Prelude
My life is stalked by a dark, ruthless, and determined enemy. He shows no mercy and extends no kindness. His attacks are brutal and cruel. He preys upon my weakness. He robs me of my joy, my happiness, and my very existance. He drains away my energy, saps me of my strength, and steals away my courage and my honor. He strips me of my dignity and my confidence, and leaves me empty and defeated. From every side he hedges me in. The sky above is brass, the ground under my feet is paved with steel. He walls me in with iron. He mocks me from without. He torments me from within. He stakes his claim upon my soul. He pierces my heart with his banner of victory.
In this battle of strength and might I find I have no defense and I have no tactics. I have nothing with which to fight back. So I wait. He pummels my soul. He bombards my senses. He badgers my mind. But still I wait. I am weary, I am battered, I am wounded and bruised, but I must wait. With his icy fingers he grips my heart. The pressure is intense. I struggle to draw my breath. My mind fills with fog. My body shakes and shivers. Tears course down my cheeks. It feels like I am dying. It feels like my life is slipping away. But still I must wait. I wait because I know. I wait because I understand. I wait because I have learned.
As powerful and as intimdating as this enemy might be, as unrelenting and tenatious as he is, he cannot take my soul. He may abuse me, torment me, and afflict me with pain and suffering, but he cannot have my soul. He cannot take my life for it is not his to take. I am not his. He does not own me. He cannot have me.
I cannot fight this battle, I do not have the strength. And no one else can fight it for me. I am alone and yet I am not alone. And so I wait. In patience, in faith, in silence I wait. I cannot trust myself. I cannot trust another. I wait. I wait because I am not alone. I wait for One, the only One.
In this battle of strength and might I find I have no defense and I have no tactics. I have nothing with which to fight back. So I wait. He pummels my soul. He bombards my senses. He badgers my mind. But still I wait. I am weary, I am battered, I am wounded and bruised, but I must wait. With his icy fingers he grips my heart. The pressure is intense. I struggle to draw my breath. My mind fills with fog. My body shakes and shivers. Tears course down my cheeks. It feels like I am dying. It feels like my life is slipping away. But still I must wait. I wait because I know. I wait because I understand. I wait because I have learned.
As powerful and as intimdating as this enemy might be, as unrelenting and tenatious as he is, he cannot take my soul. He may abuse me, torment me, and afflict me with pain and suffering, but he cannot have my soul. He cannot take my life for it is not his to take. I am not his. He does not own me. He cannot have me.
I cannot fight this battle, I do not have the strength. And no one else can fight it for me. I am alone and yet I am not alone. And so I wait. In patience, in faith, in silence I wait. I cannot trust myself. I cannot trust another. I wait. I wait because I am not alone. I wait for One, the only One.
Welcome
This site will contain no ads. There will be no flashing pop-ups to annoy you and distract you. Solitary Place is free for you to enjoy.
Welcome to Solitary Place and thank you for stopping by. This site is open and available to all who are seeking for hope in a hopeless world. My struggles, my failures, my victories, and my perspectives are here recorded that others might find strength and courage in their own battles with life. We all have our demons. We all have our battles. Sometimes discouragement and depression take over and we fall into lethargy and despair. I reach out to those who are disappointed with their lives, those who are tired of the pain, those who are seeking for something beyond what this world has to offer. A journey is before you. A tough journey. A rocky and rough road. A hard quest. It will test your resolve. It will push you to your limits. But as you begin to fight back you find that very small victories can return huge rewards of satisfaction, fulfillment, and purpose.
I am not some great writer or well known author. I have no books in my name. I have not left my mark on the literary world. I am but a lowly human, an inhabitant of this world, a sufferer as yourself. I too seek answers. I too look for purpose. I too search for fulfillment. Take courage from these pages. Take heart in your conflicts. Seek wisdom. Seek truth. Seek for purpose.
The conflict rages but each battle has it's end. Will it be a victory or a defeat? It's up to each one of us to decide the outcome.
This site will contain no ads. There will be no flashing pop-ups to annoy you and distract you. Solitary Place is free for you to enjoy.
Welcome to Solitary Place and thank you for stopping by. This site is open and available to all who are seeking for hope in a hopeless world. My struggles, my failures, my victories, and my perspectives are here recorded that others might find strength and courage in their own battles with life. We all have our demons. We all have our battles. Sometimes discouragement and depression take over and we fall into lethargy and despair. I reach out to those who are disappointed with their lives, those who are tired of the pain, those who are seeking for something beyond what this world has to offer. A journey is before you. A tough journey. A rocky and rough road. A hard quest. It will test your resolve. It will push you to your limits. But as you begin to fight back you find that very small victories can return huge rewards of satisfaction, fulfillment, and purpose.
I am not some great writer or well known author. I have no books in my name. I have not left my mark on the literary world. I am but a lowly human, an inhabitant of this world, a sufferer as yourself. I too seek answers. I too look for purpose. I too search for fulfillment. Take courage from these pages. Take heart in your conflicts. Seek wisdom. Seek truth. Seek for purpose.
The conflict rages but each battle has it's end. Will it be a victory or a defeat? It's up to each one of us to decide the outcome.
Contact
Articles
Introduction
Part 1 - Beginnings - 2017-06-01
Part 1 - Beginnings - 2017-06-01
Introduction
Part 1 - Beginnings
Have you ever gone back to read something you wrote some time in the past and suddenly your heart is heavy and your emotions threaten to overflow with tears because you feel like you have strayed from the original intent and plans you had laid out? It might be a few years ago, several years ago, or maybe decades ago? That's what happened to me with some works on depression I had done over 10 years ago. The documents sat in my documents folder transferring from one computer to another over the years and soon I forgot about them. Until I was considering what to write as an introduction to this site. As I scanned through the first article I found the following statement:
"As time goes on I will do my best to put into words not only the struggles and the battles that I fight but also the victories and the enlightenment that I gain along the way. My life is not my own. I am here for a reason and I will do my best to fulfill my purpose."
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense that I had not kept to my purpose. I had strayed from the path. I had lost the goal for my future. And now I find myself in a struggle to come back to my original plan, a plan to not only find fulfillment, purpose, and truth for my own life, but to make known my own struggles, battles, and victories in a way that others might find strength and courage for their own lives.
"My life is not my own." I have forgotten this most important key. I am not here for myself. I am here for others. I am here to help, to strengthen, to encourage. If I am to fulfill a purpose in this life then my heart should have no place for selfishness.
Solitary Place is about struggles and triumphs, loses and gains, valleys and mountains, darkness and light. It's about losing the way and the efforts to find it again. It's about facing powerful enemies that would enslave the soul. It's about small victories in the midst of huge battles. It's about faults and failures. It's about virtues and successes.
It's also about the search for truth in a world of lies, deceit, and falsehoods. It's about reality. It's about logic. It's about perspectives on life. It's about perceptions built from the past. It's about finding new ways of thinking.
My thoughts in words! That sounds scary!
"As time goes on I will do my best to put into words not only the struggles and the battles that I fight but also the victories and the enlightenment that I gain along the way. My life is not my own. I am here for a reason and I will do my best to fulfill my purpose."
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense that I had not kept to my purpose. I had strayed from the path. I had lost the goal for my future. And now I find myself in a struggle to come back to my original plan, a plan to not only find fulfillment, purpose, and truth for my own life, but to make known my own struggles, battles, and victories in a way that others might find strength and courage for their own lives.
"My life is not my own." I have forgotten this most important key. I am not here for myself. I am here for others. I am here to help, to strengthen, to encourage. If I am to fulfill a purpose in this life then my heart should have no place for selfishness.
