Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 2/23/21 Nik Curfman 2/23/21

Journal: #213 I’m Going To Win

Victory, the kind with parades and praise, is not normal. Today it looked like going on a walk, doing my work, loving my parents, and writing this blog. It’ll end with prayers and gratitude. Whatever tomorrow brings, I know what I’m going to do.

I’m going to win.

Without going into detail, my mind is stuck on a few thoughts I’d rather not think. They aren’t bad or evil, just unproductive. I want to let go and move on. In many ways I have. And, instead of mire in the frustration, I will thank God. Again.

It’s moments like right now I’m grateful I made a commitment to be faithful to Jesus. I thankful I decided to take care of myself. Years ago I would’ve judged myself and sunk into pools of self-pity.

This moment doesn’t own me. It doesn’t define me. It’s just life.

Progress can look like a job promotion or a pat on the back. It can look like a smaller waste and goals achieved. For me, right now, it’s giving myself grace to be imperfect. My brain does thoughts I wish it didn’t. My heart wants things I can’t have. This is what my humanity looks like.

Disappointment is not an excuse to be an asshole or self-destruct. I’d rather be honest and write a blog. I’d rather pray and make room for God to be God, for Him to touch my heart in a way only the Lord can.

I’m going to win.

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Nik Curfman 2/22/21 Nik Curfman 2/22/21

Abstract: Easy Life

I wish I could massage my brain with my fingers,

Rub all the worry and impatience away,

Smooth out my doubts.

I wish I could sip on certainty,

Breath conviction,

And eat victory.

I wish I could massage my brain with my fingers,

Rub all the worry and impatience away,

Smooth out my doubts.

I wish I could sip on certainty,

Breath conviction,

And eat victory.

Though, I’m sure some say it’s possible,

None of it is.

Maybe one day,

Years from now,

I’ll realize I’m a doubtless champion,

Unwavering and wise.

In the interlude,

I will punch through the sorrow and shame,

The impatience and fear.

I will use my words and choices,

My whispered declarations,

And my key strokes,

To carve my way from regret to graced,

To freedom.

(I have found no greater words than these:

I’m here Lord. I give you my life, and I trust you.

Your will be done in me and through me. I accept you peace, love, and joy.

I lay down my hopes, fears, and anger. Thank you for loving me.)

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Nik Curfman 2/22/21 Nik Curfman 2/22/21

Journal: #212 Happy Monday

I amazed at how easy I slip into the future, forgoing the joy of the day. Everything I want is on the other side of tomorrow. And, not one bit of it is going to arrive ahead of schedule. What I am experiencing is a form of self-pity, because I’ve got a really good life.

Today was one of those disorienting days where I feel simultaneously lost and directionless. I knows it’s not true. I know it’s just a day, and tomorrow will come. The sun will rise and I will move forward.

So, for the rest of this post, I’m going to give specific thanks for all the blessings and awesomeness in my life:

My parents are amazing people. They are old, and as my mother recently noted “have funky ways.” But, they are accommodating and generous. They are my biggest fans. They rejoice in my success and cry with me when life sucks. I wouldn’t be me without them.
My friends are the finest people on the planet. Today on Instagram a well-known ministered made a series of posts about friendships, and what the quality of our friendships say about us. I laughed, because I’m rich. So rich. My friend are the get in the foxhole and fight for you kind of people. They have walked with me through addictions and poor choices, emergency room visits and a multitude of address changes.
The Lord absolutely loves me. If God were some sonofabitch god, I’d be dead for my sins and flaws. I’m thankful to say that’s not Him. He cheers me on through my self-pity and walks with me when I think I’m alone. Whatever shame or doubt I feel, it’s not from Him.

I could go on but I’ll stop. I’m blessed beyond measure. Yes, the big dreams are still to be completed, but I’m going to enjoy getting there. Happy Monday.

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Nik Curfman 2/21/21 Nik Curfman 2/21/21

Abstract: Amazing Grace, If I Wrote It

Amazing Grace,

How unhuman a thing,

Given so freely to every human being.

We all was lost, but we now see,

All unfaithful, yet all redeemed.

Amazing Grace,

How unhuman a thing,

Given so freely to every human being.

We all was lost, but we now see,

All unfaithful, yet all redeemed.

It’s this Grace,

That taught my heart to faith,

Taught me to believe,

God is the great Father,

Each one of us a born saint.

Through all the shit, flaws, and mistakes,

We have already marched,

It was Him who led us through it all,

And He will lead us on.

Truly Amazing Grace.

