I was reading this today, and it really struck a chord with me. Not quite sure what it is, but most of Seamus Heaney's poetry stands out to me.

Casualty

I

He would drink by himself
And raise a weathered thumb
Towards the high shelf,
Calling another rum
And blackcurrant, without
Having to raise his voice,
Or order a quick stout
By a lifting of the eyes
And a discreet dumb-show
Of pulling off the top;
At closing time would go
In waders and peaked cap
Into the showery dark,
A dole-kept breadwinner
But a natural for work.
I loved his whole manner,
Sure-footed but too sly,
His deadpan sidling tact,
His fisherman's quick eye
And turned observant back.

Incomprehensible
To him, my other life.
Sometimes on the high stool,
Too busy with his knife
At a tobacco plug
And not meeting my eye,
In the pause after a slug
He mentioned poetry.
We would be on our own
And, always politic
And shy of condescension,
I would manage by some trick
To switch the talk to eels
Or lore of the horse and cart
Or the Provisionals.

But my tentative art
His turned back watches too:
He was blown to bits
Out drinking in a curfew
Others obeyed, three nights
After they shot dead
The thirteen men in Derry.
PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said,
BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday
Everyone held
His breath and trembled.

II

It was a day of cold
Raw silence, wind-blown
Surplice and soutane:
Rained-on, flower-laden
Coffin after coffin
Seemed to float from the door
Of the packed cathedral
Like blossoms on slow water.
The common funeral
Unrolled its swaddling band,
Lapping, tightening
Till we were braced and bound
Like brothers in a ring.

But he would not be held
At home by his own crowd
Whatever threats were phoned,
Whatever black flags waved.
I see him as he turned
In that bombed offending place,
Remorse fused with terror
In his still knowable face,
His cornered outfaced stare
Blinding in the flash.

He had gone miles away
For he drank like a fish
Nightly, naturally
Swimming towards the lure
Of warm lit-up places,
The blurred mesh and murmur
Drifting among glasses
In the gregarious smoke.
How culpable was he
That last night when he broke
Our tribe's complicity?
'Now, you're supposed to be
An educated man,'
I hear him say. 'Puzzle me
The right answer to that one.'

III

I missed his funeral,
Those quiet walkers
And sideways talkers
Shoaling out of his lane
To the respectable
Purring of the hearse...
They move in equal pace
With the habitual
Slow consolation
Of a dawdling engine,
The line lifted, hand
Over fist, cold sunshine
On the water, the land
Banked under fog: that morning
I was taken in his boat,
The screw purling, turning
Indolent fathoms white,
I tasted freedom with him.
To get out early, haul
Steadily off the bottom,
Dispraise the catch, and smile
As you find a rhythm
Working you, slow mile by mile,
Into your proper haunt
Somewhere, well out, beyond...

Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.

unlovable

You turn away from them, stab them in the back, then watch them run away.
everything feels just fine.

You turn away from them, stab them in the back, then watch them come running back to you.
it hurts so much more.

As Christians, we are not only supposed to, but we are commanded to love. Love everyone.

I write this as a failing Christian.

What do you do when you yourself have contributed to the hypocritical stereotype of the church, where you turn your back on those who don't have the perfect record? The church is supposed to be a refuge for all, most especially sinners. If the church is closed to them, where can they go but back to their sin, that welcomes and embraces them?

We are not taught to only love those who are easy to love.
We are not taught to feed the satisfied.
We are not taught to embrace the beautiful.

We are taught to love the unlovable.
We are taught to satisfy the hungry.
We are taught to embrace the wretched.

What purpose is the house of God if not as a haven for those steeped in their sins? Have we lost sight of the true ministry? Jesus didn't avoid the company of the unrighteous, he relished it. He sought out the miserable, the sickly, the pitiful. He held company among the adulterers, the whores, the liars, the beggars. And here we are, with barely the ability to reach out to even one soul in need.

I'm guilty of a crime of omission.

The Bible says that if you know the right thing to do, and still you do not do it, then you have sinned.

I am so guilty.

Tired

I'm tired of being told how to live. I'm tired of having social expectations. I'm tired of people always looking to blame anyone but themselves. I'm tired of Political Correctness. I'm tired of everybody being afraid of offending someone. I'm tired of the silent majority and its counterpart, the screaming, and unfortunately irrepressible, minority.

Get out.
Say what you believe.
Offend someone.
Become the majority with a voice.

The knotted stomach,
The shaky hands,
The persistent nausea,
And of course,
The inability to focus on any task at hand.