Solitary Place is about struggles and triumphs, loses and gains, valleys and mountains, darkness and light. It's about losing the way and the efforts to find it again. It's about facing powerful enemies that would enslave the soul. It's about small victories in the midst of huge battles. It's about faults and failures. It's about virtues and successes.
It's also about the search for truth in a world of lies, deceit, and falsehoods. It's about reality. It's about logic. It's about perspectives on life. It's about perceptions built from the past. It's about finding new ways of thinking.
My thoughts in words! That sounds scary!
My Prayer
Part 1 - My Prayer - 2017-07-08
Part 1 - My Prayer - 2017-07-08
My Prayer
Part 1 - My Prayer
Through this world I make my way. Into the dark forests and shadows of great valleys I roam. To the wide open skies and dizzying heights of the mountain peaks I climb. Across the vast and sprawling plains I stride. Into the murky depths of the watery abyss I sink. Sorrows overwhelm me. Pain strips my soul bare. Failure stalks my every move. My heart grows weary and tired and my steps falter.
But here is my prayer:
Oh Shepherd of mine, in this world I may suffer many things. I may bow under trials of heart and mind. I may endure tortures of soul and spirit. I may enter into the depths of the sea or wander through the valley of the shadow of death.
Sometimes I would wish for my way to be easy. I might hope for smooth paths and seas. I may long for lightness of heart at all times. I may desire summer sun, cool breezes, and soft velvet carpets of pleasure. I might ask for trails with no tears, paths with no mountains, a course along sandy beaches, a paved circuit through beautiful forests and meadows. I could ask that gardens of plenty be my portion at all times, that hunger and need be not known or endured.
If all these things were true and I had no problems, challenges, or troubles, then where would I be today, and who would I be right now? How could I touch a hurting heart if I had not been there myself? How could I sympathize with someone in pain if I had not endured it myself? How could I appreciate the beauty if I had not been exposed to the ugly? How could I become stronger if I had not at one time been weak? How could I lead someone who was lost if I had not been lost myself?
No! I may ask, but please don't take away the trials. Please don't remove the mountains. Please leave the murky ocean depths as they are. Please leave the sorrow, the pain, and the weariness.
But this is what I ask: Please take my hand and walk beside me. When I enter the valleys of suffering, just be with me. When sorrows overrun my soul, stay by my side. When pain racks my body and my spirit faints by the way, gently wipe my brow and remind me why I'm here. When I am thrust into hell, enter with me. When the flames of trial and heartache encircle me, press me close to your heart. When my steps falter. lift me up. When my strength fails, stay with me. When my eyes grow dim, speak softly to me. When tears flow like rivers down my face, just hold me. When fear and anxiety would tear away my peace, sing to me. And when I can go no further and I must say good bye, please, just hold my hand.
This is all I ask: Just hold my hand.
But here is my prayer:
Oh Shepherd of mine, in this world I may suffer many things. I may bow under trials of heart and mind. I may endure tortures of soul and spirit. I may enter into the depths of the sea or wander through the valley of the shadow of death.
Sometimes I would wish for my way to be easy. I might hope for smooth paths and seas. I may long for lightness of heart at all times. I may desire summer sun, cool breezes, and soft velvet carpets of pleasure. I might ask for trails with no tears, paths with no mountains, a course along sandy beaches, a paved circuit through beautiful forests and meadows. I could ask that gardens of plenty be my portion at all times, that hunger and need be not known or endured.
If all these things were true and I had no problems, challenges, or troubles, then where would I be today, and who would I be right now? How could I touch a hurting heart if I had not been there myself? How could I sympathize with someone in pain if I had not endured it myself? How could I appreciate the beauty if I had not been exposed to the ugly? How could I become stronger if I had not at one time been weak? How could I lead someone who was lost if I had not been lost myself?
No! I may ask, but please don't take away the trials. Please don't remove the mountains. Please leave the murky ocean depths as they are. Please leave the sorrow, the pain, and the weariness.
But this is what I ask: Please take my hand and walk beside me. When I enter the valleys of suffering, just be with me. When sorrows overrun my soul, stay by my side. When pain racks my body and my spirit faints by the way, gently wipe my brow and remind me why I'm here. When I am thrust into hell, enter with me. When the flames of trial and heartache encircle me, press me close to your heart. When my steps falter. lift me up. When my strength fails, stay with me. When my eyes grow dim, speak softly to me. When tears flow like rivers down my face, just hold me. When fear and anxiety would tear away my peace, sing to me. And when I can go no further and I must say good bye, please, just hold my hand.
This is all I ask: Just hold my hand.
Revealed
Part 1 - Preface - 2017-06-10
Part 2 - Revealed - 2012-06-19
Part 1 - Preface - 2017-06-10
Revealed
Part 1 - Preface
From the moment I drew my first breath of life in this world I have been part of a wonderful, loving, caring, and accepting family. As a devoted Christian and a faithful follower of Jesus Christ my mother did her best to raise us under the banner of the Word of God. It was not easy. As a single mother with four very hungry children, she struggled constantly to keep food on the table. She worked tirelessly, sometimes up to 3 jobs at a time in an effort to keep us fed. I seldom saw my mother. I do not blame her for this. In fact I love her more for all that she did for her family and the unbelievable sacrifices that she made. In the midst of her battles for the survival of her family she found time to teach and instruct. The Bible was the foundation of her faith and she did all in her power to pass on this heritage to her children. One of the first verses I learned was John 3:16, the most well known verse in the Bible. The first chapter she helped me memorize was Psalms 23, the shepherds Psalm. After this came a rooting and a grounding in the fundamental doctrines and beliefs of the Word.
Life was much more of a struggle than I can remember or even knew about for that matter. But the events, the trials, and the stresses of those early years had a profound impact on my life as an adult. Depression, anxiety, and weariness have stalked me most of my years. Failing to comprehend the purpose of my life I struggled to make sense of the pain in my heart and the loneliness of my soul. Being faithful and active both in attendance and in participation in my local church did little to ease my distressed mind as to why I was even here on this small planet. In September of 1994, a deeply rooted addiction and a sudden realization of a failed life tore my marriage apart. I cut my ties with my church, withdrew from my family, and slipped into a world of shame, regret, and compromises. Poor decisions led to deeper guilt and depression, ultimately forcing me to the brink of self-annihilation.
One thing that I could never shake or separate myself from was the fundamental teachings of the Word that my mother had instilled into my mind. As my life spiraled downward these teachings stayed with me, in my mind and in my heart. As my life spiraled downward I knew where I was going but I just couldn't stop. Addiction and lack of self-control overtook me and my soul was plunged into blackness.
This is the short account of the beginning of my return. A line in the sand. A single day.
Life was much more of a struggle than I can remember or even knew about for that matter. But the events, the trials, and the stresses of those early years had a profound impact on my life as an adult. Depression, anxiety, and weariness have stalked me most of my years. Failing to comprehend the purpose of my life I struggled to make sense of the pain in my heart and the loneliness of my soul. Being faithful and active both in attendance and in participation in my local church did little to ease my distressed mind as to why I was even here on this small planet. In September of 1994, a deeply rooted addiction and a sudden realization of a failed life tore my marriage apart. I cut my ties with my church, withdrew from my family, and slipped into a world of shame, regret, and compromises. Poor decisions led to deeper guilt and depression, ultimately forcing me to the brink of self-annihilation.
One thing that I could never shake or separate myself from was the fundamental teachings of the Word that my mother had instilled into my mind. As my life spiraled downward these teachings stayed with me, in my mind and in my heart. As my life spiraled downward I knew where I was going but I just couldn't stop. Addiction and lack of self-control overtook me and my soul was plunged into blackness.
This is the short account of the beginning of my return. A line in the sand. A single day.