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Nik Curfman 2/21/21 Nik Curfman 2/21/21

Journal: #211 Pride for Royal Pines

At one point I began to feel a burden for them. I told the Lord, I felt like I should be doing something. Instantly He asked,”Isn’t life more than an outward appearance?” Yes. It is. The chain link fences and barking dogs are a sign they value something. Yes, they may be afraid of being robbed, but the presence of fear belies the presence of hope or self-worth. And, for the first time in my life, I felt a tinge of pride for Royal Pines.

I grew up in a working class neighborhood in northeast Columbia, South Carolina. It’s official name is Royal Pines Estates, which is a bit comical. My parents bought their house back in the mid-80’s, and have lived there ever since. They’ve seen many people move in and out. The character has remained the same. It’s a place full of immigrants, close to retirement baby boomers, and single parents families.

In an ocean of new housing, Royal Pines is a cheap option which lends itself to the current makeup. Most of the immigrants work in trades, and rents are affordable for the unskilled single parents and aging baby boomers. It’s beginning to change, but the neighborhood is mostly mobile homes built on sandy lots.

When I found out my dad had cancer I instantly thought about flying back to Columbia to be with my parents, to sleep in my room, and once again walk the side streets on my daily walks. It’s definitely not Redding, California. The sheer volume of trash littered from yard to yard is depressing, and each homes seems to guarded by a large all-too-willing-to-bark watch dog.

Over the last twelve days I’ve had plenty of time to observe my old neighborhood. I forgot how ashamed I was to live here; even though, I lived in one of the nicer brick houses. To be honest, I realized I was still ashamed to call this jumble of humanity my home. Why do the neighbors leave their broken TVs near the street? Why is there an empty cans of Chef Boyardee under the mailbox? Have these people no pride?

At one point I began to feel a burden for them. I told the Lord, I felt like I should be doing something. Instantly He asked,”Isn’t life more than an outward appearance?” Yes. It is. The chain link fences and barking dogs are a sign they value something. Yes, they may be afraid of being robbed, but the presence of fear belies the presence of hope or self-worth. And, for the first time in my life, I felt a tinge of pride for Royal Pines.

The world teaches us to focus on the negatives and flaws. It is a tactic of hell to judge by the outward appearance, but not the Lord. He doesn’t look at residents of Royal Pines the same way a cop or real estate agent might. He sees His kids, and He loves them.

Lord, bless the people of Royal Pines Estates. I pray for a covering over their lives to walk in the fullness of everything You create for them to be. May hopes be realized and dreams lived.

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 2/19/21 Nik Curfman 2/19/21

Journal: #210 Les Miserables Always Makes Me Cry

I’m never going to be a Christian in search of “the spot bride without wrinkle.” All too often we preach about sin. This is backwards. My job, anyone’s job, is to point people to Jesus. Whatever washing and cleansing the church must go through is a work of the Lord. Paul said that too. We got way too many Javert’s in the church, not enough Valjeans.

I was 14 the first time I watched Les Miserables. It was my first and remains my favorite musical. I took my nephew Tucker to see it when he was 14, and he loves it too.

Tonight, instead of watching Star Wars, I watched Les Mis with my dad. I could tell he was hooked in the first five minutes. (Unfortunately, my mother joined us a bit too late for any of the story to make sense. She’ll need to re-watch it to understand the true power of the story.) I always get a kick out of watching the tale of Jean Valjean with someone who’s never seen it before. The Spirit of Grace and Mercy is so thick, not even Hollywood can wash it away.

I also try to hide my emotions while I watch Les Mis. It’s powerful. I cry every time.

Jean Valjean is us. He’s a man punished for a petty crime and then doomed to a life of shame. He hates the world for who it says he is. Who can’t relate to that? Then in one glorious moment he experiences grace and love. One severe act of kindness changed his life.

(For all the sin and hell preaching in Evangelical America, it is the kindness of God that leads to repentance. Paul wrote that. It’s in the Bible.)

This evening I saw something different in the story I didn’t notice before. Jean Valjean is the epitome of grace and mercy. He is us and who we want to be. His pursuer Inspector Javert (because Valjean broke parole after prison) is a law man. Javert believes in “honest work and righteous living.”

The line that caught my attention is during a confrontation between Valjean and Javert. Javert says, “I was like you. I am from the gutter too.” In this respect, Valjean and Javert are two sides of the same coin. Valjean is love and redemption, while Javert puts his faith in following the law. He’s bound by it and finds his personal redemption in his moral code. One man was remade by God, and the other tried to remake himself.

I realize it’s not my job to stop the Javerts. They need grace and kindness too. They need the Lord of love too. As do I.

