaching and powerful experiences become the substitute and only source for spiritual growth, comfort and complacency can find a place to root in rather quickly. This is exactly what happed to me – and with my past, this is not a healthy scenario. I became unfavorably comfortable and complacent concerning my relationship with God. It was like I flipped the auto-pilot switch on and allowed my ministry position and complete absorption in the activities of the university to become my sole source of material for personal spiritual growth. I began to completely ignore my own personal time with God and rely entirely on being at numerous weekly services and experiences (that my position required me to be at) in order to keep me spiritually afloat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My eyes slowly turned inward </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">– cross-eyed – </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the focus of my attention became ME.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Although those around me may not have initially picked up on it, I began to feel the change within myself. I developed a very negative attitude. The joy, peace and happiness I had experienced in my life began to be replaced with envy, jealousy and selfish desires. I became condescending and sarcastic in my mind, not only towards people but towards Christianity all together. I became very critical – a very dangerous place to be spiritually. Like a parasite, my diminishing attitude drove me away from my community of believers. I pulled away even further by relinquishing my responsibilities – specifically mentoring and teaching, two things that I loved very much. Furthermore, just like I did as a child, I began to isolate myself, dissolving all accountability around me – self- centeredness soon gave way to selfish behavior. Slowly but surely, just as the heat from the boiling water sucked the strength from the frog, my gradual pulling away from God left me cold, hard and ineffective spiritually. I was primed for a relapse. All I need was a good excuse – or a half- hearted one for that matter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My excuse came in the form of an injury and a trip to the doctor. Knowing good and well that I shouldn’t accept the prescription for the pain medicine, pure selfishness kicked in and over road any logic that I had bouncing around in my head. I remember telling myself “just this one prescription and that’s it. Besides, I am injured and the doctor is giving them to me. Yea, just this one and I’ll quit.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Yea right!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Addiction doesn’t’ work that way. As soon as the beloved chemical hit my brain sending the all too familiar soothing, warm and fuzzy feeling to embrace my body – put a fork in me I was done. Of course, one prescription led to another and another and then…well, you get the picture. Active addiction had been resurrected, and it takes no prisoners. Its goal is to win at any cost. My tolerance level for the chemical picked up right where it left off and it quickly skyrocketed. It was soon followed by the paralyzing fear of withdrawal. I was spinning out of control. Even I couldn’t believe how fast and far I had fallen as well as the depths of what I was willing to do in order to get what I needed (wanted).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Which brings me full circle – September 4, 2009. The events of that day were really an end to something that was very close to taking my life, as well as the beginning to a whole new level of freedom. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">God heard my prayer…and He’s still answering it today.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When I started writing this blog series some three or four months ago, I had no idea what direction it would really go. As I stated in my very first post, I simply began writing because I felt as if that was what I was supposed to do. The cool thing is when I got to about part five or six in the series, I realized that God was using the blog to help me get brutally honest with my life and uncover faulty character issues. I never imagined that I’d do this through a form of social networking. I guess, in more ways than one, I’ve grown from this initial series of posts. Who knows?...I may even open a Facebook account when I get out. The end.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Thanks for reading this series!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Stay tuned.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Big Love!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The Journey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I wish I could vouch that from the time of my spiritual conversion on I never gave into the selfish corrupt nature I had fostered nor ever abused prescription pain pills again.<span> </span>But obviously from where I sit today, you’ve most likely figured out that’s not the case.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No one ends up in jail on a winning streak.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve heard testimonies of people who upon being regenerated by the Spirit of God never again picked up another drug or took another drink.<span> </span>My journey is not that.<span> </span>Do not misunderstand me…I fully believe the power of God can miraculously and instantaneously change a person to that degree.<span> </span>In fact, I believe in the power of God so much that I believe, if God wanted to, He could wake me up tomorrow a one-legged Chinese man.<span> </span>Further than that, I believe if God wanted to, He could wake me up tomorrow a one-legged Chinese man and make me believe I’d always been a one-legged Chinese man.<span> </span>I guess what I’m trying to convey is that it’s been my observation, as well as my experience, that more often than not, when it comes to God molding and shaping His children, “the journey” most commonly contains a series of trials and errors – peaks and troughs.<span> </span>The height, depth and extent of such are different for each person.<span> </span>The miraculous aspect being that through these trials and errors, peaks and troughs, we children begin to personally know and understand the fullness of His grace, mercy, forgiveness, faithfulness, kindness, trustworthiness, truthfulness, and most of all – His BIG LOVE for us.<span> </span>It will serve us well to realize – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">There is no “cookie cutter” journey –</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">yours is yours, </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">mine is mine.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">EMBRACE THIS.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As I wrote, in part nine of this blog series, when I truly came to BELIEVE in Christ, my life resembled a train wreck – train wrecks take time to clean up.<span> </span>The rebellion of my youth had aided and produced a lot of hidden hedonistic behaviors that needed to be identified and dealt with.<span> </span>All the various doors of pleasure and excitement that I had kicked open along the way needed to be addressed as well.<span> </span>Not to mention the corrupt moral nature – used to appeasing itself whenever and however it wanted – needed to be corralled.<span> </span>The years of a self-serving lifestyle had accumulated a myriad of hurts, habits and hang-ups (none of which God ever wastes) that only God could heal and straighten out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Try as I may, the first few years of my journey out of addiction were riddled with relapses.<span> </span>Although I sincerely did not want to live a life dependent on pain pills any longer, I continued to go back to what I knew would provide me with a sense of relief from everyday life as well as instant gratification – pain pills.<span> </span>The problem was I’d lived in pill popping mode for so long that I didn’t know how NOT to live without them.<span> </span>For nearly ten years, pain pills had been my comforter and counselor – my coping mechanism when I experienced unsettling feelings of insecurity or inadequacy.<span> </span>Above and beyond that, they had been my recreation and everyday life enhancer.<span> </span>My life was accustomed to revolving around the synthetic and pseudo pleasure that pain pills produced – nothing was fun without them.<span> </span>And then one day…that mode of living was to be no more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was left holding the shattered remnant of a life </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">frayed and mangled by addiction and very poor choices.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t know what to do.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I had lived in a chemically aided state for so long that I had literally forgotten how to live sober.<span> </span>I had no coping mechanisms – pain pills were the extent of my coping skills.<span> </span>I had no grasp on how to deal with life on life’s terms…and the pile of twisted wreckage that best described my life…are you kidding me?<span> </span>I had not a clue of how to sort through it and begin to put it back together.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I needed HELP! </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkEUXSlwxDEmPU1nTMQml8u4NX-hmNs2f8EMf3MKpahtymUuMfh858Z8izoxRYHIHyceB4d63WH-HzM4Y_BdtrmprkTjoDq7mSsEi65di6waQGVs9YH1tLGLMZY9WweVXw5njtKwvswAZ-/s1600/lake+lookout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkEUXSlwxDEmPU1nTMQml8u4NX-hmNs2f8EMf3MKpahtymUuMfh858Z8izoxRYHIHyceB4d63WH-HzM4Y_BdtrmprkTjoDq7mSsEi65di6waQGVs9YH1tLGLMZY9WweVXw5njtKwvswAZ-/s400/lake+lookout.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Through a series of events I learned of a one year residential Christian discipleship program that assisted people with life controlling issues such as mine.