Part 2 - Revealed - 2012-06-19
Revealed
Part 2 - Revealed
It was July 27, 2001. A day I will never forget. I stepped into the tent that sheltered the art show from the hot July sun. Paintings and sketches of all types hung from turn styles and rounds, portraying the styles and artistic tastes of various artists. Why I was here was not altogether clear. I was not in a good frame of mind and I was certainly not interested in art at that moment. And yet, here I was apparently trying to find somewhere else to put my mind; trying to find some way to distract my thoughts. Or had I been led here by a greater power? Taking my lunch break from work I had come to the Tualatin Commons hoping that the bright summer sun would dispell the blackness in my soul. A deep emptiness and hopelessness filled my heart, and the emotions within me twisted into a thousand knots like demons determined on inflicting as much pain and misery as possible.
It was a beautiful sunny day but to my soul it was as dark as midnight. Gloom hung around me like a shroud that seemed to shut out all light. My life was hanging by a thread and I was poised to sever this last connection. I was tired, weary, and hurting and I just wanted it to end; I just wanted it to go away. From the depths of my misery and heartache I poured out my heart to the God I had been raised to believe in; the God I had turned my back on. "If you can hear me, I need You. I have done everything wrong; I have lost everything that I held dear; my life has become a burden and now I just want to die. Are you listening? Can you hear me? Do you care?" But no matter what I said my words just seemed to evaporate into the atmosphere around me. Children played in the fountain, families were feeding the ducks in the pond, couples walked by hand in hand. But with others around me I found myself utterly alone.
In a battle for my soul the forces of darkness had come to the very brink of victory, and yet, even though I did not understand it at the moment, an invisible providence had led me to this very point in time and to this very location. Little did I realize what was about to happen. Little did I realize that at that very moment a line was being drawn in the sand. Little did I realize that this would be the day that would change my life from one with no purpose or direction to one that had a journey to fulfill and a destination to reach for.
Standing under the shade of the tent that day I wondered why on earth I was here. I couldn't focus or concentrate and I had no interest in this stuff at the moment. But here I was. As I took in my surroundings my eyes fell upon a small watercolor painting. Tucked in amongst several other pictures hanging from a display round it was a simple and unassuming facial portrait of a man. His eyes were expressive and his face was turned up slightly as he looked towards the sky. It captured my full attention. There was no mistake. I knew who it was. My soul stirred within me. My eyes were fixed and everything around faded away. I stepped in closer for a better view and suddenly tears flooded my eyes and cascaded down my face. On the right side of the painting was this caption: "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." My heart melted as the words penetrated into the very depths of my being. As I stood before that image entranced. Divine Grace was, at that moment, extending its hand of gentleness and acceptance. Time stood still and through an invisible rift in the fabric of eternity a hand stretched forth and touched my heart. He had heard my cries. He had heard the despair and had seen the hopelessness inside my soul. And now here He was, the God of my childhood, extending His hand to me through a rift in the fabric of time and space. Using this simple painting as a medium, He had found a way through the gloom and darkness that enveloped me, revealing Himself to me, and sending me a message of hope.
With my eyes blurred over from tears I left the tent and attempted to gain some element of control over my emotions. Oblivious to anything else around me I returned to my car and headed back to work. Something significant had taken place and yet I was unsure of the implications. It was an hour later before I came to the sudden realization that the darkness which had surrounded me only a short time before was completely gone. My burden had vanished and the afternoon became the utter opposite of what my morning had been. Light penetrated into my mind and flooded my soul with its warmth and it's beauty.
Throughout the years that have followed, that promise, written as the caption to that painting has not failed. Even though many times I have done my own thing and have deliberately ignored Him, He has faithfully held to my side. With gentleness, patience, and love He has led me from the darkness of night into His wonderful light. I have stumbled and fallen many times since and I have at times again found myself in the clutches of hopelessness and defeat, but that promise always shines through and somehow He finds a way to bring me back to the light. From the end of a lonely and dark street to a pathway leading into an eternal relationship with Him, God gave me back my tomorrow.
It was a beautiful sunny day but to my soul it was as dark as midnight. Gloom hung around me like a shroud that seemed to shut out all light. My life was hanging by a thread and I was poised to sever this last connection. I was tired, weary, and hurting and I just wanted it to end; I just wanted it to go away. From the depths of my misery and heartache I poured out my heart to the God I had been raised to believe in; the God I had turned my back on. "If you can hear me, I need You. I have done everything wrong; I have lost everything that I held dear; my life has become a burden and now I just want to die. Are you listening? Can you hear me? Do you care?" But no matter what I said my words just seemed to evaporate into the atmosphere around me. Children played in the fountain, families were feeding the ducks in the pond, couples walked by hand in hand. But with others around me I found myself utterly alone.
In a battle for my soul the forces of darkness had come to the very brink of victory, and yet, even though I did not understand it at the moment, an invisible providence had led me to this very point in time and to this very location. Little did I realize what was about to happen. Little did I realize that at that very moment a line was being drawn in the sand. Little did I realize that this would be the day that would change my life from one with no purpose or direction to one that had a journey to fulfill and a destination to reach for.
Standing under the shade of the tent that day I wondered why on earth I was here. I couldn't focus or concentrate and I had no interest in this stuff at the moment. But here I was. As I took in my surroundings my eyes fell upon a small watercolor painting. Tucked in amongst several other pictures hanging from a display round it was a simple and unassuming facial portrait of a man. His eyes were expressive and his face was turned up slightly as he looked towards the sky. It captured my full attention. There was no mistake. I knew who it was. My soul stirred within me. My eyes were fixed and everything around faded away. I stepped in closer for a better view and suddenly tears flooded my eyes and cascaded down my face. On the right side of the painting was this caption: "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." My heart melted as the words penetrated into the very depths of my being. As I stood before that image entranced. Divine Grace was, at that moment, extending its hand of gentleness and acceptance. Time stood still and through an invisible rift in the fabric of eternity a hand stretched forth and touched my heart. He had heard my cries. He had heard the despair and had seen the hopelessness inside my soul. And now here He was, the God of my childhood, extending His hand to me through a rift in the fabric of time and space. Using this simple painting as a medium, He had found a way through the gloom and darkness that enveloped me, revealing Himself to me, and sending me a message of hope.
With my eyes blurred over from tears I left the tent and attempted to gain some element of control over my emotions. Oblivious to anything else around me I returned to my car and headed back to work. Something significant had taken place and yet I was unsure of the implications. It was an hour later before I came to the sudden realization that the darkness which had surrounded me only a short time before was completely gone. My burden had vanished and the afternoon became the utter opposite of what my morning had been. Light penetrated into my mind and flooded my soul with its warmth and it's beauty.
Throughout the years that have followed, that promise, written as the caption to that painting has not failed. Even though many times I have done my own thing and have deliberately ignored Him, He has faithfully held to my side. With gentleness, patience, and love He has led me from the darkness of night into His wonderful light. I have stumbled and fallen many times since and I have at times again found myself in the clutches of hopelessness and defeat, but that promise always shines through and somehow He finds a way to bring me back to the light. From the end of a lonely and dark street to a pathway leading into an eternal relationship with Him, God gave me back my tomorrow.
Shattered Heart
Part 2 - Shattered Heart - 2009-04-13
Part 1 - Preface - 2009-04-13
Part 2 - Shattered Heart - 2009-04-13
Shattered Heart
Part 2 - Shattered Heart
The sound of her heart shattering is burned into my memory forever. Gentle, sensitive, and fragile, it now lay in a thousand pieces on the floor, it's crystal shards scattered in all directions. She stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Indifferent to what he had just done, and without emotion, her teenage son turned from her and walked away.
"Bobby, please. Don't do this," she pleaded, her eyes brimming with pain.
