Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 3/7/23 Nik Curfman 3/7/23

Abstract: Stupid Song

A poem, about memory tied to a song.

A song plays, one tied forever to a time and a place,

And I am there, again.

Walking through the oaks and pines, down the dirt path,

sobbing and hurting, hoping and unwilling to let go.

And though I sit in a noisy coffee shop, three years after,

tears form and I turn from the others, to hide my emotion,

forever tied to a song and a heart-breaking moment.

A ghost haunting my heart.

Nik Curfman 9/13/21 Nik Curfman 9/13/21

Vol II: #27 Clint

Today, with tears on my cheeks, I lifted my old friend to the Lord. I don’t know why I thought of him as the music began, but I did. That bastard still means something to me, and I know the Lord loves him. My Father doesn’t care about Clint’s rejection or resentment. He’s got His arms wide open, patiently waiting for his son to come home. The goodness of God is without end.

Memory is an interesting concept. Without it, we’d be lost- literally. Memory is how we learn and grow and remember everything good about our lives. Of course, memory also stores our suffering. (Our ability to move on from these painful recollections helps determine our path in life. Everyone has shitty memories. The immature hide from the lingering pain, while the mature move through it.) What I remember most about life are the moments of wonder- my first time in the Redwood forests or a fantastic meal- and people. Today, while I worshipped with my fellow students, I thought about a few men from the season I spent in Charlotte, men(and women) I loved, and the friendships long-ended.

Clint was a young, charismatic man with a great story of God’s love and deliverance. He was a former drug dealer and addict. The Lord met him in a lonely apartment, and the presence of God was so thick he had to crawl on the ground to get out of his bedroom…or so the story goes. Clint and I bonded over our independence from conventional church teachings. Neither of us was afraid to disagree with church leaders or smoke clove cigarettes. Before my second year of ministry school, we decided to be roommates. That fall, we moved into a large townhouse with three other young idiots, unaware of the trials to come.

Before the Christmas of 2002, a sewer pipe broke and flooded the entire basement of our apartment. It was an apt metaphor for the entire year. Every single man in that apartment was tested that year- in one way or another. Brandon- the budding youth minister- suffered a break due to his “involvement in a cult.” Tim was the cliche “fish out of water” as the only roommate from Hickville, Georgia- we didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand us. He felt isolated and alone most of the year. Our drinking and “sinful” behavior didn’t help. Matt suffers one self-induced romantic failure after another. But, the worst was what happened to Clint and I. (Not to mention- the tragic death of our friend Steve in early November.)

In early 2003, in the midst of feeling like a complete loser, I dropped out of ministry school. I drank heavily and isolated myself from everyone who loved me. Brandon was too busy to notice, and Matt and Tim kept their distance. And Clint was kicked out of ministry school. Supposedly, he made out with a fellow student. She felt guilty and reported it to school leadership, who promptly dismissed Clint. What Clint experienced was typical of that ministry school, and he did not respond well. Despite all the bullshit Clint experienced, he was the one friend who wouldn’t go a day without checking in on me. He’d tell me I was loved and the had good things for me. He was my friend.

As the summer of 2003 arrived, everyone in the townhouse went in a different direction. I re-enrolled in ministry school to finish what I started. And Clint went down the rabbit hole. He never recovered from his dismissal and began to order painkillers from India online. By 2004, this man, who felt the presence of the Lord and was set free from addiction, was back to his old lifestyle. I remember the day he proclaimed he was no longer a Christian, evident by his barren bookshelves. The love of God had become a law to him too burdensome to carry. I get it. Life without the presence and love of the Father is horrible.

Over the following years, Clint became increasingly self-destructive and dishonest. He took advantage of people and was never far from a bottle of whiskey. He was a shadow of the man I met in 2001. The people in his life either served his selfish intentions or were expelled. All this because some ministers treated him like shit. (I don’t excuse the poor leadership or Clint’s terrible choices in the aftermath of his expulsion. Many people from that school experienced the same treatment, and most of us did not self-destruct.)

