The Soul of One Man

It is Coming Back

2011-09-30T10:06:00.000-07:00

Holy crap, I haven't sat down to write for awhile. Guess that is what happens when you sit on your pity pot crying like a little bitch.. Well, I am done. I am off the pot, that primal guttural roar is building. Hope is starting to brighten the day and life is beginning to flow thru my veins again.

You ask what is this song? It is one of those pounding, thrashing songs that gets in your head and takes you off the pity pot. It takes you to a place where there is no fear and you long to sit your happy ass down on a screaming crotch rocket. Snitch your helmet tight, turn your headphones on full blast and just go haul ass.. Look at it this way.. It is about 8:00 in the morning. You come out of a mellow canyon. You have two choices if you turn left you are in Westlake Village. Surrounded by a humanity of plastic people that just live for the world and the debauchery of excess.

Your other option is to turn right. Before you is Decker Canyon. A twisting road that is dangerous and unforgiving to those that show her no respect.. You turn right.. (good choice by the way) in a second you are up to sixty miles an hour. You fly through the low lands of the canyon when the mountain pops out in front of you. You lean left accelerating, suggestions for speed limits race by your eyes as stupid little pieces of yellow.. You come around the right and the twist get as tight as a virgin on prom night. You down shift riding out the wheel hop as your legs squeeze into the bike, releasing the clutch to bring your front tire into the air as you corner.. You smile as the music pounds away. You and your bike are dancing through the curves. You come to a stop sign. Another choice. Go straight and ride the canyon through. Go left to Mulholland or Go right to finish off Mulholland.. The long straight away to the right calls out to you. You twist the throttle and go up through the gears until you see 140 mph looking back at you as you begin to descend. Boulder liter the road but you just continue the dance. Seduced by speed and the edge of life. It is here where one mistake pretty much costs your life.. At over 120 mph you take your hand off the grip and hit the replay button on your MP3 player... The drums and bass roar at you. Baiting you to push the edge further. Your tires scream as you slide the back end into another hard left hand corner..The tire leaving it marks on the asphalt. You know the end of the road is coming as you see the pacific ocean out of the corner of your eye. You push yourself, your bike , and your life one last time. Cars go flyin by within inches as you take road as your own..

You get to the bottum of the canyon. The song fades and before you is Leo Carrillo beach. You hear the waves crashing. You back up a few feet, drop your kickstand. Then take your helmet off. You light a smoke and stare into the surf. Then when you are done. You go do it all over again..

Can you feel that from the song?? Do you see the image in your mind? Does a little bit of fear swell up deep inside? If so all is well.. If not get the hell off your pity pot. It isn't about you.. It is about how you serve others.

How to deal

2010-10-03T18:56:00.000-07:00

As must people that know myself and my family. Know the past year and half has been quite an adventure with some good times and some not so great. That is what life is. You get your ups and you get your downs. It is how you deal with either that are what your kids, your friends, your family see more than the initial good or bad.

Take just July to now. We have moved out of our nice home in an attempt to go work where I thought I was called to do my counseling, geekness, and a few other things. That door opened wide enough to make me think it was a all going to be sunshine and bunnies. Two weeks later all doors slammed tighter than a virgins legs at the debutant ball. Hindsight is always 20/20. Desperation created the picture. I had not walked into an office in so long I thought I wasn't working. For the most part I wasn't. I was having a blast waking up everyday and sitting here drafting short stories. Then books. Then actually putting them into the publishing process. Even though I slaughter the laws of grammar. Writing is story telling on paper. If you the reader are feeling my words. Your mind is wired to see past the slaughtervest, the made up words, your mind puts you in the middle of the words and you paint the picture from what you read. At least that is what writing should be. When it is fiction or mystery. Some people can see themselves sitting up to the bar at the Alamo, pulling back on their beer listening to the story. Here is an injection of reality. Our family ate every day. They bathed everyday. Clothes covered their backs. All because my wife busted her ass and we have friends that love us and give when the chips are down. Most of all we have the Lord looking down on us; loving us all, as we try to stay in tune with his word and the world to come in his kingdom. NOT THE WORLD outside our door.

I got butt hurt by the screwing one of my closest friends received from church. Folks, I am kinda like a really pissed off pit bull when those closest to me are wronged unjustly. I bit into the pill of bitterness towards church. Climbed up on my cross and took my family on the ride that church as a whole is BAD!! Not religion folks. Church!! We came back from Vegas right into the garage of my mother in law. I could have taken the defeat from the "church" experience in Vegas and just become more bitter and resentful. Well funny thing happened on my way to the looney bin. In the midst of all the heartache, the utter insanity of alcoholism and stupidity .. I woke up. Men if you are a husband or a father there are some very specific rules to play by. Instead of playing by them I tried to make up my own. Instead of reading the word of God for insite and guidance on this road of manhood. I spent days trying to make scripture fit my mood. Thinking I could make God do things the way I wanted... (Okay stop laughing)

This afternoon we went to my buddy Jose's parents. It seemed the whole family was there. From his brothers and sisters to his parents siblings. After shooting some pool he left to go get some sleep before going back on another graveyard shift. We stayed behind and we were all treated like family. I talked with his mother. Then spent quite a bit of time talking with his father. It is not my place to say all that is being faced. Just know their family is facing a trial and challenge. If you are into prayer keep them in yours. Please. As family members were leaving I believe I saw something I have never seen happen outside of a Hallmark channel special. Kids hugged Pappa Jose and love just flowed. It was family at its finest. It was downright inspiring folks.

Driving home my wife and talked about the insanity that faces us each time we come into the compound here. All the while I felt the spirit rising up within me. Something I thought was gone sat on my shoulder and told me "I still love you. You still know how to love." This voice topped off a day where I learned a new word when actually sitting inside a church. Oh yeah, I go to church again. Mainly because my family and I are part of church as Christians. Yep it is that simple. If you claim the relationship you are in the fold. No matter how bitter or butt hurt.

I want to leave you with the word that I learned. "IMPRECATORY" For examples of Imprecatory verses look in the book of Psalms. Like Psalms 7,35,40,55,144. These are verses where David is asking God to rain down a can whoop ass on those that want to kill him or the people of Isreal. They are dramatically worded no matter what version of the bible you read. Cut and paste the word and go look it up in Websters 1812 dictionary. When you have the definition go back and read what I suggested. Take your circumstances when you rage. Ask yourself. When you are done raging are you ready to back up and let God do what He is going to?

Imprecatory, I like the way it rolls out my mouth when I say it. I love the definition. Most of all I count it a great joy to walk on the edge of all hell breaking loose in the compound that surrounds us. I am rich beyond what I could ever imagine. For I have been given some wisdom. I have been blessed with kids that just want to be kids. A wife that loves me when I just sit and write words on a screen or jump from planes, or just simply make her smile by loving her the best way I know how. Being imprecatory may not be the correct use of the word in the sentence. Hey here is the other blessing. I have friends that do know how to use it correctly and when they read this, I am sure they will let me know.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Hmm

2010-09-02T14:46:00.001-07:00

I thought I had this really cool article to write. Guess that train left the building. My mind is shot and the fire in my heart is gone. That is time for silence and introspection in my book.

What would the title be? Finding who and what you are not?

2010-07-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

"Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ,who gives me strength."Philippians 4:10-13.

My family and I as most of you know have had a 16 month run that has completely tested us. We lost our home, We have gone the whole time without me working. Further taking us into debt each hour. We are on a first name basis with Repossession Men and women!! We have nice conversations with just about everyone that is looking to be paid. Most of all we have done the stupidest thing possible. We walked away from "Church" for we saw first hand what it had done to our closest family friend. For the past six weeks we have seen and felt a pulling on our hearts. The kids maybe not as much but my wife and I sure have.

This morning we listened to sermon. The verse above was a key part to it. I have Phil 4:13 as part of my next and last tattoo. This morning I realized I was using the scripture for all the wrong meanings. More as a battle cry before I went out and did things my way. Looking back at God and telling him "Follow me!!!" (Okay don't laugh so hard..) Look at what the versus prior have to say. Think about them. I have been since reading and hearing them again. It is a great piece of humble pie!!! We have spent 16 months worrying at what we didn't have. Or how to keep what we do. That is 16 months wasted in fighting, arguing, and then trying to love through it. In actuality it has been 16 months were we learned a valuable lesson. At least I know I have learned one.

What is the lesson? I am still trying to wade my way through it. I do know that my focus has been so worldly that I am no different in strength than when this all started. I do know God has held us through the whole ordeal of time. I was just too damn stubborn to look at him from front for guidance. I have burned bridges. I do know the bridge between Him and those that believe never burns. He waits for us to finally hear the word breathed into us.

Folks, I guess, I am not all that and a bag of chips!! I am just a man with a great wife, great kids. A heart full of hope for what the future may bring. That has realized what was truly missing. It wasn't money or crap loads of "stuff." I was missing the fact that the reason "I can do all things through him that gives me strength." Is not because of my tenacity or perseverance, it is because He loves, where I give up.

I guess that is how He show us who we really are. By showing us exactly what we are not!!

S/F
Smokin Chaplain..

Making Sense isn't making sense

2010-05-27T09:10:00.000-07:00

I should be finishing up writing my 3rd book right now, instead I am trying to make sense of things that just seem so beyond me. I drove my wife to work this morning like we always do. We have been dealing with a lot on our plates lately in terms of financial stresses, unemployment, and un-enjoyment of current employment on her part.

This morning as we drove we both realized that even though we are living where we grew up. Where blood family is closest, we are living on island of ourselves again. I realized my wife is completely out of balance in all facets of life, the biggest one is her walk with the Lord. She has said it is "laziness" on her part at times. This morning we both realized it isn't laziness in either of us. It is simply a disconnection from the people that have influenced who we are. The guides that didn't really care where we came from, the cared more about who we are now, and what we will become. Tears rolled down her face the whole ride. This isn't a situation where blame or fault is placed on anyone. It is just trying to making sense of the predicament we are in.

As I try to go over a solution I find I am bowing my head and wanting my bride and best friend to have her balance back. As long as she is out of balance so am I. That filters down to our kids. Then one night you are sitting at the dinner table wondering what the hell happened? Balance and rhythm of the heart are the cornerstones to having and keeping the faith. It allows us to fight the good fight. It lets Love walk in and cast a smile on that the whole world can see.

In cars and bikes you have your tires balanced if you don't shit starts going sideways in a hurry. I am sitting here trying to make sense of we blood family will only see us for what we were in our youth, and not who we are now. I am trying to make sense of why in over a year I have had a total of three interviews. Yet, in the time span of less than three months I have been able to sit at a computer and write books. Three books so far. My big buddy asked how I can just sit and write, then stop and go back to pick up where I stopped? I don't have that answer. I just sit and the stories unfold. I look at my wife and how she is dying to have her dream come true of finishing higher education knowing with each day I don't bring in a check is another month that dream is placed on hold.

I am trying to make sense of what needs to be done to bring balance and rhythm back to our household. Making sense just isn't making sense. That is why God is God and I am not.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

A day at Church

2010-05-02T13:28:00.000-07:00

Take yourself to a small canyon store, you pull up to see over 100 bikes parked, from the low and slow to the rice rockets, to the Italian machines designed for nothing more than speed. The sun is warm on your mesh jacket as you dismount your British made Triumph Daytona 675. You pull off your Arai helmet as you walk up to view the bikes on display. Heads turn as they are looking at what you rolled up on. It isn't a common bike in this canyon. You know this fact but you just take out a Marlboro Red 100 and light it up. Exhaling the first drag of that wonderful elixir of nicotine and cancer. More bikes pull up a few Hyabosa's are in the group they park next to your mistress and each give it the once over, making their smart ass comments about it's color and that it is slow. You just shack your head listening to the vibrato and banter of the "Fast Boys."

You are there for the camaraderie and to run a canyon you haven't run in years. The comments roll off your back like water off a ducks ass. You find a rock and sit down your music playing at a lower volume as you just take in the surroundings. The low and slows talking about how they will ride the day away cruising through the canyons, as they make their trek to Neptunes Net for some beer and a chance to see the women in Bikini's begging to be their seat covers.. You chuckle to yourself when you hear them talk. A bunch of yuppies that are on their expensive bikes not one of them is less a dickydoo.. A dickydoo you ask?? That is when your belly hangs down farther than your dicky do. You exhale another drag from your cigarette letting the smoke recycle through your nostrils.

You repeat the cycle a few more times as the Aprilla's and Ducati's fire up for their "challenge ride" the rice burners look on commenting on how their bikes will "whoop ass" on the Italians. You chuckle again at how the youthful think they are immortal. That they can ride faster and meaner than the guys suited up in $3000.00 Alpine Star racing leathers on bikes that cost $30,000.00 each. The Italian boys pay no attention to the rhetoric being slung at them. You look down and your smoke is about done, you take two more quick drags and extinguish it beneath your foot. You sit and watch the people some more, observing those that are meek, and those that have never felt asphalt or concrete under their skin as they slid across it at over 100 mph. Posers trying to bad at the "Rock Star"

In a deafening chorus the Italian bikes take off to the south the canyon ahead to be tamed. Your pulse and heart rate start to quicken as you hear them roar through the canyon. It is time for you to make your way through the same canyon. You pick up your helmet and begin to walk to your bike. The Rice Rocketeers begin to stare you down as you walk through their little limp dick circle jerk of trash talk. The leader of group stands to block your way you just walk through him. It is Sunday, the Lord's day to rest so fighting isn't what you are there for. You are there for your church without walls. Without stained glass confinement with a bunch of plastic people that have about as much depth to them as the surface of a nice white head zit. The leader is a little pissy that you walked through him, he follows you to your bike. Ready for a fight, until he looks at the ass end of your bike and sees the Marine Corp emblem. You turn and ask "Is your bike as fast your mouth?" He stands there for a few moments looking in your eyes and back at your bike.

He looks over his shoulder and sees about fifteen low and slows wearing the EGA patch on their vests. You goat the little gonad again if he can ride his GSXR 1000 as fast as he move his lips. His buddies are looking at him waiting for a response. The dude just sits there moving his shinny boot in the dirt. You mount your bike, get your gloves on, take your glasses off to put your helmet on your head. While you wait for his answer. It has been awhile since you actually "raced" another person through any canyon.

He finally decides that he has a set of balls when he sees the 675 on your bike. "You seriously think that little motor will beat my bike, I have custom exhaust, custom rims, custom crank and cams." You look over at his shiny little bike and back at him as he stands in his jeans, cheap gloves, and his pretty little "Bionic Vest." You look the kid in the eye shrug your shoulders. "Wow, I don't know, that is some pretty cool shit you got there, shut your mouth, put your helmet on and take me to school then." you comment. You see him becoming physically agitated at your comments. He looks and points his finger at you. "Your ass is mine, we race from here to Kanan road!! The distance is about five miles of twisting canyon road. It is a short ride you know it and are feeling like an asshole. "How about we race to Kanan then from Mulholland to Decker back onto Mulholland to PCH. Make things interesting so to say?" He sends a couple of his boys to Kanan. They ride off on their "custom" rockets. By now the low and slows baring the Marine Corps Emblem on their back have come over to listen the slightly louder than normal conversation. One looks at you and then your bike. He winks knowing you have more than the other guy ever will. You got heart and you don't lose unless you lay the bike down.

A few minutes later his phone chirps that they guys are ready. He points at you and the old guys. "This is my canyon Bitch, you need to learn respect." Your fellow Marines start laughing out loud at the punks comment. They laugh harder as you blow the kid a kiss wishing him luck. He gets on his bike and fires the beast up. It sounds all kinds of special. The exhaust gives off a harmonic balance that makes it sound "sweet" like school girls playing at recess. He revs the bike to the point he hits the rev limiter a couple of times. Dust moves in the lot from his antics. Two Marines walk up to you both old enough to be your dad. "Wipe his ass, the old school way!!" Little boy brings his bike into the middle of the road getting the rest of his crew riled up with his burn outs and over acceleration of the bike. You put your helmet on looking down to see your in your Alpine Star jacket and a pair of thin fabric Fatigue pants, complimented by a nice pair of Danner combat boots. Not exactly knee dragging clothes, but you know by the third turn the douche will be looking at your ass as you ride away from him.

You start your bike and let the stock exhaust breath a little as you give a simple rev or two before putting into gear and riding it up to the kid. His seat cover goes and stands in the middle of the road with a doo rag in hand. The guy looks over at you as you sit calm and cool at the line. Feet planted clutch and motor revved for a standing box start. He does another burn out to get his buddies louder. You just hold your line and stay poised waiting for the drop of the rag. The last chorus of "Cry Tough" is at full volume in your ear buds you close your eyes and say your simple prayer.."Lord, don't me screw this up." As the douche to your left let's off the gas and raises his hands his seat cover does the unthinkable.

She drops the rag when he isn't looking you grab the throttle and twist your wrist as you release the clutch you are off and going up the the gears while the guy plays catch up, the road is yours for now as you come into the first right hander, you take the corner smooth, the music changes to "Burnin it to the ground" and you just hit your zone, accelerating through each corner as you lean your bitch into feeling the Bridgestone battleax rear tire slide through the corners on an 1/8 inch strip of rubber, you look in your mirror and douche boy is closing as you begin to ascend the canyon he comes in close to your left side looking at you at not the road, 100 yards to the sweeping off camper left turn, you twist the throttle a little more and dive down on him as the corner approaches he speeds up to take the inside line from you but he brakes too soon. You slide in next too him within maybe two inches to spare between you and you just lean and gas through the corner he spooks and high ends the corner almost going off the road, you can give two shits the music is blarrinng and your a kid again as you ride your mistress like it was a love making session. You drop down into the right hander douche boy no where to be seen in your mirrors, it is just you versus the canyon at this point. You slam down to second gear sliding your ass end into the corner, the whole weight of your body is on a fake elbow. You twist the throttle again and come up through the gears only to down shift again for a left corner you hang your ass and elbow over as you suck into the corner, seeing a truck coming down on you in your lane, you hold your line as you twist the power band heading straight for the truck. He moves to his lane as you feel the turbulence rock your helmet and chest.

The road mellows out and you just ride as your song is about to end you can see the douche holio's buddies sitting at the stop sign. You slide to a stop. Look left then right and cross Kanan road the canyon is your church this morning, you ride with speed and agility. Well as much agility as a forty year old can muster. Your focus stays always ahead of you as you play. You look back and see the head light of the guy some three hundred yards behind you as you start to drop down the canyon taking a wicked right hander you slide up to mount the tank of the bike forcing your weight to the front end tapping the front brake you have hit the apex you look through the corner and see a tight left coming you shift your weight to that side of the bike hanging it all out. Again you are through the corner the distance you have on the douche is getting bigger. You climb the hill taking your time to give the kid a chance as you are about to cross onto Decker canyon. The boy is timid in every corner as his ass end slides as he tries to power his way through the corners. Each time he has to brake and go "upright" fluidity is just not there for him. You reach the stop sign and turn left onto Decker and you peg the throttle!! You and your bike dance through the corners singing to the music in your ears. You come down to the stop sign that will take you to the last leg of Mulholland. You wait. Literally 42 seconds for the guy to catch up. He blows the stop sign and veers into the oncoming lane winding his bike to 14000 rpm.

You turn and hit the straight going up through the gears like mad as you look to see 184 mph on your digital display, you are closing on the kid as you come up to the descent of the road you twist the throttle and suck into the bike hitting 196 mph as you come up on his back tire you pull to the outside as you lift your body to air brake as you downshift. You hold the clutch in as he tries to take your line, again he brakes like an idiot you release the clutch and goose your bitch to his inside carrying him wide into the corner his view is a cliff and guard rail. He uses too much back brake and smokes his already worn tire as you haul ass past him.

You run the canyon like you have time and time before. Braking then accelerating, leaning, pushing, sliding, and laughing out loud. The boy hasn't even made it to the bottom as you hit the long left hander and just power through the corner, feeling at one with all around you. You haul ass through the residential straight away seeing you have hit that coveted top speed of the day of 200 mph. Smiling you down shift as you listen to Sammy Hagar sing about "Where Eagles Fly." As you come out to the back side of Leo Carrilo's campground your ears are pounding with the Vocals of "Something in Your Mouth" you slow to the suggested speed limit as you come to the stop sign at PCH. Lining the side of the road are your 15 buddies slapping their legs and laughing and pointing at the crew of the douche on the other side. As you pass his buddies you stand and slap your ass a few times giving them a little wiggle of the good as well. At the stop sign you back into line with the low and slow Marine Corps Men. Taking off your helmet to let the ocean air touch the sweat that is dripping down your body. You pull out one more smoke and light it. Not saying a word to the "fast boys" that line the other side of the street. one minute and eighteen seconds later everyone hears the "custom Racing GSXR coming through the top of the canyon. He finally stops at the line having been beat by two minutes.

He parks his bike and gets all pissy about how you pushed him to far to the edge and could have made him die. He rants on and on. You walk over to his bike and look at the wasted rear tire where the cords are showing from his burn out stunts. He grabs your shoulder you lean forward and he falls onto his bike sliding off of it. His face looking at the tire. You politely walk around the bike and place your hand on his chest and point to the rear tire. "That is what will kill you." you comment as the smoke trickles out your mouth. He looks at the wasted tire as it deflates. You walk back to your bike and look at the shoes. The tires are hot and sticky still but the wear is perfect. You point it out to the kid. His demeanor changes from an agitated douche to some one that has been schooled and knows it. One of the low and slows walks up and places his huge hand on the kids shoulders. "The angrier you got the slower you moved. You win by knowing what to do when. You finish your smoke and light another as you wait with the kid for the tow truck to come pick his ass up and his "custom race bike."

When all is said and done you ride north on PCH watching the waves crash to your left as the houses get bigger to the right. Then you cross the county line and it is the mountains to the right and ocean to left. Music playing a little softer as you just cruise your way home. As you turn on to Los Posas road you let your bike breath deep one more time as you come up through the gears. Gently letting her come down from the roar as you turn right to head up the backside of Potero road. At Hotel California a Honda Civic pulls out and races ahead of you. You just let the kid go. As you come over the hill into the flat lands he is pulled over with an over heated engine. You laugh at the j-hole as he scratches his head trying to figure out what to do. The irony of it all is as you pass you are listening to the song "The Next Contestant."

You just smile as you listen through the ride up the canyon. You hit home exhausted but alive inside. You even take the time to tell your story for some friends to read.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

What do you look for as a parent

2010-04-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

For the past few days I have watched my oldest daughter battle an ifected gall bladder to the point she had to have emergency surgery to have it removed. The one constant in all of it was her inner strength. Her pain levels may have been off the charts, she was facing a surgery she knew nothing about. Yet, when I would look in her soft brown eyes there was no fear. None!!

As parents we try to instill into our kids values, morals, and their own independance. At times we don't want to let go, but as parents we are here to watch them grow. The thing i look for most in my kids is an inner strength. The type where they can walk into a pool of dung, but come out the other side smelling like a rose. Not because their mother or I saved them. No, they come out stronger because they faced the issue themselfs, tackled it with intelligence and strength, with a heaping dose of faith.

My daughters both have the inner strength. The oldest I see it in her eyes when dacing the unknown. My youngest I see in her stubbornness to get past things. In my son it is in the way he just lives for adventure and is never satisfied just sitting on his ass. Plus they all show it in how they rallyed around their older sister as she went to surgery and after.

I observe life and people on a daily basis, rarely do I ever look at what is right in my home. That is my character flaw. One I am working to change. As I sat for hours waiting for surgery to end yesterday I watched my oldest daughter grow up all over again, from the moment she was born and I held her in my arms, thru her toddler years, to when she first went to school, all the way up until yesterday morning. The trip was enlightening. Actually it was pretty amazing. When I was 15 like her I was pretty much hell on wheels and didn't stop the road show until I was almost 30. My daughter is far smarter, far more poised, and has far more inner strength than I did at that age. It has changed my focus on what matters and what "Chasing your dreams" really means.

Music is a huge part of my life and the families as we drove up to Santa Barbara this morning for Chey's next procedure Tim McGraw was playing. On a few songs my wife would cry. Especially when "My little Girl" played. Tears fell down my face when "The Cowboy in Me" played. That song is my daughter. Word for word it fits. What is even more amazing is the song fits me as well. Granted my daughter won't be doing 219 mph on a crotch rocket, but she will audition for her dreams. She will ride and never worry about the fall. She knows in her heart the fall is what makes us stronger people. It builds our hearts once we get up and dust off.

For those that read this as parents what do you look for in your kids setting aside the obvious? Do you look into their eyes down to their hearts and see a life coming alive? If you do, does that life bring joy to you or fear?

