A Knight's Tale

There are a handful of people who might understand the root of this topic. My apologies to those that do not. This is not going to be a cheerful or contemplative entry. However, I do believe you will find it intriguing.

I have had very few nights in the last month and a half where I have slept more than an hour or two. I won't go into it for obvious reasons, but it is needless to say that it is wearing on me. Stresses have been many and difficult, and anxiety is through the roof. Fatigue, fear, loneliness, absolute emotional exhaustion, and anger are my constant companions down a winding path through a thick, dark mist. This is what weighs down on me every second of every day, and it is what most recently spurred a vision or dream. Whatever you want to call it, it is as follows.

The evening prior to my dream was rather difficult and put me in a rather foul mood. And even though I was able to see my favorite girl it just didn't bring me out of my funk. I wanted to break down and just let her take me and tell me I was going to be okay, but it wasn't the time for that. So I went hurriedly home to find my roommates asleep again. Seeing that no one was around, I decided to just go to bed. I said my goodnights to a few people and turned in for what I was hoping would be a long night of rest. I fell asleep around five in the morning and had to be up at eight thirty for church. As I was sleeping I heard a knock at the door. I looked out the window to see who it was. There, I saw a man in rather plain looking clothes (jeans, collared shirt, sandals). He was wearing a name tag that read Jay C. I looked to see if he had a car I might recognize, and I saw a truck that he came in that said A-Z Delivery Service on the side. I thought, "Great. A delivery man at eight in the morning on a Sunday." The odd thing about this delivery man was that he held no package in his hands. I thought nothing of it and turned back over and fell asleep again. Not seconds after I had fallen asleep, a man in a nice suit and slicked back hair rang the doorbell obnoxiously. I once again, almost unwillingly, rolled over to look out the window to see the man outside with a giant box sitting next to him. I put on some clothes and rushed down the stairs. I opened the door and greeted the man and saw that the other delivery man from before was still standing there in the driveway smiling at me. The man in the suit spoke quickly and smoothly, telling me that this package was for me and that I just needed to sign for it. I did so not really understanding his entrancing words and ups and downs in that cool, suave voice. No sooner had I signed than the man dissappeared leaving the other strange delivery man in the doorway, silent, smiling, looking more concerned than before. He took a step forward toward the door but did not enter even though the door was wide open. I waited a moment to see if he would say anything or come in. After what seemed an eternity I rudely shut the door in this man's face and hurried inside to my giant package. As I opened the large box I noticed a note on top that said, "I was thinking especially of you when I picked this out. Your friend, Lou." As I opened the box completely I was overwhelmed with a sense of despair. For the inside of the giant box was...nothing, empty. I huffed my way back up the stairs in disappointment and anger toward the man and toward myself for thinking that anyone I knew would even think of sending me a package that large. I crawled into bed, almost in tears, and tried to fall asleep. I slept for another twenty minutes or so and was awakened by another knock at the door. I looked out the window to see the first delivery truck still sitting there. Irritated, I ignored the man and rolled back over. Ten minutes this time and "knock knock" at the door. Again I turned my back to my bedroom door and fell asleep. Then, silence. After a few more minutes I woke up and realized that I was already late for church. I was frustrated and angry still from the morning's events and that empty package. I sat at the edge of my bed trying to decide if I should get ready for church or just pack it in for the day. After all, I had a really rough night and could feel this negative energy that just seemed to feed my bad mood from the last twenty-four hours. I decided to get up and go to church. I showered and was burned by the water. I couldn't seem to get it any colder. Hurt, confused, and more frustrated I stepped out of the shower and got dressed. The pain seemed to increase the closer I got to being ready. As I headed down the stairs I slipped and rolled my already destroyed ankle. I screamed in pain and spouted off some very nasty curse words. I got up, took some pills, and headed out the door, the frustration ever increasing within me. I got in my car and burned my hands on the steering wheel. The curse storm ensued. I said everything I knew how to say in two different languages. I was beyond frustration now. I was pissed. I made my way to church and sat down. As I entered, however, I noticed a small group of my "friends" that turned their heads toward me and began to talk and giggle about me. Their looks of amusement soon turned into sadness as I looked back with hatred and resentment in my eyes. Now I was not only angry but also upset