Unsettling Waters

Sometimes we think we have it all figured out. As if everything we do is under control. We can order our own steps, forge our own way, blaze our own personal trail. We have our own personal desires and personal plans. But those plans are not always completed in the ways we desire. We fight, claw, and press our way into premature arrivals to our desired destinations. But yet our dreams do not always come true no matter how many stars we wish upon, or how many nickels we throw into our wells of good wishing. We hope to see that our life are a fairy tale.

But our lives are no Disney story, happy endings are not an every day thing. A magical mouse, fairy dust, and tinker bell are not everyday occurrences. And through all of this when the things we think we love and care for…soon become the things we love, care for and cannot live with out. We see in our minds ourselves playing out every possible situation imaginable to overcome this dilemma. We also see every negative outcome possible in this situation. We see it vividly whether it be because of situations in the past or fear or worst of all a combination of both. It gnaws at us lying a dying rat with typhus, infecting every part of our brain until it consumes us down to our very core. We don’t see the possible joy and an exuberant outcome, only the heartache knowing we have lost something so very precious to us.

Regret soon floods the mind. The “shoulda, woulda, couldas” invade and permeate every cell until our entire body cries out begging for restoration. But restoration will not come. We are told to wait and be patient and hold on. The wait though it may be short in time drags on for decades in our lives. Each waking day holding a new challenge and nothing more than a hope to survive and make it through. We try to reconcile with hobbies praying that our minds are taken off of the pain of the current situation. We try to be patient, but in times like these patience is not a virtue found in our emotional and physical vocabulary. It strains us till we are at our wits end, devoured by thoughts of reconciliation. Holding on to us is like a man holding to a sharp ledge of a bridge overhanging the waters of doom and destruction. Our arms begin to quake and trembling, the sharp sting of cramps soon invades our muscles and we cry to be lifted out of this. But yet no help comes and we remain clinging to hope and love off of this bridge called fate. And this is only day one.

We find ourselves on our knees pleading with God for what we want. But yet we fail to recognize that what we want and we think is pure, powerful, and perfect for our lives may not be. And that pains us even more. We forget that the master designer and creator has our best interest in mind. We beg for mercy and forgiveness for past sins believing that it is something in our past that is causing this pain. We forget the immortal words of our savior in praying “Thy will be done.” Instead we plead to the father and the son interceding on our behalf….”my will be done.”

What causes this phenomena of pain and suffering? Why do we put ourselves through this agony. One four letter word that has more deadly power than an atom bomb and a lasting bond with eternal fortitude. Love. IT and only it is the motivator and creator for such pain. We find ourselves asking the question will we ever love again. Can we ever love again? And yet we are still in the midst of a personal raging tempest with no means of escape, victory, or rescue.

God save us poor souls searching for that lighthouse of serenity and peace. Grant us safe passage and clear visibility as we sail those rough waves with trepidation. May we be able to take our hand off of the helm and trust you to guide our mast. May we find peace and closesure in whatever may be the outcome of our journey. For you calm the seas. You created them just as you did us, these perilous waves, and love. May you guide us safely to port and once we are there, Lord give us peace. Amen