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Nik Curfman 2/18/21 Nik Curfman 2/18/21

Abstract: I Believe In Them

In this rundown part of a modern city,

There is life. There is hope. And, there is purpose.

Beyond the signs of the working class,

Beyond the unkept yards and trash,

These people believe in something.

And I,

I believe in them.

Sandy lots with unmovable junk cars,

Barking dogs and cheap mobile homes,

Dominate my old neighborhood.

It as though the owners are trying to keep strangers out,

But I have no idea who’s trying to get in.

Crushed coke cans and old carpets,

Broken TVs and shards of glass,

Litter the yards of the block where I grew up.

Any passerby would not mistake this place for one of wealth,

Or plan their next great heist.

Yet the fences are high, and the dogs do bark.

To protect what?

Hidden hopes,

and buried dreams.

Life.

In this rundown part of my city,

There is purpose.

Beyond the signs of the working class,

The unkept yards and trash,

These people,

My people,

They believe in something.

And I,

I believe in them.

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Nik Curfman 2/18/21 Nik Curfman 2/18/21

Journal: #209 Not My(Dating) Story PT. 4

The difference is Mike believes in himself in way I couldn’t understand- until recently. He believed he could be successful at something despite a huge failure. I find it utterly amazing. That’s what I want for my life. No failure is too great if I keep moving.

Last year, I failed. I had want I wanted. She didn’t want me. So, I’m gonna be like Mike. I’m gonna keep trucking, and believe in who the Lord created me to be.

This is the fourth and final installment of my dating stories meant to encourage myself and other single people. In the intro I wrote about my heart break last this year. Part 1 is about Bob and his path to Kelly. Bob overcame his pain and cynicism to go after Kelly, and they are wonderful together. Part 2 looks at Phil, and his long winding path to marriage. He was patient. It paid off. Part 3 is the tale of Willie, his divorce, and faith in the Lord.

When Mike married Janet it was a glorious spring afternoon. The real highlight was the surprise/drunk bagpipe player hired to play amazing grace for the ceremony. Mike and Janet were solid through all types of adversity. And, then they weren’t.

College Sweethearts

I met Mike twenty years ago at his house just before he married Janet. They were college sweethearts and looked the part. Mike was and remains a bit on the reserved side. He prefers to hang back while Janet bounces around every room she enters. They played music together and dreamed of touring the country.

Solid, Right?

Mike and Janet didn’t just dream of making music and touring the country. They did it. Mike produce an album while still in college. After they married, the Janet began to make appearances on following albums. The pair then started writing songs together, and produced a few more albums. In the summer of 2007, they got to do what they dreamed of doing- tour the country.

Not long after the tour Janet became pregnant with their first child, a boy. The pregnancy was hard on Janet’s narrow body. She pull through but it was a traumatizing moment. Mike supported Janet the way you’d think a husband should. They even let several needy friends crash in their spare room for a bit.

Mike and Janet remained a strong couple in my community. They hosted parties and held people accountable. Their door was always open, and MySpace proved they lacked for nothing. Their music never hit the charts, but they seemed fine with it. Life is more than music.

Child No. 2

In a way, Mike and Janet’s daughter was a miracle. Mike and Janet did not plan to have a second child based on their experience with the first. They put several measures in place to ensure Janet would not become pregnant. (Their daughter is proof no birth control is 100% affective.)

The pregnancy was not the hurdle the second time around. The developing baby girl had a heart defect, which would require surgery with days of birth. Most children are born with great joy. Their daughter was not. Two days later she had open heart surgery, then again a few months later. I lost count how many she had in total, but it was a lot.

I Don’t Know What Happened

I can’t say what cracked Mike and Janet. I know every couple struggles at some point and weaknesses. The head-scratcher is Mike and Janet were often vulnerable about the difficulties and hurdles they face. I thought they were one of the healthy couples. I thought they’d make it. I should’ve notice when they “took a break” from playing music. Something was off.

They’ll Work It? No, They Will Not

Mike and Janet separated around the same time Willie and Amy did. Along with my personal issues, my community was falling apart. (Willie and Amy were never the solid couple Mike and Janet were.) I somewhat expected Willie and Amy to divorce, but not Mike and Janet. I thought they’d find their way back to each other.

They did not.

Since it’s mostly rumors and one-sided stories (from Mike), I will forgo details. It’s my view they both gave up, and likely for different reasons. I knew it was over when Mike began to openly expressed his anger at Janet, and when Janet posted “You gotta grow up sometime” to Facebook. Whatever happened, they did not want to stay married to each other.