I think Clint knew the Lord but longed for affirmation and acceptance. This is a common problem among immature believers. And, without foundation in the Holy Spirit, the enemy uses suffering to drive a wedge between the Lord and us. That’s what happened to Clint. Eventually, Clint moved to Los Angeles, where he continued his pattern of self-sabotage. The last I heard from him, he tried to avoid jail time in Texas, claiming to be an addict. It’s true, but some jail time would probably do him good. I had to tell his parole officer to stop harassing me as I would get calls when Clint didn’t check-in.

Lord, touch my friend Clint. Flood his heart and mind with your love and kindness. Show him the eternal wave of grace over his life and destroy all chains on his life.

- Amen.

Nik Curfman 1/22/21 Nik Curfman 1/22/21

Journal: #183 I Remember Me at 27

I enjoyed dinner tonight with two of my newest friends Nathan and Hudson. They are both in their mid-20’s and full of youthful energy. Whenever I’m with them I step into another world. It’s untethered to routine or the drudgery of the men my age. Their futures are full of options.

Me at 27

I remember when I was them. At 27 I worked at a small pizza restaurant in the Cotswold neighborhood of Charlotte. By night, I took night classes at the local community college in an attempt to move forward in life. I didn’t have a plan or know what I wanted. Mental and emotional health were not concepts on my radar. Still, it wasn’t a terrible life.

One of the highlights from that period in my life was the small studio apartment I rented a few blocks from uptown Charlotte. For some reason, I felt more like an adult by proving I could pay my own way in life. It was also a place where I grew in my relationship with the Lord. I experienced a few miracles in that place and learned what fasting was.

MY Return to Clemson

I decided to move out when it seemed necessary to get serious about finishing my bachelors degree. Clemson University, the first college I attended, beckoned me to return. I was eager to do so. After years of drifting, waiting tables, and second rate schools, I was going to move into my destiny. I saw Clemson as the door to my future.

In the run up to what was suppose to be a triumphant return to Clemson, I was given loads of encouragement from my prophetic community. I had to clear a few hurdles to enroll in classes, and the final piece I need was tuition money.

Not To Be

In faith I packed up my belongings, waved goodbye to my friends in Charlotte, and moved to Clemson. It was suppose to be an epic story of God’s provision and blessing. The money never came. Even with financial aid and student loans, I was woefully short. I reached out to my brother for help, but he didn’t think it was a good idea.

It was not to be.

Shocked and disappointed, I re-packed my car and drove back toward Highway 76. I knew this was my last attempt to attend Clemson. After months of planning and hoping, I was headed out the same way I came in just a few hours prior, and my dream was dead.

Pain Hurts

I asked a lot of questions in the aftermath. Did I miss God? Why do some people receive blessings and I don’t? What’s wrong with me? Despite all that, I couldn’t curse God. I knew that wasn’t the way to make sense of it.

My failed attempt to finish my college education at Clemson was 14 years ago. Until the last 18 months, I didn’t have any answers why I failed, why the Lord didn’t meet me in my hour of need. I do now.

Pain Is not The End

To start, I didn’t miss God. I gave Him a place to move on my behalf, and He did. It just wasn’t to Clemson. Second, I do receive blessings. I was given my old job back and life went on. A year later I began work with a non-profit in West Virginia, which turned out to be a blast. Lastly, nothing was wrong with me. The Lord had a plan, but I couldn’t see it.

Who knows what my life would’ve been had I graduated from Clemson. It’s hard to predict. What I can firmly testify to is the Holy Spirit had my back the entire time. Then as now, my heart was with Jesus. Ultimately, I want His will for my life. As frustrating as that moment was, I’m glad the Lord guided me to where I am today.

What Faith Is

“Failures” like the Clemson debacle and my breakup last year taught me what faith is. Faith is a trust. On occasion, that trust plays out the way I want it to, and sometimes it doesn’t. It’s not about the outcomes of a moment. Faith is trust the Lord has my back. In the hard moments, it’s the conviction the Holy Spirit has something better on the other side of gut-wrenching pain and sorrow.

Because, He does. That’s why I’m not bitter or upset my degree isn’t from Clemson. I can look back on my mid-20 with gratitude for that time and the journey since.

God is good.

Your will Lord be done in my life. Thank you for protecting my heart of deep resentments and moving through the deep valley’s of confusion. You don’t want us to suffer, but we will. It’s ok. I am loved and wonderfully made. I trust you.