The Heart of a Champion

Well the Patriot men did it again...the ever elusive three peat as east regional champions. It was an intense game...one i will never forget for as long as i live. They played hard and almost let the game slip away but in the end they emerged victorious. Their victory made me think. As i looked around the room i saw their devastated fans, in utter shock at what had just occurred. I saw my friends and soccer teammates who all they can think about is their chance to hoist that championship banner. Then i began to ponder what really is a true champion? Is it someone who wins the championship game, or is it the attitude of that player who plays their heart out whether they are down by 2 or 20 till the end of the game? Is it just merely a title or is it a mindset. My soccer captain once told me that the heart of a true champion is someone who will train till they are sick and give it everything they have even when no one is looking. This mindset is one i don't have. I wish i could be the best but is it really wanting to be the best or a mere desire to have everyone see me as the best? If it is just a mere desire to be seen as the best then i have missed the mark of a true champion.
I have felt the glory of championships. I have kissed state championship trophy's and drank gatorade from the bowl of the national championship cup. i have screamed my head off and cried when my favorite college and pro teams have won the championship game. But never in my life have i wanted something so much and yet it been so elusive. The heart of a champion. It isn't the fact that i haven't wanted a championship but yet i have wanted one for all the wrong reasons. Though this seems like it is not such a big deal in a sense it is. It plays on every emotion that i have. It plays on the very nature of who i am. And that is that i need some one, anyone to see me as the best. It isn't the easiest thing for someone to do. They must fight for it and hold it close when they attain it and in the end remain ever so humble.
It goes to the root of who i am. The desire to be a military officer and look stunning in my uniform and have the bars on my shoulder. But if it is only a desire for my past life to see what the future has made out of the ashes then what are those bars on my shoulder worth. They are just plain golden threads woven into a shape that stands for nothing. Yes, people may respect what it stands for but really what are they good for if they do not mean anything to me. If they stand for nothing to me than what does that say about the core of who i am. It shows that i spent so much time developing someone, an image, just to impress and not to be a guiding light and beacon of hope as a military officer should be. The simple idea of dog tags mean nothing and just show the world that i serve my country. But what do they mean to me? Are they simple pieces of aluminum stamped with my personal information to show who i am and identify my dead and rotting corpse? Or do they serve as weights around my neck to show me the undying responsibility and duty i have to not only this country but to the world.
I am beginning to evaluate all that is important to who i am as a person but as well as who am i to the world. My name does not have to be great. I have no duty to make my families name one of distinction and prominence. I have a duty to my calling first to God and following that calling will make me great and will allow me the distinction that he alone desires.
So i strive for that. I strive for the true heart of a champion. One who never backs down from a fight or a challenge. And in this quest one thing is clear...i will come out stronger than i was before. And that means more to me than one could ever know.

My Town

Its funny how a town never changes. The gossip and redskins predictions still fill the air at the barber shop on a saturday morning. The borders is where all the “intellectuals” go to spend their time. The “cultured country folk” go to star bucks to get their coffee and the rest of us just relax with a cup of joe from McDonalds or 7 Eleven. The best stories are always told at McDonalds in the morning. All the veterans hang out there to talk about the former wars they were in and talk about town politics and advancements and growth in Fauquier that they don't like. The hang out for the high schoolers is still a battle between the parking lots of tractor supply company and wal mart. It just all depends on where the cops are not keeping an eye on that particular night. The college students all gather at molly’s irish pub because McMahons pub just doesn't have that good small family feeling. It is just a shocking fact. Its one of things that always strikes me funny. No matter how far I go or how long im gone this little country community never changes. Even though when i come back it seems different, but the only thing different is me. Passions change, they float away with the wind. They feel as if they are strong and can stand up against any opposing wind or force that stands to break them. then the passion dies and is caught up in a blaze of fire. But the love i have for this town wont die. It cannot die. These country roots is where i was brought up. It is as much a part of me as i am a part of it. A majority of people who were born and raised in this county know exactly the expression that i am talking about. Its this feeling of commitment. This town is alive. Alive not in the sense of a bustling metropolis but more along the lines of this town just beats of life. As you walk along the streets of old town and see the store fronts and the merchandise in the windows you just get taken back to the 1800’s when the town was a major mercantile front for the northern virginia area. I remember as a kid on the county steps on new years eve mayor fitch and the town board had us sing amazing grace as soon as midnight struck. Passing second street you look to your left and cant help but see the old post office and how it has somehow seemingly not changed in such a long time. Late at night while standing on a corner you are pierced with this unseemingly creepy presence of ghosts of the past as they pass around you bustling up and down hurried streets. Commoners, farmers, constables, slaves, and the wealthy alike all hurrying here and there unaware that they are dead and history and the world around them has progressed to a point that it has become unrecognizable. History holds an important part of this town. Born on the backs of slaves and horses alike as they farmed and harvested the tobacco crop to help the rich get richer and poor are left with callused hand and bruised backs but strong spirits. The old jail still sits next to the courthouse on main street as a warning to all that pass through those oversized cast iron doors that mistakes have consequences. In front of that old jail there stands the purchasing block where slaves were bought and sold. This is a southern town. One of the favorite small towns of confederate generals everywhere. When the Union entered virginia and passed through the county it was said by General Grant that this is a town where something special resides in each citizen. This town has its grandeur but also has its black marks on its seemingly beautiful record. Those black marks cast a shadow on this town that we never forget about what has occurred but we also don't talk about it. We just allow it to affect all the decisions that pass through this town.
Though its an area of business it is strictly an agricultural community. Horses are the commodity bought and sold these days. Kentucky derby winners were bred and trained in this town. One triple crown winner has called fauquier county home.
But the amenities of this town are produced by the towns location or the type of soil that the fertile ground produces. No the town is cultured by the people who live, work, and enjoy the life they live in Fauquier county. They are normal people, but unlike any other culture in any other area. They really are quite unique. I have live here my whole life and find myself fortunate to be one of them. We have all types of individuals from cowboy boots to skater shoes all the way to hippies laden with twisted hemp sandals. We have them all. Its a nice mix in this small town. The big problems never really come in this community and if they do we have a unique way of avoiding any contact with them.
Its the type of place only found in Norman Rockwell paintings and stories in the Saturday Evening Post. Where family fireside chats, dinners at the table, and hard work on a farm strangely still exist. Its the future blended in with touch of southern comfort and a small shot of Jack Daniels and tied all together in wrapping paper from Ralph Lauren, that is Fauquier County in a nutshell.
People write off this place so easily. Its not on a major highway nor has a prominent place in the government of Virginia but it does hold a special place in all the hearts and minds of those who call this home. Its my home. It made me who i am today. I tell people all the time. If you truly wish to get to know me just head to my home town. I am the mixture of everything in this county. Sitting here on main street i realize how much i am apart of this town. Stories from high school friends and other acquaintances about me still occasionally come up at the pub and tables at frost diner. Legends just seem to never die plain and simple. Some of the stuff i have done still lingers on as a history lesson to those who have gone on before me to not do stupid stuff like this. Or it has served as a handbook and guide on how to survive this county. This is the place where i know the police officers name and if i don't tell my mom about a ticket, you can bet your britches that officer Yancey is going to tell my mom in church on sunday morning. Its an interesting feeling being a DD and walking into Molly’s and everyone knows your name. Some of these people you haven't seen in years, thats just the way it goes. It never changes and i guess it never will. The beauty is not in the land but in the culture. People make it through time and time again at levels that are just shocking.
But every time my ole cowboy boots hit the ground when i step out of my pickup truck, and that sweet virginia air brushes me on the face and i sip sweet tea made from the shenendoah river it reminds me of how amazing this sleepy little place i call home truly is.