Mike Moves On

After the divorce, Mike didn’t take long to move on. I don’t think he was looking for his next wife, but he found Lydia on a dance floor in the NoDa neighborhood of north Charlotte. She is kind and quiet like Mike. I always get a kick out of the fact that she kinda looks like Janet, but that’s where the similarities end.

Lydia is a hero is my book. She started dating Mike during a nasty divorce, and became an all-star stepmother to his two kids. She accepted and loves Mike for who is. For me, it was good to see. I needed to see a woman love an imperfect man the way she did.

Mike Just Keeps Being Mike

What I love and admire about Mike is he who is. He’s always been a bit quiet. He’s always written and played music. I hope he never stops. It’s who he is. I’m sure some part of him would love to make money playing music, but he hasn’t let a lack of commercial success stop him. I am still struggling to get started doing what I love. Mike never stopped. Even in the middle his divorce he put out one of the most honest and raw albums I’ve ever heard.

A God of Redemption

I choose to believe most people mean “I do” the day they get married. So I can’t imagine the heartbreak of a divorce. I can’t imagine what it’s like to build a life, to overcome so much adversity the way Mike and Janet did, only to throw in the towel. Some part of me feels like it’s a waste. Didn’t they love each other? Yes. I think they did.

Last year taught me love isn’t enough. Marriage require something more, call it grit, fight, or stubbornness. I think at some point Mike and Janet ran out of juice. They were empty, and it’s a bad place to be when life slaps at our face. We all need Jesus at our center. We need His word in our heart. The other person should never have to lift that burden.

Where I find encouragement in Mike’s story is he kept trucking. At at time when I questioned marriage he got married, had kids, got divorced, and remarried. On some level, that’s faith in the Holy Spirit. I can barely date someone new years after a break up, and this dude is out there getting remarried? Maybe, I’m wrong.

Last year, I failed. I had want I wanted. She didn’t want me. So, I’m gonna be like Mike. I’m gonna keep trucking, and believe in who the Lord created me to be.

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Nik Curfman 2/17/21 Nik Curfman 2/17/21

Journal: #208 Face The Wall PT 2

I think the only true aim in life is to pursue the Lord and love those around us. The rest is up to Him. My task is to love myself so powerfully I shut all the voices, especially the ones in my head.

In part one of Face the Wall, I wrote about my need to face said wall as a means of mental and emotional survival. Most of my life, like Taylor Swift, I’ve relied on the praise and input of others. I was high when the words flowed in my favor, and depressed when they did not. The most discouraging reality is the harshest voice are in my head. No one judges me harder than I do, and it’s gotta stop.

In a few areas of my life I am as wise and patient as I’ve ever been. I’m physically healthier than at any point in my adult life. I am paying down my debt while sowing more into my investments. And, my bond with Jesus it growing everyday.

And yet, in others I still feel like a child at the back of the line. My writing can be drab and lifeless, my drawings like that of a teenager. Most of the time I do not worry about being single, which means on some days I do. I have goals and dreams, but they seem oceans away.

At 40, I now understand what faith is. I could continue to judge myself and settle for less. I could believe my past will prophesy my future, but I won’t. I choose to trust the Lord to lead me. I choose to believe He is my bridge from moments of doubt to the moment of promise. He is my shepherd and guide. I do not lack.

I don’t know where my life is headed. I do know I need to persevere. To do that, I’ve got to stop listening to the judges and start listening to the Lord. When I write I write to Him. When I draw, I draw for Him. It’s up the Holy Spirit as to what happens next.

The other day, as I contemplated this season of my life, I thought about so my heroes. I thought about St Paul, St Patrick, and a few others. Paul spent 9-10 years preparing to be a missionary after his conversion. St Patrick spent 25 years between his escape from Ireland to his return as Bishop of Ireland. Then there’s Vincent Van Gogh. He only sold a handful of paintings while he was alive. The number of paintings he sold is disputed, but his genius was only recognized after his death.

The point is most people who do anything worth a damn have a preparation period AND the grit to keep hacking when others relent. Paul was an ambitious Type A dude. I guarantee he was impatient while he sat under feeble-minded Peter. St Patrick certainly took his sweet ass time getting back to Ireland. And every human on the planet would be poorer had Van Gogh decided to turn in his paint brushes when critics dismissed his thick paint and heavy brushstrokes.

I want to be somebody worth a damn, and do things worth doing. Yet, I don’t think that can be the goal. All of the men listed above are more well-known in death than they were in life. In their time: Paul was a zealot spreading a new cult from Palestine, St Patrick was an idiot trying to evangelize an outpost of the Roman empire, and Van Gogh who took up painting after he failed at everything else (including preacher.)

