the Dark Knight

The reason I share this now is not for shock or anything other than to point toward Hope and what God is doing in my life...This is a piece of my story....

It started one afternoon as evening was approaching.  I was eight years old.  My Dad was angry at me...I knew I was going to "get the belt."

I could hear his heavy footsteps approaching..directly coming for me up three flights of stairs.  There was no mistaking his approach.  It was time.

I pleaded but it fell onto deaf ears.  The standard approach was to drop your pants and shorts and bend over the bed with hands in front of you.  This is very unnatural and offers no defense...no matter how much of a rule follower you might be, this is difficult to keep this position while someone whips you with a belt repeatedly.

I started flopping around, writhing in pain ...screaming, crying, yelling...my face hit part of the bed frame.  That would cause a "shiner."

My Dad stopped and took me into his bathroom to clean it up.  Somehow in those next few minutes instead of being cleaned up I had my head slammed into his sink.  Now I had two black eyes and a swollen bloody face.  My body bore the whip marks of the spanking as well.

The final step of this humiliation was to be taken downstairs into the living room...the screen door was propped open...my Dad has something under his arm...he showed it to me, unzipped a suitcase...He proceeded to throw it out the front door and halfway across the front yard.

"Now you can leave this home with what you came into this world with." I was smacked with a cruel reality I had no answers for.

Obviously I had come into the world as everyone else...with nothing.

I made a few decisions in that moment...standing naked on the front porch...hoping nobody saw me in that moment.

I decided:
If these people are going to beat me up...I need protection...
I will buy my own clothes somehow so that I will have something to take with me if this happens again...
I will stash away food for the times being sent to bed hungry as I cried out...but nobody answered...


Enter...my reaction...

My heart disconnected from them that day.  Emotionally I left home that day.....

In my heart I only would give the look...what is the look?  The serious, no smiles, no joy...serious look of someone who is emotionally disconnected and only will give "steely" glances of ice.

It did serve to protect what was left of my shattered heart.  In some ways it saved what was left of me.  When someone young goes through something that is irrational and makes no sense...they either find a way that works for them or they don't survive. This is a fact.

I remember heading out to school and being questioned about what had happened to me.  I simply told the truth..."my Dad did this...it was punishment for what I did--I deserved it."  There's honest truth...the school wanted my parents investigated.  After they had been questioned I was yelled at for what I said because "if they take away your brothers and sisters it will be on you."  I didn't understand...I had spoken the truth in an innocent honest way.

I pulled the darkness closer...slipped the mask on a little longer this time...feeling the protection..focus..purpose...protection that that it offered...not realizing what I was giving up in the transaction.

The defining events from the next few years pushed me further towards the darkness and the protection and answers it offered.  The teasing...any other issues in relationships quickly became a part of the narrative I was creating. I worked far too many hours for a kid in school...but I was determined to have money for fear of the flying suitcase - Act II.

For those looking at me from the outside it was a curious thing.  Some guys would want to pick a fight simply because they thought I was trying to act tough.  Act tough???  I was surviving...simply surviving.  The fights that were picked ....the teasing, constant attacking or ganging up on me from other guys from their own insecurities just further pushed me into the shadows.

Pretty soon..by 15...this is who I wanted to be....... Who I truly was--was never a thought... there were enough people that liked some things about this character...and some that hated him....and he wasn't going to be hurt by either camp.

The disconnected darkness gave me a freedom to speak up.  It wasn't all bad.  It made me courageous enough to speak up for what was injustice...no fair...bullying of others would not fly near my radius of darkness....

For those that I offered protection and friendship...some even saw glimpses of the real me underneath and were true friends.

For others they used my darkness for what they could get from me...others still doing acts that could only further push me out to the shadows.

By the time I reached college I barely was a trace of who God had created me to be.  I carried these wounds all my life.  I've tried to lay these things down these past few years.

If it weren't for my son, I probably would have continued "as is" to the grave.  The deep need to give him more than who I had been to that point...spurred me out of my comfort zone and out of the darkness to stand back and look at the wounding...who I have become...and who I truly am.

It's truly impossible to convey the entire story and the commitments we make as we grow to survive in the story we are given.

I am giving up the protection of this persona that has protected me for so long. It doesn't mean I don't visit him from time to time when stress or pressures become overwhelming.  It does mean I am aware of who he is and what happened...I am conscious of all of it.  With that in mind...that is not all of who I am or what my legacy is.