Surgery is about to happen again. I look in my daughters eyes and my heart swells because I know she has her heart, her dreams, and the inner strength to ride and never worry about the fall.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Here is the song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39TDrahPr3I

The Bullet

2010-04-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

      I stare down at the bullet again, looking at the ridges that cave into the hollow point. It's the daily reminder that I am worth more dead than alive. .40 S&W round traveling through my mouth out the top of my skull won't solve shit. It just leaves me a coward and my family without me. I look at the news and the people I know and there are so many desperate people out there. A photo of me and my bike crosses my view on my cell, the one thing that use to bring me back to life sits idle.
I use to be able to strap on my helmet and find a canyon road and just let go of all that was built up inside of me, it was my escape. My sanctuary. In a sense it was my church. As I could ride and spend time listening for the spirit in my heart to start talking again. The last ride I had the voice in my heart didn't even stir.
   I don't want to talk to anyone, I try to pray but all that seems to come about is a kaleidoscope of thoughts that have nothing to do with what is on my heart or mind. The bullet is such a simple tool. I roll it around in my hand and feel the weight. One of the qualities of being a wise man is knowing your limitations. I think I have reached my limit. I have said goodbye to friendships that lasted over two decades. I have watched truth get twisted too many times. I have watched people get job offers and bitch about it. Each time the slap across face stings a little more. Part of me just wants to tell them to shut the fuck up, or spend a day in my life. Come on you have three offers to decide on. My phone doesn't even ring.
    I am thinking today is the day I just say "fuck it" and go silent. My voice or words are just that. Words. Depression is a bitch when you know you are there and you can't find a way to climb the hell out of it.

Riding off a Lapse of Judgment

2010-03-02T11:04:00.000-08:00

It has been a hard week or so for me. Yesterday I decided to take a ride down one of the canyon roads that I have feared for many, many years. As I stopped at the top of Grimes canyon, I mentally hauled ass down the road. When I had pictured everything as it was the last time I was on there, I put my bike in gear and did a "Learning lap" (This is what you do to test the track/Canyon and the adjustments made on your bike) The first run down my speed average for the whole canyon was 50 mph. This is faster than I have gone down it before, but still wasn't good enough for me. I had some serious aggression I needed to rid myself of.

I rode back up to the top and started from farther back to keep my speed up. That run down average speed was 84 mph. It was a kick in the ass in terms of adrenaline rushes. Still it wasn't good enough. The music in my headphones was taunting me in a sense. I rode back up to the top again. One last time. I was going to erase the fear long held for that canyon once and for all. I also hoped the last run would heal the wounds felt deep within from what had transpired in my personal life. I went another mile back with no cars coming on my side of the road I took off. I hit the entrance of the canyon at 125 mph. I have attached a photo from google maps of the canyon. So you can get a general idea of the road. As I came into the first left hand corner, I was leaning into the corner with my whole body, knees and elbows dragging as my tires strained to hold their grip on the asphalt. Right hand corners are a bitch on my body to the fake elbow in that arm. Yet, I was hell bent on pushing myself and my bike i made the next right loading all my weight into my legs and part of my elbow. I continued down the road like my ass was on fire. In a matter of moments I was making the sweeping right hand turn at the bottom of the hill that brings out to Hwy 26. I pulled over and looked at my lap timer on my bike and avg speed. Average speed that run was 94 mph. Three times what i had ever done on a bike on that road in my life time. My arm and body ached.

I rode home feeling personal satisfaction at facing and completing a challenge I gave myself. That was all I felt as I rode home. My heart still feeling betrayed. I parked the bitch in the garage. Then went about my day writing my newest book. In the evening last night I received an e-mail and a few texts. No matter how hard I tried to put the words in all out of my head. I spent the evening going over my decision. Replaying the lapse of judgment my wife and I made just over a week earlier. I sat there in our room talking to God. Asking him to just take my thoughts away so I could fall asleep. I finally drifted off about 3:45 in the morning. Waking at 6:45 this morning.

My wife and I had a long talk over our morning coffee that extended into me taking her to work. As I drove back from her work alone in my thoughts and my heart again. I still had not felt that I had made any personal progress in my communications with God. I was still angry, Actually I was extremely pissed off is the better term. People all deal with their emotions differently. I have seen some that won't even deal with them. Others that attack back placing blame on anyone or anything but themselves. I deal with my anger two ways. I either confront with words or fists, or I ride it out. Okay maybe there are three if I can sex is a great way to work off frustration, but I was fucking pissed. When I get that this place it is dangerous for me. I lose sight of my calling and what I have in my life and I stew in my anger. Which of course just gets me angrier. I stood looking at my bedroom window and could see rain clouds were over the canyon. As I drank another cup of coffee I just looked off to the distance. "Kick start my heart" blaring out of the surround system in my computer. I could feel the bass pounding through my floor as I sat there looking and thinking. As I sipped my coffee and it had grown cold. I walked to the closet and took out racing gear and laid it upon the bed. My heart being called to the mountain once again. My elbow still in pain from the ride yesterday. My right pinky has absolutely no feeling in it this morning. It just remains numb like has for some time now.

I look at my gear as I change the song to the "Saints of Los Angeles" I begin to stretch out on the floor trying to get the proper range of motion in my arms and hips. Trying to get blood to circulate into my pinky. I must have replayed the song three to four times. As I stretched and watched the clouds grow thicker on the distant mountain. I went back to my computer and changed the song to "Don't Go Away Mad. Just Go Away." I wrestled my body into the racing gear after I wrapped my elbow brace tightly into place. Zipping the two piece together in the full mirrors that make up our closet doors. When I was finally done I put my Alpine Star Super Tech R racing boots on. The best boot I have ever worn in years of riding by the way. When I snitched the last buckle shut. I walked downstairs to have a meeting with what was stirring within me. I put my earbuds into my ears and selected the music folder with the hardest heavy metal music I have in my collection.

As I got on the 101 freeway Ride the wind was blasting through my ears, as I turned onto the 101/23 interchange I was hitting the corner like it was my own piece of America. Oops, I was breaking the law of the highway as well at the rate of speed I was carrying. I slowed down as I got into the main part of the highway. Listening to the road and cars that were all around. In the view to my north the clouds had grown. I felt my heart beat faster, I prayed that the canyon be covered in fresh rain or that I would ride straight into a down pour to cleanse myself.

If you have never been on a crotch rocket you need to understand in a bike that is less than 300 lbs is over 889 CC of bored out horsepower that delivers roughly 180 horsepower to the rear wheel with 145 foot pounds of torque. At least that is what my bike has been modified to deliver. As I came up on the canyon I could feel the winds from the storm blowing on my left side. I tucked into my little bitch and grabbed a handful of throttle taking it up to 14000 RPM. The inner level of the power band where the exhaust opens up to let out a grunt of seductive noise and vibration through my lower body. If there was a slower car I blew by it.

I hit the canyon as rain drops slammed my helmet and face mask the speed I carried provided the wiper effect as the water just beaded off the sides and down my neck. I went down that road with no thoughts of safety for myself. It was just a moment to be surrounded by some of the greatest scenery on earth and a virgin road slick with moisture. I hit that first corner and felt the bike sliding as my tires screamed for grip on the slippery pavement, I kept my head and my body looking through the corner. for there are no guardrails in this corner and if your front end slides out you are taking a journey down a huge cliff, your landing would be on various cars and other bikes that the road claimed. In less than a minute I was at the bottom. A smile as big as Texas on my face. I wanted more so I rode to the top again with the same speed as going down. Hitting every mark my physiology had memorized over the past two days. As I came out at the top, something came over me. I took off my Racing jacket letting the water soak me down. I tied it around my waist and put my gloves back on wiping off the grips.

I said a little prayer and spun my rear tire in the wet pavement as I went down the canyon again. The rain hitting my body like bee stings, the faster I went the more the drops pierced me. If I slowed it was like I was being misted in a calming shower. Slow went off the edge of the cliffs as I hauled the ever loving mail out myself and my bike. I was at the edge of the envelope where I knew my limitations. A bit of fear raced through my body as I felt my front end begin to slide out on a right hand corner. If I used either my front or rear brake it was over I would slide into a huge rock and be a greasy spot on the side of the road. I gave my bike more throttle to push beyond anything I could handle. It is in this moment all pressure, hurt and betrayal disappeared. Soaking wet and hanging on for dear life, I exited the canyon with a rush few will ever know. I rode down the road to the gas station at the bottom. Filled my tank and smoked a cigarette that tasted so rich and wonderful to me. All the while the rain would come and go. As I took the last gulp of my Pepsi, and the last drag of my smoke, I looked at my controls. Average speed for the last lap was 134 mph. I looked again to make sure on was on the right screen. There in front of me it read the same number. Max speed that registered on that lap was 164 mph.

I smoked one more grit as I tuned into my heart and what I felt. I thanked my Maker for giving the whatever it was to pull off that ride. Knowing he rode the whole way with me. I rode home from rain to a storm making it's way into Newbury Park, when I pulled into the garage, I realized I never put my jacket back on. As I sat down to write this out the feeling of warmth hasn't passed. My mind clear, my heart focused, my desire strengthened once again. Funny the song playing on Pandora as I finish writing is "The Warrior" by Scandel, leading into "One night Alone" by Vixen.

There is a book to be finished. Lives to be touched, and hearts to be uncovered. Never sacrifice one if it will destroy the whole.And always remember you can't save them all.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

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Things that just make you go Wow.

2010-01-09T09:07:00.000-08:00

It has been a week where I have just had to sit back and be overwhelmed at the way God weaves people in and out of our lives in his way of showing us his Love and his presense isn't far from us. It is a week that can be summed up in a song by Todd Agnew called "Grace like Rain."

People from my past that show up at times when I am searching most for rhyme or reason to what is going on in life. Where I find myself searching my heart to see if I am on the right path. That place where doubt and fear lay just below the surface. Until I am called upon to act on the behalf of some one else that is going through far worse than myself or my family is. Most who read this know I am counselor to wide array of what society casts out. I love it. It brings out a fire inside that when that flame is firing I just know that God is ever present fanning the flame. This was a week where he pretty much put the fan on full blast. In doing so he brought out people from that have been in my life over thirty years. To people that are just new friends in the making. With each I can see Him there. The purpose he has exudes from these people.

I put out a request for people to help someone. The first person to contact was that person that has known me since about second grade. Without hesitation she stepped up. Within minutes of that. Some one else that is facing a lot of uncertainity for her families future. Sends an e-mail. "I will cover the whole ticket. Where do I send the check?" Then more and more people come forward to offer what they could to make sure that some one can have a better life. I was overwhelmed. I sat there praying the day after all this happened gratitude was all I could offer. As I rode my bike through the canyons to have my own moment in his presense. My heart swelled. As I saw the smile of my bride. The laughter of my kids as they could see Dad finally getting his strength back.

I rode by the beach looking out over the waves as they made their way in. Almost like I was on auto pilot. Until I looked down and realized I was hitting about 110 mph. PCH is not the place for bat out of hell speed when you are talking to God and looking at the beauty he created. My arm popped.. Let me re-phrase that. My elbow popped with such a crashing sound that I heard through my blairing music and the screaming sound of my bike. I planned to take a long ride and just enjoy the Coast.

Plans changed rather quickly as I wasn't sure if I put my wieght into my right arm if it would hold my fat ass up. So what did I do??? I was at a point I could turn around and go back up the coast to take a small winding road to get home. Or I could make a left hand turn and go up Mulholland to Decker to Hidden Valley Road then home.. The simple choice would be to turn around and just do PCH. Well sometimes I am not the brightest apple in the bushell. I made the left. Not only that. For some unknown reason I went into canyon running mode. Tucking into my bike. I just hauled ass. Into the first right hand corner, I said a little prayer... Something like "Don't make it hurt to bad." My my whole right side of my buddy hanging off the bike knee outstretched, elbow tucked in until the apex of the corner where it has to become part of the physiology of the bike to make the physics of speed on a hlf inch patch of rubber stick to ashphalt at a speed of 90 mph.

The elbow held out. I whispered a Thanks for that one. The reply I got was.. "Attack it, I want to play today." A little explanation here. The voice I hear at these moments is that of my partner. In his 70 year old voice that is one of the most Godly men I know. As I climbed higher into the canyon. I attacked it. I pushed myself and my bike like I hadn't done in a long time.. Well two days.. This time it was different. It was just a pure dance. I hit every mark like I had all of sudden become Valentino Rossi. Not a single car the entire time came by. As I hit the straight to the intersection of Decker. I dropped to Fourth gear and Punched it. The front wheel rising. I stood up to ride the one stunt I can do. Taking it back up to sixth gear as i pegged the throttle. To the point my rev limiter kicked in. I dropped the front wheel and locked the rear brake to have a little fun making skid marks. When I turned onto Decker. All the questions I had been asking had answers. My mind cleared. My heart that was pumping something fearse. For those readers that don't live local to hear. Go too Google maps and type Decker Canyon California. Actually click on the title. Follow the road. From where it intersects with Mulholland traveling north to Westlake Village.

The entire time between the time I turned left until I turned left again into Hidden valley was 5:00 minutes. Another two minutes to get through Hidden Valley. When I got home Theresa was home sick and I spent time just being with her. She hates when I tell anything about how fast I went. She just said "Wow. That was a quick ride." I replied my elbow popped. Came home has quick as I could.

The remainder of the week was just blessing come forth from another. To the point Igot to make a whole bunch of people laugh on facebook because of my wild antics in humor. Happiness and Love are two words that should always go hand in hand. This has been the week where the words were lived out of many hearts.

I pray that Lord willing the weeks to come will build upon this. To all those people that come into my life when I am searching Gods greater purpose. Thank you for showing me he is here and alive and well within you.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Frustration

2009-12-08T08:52:00.001-08:00

I awoke again in the middle of the night. Puking my guts out as the blood pooled within my belly. Blood sugar level at a low that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Yet, in all of it I sat and tried to talk with you again. I laid my burdens and fears in front of you. As I wretched time and again. I began thanking you for all you have given myself and my family. I thanked you for the trials we have been facing. I thanked you for the utter sense of incompetence that overwhelms me in my waking hours.

You tell us that you will never give us anything we can't handle. As I cleaned up I started to hear the song "Word of God Speak." A song long put back in the recesses of my mind and heart. For the frustration level as gone above any I have ever had in my life time. Frustration always leads to anger. I couldn't fathom why as I looked at my blood spilled out before me that I would be hearing this song in my head. I took more drags off my smoke and just listened to words in my head.

I went and laid my body back to rest. Sleep wasn't in the cards so I just laid there coughing and listening to the words of the song play over and over again in my head. Wondering if that was you speaking to me. That you took the words from a song to tell me that your word still does speak to me? That some how I have come through the nights of puking blood as my body over stresses on what I have perceived as your lack of action or presence in our household and hearts.

I finally did drift back off to sleep as the clock said 4:00 a.m. When I woke to hear the sound of my beloved bride getting ready for work. The words of the song came back. I closed my eyes and just listened to the words play over and over. With the tempo of the water falling from the shower. I got 45 minutes more of rest.

I woke with a sense of peace that you are in fact present. That you do actually care. That you will actually move in a way that gets this family back on track. I smiled for the first morning in a long time. I went outside to feel the coolness of the air as I smoked. My beloved came out to speak with me. In two minutes my smile was gone. My heart heavy once again.

At 2:30 in the morning my beloved finds herself in yelling match of frustration with you. She is angered at the "Plan" you speak of in Jeremiah 29:11. For she has no clue what the hell that plan is. She hears me get sick and wonders where you are. She sees how bad we struggle day in and day out and wonders if you are even open to hearing. As she speaks I hear frustration turn to anger with you. My heart begins to worry. In almost 17 years of marriage I have never seen her this angered and hopeless in what you have given her heart. In a moment the battle line was drawn again. I looked in her eyes as she spoke and the fire that once was there to help others as become a fire of anger towards you. That is a scary and treacherous place to be.

We drove the kids to school and as we dropped off mini -me to head towards the freeway to get her to work. She looks over and asks "Is there something wrong?" I reply "I can't explain it." We drive further down the road. Silent Night plays on the radio at a stop light I turn off the radio. Look at her to tell her that her frustration is becoming Anger towards you. That I am worried that she will soon turn away from you for your lack of silence in our life. I tell her how I have gone from asking you for things to thanking you for what you have given and the peace it seems to bring. The freeway was jammed so we took the back road to her work. I spoke as did she.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. The frustration and anger coming out as each tear fell. The worry making her voice tremble as she spoke. You were there. You heard her speak. You heard the anger she is feeling towards the world and you. You know the foot hold that brings. Love conquers all. Yet, as I dropped her off and drove back home I felt the pain in my stomach rise.

As I sit here writing I listen to the song play over and over each word hits me in a crashing wave. I have no answers but to love her more. I just feel so fucking helpless. I want to fight but I don't know whom or what to fight. I write this out to you Lord. The words to Open the Eyes of my Heart come out the speakers at me. My belly fills as I feel it constrict and tense up. You spoke to me in the middle of the night in one song. Now I listen to this one asking that you open my eyes. That you open the eyes of my beloved to show us that you are in fact presently in love with us. That we are not stuck in some boat out in the middle of purgatory's ocean. Just sitting there. Casted aside in some Heavenly solitary confinement.

Is it my silence you ask for? Do I just need to be with in the quiet and hear your voice there? What does a Warrior do when he doesn't know is enemy or if he is his own enemy? Do I fight with all you have given me in this life to go down to the very gates of the lake of fire and have yet another fight with Evil. How do I fight for my beloved so she can see that you are in fact here. Throw me a bone here. I am not lo9st. I am just some where that isn't where I should be. My hands feel tied. My heart feels conflicted and convicted. All because of what? No employment..

"I am finding myself at a loss for words

and the funny thing is it's okay.

The last thing I need is to be heard

but to hear what you would say.

Word of God Speak

Would you pour down like rain

Washing my eyes to see your Majesty

To be still and know

that you in this place

Please let me stay and rest in your holiness

Word of God speak.

I am finding myself in the midst of you

Beyond the music, beyond the noise

All that we need is to be you

And in the quiet hear your voice.

I am finding myself at a loss for words

and it's okay. "

Lyrics by Mercy Me

No title really just writing

2009-10-22T22:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday for the first time in almost ten years I looked upon him. The years had finally caught up to him. Yet his smile was there. The laughter in his stare. I couldn't digest what I had I seen the moment he went to get out of the truck and I saw his braces for the first time.

Years of sun have left there cancerous marks on his body. Diabetes has taken his feet away. The braces are his way to stand up right walk. "Help me up to curb son. Let us smoke and talk."

His arm around me as I helped him get to the bench. My step mother in tow watching him get around.

We talked and smoked. Went inside ate, had a beer. I showed him pictures of his grand kids. Oldest to youngest they would sit and stare. Wondering when and where had the time gone. Has it really been this long?

I went back to work after the meal thankful. As the night progressed I would drift off to the years we have had. The years between a father and a son. I laid awake in the night with a tear in my eyes. He has become the old man. Loving in the hardest of his times. Still guiding in his way. Still being the man I wanted to be one day.

His eyes still piercing blue. Smile and hair line farther back. Yet he is still my dad. As I laid there I saw something my wife has lived out for years. I saw the day that will come when I will say a final goodbye. Last night I tried to write this all out. Emotion was what came out. In all the things I tried to say.

Today I sit and write what I couldn't get my heart around in the hours to the dawn. I am tired. Exhausted is more like it. Yet, I got see me dad. To say the things I never could or would. To hear him sing his praises of my kids. To compliment the beauty of my wife. To say he now sees honor in my heart he always knew was there.

I have been a man for years, yesterday he confirmed that in his heart I am good man. I finally grew up in an Apple bee's some where in Chandler, Arizona. If he were to go in his sleep he would have heard the thank you I never offered in youth. Felt the hug of respect and concern. He will have seen his legacy raising his family. Knowing I finally now the cost it took in putting up with a little shit like me at times.

What a difference two hours can bring. Ten years caught up. A lifetime lived. A lifetime being lived. Both men with hearts that don't quit. Guess it is the beer and smokes. Nope.. It is just the love finally being shared from a son to his father.

I love you dad.

S/F

Smokin Chaplain

A Decision on a Coin Toss

2009-10-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

For Months I have been agonizing between being the IT professional I have been for years, the storm chaser that has this mirage of riches in the worst moments of peoples lives. Then there is the Counselor. The part of me that takes everything God ever blessed me with and allows me into the hearts of others to help bring them back from the ass kickings in life. I have often lost site of who I am. What I am or what I am suppose to be. Each day seems to bring the answer closer and closer to me. Yet I am so stubborn, that I don't see the "Forest through the trees."

I have gone to my knees so many times in prayer asking for this job or that. Something that puts food on the table for my family. Keeps the roof over our head. The daily shit we all go through to make sure we provide safety and security for our families. To those that know me well I live from what is deep inside my heart most days. Those absolutely closest to me know that what is in there is this raging fire to make a difference. Not in an arrogant fashion. On a stage in front of millions going " Hey Look at me!!!" It is a burning desire to just sit and listen to the hardest things people have ever experienced in Life. To be one on one and have them know my heart and what reigns within. To for lack of a better term be the "middle man" between the twisted things this world has and the Grace that is afforded us all if we take a different journey.

The world walks in the door and bitch slaps me down. I have sat staring at a bullet I have had since the day my wife and I bought the Glock. I sat here this morning looking at it. Rolling it around in my fingers. Filing of the ridges in the hollow point. It is something I have done for years. Some think it is the bullet that will be used the moment I decide to give a BJ to the barrel of the gun. At times it has been. Now it is different. It is a symbol I hold. It represents lost friends and fallen mentors. It reminds me that life is easily taken with it's force inside the proper firearm. Most of all it reminds that we have all been wounded. That there is not one of that has had a life where we didn't loose part of our heart to something that evil brought upon us. Some have a Crucifix that they hold when they want to be closer to God. To have him hear their prayers. To just make the pain go away that is welling up within.

I don't have that. I have this .40 S&W Hollow Point Bullet. And a quarter. I have had enough of my ulcer bleeding through the night where the blood gets so bad that I spend half the night puking it out. I have had enough of teetering on a fence between what others want from me and what I know God has called of me. I am tired of feeling like the young man that asks Christ "What do I have to do to follow you?" Only to hear Christ reply " Give up your riches and join me." The very thought of giving up all the young man had scarred him to turning the other direction and not following. You never hear what happened to the young man after he walked away from having his chance to give it all up and walk side by side with Christ.

I listen to one of my favorite songs as I write this my fingers type. I look closely at the bullet and the quarter. Do I flip the coin? How far am I willing to go to follow what is in my heart? How much faith do I truly have that God is bigger than anything I can fathom and that he knows my heart intimately? That he loves what is there? Is a coin toss a leap of faith? I don't know but it is the easiest way I know how to make life altering decisions. Heads I pursue my heart with the reckless and calculated intelligence I have been blessed with. Tails, I walk away from the danger, the uncertainty, the joy that words can't describe when one sees someone find their own heart and the image they bear to the Lord above. Back to tasting my own blood night after night as I stress myself into a raging kinetic frenzy. That leads me to seeing my blood evacuate my belly. A looser or some farce of a man.

Well lets see. It is a one toss event. Not two out of three. One shot. I accept the decision and live out whatever the coin reveals.

The coin is in flight.

Well I'll be a monkeys freaking uncle. Would you look at that!!! Decision has been made. The profound thing in all of this when I looked down the words "In God We trust" were looking back at me. For those that don't have a quarter present that means Heads wins. A New Hampshire minted quarter there is some irony in that. "Live free or Die" is on the back.

The thinking is done. It is action time.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YlV-NEsYkA

What is the Purpose

2009-09-15T11:27:00.001-07:00

Let's take a walk down reality row for a few moments here. Do you know in the past 48 hours in our community over two hundred women were abused by those that say they Love them. Few were reported to the authorities. Yet the wound is there. The abuse ranges from demeaning the value and the beauty of the women to actually beating the shit out her. Leaving her on the floor bloodied. The excuses range from " Well she has gained weight. I just let her know it." To the extreme. " The house wasn't clean and dinner was cold when I got home. She gave me some stupid excuse so I smacked her around. That way she knows what I expect from her. If it happens again I will do it again. She needs to know her role in this house. I do this to show her what love is."

In each of these circumstances their was a young child in the room watching their parents basically kill the heart of the other. What does that child learn about love when watching this? How will the young boy be when he becomes a man. How will the young girl be when she is a woman? Statistically, they will take what they see grow up and keep the cycle going. FEW very FEW will learn that this isn't love, therefore going on a personal journey to finding real love.

For five years I have watched the battered women walk into huge places of worship and beg for help. To be turned away. I have witnessed a retired pastor look down on his raped daughter and tell her : "Look what you have done to the church. If you would have just said yes to sex, we wouldn't have to deal with the shame you brought the family." The same girls mother agreed with the fathers words. Time and again I have seen those called to help fail. In such a grand scale that it has taken every ounce of my strength to not beat the shit out of them. Yes it is true violence sometimes has to be used to prevent violence.