that I had treated my peers that way. I painstakingly made it through the first meeting even though my ankle was swollen and bruised (even more than before), and the burns on my arms, back, and hands seemed to be more sensitive and painful. I hurried home to find that strange man sitting against our little tree on our small patch of grass in front of the house. I walked past him in a huff, jerked the door to the house open, and slammed it as hard as I could. I had had enough. I broke down in tears; tears of humiliation, disgust, frustration and anger. I hobbled up the stairs and layed in my bed, sobbing the entire time. What had I done to deserve this? Then, I realized why my day went so horribly. The package! I ran downstairs, ignoring my ankle, and saw the once large box on the floor, only now it was the size of a shoe box. I opened it, apprehensively this time, and found another note at the bottom. It was a list of the contents of the package I had received that morning. On the list were some rather familiar things: Pain, suffering, sorrow, despair, hopelesness, loneliness, anger, hatred, lust, envy, jealousy, rage...The list seemed to go on forever. I understood it now. I had allowed these things into my home, into my heart. I felt even worse than before. I moped up the stairs, angry at myself now for being so stupid. I suddenly felt so overwhelmed by the feelings listed in the package that I began to cry...again. I sat down on my bed and looked out the window and through wet eyes I saw the first delivery man standing there still. He still had a smile on his face, but he had large streaks of tears running down his cheeks. I felt guilty and angry at myself for being so rude to him. I knew why I didn't go to him before, why I didn't allow him into my home. I didn't see anything of worth in his arms as I did the other delivery man. I saw no large package with bows and notes wrapped in his arms. I saw a man with nothing to offer me. I sobbed even harder. I could feel the darkness growing stronger, my hatred, my sorrow, worsening. Then, I heard a knock at the door. In anger I ran down the stairs and wrenched the door open to find the man standing there with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. I didn't understand. I was angry and frustrated, and I hated everything about myself and the life I had been given. In all our interactions that morning not one word was spoken between the first delivery man and me. So I asked him, finally, "What do you want?!?!" With tears in his eyes he raised his arms and asked, "Will you let me in?" I was taken aback. His voice was so rough, yet it sounded so comforting. I couldn't help it. I was staring. After a long silence I opened the door a little more and unaware of anything else I let him into my home. Astonished still by the roughness of this man's voice, I followed him into the living room where we both took our seats. I offered the man some water (he had been sitting outside in the heat all day, after all). As I handed him the glass of water I felt his hands, coarse, rough, hardened from years of work. No words were spoken, so I piped up. I asked him if he had a package for me. He put the glass down and opened his hands up to me with his palms up. I looked at them, confused, and was about to ask what he meant when I saw them. There were marks in his hands as if someone had put a hole in them. I saw his wrists, marks. Confused and astonished, I searched his face, that leathery face, for some clue as to what he meant. As I looked a little closer I could see that same smile on his face and those tears still in his eyes. What I saw in his eyes I could never describe in more than a few words. It was me. I saw myself through the tears in his eyes and I began to see not with my eyes but with my heart who he truly was. I saw my Savior sitting in front of me. Through sobs and tears, I exploded with apologies and told him of my shame. I could no longer look him in the eyes, those sweet, deep, clear eyes. I knelt at his feet and begged for forgiveness. I not only felt ashamed, but I felt unworthy of having Him in my home. Why had He waited so long to come in, to tell me who He was? He knelt down and picked me up and held me in His arms, and as if He had read my mind He spoke. "I could not enter on my own but upon your invitation." I felt so relieved as He held me, my Brother, my best friend. He told me of the love He had for me and that He knew of my love for Him. He recounted how He had felt the things I had felt not hours ago. He told of how He understood and wanted to help if only I would ask. Stunned, and feeling totally helpless and at a loss I nodded my head. He gave me one last embrace and walked over to the box on the floor. He closed the top and picked it up. He told me to keep hope in my heart despite the ever growing darkness inside of me. I nodded. There was nothing I could say. I couldn't speak even if I tried. And in an instant He was gone and the box with Him. I felt overwhelmed but not as I had felt before. I was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude and at the same time a sense of unworthiness. Just as I had asked myself in my despair what I had done to deserve that, so I felt about this gift I had received. What had I done to deserve such love, such comfort, such relief?