Then you wonder,
Have you been given an opportunity,
Or a get out of jail free card?
(The latter please...)

Calculus + Grrrr

Call it what you will (peer pressure anyone?), but I too have felt a compulsion to unleash my innermost thoughts on you, my most evil rival, calculus.

I'm just gonna have to say that I don't get it. I mean, I don't get calculus, as is apparent by my ever declining grades in class, but I don't get why it is so difficult to understand. Until this year, I would have been quick to tell any who would listen that I was indeed a math-person. I got math. I liked math. I liked the challenge. I liked the ease with which I grasped new concepts, while others around me began to faulter and fail.

I liked math.

I'd like to take this moment to put into words a conversation that I had. It was between me, and a certain faceless character named Calculus. This was the conversation that took place:

Me: Hi, I'm Spencer, I like math, I'm smart.

Calculus: Oh yea, let's see what we can do about that.

Me: Ouch! That hurts, you are crushing my head with nonsensical symbols and formulas that everyone insists I may need, but everyone knows they never will!

Calculus: So, what do you think of math now?

Me: I hate it! I hate you! You're a monster! Damn you! Damn you to Hell! Burn! You spawn of Satan!

It wasn't really a good day dream, but I like to think that if Calculus was a person that he (because everyone knows calculus couldn't possibly be a girl since girls have brains much too small to be able to comprehend such a manly topic) would be such a douche... But maybe, just maybe, we're too hard on Calculus. Maybe, he's a bully because that's all he knows...

Calculus: [Sob] Mom! Nobody gets me! Everybody hates me! I have no friends!

Calculus' Mom: Honey! That's not true! I'm sure lots of people like you!

Calculus: Oh yea!? Who?

Calculus' Mom: Well... Uhh... I'm sure that smart young Tilley child likes you!

Calculus: No... He just wrote a blog, and it said he didn't like me. They say I'm a bully and that I'm too hard and difficult to understand...

Calculus' Mom: Well, are you? I wasn't going to say anything, but I did get some calls from kids at school's mothers, and they weren't to happy about what you were doing to their kids. Honey, maybe you should just ease up on them, you know, drop the random symbols and algebra. Maybe you should start hanging out with Algebra 1, he might rub off on you.

Calculus: You think?

Calculus' Mom: Of course honey! You just need to loosen up and be nicer, then they'll be sure to love you!

Calculus: Okay, I'll try mom. Thanks for talking with me.

Calculus' Mom: Anytime honey, you know I'm here for you.

Maybe one day, a conversation like that will actually happen, and the world will be filled with Calculus-lovers not Calculus-haters. Until that day, FIGHT THE POWER!!

The Choice is Mine Yours

I guess it's the way things work. Simple economics will tell you that eventually, no matter how high something is, it will come down.

Life is very much this way- a general feeling of happiness, interrupted by spurts of intense emotion.

I've heard it said that even a blind squirrel finds some nuts, or even a broken clock is right twice a day, meaning that everybody's always right sometime.

However, I think a more applicable interpretation would be, "Even the happiest have sad days."

It almost seems like a cruel fate that no matter what, there will always be points of sadness in our lives.

We have two choices when we do hit these potholes in our metaphorical happy highways:

A) Give up. Life's too difficult, you wouldn't have made it anyway. Besides, if you're not trying, then you can't possibly fail. right?

B) Suck it up. Life is difficult, that's what makes it a challenge. "That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger" may not apply, but at least you're still alive, that's gotta mean something. Today may not have been a peak day, but if you don't give up, you've got the most valuable thing- a second chance. Tomorrow is another day, and if you can't make things better by tomorrow, you've always got the day after. It will get better.

Give up, or suck it up, the choice is mine yours.

No more.

It seems that I am out of ideas to write about.
No more material to go on a tirade about.
No more epiphanies of great magnitude.
No more strong negative emotions to fuel introversion.
No more darkness that hangs over me, threatening to engulf me.
No more anxiety over an indistinct future.

I'm just plain old happy.

thanks.

Judas's Carrot (Judas Iscariot)

Judas Iscariot, the timeless villain? Or exaggerated sinner, sentenced to be forever remembered by his darkest moments?

It seems that so many are quick to blame Judas for Jesus death, and they have good reason to do so, however the utter disgust that he is viewed with disturbs me. Judas was a man! We all sin! The unfortunate fact for this particular man is that his sins will forever be remembered in writing.

I think that one of the reasons that there is such universal dislike for Judas is due to the fact that nearly all can see themselves within him. And they hate it.