Do all churches in America act this way?? No. Are the majority of the Pastors in the pulpit qualified to actually sit down and provide wise counsel to these women? No. Would they spend the time to walk some one from the scar of a battered heart to the unending river of Love? No. Seminary is not designed to teach this.

That saddens me and pisses me off at the same time. I have sat in these seminaries. I am licensed Pastor in the state of California. I can marry, bury and get behind a pulpit and preach the word to build yet another church with nice stain glass windows, huge worship teams, and nice comfy seats. Where on any Sunday you can come hear me present my show. Yet, I would never know you personally. You see. I have machine to keep running. If you know me I am the absolute polar opposite of that spectrum. As is my partner.

Here is another piece of reality for your day. We are sending men and women from this country to foreign soil to fight a war. Each person there has volunteered their very life to protect OUR country from all enemies foreign and domestic. Everyday a veteran returns to his home town. Ill-prepared to deal with what their heart and mind had to see in that foreign land. Are these men and women candy asses for having nightmares of death? Are they a candy ass because their heart is broken by having to pick up a weapon and kill another human being to save the life of himself or his buddies next to him? No. A candy ass they are not.

Are we to simply to sit on our fat happy asses watching Oprah and American Idol as these men and women suffer? When they do go for help the Government has inadequate facilities and staff to assist these people. A shrink writes a script to medicate the person. Maybe sees them twice to see if the dosing is correct. Makes a note on a chart and sends the walking wounded on their merry way. They diagnose, bill the VA for their time and go back and do it all over.

Not since Vietnam has this country had a suicide rate as high as it is now. Of veterans that come home. In Spokane Washington in a 4 month period of time 8 men took their lives. The phone calls to the VA suicide lines were played and these men were cast aside. When asked if the VA felt any responsibility for not assisting they passed the buck. Took no responsibility for their inadequate handling of the cases. People.. Damn the bodies are hitting the floor daily.

What about the cop that walks into a crime scene that will forever change him? Or the Fireman that walks into a home too find the charred bodies of an entire family. Where if either should go ask for help it is placed on their employment file. Marked for the duration of their tour of duty. That they have some instability that required the department shrink to intervene. Umm.. I call bull shit!!!

Here is another fact I would like you to consider. What if there was an organization that worked with all these various groups, would you turn off Oprah or Simon for a minute and look at what they do and how you can help them.

I am a partner in one of these organizations. Our approach isn't conventional by any means. We whole heartily believe that the word of God has the ability to show us our life purpose. To restore the battered heart. To revive the fight in the Warriors. To sit with all walks of life and build a relationship with the person. Do we win every time we meet someone. The answer is no. Not everyone that comes to us will get it. Do my partner and I throw our arms up in the air and say "Screw It?" NO.

We fight with every fiber of our being to make a heart whole again. Hours upon hours of listening, questioning, and walking people along side us to the One. Here is another reality. We can't do this for free. No organization can!!! We don't charge those that serve the community or our country. Most abuse victims don't have the funds to pay either. For us to continue saving hearts in our community we require help. That's a fact Jack!!

Since 1983 my partner has had the only biblical counseling center in the Ventura/Los Angeles county area. This center has helped Thousands of people regain their heart. To find true love. To recover from abusive acts that were dealt upon them.

What is the purpose of this blog today. Why are we asking people to read it. Simple. We need help. We are a non-profit organization that requires people to financially support us so we can continue helping those that seek us out. All donations are tax deductible.. (Lawyer Speak)

Man I am starting to sound like the Jerry Lewis telethon here. This isn't my greatest quality. Folks. I love what I do with everything inside of me. Whether I win or loose. I know God has placed this on Frank and I. If you are interested in knowing more please visit us @ www.hopecoming.com

Read the reality again. Some one has to walk into the middle of peoples personal hell's to show them a measure of hope. Like the Warriors, the Cops and Firemen, when every one else is running away from it. We run towards it.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

How FAR

2009-08-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YlV-NEsYkA Open in a new tab to read and listen at the same time.

It has been a week that I have realized the part that I dislike most about myself is coming to the surface again. It is the part of me that seeks riches in money. Not the simple goal of having employment that provides for my family. That brings stability to those around me. No it goes way deeper and more hideous than that.

I disconnected myself from God in my pursuit. Instead of putting everything in his hands. I pulled everything thinking I could forge my own dreams and reach them. I went to the place where instinct takes over and compassion takes flight. I stood in a place where I felt my balls were big enough to break through any obstacle placed in front of me. I went into complete Marine mode to everyone that shares this life with me. To the point I got in the face of my sick wife shouting at her to get off her ass and push thru the pain. The fever. The aches that have been with her for ten days. All for her to get a pay check. Umm.. Hello??? I am the one that is suppose to be doing that. I look down the hall and see the remnants of her reaction as she had thrown her keys at me. The impact a marred wall with key hole marks in it.

How Far did I walk away from what I know is best? How far have I built the wall back around my heart? When I go ride and I don't feel Christ riding with me laughing and having a blast it brings fear and pressure upon me. We are struggling to survive. Instead of having Faith that Grace will make up the difference. I sit and plan ways that I go absolutely illegal to gain what is needed for the family. How Far have I walked away from myself?

In moments when I feel the tug of the spirit upon me, lucidity comes back and I go introspectively to the deepest part of my heart. I sit there with a song like this one playing in my ears. As I listen my brain shuts off. My heart begins to fill back up with hope. A plan forms not of my making. The plan scars the shit out of me, but hey fear is just a challenge. Challenge is neither good nor bad. It is just a challenge. Chasing storms is out the door folks. I need to do what is best for my family. I need to bring my heart back in line with He who gives me my strength. Riches here. Stay here when I die.

How Far??? Damn that is the question I have stuck in my heart. How Far did I really walk away. How much of the pressure cooker that I am living is self induced? Well, All of it. Now I ask How Far, do I need to walk to find that Grace. To accept it without question? How far is it for me to go from being a warrior in this pitiful fucked up world. To being the warrior that inspires others to take a journey to their own heart?

How Far is it to look at my oldest and dearest friends and feel their pain like I have done time and again? Instead of blowing off the pain as part and parcel of trivial shrink bull shit. Soldiers are dying on battlefields. With my countries flag on their upper arm. Where is the part of me that would take their place in an instant? Where is my fight for them and their families?

When I wonder How Far. A voice speaks in my heart as I write. " How Far is as far as the East is from West. So is my love for you." I have a quote I use. "Helmet on, Visor, down, Brain off." With a set of ear buds and a passionate voice singing a song in my ear. My brain has shut off. My heart beats once more with desire.

I reverse the question of How Far away have I gone. Too How Far am I willing to go to keep that desire burning my heart? The answer is very simple. I go as far as the East is from West. Knowing without a doubt I am loved by more than the world can ever offer in it's riches. That as I stop having this cranial rectal inversion.. ( For those that don't like big words. It means pulling my head out of my ass.) I love with a warriors heart that knows I can do all things through him that gives me strength.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Did I really just do that??

2009-07-17T19:06:00.000-07:00

I had an extremely intense dream last night that had me awaken at 5:00 in the morning with tears running down my face. Alone I began to write it down as I closed my eyes to remember the details. It took me almost four hours to get it written down and sent too the person. After spending that much time looking at the vivid images of my own heart. I needed a break. I also knew it was time to finally get rid of everything that was holding me back.

I got on my mistress and headed for the beach. We were going to do something today that I have been holding back as my way out. My way to run away when things get too hard in what lays deepest in my heart. We rode down the winding road like we were one ball of pissed off anger. Knees dragging I could feel her heat rise between my legs with each corner. She was breathing heavy by the time we hit the flats. I throttled her up squeezing her between my legs as we just rode to our destination. We crested the hill looking at the old "Hotel California"She had her front end up in the air with about an 1/8th of inch of rubber actually touching the ground on her rear wheel. We descended gaining speed. At the bottom she had me slam her down three gears as the clutch came out her rear tire backed us into the corner looking down at 88 mph. As I was dragging my knee on the ground. I sped up for the next hard right. Locking up upon entry to the corner. This corner 75 mph. In front of me now was straight road. I felt that urge that seems to scare those close too me. Yet, I had to get this done.

I am not suppose to tell my bride how fast I go as she feels ignorance is bliss. As I turned onto Los Posas road I tucked into the closest thing I have too a woman right now. My head tucked behind the wind screen I jammed it. As I entered the first sweeping right hand turn I looked down to see 204 mph looking back at me. I just squeezed her harder and tucked myself in a little more. Next corner I was at 206 as I made my way through drifting into the oncoming lane. I lifted my body to air brake before planting myself in the grill of a car or the local fields. Dragging her down to 180 I began safely braking for the turn onto PCH. I rode down to one of my favorite spots. Parked and crossed PCH to Neptune's and bought myself a 32-40 ounce MGD and crossed back over to the small cliffs of county line. I found a rock that gave a great view of the ocean. I opened my beer and took a sip. Damn did it taste good. I put my helmet down and took off my riding jacket opening the ass pouch built into it.

I took the letters from a parent that in my eyes could give a shit if I live or die. Excuse #1 to walk away from my calling. The American flag my mentor wore on his arm as he served this nation blood stained from when he took his life in front of his daughter. Excuse # 2 to walk away. Two hazel green marbles that symbolize the eyes of the life I took in the streets of El Paso in my youth. Excuse # 3. Letters of hate for me from a gamut of people. Excuse #4. Finally a piece of what happened between my wife and I when we went our separate ways. Excuse #5.

All of these combined are what I held onto as a way for me to escape back to a life I once I lived where things were safe. Where i could put up a facade and be just another fake ass piece of shit taking up space on this planet. This week I have had the highest of highs and lowest of lows. The dream from the night before was the final catalyst for this moment. I drank my beer slowly as I felt the sun on my body. Looking at the words from some one that should have loved better. The flag of our nation tainted in blood from wounds suffered long after combat had given way to peace. The marbles. Now that was a trip too look at.

I was holding my anchors to my freedom in my hands in the place that has seen me at my worst and took me back at my best. Yet, I couldn't move. Finally a song began to play in my ear buds I hadn't heard in quite some time. I finished my beer in a long swig and poured out whatever remnant remained. I stuffed in the letters. The flag the marbles and 40 years worth me not knowing if I could really be me. I sealed the bottle up. I climbed down the cliff to the rocks below. As the waves crashed on the shore I went back to the dream of the night before and just what it all meant.

I procrastinated some more as I was throwing every excuse I had left away. With that I would have no exit strategy. I would have nothing to let me walk from those that hurt when shit got too deep. Do you see the hugeness of this moment?

I let that bottle fly with all I had in me as it hit the ocean it was carried out with the tide. I took my shirt off for the first time in public in about 18 years. Climbed back up the cliff and watched the ocean some more. Sending photos and video's to those closest to me.

I picked up my gear and walked back to my mistress. Knowing I had just let everything go. That I would never again ask someone to do something I was not willing to do myself. I put my shirt back on as to not cause an accident on PCH. I see the headline "Dolphin Whale found walking on PCH 18 car pile up ensues, News at 11."

As I turned to head back home I felt a peace rush over me like I was a kid again. I have one stunt in my bag of tricks when it comes to stunts. So I felt like I would have fun letting go and doing it. As I came around the bend from County line I dropped from 6th to the 3rd gear and Punched the throttle. She responded by coming up on her back wheel. I shifted up to fifth and stood up on the pegs waving at the cars as the passed on the opposite side. I reached forward and slapped a kiss on my league sticker. Then spanked my ass for the cars behind me. I know I am childish at times.. Okay most of the time. I held this for two miles. Finally my ass cramped up and I but her front end down. I rode the rest of the way home within the speed limit.. As I came back up Potrero Road we danced one more time through the winding twisting road. sliding in the gravel at the edge. Dodging cars on their descent as they were taking my lane away.

I got home and talked with my wife and shared all I just did. Her response was "I am speechless." I replied "Kinda cool isn't it." My partner called me a short time later to debrief for the week on what we are both counseling on.

As I got in my truck the following song was being played. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWE2FCTXBrI

I looked up and thanked him for all he has done for my family, friends and me. Now I stand stripped of excuses. It's kinda fun having your bare ass hanging in the wind.. Just wish I would have had that tattoo put there..

I'm Broken

2009-07-05T19:40:00.000-07:00

Today I said goodbye to one of the greatest guys I have ever known. While I spoke with his brother the memories long stuffed away came back. The faces of people I knew when I was a little shit that couldn't make sense of who the hell I was came back into view.

This is the 25 Th person I have known to die this year. Another war vet another one of America's hero's. My ad vocation is to help all that come to me. To sacrifice every part of what I have to make sure they find that Love that is pure and true. To bring warriors back from the brink of self destruction. To build up those that have fallen. No thanks is needed. yet today I am am weak and broken. The super man cap illusion is long gone. I just want to get drunk and feel the pain of the loss of friends. From Marines to Corpsman that died trying to save my brothers in arms in a foreign sand. To the women I reached a hand out too to help that went back to be beaten to death by sick little boys parading around in the body of a man.

I hurt today. My greatest part of my heart is miles away. Yet, I am right where I am suppose to be. I hurt. I feel broken. I surrender what is left of my strength and try to seek the peace within. That awakens me to fight again. Yet, I fucking feel pissed off. I look out the window at my bike and the thought of riding her run through the head. To take some tequila and beer and ride into the sunset and get shit fucking skunk drunk. A shot for each soul I have said goodbye too.

To stop on the end of some canyon that ends at the beach. Walk out on the shore and just see how fucking small life is in this world. I saw friends I have known for years cry today. Friends I have known since I was 4 years old. Jeff B. still strong and poised like he has always been. Jim N my best friend for years give words that I couldn't say. Then I spent time with someone that has known me better than I knew myself. She called me on my shit and it felt good to know she knew me so well so many years ago.

I raise another shot of tequila and some more beer. Numbness eludes me. The pain is still there. The faces of those I have said goodbye still flash in my eyes. I am suppose to be the strong one. Why the hell do I feel so lost. So broken. In life there is death. I have known that for years.

Is it the tequila and the MGD. Was it the unit coins I threw off the bow of the Midway? Was it seeing my past in the present that has dulled the blade of my integrity? My bike still sits outside my window calling the daemons in me to come out and play. To take her out and just haul ass. The devil in her is ever present. I look at my helmet and gear and wonder what it would be like to ride like a bat out of hell. Then reality breaks through in the images of my family. My son looking at me with the mini me smile. My youngest saying "Hi Daddy"

I am a man educated in the ways of the Lord. Yet right now I scream at him. Fist raised hard music pounding in my ears. "Pain is weakness leaving the Body." that is what I say time and again. Well right now I want to be drunk and feel the pain. I want to see the faces of those I have loved and then watched die. My mistress can kiss my ass as we will not be together tonight. The tequila and the beer are put away. Yet, numbness is so far away. How is that for an image bearer. I feel pain. I cry. I hurt.

As I finish writing this I look in my e-mail and see words from my bride with a song attached. I listen with my eyes closed as I type this knowing once again, I make a choice to stand at the gates of hell and dance with the devil. Sometimes he wins. Sometimes good wins, tonight in the bottom of my heart I look towards heaven and surrender. Asking for a measure of strength once more. I surrender this day and this moment. Knowing if he deems me a new day. The fight is back on. For life. For Love. For freedom

"Saepe Expertus, Semper Fidelis, Fratres Aeterni" "Often Challenged, Always Faithful, Brothers forever,

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Not for the Average Person ( R- rated)

2009-07-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

This morning I took my mistress out too get her a new pair of shoes. She went back in and got fitted rather quickly. (Thousand Oaks Powersports kicks some ass!!) I talked with the shop manager and he suggested that I take the mistress out slowly for the first 20 miles. "Let her get warmed up for a bit, kinda like fore play with women." Were his words. I pulled out onto TO Blvd and headed east doing as he suggested. Rode over to Kanan on the back roads not going too far above the speed limit.

She was handling like new. Ever place I aimed her she filled the the gap. As I turned onto Kanan the lil dude on my shoulder started talking to me. "Dude just haul ass and see what she will do!!!" I didn't listen just then. At the Latigo Canyon turn off I down shifted and it was on. I hit the throttle and she screamed. The corners seem narrow as you age.....First hard right drop down three gears, I push my body into her. She holds the corner at 75 mpg. Next corner was a left. Hit it at 95 hanging my ass off the side of her my knee inches from the ground. We danced through the canyon. Twisting side to side turned onto another road I never been on but the beach could be seen.

As I turn what do my eyes see??? A wide open straight away.. I twist her throttle and she lets out her primal scream. I go up the gears to 178 mph.. She is just getting warm. Hard ass cork screw turn is approaching fast. I release the throttle jam down the gears. Lock up her new shoes as her ass end slides into the corner. I counter balance to the other side cutting the corner in the middle. Picking up speed as we descend to the shores of PCH. As we hit PCH we went back west to Neptune's to chill and let her cool off.

As I finished my smoke I looked out over the foggy shore as the sun broke through. Decided why not go home on Mulholand Road to Decker. Off we went. I hit the canyon and we were off. They are roads in this country that just bring out the worst in me in terms of common sense. As I entered the first corner i was well over 130 mph. Never went below 80 the whole up Mulholand to Decker. As I turned onto Decker I looked down and it was half dirt half road. Nothing like Sunday. I went through the bad section using every bit of the road. As I came to the bottom my mistress was now tired from all the speed. We turned into Hidden Valley and rode normal for a bit. I can't explain why but the straight away in the middle of that tranquil road looks like a drag strip...I rounded the 25 mph corner at 60 and just goosed the throttle. My mistress lifted her front end into the air as I went through the gears. I look down and see 188 looking at me and the end of the straight coming on fast. I downshift and brake coming into the left hand turn still hot at 90mph. I hang over the side of her body my elbow tucked to my knee as it scraps the ground ever so softly. I hear my foot peg grind on the asphalt.

I come out of the corner to a crew filming something. I mellow down to the speed limit riding the rest of the way through. It was the most fun I have had in a long time. My mistress got hot and bothered. Slightly primal as she let me mount her. Now as I write this. I realize.... If you aren't willing to hang off the edge and risk all. You just won't enjoy the moments of exhaustion as much. My helmet was drenched in sweat. My body dehydrated. My mistress had her oil pumping. Yes she may just be a bike to most people. To me she is my church and refuge. I am just glad my Guardian angels like to haul ass as much as I do.

To those that helped with getting the new shoes. Thank you. I feel awesome now!!!! So does she :)

S/F
Chaps

One last excerpt

2009-05-28T09:22:00.000-07:00

One more to finish out the last post

2009-05-26T22:01:00.001-07:00

In November of 1999 I was working a new job with a company that had just merged with a big French Telco. I worked on the Help Desk. A different pace of life. My days were spent helping others with the computer and network issues. For the first time in years it was great to go to work. Theresa was going into the last month of her pregnancy. She was so beautiful. Her eyes would sparkle when I came home. My son and daughter were healing from what had happened earlier that year.

Our daughter was due Christmas day. I was looking forward to trying this new roll. Men think about this for a moment. The challenge in front of me was to raise a child that was conceived in an affair that had torn my heart out then pissed on it On December 22nd Dakota Rose made her appearance in this world. The quickest labor Theresa had ever had. I was awe struck when Dakota was born. Her I am looking at this little gift wondering if it even mattered how she got here. She was here. Another “Daddy’s Girl” Again Mrs. Malesh was our nurse. Theresa and I explained our story to her so she kept our safety in mind. Not having a birth notice printed in the papers. Mrs. Malesh is a great woman. That’s all I can say. Besides thank you.

Let’s take a walk down California law for a moment. In the state of California if a woman becomes pregnant while still married either by her Husband or otherwise. The child is the financial responsibility of her spouse. Not the “donor.” I didn’t write this law. I signed my name on Dakota’s birth certificate not because of this law. I signed because I knew I was the better Father. Plain and simple. I could be “Daddy” with all that comes with it. This isn’t arrogance on my part. It goes to show how God is always greater than our own motives. He provided me with the strength to love my family once. He had given yet another chance to me.

This whole time Theresa and I lived with a fear that her “ex” would show up to claim what was his, even though he had no legal ground to stand on. I continued to move up in the company. Then in April of 2000 my boss called me up and asked. “Have you ever heard of Spokane?” I replied that I had in fact heard of it and been there in my youth. I thought it was a great town. For those of you geographically challenged. Spokane is in Eastern Washington. Right on the Border of Idaho. If you like old movies from the 80’s. I suggest you watch Vision Quest with Matthew Modine. The whole movie was filmed in Spokane and the outlining areas.

Two weeks later I am on an airplane with one of the Technical Directors in our company. The flights were from hell. We flew Oxnard to LAX, LAX to John Wayne Airport, John Wayne to PHX, PHX to Las Vegas, Vegas to Spokane. We arrived at about 2:30 in the morning my interviews were scheduled to begin at 8:00 that morning.

The interviews weren’t that great. The thing about mergers is there are always two competing companies that come together and are told to play nice. (In the case of Alcatel making it’s presence known in the U.S. from being a purely French and European company. They purchased something like 16 companies that all competed against one another) That memo wasn’t read by the whole team in Spokane. They hated the Cali guys. However, I was there to install and maintain one of the first Corporate Voice over Internet Protocol systems in the United States. I was one of 15 people in the United States able to do the job. The only one to actually asked to do it in Spokane. The Sales division for North America was in Spokane. Either way the VP of Marketing was going to get me there. I didn’t know this at the time. I flew home without a problem.

The month of May came and went and we hadn’t heard anything about the transfer. Finally in June I got the call. The job was mine. The company was paying for us to relocate. They were even sending my wife and I up for a few days to find a house. We were given another shot to start over. Another adventure to be held.

Theresa didn’t want to fly with a newborn and two little ones. She thought it would be too much for us. She suggested we take a train. It would be fun for us all. So we booked a train ride from Oxnard to Spokane. Folks, I love my wife. You all know that. If you are a young couple with three kids reading this. DON’T TAKE A TRAIN!. Fly. What was supposed to be a two day trip was going on 72 hours by the time we hit Portland, OR. I called our corporate travel team and booked a plane ticket for us all. We were in the air about half an hour when we touched down in Spokane. That was nine years ago this past July. This is where the road to Lazarus was laid out. In the beauty of the Northwest where by all standards of evangelical ministries they say people are the least churched.

There are many people that have come through my life in these past nine years. As well as others from my youth who stand out. You have read about what I was. Now, you can read about those that have made me the man I am today. Each one of the people you will read about could write their own book on their life alone. Fortunately for me, they are allowing me to tell part of their story.

Another Excerpt from my book

2009-05-26T21:26:00.000-07:00

Please give some feedback if possible. It is kinda long. Worth reading though

I Have Cancer

I was hanging out with the wrong people again. Going riding, drinking and smoking pot like it was cigarette. Work had me stressed out and Theresa just didn’t want to work. She was determined to stay home. So I busted my ass working as many hours as possible to keep us above debt lines. It was a loosing battle. We went out to her dads one weekend and the bomb dropped on both of us.

Bob announced he had stomach cancer. His brother had died from the same thing a few months earlier. Theresa and I both went different directions. I worked harder. At the same time not being there for her. One of my supposed friends saw this and moved in on our marriage. The whole time lying to me. By April of 1998, I had moved out as Theresa admitted to having an affair with my friend. I guess it was true “trust me with your life, not your money or your wife.” All this is the hardest part of the book for me to write. It is a time in my life that was filled with betrayal and lies. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I lost one of the few men I could talk too. I was loosing my family to an asshole. I lost it. That is the best way to put it. I simply lost it. Life meant jack shit to me. I was filled with rage. I smoked more pot, drank heavily and didn’t give a shit about my kids when I did have them on the occasional weekend. I moved into a new place and one night I decided I was done. I was going out with a bang.

I got on my bike and rode down Decker Canyon like a mad man. Tears filled my eyes, I was begging God to kill me. I wanted out. With each corner I looked for an oncoming car as I rode faster than my piece of crap would go. The last corner on the road is a tight “S” curve. I had made a ten miles trip in a break neck speed. I hit that corner knowing death was waiting. I made the damn turn. I got to the bottom of the road onto PCH highway and rode to Leo Carrillo beach. Parked my bike and walked to the rocks. I watched a distant storm come in that night. I sat there as it hit in all the thunder and lightning cussing God out. Why wouldn’t he take me? Why the hell was he doing this to me. I screamed at the ocean at the top of my lungs. “Just fucking take me damn it.” That is what I screamed for hours. The storm left and the sun rose. Still I sat there wanting nothing more than to die. I had nothing and I was nothing as a man. I had failed yet again. Just give me hell was all I asked for. It had to be better than what I was living through.

