Abstract: Prayers For My Country

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They taught the kids about the Fathers,

that they owned slaves,

and repressed women,

and slaughtered natives,

and made piles of money,

and went to war,

and polluted the air and seas.

They taught them to loathe the people who built and created and sacrificed,

because they had the audacity to be imperfect.

Bastards.

One day history will come for them,

because they taught the children to hate the pioneers and inventors,

to hate their bodies,

and anyone who makes a profit.

They will be known the Destructionist.

And I pray America has the strength to endure them.

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Vol III: #89 Graduations

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I recently said to a friend,”We’ve entered that stage of life where the people we love start graduating from life and I’m not ready for it.” And honestly, I find tragedy easier to handle than the inevitable. Because we all die. Every single one of us. The tragedies- the car accidents and overdoses and terminal cancer before age 30- are easy to rationalize as random or fate. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to my parents or yours. You know? The people who die mostly because of lifestyle and being old.

And, to be fair to these boomers marching toward the stage, they’ve lived full lives. Kids, grandkids, pets and more pets. They’ve loved the poor and preached the Gospel. And I’m proud of them. Truly. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.

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Vol III: #88 He Is With Us

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A few weeks ago, I received an ominous text from my long time friend Simeon: Did you hear about Chuck? Call me. I didn’t know, but I knew. Chuck was a conspiracy theorist, an addict, and God-miracle all in one body. He’d been part of a cult, a top salesman at the tech firm where I met him, and liked to smoke weed at lunch. And, before he returned to Charlotte to give rehab another go, he lived in his Ford Explorer, preferring to park over night near Whiskeytown Lake or the dam.

When Simeon told me Chuck overdosed on heroin, I felt nothing and spent the rest of the conversation trying to comfort Simeon. After the call, I reached out to Josh. He was a good and loyal friend to Chuck and I knew he’d take it hard. And, he did. I suppose he thought he could save Chuck or something. My best guess is Josh spent the last three years praying for Chuck, to see him set free of addiction and his marriage restored. Josh has been through all this before, mind you. He’s got a past and a deadly overdose isn’t knew. What’s eating him is the hope he held for his friend. And now…he feels like he failed or did something wrong. And this is a reality for all praying Christians. Sometimes we fail. For whatever reason, our prayers seem to be ignored. And in these moments we are faced with the hardest of all challenges and a choice. Do we press onward or become bitter and jaded, searching for answers in another god?

I hate that I was numb to the news of Chuck’s passing, and I’ll admit I was even cynical about it. Everything about Chuck’s recent life choices made him a prime candidate for an overdose. But, that’s not cool. More so, something I noticed today was I stopped praying for miracles. And I hate that too. To pray, genuinely believing, is to have hope. And hope can be a two edged sword. If fulfilled, hope is one of the greatest gifts in the universe. Yet, when left unfilled, or as the Bible calls it “hope deferred”…that’s the stuff that makes your gut rot from the inside out. And not even Jesus told us how to handle failure and grief.

But, He did make a promise to love us, to be with us, and to never leave us. He’s with us in the lowest moments, when anxiety hits and we are left dazed and afraid of what’s next, He is with us.

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Abstract: Nature Is Nature

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A fat, grey squirrel with a puffy tail watched me hike up a hill by the creek,

and when I notice him, he darted for a hole in the middle of the path.

How odd, I thought.

For all the squirrels I observe in these woods,

I don’t see any nests in the trees.

They must want to be nearer to water and food.

Too hot in the summer too.

That’s why they dig holes all over this park!

And proud of myself for solving a great mystery,

I dubbed these squirrels to be Grey Ground Squirrels and sauntered on.

Today, as the sun slide behind the mountain,

I looked out my back door, a big sliding window,

And caught a life and death scene.

A cat was climbing a skinny black oak while a grey squirrel chattered and hissed.

And not just a cat.

A spotted and short tailed, bobcat.