I buried the dark knight...
It doesn't mean I won't mess up things in my own life...after all, he was here for a very long time-and in his defense--he did protect me.

I do like things about him...
His sense of right and wrong...justice,  his lack of fear...sense of courage, his battling against all odds.

Perhaps some of the things that I admire I will find to be true of myself as well.

I do know that even the Dark Knight spends much of his time as Bruce Wayne...a philanthropic, generous man who shares his resources with many in need.  There is much to be said of living in that side of this equation. He also lives in the light of day.

I can't say that I will never put the mask on again ever...I can only say I will never take on the darkness intentionally. I will never make an agreement like I did so many years ago.

sometimes we get something totally different than what we came for

My most recent trip to Gatlinburg for fire salvage and relief wasn't quite what I pictured.  What do I mean?  Well, I always observe so much during any kind of trip like this and it teaches me things long after the trip is over.  This time was no exception--I observed and learned a great deal.

As we all scrambled into the tent to watch a film with Samaritans's Purse staff and the other volunteers it was clear to me--"everybody else knows what to do--they are clear in their purpose and direction...what am I doing here?"

There is a pecking order with men long after high school...depending upon the backdrop and event determines the pecking order.  In this case, most of the men had hunting or thermal overalls on and insulated working boots..special gloves, the right manly tools for this type of work or a pick-up truck that concealed all of the necessary special tools amongst the rolling contents.

This was me, my son Grant and his friend--let's call him Henry. We had none of those things...just willing hearts.

We didn't quite fit the bill so we found ourselves at the far end of the pecking order with sneakers, regular gloves, sweatpants or jeans--no special thermal clothing to justify our being there.

We didn't have any special tools with us to assist either...as I looked around and sized up what was going on...I felt very incapable, when all I wanted to do was simply help people.

Henry was particularly cold and freezing...shivering visibly and we all know we can't shiver or shake or show we are cold in front of the other "real" men. Since he's young Henry must not have known the "real" men rules..do not look them in the eye unless you have the right clothing and tools and can exchange true manly stories of other times you have helped in similar situations.

In Henry's defense his father has never had time for him and his mother has pushed him to excel in schoolwork towards his degree...never able to really get attention for himself without producing academically...and even then it can be short lived attention.

What happened?

Those men began to give Henry attention.  One of them gave him some gloves..another some tools, another some water...still another started sharing his work stories with him.  He has mentored and shown what it looked like to be included in the "company of men."  They kept him in their group and talked to him through situations throughout the day.  They had him sifting through ashes recovering melted silver dollars and gems.  He became a part of this story...one of the heroes that this family will never forget.  He became a man that day because other men showed him how to be a man--and they put their stamp of approval on him--they bestowed it upon him.

By lunchtime he was sharing stories and someone had shared their lunch with him (real men apparently pack extra lunches for these events as well in case those of us just show up not knowing all of the rules of preparation).  By the end of the day it was tough to pull Henry away from his new pack of coworkers. He was not shivering..he was full of joy and youthful exuberance...he was re energized by the work and interaction.

Of course it would be difficult to leave--everyone wants acceptance...Henry found acceptance in being mentored by all of the men of that group.  The family he was helping knew him by name and were sharing their fire story with him directly.

The day before this Henry didn't even know he was going to do this.  He honestly believed he would do this to add something to his resume to please others...or recruiters, his parents...what he discovered was when real men--mentor other young men...the world becomes a better place for all.

Seeds of Hope

 It was 17 degrees out and my toes were numb.  I was watching the sun peek over the horizon and the rays begin to bring the slightest warmth to frozen ash and blackened trees.  There was still some smoke arising in different places towards the sky.

What makes 9 out of 10 houses burn down to the foundation while another stands tall and unscathed?What makes a life survive where others are taken away?

I was serving in Gatlinburg Saturday with Grant and one of his friends to help in the fire recovery for families.  Serving on the front line is something that is an adventure and also a way to give support to those who need it.  It's a way to bring Hope to those who need it most.  Hope has many origins...it can be as simple as a smile and listening to a survival story....it can be as simple as shoveling the ash and removing everything out of the home for those in need by just serving.

I've been to the front line for hurricane relief and flood relief...never to fire relief work.

 What starts the same is upon arrival to the site the work looks daunting and larger than what can be attainable.

It's not really about the work though...that always gets accomplished...

It's about a place for the owner to share their story...telling our stories validates who we are and the scars we have endured. It also help us begin to heal.

