Me

Don't let the title of this post lead you to the wrong conclusion. I have no intention of producing a narcissistic sentiment about my person, I simply have no other word that would correctly encapsulate all of what this post will do.

I don't remember a time in my life when I wasn't broken. Maybe it is the nature of things, you know, the fact that humans seem to crack all over the surfaces of their souls. I don't know many people who claim "wholeness" when it comes to their cosmetic moral makeup. In fact I don't know any, so maybe it is the cynic inside of me that assumes imperfection of self-assurance as being inevitable. My kind of "broken" is impossible to describe in a blog post, so I suppose only droplets of my story's cup will trickle on to this website.

I remember my childhood well. This might be due to the simple fact that it was the most colorful time in my life. I think it might be that way for most people. The innocence of our eyes, the softness of our love, the gentleness of our intentions. The sheer purpose of our day, filled with nothing but free spirits and hopes of more to join. I remember these days well, but this comes mostly from the fact that the days to follow them would be grey - both in color and clarity.

I tell the same story every time I describe what I went through growing up. The truth is, I don't remember anymore. Maybe the story changed so many times in my mind, somewhere along the line I started to convince myself that everything I believed was true. I know two absolutes: my parents were divorced and, as a result, my life was infinitely altered. To say the origination of my turbulence was the day my father left because of a sincere argument with my mother would be the most accurate statement I could make. Yet, somehow, that is no excuse for the path on which I have chosen to walk. Looking back, I have never known where my footsteps were leading me. I simply, walked.

First day of Middle School. I don't know when my parents officially split - though I claim to know this whenever someone asks - but my most vivid memory of the aftermath was on this day. I remember being very excited about two things: people, and a new locker. Lockers were a commodity back then; I was now able to store things, add my own flavor of decor, and have something that was completely mine. When you lose everything as a child, or rather everything you knew to be true, a simple thing like locker space can prove a useful ally. I had an area to store not only books, but I could store my emotions there. It was my sanctuary, that locker. Number 298, tenth in from the right of the end of the hallway, outside my History teacher's room.

Homeroom. I'm awkward, quiet, unsure of what to expect, and only look either forward or down since any other direction might prove intimidating. The last thing I needed was people. I knew destruction of relationships, not stability. But, as any child does, I developed friendships. I developed one in particular that I have maintained to this day. He is my best friend in the world. Someone who has known me longer than most everyone else. My life was beginning again, somewhat.

Eighth grade. By this point I shifted my persona so many times that I can't clearly remember who I even was. I didn't even know at the time. I knew only one thing by that point, and that was to avoid responsibility because, well, that word just sucks. I was a rebel, but a quiet one. I was the kind of rebel who made life hard on one person: myself. These are the people who sit in a room on St. Patrick's day wearing all red, making fun of all those in green while threatening to end the lives of any who attempt to pinch their skin as a result of their "faulty attire." I was a social menace, making life difficult for everyone around me - including myself. Homework sounded unpleasant, so I thought the neglect of simple work would overcome the consequences. I would learn many times in my life that I was very wrong about that.

High school. Where do I even begin? It's the most meaningful time of my life, those four years. Filled with multiple aspirations, both dying and rising. The replacement of one hope with another made the act of hoping a helpful distraction. It seemed my mind could never quite bend far enough to break, so it kept finding new ways to travel. One day I thought I would be the future creator of the greatest video game of all time. The next I would be Elvis Presley in training, just waiting for that big break I knew was coming. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I decided to be a choir director. Soon after that I was failing three classes, in danger of not graduating, and time had passed by so quickly that I didn't know where it went. I was eighteen with no guidance. I was a fool.

I managed to get into college, by the Grace of God, believe me. The first year there was amazing. I met people, altered my attitude, formed new relationships, was heartbroken, broke a heart, and found a new light in music. I was on top of the world. I didn't want it to end...ever.

It always does.

Sophomore year was when it all began, the problem that led me to writing a blog post at 2:45 a.m. in a room I don't pay to be in. I decided to be a responsible man. I was going to live off campus, pay my own bills like a man should, and I was going to prove to my father that I was damn near capable of doing anything. Never mind my intentions being completely derivative of societal conventions, that didn't matter to me. What mattered most was that I could do it.

After only three months I didn't have enough money to buy gasoline. I was barely eating some days, others I wasn't at all. My roommates knew nothing of it, as I would never relinquish my position of weakness. It was my issue, not theirs.

What would any good hearted, hopeful American do in a time like this you ask? Quite simple: obtain a credit card.

Suddenly I was eating ribs like I had a full time job at a corporate position. I was attending movies, purchasing video games, and boy was I enjoying my time at the arcade on Hall road. I was rolling in the dough. The fake kind, that is. The exact computer on which I type right this second was purchased with a credit card. I was addicted, starved for things. I could never have enough, but soon I reached my limit.

Soon after that, I was in debt over four thousand dollars. Imagine this: a kid playing adult in a house he can't afford, eating ribs, pizza, and savoring the sweet taste of media entertainment with money he had no means of repaying. It scares me to think that others do this too, and with ease. I had no clue what to do, so I did what any sensible person does: I got a loan.