God is mysterious. He puts people in our lives that just can’t be explained rationally. It is simply divine intervention. My roommate Mike pulled up with surfboards in tow. I saw him get out and come to the rocks. He smiled and greeted me. Wondered where I had been. I told him. I just tried to die and failed at that. He replied “Surf is Up, lets go see if the sea will take you.” I paddled out that morning and began to feel a tugging on my heart. My friend and I surfed that morning. We talked between sets. His words were profound. God doesn’t need you or want you yet. You have work to do. I don’t know what it is. But God does. Just shut up and see where he takes you.

My friend knows no religion. He professes no faith. Yet he kicked my ass that morning. We finished up and drove into work. My bike and the boards in his truck. I decided that day it didn’t matter what Theresa did. If she really loved me things would change. If not it was pay back for all the girls I cheated on when I was teenager.

The next weekend was Easter. I had my kids with me. I had moved out of Mike’s house into a rented room in Thousand Oaks, CA. near my buddy Bill’s house. Bill and I were tight for years. Until Theresa used him to serve me a restraining order and divorce papers. In one moment she killed a friendship between the three of us. To this day I don’t think Bill ever got over how she used him. Just how much of a bitch she was being. Bill called and told me he was going to a new church and asked if I would go with him and our other friend Tim on Sunday. I said sure. Bill picked me and the kids up that morning. I had no idea what to expect. Especially since I didn’t know Tim was even Christian. Bill and I debated faith back and forth for years. Both of us with Catholic upbringings. At 10:30 on Easter Sunday 1998 I walked into Cornerstone Community Church. Waiting for the building to fall in on me.

It was the first time I had ever been to a church like this. I was surrounded by a ton of people lifting their voices in praise to God. Remembering what Easter was about. I was feeling weird. Really weird. I held my son has he fussed. They started singing a song I never heard. I don’t know why or how but I started singing. The song was “Shout to the Lord” The Chorus in part says “ Shout to the Lord all the earth let us sing,. Power and Majesty praise to king. The mountains fall down and the earth will roar at the sound of your name.” My heart woke up and the tears flowed down my face. Tim’s mom took Dalton and Cheyenne as I just wept. At the end of service I was introduced to the pastor. Francis spoke with me in detail as I recommitted my life to Christ. He invited me surfing the next morning. We left the church and went back to Tim’s house for lunch. I was beginning to come alive again. I don’t know why but I felt God was listening again. Good or bad he wanted to hear from me. I went home and took out a bible and began reading again. I read through the night making notes. I wrote poems like I hadn’t written in years.

I spent the next month or more getting myself back together. I stopped the dope and booze again. Called my first love from High School we talked and went out a few times. I thought maybe she was the one I was suppose to marry. After a long walk and talk we both came to agree that wasn’t what God wanted for either of us. We hung out as friends often. She helped get me through a lot.

At the same time God was bringing me back, Theresa was having her “Come to Jesus moment.” We got back together for a brief period. Francis had introduced us to one of my dearest friends. Frank Tomlinson. Frank is a former Old School LAPD Homicide detective. He had moved to the LAPD after being a cop in Kansas City where he had a hit placed on him by the mob. Frank stayed on the LAPD for 20-25 years. He and his partner still hold the record for the most Homicide cases closed. In his office was a picture of all the Detective in RHD. I remembering seeing one of Bob Kestler’s old best friends in the pictures. Telling myself as I looked that this will be interesting.. Frank had gone from hard ass cop to a biblical counselor. A transition that actually now makes since. As both investigate to solve a puzzle or a crime of the heart. I remember our first meeting and feeling so at ease. Even though we were facing the demise of our marriage. Frank comes back into play many times as this story continues. After only about two weeks of talking I moved back in with Theresa and the kids. Then she told me she was pregnant from the affair.

I tried my best to work through things but I was raging again. Theresa left one day to go talk to her ‘lover” told me all would be fine. She even gave me her wedding ring saying she loved me and would be back. Three hours later, all was over. She called me and said she wanted to talk. I went to our condo and she was standing there with her lover. I was told by both that we weren’t getting back together. That her lover “felt I had no right to raise his child” Theresa just sat there brain washed by the bull shit he was feeding her. She would look at me like I had never seen. The look was between fear and disgust for me.. I was messed up. Ready to start my life over so far away from all this shit. I had offers to move to Virginia, Costa Rica, even Bogotá to do computer work . All were very tempting to me but I couldn’t watch my kids be raised and abused by her lover.

I went back to my old landlord and asked to rent a different room. One of my co-workers from NetZero had taken my room. We all agreed it was cool for me to move back in. I was disappointed with God again. I called Frank and met with him. He simply said move on. It is over Theresa has made up her mind. Until she finds her heart with the truth that lays inside there you have nothing left with her. She doesn’t know love or responsibility. It is her time to rebel. Just pray for her. Pray you can find a way to forgive her.

I did as he said and moved on. I kept going to church. Tried to do what was right by the word. I didn’t do so great. I was lonely. I met with Frank a few more times. Than I just stuck my head into work. I would work 72 hours straight. As it was all I really had. I met a girl on line. Word of warning. Don’t always think a match is a match when it comes to internet dating site. This a complete hind sight statement.. We dated. The sex was decent. Nothing much to write home about yet we moved in together. I was basically having my affair as our divorce wasn’t final. Theresa came down one weekend to bring a seat for Dalton to eat at. I wasn’t there when she came by. My girlfriend was pissed that she showed up. Called me and I told her to just mellow.

The next day we went to church. It was the first time we had gone together. I felt uneasy as we went into church. Like I was crossing a line I shouldn’t be. Francis pointed this out to me at the end of service. We walked out and I introduced him to her. He looked at me and said. ”Don’t come back here.” I asked why. He said you’re no better than your wife. You’re not divorced yet you’re living with this girl. Great example for your kids.” We left and my girlfriend bitch’d the whole ride home. I knew what Francis had said was right. I didn’t say much as she raged on and on. I dropped her off and went to my buddies house. That family was the one Theresa had worked for when we had first been married. Scotty and I talked the afternoon away. I went back home late. Slept on the couch. Got up and went to work. Stayed at work until Friday. Crashing at the building or in my car. I had the kids that weekend. I picked them up as usual. Theresa looked different. Her “lover” had been in jail for some time now and was getting out. I had no idea what was going to happen that weekend. God again is mysterious.

My girlfriend and I fought most of the weekend. I was moving out as soon as I found a place. That was that. Scotty offered his couch and I accepted. I took the kids to church that Sunday when I got home there was a message from my brother in law. He told me to bring the kids to T’s mom’s house. Not our condo. Something had happened to Theresa. I tried calling several times to the house but there was no answer. Her mom wouldn’t answer her phone. I finally got a hold of her brother. He told me that Theresa had been hurt in a fight with her “Lover.” The cops were looking for him now. Seems he beat the shit out of her and tore the house up pretty good.

I took the kids over to Grandma’s as I pulled into the driveway I saw Theresa’s car there. I asked God to give the right words for her. Part of me so wanted to say. “Suits ya right, ya lying bitch.” I never said that, (that day.) Instead Theresa talked. She apologized. Told me what had happened. As I was getting ready to leave she asked if I would stay her friend. She missed having my friendship. She told me I was her best friend that the thought of loosing that was hurting her inside. I gave a very tentative “Sure”. It will take some time but sure.

The Road Back

I went back to my apartment with my girlfriend and ended the relationship. I packed up my life into a duffel bag and drove off to Scotty’s. He and I talked that night for a long time about love and God. How the two couldn’t exist apart from one another. He was going through his divorce as well. He told me I had a chance to keep the friendship with Theresa. That was more than he had. I called Frank the next day for a meeting. We met later in the week. I told him I had no idea what was going on. My anger was going away, I was able to forgive Theresa for everything. He looked at me with the detectives eyes. Asked how I came to that conclusion. I didn’t have an answer. I just knew it was time to let God do his part. As doing things my way seemed to screw things up worse. He laughed. Prayed with me and sent me on my way.

Theresa called me the next day and asked if I would meet her for lunch. She was treating. I said okay. We sat and talked the lunch hour away. She was healing up and the ultrasound showed no damage to the baby. I was relieved. As lunch ended she asked if I would start coming over for dinner and help put the kids to bed. This must have been a huge step for her. We laid down some ground rules. Main one being if she was playing me again, I will take the kids and leave her. I wasn’t doing this again.

We were on the road back. I would come over for dinner play with the kids and watch TV. Help put them to bed, then Theresa and I would talk. She would tell me about her day and how she felt her Dad was kicking her ass from heaven for what she did. We built our friendship and trust for one another back up over the next few months. I was falling in love with her all over. This time we built a new foundation through a lot of biblical counseling. Making God first in our lives and friendship. I moved back into our house when Theresa was about 7 months pregnant. It was so incredibly hard to sleep in the bed where she had her “Lover”. I remember how I sat in a tree across the street with a .308 rifle ready to kill her and him for what they did. Now I sat there praying that God give me his strength.

Work had started to suck for me. My boss was using heavily and her behavior was out of control. She walked into the center one day screaming at my team at the top of her lungs that we all were fornicating pieces of dung. Her words were worse. I quit that afternoon. I called Theresa and told her. She said “Thank God” So with no job or options for a job. I went home. We had bought a couples bible the week before and I was looking forward to just doing the days study with Theresa. That job kicked my ass. I was glad to be free for a little while. Theresa and I unfiled our divorce papers during that time as she was going to court dates for the assault charges on the dick head.

I got a new job a week or so later. It would send the family on another adventure. In this whole time of my life, I was laid out for what I committed to years earlier. God calls his children home and will discipline them. This was my time for forging. It was the hardest time of my life. The hardest, only God’s grace pulled us through. With that grace came redemption and new love for my wife and family. As well as a new love for our child to come. My Hope had come alive.

When the nightmare fades to the morning

2009-05-07T09:40:00.000-07:00

The nightmares came back again in the depths of sleep. Making my heart fade to being weak as I let my mind play the hell that it just doesn't seem to beat.

An argument explodes from the suppression of her soul. She screams tearing the scar open once more, I yell back believing I am justified in my response. I turn and see she has her bags packed as she is walking out the door.

I look around and my kids are laughing at her tears. Mocking her as she walks away. We are left there alone. The car pulls out the driveway. No further laughter is heard. I look at heir faces and simply see them looking back in fear.

Months pass in the nightmare within. No calls from her until one day. She calls to say that she has found what she is looking for. It is not us she needs. Speechless I close the cell phone, knowing her voice to not be heard again. There is nothing left to say.

I wake for a moment my body drenched in sweat. She is laying next to me breathing deeply. I lay my down again. The dream isn't done. No this nightmare just begun.

I come home to find my son is gone. He never came home from school. Actually he never made it to school. I ask my youngest what she saw. She laughs and says "Daddy he doesn't want to be here either." He is gone.

I get a phone call to come make an ID. I arrive to see my son's dead eyes staring back at me. A hole piercing where is heart once lived. No way to call his Mother and tell her. For she has gone to her life away from us.

I bury my son alone my other kids stripped from me. As his coffin lowers into the ground I weep. Tears flow down my cheeks. I stay there trembling. The grave workers gone. I begin to move the dirt to fill the hole. Shaking with each shovel full.

I sit alone his woobie in my hand now. Love gone. Life gone. I wake only to see first light. In my bed alone. I rise to walk out and I see my son smiling. I turn another corner and see my wife crying.

When the nightmare fades to morning we are suppose to rise and see it was just another bad dream. This morning it doesn't look like that as tears fill her eyes. She talks and the pain is there as she feels she failed. Or so it seems.

When the nightmare fades to morning.

Don't get Pissed just Re- Enlist

2009-05-05T09:55:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning in a foul ass mood. I was looking for a fight. I have no reason why. Just woke up pissed. Lately it seems like all we do is bleed money on a career change that has yet to offer any sustainable income. We have to bleed some more. Maybe that is what pissed me off. I don't know.

I sat down drank some coffee, smoked a few cigarettes. Wanting to stew in my anger. Where I would clinch my fists and release to the point where I would just pop like a cork. Funny thing happened on the way to that pop. Out of the blue a conversation my best friend and I had came to mind. Why get pissed, or stressed? Does it solve anything? The answer to both is no. People talk about going to their "happy spot" I went back to something I had written when traveling home over the weekend. I posted it previously. Talk about kicking your own ass out of a funk!!! I read and remembered that morning. The anger has faded. We are faced with what we are faced with.

Anger has a way of clouding up determination. It handicaps perseverence. It screws up ones resolve. It gives a foot hold. To allow evil to walk in a play with the idol hands that are wrapped up in rage. Not a good place to eh? That's what I thought.

Why get pissed? Just re-enlist.

This was from Saturday " Tree of Life"

2009-05-05T09:29:00.000-07:00

It’s about 3:00 am back home. I am sitting in DFW airport half asleep. My mind is on what the future may hold in store for those we love. As I sit DFW TV showed a commercial for people to respect and thank those that have served our country when they walk through the airport.
It almost had me tear up. You know the feeling when that lump in your throat happens? Your eyes begin to mist just a little. I looked over my shoulder to see if the 10-15 other people in the place saw my reaction. Not that I care if people see a grown man tear up in public.. No I was looking to see if they had any reaction. Granted it is almost 5:00 am local time but they all sat oblivious. Except one older woman who looked away as the commercial played. She made eye contact with me as a tear rolled down her face. Smiling she rubbed it away asking me to forgive her for being emotional so early.

I told her there was no need to ask for that. Her Husband had been killed almost five years earlier in the sand box. She was flying back to So Cal to see his grave marker as their Anniversary is tomorrow. I asked her what branch her husband served in. Softly she replied he was a Marine out of the 1/7 a unit that my family and a group of friends had “adopted” back in 2005 when we were living in So Cal.

I told her about how I have a couple of really good friends out of the 1/7, how I remembered that deployment as they suffered terrible loss on that tour of duty. Her eyes sank to look off into the carpet focusing on a memory of her Husband. The commercial came on again bringing her back to that tearing state. Through the tears she asked who I knew. I gave her a couple of names. She looked over at my eyes half smiling, half crying. I gave her my name as well. Folks, there are little things we do in this life that we never understand the magnitude of when are doing them. Part of the adoption of the deployed unit was writing letters to those that had asked for us too. We also wrote things to the families back home. Myself and one of my other buddies wrote the letters home after we received death notices. Sad thing is, I have no memory of the letter I had written to her.

As I had written about 75 of them that year between the 1/7 and 3/4. All were personally written letters of gratitude and condolence for their loss.

She had received one of those letters. Her five year old was waking up. As she laughed and cried about the letter. As little boys do he cuddled up to his mom asking why she was crying. She introduced me to him, the little man reached out and shook my hand. I knew he never met his father at this point. That flood gate between the heart and mind opened and I realized who was sitting there with me. Folks I won’t give names as I am not a reporter. I knew though. I knew what I had wrote to her when I was asked to send the letter as well. I ended that letter with a little piece of scripture. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire coming is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12)

She took out a photo and card she was taking to the grave marker tomorrow. I looked at it closely at the bottom of it was the same verse. Followed by a sentence that read. “When I lost you my friend and lover I had lost all hope for our future. When I gave birth and saw you in our sons eyes, I began to hope again. Here is a picture of our son now. I miss you. I love you. I thank you for giving me such a piece of you, that has shown me that God can restore. "

Her flight began to board and they walked away. I just sat back collecting myself. As I write this now. I am like her smiling and crying at the same time. There are battle lines drawn in this world. This morning while I was dog ass tired after a hell of an intense week. I was shown once again that the team on fight is the ultimate universal underdog. I read the end of book bible we win. What is the small thing you can do today to show some one a little taste of the tree of life?

Patrick T. McAlister

Excerpts

2009-04-24T21:34:00.000-07:00

The Day I walked away From Church

As I went through these past couple of years I would leave Valley Point church go out on my own and do my fighting in the battle for hearts. Part of me still believed that conventional church with the nice steeple and stained glass would win out. Yet each time I went out to help some one I saw how churches failed more and more people. Then the day came when I saw how the power of a church and its leaders destroyed a young woman, I tell this story leaving names out of the victim and the accused. As well as the church and the leadership that covered up the crime.

A young woman came to my office one day obviously beaten and hurt. When others in our HR area told her to come see them she simply said I will talk with Patrick only. I took her away from all the drama. She told me that hours earlier her boyfriend came home drunk. Let himself into her apartment and demanded sex. She is the daughter of a retired pastor. She denied him his request. He got pissed and began beating her until she gave in. As she described this I called my detective friend here. Asked him to meet me with his female partner. I asked the young woman about her boyfriend. She told me he was a youth pastor at a local church. That this was the second time he raped her. First time she was seventeen and he had drugged her to do it.

Yet she stayed with this guy as she felt she loved him. Plus her father really approved of him. She winced more and more. I noticed she was beginning to have a rather wide pool of blood show up on the front and back of her pants. I put her in my truck and drove to the hospital. Called my buddy to meet us there. As we walked into the ER. I discreetly told the receptionist who I was and whom I was bringing in. She took us back to a room immediately my buddy and his partner showed up about 2 minutes later. The female detective stayed in the room as the nurses and doctors began working on the young lady. I got the name of the boyfriend from the detective. They went to the girls apartment to arrest him. As she had said he passed out when he got done beating and raping her. My buddy left. I asked to go as I wanted to talk with the young man. He strongly suggested that I stay at the hospital. Actually he ordered me to stay. He knew if I went he would have way more paperwork to fill out. Plus a lot of explaining to do to his boss.

I stayed at the hospital for the morning. The detective came out and told me that the young woman would more than likely never have kids as she was torn up inside. It looked as if she was sodomized by a glass bottle. Which was then broken inside of her vaginal cavity tearing into the uterus, by another type of foreign object. The girl was resting and in shock. The family had been called. They were on the way down. We were asked by the young woman to be in the room when her family arrived.

The mother and father arrived. Mom took one look at her daughter after she told them what happened and walked out of the room. The father (Retired Pastor) looked at his battered daughter the said something that just about had me kill the guy where he was standing. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just gave in to his demands. Now you have ruined his career as a pastor. You have disgraced the church, your family and especially me.” I got up to beat the shit out of this piece of trash with enough force that my chair embedded itself into the wall. The female detective got between him and I. She whispered in my ear “Let it go.” I looked at her knowing she was right. We went back into the room. The detective dismissed the father putting the young women in protective custody. These detectives and I have done this a few times now. I left and got a safe place ready for the young woman when she got out of the hospital. The boyfriend had been arrested at the apartment. We sent a crew over to clear the apartment out of all her stuff.

I called Jose and my wife. Both going wow. E-mailed Frank he had a few choice comments about the father. I then called Dr. Barry drove up to his house for a cigar to talk. I wanted to go buy a bottle of Jack one the way. As Barry and I talked he calmed me down slightly. Between Barry and Frank they had me focus on the girl and her wounds and her heart. I talk with this young woman daily still. In the months that have passed I have seen enough to make me puke when I think about it. The boyfriend was released from Jail. NO CHARGES FILED!!!! The church and the girls father buttered someone’s pocket in the D.A.’s office. The young man was allowed to continue as a Pastor in the church. He walked away scott free Given his lively hood back. All the while the young lady is still healing from the injuries within her. Her heart destroyed by her family and boyfriend. She rails against God for letting this happen some days. Knowing that God let it happen not understanding his bigger purpose in why. I don’t know that answer any more than she does. A few weeks after all this happened I got a phone call from a man. He asked if I was the Smokin Chaplain. I said yes. He sad he just wanted to call and let me know that he had broken the nose of the father when he told him what had happened while playing golf. I laughed. Told him thank you and hung up.

My wife and I were still going to Valleypoint@Pines to hear Dr. Barry. I would look in the room and out of 60 people there were maybe 4 warriors in the place. Barry had heart surgery and was on leave. The final straw came on that leave. The Jr. pastor and servant leaders had come to a decision based on conjecture and hyperbole that Barry had to go. He wasn’t building the church the way they wanted. As their weren’t more asses in the pews on Sunday. Dr. Barry with the team Chaplain for the AFL2 (Arena Football League) Spokane Shock As well as several other organizations. He was in the community ministering daily. We all have faults if you think you don’t go walk on water for me. Then I will believe you. In regards to Barry it all came down in a whirlwind. One week he tells me he has a meeting with the servant leaders, then he and his wife Ginny were having a garage sales for the next couple of weekends. First weekend passed and all was cool. The next weekend we walk up the driveway to see that the house was now being sold. I let a what the fuck slip out my mouth. Sorry Ginny!! Barry looked at my Theresa and I with a tear in his eye told us he was being forced to resign the next morning.

Theresa cried the whole way home as it was like she was loosing her father all over again. I was pissed people. Actually I was raged. I was going into church the next day to hear Barry say good bye. I wanted to walk in with a freaking AK 74 and just humble people… The Jr. Asshole in charge stood next to me acting as if he was my friend. Wondering if he should have one of the cops in the church sit next to me. I told him it wouldn’t matter. “If I go off. It will be ugly. VERY UGLY!!!!!” Barry resigned that morning. Seething I left my wife stayed behind and all chips fell in place. As she walked in from meeting with the Jr. limp dick, couldn’t fight his way out a douche shower and his bitch of a wife. Theresa looked at me crying. These people had used my wife and I to get Barry fired for their gain. Eight years earlier I would have gone into the church the following Sunday and decked everyone on staff. God calmed me down as did Jose and Frank. Barry’s wife in her graciousness even brought my anger level down.

Yet for the next two months I watched a grown man loose all. His home, his vocation, friends, most of all his faith. He prayed that God would just kill him in his sleep. Dr. Barry and his wife asked that we not act on any of our motives. As part of the resignation package included severance pay that and benefits that they would loose if the Servant leaders felt Barry didn’t keep up his side of the deal. People, I am not one that likes to sit on my hands when my friends are being driven to the point of insane statements. I get even more upset when the work of a few has hurt so many. People would come in and out of the house as my wife and I would help them pack their home as they got rid of almost everything they owned. The day he shut the door on his trailer to begin his journey to TX with his whole life fitting in one 24 foot trailer was the day I went home, after the leaders had come up to the house with their spouses. To me this was the most tactless thing I have ever seen. Pretty much driving the sword they put through his heart to the hilt and twisting it.

Opening my bible searching the book of Acts for what the Lord called church. What we were doing wasn’t it. I would speak to Barry and Frank often. Deciding it was time to just start my own group of believers. Conventional church was done in my heart. I would not step into another one ever again. I had an awakening within. God was showing me again what his purpose was. Why he had sent his Son down to earth to die on the cross for our sins. My desire was elevated to a level I have never known. My wife will say this scared her while at the same time it started turning her on. I had a war to fight. My heart filled with a purpose. People backing us. Her lil Scot/Irish husband was walking into danger again. Frank calls this the “Stud Factor” when we are in the presence of the almighty we are hotter to the women that love us. It’s a God gift thing.” His words folks not mine.

Barry is now in TX still broken. His fight is slowly coming back on some days. Others he is off in a land I don’t I ever found when I was using drugs.. When we talk it fuels a fire within that some how the tears left behind don’t quench. After searching scripture. Then reading “The Shack” www.theshack.com. (To all reading this book I highly suggest that you read “The Shack.”) I was brought to a conclusion that will ultimately offend many. I don’t give a rip. Like Jose, I have no problem telling you are wrong when you are. I have no problem calling a spade a spade. The conclusion both my wife and I came to is this.

Church is big business. It is a fill the seats with people, preach at them until they put their 10% in the basket kind of place. Most Pastors on the pulpit fill the congregations with some fluffy pie in the sky bull shit about God that doesn’t call on anyone’s sin. It just lets people know they are getting a great show on the Evangelical side of church. Once tithe is taken and service is over. The alter calls are made and accepted. They ( the Modern Mega Churches and small ones a like) go to count their money making sure that the salaries of the guy in the pulpit and his minions are paid.

It has been my experience as well as that of others. That when the truly hurting show up asking for help. From asking for help in paying a high electric bill. To asking for help with greater issues such as abuse, neglect, Providing funds to their own community to keep a valued community out reach open. Their check books are some how empty. I have seen countless women and men turned away in despair simply because some one wouldn’t help them because they didn’t believe in God at the time they asked for help.

How would my life have turned out if when I walked into church for the first time I was asked to leave? How would others I have known turned out like Todd, Frank, or Jose. If they were treated the same way? As a Marine we live by two words. Semper Fidelis. It means “Always Faithful.” Faithful to God, Country and Corps. It means you are faithful to those that can’t fight for themselves. It means you live and love each day. By dying each day to your own ways as you pursue the heart of God. His calling for your own life!! Then taking it that next step where you are fighting with him to bring his message to those around you.. Seminaries are full of people thinking they teach this. They don’t!!! You look into church in America and see that the motto is more “Semper Perfidious.” Meaning always faithless or treacherous. They want your money. Not your heart. All in the name of Christ Jesus.