It's ironic, but as humans, we are often appalled by those who possess character flaws similar to our own. It is the thief who is most angry when stolen from, the liar when misled, the adulterer when cheated upon, and so forth. Perhaps there is some truth to the statement that we hate Judas, because we can relate to him. We are afraid of the simple truth-- we are just like him. That we are all capable of condemning even the Savior of this world. And we hate him. We hate him for opening our eyes to the horrible deeds that we are capable of.

Judas was a disciple. To all around him, he was a fine example, however as we now know, his heart was not always in the right place. As the disciple responsible for the money, he often succumbed to greed and withdrew some for himself. In fact, it was greed that led him to hand over Jesus as well.

Who among us has never succumbed to greed?

Let us try to embrace him, as we would a brother in need. Embrace him because we are alike. Embrace him because we are no better.

-because we're not.

Memories

I like to drive. It gives me time to think, time to reflect upon myself. When I'm driving I immerse myself in my thoughts, hardly paying attention to the journey, for my mind is far from where I drive.

Often, I have much to reflect upon on my drive home from small-groups. Tonight was no different.

My thought process began with a song- Heard the World. As I listened to it, I was flooded with memories of when I first heard this very song. While, half-naked tanning on the roof during a church trip may sound unappealing to some, to me it is a fond memory.

My thoughts then took another direction. I began to weigh the value of memories. Memories are priceless. The very sight of a picture can flood one with emotions, a smell can trigger a smile, even terrible songs can bring back fond memories.

And as I pondered, I realized what I most fear. I fear, that one day I will begin to lose my memory. I fear that things that I now hold dear will be forever lost to me. I fear that I will cease to be me.

For without memories there cannot be a self. If I lose my memories, then I will surely lose myself.

Technically, this point can be argued, but let me divulge my reasoning behind my statement.

I have made many mistakes in my short life, if I had no memory of them, what would prevent me from repeating them? There are so many that I love and hold dear, what would prevent them from becoming blank faces, forever lost to me?

I am afraid that one day I will lose my memory. I will cease to be me. Surely I will still exist, but a lifetime of memories and learning will vanish, leaving a withering shell.

Maybe I don't fear so much what will become of me, but more how much pain will be thrust upon those who love me. I would rather not even imagine the pain of being forgotten by someone whom you love. How would my children feel if they were suddenly just another face in the crowd?

And so, I pray that when I leave this earth, it will be with all of the knowledge, and all of the love that I have garnered on my short time here. Don't let me lose it.

Terry

Tonight, I had dinner with a stranger.

He has been working his whole life, mostly part-time jobs.
He's lived in every state, even Canada and Mexico.

Lately he's lost a lot of work due to the influx of Hispanics.
But he's not bitter.
Lately he's been having financial troubles.
But he's not worried.
Lately he's been forced to resort to humiliating means for money.
But he's not humiliated.

Lately he's been living under a bridge.
But he's not complaining.

His name is Terry, he's well into his 50's, possibly even 60's, and homeless.

The most amazing thing is, he lives life one day at a time without worry. He confessed to me that his favorite verses dealt with how we are like sheep, and the Lord is our shepherd, caring for us through all things.

This guy lives on $10 a day, the least we can do is be thankful for what we have in such abundance.

Contentment. It's a word that is often overused, a word that many like to use to avoid questions, a thing that is often just out of reach.

Good thing i have long arms, cause right now, nothing's out of reach.

Little Things

Today was a tough day. Monday's normally suck, but today had a little extra suck in it. I was tired, my oj-sprite mix was off, I forgot two homework assignments, and I had a quiz in Spanish.
Altogether not exactly the ideal Monday.

Until I got out to my car, where a most excellent mix, unbeknowsnt to me, sat on my seat.

thank you.

Everyone Has a Story.

This weekend I talked to God.

I was watching a fire, watching it dance as if it were trying not to burn itself, thinking over my story, and I began to talk to God. He didn't have a booming voice with a slight English accent, nor did I see any lights other than that of the fire, but nevertheless, I'm certain it was real.

A thousand questions were running through my mind, but three were repeated more often than the rest.

Why did you let it happen? Why didn't you step in? Why didn't you tell me where I was headed?!

Then the most extraordinary thing happened, something that I have never experienced, something that was to me, totally unexpected.
He answered.

would you have listened?

And that was it.

With one question, He had answered all of mine. With one question, I was calmed. With one question, I regained my trust in Him.