Debbie started sharing and while I didn't want to crowd her with so many pressing in to listen...but I wanted to hear her story--to honor what she had endured and valiantly survived.  The fire was closing in all around her home.  She stated that only two homes on her road were occupied that week--an older neighbor across the street and herself.  She was scared...She felt she was running out of time so she got in the car and the power garage door wouldn't open...so she threw it in reverse and smashed through the door--quite brilliantly.

There was burning debris all around especially pieces of metal roofing coming off and wrapping around trees or hitting the road.  Power lines were down all around...The roads on that mountain are narrow and windy...she was driving too quickly in her haste swerved and rolled the car down an embankment and onto its roof.

She managed to regain her composure, pulled herself out of the car window and ran back a block to the neighbor's home looking for help or a way to get down the mountain.  The neighbor was gone.  She was out in the dead end culdesac looking for help.  She dialed 911--guess what?  She was told they had no way to get to her at this point. They told her she was on her own.

She said she threw water from her water bottle on herself and scooped up her cat and she stretched her arms out and around the animal to provide protection.  She watched the house explode in the intense heat.  Somehow--miraculously the fire moved on and she survived with minimal burns.  It's amazing she is alive today and she is grateful. As she stated "I'm nobody special...I didn't do anything to deserve this."

It's an interesting conclusion to her story.  The stories we tell state a lot about who we are and who we think we are.

Later in the day I was talking with her mother Betty.  I stated I was sorry for her loss (the home) and without batting an eye --looked straight squarely into my eyes and with a big grin stated "we have everything that matters--our daughter is with us."

Somehow a rescue mission had given them $100.00 as part of the rescue and housing them in the shelter.  Do you know what they did with that money?  They wanted to take the rescue team out for dinner for all of the work and kindness show to them. Here were people that had lost so much financially and yet they were giving....

Scooping out ash 3' deep down to the foundation and pulling out all of the metal and spikes, nails...it was work but it was a good work--the kind that leaves me with a tiredness that something good happened there that neither side will soon forget.

I was looking at the outline of a wobbly chimney and a foundation and some cinder blocks...a complete loss....but Betty had it right...they had their daughter alive and life is precious...there was no price for that recovery..it was priceless.

The images are burned into my mind forever...out of respect for these families and the lives lost in other stories connected to these fires--I will not post pictures or cheapen the horror they went through.

I disagree with Debbie's analysis at the end of her story though.  That she survived is amazing and now that she has--she is destined and now challenged to write the next chapter of her own story--and to make it originate out of that place where she is...grateful and thankful.

Hope planted some new seeds today...who is to say what will grow from that?!

untended gardens

What do I mean--untended gardens? That's a strange title....

Yes it is....

I was out cleaning up the yard and fixing things up today when I noticed something peculiar. I had pulled out all of the tomato plants and cucumber plants in September....In fact I pulled out everything and started cutting up firewood and stacking it all where the garden once stood, getting ready for more campfires in the backyard.

I value the stone fire ring that Grant and I built together.  It represents a dream fulfilled for me --and magical things always happen around the campfire--whether it be thoughts, dreams or deep conversations, there is no denying the magic that occurs there...and so I was stocking up preparing for more of those good things.

As I was cutting up a few more limbs for the stock of firewood I noticed we now had four firewood stacks of wood outlining the entire space of the garden except the very middle of the square.

Inside that square was a pepper plant that was on it's side and practically uprooted.  It now had 6 green peppers on it ready to harvest bright green and glistening in the sun.  There was second plant buried under the weight of the the first plant also on its side and it had another 3 baby peppers.  The garden was yielding what I had not tended...what I was not weeding or supporting...was not watering or guiding to grow up straight and tall.

As I turned in wonder at what I was gaining in my harvest for the day--I realized other plants were growing up through stacks of firewood as well.  At last count I had one flowering cucumber plant, 5 tomato plants and a cantaloupe vine reaching out--pushing up though a mess of wood covering it almost completely....yet it had found life...and a chance to push through the mess to reach up to the light...up towards the sky.

As I think back on my hard work and efforts to weed and grow a garden this spring and summer...I harvested much from that hard work.  Now I am harvesting what I haven't tended, haven't toiled for...yet it is mine...mine to enjoy and to smile upwards and outwards.

I love the lessons I learn from the seasons and the garden this year.

Adam had two jobs in his life....To name things in his world as a man...and to tend to the garden.  Sometimes I can hear the question "how am I tending the garden?" and know with confidence I am on target and changing the world...