There was no action to acknowledge that he heard her and He made no move to look back. Picking up his daypack he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him. In a voice riddled with anguish and grief she called after him, "Bobby, I love you." Her voice trailed off into a whisper as her words disappeared into the mists of eternity; whisked away on the wings of silence and hushed by ears unwilling to hear. Silently, again, "I love you."
Caught in the jaws of unutterable agony and despair she stood unmoving, her eyes riveted on the door. Time slipped away into endlessness; endlessness faded into eternity; eternity disappeared into the boundless reaches of infinity. Finally, unable to remain on her feet, she sank to her knees in the midst of the ruin that was once her heart. Stunned and drained of her spirit she knelt on the cold marble tiles, gazing in shocked silence upon her shattered world, her shoulders slumped in defeat. A stillness, deeper than the darkest night, enveloped her soul.
At long last she reached out her trembling hand and picked up a fragment of broken crystal. Still in a state of shock she placed it in her left palm and slowly reached out for another piece. Caught in the fog of bewilderment and perplexity she was not grasping the futility of her efforts. She knew only that somehow she must pick up the pieces and put them back together. One by one, and with great effort, she attempted to gather up the bits of her heart scattered around her. Soon, however, her frustration began to mount as she realized that this method would not yield the desired results. Reaching out and placing her hand on the floor she tried to sweep several pieces together into a pile. Placing her other hand on the floor she endeavored to collect the small amount that she had accumulated into her palm. Some of the pieces that she had already gathered fell back onto the tiles. Crying out in frustration and pain she tried to restart her task.
Tears welled up in my eyes as her plight tore at my own heart. Quietly I called out to her.
"Sherry."
She continued her impossible task as though deaf to my voice. Speaking a little louder but still in soft tones I called to her again.
"Sherry Doll."
Stopping what she was doing she turned in my direction and looked into my eyes. In a voice overflowing with unspeakable anguish she cried, "Baby, it hurts! It hurts so bad!"
Her pain and despair suddenly erupted in an overwhelming torrent of tears. Trembling with agony she folded her arms across her stomach and doubled over, stricken with grief. There were no words for the moment. With nothing to say I knelt down beside her in the midst of the debris. Taking her up into my arms I pulled her close to myself. Clutching tightly to the few remaining pieces of crystal heart in her left hand she wept uncontrollably as her anguish continued to tear her soul to shreds.
"How could he treat me like this," she cried? "What did I do to deserve this? I have loved him and cared for him. I have given him everything he has needed, but now he rejects me."
Barely able to speak, her tortured emotions continued to pour forth in a flood that seemed to have no end. In silence I held her tight and stroked her hair. My mind whirled as I searched for words to calm her aching spirit. Thoughts raced around and around in my head but failed to yield anything acceptable. I feared that anything I might say would sound hollow. Any words I might be able to conjure would only seem empty and useless against the pain that she was suffering.
Then I remembered an old friend of mine who worked in crystal. I had not seen him in some time even though his shop was only a short distance away. All too often our time is consumed by the cares of life and we forget those things that are most important. There are times when friendships fade away because we fail to take the time to cultivate them. My spirit was stung by shame and guilt for not doing my part to keep such a valuable relationship alive. But I knew that he was our only hope for bringing things back together. I was not sure what he could do but we didn't have any other choice.
Gently coaxing her to her feet, I guided her out of the disaster area.
"My heart... it hurts," she cried. "It hurts so bad." Her face was wet and stained from the torrents of pain and hurt that cascaded down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen by the fountain of agony that continued to burst forth from deep inside her soul. Making her comfortable on the couch for a moment I finally spoke.
"I know someone who may be able to help. Give me a moment and I will be right back for you."
"Don't leave me," she sobbed. "Please don't go." Her pleading words wrenched at my heart as I tried to comfort her as best I could.
"Honey, I'll be right back. You have to trust me. You stay here and rest for a moment. I'm going to the closet and then I'll be right over there," I said, motioning toward the area of broken crystal.
Removing the broom and dustpan from the closet I set about collecting the scattered pieces of crystal from the tile floor. It was not a pretty scene. It was a mess for sure. There seemed to be more dirt and foreign material than what there was of crystal. Sweeping everything together into a pile just felt so wrong but I didn't know how else to go about it. How do you help someone pick up the fragments of their broken heart? It seemed to take forever but eventually the task was completed. Placing the debris in a bag I returned to the other room.
I knelt down beside her as she continued to weep. "Sherry," I said quietly. "Can you get up?"
"I don't know," she replied. "It just hurts so bad."
"I know," I said. "But please try. There's someone we need to go see."
For a moment she didn't move. Quietly I coaxed her, "Let's go, baby."
Struggling against her weariness she slowly sat up and, with great effort, got to her feet. Seemingly drained of her vitality she moved slowly and painfully, her feeble legs barely able to sustain her.
Finally, after getting us both bundled in heavy coats against the elements I opened the door and we stepped out into the cold night air. Snow had begun to fall and a biting wind almost took her breath away. I felt the frozen air penetrate to my skin and I knew it was much worse for her. Pulling her close to me I gave her as much support as possible as we began the walk towards my friends shop. Snow swirled around us as we trudged across the frozen landscape and down the street that ran through town. Shivering against the cold and ice I could feel her getting weaker and weaker with each step.
As we struggled down the sidewalk I felt her legs beginning to buckle under her. "We're almost there," I said. "Try to keep moving, baby. It's just a few paces away." I struggled to help her keep her balance but unable to generate enough energy to continue the journey her body collapsed onto the snow-covered pavement. Kneeling in the snow beside her I gently picked her up. Wrapping her arms around my neck she laid her head on my shoulder. I could feel her shivering against the bitter night air.
"I'm sorry," she whispered through her sobs. "I'm sorry I'm being such a burden."
"It's ok, honey. I'm here to help you. It's just a little ways now."
Toiling against the strain of the extra weight I slowly struggled to my feet and staggered toward the door and the warm inviting glow of light.
Turning to one side I pushed my shoulder against the door while trying to turn the knob only to find, to my dismay, that it was locked. Turning back towards it again I kicked at the base of the door with my foot and shouted, "Michael!"
Quietly I sent up a prayer. "Please let him be here. Please!"
Kicking at the base of the door again to make as much noise as possible I tried to shout louder, "Michael!! Are you in there?" The bundle of hurt and pain that I was carrying was getting heavier by the second.
"Michael," I shouted again, "I need your help! Please open the door!"
I grew more and more weary with each attempt to rouse him. My arms ached and my chest constricted as I tried to breathe against the cold biting wind. Finally, exhausted, I leaned my back against the door.
"Now what," I thought to myself. "I have no where else to go. There's no one else that can help me." Discouraged, tired, and out of strength I felt her beginning to slip from my arms. Suddenly I heard the lock click open. Pushing myself away from the door I turned around.
Opening the door he quickly sized up the situation. "Come in, come in," he said, moving to one side. "Put her on the sofa in the back corner in front of the fireplace."
Barely able to hold her I fought against the stabbing pain in my arms as I proceeded to the back of the shop. The warmth of the fire was a welcome change to the penetrating cold and ice. Gently I placed her on the sofa and knelt down on the floor next to her. Loosening the hood on her coat I pulled it back from her head. Brushing the hair from her eyes I said quietly, "You made it, baby. We're here."
A new surge of tears erupted as her emotional battle continued. "I just can't deal with this pain. It hurts too much."
Gently touching her face I wiped away what tears I could. What do you say when someone you love is in so much pain? How can words even come close to the comfort and healing that their soul requires?