<span> </span>Though initially a year sounded like a long time to me, my inability to successfully stay off the pills and my immense desire to change nudged me to enroll in the program – so I did.<span> </span>It was there that God met my effort and began to heal and repair the years of damage I had inflicted on myself.<span> </span>How you ask?<span> </span>By showing me Who He was through the Truth of His Word.<span> </span>As He did this, I began to understand more and more of</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Who God is – </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">who I am – </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">but most importantly, <u>who I am in Him</u>. <span> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As God began to renew my mind and heal my wounds, true life and the world we live in began to make more sense to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">After graduating from the Christian discipleship program, I stayed on a few more years as a staff member.<span> </span>I eventually left to take a position at a Christian university.<span> </span>I sheepishly smile and chuckle to myself when I recall the prideful confidence I had in myself at various stages of my spiritual growth – thinking at times that I had matured fully and “arrived” as a Christian – completely unaware of the fact that there was much more refining that needed to take place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The reality of this need became grossly apparent to me shortly upon arrival at the university.<span> </span>Although in my mind I thought I’d reached the Super Bowl of Christianity, I quickly began to experience feelings of inferiority and inadequacy because of my past and background.<span> </span>I felt as if I didn’t belong.<span> </span>It didn’t take me long to figure out that I had not “arrived” and that this step along my journey was not the Super Bowl.<span> </span>The truth of the matter was I really had only been transferred by God to another location of His school of life.<span> </span>I had no idea how deep and revealing the curriculum would be.<span> </span>God would use this new location as a giant x-ray machine – revealing to me faulty character issues that stealthily loomed below the surface.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In the end I would have my opportunity to get brutally honest.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-11785879274790129382010-12-28T11:35:00.000-08:002010-12-28T11:36:27.872-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 9<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The question and the COUNSELOR.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WYBwj-4XCxpJWdYd3SNDeBaLmFarGpgz3D5Kvodok4k1tzXx2wYjnpjB1o_8EM7WWOpPWE5g2JDcfHSZsU_vLmVRaSalDBJR1DDUPnOF-nO_nrcHUUMIIrlJSR5398b0BciiL3n4FB6G/s1600/skeleton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WYBwj-4XCxpJWdYd3SNDeBaLmFarGpgz3D5Kvodok4k1tzXx2wYjnpjB1o_8EM7WWOpPWE5g2JDcfHSZsU_vLmVRaSalDBJR1DDUPnOF-nO_nrcHUUMIIrlJSR5398b0BciiL3n4FB6G/s640/skeleton.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is the shell of me shortly before the events below. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s a bitter pill to swallow when you are forced to look into the mirror of life and catch a glimpse of what you’ve become. My love affair with pain pills had taken me places I never thought I’d go, enticed me to do things I never thought I’d do and make choices that even today are still sometimes unbelievably hard for me to understand. I never set out to fail the way I had, and I certainly never desired to become the puppet of the addiction to pain pills puppeteer. But that’s exactly what I had become. The rebellion of my youth had culminated into despicable acts of self-centered sin and left me holding the bag of moral bankruptcy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The words of a great friend of mine had never been more true:</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“you’ll never find in sin what you are looking for.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">(What’s up Ritchie!)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My chemically aided fumbled search for love and acceptance had literally taken me into a desert wasteland of lostness. I needed rescued.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s funny…but God’s search and rescue tactics don’t always take on the appearance we imagine they should. Some 12 years ago, the onset of my “journey out” came in the form of a drug detox unit and a simple – but not so simple – question. Although this was my first go at a detox, the question presented to me by one of the counselors was one that I had secretly pondered over and over in my mind. In fact, it was one that had haunted me for several years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As I walked down the hallway of the lock-down unit, I strategically kept to myself by avoiding eye contact with everyone I passed. I was ashamed, embarrassed and downright beat up from the disastrous choices I had made to keep my pill addiction secret and afloat. As if he’d been laying in wait for me to shuffle by, the counselor stepped from amongst the shadows into my path and asked how I was doing. His unexpected presence startled me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">To me, this was a stupid question. If it were not apparent to him that I was a complete mess, then obviously this man had chosen the wrong profession. I gave him the typical brush off response – “I’m ok” – in hopes that he would retreat back to whatever office he crawled out of…but noooo…he wanted to talk…whether I wanted to or not.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I appeased him through his small talk questions but as the conversation proceeded I slowly began to sense that there was something different about this counselor compared to the others I’d encountered. He didn’t care to dwell on the drugs or how much I had used of what or when I first started my drug escapade. He seemed more interested in something completely different – ME – and where I was spiritually – specifically, where I was with God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">We muddled through the basic religious questions of what denomination I was, if and where I went to church, and if so how often, but the conversation took on another form when he asked “the question.” With sincerity in his eyes, he looked at me and bluntly asked, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“If you died today, do you know where you’d spend eternity?”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Caught completely off guard by his candidly delivered question, I now stood face to face with the very question that had haunted me for many years. I felt as if I’d been exposed. As long as the question was merely in my mind, I thought I could ignore it, file it away for another day (another year), but now that it had been vocalized by someone else and aimed directly at me - </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I could ignore it no longer.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Not willing to entirely concede my lostness, I quickly retreated to several of the topics we had already discussed. I fumbled over my words, stammering and stuttering as I regurgitated religious sounding jargon such as – I believe in Jesus; I never did any of these things with the intentions of hurting anyone; deep down I’m a good person; my parents are good Christians; they always took me to church; in fact, I even go myself, once in awhile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When I had finished my unsuccessful rant, the counselor said in a very diplomatic but firm way –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“I didn’t ask you about your parents,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">if you went to church,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">or if you were a good person.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I asked you if you died today, did you know where you’d spend eternity?”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I COULD NOT ANSWER HIS QUESTION.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In all honesty, I had always considered myself a Christian – at the age of seven I had walked the aisle, said the prayer and was baptized shortly thereafter. Although, truth be known, if you would’ve asked the people I went to school with, worked with and hung out with during my early adulthood, their response probably would have been something like this – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Christian?!?! I didn’t even think he went to church!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Deep down I too knew something was amiss in my life. None of my life resembled anything godly. In fact, it was the complete opposite – I was the epitome of worldly. My choices revolved around ME – what was good for ME – what felt good to ME – how this or that would benefit ME. Additionally, aiding and abetting all of my catering to ME were the deceptive behaviors I had drug along with me from my childhood as well as all the doors of pleasure I had kicked open along my way. The truth of the matter was -</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was as far away from God as one could be.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The conversation with the counselor lasted several more minutes but to be honest with you the only other thing I remember from our encounter was that he gave me a Bible and encouraged me to read it. I was dazed and confused as I walked back to my room; my simple stroll down the hall had left my head spinning. As I entered my room, I threw the Bible on the desk vowing not to read it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was still gripped by my rebellion and pride, </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">but war had erupted in my soul.