The squirrel tried to lure the bobcat away, but for naught.

The hungry feline slipped into its nest,

and the hopeless parent dashed away.

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Vol III: #87 Normal Day

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I woke up in a funk this morning, what I’ll describe as a mental haze of hopelessness. And the funk wasn’t one of heightened emotion or anxiety, on the contrary it was very logical. The thoughts in my head attacked my sense of purpose and the vision I have for my life, and all this at 5 am… I assume other people wake up in a similar fashion, though hopefully not every day. And what a dreadful way to start a week.

I hate thoughts like I’m a failure, I’ll never succeed, and you’re living a lie. And I often wonder if I’m full of shit, if I’m creating a world where success is always out there but never something I can achieve. And if success for a 42 year-old is defined by wealth and a family, then yes, I’m an abject failure. And early in the morning, these types of judgments hit harder and seem to sink deeper into my soul than they normally do.

What I’m proud of is my reaction to my early morning cocktail of lies and anxiety. Instead of sleeping away my morning or rationalizing a defeated day, I went to the prayer chapel and then to the gym. And by 8 am I was sweaty and more grounded, able to focus on my work day. I don’t know why or for how long I will battle feeling like a fraud or failure. As a general concept I believe in the idea of victory over anxiety and fear, over lies and self-sabotaging notions. And I also believe victory means being free from these thoughts or emotions. Perhaps that’s not how it works. Maybe the first victory look like today, in my choice to push on with my day, in doing of what looks so normal to everyone else.

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Vol III: #86 Weird Smells

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Over the last few weeks, I’ve smelled a strange series of aromas and smells. And I have not sought this out, rather it’s random, be it at Trader Joe’s or in my apartment or at the gym with people or without. Feels as though my nose is broken. Today is a good example of what I mean as I’ve smelled a sour if slightly earthy odor all morning. And I wonder if my condition is part of my post-COVID reality.

I don’t want to claim a dysfunction- some people define their lives by their ailments and phobias, not me- but this odor/scent thing isn’t going away. Left with only a handful of choices, I choose to pray for healing. I know it’s a small ask, but I’d rather not sniff pond scum all day. So Lord, sweet Jesus, heal my nose and sense of smell. Amen.

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Abstract: Paying And Loving

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Everything you treasure,

came with a price.

Be it your time, your money, your emotions and life force,

each person you love cost you something.

And the more you paid, the more you love,

and want to love.

This is the way life works.

So let us stop wishing to win a lottery,

or have our debts paid by someone else.

Your mission is to keep on paying the bill,

whenever it’s due.

To love and give and spend every drop of life you’ve got.

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Vol III: #85 But, Try Again

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Three years ago, as the Pandemic and masks and debates began to warm, my life took a gentle but sharp turn. The Lord asked me to lay down the plans and dreams I had in the moment- as business owner and boyfriend- to embrace a new path. He asked me to step into the unknown, the unplanned, and undreamt. And so, over the summer of 2020, I prayed and cried and believed. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t put my faith in a scheme or strategy, rather I learned to be faithful and consistent.

I feel like I am still striving and learning to be faithful, allowing for results to be a result of a process rather than forced outcome. This life, my new life, is one that requires patience and grace because I fail everyday. Like, everyday. Without love, for myself, I’d give up and fall down a deep well of self-pity. And it is the Lord who whispers “I love you, Nik.” And if His words are the truest, than however I judge myself, I must be wrong. And what I learned to do over the last three years can be rendered into two words: try again.

What? Your mind isn’t melting? Yeah, I understand how underwhelming my big life lesson. But, it’s huge for yours truly. The internet and academics and my own thoughts/emotions are often stacked against me. The pull to settle for comfort and normal is strong. I’m too old, too unskilled, untested, and I lack discipline. No one would blame me if I settle into my job found a basic white lady and started pumping out kids. But, that’s not me. That’s not the journey I’m living. Faith means doing things you didn’t think you could, watching the Lord flow through your heart and fingers, out into the world.