Michael slowly approached the sofa and waited for me to acknowledge him. In his mid 30s he was tall with long wavy hair, a well-trimmed beard, and brown eyes. He carried himself in a dignified and authoritative manner and yet he was the humblest and most selfless man I had ever known. He was strong and self-reliant yet he exhibited an atmosphere of tenderness and compassion. His caring spirit was evident in the ways he interacted with those who were bowed down from a life of toil and hardship. A kind word and a loving smile brought peace and comfort to many who were burdened with the harsh realities of life. No one who was in need escaped his notice.
"Stay here and rest, honey," I said as I got up from my knees. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go talk with Michael for a minute."
Bending over I pushed back her hair from her forehead and gave her a soft kiss. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze I turned and stepped around the corner into Michael's office.
"What happened," he asked quietly?
"It's her son," I replied. "He has turned his back on all that she has tried to teach him and has chosen a path completely contrary to God. Tonight he displayed his disdain and hatred for her, for God, and for all that is good and upright."
Reaching into my pocket I removed the bag that contained the remains of her crystal heart and laid it on his desk.
"Michael, I have never seen such a show of animosity as I saw tonight. I could not believe my eyes as I watched him snatch her heart away from her. In an instant before I could hardly move he slammed it to the floor with such force that it actually cracked one of the tiles. At that point he turned away from her and walked out. The crystal heart... there's hardly anything left of it. I didn't know where else to go but to come see you. My heart aches for her, Michael. She's hurting so badly. She's hurting so badly."
The tears that I had been holding in all evening suddenly came pouring out as I broke down and wept. Slumping into the nearest chair I put my face in my hands and cried. Up to this point I had been strong, but suddenly I felt completely helpless. Stooping down beside me, Michael put his arm around my shoulders. He didn't say a word but I could feel his strength and his gentleness.
After a brief moment he got up and stepped over to the desk. Picking up the bag of fragments I had placed there he studied it for a brief period and then set it back down.
"Come with me," he said.
Getting up I wiped my eyes and followed him out of his office into the shop. We traversed almost the whole length of the north wall which was filled from front to back and from floor to ceiling with hearts of every shape, size, color, and description. Stopping in front of one display case he opened it up and removed a plain box from inside. It was made of pinewood and portrayed a simple cross, carved into its top. Closing the case he pointed to the multitude of hearts that lined the wall.
"People will pay exorbitant prices for these items. They are beautiful, some of them almost beyond description. But many do not realize how trivial and transitory they are. Inside this display case, however, are my specialty items. These are the hearts that I have handcrafted personally. They are my trademark. I purchase the materials from my father who has access to all the resources I need from Eden's River. Anyone can view these items if they so choose but too many are captivated by these that line this wall. Time after time my invitation to show them to the potential buyer has gone unnoticed and on some occasions has been met with contempt. 'Those are just plain boxes,' they will say. Then pointing to one of the items on the shelf they will exclaim, 'that is the most beautiful heart I have ever seen. That is the one I desire to buy today.'"
"Why do you keep them somewhat hidden and out of sight," I asked? "Wouldn't you get more interest if the boxes where open and they were displayed where all could see them?"
"Let me ask you a question," he responded. Raising the box in his hand he pointed to it and asked, "Who will appreciate it more? The one who buys it off the shelf just like everyone else; the one who is in a hurry and just wants to get something and get out of the shop; the one who just wants another cool item to place on their mantle? Or is it the one who takes the time to look at all the options; the one who is willing to dig for that illusive beauty; the one who realizes that they have found a treasure that very few people see; the one who has a special place picked out for the most special of items; the one who realizes that you can't judge a book by its cover? Exquisite beauty may be wrapped in a plain package but does that mean it's a plain item? No, my friend. The true seeker will not pay attention to the cover but will look inside before ascertaining the value of the contents. These are the ones who are searching for true beauty. These are the ones who are seeking for value as for a hidden treasure and not just looking for another item to grab off the shelf. These are the ones with whom I am pleased to do business."
"Unfortunately," he continued, "when Sherry came in here quite a few years ago she was in a hurry like most everyone else that comes through here. She did not want to take the time and see what else I might have. I knew she was seeking for the best, but sometimes people fail to have the patience required for such a search. Even though the heart she purchased was beautiful and intricate in craftsmanship it was extremely fragile. It was also subject to being easily scratched and would become dull and clouded. It was a very common fake crystal. She does, however, have a sincere desire to obtain the most valuable workmanship she can get. She is receptive to truth but, unfortunately, her impatience has gotten in her way."
Pausing for a moment he looked into my eyes. "You did right by bringing her here. This incident has created a rare opportunity that most people never get. It has made her more open and receptive to finding her treasure. Repairing her crystal heart is out of the question. However, I can replace it."
We made our way back down the isle and crossed the back of his shop to the sofa where Sherry lay. Her weeping had subsided and she no longer shivered from the cold. The box he had taken from the display case he set on a nearby stand. Kneeling down on the floor next to her he took her hand in his as he leaned over her. With a voice soft and full of compassion he spoke her name.
"Sherry." Slowly opening her eyes she looked up at him. There was a long pause as she studied his face. A slight frown furrowed her brow as a look of puzzlement spread across her countenance.
"You look familiar," she whispered. "I think I've seen you before, although I'm not sure where or when."
"Yes, you have," he replied.
"And you know who I am," she asked?
"I do. But we can talk about that in a few minutes. How are you doing?"
There was a long pause as he waited for her to answer. If anyone could wait it was Michael. His patience knew no limits.
Finally she spoke as tears began to well up in her eyes again. "It hurts. It hurts so much," she said. Turning her head away she squeezed her eyes shut as though trying to lock out the pain. "How can I go on? The pain is too great. My son hates me," she cried. A new wave of despair crashed over her grief-stricken soul, engulfing her in its suffocating blackness. "My son hates me!" Her cry shattered the silence of the quiet little shop and pierced through the stillness of the night. It arose from a void deeper than the deepest ocean. It was an anguish which no pen can describe and no words can utter, an anguish born of a mothers loss that is worse than death itself. Unable to control herself any longer, her raging emotions erupted in a torrent of tears and heart-rending agony.
She gripped Michael's hand as though she were afraid of being torn away, her body quaking like a leaf against a violent and relentless storm. I watched in utter helplessness as her tormented soul battled for the supremacy against an unseen enemy. And then, hushed and serene, the words of a familiar hymn filled the night...
"Far away in the depths of my spirit tonight,
Rolls a melody sweeter than psalm.
In celestial-like strains it unceasingly falls
O'er my soul like an infinite calm."
Michael's voice was soft and mild as the quiet tones of the song filled the shop, its gentle melody engulfing us in the mist of peace. Little by little Sherry's torment began to abate as fear gave way to the subdued sounds of tender compassion and untiring mercy.
"Peace! Peace! Wonderful peace,
Coming down from the Father above;
Sweep over my spirit forever, I pray,
In fathomless billows of love!"
As the refrain faded into the night she opened her swollen tear stained eyes and looked at Michael who was still holding tightly to her hand.
"I wish I could sing like that," she whispered after a long pause.
Michael reached out and touched her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
"Someday you will," he replied, smiling warmly.
"But I don't feel like I ever will," she said. "I just feel like dying."
"I know you do," Michael responded sympathetically. "I know what you are feeling and I know how tempting it is to just give up. But you must keep going. Bobby needs you. He needs to see that you love him and that you care for him. You must keep your hand outstretched to him. Some day you may be the only connection that he has in his struggle to return to a normal life. If he ever turns his life around he will need you to be there to love him and help him. Forgive him for what he has done and then open your arms to him and wait. Be careful not to push him. Don't rush him, don't lose your temper, don't get frustrated with him. Just be patient and wait."
There was a moment of silence as she studied his face. Feelings of incompetence and worthlessness washed over her and threatened to bury her beneath their black icy depths.