In the thirty years of my journey to Lazarus. Where I finally heard the Lord shout “Wake UP” I have come to realize what church is as YhWh intended way back before he even gave us the garden. In my heart of hearts church is fellowship. It is where you love even when it hurts physically and emotionally. It isn’t a building with stained glass and steeples on top. It is within us. YhWh breathed it into us when he formed us from dirt. Church is LOVE. Love can’t exist outside of relationship. It just isn’t possible. You will not see me or my wife behind a pulpit preaching at you. You will not see us holding our hand out asking for money.

Just Venting

2009-04-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

This morning I walked away from a 18 year professional journey. That in the end has burned me out. I love a challenge!! As most know anytime, anywhere I will push myself beyond what I was the day before. In the time of my employment with my last employer we opened our home to some one that burned us. I met some of the greatest people I have ever known. I also got the shit kicked out of me mentally.

To those that where in the inner circle. The fight was great!! I enjoyed most days. Now though it is time for me to be there for my family. To see my kids get their dreams. Not see a company get richer as they remove the hearts out of their employees. Am I bitter??? HELL YES!!! Empty promises taught me a great lesson. Don't do the same to my kids or my wife.

So I close a chapter that could take up many pages with a quote. "A Manager does things right. A Leader does the right thing!!" I chose the latter of the two!!

Patrick

Chapter 2

2009-04-22T12:01:00.000-07:00

Chapter Two
Ten Years Later

The ten years that passed from that day were what some call a wasted youth. I call it the foundational years. By the end of the long decade, I was done with the partying, the cheating, the lying, and most all of done with trying to be something I wasn’t. I had become a Marine in those ten years. I served my time in the Corps, not as much as I would have liked. None the less I earned the title. As I take you all through this journey those ten years will come into play again. For the most part I wanted to wipe that entire time frame out of my memory banks. Now as I write more and more that history comes back to paint whom I have become as a Man, a Chaplain, a Counselor, most of all how it formed me into the husband I am now. The next story is one other experience in that ten year time frame that for some reason just stands out most in my mind. It will cover briefly what it was like for me as a teen. As well as how one moment can impact some one twenty years later.

A Soft Place to Land

As I write this book memories once erased are coming back to me. Thanks not only to the introspective way in which I am writing but the marvel of a technology called Face Book. For those of you that have been under a rock some where on Mars. Face Book is a social Networking site. Social networking is the internet’s equivalent to a local pub. Where after years of being away you walk in and start seeing old friends and catching up on the years. My Twenty year high school reunion was coming up. I got an e-mail to join the group the NPHS class of 88. Talk about having a floodgate of memories coming out!!! Folks it was like the morning after a bad night of cheap tequila and even cheaper Mexican food!!

One day while goofing off on the site after the reunion passed I saw a name and a picture that about had me cry with joy and remorse. In those ten years I tried to block out there were moments when I acted as a gentleman. As I stared at her picture, I began to remember the day. The day when Angie walked into my classroom. Angie and I were talking again on line about what life was like currently for us. She was going through a hard time. To say the least!! Some how a question came up about that asked “what is you’re one memory of the other?” This is pasted from an e-mail she had sent me on the topic.

“I don't remember a lot from those days and I wasn't even the one smokin. However, I remember you being happy, funny and genuine. I don't know the Pat you turned into for a brief time. Interesting how I was not in your life during the "Womanizer" stint. Anyway, we had a class together after I moved out from my Dad's I don't remember what class but when I left my Dad's to live with my grandma
and both of my parents would not talk to me, it was a very lonely time. I missed several weeks of school and my first day back, I walked into my first class (I didn’t even have my own clothes yet so I felt like a bum) For what ever reason I had not been there before but you guys were already in session so I had already missed several classes and everyone had their seats and everything already, I was really nervous about walking into an established class my first time. I remember walking in, seeing your face, being immediately at ease and as I was trying to figure out where I was going to sit, I found an open desk and you came and sat behind me with your books and all. It was total relief! It was like the saying a sight for sore eyes. You were my safe place to land.

Since, that day I felt an unknown, unseen connection to you, that even you didn't know about. You had no idea what you had done for me that day, but I always carried it in my heart.
I don't know the Pat you were for a while, but I know your soul. What you do and what you are can be two very different things. ;)

Here is the Paul Harvey’s “The Rest of the story” version as I remember it.
I was sitting with my friends and hadn’t seen her in years. She came into class. Went to the teacher and gave her note to him with her head down. I looked at her as she wouldn’t make eye contact. Then she looked up again at me and I smiled. I could see she felt so out of place. All the while my friends were making wise ass comments about her. The girls in class were talking shit about her. Let me try to paint a picture of what she looked like back then. She was tall about 5’ 9’,.Slender with a two really big blessings from God riding high on her chest. She had long hair. Her eyes are the kind that when you look into them they take you down to her soul. As she finished signing in the teacher sent her to find a seat. The people in class were just being ass holes. I had been out of school as a run away a couple of month’s prior and remembered how bad I felt when I walked into a class that I hadn’t been in. Looking at people as they whispered shit about me. Here I was watching the same thing happen to some one else. I told one of my buddies that was eluding to what he would do with her “blessings” if given the chance. Too shut his mouth. I did this about two inches away from his face with anger in my eyes. He knew this look well and backed down. Angie took a seat off to the side sighing as she sat down. I looked around the class disgusted at what I saw from these people. I grabbed my books and went and sat behind her. If anyone was going to say anything to her that day to make her feel even worse. I was going to tear them a new ass. Angie and I would talked off and through school. I never once did or said anything to her about the fights that happened from my actions that day. I just made sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

We both went different directions in life she moved to Texas with her boyfriend. I became a cocked out, pot smoking drunken womanizer. In retrospect I was one of the people that I had stood up to on her behalf. I saw her again when we were in our early twenties. I had just gotten out of the Marines. Went to Denny’s restaurant with some friends and she was the waitress. We exchanged pleasantries. She looked the same. Her eyes were the death of me folks. We paid our check and left. When we got out to the car and turned on the radio a song came on that since the moment I heard it has always reminded me of her. The song is called “Heaven in your Eyes” The lyrics are simple 80’s music from the Top Gun sound track. One of the lines Is “You gave me to time to find out what my heart was looking for.. In your eyes… I never want this feeling to end… It took some time to find the light but now I realize, I can see the heavens in your eyes.”

Eighteen years later she sends that e-mail and I listen to the song again as I write this story. I realize just what a close friendship can form between two hearts when hardly any words were ever spoken. That day when I did the right thing by sitting next to her, to make her feel safe was just another moment when God brought some one into my life so I would know my own heart and what he wanted from me. Angie and I speak almost daily now. She is one of my most valued friends. Male or Female. For one big reason. No matter what I did in the time after that day she doesn’t judge me. She knows my heart. Folks read what she sent me again.. She has allowed me to know her heart as well. Like she wrote it is an “unspoken bound” that has finally been spoken. For those of you reading that may not understand the concept of a male/female relationship. They do in fact exist and sex has nothing to do with it. This isn’t like the movie “When Harry Met Sally” where men and women can’t be friend because sexual tension will always prevail in the relationship. People that is just Hollywood bullshit. This is about YhWh and his design for our lives and our desires to be known as he knows us at the deepest level of the hearts he breathed into us..

To finish off this lil ditty let me tell you all one more thing about us. The day we spoke again after all those years was when YhWh knew Angie needed that “soft place to fall again.” I have moments like this that will unveil themselves throughout this book. I stand in absolute dumb founded awe of our Lord. Only He could fashion a quilt of life with so many intersections all to his Glory. Using some one as screwed up as me or my other friends. Each day I pray Angie finds Love like I have. Each day I see her growing closer to it and I smile like a teenage bad boy that by the grace of God. Turned into a real good man.

When the call began

I hit the road in the summer of 1992 working as a Mover. I had a great boss that taught me a new trade. I enjoyed that year. I was never home long. The road was filled with adventure in my mind. Most days spent busting my ass fitting the lives of people in a semi truck. For the first time in ten years, I had gone more than two months without a fist fight. My head was clearing from the fog I had inflicted upon it. My heart still ached from lost loves. When we would be driving through the night, I would stare out the window to skies filled with stars. Pondering if I would ever love without screwing it up. Would any one ever love me? Would I ever be able to escape the mistakes of my past?

Inevitably, I would find myself thinking about God. Even talking to my boss about religion; Asking him how his life in the Catholic church had effected him? Sharing stories, back and forth of our youth. On weekends we would come home. He would go pick up his youngest daughter from his ex. The man would be alive when he was around his daughter. I had never seen a man so wild about being a dad. He had two older daughters from his first marriage that had gone in life. His youngest though, took him from his mid forties back down to his twenties. It was infectious being around the both of them.

Our runs became shorter over the year. I started renting a room from a couple back in my home town. Weekends were still filled some hard drinking. My buddies and I would get together, doing the things 20 something men would do. The partying may have been fun at the time, but I was feeling very alone. Looking in the mirror at times disgusted me. It had been two years since I was with a woman. Since I stopped working in the porn industry.

Yes you did read that right. I spent some time working security and doing lighting in an industry that made women objects. By the time I got out of that work. I had seen too many beautiful women destroyed by men. Either, through drugs or abuse. My last day there is forever etched in my mind. Indulge me a moment why I explain. It will help tell the story of how God started calling me. I worked as the security guard for a popular actress. We were coming out of a strip club at about 3:00 am. I had kicked out a patron earlier in the night for offensively touching my friend/actress. We came out the back doors to the streets of El Paso. The world stopped. Three shots were fired at us. I covered my friend with my body as the patron ran towards us shooting wildly. I rolled over un-holstered my firearm and fired back. My right arm burning like a son of a bitch. There are “Oh Shit” moments in life and this was one becoming one quickly. The gap closed between the patron and myself. This guy was coming for blood. I had hit him with two rounds to the upper left side of his chest and shoulder. Yet he kept coming. I realized he wasn’t going to stop until he had killed both my friend and I. My firearm stove piped. Jamming the weapon. The distance was down to about 8 feet now. This guy couldn’t seem to hit the broadside of barn with his shots. As he got real close I jammed my fist into the bridge of nose. Shattering it on impact. My friend finally got up and ran back into the club.

This psycho and I went at it fighting like I had never done before. His punches had some punishing effect to them. He was screaming he was going to kill me. As he tried to bite at my face. The fight ended about ten seconds later. He laid dead on the streets of El Paso. His esophagus crushed. I fell to the ground. Just looking at how death had come over his face. His hazel eyes staring at me. It was quite a profound moment for me. As I stared at his dead eyes, I thought I should feel remorse of some sense of loss for the guy. Yet to me he was just a stupid fool that couldn’t get his pecker wet with a $500.00 a lap dance stripper. I sat there at least 10 minutes just staring at his dead eyes.

The owner and his crew watched the last moments of the fight. He came up to me checking to see how bad I was. The Constable was there a few minutes later. I had known him from when I had lived in El Paso shortly after getting out of the Marines.

He looked at me and the guy on the ground. Took me to his car and had me sit in the back of the old crown vic. My whole body hurt like hell. I was bleeding from my mouth, my arm, and my ribs just felt like hell fire. The next hours were a blur. Flashing lights. Paramedics and firemen checking me over. The dancer I was protecting came out and sat with me. She had been shot in the leg and left arm as well. As they loaded her in the ambulance, she looked at me, smiled then said something I never expected from her.
“Patrick my daddy use to tell me No greater Love have a man than he lay his life down for a friend. Thank you for saving me.”

I was hauled off to the Constables jail. Close to the border of El Paso and New Mexico. Ready to spend the rest of my life in jail. Two days after being put in jail, the constable came in opened the door, took my hand and shook it. With a big ol’ smile he said the words I didn’t expect. “I concluded my investigation. You are free to go. No charges will be filed your actions were committed in the act of protecting human life. By all witness accounts you acted as best you could in the situation.” I sat there going what the hell did you just say? He just lifted me up took me to his car and dropped me off at the border of New Mexico. He handed me my belongings. Including my side arm still jammed. I told him he could keep it. He handed me a couple of hundred dollars as well. Telling me to go start a new life. You did what you had to do to save yourself and that woman.

I spent the next six month hitch hiking around the southwest. The desert had a way of making me heal. The high mountains of Cloud Croft New Mexico to the Unitas and Wasatch ranges were therapeutic. If you have never experienced a summer thunderstorm in these mountains you are missing out in one of God’s greatest shows. I remember one night I was in Cloud Croft New Mexico. A mountain thunder storm came in while I was chopping wood for the cabin I was living in. I climbed to the top of the cabin and just watched the sky rage. I found myself crying not out of fear but out of the beauty I was seeing. The thunder was so intense the little cabin would shack. Trees would go down as lightning hit them. It wreaked Havoc across the whole mountain. It brought me to so many levels in those two hours. After some more time of wondering and fighting throughout the south west. I went back home a survivor of the streets and the wilderness. Taking us all back to where I left off.

I continued to do the moving gig. Basically working and playing hard. One night I was out with the boys. I met a young girl that just captured me. It wasn’t the usual sexual one night stand. I was longing to find real love. I misplaced that longing onto her. We dated a few times. I went over to her house one night to surprise her with some flowers and a poem. When I got there she was in bed with another man. He gave me a one finger salute as he was going to town on her. Again a rage that lays within me came to the surface. I shoved him out the bedroom window. Beating the shit out of him on the front lawn. The cops arrived. Pulling me off, I hit a couple of them as well. There I was again sitting in jail. Stitches in my shoulders, arms, and face. I don’t know who spoke on my behalf, to this day I have my suspicions but he never admits to it. Long story short. Charges were dropped Saturday morning. I was free to go home.

One of my buddies picked me up from the jail and gave me a ride home. The couple I was living with looked at me as I walked in the door. I said hello and went up to my room to sleep. I woke that evening, going downstairs to eat with the family. They asked what happened. I simply replied “Got in a fight.” They told me if I was to stay in the house I was attend church with them, when I wasn’t on the road. I agreed out of pure defeat.

Part II
The First Taste

The next morning the family woke me to get ready for church. As we pulled into the parking lot of once had been my private school in my early childhood, a calming yet agitated effect came over me. I walked in bandages on my hands, eyes black and stitches showing. To that body I must have been the scariest things they have ever seen. I sat in the back of the sanctuary. The choir sang “Amazing Grace” I remember standing up to sing the song. People looking at me with a look of “what the French toast” I lifted my voice with the choir. With each verse the calmness replacing the agitation. The male that I lived with whispered in my ear. “Man you can sing” I smiled. My face hurting when I did so. The song ended and the pastor stood up for his sermon. He spoke on John 15:13 I sat up in my seat as he read the verse. “ No greater love hath a man than this, that a man lay his life down for a friend.” He spoke of Christ and how he laid his life down for all of us on the cross. Going into detail about the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. This Preacher could lay it down folks. He had me tuned in like a guided missile. Actually the Trinity was using this man to get through to my heart. As he ended the sermon he made his alter call.

With tears rolling down my face I walked that isle. Stood and asked for my salvation. I was trembling as the preacher prayed over me. I felt something I had never felt before. Hope. The pastor and I talked after service. I went home wanting more of the truth.

I went back to work that Monday excited like a little kid. My boss and I talked as we drove to Carson city. We were delivering for a family that the husband was a Vietnam vet. As we unloaded he would just look at me and smile. I felt kind of odd. We stopped for lunch. He looked at me smiling “Marine you look like the hand of God has come down and touched you.” I never told him I was a Marine. I said “what do you mean, the bruises and stitches?” No. he replied. The smile you have and the lightness of your movements. He and I talked for a bit. He told me his story after coming home from Vietnam. How he just couldn’t fit in. How he spent more time in bars and jails then he did living. He gave me what is coined as a “testimony” My boss listened as intently as I did. His story was riveting. He finished with how he found God. Then what God has done in his life since. He prayed with me as we finished unloading and were buckling up the truck. The prayer ended with him asking God to always show me the way of the Warrior. That my heart is the greatest weapon God had given me. I opened my eyes and raised my head with tears in my eyes. I thanked him, for his prayers. We went on to Oregon from there. The whole rest of the trip I prayed. Asking God to explore my heart and use me as he sees fit. I gave him my life. My boss smiled even more than usual on that trip.

We got home the following week. I called my first real girlfriend. Before meeting my wife she was the closest thing I had known to being in love. She was heading to Santa Barbara that day she wanted to know if I wanted to go. I said sure. We caught up on the years we had been apart. I told her what happened over the last two weeks. She laughed and cried as we drove. When we got to town we parked up on Main Street and began walking. We wondered into a Christian book store. I felt uneasy in there for some reason. She went through bibles, picking one up that was small leather bound. She asked if I liked it. I opened it and looked at the print and maps and said “sure” she took it up to the counter and bought it for me.

I was taken back by the gesture. She was a devout Catholic girl. Yet, she had just purchased the New King James version of the bible for me. She smiled at me like she always did. Telling me “Patrick I have always loved you. You hurt me so many times in school cheating on me, yet to this day I love you for the man I am starting to see now. We will never be together as a couple again. But you will always have my heart and my friendship. No matter where or when.” I was speechless. We went and had lunch and I still couldn’t say a word to her. I just looked at her. Finally she looked up at me. Putting her hand to the bible she said isn’t this whole book about love and forgiveness. I shrugged my shoulders and said I guess. She came back with “I forgive you for all you did to me.” Again I sat speechless.

We finished out the day in a tee-shirt shop. She found a shirt that read “It is always better to be a Smart Ass, than a Dumb Shit.” Laughing she said well this fits you as well.

Within a month I was looking at attending seminary. My pastor had written several schools about me. One finally said they would accept me. Southwest Baptist Theological Seminary in Scottsdale AZ. They sent me a letter of invite to start school in the spring of that year. I visited the school. Figured what the heck why not. I had been reading the bible every day since Cheryl bought it. I was into this big time. Then the road turned. I am not the smartest person you will ever meet; take my word on this though. God is mysterious in all he does for his purposes. As great as God is mysterious Satan is devious.

Chapter 1 The Road to Lazarus

2009-04-22T11:54:00.000-07:00

Chapter One
The hand sign of Love

The road to Lazarus house has been a thirty eight year journey for me. A road where I have often been told I am worthless. That essentially my life meant shit to those closest to me. Where my parents would have rather put me up for adoption then let me stay in their home. It is an evolution of moments that have transpired to create the man I am today. A man that will fight and die so others may find the love that heals their wounded souls.

Now as I sit in my home with my family I trace it back to the moment when Love became the one thing, I knew I most desired more knowledge of. Yet I knew nothing about it on that day. I was thirteen years old. Trying to find what I was as a boy turning into man and what being a man really meant. On this day one of the most beautiful girls I had ever known asked me to come home from school with her.

We both had friends with us, that safety in numbers thing. While at her house we “made out” This girl was delicate and sweet. Her kiss rocked my world so to say. Before we got too far into things her mother came home and we dispersed. We decided to go for a walk and talk.

In my hometown of Newbury Park, CA one of the main streets is Reino road. Her parents’ home was east of the road tucked away in quiet suburban neighborhood. We had walked up from her house to a little bridge in the road right before Michael drive. Here I was still reeling in what a teenage boys body does. We stopped and sat on the side of the bridge. It was the moments that followed that changed my heart forever. It also started a battle within that I fought for years. The battle that asked, if I would ever be good enough as a man.

She smiled and laughed and talked about her life. How she knew sign language. I asked her to show me what she knew. She took my hand with the gentlest touch I have ever felt. Positioned my hand to what felt like a really awkward position. She did the same with her own hand. Looking at me, I had no idea what she was thinking. She held our hands up and said “This means I love you.” She followed up with a kiss on my cheek. Then she said the words to me again. I can’t recall exactly what I did at that moment. I can recall what happened. She broke through a wall I had on my heart. All the pain from over powering parents melted away. Scars that a thirteen year old should never have seemed healed.

I had no words for her after that. I went home and instead of focusing on the truth of the moment when she showed me the symbol of Love. I went about like a jack ass talking about the “make out” session. I never forgave myself for that until many years later. It was the moment I first wounded a human heart. Either by force or by a lie. When I got home and met up with my friends, I casted her as not the beauty she was. No I made her a physical entity. As you read on you will see this pattern often in my life on this road.

She hardly spoke to me after that. I can’t speak for her, I know I was drowning in a ton of self doubt. I still vividly remember Her eyes, when she held my hand she let me into her heart. I will never forget that day.

Our lives were never that close again. I can remember days when I wasn’t coked out or stoned that I would look at her in the halls. So much beauty on the outside, but I felt her heart ached. That, somehow she was deeply wounded. Not by my actions. However, something had happened that took that amazingly graceful heart that showed my hand how to say “I Love you.” I never heard her sing again. I don’t think she ever heard me sing again either. Nor did I think she wanted too. We have both lived. I wonder where she is. I have sent her e-mails in the past that didn’t get returned. Last time any one said anything about her was about 1998. That saddens me now. Although it also inspires me in who I am to my wife and family. As well as how I counsel people now.

I hope one day to talk with her again. To say thank you. To let her know just how grateful I am to her. That I wish I could erase the moments when I spoke lies of her. Instead show her the poem I wrote for her as a thirteen year young man. That poem has long been lost, too a life led out of fear of being known as soft. The whole purpose of this book is to tell the stories of those that have helped me understand “The Lord of Lords”. That we all bare his image in who we are. She is the one that started it all. Laurie, thank you for that day. I wish you all the hope and joy your heart can handle.

Oh Boy.. Let's see how the audiance responds.

2009-04-22T10:46:00.000-07:00

I have spent a life time looking for what Love means. From the family I grew up in. To the beds of many where I thought sex was Love. That didn't work out so well. I have spent the last 16 years married to a woman that has shared the journey of knowing love with me. Man did we screw it up at times didn't we. There is no one else I would have taken the journey with though!!!

If you take the time to listen to this song. You will see what is the best explanation. "It wouldn't be love if it didn't hurt a little... if you think any different it wouldn't be love." I am in the process of writing a book. I am thinking I will post parts of that book here on this blog. Love involves risk and vulnerability. Both are dangerous to us. I like that about both. Some people have read the book in full. For those of you that haven't, I hope you find something that helps you find Love and all it brings within the next few posts.

Introduction

“We have all been wounded. We were just shot with different caliber guns.”
(Frank Tomlinson)

Simple words from a man that has impacted my life in such profound ways. The “Road to Lazarus House” is the story of life. It contains the stories of many people that have had a part in making me a better husband, better friend, and over all a warrior that finally found the war he was meant to fight.

Lazarus House Ministries is a ministry for abused women. Actually there is a lot more detail to it. We are basically the last hope for abused women. They have gone through the legal system where it failed them as well as their safety. They have gone to counseling from traditional therapy to pastoral counseling. Most, I have found were told that the beating would stop if they were just more submissive. That the situation they are in is the way God intended their life to be. These women are wounded on all levels. I have seen the wounds that ignorance leaves.

When they come to us it is by a forceful intervention. A small group of detectives, former abused women, and a couple of Marines that know the system has failed. Yet they took the job because they wanted to help. By doing what is right. Not always what is legal. All these individuals are great friends and warriors. I love each of them more than I can say in words. They are men and women of honor and integrity. Each one of these people carry their own wound as well. We have all fought. Each one of us carries a battle earned scar. Individually when you look at those involved in this ministry you wouldn’t see much. Collectively you would see a cadre that depending if you were friend or enemy, would make you laugh your ass off if called friend. If you are on the other side. Lets just say your sphincter will pucker!!!

We are all Biblicists. What does that mean?? Simple we use the scriptures to guide us. As it is the one book that tells the greatest love story. We believe in Gods unending and amazing grace for we have all been taken out of hell. We rebel against conventional “Institutional Christianity” as we have all seen first hand the damage that can occur when some ones safety is brushed off by those that are more worried about getting their salary covered. Then they are about actually getting out of their institution to help, literally the most broken of God's image bearers.

By the Grace of God alone we exist to save lives. By healing the wound, from inside a person’s heart. By exposing our own hearts and our bodies as we walk right into the middle of a man beating a woman and her children.. Like anything else we have our wins and our loses. We just don’t stop fighting. Physically, Spiritually, nor emotionally. Life is a gift bathed in riches that can only be understood from our hearts.

I hope as you take the time to read this book, you enjoy the stories that are light hearted. May the hard stories make you stand up in your own community to fight for those that have never been fought for. My life is just part of the greater story. It goes to show how God can and will use anyone, anytime, anywhere for His own purpose!!!!

