I write. It's what I do. Sometimes what I write is worth reading. Sometimes the greatest hope I have is found on the next blank page. Because on that page is one more chance to get it, well, right.
But over the last several years, there has been an underlying sense in my soul that I'm missing it. I've written I don't know how many words, sentences, paragraphs, pages. Yet, through them all, I have yet to find the perfect combination of vowels and consonants and punctuation marks that will somehow, someway fully define my life.
It all pays out so well in my mind; so poetic.
I'm sitting in a cabin overlooking a pond or a lake. Maybe I'm on the porch. Maybe I'm at a desk next to the fireplace. Either way, I'm definitely in the mountains. It’s all very Walden Pond.
Yet, unlike Thoreau, I'm not writing. Not yet. I'm just sitting there thinking, waiting for that perfect phrase to come to mind. As I wait, memories flood my mind. Relationships, experiences, prayers, successes, failures. But in my mind, I don’t actually write anything. Because all the while I’m still searching.
Maybe in my mind I never actually get that phrase or sentence written down because that’s not what it’s all about. Maybe it’s about discovering those things that God has placed deep in my soul. And slowly, through the ups and down of life, the victories and struggles, the mountaintop adventures and the valleys of defeat, I’m discovering more and more of who I was made to be. And it’s only through discovering that I can begin defining.
Maybe in all the searching, the key is not to miss one thing in hopes of discovering another. Maybe it’s not so much about finding that perfect combination of words as much as it is experiencing the journey, the struggle, the excitement of learning new ones.
10/29/09
10/14/09
Facebook Brought My Friend Back to Life
I'd asked her if she knew what ever happened to Trey. I had lost touch with him and couldn't seem to find him, though I'd tried several times throughout the years.
"Oh, you hadn't heard? I hate to be the one to tell you, but Trey died in a car accident just after high school. I'm sorry no one called you."
It was one of those moments in life when time stopped.
Trey had been one of my childhood friends. Probably my best. I hadn't talked to him since I was 12 or 13, but nearly every memory I have as a child includes Trey.
I left the restaurant that day in a daze, walked blankly into our apartment and cried on Carissa's shoulder, probably for hours. For the next several days, I went through the process of mourning the loss of a close friend.
All the typical feelings came flooding in. Guilt for having lost touch. Anger for having been moved out of my hometown. Sorrow for not ever having the chance to talk with him again.
Over the next 10 years, Trey became a memory. I thought about him all the time. I talked about him with my wife. I remembered him every time I watched A&M play football. (We were going to be roommates and study law together, neither of which ever happened.) I laughed, often to myself, as I became a father and thought of all the stupid things we had done as kids that I'm sure my sons will do.
I would search occassionally for him, going as far as looking for his name online in obituaries from the mid-90s. And I had every intention of calling his parents. But after so many years, what would I possibly say?
Ultimately, I came to accept the fact that he was gone.
Then, I got an email on Facebook. And time stopped again.
Trey was (is) alive! A mix up in names was all it comes down to.
And this past weekend, I had the opportunity to see my friend who isn't dead. We spend about 5 hours catching up. I went to his parents' house and ate lunch with him in my old hometown. It was the most surreal experience of my life. I can't begin to explain the emotions of thinking a friend is dead, only to find out they are alive.
Now, I know Facebook didn't really bring Trey back to life. God has been watching over him ever since the last time Trey and I talked (and every moment before, too). And who knows? God may have thought it was funny that I thought Trey was dead, because He certainly knew we'd get back in touch.
God works in mysterious ways. Cliche? Maybe. True? Definitely. But all I can say is that I am thankful to have my friend back. Thankful mostly to God. And yes, a little thankful to Facebook too.
"Oh, you hadn't heard? I hate to be the one to tell you, but Trey died in a car accident just after high school. I'm sorry no one called you."
It was one of those moments in life when time stopped.
Trey had been one of my childhood friends. Probably my best. I hadn't talked to him since I was 12 or 13, but nearly every memory I have as a child includes Trey.
I left the restaurant that day in a daze, walked blankly into our apartment and cried on Carissa's shoulder, probably for hours. For the next several days, I went through the process of mourning the loss of a close friend.
All the typical feelings came flooding in. Guilt for having lost touch. Anger for having been moved out of my hometown. Sorrow for not ever having the chance to talk with him again.
Over the next 10 years, Trey became a memory. I thought about him all the time. I talked about him with my wife. I remembered him every time I watched A&M play football. (We were going to be roommates and study law together, neither of which ever happened.) I laughed, often to myself, as I became a father and thought of all the stupid things we had done as kids that I'm sure my sons will do.
I would search occassionally for him, going as far as looking for his name online in obituaries from the mid-90s. And I had every intention of calling his parents. But after so many years, what would I possibly say?
Ultimately, I came to accept the fact that he was gone.
Then, I got an email on Facebook. And time stopped again.
Trey was (is) alive! A mix up in names was all it comes down to.
And this past weekend, I had the opportunity to see my friend who isn't dead. We spend about 5 hours catching up. I went to his parents' house and ate lunch with him in my old hometown. It was the most surreal experience of my life. I can't begin to explain the emotions of thinking a friend is dead, only to find out they are alive.
Now, I know Facebook didn't really bring Trey back to life. God has been watching over him ever since the last time Trey and I talked (and every moment before, too). And who knows? God may have thought it was funny that I thought Trey was dead, because He certainly knew we'd get back in touch.
God works in mysterious ways. Cliche? Maybe. True? Definitely. But all I can say is that I am thankful to have my friend back. Thankful mostly to God. And yes, a little thankful to Facebook too.
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