Finally she spoke. "I don't think he'll ever listen to me. I think he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you, Sherry. He's just very confused and lost right now. He has no idea what love is and he's struggling to find out. You are his mother and he needs to know that you are there no matter what he does or where he goes. You must pray for him and wait for the opportunities to support him and guide him. Coming back is his choice but you can show him by your love that there is a better life than the one he has chosen. Be strong and have patience."
He paused for a brief moment before continuing.
"About your broken heart... Unfortunately," he began and then he paused, searching for the right words. Unable to find any other way of saying it he continued. "Unfortunately, it is irreparable."
Her brow furrowed and a look of consternation came over her countenance as she searched his face for some form of hope.
"What do you mean, irreparable," she asked slowly, her voice filled with anxiety and fear. Still somewhat in shock she lacked the ability to comprehend just how total the destruction had been and how impossible it would be to take on such a task even for a master craftsman as skilled as Michael.
"I'm afraid that it is a total loss," he said.
"What am I supposed to do," she moaned? "Can't you at least try?"
"I'm sorry," he replied compassionately. "There really isn't anything I can do with it."
Slowly he stood to his feet.
"Do you feel strong enough to sit up," he asked?
She nodded her head yes and he gently helped her into an upright position.
"What am I going to do," she asked? Tears spilled out of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
Stepping over to the stand where he had set the box, Michael picked it up. Returning to the sofa he sat down beside her.
"It's been a while since I've seen you," he said.
Turning her head she looked at him with a question in her eyes. After studying him for a moment she glanced around at her surroundings.
"Now I think I remember," she said, turning back to him. "I got my crystal heart from here."
Michael nodded slowly.
"Yes, and you were in a real hurry that day," he replied.
"I'm in a hurry every day," she said.
"Sherry," he said and then he paused before continuing. "The best things in life cannot be rushed. When it comes to the heart, slow down and take some time to consider all your options. You will find that other doors will open to you that you did not expect. Let time be your guide and companion, not your enemy.
"This small box contains another heart that I wanted to show you a long time ago. Sherry, most people that do not take the occasion to see what this box contains, not only miss finding a valuable treasure, but they also miss an opportunity that may never present itself again. But you have been given a second chance, a second opportunity, something that a majority of people will never get. Most people that leave here I will never see again. Their opportunity has passed. I cannot chase after them, I cannot force them, I cannot coerce them. I can only wait for moments like this. I can only wait and hope for more second chances."
Sherry looked at the box with a puzzled expression on her face.
"It's just a plain wooden box," she said, with a slight tone of sarcasm.
"But it contains a treasure that is beyond value and beyond price," he responded.
"Excuse me," she retorted? "It's priceless and you want me to buy it from you?" She looked at me with a frown on her face as though to say, You want me to trust this guy? Then turning back to Michael she continued, "First off, how could I even think or hope to pay you for something that is so expense you can't even put a price to it? And second..." She paused, not sure if she should continue or not.
Michael broke the silence. "You were saying?" He knew full well what was on her mind and where she was going with this little rant but he also knew that he could help her most if she voiced her thoughts.
"Well, look at it! There's nothing there. It's plain and unappealing. If you're going to sell something as great and wonderful as you say is contained within that box then maybe you should think about redesigning it to match the item."
There was a tinge of contempt in her voice as she vented her thoughts. She was in a lot of pain and, understandably, she was trying to find any outlet that she could. But Michael was patient and caring and would not let it affect him in any way. Looking into her eyes he gently and lovingly reprimanded her unbelief. "Your eyes deceive you, Sherry. Never judge an item by its external form. The outside of this box is not what matters. It is only a container. What is found on the inside; that is what counts. True beauty is not readily apparent to the human eye. Too many are deceived by the power of judgment according to sight. Quick to reject what they do not understand and slow to accept what does not please their eye, they end up turning away from and losing the most wonderful treasures of life."
He waited for a moment as if letting the words sink into her mind. She squirmed a little from discomfort as she realized that what he was saying was true. Still clinging consciously to her crystal heart which now lay in pieces on Michael's desk she struggled with believing that there could be anything more beautiful than what she had just lost. Hardly able to see past her pain of losing one of the most precious things in her life she battled with her own thoughts as she tried to understand.
"I'm sorry," she said in a subdued tone. "You are right and I should not have lashed out at you like that."
"It's ok," he replied. "I understand what you are dealing with. To answer your first question, you don't need to buy it. What would you say if I gave it to you, right now, with no expense on your part?"
"I'd at least have a box to put something in," she responded, as the corners of her lips turned up slightly.
"Did I detect a little bit of a joke," he asked as he smiled back at her? "That's good. You are a strong and resilient woman."
"Truthfully," she continued, "I'd think that it wasn't worth much if you're just wanting to give it away."
"On the contrary," he replied. "It's worth so much that I have to give it away."
She glanced in my direction with a complete look of confusion on her face.
Michael continued, "This item can only be found right here in this shop and no where else. The material comes from Eden's River but I handcraft it here with no outside influence or assistance. It is my own design and no one else has the skill or the ability to accomplish this kind of craftsmanship."
"I think I'll change my response to your question," she said with a touch of humor in her voice. "I'd say you were absolutely nuts."
Michael chuckled with amusement as Sherry giggled at her own comedy. It made me feel a little better to see that she could have at least a little fun even in the midst of such pain.
"You're telling me that what is inside that plain wooden box is priceless and that you want to give it to me right now with no return on my part?"
"I said without expense on your part. There is one thing you can do."
"I don't even know what's in the box yet," she stated.
"Ok, two things," he responded.
"And what's that," she asked?
"First you need to trust me."
She offered no response but sat in silence, lost in the tangle of her own thoughts. Michael waited, patient as ever.
"And number two," she finally asked?
"When you leave here tonight you leave the fragments of your old crystal heart with me. That's all I ask in return."
She winced as she tried to weigh the implications of giving up her old heart. Her thoughts seemed confused and twisted as she tried to sort them out. To the outside observer the choice might have seemed easy but to someone caught in the midnight of an emotional darkness, the path ahead was gloomy and uncertain. She felt as though she had no light to guide her. Her crystal heart meant everything to her and all she wanted was to have it back in one piece.
Sighing heavily she finally spoke, "You can have my old heart. It's apparently no good to me now anyway. But this new item you're giving me better be at least as good as the old one."
"You have my word," he said as he handed her the box.
Holding it quietly for a moment she turned to look at me. Trepidation filled her eyes as she considered the implications of being disappointed. Turning back to the box she slowly tilted the lid back on its hinges. She stared in disbelief, unable to take her eyes from the object before her.
I moved around behind the sofa so I could get a better view and what met my gaze was truly beyond description. Nestled within the black velvet interior of this plain wooden box was the most beautiful blue sapphire gemstone I had ever seen. It measured out to about the size of the palm of my hand and was cut into the shape of a heart. A triple band of gold, embedded into its outer edge, spanned its entire circumference. The front of the gem was cut and polished to a perfectly flat surface and was bounded by an array of small and intricate facets which glittered richly even in the soft light of the shop. From within its interior emanated a soft warm light, creating a quiet ambience that faded into the deep velvet blue of the outer edges. The facets decorating the back of the gem picked up the soft light and reflected it back in rich varied hues of blue. The effect was one of looking through a doorway into another world, into another universe.
But this was not all. As beautiful as this sapphire was, it was made even more so by the words inscribed into its interior. On either side of the source of light within the heart of the sapphire were etched two promises in gold lettering. Each text was slanted in such a way so as to catch the light radiating from the center of the gem.
On the left were these words: "He healeth the broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds."
On the right were these words: "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."
Sherry looked up at Michael, tears trickling down her face. She opened her mouth to speak but, unable to find the words, she just sat and stared at him.