If this book and the stories within offend you. We make no apologies. Truth has a way of stinging at times.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

A time with you

2009-04-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

You have been speaking to me today in many ways. Now you bring this song back to the front of mind its lyrics rising from my heart. Just like you used them six years ago when you called me out of a small office onto that stage. Surrounded by people we didn't know. You called this family onto you. As we have talked today you show me more and more just what it means to call on your name as my Saviour, my friend, my everything.

As I watched the re-enactments of just what punishment you endured for me I weep at just how brutal my sin was on your skin. The images have made my wife cry heavily. They stunned me into a silence once more. Where Wow was about all that I could say. As tears fell down my own cheeks. I could only imagine what happened that day. I can only thank you by living this life knowing that I am not even close to be worthy but you love me anyway.

That day seems like just hours ago right now. On the stage with Steve looking at me saying it was time. I was scared to death that moment. I had not been on a stage in years. Yet when the piano and guitars started playing you gave me a voice. One I didn't know existed within me. I closed my eyes out tuning out everything but your face in front of me. I sang like it was just you in the room instead of a 1000 people in the middle of a church falling apart. You held my eyes on yours. As the second verse started I could feel you inside my soul. I let go of everything I had ever been trained on as far as stage presence. I just surrendered. I was no longer imagining you. You were there. As the song progressed to the key change and the note I knew I would fall flat on. i just kept my eyes closed singing only to you. You had me hit that note with a power and grace I had never known I had. That was the day you heard my life song. That is the day every facade melted away. When the song finished I was scared to death to open my eyes. Tears were flowing out of me like a friggin hose. I just stood there frozen in your vision.

Man you kicked my ass that day. When I opened my eyes to see some the toughest men I have ever known with their heads down tears rolling down their faces. These are the moments that you give me in this life that I cherish. It makes me imagine the day when you take me off the battlefield of this present darkness and bring me up to the party. Where I can spend an eternity with you. I imagine the faces of the loved ones you have brought up before me. What will that choir sound like? I can only imagine what it will be like to sit and talk with your brother James. The bad ass that he is. Or the rest of the warrior elite that fill the pages of scripture. I imagine the day the three of you look at me and say "Good Job my faithful servant." I pray that I am living my days to your glory and majesty.

I thank you for this day. For the questions of others that draw us all closer to knowing you. Lord you are something my imagination can't fathom at times. Yet I know in my heart you reign there. I am singing this with you again right now. May it honor all you are. To make me all you want me to be.

I love you Lord.

Going Home

2009-04-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

I geared up this morning and went out for a little ride. Just me and the pissed off bumble bee. I had seen a video earlier that had me crying. Images of Soldiers coming home flashed on the screen to the lyrics of "Home" by Daughtry. I must have watched the video ten times. Each time the chorus would be sung. Something welled up within me. It is a mixture of rage for most people don't truly know what coming home means to these men and women. I rage further as I have seen these men come home to wives that hand them divorce papers after being gone two years. They just don't want to be there anymore. Love to these people is just about the good times. They don't want to face the brutality of war once it walks in their front door. Then hurt wells up inside. For these Warriors are now left to their own resolve. Most gut up and make it. Alas though they have been killed by love after surviving in a desert hell.

There are images of young kids embracing their fathers. Little princesses being hugged by their daddy's. I found myself smiling and crying at the same time. Those princesses just filled the heart of a warrior with the love he had missed so. I had seen these home comings often when we lived in California. When it was my job to be there to greet the Warriors of our day. I never got just how huge it was for these people until today. More emotions welled up as I sat there fixed on the images. Then the words made it into me. Holy shit batman talk about having your desire stirred up. I have posted a the link to the song with the lyrics. Listen and read them. If you know me. You will understand.

Since January of this year my wife of 15 years as well as our three great kids have felt completely lost in where our hearts were, as well as where they should be. All our friends we had here are now gone. We haven't been in a church since before Halloween. Our best friend was completely butt darted by a body of people calling themselves "Christians." Peeps, I am schooled in what this definition means. I know what we are called to do with that title. What happened is far from church and even humane. This story closes with the last person that I trusted out here outside of my wife packing his shit and moving home to TX.

The video was becoming a little too much reality for me. Hence the ride. I loaded the song on my mp3 player and headed out to Chapel Canyon. As I rode I saw "How these places and these faces are getting old." As I turned right off of hwy 27 to Chapel Canyon the song started over again.

This road is best described as an old country road that winds, twists and has missing pavement in crucial parts of the road. Like the apex of a corner. It is my "Salvation Road" I guess. I rode hard through the first section dragging my knee ever so slightly on the pavement. The last part of the first section is a left hand turn that is marked 15 mph. I came into listening to "Be careful of what you wish for as you just might get it all. " I looked down and I was at 131 mph. I down shifted to 3rd gear let my ass end slide out a little. I threw my ass off the seat, knee out, shoulders bearing down on the bars, elbows out to air brake. As I made that corner I felt my foot peg drag the ground. I came out of the corner, grabbed a handful of throttle. My back tire spun in protest. My front end came up in a bitchen wheelie. I hung with my ass half off the bike riding this out. Thinking "Oh Shit I am going home. But it isn't Cali" It was like this intense rush of adrenaline combined with sexual euphoria. Some would say it was surreal. The lyric playing when my front wheel came down was " I don't regret this life I chose for me. These places and these faces are getting old.

Common sense would lead one to pull over and check to see if he left his breakfast in his shorts. I am not common. I do have a lot of sense. I just choose to have it at high rates of speed.. I grabbed more throttle as I came onto the straight away. My dash lighting up as I red lined the lil beast. The next corner brings you into a small town in the middle of no where called Hope. I slowed down and coasted through town. went by the fire station I usually stop at as my mind and heart were into the song and the road.

I picked up speed as I headed into the canyon. Dropping 2000 feet from the top of the hill to the bottom as ice carpeted the side of the road. I pushed it a little further. At the bottom of the hill is a corner that is a hairpin off camber turn. I usually diamond this corner. Meaning.. Ya'll can google that one. I came into the corner looking way ahead towards a bridge on the other side of the trees. Remember earlier when I said this canyon is missing key pieces of pavement. Well this is where. At 90 mph's all I saw was dirt and gravel on the whole corner. I couldn't diamond, nor could I slide my knee. As I would wash out the front end and become a tree dart. Locking up both front and rear brakes when riding isn't a good thing. I had no choice. The damn song in my head was starting to piss me off now as the words were again perfect for the moment.

As you can tell I made it through the corner. Rode the rest of the canyon in a civil manner never exceeding more than 178 mph. Come on people. Have you seen me and my bike. It is made to haul ass. I have no ass according to my wife. So it works some how. The canyon leads out to the Old Palouse highway. I pulled over took my helmet off and had a smoke. Just looking at the surroundings. It was at that moment when I looked to the east and back to the west I realized just how much love my wife has for me. That her desire is to watch me do what I love. As that is my desire for her and my kids. To be "Home" where our hearts are filled. We have run too many years now.

We all know where our home is. We tried to make "home" here but the door has closed. We don't belong. I sat back with the sun beating down on me. Just looking into the sky. Listening to the words of the song one more time. In my mind I saw the day my wife and I met. Our Wedding, the birth of our first child, the birth of my son as my younger brother stood with me. I saw the day it was all taken away. Then I saw the day Theresa and I fell back in love. The tears in her eyes and mine as we tore up the divorce papers. My mind wandered to a Christmas three days after our youngest was born. The last time I have seen my own father. His laughter and joy at being grandpa.

These moments didn't occur in Spokane. They all came from being home. In the place where we belong. "Where love has always been enough." Where I can once again watch a Warrior come home and hug his princess and queen in person. Where those that guide me don't bridle me. They love our family as their own. For they know the tears cried when one realizes they are not at home.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Alive, maybe

2008-09-12T16:30:00.000-07:00

Alive, maybe

The days that are behind have shown that those once deemed as trusted have succumb to greed and lust. A lust for power they can never handle. Greed for hearts that already have a hard time finding someone to trust.

Hearts of many lay scared on a battlefield. The holders of these hearts feel they will die as failures in this life. Forgotten by those they claimed as friends. Empty shadows wondering how and why?

The scar tissue builds once more in the battlefield of the heart. Trust even harder to dispense. As the scar moves from scab to an everlasting mark, we “Chosen Few” question how our names appear on the Scrolls. We know we will never be forgotten or forsaken, yet the wound remains. The blood stains.

Have we not learned from our teaching and our own preaching? Do we not know this too shall pass? When we stand looking to kick some serious ass? Did we forget that being the “Chosen Few” holds with it pain? That we are chosen to fight the war and not just the battle we find ourselves in today?

We cry tears as we try to find words to pray. Anger, disgust and rage flow more out of our mouths and hearts from the battle then do our thankful prayers. In the blood of ourselves we aren’t finding a way to “Consider it a great joy, as we face these trials” time and again.

Then from within our hearts we hear “ Your own Blood means nothing. It is by the washing in my blood your name entered the scrolls. It is by my blood you have become the “Chosen Few.” It is by MY BLOOD you have my strength. With that you can do all things. Battles are won and lost day after day. It is in my blood and only my blood you will win this war. This has nor will it ever be done in your own blood.”

The words get louder and louder as they are repeated with each beat of our heart. We listen holding the words to be true. We know we are nothing alone and defeated. Now though our hope is coming alive.

Give to Live

2008-09-02T08:00:00.000-07:00

" I have been asked to resign effective tomorrow morning."

I heard these words Saturday from one of my closest friends and Mentors. I have known and fought with the man for the past eight years and in one sentence, I was knocked out. My wife stood there in shock. Minutes later breaking down on the ride home as she feels she is loosing her Dad all over again. Saturday night was emotional in our house. Anger set in about 3:00 am Sunday morning and has pretty much stayed there. Party line is one thing. Truth is completely different.

With that news and the events of the day that followed when my friend did resign. Put me in a place where I just had to go ride and find a moment alone to do some praying. After I hauled ass for a little bit.

Yesterday morning I set out on my ride. Mp3 player playing in my ears and an open back road with no cars. The two combine to make a head clearing, seat of your pants atmosphere that tunnels your mind too focus on just the road and the sensation of speed. I rode for an hour until my arm started to hurt. I stopped at the place I always do. Looking to get a few minutes with the old Farmer I talk with. Instead I got to meet his wife.

She informed me he was in the Hospital. I asked why she replied " He is as old as this dirt." We talked for a few minutes and she asked why she hasn't seen me out on this road for awhile. "If this is the road where you come to talk with God, did you just stop talking to him." That question kinda floored me. I told her I had been busy and just couldn't find the time to ride. I asked about her Husband and his condition. He had asked about me, a couple of times as he enjoyed sitting talking with me. She said he likes me as I have that " Air about me, that I can be your best friend or worse enemy." " My eyes would show those looking into them where they stood. He especially liked how I stood up for those that have worn the flag of this country on their uniforms."

We finished talking. She walked up to work the farm. It's harvest time and she had a lot of work to do before her husband came home. As she was walking away she looked back smiling she asked if I would sing like I do. So she could hear it on the prairie.

I turned my mp3 player back on and the song came on that just brought the weekend and the past two years into a four minute time span. The song is "Give to Live" by Sammy Haggar. I listened to the song over and over as the lyrics stirred me up again. I sat on the top of an old fire house bunker closing my eyes to listen. " If you want Love, you have to give a little, If you want faith you have to believe a little. If you want peace, you have to turn your cheek a little. " Is how the chorus goes for the most part. I finished my cigarette and put my helmet back on. As the song started again. I looked up into the fields seeing the old farmers wife waving at me as she was walking to the combine. I waved back. Then a couple of minutes later I was on the road again. I went through a 15 miles stretch of road in under 6 minutes. Once again feeling alive and filled with a since of purpose. I rode up to my friends house and spent the day with him talking and helping them get ready to move on to the next chapter in their life.

This life continues. More writings to follow as I learn to "Give to Live."

Who would have ever thought that Sammy "Cabo Wabo" Haggar would have a song that lead me back to the heart I had hidden?

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Tickin Away

2008-05-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

Last time I wrote we had just started to discuss the practice of living like your dyeing. I have ridden every Sunday after that. The ol' Farmer and I still talk. However it has been the days between Sundays that have magnified an intense passion in my soul. As a group of believers we ponder the phrases from Tim McGraws' song. Loving deeply, Speaking Sweater, Giving Forgiveness, Embracing Eternity.

In this time I have watched the hand of God restore what I thought were broken relationships. I have seen pride be trumped. I have watched my wife of fifteen years become lighter. As she has loved deeper, Spoke sweater, and most of all forgave others. I can't speak for everyone, but I know in the case of my wife and I, we have built walls up around our hearts to block out people or events of our past. Lately it is like watching the Berlin wall come crashing down all over again. I am a firm believer that God does all things to his greater purpose. Even when it is kicking my ass. I have just sat amazed at what things have happened lately.

My wife has never really had deep friendships with other women after we got married. Not for lack of trying. It is just the way she learned to be a friend to someone included how to break away when things got too deep. Her best friend before we were married is a great woman. They raised hell together when they were younger but my wife felt burned by her. As we got into the subjects of forgiveness and what we would do if we knew we were dyeing. She began speaking in depth about her friend. (Side note here: Her best friends older brother was one of my close friends growing up. I have known her best friends since she was about eight years old.) A lot of discussion included how my wife learned things from her mother. As well as how all future friendships or relationships were engaged by her own rules of engagement. That way she wouldn't get hurt.

This past Sunday as I was sitting in church singing one of my favorite songs. I wondered what ever happened to her friend and the equivalent of a bratty smart assed little sister to me. It was a brief thought . Just a wondering. The last time we all got together the movie Twister had just come out on VHS. Yes that is before DVD. We had dinner with our new families and within weeks nothing further.

Well I think the line I have direct to God was open on Sunday and he heard my little brain questioning. I walk into work on Monday morning and have a friend request from our old friend. Mind you this has happened with my old friends as well. I am seeing how God is teaching here. It is a "wowsers" kind of thing. My wife and her friend have began talking again. My wife has reconciled other relationships as well. These are things I have prayed about for years. I can walk into a room and within minutes strike up a conversation. Then with a little more conversation friendships are made. My wife is a self admitted "Wall Flower" yet lately she is moving a little farther away from that wall.

Some may ask "what is God's purpose in this?" I don't know the answer nor do I really care. I know it is of Gods will and that is sufficient for me. This about a Husband watching his bride smile. Knowing her heart is opening and risking being hurt. Without hesitation. It is about watching a woman realize she is too old for games. It is a beautiful thing to watch. Even greater is the honor to be a part of it. I am a big fan of scripture. Most churches in America teach Ephesians 5:22. Where women are told to submit to their husbands. It gets misconstrued and 5:23 is usually left out. As that is where men are told to hold their wives up like Christ does the church. I understand this whole passage of scripture now with much deeper respect for the truth in it.

Tickin Away is another cool song by Tim McGraw. Play the two together and both point to letting go and looking to eternity with those you share this moment with.

S/F
Smokin Chaps

Riding Away from your past

2008-04-13T15:50:00.001-07:00

A question was posed to me and several others this morning. What would you do if tomorrow you found out you only had thirty days to live? Then with this catch to it. Once you knew your last day, would you finally leave your past behind? My wife wrote in a note pad that she would finally say what needs to be said to some of the women in her life. Yet she knows it would fall on deaf ears so why bother. She is tired of pushing the rock up the hill.

We talked for a little bit after her first answer. I asked if she is just staying in her past where it is comfortable to just re-live the happy times. I asked myself the same question. Lately it is like I am going back in time. To a place where i had no fucking clue who I was or what I would ever become. Images of girls that at the time I had severe crushes on. The kind where you can't breath right when they are around you. Then to have your heart crushed as they never knew you existed. This is the twentieth year since I left High School. Left being the key word. I went on and cleaned up my life. I made a ton of mistakes along the way. Crushed hearts and dreams of others cuz I was the ultimate in selfish pricks. Right before I got married at 23 I took every picture I had from the time I was 13 until then. Even took the photo's out of my parents album's, and those from several girlfriends. I went down to Leo Carrillo one night and burned them all. Pictures, yearbooks, love letters and told myself that it was time to move on. If I had no pictures to remind me of what a Class "A" fuck up I was. I would be a better husband. Eventually a better man.

A bon fire doesn't erase ones soul. It may destroy the images of what looks like in front of a camera. But it will never burn away the image that looks back in the mirror. Some seven years after burning those images, I looked in the mirror one morning and it took me to the deepest part of my heart. The place that the wall of China surrounded. I walked out of the bath room that morning my kids calling some one else daddy. My wife in another's bed. My room mate looked at me with his infinite wisdom for being a smart ass, and simply said. "You look like shit, lets get to work." Mike if you ever read this. I owe you big time.

We can't change how we lived in the past. We won't get the moments back. The good or bad we have done remains. I have listened to the Tim McGraw song Live like your Dyeing a thousand times. I have sang it in crowded auditoriums. It is a powerful song with a powerful message. I loaded that song and a few others onto my MP3 player and went for a ride. Kissed my wife, hugged my kids and said I will be back soon.

Some people go to big church buildings or other places of worship to find God. I go down a two lane highway out in the Pallouse (Wheat Fields) at about 130 mph to talk with God. As I rode and my head cleared to one thought. I went into my own little world and sat there wondering am I truly living like I am dyeing? Do I wake each and every day living to make sure my family knows how much I love them. Do my friends know just how deeply I care about them. Does God my Father know my heart as well as he says. Do others see that when they look at me?

I rode away from my past today. I took the rear view mirrors on my bike and folded them in. Why? So my focus stayed on what was in front of me. Not what was behind. Man I felt like my ass was on fire. I rode like I was on a closed course and the speed limit didn't matter. I turned the music up as loud as it would go. Tucked in and listened. 150 miles later I was standing at a grain elevator smoking a cigarette and drinking a Pepsi. The owner of the co-op pulled up looked me up and down a couple of times. Smiled and said God must have his hand you son.. I looked at him and asked why he said that. He replied "because I see freedom in your eyes, and passion in your soul." You just seem to get to this spot a little faster than most. We talked for a few more minutes smoking our cigarettes and looking out over the fields and mountains. We shook hands as we have done in the past this time he leaned into me in a grand fathers embrace patting my back and shoulders. "Lord Willing, I will see you next Sunday. It is this half hour we have sitting at this spot that makes my focus stay on what is next to come. Not what has been." I said "Thank you sir." Drank the rest of my Pepsi, tossing the empty in the back of his rig.

Geared back up and started back down the highway I had come down. I turned onto a highway I had never been on just to see where it would go. It turns out the high way brought me right back home. Object lesson. Living without fearing death allows you to experience more than any facade or bull shit you could imagine. Tuck your mirrors in one day and focus on eternity. Not on being busy.

Semper Fi,
Smokin Chaplain

The Northwest Winds.

2008-01-15T19:16:00.000-08:00

The air outside is reading 18 degrees. My bones ache from breaks in the past. My joints ache. Yet I find myself looking for the sun. To feel it's warmth once again upon my skin. As I get another day to ride the northwest winds.

Three beers in and all I can see is the open roads where I find peace. I can see myself alone on that winding road. Tempting it with the soul I carry in this life. I can feel my foot put the bike into gear as I take off. First to second gear and my thighs begin to feel the euphoria that has stifled in the winters cold. The pleasure of no pain when I stand or walk. Just me and the Northwest wind.

Third through forth gears are being felt now. My battered arm and wrist twist the throttle. Speed is felt with each gear change. The road is moving by in blur. 90 mph and the bike settles into it's pace. Waiting to be thrust ed into yet another gear. The wind and the sun warm my skin. I twist the throttle a little more and speed increases. 140 mph is what I see when I look down. Yet I am docile, My heart beating slower as I come alive. As I look ahead to see the road begin to bend.

I tuck my body into the bike my shirtless upper body defying everything my parents ever taught me. Yet at this moment I am free. No pain, No Chemo, No broken hearted people. Just me and the racing wind. The first turn has arrived. I lean down my knee dragging on the asphalt. I throw the bike over for the next corner. My right knee dragging the asphalt this time. Speed held at 130 mph. This is a personal race I force myself to win.

The road straightens and I pop to sixth and wind the bitch of the throttle for all it is worth. The front wheel rises off the ground and the wind brings it back down. I look again. in an instant 130 has become 170 mph and I laugh inside my helmet. I am at that place once again.

The next chicane appears on the horizon. I tuck tighter clinching my thighs and ass to the seat for this is the corner that has haunted me. It is in my dreams and in my daily visions. It is where life can become death. i down shift and my transmission screams. My back tire smokes as it slides in protest. The sign on the side road reads corner speed is only 10 mph. I look down. 100 mph is displayed in the LED display.

I take a deep breath and let go of all the breaks as I go down one more gear. I hit the corner at 90 mph. The whole bike sliding in the gravel. I finally catch traction at the apex. Fear is dripping out my pores as I sweat in the sun. Is this my day?

I clear the corner eyes two turns ahead. I go up through the gears once again. Knowing that I have bitched slapped fear once more. I am at peace. I know God is there with a legion of Angelic Marines. This is my way to simply pray.

The road tangles and bends through the plains of wheat and dairy farms. It becomes gentle like the body of a woman. Curving where it needs to and falling out where it shouldn't. I am still riding that Northwest wind.

I look up from my dream and see once again the reality of where I am. The temperature has dropped a couple of more degrees. The hour of sleeping approaching fast. My bones still hurt. My joints still ache. Yet I smile and laugh out loud. For in my heart the cold disappeared and I was free to race the Northwest wind.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain.

Can You see the Son?

2008-01-06T08:16:00.000-08:00

I got this image the other day in an e-mail. It is now my desktop photo. Simply because it draws me into the photo and into deep thought. The image is the silhouette of Two Marines and a group of kids as the sun illuminates them the from the back.

Each time I look at it the question keeps coming to mind. Can you see the son? As in Christ in this image? I have stood watches in my life like these two young men. In moments where it was killed or be killed. We did our jobs. I am here today to write because of choices made. Some are surprised I have lived this long. Others see many more years ahead of me. I look in this picture and see all I have fought for in one image. Two Warriors in front of the "least of these." I do see Christ in this image. I see what few men are doing in this world these days. We have become self involved sperm donors that enjoy the moment of sex with whomever. Yet when the child comes into the world. A lot of men are just walking away.

Honestly I want to beat the living shit out of all of them. With each bone crushing punch I want to know why... Why do they hurt their lover? Is their pleasure in seeing someone spend a lifetime trying to be both mother and father? How the hell does it feel as your cheek bone implodes towards your inner skull. Guess what ass hole it is nothing like the wound your child feels growing up knowing you didn't want them in your life. I am a man of God fully ordained to speak his word and do has he commanded. Yet I look in this picture and at times I just wish he would come back and end the suffering.

These two young men are both 19 years old. They have sat in a combat zone since their 18Th birthdays. You ask them why they stand on that hill in front of those kids. The answer will either haunt you or bring a smile to your face. Ten minutes before this picture an insurgent Sniper was firing on the kids playing. Not one of them over 13 years old. The two Marines engaged the sniper only to find 18 more insurgents behind him. Without thought to self they grabbed the kids to the ground and opened fire. As the kids and others ran from the bullets these two young men walked into the bullet storm. In five minutes of combat they had Terminated the fight in the insurgents and let the bodies hit the floor.

When the smoke cleared not one child was harmed. Not a single person in the community of Christian Iraqi's was harmed. With smiles on their face, The Marines say that is why were earned the Title. It isn't politics, or oil. We are here simply to let Children grow up in a hint of the freedom we had back home.

Nothing will ever be mentioned of this day in the press. The young men God willing will come home and live in our communities. Those that have never been in the moment of Kill or be Killed will spit at them. Call them names that make my blood boil. By most they will be hated for what they did when they lowered their rifles and opened fire. Hmm.. Usually the ones starting all this shit are the same assholes the screw women and walk away. These are the same people that wouldn't know Honor or Courage if it hung off their Johnson..

The sum of life is this. Look for the Son. Show him to others in who you are. For he is the greatest Warrior to ever live. He has been hated and always will be. But we live in a world at war. How will you fight in your life?

S/F

Smokin Chaplain

What would you do

2007-11-24T12:15:00.000-08:00

The question below was sent to me last night from a dear friend a mentor and great man. He has helped me see things in my life that at times my pride tells me to just punch him. As he gets me back into my heart. He challenges by the Grace of YHWH to see who I am in the eyes and heart of God. He has asked me some hard ass questions as we have learned to know one another. I am posing this question to all that will read it and be willing to answer. I will share my answer as well.