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Nik Curfman 12/18/20 Nik Curfman 12/18/20

Journal: #151 Christmas Memories

All I ever want to enjoy the people I’m with. I don’t care what we do (mostly.) I can barely remember any present I’ve been given. I need time to think about them, but the memories of family are more precious to be than the gifts.

Thirty years ago, Christmas meant two off from school, gift shopping with my siblings, and end-of-the-year-the-diet-starts-tomorrow food. My sister and I listened to Christmas records and put puzzles together. We’d watch all the classic movies- A Christmas Story, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, and A Christmas Carol. My mom would spend a day or two in the kitchen producing an endless supply of cookies and other treats. I loved it.

Ordinary Beauty

Usually at some point in during the holiday, someone would get upset about something “not being right” over something none of us really cared about. Once, while trying to decorate the house and make dinner, frustration got the best of my mother. Through clenched teeth she exclaimed,”I’ve been all over hell, and I can’t find any damn Christmas lights!” Then there was my sister’s proclivity to decorate and redecorate the tree.

Aside from the these lesser moments, are the little stories that made those ordinary days memorable. There’s the time my brother and I bought the Christmas tree without a way to get it home. We used rope, bungee cords, and my right hand to secure it to the roof of our small Toyota. We both laughed as I narrated the journey home, my hand numb by the end.

One of my favorites is when we decided to put the tree in the car, trunk first. I’m not what my logic was, but it had to look silly to everyone we passed on the way home. What made this story my favorite is the fact we decided to stop at Rush’s for milkshakes. Who could’ve predicted our car would brake down just outside the drive-thru window? I hope the tale of two teenage idiots and their Christmas tree is still part of the Two Notch Road lore.

Family Tradition

A question I was asked this week was “what did you family traditions did you have growing up?” I had to think about my answer because we didn’t have a set tradition like going to grandma’s house or carving a roast goose. If I had to make a list it would include:

Mom’s cookie bonanza.
Buying each other the same gift- seriously. We do this.
Watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation on Christmas Eve.
Opening one small present on Christmas Eve.
Ham for dinner.
Cream cheese pinwheels... They’re so easy to make it’s stupid: smear one flour tortilla with cream cheese, sprinkle evenly with chopped black olives and green chiles. Roll up and cut into half inch “wheels.” It ain’t Christmas without them.
Dad buying everyone a calendar.
Trying to enjoy Christmas and each other.

What I Love

That last tradition is my favorite and most worth while. All I ever want to enjoy the people I’m with. I don’t care what we do (mostly.) I can barely remember any present I’ve been given. I need time to think about them, but the memories of family are more precious to be than the gifts.

(It’s why I prefer to like Thanksgiving more than Christmas. Embedded in Christmas is expectation and a need to “show you care.” Thanksgiving lacks all that bullshit. Just sit down and eat, crack jokes, and enjoy the day. If you know me, you know we can’t be friends if we can’t eat and act like fools together.)

Gratitude Wins

As I sit here as a single as ever, in a cold empty apartment, I’m content to swim in the memories. It feels good. I’m not mad at the present or bemoaning the future. I’m blessed to have those goodies tucked away in my brain, and I’m looking forward to the day I can make more memories with a family of my own.

My endeavor to be grateful in all areas of life, at all times, is paying dividends in ways I couldn’t fathom. It’s a gift from the Lord. A year ago I was falling love, and today I’m not. And, unlike any other time in my life, I’m not bitter or angry or deep down a pit of depression about it. My life isn’t a series of f*ck-ups and failures. I’ve been blessed, and the best is yet to come.

Holy Spirit. You rock. Thank you for my life, my crazy, rollercoaster life. Thank for you parents and my friends. Thank you for my brother and sister, their spouses, and my nephews. Thank you for Emma. Thank you for all the embarrassment, disappointment, and shame. Thank you for joy and life eternal.

Thank your for old used cars and poor life choices. Thank you for chocolate and cream cheese pinwheels.

Thank you for coming to this Earth to be with us, to live as one of us, and die like us. Thank you for never leaving or forsaking us.

Lord, thank you for showing me a better way to live. Thank you for making my life worth living. More Lord.

Amen.