You know it's funny. I called this a dream, but it was so real to me. I wasn't asleep when I experienced these things. I was awake and though many parts didn't actually take place, they symbolize what I went through today and the choices I made. I really was late for church. I really did burn myself in the shower and in my car. I really did hurt my ankle even worse. I really did feel the things I felt that came from the package. And I really did have a conversation with my elder Brother. It's hard to explain. But, know this. We all have bad days...hell, I'm still having one. But He has already paid the price. We just have to decide who we will let in our home and why. Will it be out of greed that we allow Lou and his suited friend into our home, because he had a grand gift for us? Something we could see and touch? Or...Will we allow the lowly, smiling, and rather persistent man into our home? Free of a tangible and visible gift? I made the wrong choice. I suggest you make the right one.

At any rate, I am not trying to give advice, because anyone that knows me knows that I am not in the position to do so. I feel like I've been sobbing all day and still feel really down. But I at least have a taste for what good there is inside of me still and His willingness to take the bad away. I suggest that you let Him.

I love you all. I don't know what good is left inside me or what strength, but I promise to strive to be a better man, a better son, a better brother, a better uncle, and a better friend. I leave you today with a portion of one of my favorite songs which has been stuck in my head and heart for days now.

"Lay down your sweet and weary head. Night is falling. You have come to journey's end. Sleep now, and dream of the ones who came before. They are calling from across the distant shore. Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see all of your fears will pass away. Safe, in my arms, you're only sleeping. What can you see on the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea a pale moon rises. The ships have come to carry you home. And all will turn to silver glass. A light on the water all souls pass into the west."

Til next time. Stay tuned...

That's a good title for this post. Expendability. That is the feeling I have had for some time and one of my deepest fears in life. I fear that one day I will be labeled as expendable by those closest to me.

As the title of the blog suggests (A Knight's Tale), I have what some people inaccurately call a hero complex. I like to look at it as an ability to love. I happen to believe that love is a verb and not a noun, not as a feeling but as an action. It is not only felt but more importantly expressed through action, devotion, compromise, and sacrifice. Therefore, if that is the definition of a hero complex then I am happy to oblige. However, I have felt most recently that I have run my course with those closest to me. I feel like it is time to hang up the cape, to put away the armor. As I have strived to help those around me I have lost that innate ability to reach people when no one esle can, to help other people when others cannot in situations that no one seems to understand. As one with a "hero complex" it is the worst feeling and the lowest to feel and especially realize that you are no longer needed, that your abilities have diminished. I have felt this way increasingly over the last few years. My signal is no longer being lit in the sky to call for the aide that is so desperately needed. I have been ousted from the lineup. I have been pushed far from the hearts of those that until recently called on the one they knew would be there.

As I have seen those that once before called my name in their darkest moments slip away and confront the world alone, I feel helpless, unable to reach out and make my presence known. However, through all of that I have realized that the reason I am no longer needed is not because I am not wanted but mostly that I am no longer that source of strength. As afraid as I am to let go of those I love to face the world and her many trials and hardships, I am comforted to see the strength that is manifest in their expressions, the conviction and fearlessness in their eyes. And it is only then that I am able to see past the feeble humanity that we all carry and see a brave soul, fearless and strong.

As I was having these feelings and certain realizations I also began to discover something even more comforting. My greatest worry for people is that they might feel alone and afraid. So mostly I guess that though I will have to hang up the cape and retire that armor, I at least wanted them to know that I am willing and able to be that source of strength still. However, my realization is this: That though I may not be able to serve as I once did, that those who really trust in me will never feel alone and afraid simply because of the comforting thought that I am not too far away. And though it is difficult for me to realize that even "heroes" need help sometimes, I have come to rely on one man to make up the difference, to be my caped crusader, my armored knight, and my source of constant strength and comfort. And it has made all the difference knowing that He is there.