"Now, if we can relax for just a moment, close your eyes and imagine that you are out for a walk one evening. It’s a dark and cloudy night and you’re not really familiar with the trail you’re hiking. The path leads you to some bushes and you push the branches back and step through. As you do so, you trip and fall hard to the ground. You check yourself to make sure nothing is broken or bleeding, and then you roll over to see what you tripped on.

For a moment, the moon breaks through and you realize you tripped over a body stretched out prone on the ground. He looks up at you and you recognize the face of Jesus. His face is red, his cheeks stained with blood. Quickly, what do you do? "

I would look him in the eyes and stay speechless. My own fear of him knowing me would prohibit me from saying or doing anything. I would not be able to do anything. I would just look forward to what he would do for me.

Others have answered in the past the following:

“I would do my best to talk to Him; looking for something I could say that would cheer Him up or make Him feel better.”

“As soon as I saw who it was, I would act like I didn’t see Him and get up and run, hoping He would think I hadn’t seen Him or recognized Him.”

“I would ask Him if he was hungry to see if eating would make Him feel better.”

“I would read some Bible verses to Him so He would remember that everything was going to turn out OK.”

“I would tell Him that life is not worth going through so much emotional torment and that I would refuse to deal with hard issues if it means going through such suffering.”

These answers will show each of us how we deal with others that we have relationships with. Where and how do we love. Take it a step further and it will show you how churches in America deal with the same thing.

My deepest desire is to save the abused. To walk in and hold them in my arms and carry them out into a life that can be lived abundantly. The church is suppose to be like this to all who come to it. Yet as I look around at all the programs, mega churches, small group studies. They all resemble a really big joke. I have asked many a church to assist or cover my wife and I as we do go out and do what our desire draws us too. The answer has been a resounding no. We want you to come and do things the way we do it. Follow this program. Join this small group. Read this ABC guide to fulfillment in our body. To me honestly it's bull shit. It's unbiblical. Leaders in some pretty big churches when I present a counseling ministry to them have said. " We leave that to the pros."

The thing I don't get is when I read the bible especially the life of Christ no where in there do I see him saying. " I leave that to the Pro's" I see him calling out 72 normal men telling them take nothing. When they return Christ is on fire because these people by going out defeated Satan. The pros of his day he laid into. He turned the temple over in a rightous anger. He took the scholars of the day and made them look like asses. All in love. No malice. He just spoke as his father directed him. He loved. Like none of us ever will.

The last person to tell me we " Leave that to the Pros." I replied simply. I am a pro. I work everyday. Get a pay check. It just happens to be for being a Manager not a Shrink. Maybe you should go try being a pro instead of thinking you could tell me how God will respond to another BS program. I got up walked out. My desire even more intense. I have known one Biblical church in my twenty years of claiming to be a christian.

I just pray that one church will some day be what we all strive to be. Wounded humans, our hearts on the mend. But together with the help of counseling and genuine pursuit in getting to know the heart of those around us. We will all realize. YHWH is the pro. He is who we emulate. When we just try to Love like he has instructed.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

When the time should come

2007-11-11T19:24:00.001-08:00

My family and I took a step out of of the norm and opened our home to another family. It was an experience that I will long hold in my heart as a successful failure. In the end the friendship that started may have been redeemed but I still killed off a heart out of stubborn pride. I am human. Outside of war I never willingly want to hurt some ones heart. It isn't the business I am in. Yet like the scripture says. Even though I don't want to sin, my flesh wins out. And I do sin.

This isn't a blame game writing. It isn't an attack on the person or their family. It isn't to justify what our family did either. It is simply to state a truth. In attempting to do good if not properly prepared Satan will make you fall.

Pretty easy statement to make at this point. While I was debating the decision or what came of it. It was not an easy thing to digest. When the time should come that I stand before the Lord on High and lay my crowns down. I will be able to lay this experience down before him and know he got all parties through it. Our house has just us in it. The other family is moving into their new home. Faith remains. Grace ensues. Desire rises again.

Desire to bring hope once again. Desire to bring a smile to the hurting. Desire to know that although my heart can be a cold killing instrument. God himself still dwells there. Do I deserve this from him? No none of us do. Yet he dwells there.

As he does in the heart of the person we hurt. This is where I find the largest debate with myself. God loves all. As a Chaplain and Counselor I am to do the same. Yet when I don't. He is still there to guide my words. To heal my heart. Too bring back desire instead of hate. How do I get there? How do I take off myself and be more like him?

When the time should come and the opportunity comes again to take another into our home will we do it? Will we open the doors to our home. Will we risk our hearts and the hearts of our children to see some one else find life abundant?

When the time should come that you find yourself in this situation, would you open your heart and home? Will you risk all knowing the first time you did it, in your eyes you failed?

When you let your life song be heard. rely more on God than the Marine Corps Manual. As the chorus is sung from within your heart. Remember it is that heart where evil and good fight. It is a war and their will be casualties. When the time comes to count the cost. Let God count by the blood of his son through the spirit that walks among us.

Anything less than that and you will bleed out from inside.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

The Road to Lazarus

2007-10-19T18:52:00.001-07:00

It has been a while since I have been able to sit down and write and talk with you Lord. You have seen my days and lived my nights. You have heard my heart beat and kicked it at times when it stopped. You have laid a plan in front of me that at times I pucker like a virgin inmate. You called me out in a a dream and told me to stand for the innocent and fight for the broken hearted.

Somewhere in there you put a book inside me to mark the Road to Lazarus. I have spent moments looking for the words to write this book. Each day you reveal more. First it was the title. Then a prompting tells me to write about those that. In terms of society are the misfits and outcasts. Yet each one stands in front of you and you smile in joy for who they are.

Well I ask you now to give the words so these life stories are told. I ask you for that quiet moment when I can lay pen to paper or fingers to key board and let the power of your spirit Honor what I write.

By the salvation you gave me in my darkest moment in life let the words you give me be read by the broken hearted and let it touch them. Lord I know I "ain't right" but you dwell in me and through you I have accomplished what I am here in front of you.

You are the first and the last and it is you I serve. Let my voice be heard and delighted by you.

In your sons name I pray.. Amen

Ride the Wind and Rain To the Battle Within

2007-08-31T20:35:00.000-07:00

Back home right now the wind is blowing, the rain is falling, and lightning is dancing it's dance on the night sky. It is weather where you just have to ride the wind.. Take your helmet and shirt off and just fucking ride. Point your bike to the lightning as it dances. Grab the gears and just haul ass to the light. Let the rain kiss your skin as you gain speed. 60 mph and you are feeling it as you become pelted by the storm. The lightning rolling away. 80 mph and it is like needles piercing your skin but you just hold on and grab fifth gear. You let your hand roll on the throttle the power band kicks in between your legs and you are now at 130 mph's.. Rain no longer hitting your skin as you cut through the wind.

Your body is now soaked and the air moves about you. The engine breaths heat on your legs as your upper body endures the cool summer night. You hit 145 mph and all is lost. Your vision tunnels. Your arms tighten on the bars. You suck into the shape of a bullet bound for hellish enjoyment.

The speedometer now reads 162 mph hitting 9000 rpm. Your upper body now dry. You put your foot into the gear shift and Pop the clutch jamming the bitch into 6Th gear. You twist the throttle for all it is worth.

The front wheel rises and you just hold on as physics and engineering take you to the light. Cars fly by turbulence makes the bike shudder in the speed. Yet you don't let go. You have been enslaved to a hotel room in the Midwest for to long. You have been dead to joy to long. So you ride the winds. The thunder rolls and claps over the sound of the motor. The road begins to twist as you see 197 mph looking at you. You begin to feel alive again. The corner appears in the distance, you lift your body to meet the wind. Your body the brake. You down shift. The sign reads some bull shit about slowing down danger ahead. Yet you ride possessed by the storm and the light in the sky.

You come to the first turn and the back tire slides you put your knee to ground and slide your ass off the seat. No brakes you just power through the corner. Leaning hard left. The next hard right appears. Power shift down and throw your ass to the other side. Drag the knee and breath. Speed reading 155 and you are loving every minute of it. Next corner hard left to immediate hard right. You dance the bike like a women in the night finding the same if not greater pleasure. Knees dragging, arms pumped you ride. The road climbs to the night sky the corners twisted and routed. Your headlight hits the gravel and you slide the ass end around. Sliding in unison with the devils that haunt you and the guardian angels that protect you. The tires scream in protest to find traction on that chicken strip.

A smile is seen on your face by the car that almost killed you. You just ride. The road begins to twist a mellowing undulating fashion. You speed up and glide up the mountain. The lightning is pissed as you have caught it. It showers the night in colors of pink and purple. You slow your speed as the road begins to end at the peak of Mountain. The lightning rages at you. The thunder roars shaking the ground beneath. The rain hitting you hard once more. At the edge of the mountain you stop. Place the kick stand to ground and un-mount.

The thunder clouds reach the top of the mountain as you watch them come for you. They are pissed as you have beat them to this place. Lightning explodes around you!!! Thunder felt in your toes. Yet you stand firm. Bare skin exposed to the night. You just let rain come down, as you are painted in the light.

You watch your devils and your angels fight. Knowing these moments are what make all the loneliness seem right. A strike of lightning explodes a tree nearby. A devil ripped by the Angels sword of light. It's blood paints the pink of the cloud. Thunder rolls it's voice. Loud as all can be. Another angel strikes his sword of light. Another demon dies in the night. The war wages and you simply embrace the storm of life. You have rode hard and you stand wet. The rain washes you, cleansing your heart. You stand in the wonder of God's battle field. The storm, The speed, the rain empowering you. In the last moments of this battle you fall to knees. Looking to the angels that fight for you and the devils that haunt you.

You look one in the eye as he taunts you. His words thrashing you. "I want your Soul. I will kill your heart. " are the words he screams. An angel comes behind you and with his touch your sword explodes into the chest of hell. You ram it to the hilt of the long blade. Twisting as you penetrate. You bring the beast close as he breathes his last breath. You stare Satan in the eye. Look at me you vile disgrace. His eyes yellow and red with a fire you know to well. The stench of death on his breath invades your nostrils. You reach around Shoving your blade once more. He traps you in his eyes. As you look deep within hell you offer the devil a kiss and tell him you will always live Semper Fi. His last blood breath spatters your face. You let go and watch him die. Holding his throat in your fingers you rip back. Pulling out his Heart. You eat. Tasting your enemy.

S/F

Smokin Chaplain

The Storms we Must Ride

2007-08-31T05:55:00.000-07:00

I am miles away from what has become home. My wife lays asleep as the heat of the day brings to form it's humid steam on the window to my right. I know my children lay asleep growing into the men and women they were designed to be. Since I have been here sleep as not been on the cards for me. When I do finally get into a place of dream they are like I have never experienced. Moments when voices sing and hearts shine bright. Yet I wake wondering why I can I can dream peace yet rage in a war? Until last night.

I slept in your comfort. Gained strength in my heart because I let my mind go silent. Your spirit was there. As my grand father looked me in the eyes and said he found pride in the man I fight to be. Mentors that taught me to not just take pictures but to place my soul on Kodachrome for the world to see. Both long dead the moments when I wasn't even a teenager came back. The three of us able to watch another place that soul on a Gallery wall for the world to see. You were there in my sleep O' Lord and I slept. The dreams that I have when awake played in a scene I never imagined.

I have found the comfort that had escaped my heart. The beauty few will ever now. In the midst of a thunder storm in my heart you spoke to me. Through a voice of my grand father. You let me see you. In these moments as I wake I lift my hands to you close my eye and let my Life song sing once more. It is the storms we must ride for you to give your measure of strength.

Thank you for finding a little favor in me.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

Myself and the illusion that Church works

2007-08-09T18:14:00.000-07:00

I have been in a quandary of late. A man without a church. On one side it is a freedom I have been looking to find for years. On the other it sometimes feels like a curse. In what I do as a Chaplain/Counselor I have almost always had someone senior to me that I could de-brief with. Go out for coffee or a beer. Sit and smoke a cigar and go through the list of issues facing myself and my counsels. With the exception of one mentor. The meetings consisted of training people to manage their sins better. How to avoid knowing someone deeply. Most of all to prevent myself from being known too deeply by those that have sought help from me. All this was done in the context that it was a loving church just protecting me from the world we live in.

Well I had enough of the bull shit and walked. My desire is to help others. Not by living their life but just listening to what their life has brought them. In doing so finding where God is in that life. When needed I will fight for them in a battle that most will never comprehend. I continue to do this outside a church covering not to be a rebel but because I am tired of seeing the walking dead. People professing a faith in a God we can never truly understand but in simple terms, a God that will love us no matter what we have done or what we may do. Yet when the truly broken walk in.. These people pierce their hearts even deeper all in the name of God.

I am tired.. I have had marathon sessions. Death occurring almost weekly. People coming to me seeking answers and a sense of hope that right now, I can say my hope is about drained. I have loved deeper than I have ever expected I could. Through the strength of God alone. Yet I have no one to speak with any more that is tangibly in front of me. My wife tries but there is only so far and so much she can know about those I help. I have been told take it to the God you claim to follow. Cuz as they hear it he knows everything. Yes he does but he lives in the hearts of those in our lives that right now I feel I don't have.

Death will still happen. Marriages will fall. Women will continue to live a life where their true beauty is miscarried and beaten. Battles will occur. Hearts will continue to break...I use to think I could take all these situations on. No I didn't think I was superman or God himself. I just had faith that as long as I stood outside of myself and did more for others I would survive. Mentally and spiritually. Well all I am surviving but I would rather LIVE....

This isn't a pity pot session but a man simply expressing that I have learned that I can't do what I do alone. I need to vent. I need to release. I need a little of the Love I give out, given back to me. So God I am here and you know my heart. You know I still have fight in me but I am weary. Man I am weary. So Lord give that measure of strength and that humbleness I had just months ago. I am not asking for a church that will cover me. No church right now isn't what I am in need of. Lord I am in need of a community of friends that will pray for me. Smile when I need it. People that understand this battle we are in as we sojourn this world.

Lord if you know my heart give me the rest I am dying to have. Let my eyes and my mind sleep in comfort.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

It's Ticking Away

2007-06-12T18:24:00.000-07:00

It's the title to the song that is screaming ears right now. I sit here listening to the words. Pondering what I have heard and seen recently. Then I realize life is like the song. It is just ticking away. So why live in what we use to be. Why let fear hold us in relationships that only harm us? None of us know when our number is called, but none of us will be walking out of this life alive. So why not tear the walls down around who we are and be what God imagined us to be when he breathed us into existence?

I have been spending more time looking at peoples hearts than their faces lately. It is a pretty cool experience to sit there and just listen to the stories of what life has done while the clock has been ticking away. While listening you actually hear the beat of the persons heart. You see their tears. You hold them when they are breaking down not saying anything. Just let them get all of their wounds out. When they move away and eyes meet, you look inside them and you just can't not see Hope coming alive. God has put these people in my life from the Vet that comes home missing limbs to the women that have lost all. He has placed them in my life and I have been truly blessed. I have studied at the best seminaries in the Country. I have been trained by some of the best Biblical counselors God has offered the world. God has used each experience combined with what I was to form who I am today.

I know he knows my heart. I know he loves my heart. This isn't arrogance or vanity. It is a truth that his word has been telling us all for Centuries. We have just decided that he was wrong and we were right. So we lived. We sinned. Some more than others. Some Less. Yet to him he still loves us. He still calls us to him. To show us Love in it's most beautiful and rarest form. It's unconventional by our standards... Man has pondered as time just keeps ticking away. Man has tried to make God like us. So He is marketable to those outside of the church. Man has somehow decided that we are suppose to follow the great commission by adding our own doctrinal statements to his words. Because hey the pews need asses in them. So if we spew enough bull shit people will come and sit awhile. Throw some money in bucket because hey the guy behind the Pulpit tells us God commanded us to test him on this. If we give we will be blessed beyond what ever we imagined.... Don't get me wrong. I have lived off of what came out of that bucket. It was a struggle. The biggest struggle is that when the money wasn't there I went farther and farther away from God and his word. Because I chose to think Money was more important.

I look at churches and the people inside and wonder if they really understand that the clock is ticking away. Those we are to love are outside our walls. Those that need God the most don't want to walk in the doors because once inside church turns into a court room. The people inside that are suppose to be the guides on the journey to knowing the heart of God are just phony plastic people that really don't care deeply enough. Also serve as judge jury and executioner of the lost soul walking through the door. They guard their own hearts and in doing so deny love to those that really need it. For the longest time I was one of those fake ass plastic people making God fit into the bubble I was comfortable with. I would follow him if I could lead... Yes if I could lead. I was and still can be really good at saying " Hey God I am going to make an ass out of myself. Follow me and watch." Oh by the way I don't need your help... That usually leads to a GodSmack!!!

Well I have had some really beautiful hearts come alive in my presence lately. I have seen years of pain just wash away. I have seen what society calls half a man become so alive that being next to him is absolutely infectious on ones faith. I have watched my wife become so absolutely captivating that I have to pinch myself to see if it is a dream. God has taught me Loving someone isn't the sexual experience of knowing someone. It is the intimacy of knowing what is in their hearts. It has taken years...37 to be exact to figure out Time is ticking away and instead of hating my heart for what I have done, I am to take a step back. Use a measure of faith and believe when God looks into my heart he likes what he sees. Time is ticking away so do we measure ourselves by standards we can never possibly attain and go insane in doing?

Time is ticking away. I have it from a good source Jesus is coming back this year... okay I had to throw that in here.. ( I don't think so but it would be cool!!) But really time is ticking. Do we sit in our fake plastic churches next to fake plastic people and point at every one seeking a better life and laugh and ridicule them. Or as the clock ticks do we stop looking at the flesh of those seeking and look to their hearts? If you live life looking in your mirror to see if your makeup is done right. Or look in your wallet and driveway to see what you possess, than I guess the clock just ticks away. You already sold yourself out on a dream that will vanish. If you have an ounce of looking for something more. If you believe in Love and all it's crazy twists, Than look at your heart. Get it right. Not perfect, just right. Then get to know some one Else's heart. Find an intimacy that words can't express. Let them know your heart. Keep passing it on. Live, Love no matter what just do it anyway. It's ticking away.

We are image bearers of a heart that is beyond comprehension. However challenges are fun. Break the glass and step out. Let your heart out. Help someone find theirs and never leave them. Never condemn them for what they have done. Just be glad God placed them in your life and love them. It isn't easy but if you could see what happens when a cold lifeless heart begins to beat again, you will find strength. When loving seems more painful than it is worth keep doing it. Time is ticking away. As it ticks away, let your heart beat in time to it. Be yourself. That is a tall order. Yet it's ticking away. Love those around you and Love yourself. Because we are wonderfully and beautifully made in the eyes of God who formed us and Loves us.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

The Better Path

2007-06-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

The Better Path

Is there a better path for those that are hurting? Is the better path a quick fix simple cure? Is the better path denying the pains that lavish our hearts? Is the better path to just smile and fake that we are fine when in fact we are staring down the barrel of a gun looking to death as the cure?

Or is the better path to look deep into the word at Psalms? To the best path that takes our hearts and souls directly through the shadow of death? To a place where we have denied as the pain is too much to bear. The valley is the proving ground where God our father creates a terrain that only his imagination could create. His faith will show itself but as you walk it is the symbol of Hell itself. The desert of our soul is dry. When we look inside at the scars and walls that surround our hearts the vista is so mountainous that we just want to stop. Who in the world would want to travel to such a place with limited supplies of our own vision, holding a set of roadmaps tattered and incomplete, when it would be so much easier to tune into to Oprah or some other talking head that sells us their vision?

The valley is the start of a journey where we have to bring our wounded heart before God. In my case it is a heart that is filled with anger and rage, soaked in self doubt, bloodied and often broken. At times I feel my heart has been nothing more than hammered meat beaten and twisted conditioned for nothing more than dog food. Not what sustains my life. I asked myself when I started this journey why would God if he is even real want me. Why would he embrace this heart. What in this abused and shattered heart could he love?

I have faced bullets, knives, fists yet this journey made all those seem like nothing but trivial risk. Because my sinful heart had to put forth the words to what was the very condition of my heart at the feet of God. Then wait for His response. I had to find within myself the faith to trust. When for longest time my heart had been broken by those that were suppose to be my parents. By those that should have loved me.

Here is the kicker people. On this journey God will kick your ass. He will hurt you, in order to heal you. I brought myself to him cursing his very name. To me pain was just weakness leaving the body and I could endure pain. Pain was what my heart knew. Pain is what my brain craved. God was a deity some place I could never find or ever be allowed entry. For, I was a child that would never amount to anything. Jail was to be my home. Hell my final resting place. But my friend took me to the feet of Lord. Battered and cursing the whole way. Clutching to every bruise my dad made me endure for the sake of discipline. The pain inflicted on me in my childhood to pain inflicted in my adulthood was clinched in my fist. Then in a matter of moments I was weeping. God met me right where I stood. He began to fashion me to his will not my own. I was forged to be a man who’s own pain would some day heal another’s. Some of you may be thinking I am crazy because most people’s theology is based on a systematic belief that God is good all the time. God would never hurt his own beloved children. Was God not at the garden when humanity took the splat? Was it not God that banished Adam and Eve from the garden? Was it not God that sent his only Son to be killed by us so he (God) could once again come into relationship with us. God sent his only son to be man and to die a death that at the least was in humane. People God knows pain and has inflicted more pain then we will ever comprehend. All because he loves us. Do we see this love when we are battling abuse physical or sexual? Do we see this Love when the ones we love give their bodies away in the bed of another? We curse him for these things. Yet every day we choose to abandon him. We abort the children he tries to bless us with. We say we will follow him only if there is no RISK!!!!! People The Lord has kicked my ass. I wouldn’t have it any other way. In allowing me to be hurt he has forged a man out of a liar, thief, and adulterer, I choose daily to walk in that valley. In the valley I have learned that without it my wounds mean nothing but scars. My faith is meaningless. In the valley I found my name. I found healing that I couldn’t imagine. In the valley I found something greater than myself. In the valley I cried tears yet the Lord washed my tears with the blood of his son. God embraced me and continues to embrace me.

Don’t believe me? Come take that first step. Can it be any worse than the cold pain your heart feels when your own pains haunt your dreams, stealing life from your heart? To all the warriors that read this. Who have gone to foreign lands to fight for freedom only to come home to country that no longer needs you. I challenge you to stand. To the women that have known nothing but abuse. When instead of being embraced for the beauty they are they are violated sexually and emotionally. I challenge you walk away and be alone in the valley. To those who have been betrayed by those that vowed to love them. I challenge you. What can be worse the pain you already have, or a journey that teaches you the gift that telling of your story would have in the life of another.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Fear no evil. Fear no pain. For in that valley God is there. If he is for you then who or what shall you fear.

Semper Fidelis,
Patrick T. McAlister
Aka The Smokin Chaplain

What was so Heroic

2007-06-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

It has been a week, that will go down in my mind as a failure. To others they think what I did was heroic. In my mind I failed. The bad guy got away before I could lay my hands on him. Details of the incident can't be explained completely because I have to be nice and keep my mouth shut.

What is heroic about letting some scum bag leave with property entrusted to me. Then when he does leave he binds his girlfriend and holds her captive in her own home while he gets high on Meth. I guess there are different definitions of what a hero is. Mine is the one that breaks the glass pulls the sum bitch out and beats his ass down.. or die trying trying. Filling out reports, picking pictures out of line up. Communicating daily with Police. That's all I did. What is heroic in that?

When the detectives finally told me just how "Bad" the bad guy was and what he had that morning. I felt fear. Not the piss yourself kind. It was the Holy shit kind. I stepped back and said Mother pucker...okay well the other version of that. When the weight of the whole incident finally played back in mind, the statements made by the bad guy. I looked in the mirror yesterday morning and just wanted to punch through it. I failed. The Police did their job. I failed. I woke up with a glimpse of fear. Had I gone full tilt bogey the likelihood of me being able to write would be slim.

Bullets have passed by me before. I have fired a few back. In this incident I raised my hands and let the guy go. I am surrounded by great friends. Marines and Police officers. All have said "Hey you did good." Did I? If I did then why do I feel like some candy ass school kid? The answer wasn't at the bottom of a bottle of Tequila. I looked for the answer again in the bottom of a few beers and all I saw was an empty beer can.

So I sat and prayed. Just shut the world out and and asked God what the hell is the answer. If what I did was "so Good" Why do I replay the scene for a different outcome. Why do I second guess myself. Along with few other questions. I got done praying and went on with the day. I had asked so now it was time for the answer to come in my silence. After some chores and physical labor I sat down and read some e-mails. I went to an e-mail from one of men I respect most in this world. It is was in reference to a completely different situation but his words were Gods answer. He wrote the following:

"Chaps – this is why you were called for what you do. But me mindful of what your calling really is – if you end your tour now, whom else is waiting for your hand of mercy? You cannot sacrifice more souls for just one.