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Vol III: #84 Falling Off The Horse

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I was in a groove by late April: in bed by 9 pm, up by 5 am, good diet, daily trips to the gym, all of it. And then, I traveled a bit and fell off my horse, And I feel like I’m chasing that bastard, and he keeps running from me, one day into the next. I can’t quiet grip the reins, of feeling good about how I spend my time. Too much time playing video games, not enough reading or writing. It’s an odd pattern to live, and not one I want to continue. And yet, this moment has to be part of the progress.

The mystery of why do I fall out of good habits then have to battle anxiety and shame to get back on my horse? is a question to be answered another day. I know I’m not the only one with these types of battles. And perhaps what matters most is the doing. Who cares why? The opportunity I have shorten the timeline from falling off to getting back on. I know what I must do even if I don’t know why. That’s faith, right?

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Vol III: #83 To Defend or Turn Cheek?

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This work week was a good week. Our business grew by 20% in five days. And now a new anxiety has replaced the old as more than once I wondered can our fulfillment team keep pace with the sales team? Of all the problems to have, that’s the one any business wants. And I trust our leadership. This isn’t their first rodeo.

On the disturbing side of life, I encountered my first personal/professional attack from a competitor. I was made aware of the attack by a would-be client and my head spun as I read the email. A competing sales person stated that she’d worked with me and I was known liar, and that our business was built on lies. How ironic. The modern term for this behavior is gaslighting- when a person accuses another of the thing(being a liar) they are doing(lying). I’ve never met Alise and she’s never met me. Still, I could feel my jaw tighten and I thought of ways to make her life hell.

After the initial shock wore off, I closed my eyes and sank into my seat. I wondered how someone could be so bold and a few questions came to mind, mostly how I ought to handle this type of situation in the future. My aim is to shoot my clients straight and create a healthy expectation for their project with us. My inclination is to ignore the noise and keep my head down. I know myself and our business. And yet, a small rage still burns in my mind as I type. What a bunch of f#ckers?

Silence is not a respected tactic in 2023, not in the era of offense and outrage. But, it is Biblical. Jesus remained quiet as his accusers yelled and screamed, as did Stephen. And while I’d love to see myself as saintly in this moment, I find more direction in the words of Mark Twain:

“Never argue with stupid(lying) people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”

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Abstract: Real Love Suffers

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Real love is nothing like what I see in movies or porn.

It’s not the lusty feeling before a release,

Not an enjoyment of a pretty face or kind smile.

Love isn’t chemical or hormonal.

And, there’s nothing wrong or unholy about sex or attraction*.

Both are good and made from the image of God and all his Holy ways.

But real love, true love, is long-suffering,

or as is described in the vows “in sickness and health, good times and bad, till death.”

Real love is a wife watching her husband battle cancer to his death, being by his side through every treatment and pill and when he departs.

Real love is never giving up, not when all of life has been cruel and unkind,

knowing what they say is all bullshit.

What matters is the hope in our response.

Because love- the kind we choose above circumstance, offense, or emotion- doesn’t fail.

*Just in case y’all got confused. Lust and porn are bad. Attraction and sex not bad :)

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Vol III: #82 Two Weeks Ago

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Two weeks ago, I was mired in a long losing streak. It was terrible. And as I wrote in my previous post, I hated feeling like a failure, but instead of running, instead of cutting my losses for safer ground, I dug in and went to work. After 43 years of life, I’d finally learned to run toward my flaws, not away from them. And yesterday, I closed my first sale. I texted a handful of my faithful supporters, and went out for noodles and ice cream to celebrate.

And then today, I received two more verbals commitments, meaning I’m signed paperwork away from closing two more sales. That’s makes three in two days. My hope is this new streak- a winning streak- is the beginning of something special, for me and our company. But mostly, I want to let myself enjoy the accomplishment, of fighting through fear and failure to do something I didn’t believe I could.

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