Understand my sarcasm. I paid debt with debt. Literally. I swapped a problem with an issue. I was a fool, a child, an ignorant punk that thought he could yet again buy his way out. I was instead buying time. Unfortunately, time always moves.

So what is the point of this post? I'm getting there, bear with me.

I bought my way out of debt, purchased a new car (brilliant), and put a down payment on an apartment for $1600. I spent $15,000 in the course of a few weeks. Incredible.

But, suddenly, I gained a newfound sense of fiscal responsibility. I budgeted, I planned, I threw out my cards, and most importantly I was happy.

This is the cusp of the climax kids, hang on.

Here I was, exactly one year ago from this very month, in the best spot I can remember myself in. I was in no immediate debt, no trouble, no stress, I was in love and I had it all. But, when you build an empire made entirely out of how great you are, the fall is so much harder. In the course of one week my world fell apart around me. My nephew died, my soon-to-be fiance ended things, the relationship with my roommate was in great turmoil, and I was numb to the core. I decided to deal with it. I decided not to get drunk, not to get high, not to get laid, no I decided none of those things. I decided to buy my way out of sadness.

Four credit cards, three months later and I was back in the hole. Same hole I was in before, only more. To this day I have been trying to crawl out of it, but my hands are numb. I can't even see the surface above it anymore. All I see is my failure, the cause of what I thought were inequities, building and crushing me further into the core of my mistakes. I feel walled in, suffocated.

I have fallen very far. I'm a mess. I'm not okay. I can't tell my father out of fear. I can't tell my friends out of shame. I can't pray to God without feeling like a beggar. I can't go to myself out of doubt. I feel I have no real way out, yet every second I remain inside I grow more weary. It is not escape I wish, but rather I aim for redemption.

In the last thirty six hours the financial hole I'm in has increased by almost two thousand dollars. To alleviate some of this, I went to the computer lab at the school and made some phone calls. I was doing this to make plea deals with places so I could gain some favorable advantage in my situation. Nothing worked.

As I got off my phone for the last time, I heard a voice behind me.

"I'm sorry, but, I couldn't help but hear you talkin," a black woman, seemingly in her early thirties, pierced my eyes with her meaningful gaze, "but are you a christian?"

Unsure of how to speak without breaking down in tears, I painfully muttered, "Yes."

"May we pray?" she reached her hands out to me. I grabbed them and stood, silent and in complete arrest at the powerful nature of the moment.

"Here," she reaches in her pockets and pulls out some paper, a pack of gum, and crumpled up dollar bills.

"Don't,"I muttered through shivering lips and broken eyes, begging her to stop. "You really don't have to do this. I'll be fine."

"Son, God spoke to me today. Read this," as she shuffled through more of her belongings she handed me a piece of paper. I will post the opening, as it made my heart sink when I read it.

For we, as people of God, know that His kingdom is built on grace, on His word. We as people cannot be within the things we carry, but we must live through the things we carry. God's money is not miser's money to spend and cherish, it is meant to be given. It pleases the Lord when his example is put into the circulation of our lives.

That email was sent to her thirty minutes before we met. Twenty minutes later we were at a gas station, filling my gas tank halfway. She didn't give me gas money because she felt good about it, she did it because she believed it was Grace, flowing freely through the circulation of our pockets.

"God loves you. His money will get you home. His money will feed you, as one day He will use you to feed others. God loves you. He loves you. God loves you." She kept saying it as if it were as real as the fabric of my shirt, soaking up my tears.

God is amazing.

I am in a lot of trouble, I can't lie. I need a lot of money and fast. I have no way of obtaining it, nor would I ever ask anyone for it unless I knew I could pay it back. I'm a man of pride, and possibly to a fault. My pride got me in the problem I'm facing right now.

Since the first day of middle school, I have been broken. Once by family, then by ignorance, followed by faulty aspiration, and finally by heartbreak. From a child, to a young man, to the man I am today, I have never quite grasped the pure power of time. I have tried, even blogged about my reverential attitude about it. Yet somehow I still fail. I still do the same stupid things that get me in trouble. I'm technically homeless, barely have a job, and am scared more and more every day.

God is amazing.

I am fine, although all evidence would argue against that. See, I have a new favorite verse I discovered. Before I close and share it, I want to leave you with this: life is too wonderful, too precious to buy. Don't buy happiness, don't spend money because of things, put your money into the circulation of Grace. Lead your faith by the most powerful hand our world knows: currency. If you spend fervently on people rather than what people want, great things will happen. Eight dollars in crumpled up dollar bills and a half-filled gas tank changed my life. It meant the world to me. I will always remember it, and forever change my ways because of it.

For those concerned, just pray. I love you. Doesn't matter who you are, where you are, what you believe or where you want to go. I love you. One day I will look back and laugh. One day.

God is amazing:

1 Peter 5: 6-11

⁶Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. ⁷Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

⁸Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ⁹Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

¹⁰And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. ¹¹To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.