I think the only true aim in life is to pursue the Lord and love those around us. The rest is up to Him. My task is to love myself so powerfully I shut all the voices, especially the ones in my head.

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Nik Curfman 2/15/21 Nik Curfman 2/15/21

Journal: #207 Face The Wall PT 1.

I want to add, this is more than blocking out public perception. It’s about finding my voice with the Lord. It’s a conversation, and I don’t care what comes of it. If I forever write and sculpt without any mass appeal, so be it. I will write and sculpt.

The first time I heard the phrase “face[ing] the wall” was in my early twenties. It was a from an older student at ministry school, and he was referring to the journey of Don Potter. It was Don who after being a long time studio musician, the Lord told to play to the worship to a wall- to perform to no one but Him.

When I first heard the story 20 years ago, I thought “Don must’ve been real arrogant.” I don’t think that any more. Who am I to judge? More over, I get it. The ability to toil in empty rooms is a blessing, not a curse. The curse comes when the approval of others means more than the approval of the Lord.

Taylor Swift is an excellent example of someone who lives with the curse. In the documentary Miss Americana she explained how awards and public opinion were her feedback loop. When it turned against her, she fell into a deep hole. (I wrote about it two weeks ago, because I know that hell as well. I get bummed when I post a new poem and it only receives a handful of likes.)

The last week or so, the Lord has continued to tell me He doesn’t keep score. My life isn’t a series of accomplishments or stats. Life isn’t the stock market. The Father loves and stays focused on our hearts. He’s the goofy dad on the sidelines, and proud parent who decorates his cubicle with every shitty stick figure drawing His kids make.

He’s that dude.

I recently began to let go of numbers and the corresponding value I place upon them. For instance, I have not looked at my blog analytics (how many website visitors to this site, what pages they read, etc) since last week. Who knows who’s reading my posts or how often? I don’t. It’s nice.

But first, I need to get all the judges and past voices out of my heart, and let the Lord fill it. That’s where I am on February 16th, 2021. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

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Nik Curfman 2/15/21 Nik Curfman 2/15/21

Abstract: Medical Miracles

But for a son with only one dad,

Miracles that involve blood tests, CT scans, and surgery,

Are no less grand.

It’s not spit and mud from the hand of the King,

Or walking on water,

Or glorious resurrection.

But for a son with only one dad,

Miracles that involve blood tests, CT scans, and surgery,

Are no less grand.

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Nik Curfman 2/15/21 Nik Curfman 2/15/21

Journal: #206 Today Was a Smooth Day

Today was a smooth day, no lumps or bumps. Everything went according to plan, and I was not hounded by anxiety or any particular fear. Naturally, I wanted something to go wrong. Peace and contentment are uncommon, so I feel odd when they are present.

There’s an alternative narrative to today. Maybe, just maybe, I’m learning to handle my life without flipping out. It might only last a day, but consider the following. My dad still has cancer. I thought about my old girlfriend a few times. Rain fell all day, which made my walks a sloppy affair. And, I think I gained a pound or two since I got to Columbia.

Is all that so bad? I don’t know. Cancer sucks, and I’d rather not think about someone who dumped me. I’d also like the dogs in my parents neighborhood to shut the f*ck up, but I’m not concerned about the weight. In all honesty, I’m not concerned about any of it.

Yes. My dad has cancer. All my worry and hand-wringing won’t stop it. Prayer and/or modern medicine will. Seems pretty simple.

Yes. I thought about the former lady friend. I’m not going to kick myself for it any longer. Thoughts are thoughts. They aren’t sins, and don’t have to carry anxiety with them. I also thought about politics, marketing, and meme I saw on Reddit. So what?

The rain isn’t awesome. The dogs are worse. But, I walk for me. I’ll walk whenever and wherever I need to walk.

As for my weight, I think I’m overeating cheese and nuts. It’s nothing to freak out over, so I won’t.

I think ending my streak on walks, posts, and journaling help remove a need to perform. I can take everyday as it comes now. I wasn’t particularly jazzed about writing this blog post, but here I am. I want to do this, regardless of my motivation.

This moment seems like one of those moments when the Lords is doing something. Last week He told me to stop looking at numbers. I gotta say, I’m seeing a difference. My thoughts to do not drift uncontrollably to the opinions of others. It helps to just do. I’m reminded of when I first began to blog last July. No one knew I had a blog; therefore, I wrote whatever I wanted to write.

It was awesome- and if my entire life is going to turn into that- I’m for it.

Lord, you are wise beyond anything I will ever understand. Thank you for giving me practical actions to help me live my best life. More Lord. Amen.