He had never left me, not even close. I had left Him.

But I'm back.

Everyone has a story, it's just a matter of listening.

The good thing about our live's stories, is that they don't have to end. There is no author that decides that this will be a story ending in tragedy, expressing a fundamental flaw in our character. There is no governing force that lays hold of our fate. There is no plot outline that we must follow. Everyone has a story.

Ever had one of those times?

Have you ever had one of those times when you do something, on accident of course, and everyone gets mad at you, but you thought it was funny until you realize that they aren't really sharing in the joke, then you start getting upset cause you just messed up their stuff and then they realize its not such a huge deal so they try to tell you that its okay but you know its not and that they hate your guts and even try to drive off without you, but by some miraculous force, they accidentally hit the unlock button on their car, allowing you to get in and get a ride home instead of walking the 5 miles, and all the while they're playing john mayer and plotting how to get their revenge on you for spilling hot chocolate on their jacket, and then you're afraid to see them at school cause you know there's gonna be like a mob that's gonna jump you and pour hot chocolate all over your nice school clothes and then probably kick you or something?

Cause, that happened to me.

Responsibilties

It seems that epiphanies are becoming a common theme in my life lately. It hit me today, I am on the very edge of something very important. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I know that something is happening that will forever be a part of me.

I'm 18. Legally that makes me an adult, although the scary part is, I don't feel anything closer to being one. Now, not only can I live for my country, but I can die as well. I can marry. I can garner credit. I can buy a house. Oh and there's also the little fact that I can completely ruin my life by making poor decisions now.

There is, I believe, a point in most everyone's life where they realize that they are no longer a child, that they will in fact eventually grow up, despite what Peter Pan may have led them to believe.

Tonight, it hit me.

I have been planning for the past 3 months to spend 8 days in England with my family. A vacation from school, from responsibilities, from all that is piling up. A week of bliss, without cares.

But I am no longer a child.

Unfortunately for me, I never stopped growing up, and now whether I want to accept it or not, I am an adult. I can't run away from my responsibilities. As an adult, I cannot just forget about my obligations. A vacation would merely be me running away, postponing the inevitable.

So tonight, I have decided. I am not going to England. I am staying home for school, something I never would have imagined myself doing. I am pushing pleasure to the side. I am taking up responsibility. I am changing.

I'm Spencer, and I am an adult.
This really is a new me. I just hope that this new person is who I really want to be.

Blogs

Blogs are great, people have done all sorts of stuff with 'em.

You can vent. You can whine. You can write well. You can write terribly. You can talk about other people without them knowing it. You can have your parents get all sorts of emails from the pornography detector on your computer cause 'naked' is in the address of your blog.
Heck, you could even ask Chelsea to homecoming if you were so inclined.

COUGGHH

a first for blogging kind? i think so.

Change. (it's not always bad)

In the past, I made the decision to cut someone out of my life. The choice to entirely remove someone that was such a big part of my life was more difficult than I could ever have imagined. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make.

In the week leading up to my decision, I felt emotionally drained. So much of my thoughts and emotions were tied up in this single decision. It was all I thought about, all I was concerned about. The whole week I knew what I had to do, and yet I still procrastinated. The biggest concern to me was the fact that there was no possible outcome without hurt feelings and anger. I kept thinking there had to be some alternative not yet discovered, some way around the confusion and hurt that would surely follow. Even I hardly understood my motives, how could she possibly grasp them?

Midway through the week, in the midst of my turmoil, I met with a group of close friends. They listened to my conflicted thoughts and without passing judgment, gave me sound advice. They acted as the catalyst that I needed to finally go through with my choice. I now knew, without doubt what I must do. I knew that I could not wait any longer, because in doing so I would only add to the inevitable hurt. I knew I had to act that very night.

My thoughts on the ride home from meeting with my friends were the clearest they had been all week. I finally understood that it was not my obligation to raise others up while I sank deeper and deeper. I needed to make drastic changes in my life, and this was a necessary one. I could not allow myself to be compromised merely to make another happy. I needed to cut my ties.

I will never forget that night’s phone conversation. She was so quiet. I tried my best to explain why I was doing this to her, but how can you explain something you barely understand yourself? I shook for half an hour after that phone call. Maybe I should have done it in person, but how could I have with her eyes staring back at me? I couldn’t understand why the right thing had to be so difficult to do. Why couldn’t I keep the same friends and just change my lifestyle?