Finally she spoke. "What can I say," she asked, her voice breaking with emotion? "I just don't have any words. How can I ever repay you?"
Reaching out his hand he gently wiped away a tear from her cheek. "It's payment enough to know that I have helped to bring you some healing. I am not in the business of taking what I can from people. I am in the business of bringing happiness and joy to those who are broken and hurting. That is my greatest reward. There is nothing in the whole universe that I desire more than this."
Silence fell for a moment as Sherry's tears flowed freely, more from a sense of relief and comfort than from pain. The knowledge of a new friend who did not judge her but was willing to do anything in the world to help her heal, brought strength and hope in the midst of her overwhelming pain and suffering. She was not alone in this struggle.
Moving around the couch I sat down beside her opposite from Michael and put my arm around her. Quietly she laid her head on my shoulder as she continued to admire her new sapphire heart.
"I will be right back," Michael said as he stood to his feet and disappeared into his office. He returned a few moments later with a cardboard box which he handed to Sherry.
"This is a special lamp which you must use to keep the internal light charged within the sapphire. I recommend at least a half hour every day. Once a week bring the sapphire here to my shop and I will polish it and give it an extra charge which it needs in order to maintain its glow."
"Thank you, Michael," she said quietly. Struggling to her feet she gave him a hug as tears again trickled down her cheeks.
"It's my pleasure," he replied returning her hug.
"It seems all I can do tonight is shed tears," she said wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "I'm like an endless fountain of water."
"That's alright, Sherry. Crying is a release for internal pain and helps to cleanse the soul. You are dealing with an extremely heavy load. Don't be ashamed to let it out when you need to. Open up to your friend. Talking through your thoughts and emotions will also help you deal with it better. But most importantly open your soul to the Father. He will help to guide you through this."
"Michael," I said, "Thank you so much for your help. I am glad that you were here tonight. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been."
"All things work together for good to them that love God," he responded, shaking my hand. He smiled warmly. "Both of you have a good night. I will pray that the Father brings comfort and healing to her heart."
Stepping out into the cold night we began the trek back home. The snow and the wind had both subsided and the sky had cleared considerably, revealing a beautiful array of stars dancing across the backdrop of endless space. Sherry stopped and pulled the sapphire box from her coat pocket were she had placed it. As she opened the lid a flood of light spilled out into the darkness. Suddenly the night didn't seem so cold. The light seemed to add warmth to the night air around us. In silence she stared at the glowing sapphire unable to find any words to express her thoughts. A few flakes of frost drifted through the aura of blue hues that surrounded us looking like very small diamonds as they glistened and glittered in the warm quiet light.
Closing the lid she returned it to her coat pocket for safekeeping. Reaching out I took her hand and we pushed our way through the snow toward home. The pain was still there in her soul but she had received new strength and courage for the days ahead and for the battles that awaited her.
Indifferent to what he had just done, and without emotion, her teenage son turned from her and walked away.
"Bobby, please. Don't do this," she pleaded, her eyes brimming with pain.
There was no action to acknowledge that he heard her and He made no move to look back. Picking up his daypack he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him. In a voice riddled with anguish and grief she called after him, "Bobby, I love you." Her voice trailed off into a whisper as her words disappeared into the mists of eternity; whisked away on the wings of silence and hushed by ears unwilling to hear. Silently, again, "I love you."
Caught in the jaws of unutterable agony and despair she stood unmoving, her eyes riveted on the door. Time slipped away into endlessness; endlessness faded into eternity; eternity disappeared into the boundless reaches of infinity. Finally, unable to remain on her feet, she sank to her knees in the midst of the ruin that was once her heart. Stunned and drained of her spirit she knelt on the cold marble tiles, gazing in shocked silence upon her shattered world, her shoulders slumped in defeat. A stillness, deeper than the darkest night, enveloped her soul.
At long last she reached out her trembling hand and picked up a fragment of broken crystal. Still in a state of shock she placed it in her left palm and slowly reached out for another piece. Caught in the fog of bewilderment and perplexity she was not grasping the futility of her efforts. She knew only that somehow she must pick up the pieces and put them back together. One by one, and with great effort, she attempted to gather up the bits of her heart scattered around her. Soon, however, her frustration began to mount as she realized that this method would not yield the desired results. Reaching out and placing her hand on the floor she tried to sweep several pieces together into a pile. Placing her other hand on the floor she endeavored to collect the small amount that she had accumulated into her palm. Some of the pieces that she had already gathered fell back onto the tiles. Crying out in frustration and pain she tried to restart her task.
Tears welled up in my eyes as her plight tore at my own heart. Quietly I called out to her.
"Sherry."
She continued her impossible task as though deaf to my voice. Speaking a little louder but still in soft tones I called to her again.
"Sherry Doll."
Stopping what she was doing she turned in my direction and looked into my eyes. In a voice overflowing with unspeakable anguish she cried, "Baby, it hurts! It hurts so bad!"
Her pain and despair suddenly erupted in an overwhelming torrent of tears. Trembling with agony she folded her arms across her stomach and doubled over, stricken with grief. There were no words for the moment. With nothing to say I knelt down beside her in the midst of the debris. Taking her up into my arms I pulled her close to myself. Clutching tightly to the few remaining pieces of crystal heart in her left hand she wept uncontrollably as her anguish continued to tear her soul to shreds.
"How could he treat me like this," she cried? "What did I do to deserve this? I have loved him and cared for him. I have given him everything he has needed, but now he rejects me."
Barely able to speak, her tortured emotions continued to pour forth in a flood that seemed to have no end. In silence I held her tight and stroked her hair. My mind whirled as I searched for words to calm her aching spirit. Thoughts raced around and around in my head but failed to yield anything acceptable. I feared that anything I might say would sound hollow. Any words I might be able to conjure would only seem empty and useless against the pain that she was suffering.
Then I remembered an old friend of mine who worked in crystal. I had not seen him in some time even though his shop was only a short distance away. All too often our time is consumed by the cares of life and we forget those things that are most important. There are times when friendships fade away because we fail to take the time to cultivate them. My spirit was stung by shame and guilt for not doing my part to keep such a valuable relationship alive. But I knew that he was our only hope for bringing things back together. I was not sure what he could do but we didn't have any other choice.
Gently coaxing her to her feet, I guided her out of the disaster area.
"My heart... it hurts," she cried. "It hurts so bad." Her face was wet and stained from the torrents of pain and hurt that cascaded down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen by the fountain of agony that continued to burst forth from deep inside her soul. Making her comfortable on the couch for a moment I finally spoke.
"I know someone who may be able to help. Give me a moment and I will be right back for you."
"Don't leave me," she sobbed. "Please don't go." Her pleading words wrenched at my heart as I tried to comfort her as best I could.
"Honey, I'll be right back. You have to trust me. You stay here and rest for a moment. I'm going to the closet and then I'll be right over there," I said, motioning toward the area of broken crystal.
Removing the broom and dustpan from the closet I set about collecting the scattered pieces of crystal from the tile floor. It was not a pretty scene. It was a mess for sure. There seemed to be more dirt and foreign material than what there was of crystal. Sweeping everything together into a pile just felt so wrong but I didn't know how else to go about it. How do you help someone pick up the fragments of their broken heart? It seemed to take forever but eventually the task was completed. Placing the debris in a bag I returned to the other room.
I knelt down beside her as she continued to weep. "Sherry," I said quietly. "Can you get up?"
"I don't know," she replied. "It just hurts so bad."
"I know," I said. "But please try. There's someone we need to go see."
For a moment she didn't move. Quietly I coaxed her, "Let's go, baby."
Struggling against her weariness she slowly sat up and, with great effort, got to her feet. Seemingly drained of her vitality she moved slowly and painfully, her feeble legs barely able to sustain her.