Lately I have felt more that I am off the mark from my intentions...and not tending the garden very well.

Today again reminds me of the tidal wave of grace I am receiving in many ways--and the presents that grace yields.  Although I want and strive to be intentional about all things in life...I fall short of the mark in many ways.  Sometimes we are blessed with a harvest we never planted nor tended to intentionally.

And the reminder in this for me today?

It's not all up to me...

I need this reminder frequently--so I can have grace and forgiveness for myself...and forgiveness and grace for others.

It's not all up to me...

I just need to do my part.  The part that's in front of me...not everything...not save the world...just this part now...even if that part is harvesting untended gardens.

the swingset

 For my youngest daughter Kelly Hope it was a safe haven and a place she could always be found.  Through the emotional ups and downs of her teenage years--if she wasn't in the house she could be found swinging in the backyard under the big sycamore tree singing to herself and listening to her music.

As I was cutting the lawn the last two weeks I came to the realization of a sad fact...

The space underneath the swing was no longer as bald of a patch of dirt--grass and weeds were beginning to grow there and I had never seen those sights before.  It occurred to me that she was no longer gliding on the wind and singing to herself in her own safe place in the world...a place where she was the singing star--honing her talent singing to an audience of crickets, lightning bugs, rays of sunshine and an occasional fox or squirrel.

You see...everything eventually changes and we are left with the reality of the present.  Some changes and some new realities are welcomed...many times we are left longing for the past.

I stopped mowing the lawn to reminisce of the many, many years she would ride the swing without a care...the time of drama where she was burdened by acceptance and finding her place amongst groups at school...thought about her belting out a song's lyrics with precision and melodic passion.

The swingset had been there for all of it...a witness to the passing of time and coming of age. An audience member for the songs of years of melodies...

I am writing this now thinking about what my "swingset" in life growing up would be?  What and where was my place of creativity, safety and dreaming?

Was it the sun drenched summer days of endless fishing adventures in the Tohickon creek? Endless hours of shooting hoops in the driveway dreaming of playing playoff games against imaginary foes?  Playing softball and running like the wind with speed and reckless abandon?  Playing trumpet softly and sweetly to a self composed tune in my basement with the greatest of passion?

We all have had places--someplace that was that place of safety and dreaming...every now and then as we grow older there comes something of a ghost calling to us from the present age...something that reminds us --hey--it's ok to still dream...it could a trip to the beach and hearing the rolling ocean waves...the beauty of a walk in the wooded park...sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking majestic views....whatever it is...go there...go there and dream again and remember you were created for more than working long hours and solving problems at work....we need to unplug in the right ways to recharge and center ourselves...with our families...our challenges in life..and with our God.

We were created to unplug and sometimes to again find our "swingset" --and love and dream.  It actually makes us better able to re-engage the world and the challenges facing us each day. Ecclesiastes 3---a time for everything.

"even if he doesn't..."

"Mr. Taylor--your daughter is in the hands of God now..."

Of course she is in the hands of God I thought..."He has her--there is nothing more for you to do..."
I loved this doctor--he was so kind throughout...and observant.  My daughter was in a coma...not a calm one mind you...there is much more to this story than what I can pen to a blog today...it is a full chapter in our lives.

This doctor meant well...he really did.  You see--more than 80% of patients that arrive at the ICU--do not leave alive--or have even a remote chance for a happy ending. That's not a statistic I researched on the Internet --it is from talking with the nurses in the ICU throughout long stretches of time during sleepless nights.

I thought--I am really having this conversation..."we have to begin thinking shortly about whether to continue life support or not..."  Wow--we really ARE having this conversation now.

Up until now I had believed in a miracle but with each day that my daughter fought restraints and broke restraints with her strength--yet remained unconscious through test after test--and MRI's, and many more tests I don't recall the exact technical terms for..checking her brain activity and possible bleeding on the brain....my hope was fading...now I had taken a full frontal cannon fire to the remnant of hope that remained in my heart.

As I flipped through my bible that sleepless night I came across a story that peaked my interest.  I was looking for a crumb of hope to cling to like a life preserver. It was Daniel Chapter 3--I stumbled across.  Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego...they refused to bow down to the king's gold statue and so they were to be bound and thrown into a blazing furnace.

"If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power. But--even if he doesn't..." 