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember rationalizing in my mind that I had gotten myself in to this mess and by gosh I’d get myself out of it. I would not use God or religion as a crutch. Oh how wrong my thinking was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The war raged on throughout the night and into the early hours of the next morning. I was tired and restless. I felt like I could explode into a babbling ball of emotions at any point, but I would not relent. Like a movie playing over and over in my head, I recalled failures and mistakes that I had made along my journey. They were painful, and I did not like what I saw. Occasionally, I would look over at the desk where I’d thrown the Bible earlier that day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It was like something inside of me was leading me to pick it up – just read it. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally, I did!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It had been quite some time since I’d read the Bible…but for some strange reason it felt right. It was like the words on the pages began to leap off at me. As I read, all I kept thinking to myself was, “That’s me! That’s me! That’s me!” Without realizing it I began to do something I hadn’t done for a long time – nor do I do that often – I began to cry. Like ice disappearing in the sun - my cold, hard, calloused heart began to melt. I knew that I’d been running from God. No matter where I was or what I did, I’d felt His presence gently guiding and counseling me to give up for quite some time. So it was there in a hospital bed, deep within the depths of the lock-down detox unit that I responded to <u>THE COUNSELOR</u> with three simple words – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I give up!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew what I meant –</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">and so did God.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No amount of humanistic reasoning or rationalizing in my mind could trump the truth that I’d been living separated from God due to the sin in my life. I needed the gift of God’s grace provided by Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection in order to obtain peace with God. By faith that’s what I accepted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I can – but I can’t – explain what happened to me that night – it was spiritually supernatural. Unless you’ve personally experienced the regeneration that comes from accepting God’s gift of grace, any description of what happened internally to me will sound like mere foolishness. Therefore, all I’ll venture to say at this point is that I felt different. A strange soothing peace had enveloped me. Although I had many self-inflicted wounds, a corrupt moral nature, as well as a host of problems to sort out, somehow I knew I was now on the right path. My journey out had begun. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-17878737747768811832010-12-24T14:29:00.000-08:002010-12-28T06:11:47.979-08:00Merry Christmas!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSM0l7QQ9lIzmAVQvBT39jxWOLIqiZf6Jvp3Fx9qZKjncKerT_QyuUVCxfv7sY2s6mh1N5-2muUOXkbkzI7H-lnEb3EytGY3PQRgoH4-wXNoZgY7Ik_xd2FcdHLFvvdEnXAWTS_l7v9llI/s1600/Merry+Christmas-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSM0l7QQ9lIzmAVQvBT39jxWOLIqiZf6Jvp3Fx9qZKjncKerT_QyuUVCxfv7sY2s6mh1N5-2muUOXkbkzI7H-lnEb3EytGY3PQRgoH4-wXNoZgY7Ik_xd2FcdHLFvvdEnXAWTS_l7v9llI/s400/Merry+Christmas-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The above image was drawn by one of Scott's friends on the "inside." Thought you might find it interesting - such amazing talent with such limited resources (he used a simple bic pen to draw this image and got creative with adding the color).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As we are apart this year, we realize how precious time together with family is - especially during the holidays. We hope you enjoy each moment you spend with your loved ones, and we are anxiously awaiting being able to spend next Christmas together as a complete family!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank you all for your love, prayers and support!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas from our family to yours!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;">...from the inside...ray-ray</div><div style="text-align: right;">...on the outside...lump</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-8391345434466309792010-12-13T10:33:00.000-08:002010-12-27T06:53:02.720-08:00From Playmate to Inmate…how I got here - Part 8<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Insanity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">After six years with Uncle Sammy, two TMJ surgeries and hundreds of prescriptions for pain pills, my Air Force career wound down. There were many factors that weighed into why I chose to trade my Air Force dress blue uniform in for a suit and tie of the civilian world, but ultimately it came down to one pretty simple reason – a tremendous job offer from a national/international company that would allow my family to move back home. Thus we did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It wasn’t long after moving back that my personal life and relationships began to completely unravel. Many of the old friends that I’d left behind some six years before were literally still sitting on the same bar stools I’d left them on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I reclaimed my old stool.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I started playing golf with the “old gang” again – especially the 19<sup>th</sup> green (ask a golfer) – although, golf was never fully about golf for us. Oh sure, we were competitive and all, but a large part of our rounds of golf were more about the rounds of drinks we consumed while playing, as well as the “extracurricular” items we used to enhance the experience. Though I would take part in the “extras,” I always had my own little “something-something” stashed away in my golf bag that even the gang didn’t know about –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">my pills -</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">my own little secret.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Sound familiar?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The guys I ran with were partiers and all…but I began to notice something above and beyond in my life. Unlike most of them, that when the party was over it was over, my use of “extras” and pills was becoming consistent and persistent. They had become “the norm” – part of my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My move back home would last only two and a half years. This time when I moved away it was without my family, but with a lot more baggage. My life became the epitome of the working definition of insanity – doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. I became like a nomad wondering and searching aimlessly from job to job, city to city, and relationship to relationship – on a quest to find something or someone that would calm the raging storm within my soul and fill the dark empty void.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was not successful.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">With each failure, I heaped abundant amounts of self-inflicted pain upon my heart. It came to the point that no amount of pain pills or “extras” would extinguish the pain that I had ignited.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">There was a time that I blamed my demise on my decision of getting out of the Air Force and moving back home. But after many years of introspective evaluation, in all honesty, I had to admit that it had nothing to do with the choice. My self-centeredness and addiction had me on a collision course with destruction long before I packed the truck to move back home. It wouldn’t have mattered where I was or who I was with – location and others weren’t the problem – I was the problem and…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I wanted out.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I wanted to die.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank God He doesn’t always give us what we want.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Instead of leaving me to my own destructive thinking and ways, God began to use His loving discipline and abundant GRACE to get my attention. Although there are several definitions for GRACE, in this incident I mean God doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking back through life’s rearview mirror, I smile when I think about the gift of GRACE God placed in my life so many years before this hellish time –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingwJJTIn2EOiwEEfog-IaT18M8SjH8mXiZ48mqxd4wmqBpkkeuMC8b0b8J8IXmcQsuMSJ4zNAoROrNynih_JumwgM_qYDCQPkpWgNPd1htSNIIe0bih6Vs5r7yGy1Bfr8ImRIB4gAMbMP/s1600/London+glasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingwJJTIn2EOiwEEfog-IaT18M8SjH8mXiZ48mqxd4wmqBpkkeuMC8b0b8J8IXmcQsuMSJ4zNAoROrNynih_JumwgM_qYDCQPkpWgNPd1htSNIIe0bih6Vs5r7yGy1Bfr8ImRIB4gAMbMP/s320/London+glasses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">my daughter – Pooh. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In all honesty, if it were not for her presence in my life back in those dark, dismal, confused days, I probably would have “checked out.” I literally get goose bumps sometimes when I think about God’s sovereignty and how He knew that I would need her existence, love and character in my life in order to muster up the strength to press on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So press on I did. I slowly began to realize that I really didn’t want to die; and if I didn’t want to die, that meant I really wanted to live; and if I were going to live, change had to take place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I had no idea how hard and painful that change would be.