Even now, I have moments when I wonder if I could have made the changes that I needed to make and still have kept her in my life. Could I have left the drugs and alcohol with her beside me? In the end, however painful it may have been, it was what I needed to do. I could not change without completely removing myself from that lifestyle, and those in it. If I was given the opportunity to go back and do it again, I don’t think I would change anything. It was painful, but the effect was immediate. At first, the change was barely perceptible, but it was there. I had made a tough decision, and I am growing because of it. Every day, I change.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what it means to me.

I'll tell you what it means to me, or rather what it meant.
Respect is giving me the opportunity to explain myself. Respect is listening. Respect is valuing my opinion Respect is not jumping to conclusions. Respect is trusting me.

tonight, i had an epiphany; a realization that, while not entirely good, will allow me to change.

i have an issue with respect, i cling to the world's definition of it. i rarely give respect unless i receive it. case in point with my previous post.

but i'm wrong. at least from a certain book's standpoint

this book claims that respect is something entirely different from what i have been taught to believe. it claims that respect is something i should forever be looking to give, and never seeking to receive. it claims that i should respect all. most especially those who do not return it. it claims that although some may return the favor, many will not, and will likely hate me all the more for it.

pretty enticing isn't it.

let me try this again.
Respect was giving me the opportunity to explain myself. Respect was listening. Respect was valuing my opinion Respect was not jumping to conclusions. Respect was trusting me.

Respect is never looking for justice, but never ceasing to give it.
Respect is loving them.

The Day I Almost Drove No More

"Now your just being smart with me!"

"I'm sorry, I've just had a long da-"

"Give me your license."

"...really? ..."

"Not your wallet, your damn license! Pull over there."

So began the almost-revocation of my license, and right in the church parking lot. It started with a rather confused me. I was pulling out of the North entrance/exit when I was confronted with a dilemma. There was a sign that directed left turning traffic to one side, and right turning to another, however the left turning lane was what is normally the entrance from Muirs Chapel Road. I was about to follow the sign despite my confusion, when I noticed the three cars in front of me all turn left. From the supposed right turn lane. So, I did what probably most would; I followed the crowd... (authors note: baaaad idea)

Just as I was about to turn left, the voice of Johnny Law yelled at me.

"You can NOT turn left there!," he drew out 'cannot' as long as he could, "This is a right turn only!"

"I'm sorry, It's just confusing."

"No. It's not." He made sure to make it as obvious as he could that I was a complete idiot.

Now, I may not be the smartest person ever, but it is well-ingrained in my head that opinions cannot be contested. People can't argue about how one feels, either a person feels a certain way, or they don't. You can't just change their mind by arguing... Actually, let me rephrase that; Officers of the law can argue opinions, because they are the ultimate authority before God...

"Actually, it is confusing to me..."

"Why are you trying to turn left in a right turn lane?!"

"I was following the three cars ahead of me."

"So you just follow wherever people go?"

"..."

"Lemme ask you something. If it's a 35 mph speed limit, and everybody is doing 75, what do you do?"

(annnd here's where i probably went wrong...)

"74 mph"

"Excuse me?! How old are you?!"

"18..."

"I have the authority to revoke your license right here! If I think you're not capable of following simple signs! Do you understand me!?"

"...yep..."

Again, probably the wrong time for sarcastic tone, but what the heck, I was on a roll. After my slightly less-than-sincere affirmation, he proceeded to ask for my license, all the while getting angrier and angrier for no apparent reason. My lack of emotion/sincerity may have been a contributing factor, but the guy was a douche. If there is one thing that I can't stand, and often take a stand against, it would be people who believe that they have power over another individual for some idiotic reason such as a uniform. Last time I checked, being confused wasn't against the law, and for that matter, neither is 'being smart'. I had done nothing illegal, what kind of a tyrannical sonuvabitch would try to pull something like this...

He then proceeded to ask to speak to my parents, who by chance were still at church. The best part was listening to him tell the best lie ever. I was apparently a snobbish teen that at 18 thought I ruled the world and refused to listen to him when he informed me of the error of my ways. My mom being completely sympathetic towards him made it pretty clear that I owed him an apology. So, I apologized. But guess what! I didn't mean it! Haha take that one you power-hungry pig!

And that, was my after-church adventure of the day.