What-?! --don't say THAT...
And so there it was--even if he doesn't... So many begging prayers from others hurting...
For the family begging that Alzheimer's would be banished and their family member healed...
For the family that has a member stricken with mental illness--praying for peace and healing...
For the family where autism distorts the day and keeps a child from seeing and filtering actual truth and relaxing in who they are...
For the family begging that depression loosen its grip on a loved one...
For the family battling cancer for one of their loved ones--and begging God for a miracle...
For the family begging for the health of a child...

So many prayers...
All people desiring the miraculous in the middle of the mundane and even cruel world that has all but stopped as everything slows when the most important things raise themselves up in front of us---the fragility of life.

I began to wonder in my heart that if God didn't heal her--would I still speak of his greatness--his power--even his plans for my life?

Where else is there to turn...I could ache and hurt in my heart--even be angry if this went badly--but I did not blame God...I only wanted to understand why a healing could not or should not happen?  I called a few of my closest friends and asked the question "what purpose could God have for this other than to miraculously heal her--and her life be used in a way--as a purpose--to point back to the healer of the broken?!

The next day I was not myself...I was lost--without hope.  The past 6 years I had built my life on the rock foundation that I had a hope--and for the first time in all of this--even all 11 days of her being in a coma I found myself looking at reality and soaking in "even if he doesn't..."  I went through work--had short conversations with others--some not even knowing what was going on--they flashed strange looks and had no idea of the weight on my shoulders as the family leader, the one who sets the trajectory for the rest of the family...

Saturday we celebrated our other daughter's sweet 16 by leaving the hospital--all of us--and traveling into Nashville and eating out at a restaurant and even taking a horse and carriage ride downtown.  The guilt I felt knowing my other daughter was lying in a coma alone--while I also needed to be happy for my other daughter--this would always be in her mind--I couldn't lose her by scarring her memories to be treasured for the future...

As I rushed back from dinner alone as it was my turn to be on duty overnight (we were taking turns) it was right back into the fire--but the break had eased a little of the effects of the sleepless nights.  My daughter was anything but at peace as every 10 to 15 minutes would bring spasms similar to a seizure although we were told they were not seizures.

At about 430 AM I went home to get showered and back before morning rounds,  Because it was Sunday morning we would be coming back together.  I left the room...it was a retreat from the shambles of a torn apart bed and broken daughter's body fighting everything -fighting peace.

While showering I was playing some soaking praise music to try to soak in some new hope for the day that lay ahead of us.

When we arrived back at the room--it was as if I had come to the wrong room.  This girl in the room was at peace. She was calm and sleeping beautifully.  The nurse (a hero to us for everything she did) had her hair showered and clean--all combed out.  She even put her own hair band to make a pony tail. I felt the peace at that moment...

I prayed as I sat on the couch next to her...and as I prayed I heard the words "great joy."
Michelle--I'm telling you this so that someone believes me if it is to come true--I heard the words "great joy." I thought in my head--did I really hear this or did I place those words in my own mind?  Do we ever really know?  I hoped it would be true.

A little hope can do a lot... bring energy, patience, the paradigm shifts and even the sun shining becomes a little brighter.

The doctor came in for her rounds.  We want to try to excavate the breathing tube she said.  They all tried valiantly but my daughters body just would not cooperate...
The nurse had an idea...her body is fighting the total removal-but if we can get her vitals, breathing and pressure lower we might have a better chance.

All day long-each hour that nurse dialed back the pressure...she worked on her all day long--and my daughter stayed calm and slept still...that peace gave me some peace.  At about 1:30 we asked what she thought..."I think in two hours when they make last rounds that we have a chance to be ready" she said.

In the back of my mind--I also knew that that was only the first step and we would need her to open her eyes and follow a few voice commands or there would be no further attempts to remove the breathing and feeding tubes.

As the late afternoon shadows creeped onto the windows of the room--I clung to my growing hope that something was different about today...even the words I had received--which were different from the usual day so far...something was just different...and different at this point was welcome.

As the doctor entered the room our nurse had dialed back the last click to where all of the machines and readings needed to be.

The doctor tried to awaken her to get her eyes open and to obey a command. "Haileigh.....I want you to wake up--open your eyes...open your eyes and look at me."  No response.  She tried 3x...no response.  The long line of students that accompanied the doctor began an unceremonious procession out of our room.

"Wait" I found myself saying.  "I am the only voice she responded to and that was 8 days ago--but she did listen to me...please let me try."