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-36191154506194234252010-12-07T07:09:00.000-08:002010-12-07T09:06:12.942-08:00From Playmate to Inmate…how I got here - Part 7<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">East bound – gone south.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s funny what we remember.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Like it was yesterday, I remember playing outside with my daughter (big love Pooh) as we watched the movers wrap, box, tag and tote all our earthly possessions to the large moving truck parked out front. It was pointed east – the direction we were bound the very next morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Although it was late December, the temperature had fixed itself pleasantly in the mid 80’s with clear skies and light dry air – not entirely unusual for this time of year in the south-central region of the United States. The reason I remember the weather so well that day is because of the drastic change that loomed. As the movers completed their task and the day drifted to evening, the temperature, sky and air did a complete 180 – by morning we would awake to a bona fide winter ice storm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5NTHjaELhQ57f00FbtoE5DyD4706-0l77RGQ7eFxVluEh6hFgIyMCOaJp9i6BpZCAGc28Ip7TOoZqqf00MxQJpPQFCUW-7IBo2kA407VyteK7vRfB1Zfzh7dAUCWmX7tOSX0gRCqnrB7/s1600/scott+in+snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5NTHjaELhQ57f00FbtoE5DyD4706-0l77RGQ7eFxVluEh6hFgIyMCOaJp9i6BpZCAGc28Ip7TOoZqqf00MxQJpPQFCUW-7IBo2kA407VyteK7vRfB1Zfzh7dAUCWmX7tOSX0gRCqnrB7/s320/scott+in+snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The weather changed so drastically, it was like living in an episode of Bewitched where Samantha twitched her nose and instantly you were mystically transported to the arctic. We quickly exchanged the shorts and t-shirts of the previous day for coats, gloves and boots. In hindsight, I probably should have waited for the weather to clear before starting out on the trek back east, but my youth and vigor said differently…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">No, we were out of there!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So with the car packed to the gills – including cat and dog – we were off…east bound… into the storm. Two storms, actually…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">one visible…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the other invisible.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">One was obviously tangible and treacherous to drive in, and the other was one developing deep within my soul. Unbeknownst to me, I had a stowaway traveling with me – the initial stages of dependency and addiction to prescription pain pills. In the not too distant future, it would slowly begin to unpack itself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My Air Force recruiting assignment was in a nice quaint town conveniently tucked amidst the cotton and tobacco fields of the South. As a child I had passed through my new home numerous times with my parents on our annual pilgrimage to Myrtle Beach for fun and sun. The folks were friendly and hospitable, and the weather had a moderate balance of the four seasons. The town had a Wal-Mart – which, back in those days, was a symbol to the surrounding communities that this little town had arrived. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb82dVZ_nj9OGAcbwzFGK7VaR-68kcjwmM7AGdHzpMFwtllY1hUkocLInU-tcy0iXpy8Tigkq5_YiN1yDZK2ntzIF2tF99uvTEFUjgq3GGJbofHpnQryCltp6rJ12PM8MrwYbasbKgAGHm/s1600/AF+article.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb82dVZ_nj9OGAcbwzFGK7VaR-68kcjwmM7AGdHzpMFwtllY1hUkocLInU-tcy0iXpy8Tigkq5_YiN1yDZK2ntzIF2tF99uvTEFUjgq3GGJbofHpnQryCltp6rJ12PM8MrwYbasbKgAGHm/s320/AF+article.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My office was in the mall – a good location because, like the rest of small town America at that time, the mall was the place to hang. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My new home also held a treasure.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Hidden obscurely within its community, this gift from God, that would play a huge role in assisting me to sort out life and relationships, would actually not be made known to me for several years to come.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was a natural at recruiting and soon established myself as one of the best for that region. Although my professional life was excelling, it was no mirror for my personal life. On the outside everything looked well put together – I had a family, a career that was on track and the hallmark of “things” that the world uses to gauge success.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">IT WAS A FARCE.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Internally, I was a wreck. My closest personal relationships were unraveling, and I felt completely helpless.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It was then, for the first time that I began to realize that I wasn’t merely taking Percocets for the pain in my jaw – I was also taking them to shroud the pain in my heart and fill the void in my soul. I knew my pill-popping was getting out of control, but I didn’t care – they worked. I was numb to the pain and emptiness. The soothing, warm and fuzzy sense of well being the Percocets delivered was magically powerful. With the pop of a pill, I could instantly escape and change any feelings of insecurity, rejection or frustration. Interestingly as well, pain pills gave me energy, endurance and confidence. I liked who I was on Percocets, and I liked how I performed on them too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The love affair was growing deeper and deeper.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">But the truth was, this was nothing but a new shield – a mask that gave me an unbelievable positive sense of self worth – counterfeit as it was. It was becoming my “way of life.” Slowly and methodically my addiction was unpacking itself. My move back east had quickly gone south.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-19440511833469197582010-11-29T11:19:00.000-08:002011-01-06T08:14:23.852-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here – Part 6<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Uncle Sammy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Under the cover of Christmas break – and after just one semester – I snuck back to the university and recovered my gear from my dorm room. The university had strongly suggested I not return. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s amazing what a .96 GPA will get you.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I had now experienced my first taste of failure.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In defeat, I headed home unaware of the turbulent storm with self that was brewing on the horizon. Fueled by rebellion, self-centeredness and pleasure, I began to make choices that would lay a false foundation in which to exist. It wasn’t long before the outcome of my choices began to reveal the actual storm that raged within. The storm would settle in for several years to come.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Barely out of my teens, I was forced with some very adult decisions to make.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">With no job to speak of, no money to continue college, and a family to support, I decided to explore the option of joining the United States Air Force. In all honesty, I really didn’t want to do it; I was scared of the unknown and extremely unsure of myself due to being bitten by a string of poor choices. Besides that, the Air Force didn’t sound like it matched up with my mental attitude at the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I DIDN’T WANT TO GROW UP!!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The very selfish, self-centered, rebellious me wanted to live on pleasure and party with the boys. From what I understood, the Air Force was big on </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Rules </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Accountability</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Discipline </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Structure</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This to me sounded all too familiar. But in the end, logic added up over my empty checkbook, and I decided to clean myself up and submit to Uncle Sam for the next four years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This wouldn’t be the last time I “cleaned myself up.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEuRpr8LmZDNv_fJqHNaL2oh5OI-W1WOD7zgL7jsYIgIgJWimfOEqBZOMYbNADwxc1a3aFKwEl1Fbk1gzXJaOEHaRkVnj46RpYjHxLRPCOVfv_WIFw2ZYRXNVMGTIggmZL5JxNZl5d7N2/s1600/AF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEuRpr8LmZDNv_fJqHNaL2oh5OI-W1WOD7zgL7jsYIgIgJWimfOEqBZOMYbNADwxc1a3aFKwEl1Fbk1gzXJaOEHaRkVnj46RpYjHxLRPCOVfv_WIFw2ZYRXNVMGTIggmZL5JxNZl5d7N2/s320/AF.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, it may be hard for some of you to believe, but I took to the Air Force like a fish to water. Why wouldn’t I? I understood the concept of living under rules, accountability, discipline, and structure, and I certainly knew a few things about conforming to fit in. So with those things in my favor, I thrived in the military environment and began to slowly pull myself out of the proverbial dark hole of my reckless choices.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It didn’t take long before I was able to support my family as well as get back into college full-time at night. I even ventured out and tested my entrepreneurial abilities by starting my own little lawn care business. I was busy, productive and achieving the goals that I’d set before me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t get me wrong – all was not picture perfect.