-S

P.S. Don't ever try to argue with me about how I feel. If you do, you're an idiot, plain and simple.

this ones for tilley. a little more me-ish stuff. if you know me, chances are good you've heard this rant of mine, but its ever present in the forefront of my mind...

you try to get comfortable in the perfectly upright, semi-padded chair, but its a losing battle. although even the most comfortable chair would do little to calm the churning in your gut. the walls are all light pastel colors, supposedly soothing, but everyone knows thats not true. nobody talks to eachother. everybody pretends to be interested in their magazine, usually golf digest or some accredited medical journal. nobody smiles, nobody laughs. you're in the doctors office. its time for your physical...

very few men have been brave enough to openly discuss the horrors and emotions involved in physicals. that is, until now...

[note from the author: explicit text about 'man parts' follows]

likely the single most anxiety causing thing in a mans life is a physical. i doubt that you lucky girls get to experience half of what us men must endure, and unless you get a rubber-clad hand stuck up in your 'business', then you dont.

to put it plainly, physicals suck. they really do. all the anxiety begins when you get that fateful call from the doctors office telling you its time for your physical. The first fear that strikes you is; will my doctor be a man or, God forbid, a woman...

once in the doctors office, you have to have that little pre-game chat with your "little buddy" making sure he doesn't decide to rear his ugly head. There could be nothing worse than having your aforementioned "buddy" decide to see whats up while the doctor is going through the "turn your head and cough" part...

(I can't believe i just wrote that... I'm so ashamed ...)

actually, i think i'm just gonna stop there. seeing as i have no real anonymity, everyone will know it was me that wrote this, which could cause some awkward moments...

time to go to bed ha

more me-ish

I think it's safe to say that most anyone who reads my last post wouldn't know it was me. Why is this, you may ask. Well, my last post was deep, thought out, and slightly meaningful, and for the most part, I am not. Haha so let's see if I can write something a little more me-ish.

I think I'll start with dropping correct punctuation and capitalization right about now...
everyone always makes a fuss about punctuation and capitalization, but for the most part, people can get by and understand things just fine without them. take e.e. cummings, he pretty well showed that you can be legit and not give a rats hoo ha about punctuation. i like it.

my night? its pretty much consisted of sitting at the computer, pretending to do homework but really looking for the precious parts i need to fix my bike. if you dont know, then lemme fill you in on something. i like music. a lot. but before i was into music i raced motocross. two wheels, that was my real passion. after some nasty falls and a couple of hospital trips i backed off a little, and ended up selling my dirtbike for musical equipment. buttt noww im back on (or was back on) two wheels. i have dreams that are wet (see also: wet dreams) about that handsome bike in my garage. its kind of a big deal.

haha but back to my night... earlier today a certain somebody who will remain nameless drank most of the drink that was meant for my lunch. so tonight, i made two bottles for tomorrow. 3/4 orange juice, 1/4 sprite or 7up. its amazing. the only problem is i didn't have two empty water bottles, and i felt bad pouring them out... so i drank two one-liter water bottles... for those of you who are mathelogically impaired thats 2 liters of cool clear water. i now have the stomach of a 5 month pregnant woman, and annny minute now i feel like my 'water' is gonna break...

i feel a little better having a blog that will probably be recognizable to my friends now. i'll leave the fancy writing to that nate guy and stick to my wild and crazy punctuation-less style. it just feels like its a little more me-ish now.

peace

This is for you.

If there's one thing I won't miss about election season, it'll most certainly be the herds of narcissistic women spouting their right to choose whether or not "their baby" may live.

I never cease to be amazed at how well these women have convinced themselves that they should be able to kill the most innocent of humans without so much as a second thought. Perhaps they just want to believe that a scared decision made in their teens was justified...

My mother was once pregnant. I believe she was 19. The timing was all wrong and a baby would be much too inconvenient. Besides, the father was out of the picture and she had her whole life ahead of her. A child would only hold her back. So, she listened to the advice of her friends. She had an abortion.

Jump to about 25 years later. She has freed herself from the grief she suffered, reconciled with God, and now counsels women who want abortions. She has matured immensely since her decision and uses the pain she suffered to reach a young generation of strays.

Tonight, it struck me for the first time. I could have had a brother or sister.

The bond between a parent and their children is immense, and yet nothing compared to that shared between siblings. Sure, siblings fight, a lot. In fact, some of the worst battles I have ever fought were between my own siblings, however there remains a certain bond. What I am trying to say (and failing miserably), is that I could have shared my life with another sibling. My childhood could have been spent with an addition.

I love my brother and sister more than anything in this world. I love them more than my parents. It's a painful realization, but I love them more than God... I cannot even begin to imagine how my life would have been different, and likely better, with another sibling.

I guess I'll have to settle for waiting until I die or Christ comes to meet you.

Today is a new day. This is for you.