I realize that this sounds a bit whiney and odd to some, but you would have to know me deeply to understand my desire to do good in the world, to protect the vulnerable, to comfort the burdened and weary. And, though I may not be very good at it I have devoted much of my time and all of my love to those who I hold in my heart. That will never change. My ability to sweep in and fix the situation may be diminished, but my ability to love unconditionally has increased one hundred fold.

An experience I just had through a very special friend taught me that unconditional love is essential to the human experience. I had been so angry for so long that I had forgotten how much I loved her and that no matter what happened or would happen I would always be able to give of that love. I was blinded by my pride and frustration that I could not see past myself and I failed her. Even in the aftermath of the event I have hated myself for forgetting. I let this friend down when I was needed the most. So out of all that has happened and all that I have expressed I have the resolve that I will always be ready and that I will never forget the love I feel for those who I hold closest to my heart. It was sad that such a grand experience had to happen to make me realize it, but now that I know it, I cannot falter.

It's funny how I need those big eye-openers to happen in order for me to get the message. It is as if someone is screaming it in my ear and cramming the feeling into my heart, but I hear nothing and ignore the feeling. It is easy to forget others and move on with our lives without so much as another thought. I personally have so many stresses and overwhelming issues that I have forgotten some of the greatest things about my life: friends, family, etc. Well, recently I had an enlightening conversation with my friend Laura. She reminded me of a very humbling fact. She said, quoting the title of a talk, "Life is a series of a thousand miracles." As I pondered that phrase I began to realize that it holds true in every way. The more I focused on the negative overwhelming issues and problems that life, especially my life, has offered I realized the importance of recognizing the small miracles that happen every day.

Well, this experience with my dear friend and how I felt I let her down has not only made my conviction to love unconditionally stronger but also my reslolution to look at the miracles of everyday. I have an amazing family who I love more deeply than I could ever express and with whom I share a deep and unbreakable bond. I have wonderful friends who put up with my insanity, who try their hardest to love a weak being, and for whom I would give my life. So as I ponder the miracles of my life I can't help but think what a miracle it is to have this friend here now, not to protect and rescue, but to just be there through the bad times and the good ones too. She is my miracle. And I am grateful for her and for that sobering and humbling fact.

In conclusion. The cape is hung up, the armor retired, but my heart is full and open to the opportunities that the future has in store. All I have to do is remember my miracle and the many miracles to follow.

Stay tuned...I'm back and running at full capacity!

I have nothing clever to say today. I just want to get some things off my freakin' chest. You know, a blog is a great thing? When I type all this crap in here I get no response, no rebuttal, and no back-talk from it. It's like the greatest friend ever.

I oftentimes become rather frustrated at life, or maybe, more specifically at the people in my life. I am a giver. I'm not much of a receiver. I don't like to be gifted too many things. So, I give. I love to give. I give straight from the heart, too. It's not just some "Oh yeah. No problem. I will see what I can do" give. It is a give of the soul. I like to give everything that I am to the people I love. However, lately I have felt very unappreciated by those to whom I am closest. And I rarely, if ever, receive anything in return. Granted, I have asked for help, and there have been some friends and family who have given gladly of their time and resources. No matter what I do it is either not enough, too much, or it goes unnoticed. Well, frankly, I am tired of giving it all. I am kind of becoming tired of giving at all. I have rarely heard a reply of thanks or anything of the sort in the last eight months. Tired. That's all I can really say about it. So, no more offering I suppose. No more sweeping in, cleaning up the pieces, being the shoulder, the last chance. No more.

"Hello Darkness my old friend." That's what I am sure comes to mind when you read the title. I can assure you that the title has nothing to do with the song. It simply and cleverly depicts what I will be writing about.

As I was thinking about today's topic I came across a minor problem. I have too much to write about and not enough talent with which to exploit such ideas. Nevertheless, I shall attempt such an exploitation of ideas.

When I began this endeavor I thought I would start every blog with a witty phrase or a pun. Now, I don't really feel that such a phrase is a good fit. However, I digress.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with Blog, and the Word was Blog.