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was still very self-centered and loved to slip in a little pleasure with the drink every now and again (emphasis on the again). But for the most part, I seemed to be growing up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6xptkh3ecWVCPfSPnU9tZZsNCvWwKKZucHcb8KMSuVOcPIPcYmEiQ0rBU35u-gCkWrKrVZ_M5LC5KzpKBinZfox7MTqxupiYjmjSLmPWmU8exPGNySO3YMgZ1Ge6ecDosWTNav2hisEe/s1600/with+af+official.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6xptkh3ecWVCPfSPnU9tZZsNCvWwKKZucHcb8KMSuVOcPIPcYmEiQ0rBU35u-gCkWrKrVZ_M5LC5KzpKBinZfox7MTqxupiYjmjSLmPWmU8exPGNySO3YMgZ1Ge6ecDosWTNav2hisEe/s320/with+af+official.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">By the end of my first four year enlistment, I had been promoted to Sergeant, earned a college degree, and been selected to become a US Air Force recruiter – which came with a little give and take. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I got to move back East, </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">but had to give Uncle Sam four more years of my life.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">One morning, just prior to moving back East, I woke up with what I thought was an excruciating earache. Unable to bare the pain, I decided to go to the base clinic and get it checked out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">What I would find that day would set into motion </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">a LOVE-HATE affair that would last, </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">on and off, for nearly two decades.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">After I had been examined, poked, prodded and x-rayed, the doctor came into the room and announced,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have some good news and bad news…which do you want first?”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Although, this may seem like a clever little way to deliver bad news, when it comes out of your doctor’s mouth, it has a tendency to be quite unnerving. He asked me if I’d been in an accident or if I’d been experiencing headaches recently - to which the answer was NO. This questioning was not helping my anxiety. He proceeded to ask me if I’d had any dental work done lately – to which the answer was YES. I’d had my wisdom teeth extracted not too long ago. With a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow, the doctor said “that makes sense.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The good news:</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> I didn’t have an earache.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The bad news:</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> I had something terribly wrong with my right jaw.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It (my right jaw joint) was severely inflamed and very, very sore. But why? Probably a result of my recent wisdom teeth surgery, but he could not answer for sure. I had to see a maxillofacial/oral surgeon IMMEDIATELY. Fortunately he was in the same building. So with records and x-rays in hand, I was off for the first of many appointments with the specialist. His preliminary diagnosis was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temporomandibular_joint_disorder">Temporomandibular Joint Disorder (TMJ)</a>, brought on my having my jaw joint overextended during my wisdom teeth extraction. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Unfortunately, there wasn’t much the specialist could do for me at the time. Both the swelling and the pain needed to be gotten under control before he could better determine the extent of the damage. So with an appointment to see him the following week, he loaded me up with…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">anti-inflammatory meds,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">muscle relaxers,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">and...PAIN PILLS –</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">PERCOCETS.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The love affair would begin.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-88308156912107249782010-11-15T11:17:00.000-08:002011-01-06T08:14:02.119-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 5<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Trick or Treat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Sadly, when I went away to college I didn’t’ go to get an education…I went to get away from home. My naughty-by-nature, self-conscious, small town, cookie cutter identity had not only grown weary of rural American living – my rebellious attitude had also waxed tired of the…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Rules</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Accountability</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Discipline</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Structure</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…of my parents. The love, protection and provisions they gave me had somehow become distorted. I perceived them as a hindrance – an out-and-out attempt to stifle my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I had allowed myself to be hoodwinked. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was ready for bigger and better things – the hills of my hometown could hold me no longer. Propelled by arrogance and ignorance, I was ready for </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">F-R-E-E-D-O-M</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">- whether I could handle it or not.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfv15AzWdzmjY6LZwjrHLYaS73ZWHi_ufo6x7dFX39FpOEnGE2WviEaQACJNO_UjjtihPJlYoJGFXqvHpkP7T1JVnkVMhlif9ewCE4zOz-yIemeiMjy9ZH0QhPSwR5BlrxOfZ4FaDIPLyR/s1600/Scott+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfv15AzWdzmjY6LZwjrHLYaS73ZWHi_ufo6x7dFX39FpOEnGE2WviEaQACJNO_UjjtihPJlYoJGFXqvHpkP7T1JVnkVMhlif9ewCE4zOz-yIemeiMjy9ZH0QhPSwR5BlrxOfZ4FaDIPLyR/s320/Scott+18.jpg" width="218" /></a></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The warmth of the sun standing tall in the crystal clear Carolina blue sky, still held its own with crisp pre-fall air of early September – a good day to move. It was a bitter-sweet, nervous but exciting anticipation I felt as me and my parents lugged boxes, bags, remnant carpet, mini-fridge, clothes and other essentials into my new 12x12 domain (sounds a little like jail – minus the carpet and mini-fridge </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">J</span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">). After Mom’s ritual check and recheck of things, making sure her baby’s gear was precisely arranged, put up and in order, it was time to say our goodbyes (at least for a week). As I waved goodbye with a hint of tears in my eyes, I remember thinking to myself, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now what do I do?”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The day I had longed and hoped for was now here…but at that moment for some strange reason, I could not remember why I wanted it so bad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I missed my parents.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsUONJV_FMZJcCyp7UPEfyoEC9wFxi1zB4CT0xUuyfArUwzWvpcB-NlY9nJLNdx7IgTRP60MPcU4rhJuw2XhfWPVYN0HQNDtXsujOCGfGDZtiZ06cflDjYLVPQfLbYU_b5SrXO2j7FJn3/s1600/Meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsUONJV_FMZJcCyp7UPEfyoEC9wFxi1zB4CT0xUuyfArUwzWvpcB-NlY9nJLNdx7IgTRP60MPcU4rhJuw2XhfWPVYN0HQNDtXsujOCGfGDZtiZ06cflDjYLVPQfLbYU_b5SrXO2j7FJn3/s1600/Meme.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeBTDRTvzQc4lJgGWsucoflmc99peGlvDQQFlt9omHrMTIXGCzHCbPP4QMLybJCwVv1ZLmjvdnII5bvXH2pB8Md1gYnOZHe1cmsUDhbQaGQe2hs_zpaKG0K6yTH1iXoJDsIZQlLJ1Upug/s1600/papa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeBTDRTvzQc4lJgGWsucoflmc99peGlvDQQFlt9omHrMTIXGCzHCbPP4QMLybJCwVv1ZLmjvdnII5bvXH2pB8Md1gYnOZHe1cmsUDhbQaGQe2hs_zpaKG0K6yTH1iXoJDsIZQlLJ1Upug/s1600/papa.jpg" /></a></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The campus was big, but not large. Like most good sized universities there were hundreds of students in my general education classes. I soon began to feel like “a number” – just one of many. There were thousands of people from all over the country with a plethora of various genres represented. To me they all seemed much more intriguing, had done many more interesting things and came from social worlds that seemed much more attractive than anything I’d experienced thus far. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Talk about reality check! </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Any inkling of self-awareness or worth that I brought from home was almost instantaneously dispelled. Over the first few weeks, I would begin to discover holes in my shield. Who I thought I was did not seem to fit in this world. I felt stripped, naked and vulnerable – I didn’t know who I was anymore, or why I was even there. My plan had back-fired. Loneliness settled in. I didn’t know what to do…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…or did I?...</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…adjust…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…I had to adjust…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…adjust to fit in…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…conform…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…CONFORM!...</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…DO NOT be made fun of!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I started hanging out with a group of more socially savvied guys on my hall – in other words – PARTIERS. Like most “suitcase colleges”, Thursday night was the big party night. And for the most part, at least for the first few weeks, partying with the socially skilled was contained to that night. Although, it wasn’t long before Thursday extended to Friday…and Friday to Saturday. Drinking quickly became our common denominator; “the drink” was involved no matter what we did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The popular salutation of Halloween, Trick or Treat, took on a new meaning for me that fall. On Halloween night, I “upped the ante” on my party world – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I bought my first bag of pot.