The End but yet the Beginning

The end has never sounded like a pleasant thing. When you think of the end you dont think of happy things. The end sounds of one of sheer terror. But in the reality of it all every end has its beginning. It has a new shining beacon in it embedded deep in its core unseen at first but after a while it becomes aware to its host. The end gives way to the beginning like a portal that gives way to an alternate dimension or a mystical door that opens to a green pasture on a sunny day and shuts the torrential downpour it leaves behind.
The end of a new year can sometimes be a bittersweet feeling, and it can also be a very joyful experience. New Years 2008 was a very sad night. I left behind the year that meant so much to me and had such an amazing impact to my life. Little did i know that 2009 gave way to a horrible year that would stretch me beyond my means. It was a hard year that pushed me to the very limits of stress and stretching that human emotion could possibly allow. I was never so glad to see 2009 fade away as the seconds dawned to midnight and gave way to not only a new year and a new decade but a fresh start. My focus suddenly became tighter and my commitment became clear. It was not the fact that it dawned a new semester but it gave hope to the soul of something bigger. When the midnight countdown began i felt tears well up and as midnight passed i felt as if i passed through that mystical doorway and entered the new decade as if i was a new man. The mistakes i had made in 2009 felt as if they all just dropped off my shoulders.
The mistakes i made were stupid grant it. But yet in 09 i felt as if it was that old elementary school myth about pencils. If you got stabbed by a pencil you would get lead poisoning and it would kill you. Well there was always that crazy story about the kid getting stabbed in the shoulder aka me and i never got lead poisoning because the pencil was made of graphite. But even though i wasn't poisoned it did hurt and i did learn a valuable lesson i will never forget. The same with the mistakes i made in 09 they did not destroy me totally but taught me a valuable lesson through pain and recovery so that the new year and the new decade didn't repeat itself like its last.
Thats the beauty of 2010 and the passing of 2009. Though the former year has passed the lessons learned from it will never fade from memory. The man that i am today and the changes that the last year produced will leave me with the chances of making the new year and decade the most profitable yet.
Its amazing how a few seconds can change the very image of hope that a man has on the outlook of life and his future. I guess with these new changes in place 2010 truly is the year of change that my life is promised.