Do the best you can, and be proud of that. I’m here for you bro."

That morning I did the best I could. No I didn't dawn a Super Man on Steroids cape!! I remembered a licence plate. Remembered the face, the clothes, the car, and had an inventory of what was stolen. When news crews showed up, I shut my mouth. When people around me were sketching, I smiled and heard them out. Some worried. My wife well she just was herself. If I can call her than I am not shot. So smoke that cigarette, suck it up and march on. It is who you are. Those were her words. That morning.

When I told her how I felt this morning after church. Her reply was a little less poetic. Patrick you are not Superman. Stop letting this fuck with you. You want to save the world in one breath. You can't!!! You did what God had you do. So you can fight another day. She has taken the kids and left me to write this out. She knows if i can write through my emotions, if I can lam bast myself for the lack of action I will come to realize. I did do the best I could, and I am proud of what I did.

I guess a good fight isn't always filled with punches and broken bones. A good fight can be over coming yourself. Sitting back and realizing the bad guy is in Jail. People and property are safe. No bullets fired. No blood spilled. A good fight can be when your done second guessing the coulda, shoulda, would of's. Look at the totality of the situation and realize. My tour of Duty isn't over. My hand can stretch out to someone else needing Grace and Mercy. A good fight is when you let your heart win out over your brain.

Shu if you read this. Thank you. Your good at bitch slapping me back into the game.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

Two for Tuesday

2007-05-29T19:33:00.001-07:00

Okay.. Thought it was Monday.. But it's okay I had my roots dyed blond.. I am going to make this a two fold entry today. Get your heads back on the curbs. A buddy of mine sent this to me today and after my day I just laughed my ass off. Literally I think it got smaller rolling on the floor. So get a laugh..

The Pastors Ass
The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again.
The local paper read: PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT
The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.
The next day, the local paper headline read:

BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.
The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day:
NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.

The bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. The next day the paper read
NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild. The next day the headlines read

NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE
The bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is....being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery...and even shorten your life. So be yourself and enjoy life... Stop worrying about everyone Else's ass and you'll be a lot happier and live.

That was funny.

Part II

On a serious note after my day I came home and sat back and just listened to some music. Casting Crowns has a song titled Stain Glass Masquerade. After listening to the words I have found my next Tattoo. So I need some one that draws better than my stick figure chicken scratch to draw me this. I want a big Ole Stain glass window. Multi colored. I want a bible being thrown through it as it crashes I want a human heart wrapped with broken chains. I will place the tat where it will fit. If it is a back piece so be it. The point to the Tat is I am sick of people telling me that I have to be restrained. That I am too bold. That I have too be tame and stay behind the stained glass. Glass is made to broken. Hiding behind it is stupid. For those that say my body is temple.. Well the temple needs painting every now and then. This will be my last tat. So I want it to be freaking kick ass awesome. So all those draw start. I will post the winner. Then where it goes. The meaning if you haven't figured it out is simply this. I won't stand behind a stained glass window when people are hurting. God wants us to love. He sent his son to us to restore relationship. Not barriers. Relationship is a heart thing. All hearts are broken and bound by sin.. yet with the word the bondage is cast aside and we live and love.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

Dreaming of being Dead

2007-05-28T09:21:00.000-07:00

For the past few nights I have had dreams where I see my friends become restored. I see their faces as children are born onto them. I see my son in dress blues walking to his mother from his uniform he places his combat infantry badge on my coffin as I look up from inside. I have seen my wife love and be loved again.

Those that have touched my life the most of have talked with me. Asking then telling me it is time to go home. My time here is done. Dreaming of being dead isn't something I have experienced. I have dreamed of dying. Never though about what being dead is. I have found in my death I am more alive. Last night I dreamed of heaven. I sat and talked with the disciples Peter and James. We talked wars, battles, and love. James gave the warrior embrace. I was in heaven. When I would sing my worship my voice was angelic. When I stood naked my scars and tattoo's still remained but the scars glowed.

I tell my wife what I have dreamed and she won't accept my death. Yet she tells me the spirit is revealing himself to me. In my dreams he is showing what the true Power of love can do for those we offer it too. My death is just confirmation that what I do today is what I have been called for. However I can't die on her or she will kick my ass. All this leaves me with more questions. The biggest is why fear death. I am living and loving like I have been called. God is forming me.

James in my dream said to me. When you became meek. God moved mountains through you. God came into hearts and he called them his friends again. In your meeknes and your death others lived.

I am a simple person. For when I try to complicate who I am and how I am created, well I screw it up. I don't know if dreams of my death mean I am dyeing soon. I don't really care. I have today. That is all that matters. So with today I live, I love, I fight. That is simply what I have been made to do.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

It's Memorial Day

2007-05-28T08:45:00.000-07:00

In the US today we are suppose to be celebrating Memorial Day. A day when every citizen of this country should be remembering the sacrifice of some 3.5 million men and woman that have laid their lives down. For Freedom. Our freedom. In my youth this day was filled with walks in fields of stone. Stories of the fights my Grand father and Father battled. The names of their friends that never made it home.

I look at our country today and I am disgusted. Those that fight and die are discarded after their service is up. The only people willing to take care of them are those that have done the same. This country wants us to fight for them. They want us to lay our lives down. Yet they don't have the stomach for what it takes to be in a war. Well here is some news since the day Adam and Eve made the splat from the garden to earth there has been war. A war that Good fights with evil. A war where if you read the last chapter and have a little faith, you learn we win.

It is memorial day. We are to remember the warriors. Those of the greatest generation back to the infancy of our Nation. Maybe we should remember the man that took on the nails and a cross so we could be free from evil. The man that opened the doors to heaven to a people that for the majority don't give a shit. 3.5 Million have died in pursuit of freedom of a nation. One man died for the freedom of all that call on his name. Are you in that freedom? Or are you still a plastic half ass'd individual that thinks they know what we fight for. Sitting in a plastic church where no one loves like we should. You just run the paces of religion thinking it is relationship.

It's memorial day. Stop thinking about yourself for a moment. Stand outside of your comfort zone and realize. The best offering we can possibly give is to let our hearts be known. Anything less is just a bull shit facade to save your own ass. Be real, fight, and if you have to lay your life down so others can live life abundant. Honor sacrifice by being willing to give your sacrifice not in pursuit of the American dream. No. Be in pursuit of loving like God loves. Take the pain and count it a great joy. Take the bruises on your soul and know they are there not for medals to be pinned onto. They are there so you will know that you are wonderfully and beautifully made in an image of a God, that we as a country have turned our back on.

Calling for peace in the midst of war isn't patriotism. It is treason!! I look out my window and I don't see Christ on his white horse coming yet. So the war rages. Are you a traitor or a warrior. That is the choice we are faced with.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

The Twists that Life Gives

2007-05-26T07:09:00.000-07:00

It has been one of the hardest weeks I have experienced in my life time. Anniversaries prompted phone calls from people I wanted to leave in my past. For it was that date that my heart died. From that moment on and for years to come I cursed God. I was self destructive in everything I did. It was when life went from being about others and how they loved to being all about me. The phone call lasted just minutes when the mother of my first love said "Patrick I love you. We watch from a far and see the man we always knew coming out. I just want you to know you touched this family."

Those comments knocked me down. I will not write about what happened that day 17 years ago but to say it changed the course of my life. So I went to prayer. I laid on my knees praying for more strength. More understanding. More knowledge of the God I refused but now spend my days trying to serve him with the talents he has given me. I asked that he soften my heart even more. I prayed that he just make me the man I know I have inside. Yet I still fear showing that man to the world as pain isn't always weakness leaving the body. My wife and my friends got me through that day. I slept that night in peace. For God continued to break down my barriers and gave me his strength to fight the evil one.

I awoke the next day longing for the day. To continue on the adventure of learning to Love others like the Jesus I serve. That moment Satan decided the battle was on. He wants me to fail. He wants to get in my heart again so I deny what I have become in this world. He wants to destroy what God has restored. He came at me with both barrels taking my friend life away. A man that served 28 years of his life to the greater good of God, Country and Corps. Was whispered a word by the liar. In the moments when his life became his death he wounded a child so deeply that it will be a lifetime for her to recover. I slipped, actually no I fell I blamed God my friend for his weakness and blamed myself because I have been where he was and I couldn't go through with the Blow Job that sucks the bullet to my brain wiping myself out. While I was in the midst of what seemed to be the darkest of moments because others wanted answers I just had more questions. In life there are times for words and there are times when silence in prayer is best. In those moments when I surrendered my anger, my questions, my rage. God met me in his Valley. I walked into a church building that has seen me grow. Sat down and sang worship. Each note I sang healed. I went home and life albeit hard had purpose. God and the spirit he gives was there to fight with me.

I guess the testing wasn't over. The next day one of my friends grand daughters was fatally injured in a Car Accident. She held on to have her daddy arrive and her parents were able to love her through the night being together to say their good byes. I can't answer why it is that the children in this world have to suffer because of stupid adults. That answer isn't for me either. I have spent years as a Chaplain to those in uniform. Laying a warrior to rest to me has meaning. There is a greater purpose in the giving of their life. A child though. That is just the moments when words fade and the best any of us can offer is a shoulder to be leaned on. Arms that will wrap around those that hurt and just embrace them. We show our love without a word being spoken. Life is a series of lessons and tests. Fairness well fair is where you get Cotton Candy and pretty ribbons. Life is where you get scars. It isn't fair. Life is where we make a choice to be known and know others. Not at the superficial face value but where we know hearts. Life is to be spent in a pursuit of righteousness knowing we will never attain it. Life is where Grace is to be given and received.

Life is not religion it is knowledge. Life isn't territorial boundaries. Life is hard but when we step out of plastic bull shit facades and hang ourselves out for the sake of dying unto to ourselves so others may find life abundant. Then there is no greater Love we can give. I know I am in a fight. I will get my ass handed to me on a platter some days. I will feel pain. Pain at the heart. I will not trade that. I can't I bear the image of God. I am wonderfully and beautifully made to fight for others. Seventeen years ago I swore I would never love unless I knew it would be returned. When it wasn't I could walk and place another brick on the wall around my heart. Hurt others before they hurt you.

This morning after this week. The wall is broken down and my heart beats with the Love of Christ for those in my life. Let the slanderous comments fly. Let my integrity be questioned. Let people say what they will. I know a truth they don't. I will share by how I live.

I may be short when you look at me but my heart will move a mountain when it is called too. Not by my own will, but by the grace of God that loves me.

S/F
Smokin Chaplain

and.. then there were Three

2007-05-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

And then there wereThree!!

Another one has been taken from my life. Leaving behind a family, friends, brothers all for what? Why? What is glorified to your will when a man sticks a gun in his mouth and blows his head off in front of his youngest child? Why am I angry at you? Why am I angry at myself.

Were you in the room when he did this? Did you hold the child in your arms. I have a hundred questions coming my way from friends, his wife, Marines. As to where you are in all of this and right now I am struggling to find anything in all of this. I have read your words. I have screamed out to you. Because right now at this moment I don’t have a fucking clue.

I am told that it was the great liar placing one thought in my friends mind. That one thought became one bullet. That one bullet became lives changed forever. For what!!!! He gave 28 years of his life to something few will understand. He has been your warrior. He has trained me to fight and right now, I just want to walk and keep on going. He told me that what we do is stand at the very gates of hell day in and day out because we are strong enough. We can play in temptation. We can dance with the devil himself and kick his ass when we are done. We can feel the flames touch our skin but we don’t flinch we just keep fighting on. Because very few will ever stand outside of themselves to protect what they can’t fathom. What they can’t embrace. But it is our Honor to stand at the gate. It takes courage to know people never give a shit about you as you stand at those gates. It’s takes commitment to stand and look at evil with one eye and gaze toward heaven with another. Is this all bull shit? The very man that has guided me through some of my toughest days of ministry put a bullet in his head.

I am told by one of the other three men left in my life that some of us just have more stamina. We don’t know what he saw in his 28 years of service. We don’t know what he was thinking. We don’t know which battle was his last that finally took his soul. But we know how he lived before that day. We know he has left the gates of hell and is now in your presence. I don’t know if I believe that. But it aint fuckin about me is it? This is another one of those moments when you take me to the “Valley of the Shadow of death” to forge me. To break me down and make me stronger. It is one of those moments I am to count as a great Joy. It is one of those times where we are are suppose Look down at some stupid set of footprints and hear you say. I carried you. Is that what this is? Is this when you give me something to believe in? Okay I am hear at the bottom of the valley. Hit me. Forge me. Mold me from your mire clay out this valley. You called me to this valley to the gates of hell themselves. But right now I feel my honor is gone. My courage has gone UA and my commitment.. Well lets just say my commitment is a little off kilter. I am looking for that Amazing Grace you give that I tell people about. You want me to fight, then so be it. I will fight. But the gloves are off and when I reach through that gate and evil shows his face I am going to pull out his throat. So he never gets a chance to speak his words into the hearts of anyone else. Is this what you want from me? What can I do for you? You hold every card.

What do I tell a child and her mother as my phone rings of the hook? What do I tell the scores of people asking who you are? You know my every breath. So come fight for me. My arms are tired. My voice is softened. Come to this valley in my soul and rescue me again. Yesterday there were four people in my life that knew me on this earth that you blessed with the title of friend. Now I look out my window with my image reflected back and... now there are three. Your streets have another Marine guarding them. I am here at the valley do what you will. Because I can’t. I just can’t.

Saepe Expertus, Semper Fidelis, Fratres Aeterni??

You know my name.

Are we truly Free?

2006-11-10T01:44:00.000-08:00

I am reading a series of different books as part of continuing education. All deal with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I have completed a few courses on this matter and have studied it for awhile but never at this level. As it relates to a child. Let me share an excerpt of the book. It’s Titled “The Trauma Spectrum” by Dr. Robert Scaer. Even if you don’t counsel other people I would recommend reading the book for insight to life and Freedom.

“ Abandonment and Neglect occur in many subtle contexts in childhood. The emotional absence of the Alcoholic parent has been noted as an ongoing source of trauma even in the absence of physical abuse. Our materialistic ,work-oriented has made the chronic of family intimacy a societal norm. The family congregation to breakfast and supper has been placed to the wayside for the 10-hour workday of the commuter employee as a societal norm. Latchkey kids run rampant in America today. We the adults are placing our children in harms way for the power of a buck (My Words). Children under the age of a year are placed in child care where one person is responsible for up to ten little ones. This clearly constitutes abandonment but we don’t always have a choice in young families that can’t live on just one income.

Most families in America live under a dark umbrella of debt. We have been conditioned to belief that we can have whatever we want from cars, Houses, to families as long as we have credit. Yet most Americans dread the beginning of the month when all the bills arrive and we are slowly going deeper and deeper into bankruptcy. Whether we realize it or not we are being traumatized by the vast banking and financial institutions of our society.”

I read this part of the book and just sat back and went Holy Crap. I am a father of three beautiful children. A husband to one of the greatest woman I have ever known. Yet I perpetuate trauma in their lives on a daily basis out of abandonment. I am not climbing on the pity pot here. It’s a simple fact. I work shift work where every 8 weeks thing change and they are the ones that suffer. Biblically this is what is expected: Eph 5:22-30

Wives and Husbands

22 Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26 to make her holy, cleansing^[a] her by the washing with water through the word, 27 and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. 28 In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29 After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— 30 for we are members of his body.

We all have to work. Money doesn’t just fall out of the sky. But if you read that scripture and the text from Dr. Scaer do you see where we have wondered from the path? My wife feels like she is a single mother with a ring on her finger. As I am never personally present when she needs me. There is a little kick in the shorts for you. I justify it by saying at least the bills get paid. It’s a piss poor excuse. The love of my family isn’t worth 35K a year. PTSD has many effects on people one of the biggest is fear of change. Right now it’s time for that change whether I fear it or not. I know what my marching orders are. Now I just need to start the cadence.

Look out at your life, the bills, the minutia of life, your hours, your family. Look in the mirror and see if you find freedom looking back?

S/F

Smokin Chaplain

Life Goes On Things Change

2006-11-06T03:44:00.000-08:00

These are words from a Tim McGraw song that I listen too quite often. Because basically life goes on and Things change. I use to love to work 16 hour days thinking it made a difference. That’s changed. Twenty years ago I thought I would be a Marine for life. That changed. I use to curse God as I thought everything was his fault. That has changed. I use to think friendships would last forever. That has changed.

So does all this change mean? It means I am alive. Alive to fight. Alive to Love. Alive to cry. Alive to change. God hasn’t finished his works for his pleasure in my life. Some days I am receptive to all the change others I just want to sleep deeply and let the world go by. You ever have those days?

Life goes on things change.

Where God changes a heart

2006-04-11T08:58:00.000-07:00

It has been six months now since we have moved back here. In that time our whole family has grown in one respect or the other. Most of the time from consequences we never thought of. As I write this I am no longer a part of the Ministry as the church we were at had different views about things then we did. We have gone back to the place where it all started for us. I tell you it felt like a ton of bricks was lifted from our shoulders when we walked in there.

As far as writing goes I guess it is a seasonal thing. I really don’t have much to speak of as I am taking the time to find myself and my family again.

S/F

Patrick

Pursuing God

2005-11-03T08:37:00.000-08:00

Pursuing God

Pursuing God is a dangerous endeavor. For it takes us out of our seats of complacency
to places we never imagined we could be.

The journey always opens with the first step taken in fearful faith. Each step thereafter should be taken in faith as well. Mercilessly searching to find how God has planned our
destiny.

Danger lurks in each step we take. As the Fallen Angel tries to kill our faith and devotion. Tripping us up, spinning us around, making us loose our direction.

The wounds he inflicts happen by day and by night. He takes aim and fires at our compassion. Reloads and fire another shot at our hearts. He is their to destroy our love, stifle our maturation. kill our imagination.

The Fallen Angel has taken down many a man or woman in their pursuit of God. Winning them back to the world at hand. Yes pursuing God is dangerous. Not pursuing is more dangerous and more vain.

My pursuit is a daily battle I love to fight. For I know when the enemy attacks. Where he will try to destroy. But each step closer in the pursuit is a punch to his sickening face. Each battle fought leaves it scar but God's love streams through my veins.

Pursuing God is dangerous. It can take a family 1246 miles from a place they called home back to the shores of Californians insanity.

People ask why I pursue God. What is the purpose. Why be a punching bag in the battle of Good and evil? I grant the pursuit brings danger. Yet the reward of a continual pursuit is a graciousness that towers any calamity.

When the pursuit as ended in this world and we stand before God with our crowns in hand. What would be greater then hearing God say. Well done my good and faithful friend?

Pursuing God is dangerous and I love every minute of it. I am nothing without the pursuit. Just a man screwing things up day in and day out. Pursuing God brings me closer to him hopefully out of hell in the end.

Pursuing God is dangerous yes indeed. We fight Satan with each step. We move from complacency to unknown adventures. Not knowing our own road ahead. But knowing we are safe as long as our faces are to the Son.

S/F
Patrick T. McAlister

Trying to Make Christ My First Priority

2005-10-19T18:17:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I have posted anything on this blog. Mainly because I have taken the huge step of moving my Family back to California and starting a full time career in Ministry.

In doing so I have been struggling with trying to Make Christ my first priority above all others. The struggle is one we all find ourselves in. Some turn to anything to find what they think they need. Others turn to an old school doctrine of doing points ( ABC) and expecting that God will grant them all their desires.

To be honest I often thought that way. As long as I prayed, Read the Bible, Went to church, and obeyed the law of the land. God would in turn give me everything I wanted. It didn't happen. Nor do I think it will.

When I set though and look how God formed man in his image... I dig deeper and find how he created me and what he longs from me. It's Not the "ABC's" of life he wants. We wants and desires me just as I am. All my faults as well as all my strengths. He wants me to know him intimately without barriers that Religion places on ones heart.

It has been a struggle moving back. The Cost of living is out the Roof. People still drive like crap. You can smoke Pot all you want, just don't think about exercising your second amendment right to bare arms. All these struggles are of the world. Their stupid when you look at them in detail. Yet I still find myself agitated by the way my home town has turned out. My home state for that matter.

Why is that? The answer is easy. I am letting them. Christ isn't the priority when I struggle with this. Everything else is.

Each day I learn new things about God. Each day I learn that he teaches me in ways I understand so I can better help those that don't even know his name. So I ask myself what is more enjoyable, Bitching about the rat race of California? Or having God's spirit rein it's truth through my soul?

Discernment

2005-09-02T05:22:00.000-07:00

Heavenly Father I come before you a blessed man. You have given me so much and want to give my family so much more. You were with me tonight when I put petty pride aside and sought counsel in my old friend. You were with me when I exploded at the helper you have given me. Father why do I act like such a jack ass at times. Why does it seem the closer I get to actually becoming one of your full-time servants the more I appear to be a selfish jerk?

Father give me discernment in these days. Let me be the husband you want me to be. Let me be the counselor you called me to be. Let your peace and your prompting touch my wife's heart. Father she has traveled every adventure with me. I pray she travels this one as well. Let her stand with me as I go forth in your service. Let Satan take his place behind her. Powerless to twist her mind. Father give me strength to just keep me mouth shut and let my Love show her she will be safe.

I thank you for all you have blessed us with. I thank you for giving time to sit with my friend and listen to his wisdom. Thank you for creating this new heart in me. I know the reason I have this is by the sacrifice of your son. I pray these things through his name.

Amen

The hours have moved on since I last brought you this prayer and I am overwhelmed with emotion. Fear of loosing my wife and Family. Fear of loosing your presence. Fear of disobeying you once more in what you called me to do.. Then I look into my bank account and fear of the moment takes over. Father come wash me clean of all the emotions I am feeling. Slow my mind..Slow my heart. Father God let your desire prevail. Let me have such faith that worry and fear vanish from my mind. Let me sleep in peace. Father all of this world is yours. Hear my cries. And still my mind.

How do I see My God

2005-09-01T04:48:00.000-07:00

How Do I see My God?

When I was young you were so far away. Kept distant by parents that either feared you or rejected you. You were just a deity that I couldn't fathom in

my young mind.

In my youth you were the object of my anger and rage. I thought you took away all I loved and held dear in my twisted mind. You were a God that meant nothing. Not mean nor

were you kind.

I raged against you until you brought me in line. Now I see you as I see my father at times. Gentle and full of hope. Yet when I am off the line you are there with discipline to bring me back

to your inviting hands.

I see you now and don't ever want to look away. Yet I am just a man. I sin.

I fail you time and again. Each time knowing what I have done.

yet somehow you still love me. You still listen when I call you.

You understand.

I see you as love overflowing.

I see you as a friend

I see you as everything

I can never be.

Yet as it is written.

As for me and my house we choose the Lord.

Patrick T. McAlister

What Has Happened to Love

2005-08-28T02:30:00.000-07:00

What has happened to Love?

Has it been so distorted from it's original beauty that it can never be fully redeemed? Will this world go on in the facade of conditional Love? Or will it finally come to see the gift of you and your unyielding beauty?

Has love become nothing more than a trivial endeavor between couples. That when one feels Love is no longer there, they can destroy their mates heart? Through actions and words one decides for better or worse is no longer valid. It's their right to tear the family

apart?

When did Love come with a closed fist striking the face of a woman? Love never read that way in the stories I read. Love was beauty. Love was grand. It was never something to

be left for dead.

What has happened to love? Where two hearts become one. Beating in rhythm to sounds of laughter. Pulsating with pleasure and desire to see that each person grows to their fullest. Holding them as a pleasing sight to the Lord Above.

It is said "No greater Love hath a Man then he lay his life down for a friend." One man had that love for us. He took upon himself our vile existence as he died upon a cross. His love for us opened the door once more to the Love of our Heavenly Father. A love he says will

never end.

We were created to Love like this. Our hearts beat to pump blood yet it's there to love as well. Can we say we will lay our lives down? Or have we perverted Love to such a degree that it's meaning is long silenced. Has Love become a lost crown?

Our Lord loves us with his everything. No matter how screwed up we are he Loves. He wants our love. He demands our devotion and love. Yet it seems we have divorced him. His words are too hard to hear. Even harder to live. So like Adam and Eve we hide. We shield our hearts hoping to not be seen by the Lord above.

Fear has somehow seemed to conquer Love. In vain we live creating truth out of crap fed to us. We dishonor God. We curse him. We reject him. No not all of us. Yet enough to fill the halls of hell to overflowing. Fear has killed love.

Ask your heart what has happened to Love. Can you give it without condition? Can you stand on the precipice of your soul and relinquish control? Knowing the fall will raise you anew. Can you subdue your fears, cry your tears of pain? Then in the depths of your being hold onto to the truth that nothing has happened to Love.

We have just forgotten what Love is.

Patrick T. McAlister