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Sure, I’d seen it in high school, even experimented with it one or two times (wink, wink), but I certainly was no Jeff Spicoli of <i>Fast Times at Ridgemont High</i>…(yet). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh what TREAT I thought I’d found!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A substance that allowed me to change the way I felt – at the flick of a Bic. With one little “poof-poof” I could make myself feel good and confident, chasing away any feelings of inferiority and insecurity. I could relax and come out of my shell. I soon discovered three parts of a principle that would shape my existence for many years to come.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">1)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When I smoked dope, I was funny.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">2)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Other people thought I was funny too - they like me – accepted me – wanted to be around me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">3)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I liked both 1 & 2…a lot!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Soon after this discovery, like the drinking, the pot smoking picked up too. It started off as something I did with the guys on party night, but it wasn’t long before that wasn’t enough. I had to be ready to perform from the get-go. I had to be on point and funny before they picked me up. Consequently, I started smoking dope by myself…everyday…all day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It didn’t take long before I crossed the line – </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the psychological, imaginary line of dependency on a substance to control the way I felt…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">and I didn’t even know it.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">- The TREAT had become a TRICK.-</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">At that time all I knew was that I liked this newly discovered power. The little boy had grown up and found the soothing and comforting power of pleasure – right at his finger tips (no pun intended). A synthetic and pseudo form of pleasure, but in my mind, pleasure, nonetheless. A romance was born – a romance augmented by an intense sneaky drive for excitement. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Unbeknownst to me, hedonism –</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">the love of excitement and pleasure</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">- was slowly becoming my god. A god that would patiently and stealthily try to destroy me!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-44902631229343095622010-11-08T11:33:00.000-08:002010-11-08T12:58:59.037-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 4<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Identity by conformity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was going to start this blog with the statement, “I hated high school” – but after thinking about it a bit, I decided that “hate” was a little too strong of a word. So I’ll begin this way…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">For the record, I extremely disliked high school (come to think of it, Jr. High too). The cliques, struggle to fit in, search for identity, and mere awkwardness of growing up…all centered around academics and sitting still in a classroom all day (remember, I’m self-diagnosed ADHD). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I mean seriously…give me a break...this was not my idea of a good time.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t get me wrong there were some good times in the midst of the mess – but that can be said of jail too. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In fact, in any given situation, circumstance or time of life there are always those people you meet or special times and memories that are produced that would not have happened nor could have been duplicated outside of that particular situation, circumstance or time. So in that regard, high school was OK.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I have great memories of “running the roads” (as my dad called it), going to the mall on weekends, Friday night football games, and double dating with my best friend from life. A little piece of irony, his nickname was “High School”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa_iKbNRF8ZXKzmzuRv_nq4EeuyFiOeJ05QpwlGO6qx6O4ChAJSJLCHpn4uMJnTqrOukjSYPFqvnERt1hPCVTVS4UTax85asoJqEJb0MlJR6lgwXiHmaXX_FhAIK9ZrjmKoXtfv0B1kq_/s1600/With+Dave+Bourne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa_iKbNRF8ZXKzmzuRv_nq4EeuyFiOeJ05QpwlGO6qx6O4ChAJSJLCHpn4uMJnTqrOukjSYPFqvnERt1hPCVTVS4UTax85asoJqEJb0MlJR6lgwXiHmaXX_FhAIK9ZrjmKoXtfv0B1kq_/s320/With+Dave+Bourne.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: small;">That's High School on the left.</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I will never forget my first car - a cool old car, a 1966 Mustang - and cruising “the park” (our teenage hangout) on warm summer nights listening to Lover Boy and Tom Petty…on 8 track!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I smile when I think about basketball and golf team away trips, and the memory of a high school dance that I had “way too much” fun at.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLRJhhR-ERPWQNnNy0OxDNyt8eJXBaznZBTjGH44L2ZhGXhbLFgNz8M_HWdL0p2gAWSV2qBQF1jaAiGppehm8ENIz7939j3YBJqxil9ZqA8S3v-ZtEBJ2_MKQ9zdBc5yb7vrlVG0HDv3b/s1600/HS+BBall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLRJhhR-ERPWQNnNy0OxDNyt8eJXBaznZBTjGH44L2ZhGXhbLFgNz8M_HWdL0p2gAWSV2qBQF1jaAiGppehm8ENIz7939j3YBJqxil9ZqA8S3v-ZtEBJ2_MKQ9zdBc5yb7vrlVG0HDv3b/s320/HS+BBall.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Since I’m on this little trip of nostalgia, looking back introspectively I’d have to say that I was average in intelligence, average in looks and average in popularity – somewhere between</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9AJ6L3BxANn0WWETdlpTxOdNgJeJjaEiafWtStJBg20ZDIDx98qOWr_msEgv2gGj0zijKLB6uhb80gbv5xShkbz3nAVBVe7bevpRwRv0d_un-FTtyyKAzZRkWFK3d8w_DWiDyVcTHUqE/s1600/Marty+McFly.gif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9AJ6L3BxANn0WWETdlpTxOdNgJeJjaEiafWtStJBg20ZDIDx98qOWr_msEgv2gGj0zijKLB6uhb80gbv5xShkbz3nAVBVe7bevpRwRv0d_un-FTtyyKAzZRkWFK3d8w_DWiDyVcTHUqE/s320/Marty+McFly.gif.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.rankopedia.com/Favorite-Back-to-the-Future-character/Step1/14077/.htm">image via</a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Marty McFly</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">And </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC3Taq8-d6eTamwjWoenVwzoF87TSauv5hrHtSodWuk6UdQqN8Ojr8PYQHBVbijouOjpnxcwGEitOl7OybuX10aM-BpiKJ50Fp_PW2JJE1L7Y5KiT6ha4oSqqO1MAZXen2_g9Q2Bzrgg8/s1600/tom-cruise-risky-business.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC3Taq8-d6eTamwjWoenVwzoF87TSauv5hrHtSodWuk6UdQqN8Ojr8PYQHBVbijouOjpnxcwGEitOl7OybuX10aM-BpiKJ50Fp_PW2JJE1L7Y5KiT6ha4oSqqO1MAZXen2_g9Q2Bzrgg8/s320/tom-cruise-risky-business.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.tomcruise.com/">image via</a> </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Tom Cruise.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I dressed like, wore my hair like and acted like 75% of my classmates. In reality, any one of us could have been the “poster child” for the small town middle class preppy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">If perception is reality…then, to that extent I knew who I was.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39dGbLAwag-i2cp9Xbw61SnvrwOju0LXktap9gpWE34FN_ksIA2y1881X5PDKJKKiPDr1aD2X98oucvXgfTIe-Dfk0NWRhVUT5OBrRl3gCnyO8VcuT4ECHDrLRW0slCMkI2vpJ2x9gthS/s1600/HS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39dGbLAwag-i2cp9Xbw61SnvrwOju0LXktap9gpWE34FN_ksIA2y1881X5PDKJKKiPDr1aD2X98oucvXgfTIe-Dfk0NWRhVUT5OBrRl3gCnyO8VcuT4ECHDrLRW0slCMkI2vpJ2x9gthS/s320/HS.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">When all was said and done, and graduation FINALLY rolled around, I had at least survived this battle with the struggle to appear smart, strong and popular. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">CONFORMITY had been my shield.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-72442191300235646482010-11-02T10:32:00.000-07:002010-11-03T11:06:26.428-07:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here – Part 3<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The dirt bike posse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In my pre-teen years, most of the boys in my neighborhood had dirt bikes. (Back in the day, we had neighborhoods, not housing developments.) I was sooo jealous. I wanted one sooo bad. My dad was a smart man, though – he knew what he was working with – he knew I’d kill myself on one.</span><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Insight insert</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">: At this time Evil <i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-style: normal;">Knievel was my hero. </span></i></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">I was already trying to imitate him by jumping my </span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">black and yellow banana-seat bicycle over trash cans.</span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGBMra3rVOtGXuRlBH7cJPVEbISPnSxqNhPic_enx-Tbl9x4S374Ht4hbTXpF8l1CMeklADA3pV98ASgdI9vbcYLLtYot69hIUDtjSy_i_DWg5xS04CSDiqqSq6Q5fqrKfq5TEpdqm9N8H/s1600/yellow+banana+seat+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGBMra3rVOtGXuRlBH7cJPVEbISPnSxqNhPic_enx-Tbl9x4S374Ht4hbTXpF8l1CMeklADA3pV98ASgdI9vbcYLLtYot69hIUDtjSy_i_DWg5xS04CSDiqqSq6Q5fqrKfq5TEpdqm9N8H/s320/yellow+banana+seat+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">So, I was forced to observe my “friends” rip and roar up and down the hills and trails of the large undeveloped area next to my neighborhood. (I’m pretty sure there’s a housing development there now.)