Not waiting for the agreement I started..."Haileigh....squeeze my hand" now I had been holding her hand through spasm after spasm...I know what a clenched fist is versus squeezing just one side.  I felt the squeeze and everyone saw it...but they dismissed it quickly.  I said "Haileigh...now squeeze this hand and gave her other side a squeeze..come one squeeze this side."  Suddenly I felt the other side squeeze back.  The procession stopped dead--the line reversed direction...something was happening and we all knew it.

"Haileigh--now I need a thumbs up--come on --a thumbs up"....a
her right hand raised about an inch or two and a trembling thumb began a slow, shaking turning upwards."  The doctor and students let out a simultaneous ROAR of joy.

Last thing Haileigh--I need you to open your eyes.  Now this girl had more flashlights checking her eyes the past twelve days and none of it looked good--eyes unable to focus, darting back and forth, completely dilated...but now...one eye began to open small at first--the most beautiful blue eyes looking back at me.

Once that happened the doctor and staff jumped in and pulled those tubes out...they worked diligently to get her breathing on her own.  So much to the story--so many interactions that I couldn't share in a small blog.

Suddenly there was "GREAT JOY" as promised--it was delivered.

From the joy of that moment--I have travelled to a place of guilt as I realized my desperate prayers were answered and I never had to answer the full realization of "even if he doesn't..."

From Anne Voskamp's blog I read a few sentences that resonate within my soul--and complete what I need to say..."no one enters into the real joy of the Lord in spite of the hard times---but squarely through the door of the hard times."

paraphrased: And so even if the next time it doesn't go my way---and what I beg for doesn't happen....I am still His beloved son...

Even if He doesn't--He still is ...
His will is right and His heart is still good...

Even if He doesn't--He does give enough--himself...

Even if He doesn't --He does still love us...
Even if He doesn't I will still believe--there is no where else to go and take these prayers.

And so the things that we fear the most produce the deepest faith within us and change us forever.

It might have looked different.

It was supposed to, it could have, and it may next time---
yet even if he doesn't....

dodging Joy

                                               
   From my own junior high and high school experience...I remember playing the infamous game of dodge ball.  I was really good at staying in the back and ducking, jumping and using fast reflexes to avoid the bigger kids throws.  After getting to be the last player a couple games in a row I remember how a disgusted player from my own team told me I wasn't a real player.  Well I was a real player--but not 100% "all in" might be a better description.

--Although dodge ball isn't my life--I draw a parallel to how I played it....

I have discovered a truth about how I live and how I engage JOY.  I have watched many other people and I have noticed some similarities in talking with others about how they handle "the good times" or periods of joy in their lives.

Almost every time without fail I don't live out--feeling the full 100% of Joy that's been given and is standing face to face with me.

At first when I realized this I thought about how and why--and what's this about? I think I handle it like dodge ball, jumping away from the full effects, ducking, and shielding it away with other balls to stay alive in the game of life--never taking that head on shot.

Well it's been going on for a while and here's the deal...I believe that if I don't fully go all in with the joy--then somehow the difficult times when they come again (--and they come again for all of us) I will also not get both barrels of that blast straight on--avoid a direct head on shot. Somehow I will get a diminished or reduced life changing event.

"It's a deal with the devil" as Brene Brown writes in her book "Rising Strong"--"and the devil never pays...when we deny our stories and disengage from the emotion--it means choosing to live our lives in the dark. "

 The imagery of darkness is something I know all too well...Sometimes I feel like Bane in the movie--The Dark Knight Rises--comparing my level of darkness by quoting "you merely befriended the darkness---....I was born in it."

However--When we decide to own our own stories and live our truth, we bring light to the darkness.

That doesn't mean it's easy street--even long after naming it aloud--but it does mean we get to live transparent warts and all.  It does mean putting myself out there--and fully living in the joy of the moment...with no waiting for the other shoe to drop mentality...just living in the now--breathing and taking it all in.  Whatever this holiday season brings and moving forward I want to be courageous enough to really live "all in."

I don't want to dodge real joy a minute longer when it presents itself...I want to take in every ounce as a gift knowing it is a great gift that can't protect me from future pain--it's just today's gift.

When I think about living this way, I think about Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting---a young man with an extended smart answer for everything except not being able to commit "all in" with his emotions...

In the final scene Ben Afleck shows up to pick up his friend for work---but he's not there....he is embracing joy in all of it's uncertainty for tomorrow as he drives across the country to chase after a woman he loves..."ALL IN"