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">One afternoon I heard the familiar sounds of the two-stroke engines in the distance. I quickly found my bike, adorned myself with my Baltimore Colts football helmet (thanks cousin Tom – and the Colts were from Baltimore back in the day) and took off for the field, peddling as hard and fast as my skinny little legs would take me.</span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUSylH8Axw_R96EFIbur6Xv4tkdgE_ESpAVUlaGwsrBN9zjWl-gbdET8pA3NvKR9YbI4VQ3p81Vb0un-g-1Py0HhKLT8_3i8NQ4wcZSNkj1me4xLzPB-oknM5In0EcGBstvdSqO4g-8tZ/s1600/baltimore+colts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUSylH8Axw_R96EFIbur6Xv4tkdgE_ESpAVUlaGwsrBN9zjWl-gbdET8pA3NvKR9YbI4VQ3p81Vb0un-g-1Py0HhKLT8_3i8NQ4wcZSNkj1me4xLzPB-oknM5In0EcGBstvdSqO4g-8tZ/s320/baltimore+colts.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">I showed up on the scene about the time several of the riders decided to take a break. They were sitting on their motorcycles talking as I peddled my two-wheeler into the midst of them to say “what’s up.” I’d like to be able to report that they welcomed me with open arms into their dirt bike posse – they did not. On the contrary…they laughed and made fun of me (imagine that). My banana-seat bike and Baltimore Colts helmet did not meet the standard of “cool” according to the posse.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">The embarrassment smarted.</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">Not being accepted stung.</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">As I tucked my tail between my legs and peddled for home, I was hurt and rejected. Little did I know then, that the seed of a false formula had been planted within me. I sought refuge in my tree house. It was there in the solitude of self that I vowed to never – as long as I could help it – be made fun of again. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">It was from this point that I began to rely on what other people thought of me to gauge my self-worth – a very unhealthy way to live. The manner in which I would act, perform and respond to life’s various situations, circumstances and people had now been perverted. The false formula had not only been planted, but was now alive and growing. It looked something like this (found in <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=6CvPZqnyzdAC&pg=PA15&lpg=PA15&dq=search+for+significance+equation&source=bl&ots=1gQj0YgJ2E&sig=j9xTjRFOSxun5mF6I-OzsgOxTTo&hl=en&ei=gQzPTL-2EYbGlQe2n7GxBw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=2&ved=0CBgQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&q&f=false" style="color: #444444;"><i>The Search for Significance</i></a>):</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">My performance</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">Plus the opinions of others</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">Equals my self-worth.</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 115%;">What a high order and very unrealistic goal…especially with Jr. and Sr. High on the horizon. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-42735106769222962802010-10-28T07:37:00.000-07:002010-11-03T07:17:47.606-07:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 2<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Naughty by nature.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">By the time I was four years old I had lost my two front teeth. That’s not natural. They didn’t come out on their own…like they’re supposed to. They had a little help – ME!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The wind was blowing and the snow was flying and building up outside. It was the first snow of the winter and first one I could recall as a child. I was thrilled and wanted to see it first hand, face-to-face, all nat-u-ral, not through some window.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WMbQgY9s4RRcDV7x-3UJc4yZrdKWRQK7YBIM4JUUb-nI0zrKSSObn9YqFwuwru60wLvzrzqwRQN2fqme39OlkojhhCylWDoDhCJIod5c6Xik7OrJQGaqCxHVsDlmE-zz4_V6ayovJzFU/s1600/blizzard-warning-east-coast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WMbQgY9s4RRcDV7x-3UJc4yZrdKWRQK7YBIM4JUUb-nI0zrKSSObn9YqFwuwru60wLvzrzqwRQN2fqme39OlkojhhCylWDoDhCJIod5c6Xik7OrJQGaqCxHVsDlmE-zz4_V6ayovJzFU/s320/blizzard-warning-east-coast.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.inquisitr.com/52991/east-coast-snow-storm/">image via</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As I made my way to the kitchen side door to peak out, the last words I heard my mother say were, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“DO NOT open that door.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t listen.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">About that time, just as I peeped my little head out, a gust of wind whipped around the side of the house and caught the door, like the wind catching a ships sail. As the door swung open with a SWOOSH, I forgot to let go of the handle and was instantly catapulted through the air, across the side porch, and mouth first into the cold, hard steel bumper of my parents car. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The bumper won.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My teeth lost.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was now front toothless.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I now bore the first mark of my rebellion.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">There would be many more to come.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4cJc106XKnUkscTz5sRj7VgBWCOrmf748-vkqKCuvXSaBnAQymUf-qCnp08VHT1x_ObjOiALnyVmqXfo2TB7ZfZXRi3YS3s4iDqfTtrXUqmfmZC8LbR8avcimsqZ836nyAwYsc2m9PfvZ/s1600/no+teeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4cJc106XKnUkscTz5sRj7VgBWCOrmf748-vkqKCuvXSaBnAQymUf-qCnp08VHT1x_ObjOiALnyVmqXfo2TB7ZfZXRi3YS3s4iDqfTtrXUqmfmZC8LbR8avcimsqZ836nyAwYsc2m9PfvZ/s320/no+teeth.jpg" width="304" /></a></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My grandmother used to say that one of the greatest wonders of God is that a husband and wife could have nine children (she did) and none of them turn out the same. One is self-disciplined, while the other is free-spirited. One can sing like a bird and the other can’t carry a tune if it had a handle. One that’s compliant and another that is straight “off the chain” rebellious. Such is the case of me and my only sister. We share the same mother and father – good ones at that – were raised in the same house, in the same manner with virtually the same rules…and we turned out completely different. Why she chose to honor and respect my parents –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Rules</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Accountability</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Discipline</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Structure</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">- and I did not, is a mystery…or is it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As a child, I loved to isolate. I can remember playing in the woods behind our house or in my tree-house (Thanks Dad!) for hours by myself. Though I was a good playmate to the other kids in “the hood”, I loved getting off by myself to make-believe and pretend – creating my own thrill-centered adventures, my own secret little world of excitement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t k now where it came from but I loved the secrecy of hiding things; the mere exhilaration of being sneaky. Especially if it were something that I wasn’t supposed to have or do (i.e. “dirty books” or tobacco). Oh how I embraced that challenge! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It all became a game to me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">An innocent game at first.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">But little did I know how very destructive it would become.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was developing a harmful system and pattern. A game system that would morph and re-invent itself – rearing its ugly head over and over again in my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The rebellious, naughty by nature boy would grow up…and soon discover pleasure to boot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-24781741574976333152010-10-25T06:40:00.000-07:002011-01-06T08:13:30.690-08:00From playmate to inmate…how I got here - Part 1<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Be careful what you pray for.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve heard it all my life – even quoted it myself. You may have used it too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“Be careful what you pray for.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh how real that statement became to me on September 4<sup>th</sup>, 2009. Lump and I (that’s my wife for those of you who didn’t get a chance to read my first post) set out late that afternoon for Tennessee. The occasion? My parent’s wedding anniversary – their 50<sup>th</sup> wedding anniversary. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZD00QuDyt-jpsajSoE4-aDKilffYVQ_YNdGoNWznVh8tAlAwV8-I4T26fOnEORrwAtn7FTdxeo8rmb6gK0AX8SKyo3BMmJOOatYxwGju9Oxb0VXBEVSPBAzp6ITJh_Ozs6EWIqf39XCb/s1600/part+1+blog+meme+and+papa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZD00QuDyt-jpsajSoE4-aDKilffYVQ_YNdGoNWznVh8tAlAwV8-I4T26fOnEORrwAtn7FTdxeo8rmb6gK0AX8SKyo3BMmJOOatYxwGju9Oxb0VXBEVSPBAzp6ITJh_Ozs6EWIqf39XCb/s320/part+1+blog+meme+and+papa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> The weekend was supposed to be one of celebration and relaxation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">For me and Lump, it would be neither.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">About the time we rolled into the outskirts of the “Myrtle Beach moved west”, miniature golf and go-cart saturated, lights and traffic of the Smokey Mts. tourist city, Gatlinburg…Lump’s cell phone rang. In normal fashion she answered the call. By the look on her face it didn’t take me long to determine…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This call was not good.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The side door of our house had been kicked in.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The police were there – they had done the kicking.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">They were executing a search warrant.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My first response was “WHAT?!” But Lump’s was “WHY?!” I didn’t have to ask why… I already knew…and I certainly had a lot of explaining to do. Needless to say, the trip was shot!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Approximately six months prior to that – I’m not exact on the date, although I certainly remember the conversation – I was driving into work, sick and shaky. Sick and shaky because the handful of prescription pain pills that I had taken about 30 minutes earlier to relieve the dope sick feeling I experienced nearly every A.M. had not yet kicked in. I was overwhelmed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So TIRED.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So DEFEATED.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So SPENT.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So DONE.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So done with allowing a chemical to control my every move. It went further than that though – I was tired of THE LIE and the lies that accompany and hold up THE LIE. The truth was…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was not alright!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I was not okay!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Everything wasn’t good!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">How could I be? I was juggling two lives – one that looked like all was well, productive and “Christian” – and another that was controlled by a physical dependency on a chemical that screamed and YELLED “Feed me and I mean NOW!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Believe you me, I had been tired of feeding the monster of addiction for a long time; the pain pills hadn’t “worked” for quite a while now. I had, once again, reached that point – the point of being sick and tired of being sick and tired. Tired, beaten and battered… I pressed on. My PRIDE held me. I was stuck! At least I felt stuck. I couldn’t fall! I had too many people counting on me. I couldn’t admit that I had, once again, allowed myself to become physically, emotionally, and mentally dependent on pain pills. My spiritual life was in the gutter. What would people think? What would people say? THE LIE and the sustaining of THE LIE were literally killing me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s when I prayed it.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s when - with frustration at a boiling point, stress in my voice and tears in my eyes – I pounded my hands on the steering wheel of my truck and screamed out,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">“God, I wish I could just get brutally honest!!!”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew what I meant. Moreover, God knew what I meant and knew what I needed. However, like His timing usually works – never when we imagine it should – the answer didn’t’ come until some six months later. Specifically, September 4<sup>th</sup>, 2009. But when it came, it came…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Hard.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Swift.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">My cry to God to be able to get brutally honest was about to be answered, and my greatest fear was about to be realized. I was about to be EXPOSED.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7413401421224789561.post-72085010702515242372010-10-21T07:53:00.000-07:002010-10-21T07:53:50.124-07:00Another blog…really?<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">If you know me, then you know I don’t do the social network scene. Well…that’s not entirely true. On occasion, I have been known to highjack my wife’s Facebook account and snoop around a bit, but for the most part I don’t Facebook, tweet or chat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So, why blog now? Why another blog? Well, I’ll get to that in just a bit.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">But first a little (or not so little) disclaimer: In my opinion when it comes to communicating, I have to say, I’m a much better speaker than writer. Put me in front of a group of people – whether large or small – give me a few bullet point notes, and I’m good to go. Why? Probably because I don’t’ have the option to edit (you’ll see what I mean <s>in a bit </s>if you follow this blog – see!). But write, OH!, that’s a completely different animal. I’m not sure, but it could have something to do with a severe case of undiagnosed ADHD that I live with…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">(the reality is there’s not enough letters in the alphabet to label my jacked-up-ness)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…or it could be the underlying fact (pause) – see, I just got distracted by a bird outside…I’m back now – that I’m somewhat, at times, self-conscious as well as borderline indecisive by nature (I come by that honestly). Like a tangled knot of yarn that a cat got a hold of, all these idiosyncrasies together look something like this when I try to write the simplest narrative:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Write quick so I don’t forget what I’m thinking… </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">STOP, reread…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Go back, insert some thought I lost because I got distracted by a bird or something outside…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">STOP, reread, rewrite… because I’m not sure what I wrote is what I really wanted to say…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">STOP, reread, rewrite… because I’m afraid what I’ve written will make me sound like a complete idiot…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">STOP, reread, rewrite…and on and on and on (notice a downward spiral?)</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH9EXy85Bb3Fa1ii0lEUxqzvJs_Ez1VzsIZ4NM-ysIfVrqnO_LKtz-e84RS6-8qNkhHMuHLv89tfNArpkxnTGdBCWeWl0Pc3pmathwtlvyKO28AsGPaXNEJe8cPTTlwg6mePSEkIfWcvv/s1600/another+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH9EXy85Bb3Fa1ii0lEUxqzvJs_Ez1VzsIZ4NM-ysIfVrqnO_LKtz-e84RS6-8qNkhHMuHLv89tfNArpkxnTGdBCWeWl0Pc3pmathwtlvyKO28AsGPaXNEJe8cPTTlwg6mePSEkIfWcvv/s320/another+blog.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">This disheveled yarn ball approach drives my wife, Lump, NUTS! (That’s not actually her real name, but that’s what I call her – which in itself, is a story for another day.) And to be honest with you, it drives me crazy too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing hurts.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So why do it?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Why now?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Why after all these years outside the social network do I break the proverbial silence, dust off my tangled mess and jacked up writing skills to start a blog? What do I have to say that’s not already been said? And why the name “…from the inside…”?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Because that’s where I am.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNmSyKroqZqd8T1xYbTjCGOiIPwkLIqu0m82GgqV60YGO0gxs87piB96pVi8pNXFFRu8i9WVqhMLRbX_Eiy2d_ylqokArFr-06qstm3CZZjjRPr_NVC_IZl_D015rgEEV2opzTR-Wttfj/s1600/moneta+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNmSyKroqZqd8T1xYbTjCGOiIPwkLIqu0m82GgqV60YGO0gxs87piB96pVi8pNXFFRu8i9WVqhMLRbX_Eiy2d_ylqokArFr-06qstm3CZZjjRPr_NVC_IZl_D015rgEEV2opzTR-Wttfj/s320/moneta+blog.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">In jail. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Locked up.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Put away.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">As of today, I have been incarcerated in an adult detention center for six months of an 18 month sentence. But still yet, why now; why write; why blog? Honestly…I DON’T KNOW…all I can say is that this is what I feel we (Lump and I) should do right now (God knows I have the time</span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Those of you that know Lump and me, know what we are going through. You also know how God has and is working in our lives. This is not the ideal setting for a marriage, but in the midst of something that appears so wrong or bad, God is so GOOD and has been working in, out and through our lives –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Lump on “the outside.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Me on “the inside.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">But ultimately God has been changing us both on the INSIDE.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">So this is what we have to offer. Join us if you’d like. We’d love for you to. The journey can be quite exciting, and “a trip” to boot. For those of you who have not been in jail, which is probably a pretty high percentage of you, the atmosphere, happenings and people can be quite a little piece of fiction at times. But it’s amazing how God takes them and teaches some of the most foundational principles of Who He is...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Bodoni MT Condensed","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">…from the inside…ray-ray</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div>...fromtheinside...http://www.blogger.com/profile/17711283872096595307noreply@blogger.com6