Finally, after getting us both bundled in heavy coats against the elements I opened the door and we stepped out into the cold night air. Snow had begun to fall and a biting wind almost took her breath away. I felt the frozen air penetrate to my skin and I knew it was much worse for her. Pulling her close to me I gave her as much support as possible as we began the walk towards my friends shop. Snow swirled around us as we trudged across the frozen landscape and down the street that ran through town. Shivering against the cold and ice I could feel her getting weaker and weaker with each step.
As we struggled down the sidewalk I felt her legs beginning to buckle under her. "We're almost there," I said. "Try to keep moving, baby. It's just a few paces away." I struggled to help her keep her balance but unable to generate enough energy to continue the journey her body collapsed onto the snow-covered pavement. Kneeling in the snow beside her I gently picked her up. Wrapping her arms around my neck she laid her head on my shoulder. I could feel her shivering against the bitter night air.
"I'm sorry," she whispered through her sobs. "I'm sorry I'm being such a burden."
"It's ok, honey. I'm here to help you. It's just a little ways now."
Toiling against the strain of the extra weight I slowly struggled to my feet and staggered toward the door and the warm inviting glow of light.
Turning to one side I pushed my shoulder against the door while trying to turn the knob only to find, to my dismay, that it was locked. Turning back towards it again I kicked at the base of the door with my foot and shouted, "Michael!"
Quietly I sent up a prayer. "Please let him be here. Please!"
Kicking at the base of the door again to make as much noise as possible I tried to shout louder, "Michael!! Are you in there?" The bundle of hurt and pain that I was carrying was getting heavier by the second.
"Michael," I shouted again, "I need your help! Please open the door!"
I grew more and more weary with each attempt to rouse him. My arms ached and my chest constricted as I tried to breathe against the cold biting wind. Finally, exhausted, I leaned my back against the door.
"Now what," I thought to myself. "I have no where else to go. There's no one else that can help me." Discouraged, tired, and out of strength I felt her beginning to slip from my arms. Suddenly I heard the lock click open. Pushing myself away from the door I turned around.
Opening the door he quickly sized up the situation. "Come in, come in," he said, moving to one side. "Put her on the sofa in the back corner in front of the fireplace."
Barely able to hold her I fought against the stabbing pain in my arms as I proceeded to the back of the shop. The warmth of the fire was a welcome change to the penetrating cold and ice. Gently I placed her on the sofa and knelt down on the floor next to her. Loosening the hood on her coat I pulled it back from her head. Brushing the hair from her eyes I said quietly, "You made it, baby. We're here."
A new surge of tears erupted as her emotional battle continued. "I just can't deal with this pain. It hurts too much."
Gently touching her face I wiped away what tears I could. What do you say when someone you love is in so much pain? How can words even come close to the comfort and healing that their soul requires?
Michael slowly approached the sofa and waited for me to acknowledge him. In his mid 30s he was tall with long wavy hair, a well-trimmed beard, and brown eyes. He carried himself in a dignified and authoritative manner and yet he was the humblest and most selfless man I had ever known. He was strong and self-reliant yet he exhibited an atmosphere of tenderness and compassion. His caring spirit was evident in the ways he interacted with those who were bowed down from a life of toil and hardship. A kind word and a loving smile brought peace and comfort to many who were burdened with the harsh realities of life. No one who was in need escaped his notice.
"Stay here and rest, honey," I said as I got up from my knees. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go talk with Michael for a minute."
Bending over I pushed back her hair from her forehead and gave her a soft kiss. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze I turned and stepped around the corner into Michael's office.
"What happened," he asked quietly?
"It's her son," I replied. "He has turned his back on all that she has tried to teach him and has chosen a path completely contrary to God. Tonight he displayed his disdain and hatred for her, for God, and for all that is good and upright."
Reaching into my pocket I removed the bag that contained the remains of her crystal heart and laid it on his desk.
"Michael, I have never seen such a show of animosity as I saw tonight. I could not believe my eyes as I watched him snatch her heart away from her. In an instant before I could hardly move he slammed it to the floor with such force that it actually cracked one of the tiles. At that point he turned away from her and walked out. The crystal heart... there's hardly anything left of it. I didn't know where else to go but to come see you. My heart aches for her, Michael. She's hurting so badly. She's hurting so badly."
The tears that I had been holding in all evening suddenly came pouring out as I broke down and wept. Slumping into the nearest chair I put my face in my hands and cried. Up to this point I had been strong, but suddenly I felt completely helpless. Stooping down beside me, Michael put his arm around my shoulders. He didn't say a word but I could feel his strength and his gentleness.
After a brief moment he got up and stepped over to the desk. Picking up the bag of fragments I had placed there he studied it for a brief period and then set it back down.
"Come with me," he said.
Getting up I wiped my eyes and followed him out of his office into the shop. We traversed almost the whole length of the north wall which was filled from front to back and from floor to ceiling with hearts of every shape, size, color, and description. Stopping in front of one display case he opened it up and removed a plain box from inside. It was made of pinewood and portrayed a simple cross, carved into its top. Closing the case he pointed to the multitude of hearts that lined the wall.
"People will pay exorbitant prices for these items. They are beautiful, some of them almost beyond description. But many do not realize how trivial and transitory they are. Inside this display case, however, are my specialty items. These are the hearts that I have handcrafted personally. They are my trademark. I purchase the materials from my father who has access to all the resources I need from Eden's River. Anyone can view these items if they so choose but too many are captivated by these that line this wall. Time after time my invitation to show them to the potential buyer has gone unnoticed and on some occasions has been met with contempt. 'Those are just plain boxes,' they will say. Then pointing to one of the items on the shelf they will exclaim, 'that is the most beautiful heart I have ever seen. That is the one I desire to buy today.'"
"Why do you keep them somewhat hidden and out of sight," I asked? "Wouldn't you get more interest if the boxes where open and they were displayed where all could see them?"
"Let me ask you a question," he responded. Raising the box in his hand he pointed to it and asked, "Who will appreciate it more? The one who buys it off the shelf just like everyone else; the one who is in a hurry and just wants to get something and get out of the shop; the one who just wants another cool item to place on their mantle? Or is it the one who takes the time to look at all the options; the one who is willing to dig for that illusive beauty; the one who realizes that they have found a treasure that very few people see; the one who has a special place picked out for the most special of items; the one who realizes that you can't judge a book by its cover? Exquisite beauty may be wrapped in a plain package but does that mean it's a plain item? No, my friend. The true seeker will not pay attention to the cover but will look inside before ascertaining the value of the contents. These are the ones who are searching for true beauty. These are the ones who are seeking for value as for a hidden treasure and not just looking for another item to grab off the shelf. These are the ones with whom I am pleased to do business."
"Unfortunately," he continued, "when Sherry came in here quite a few years ago she was in a hurry like most everyone else that comes through here. She did not want to take the time and see what else I might have. I knew she was seeking for the best, but sometimes people fail to have the patience required for such a search. Even though the heart she purchased was beautiful and intricate in craftsmanship it was extremely fragile. It was also subject to being easily scratched and would become dull and clouded. It was a very common fake crystal. She does, however, have a sincere desire to obtain the most valuable workmanship she can get. She is receptive to truth but, unfortunately, her impatience has gotten in her way."
Pausing for a moment he looked into my eyes. "You did right by bringing her here. This incident has created a rare opportunity that most people never get. It has made her more open and receptive to finding her treasure. Repairing her crystal heart is out of the question. However, I can replace it."
We made our way back down the isle and crossed the back of his shop to the sofa where Sherry lay. Her weeping had subsided and she no longer shivered from the cold. The box he had taken from the display case he set on a nearby stand. Kneeling down on the floor next to her he took her hand in his as he leaned over her. With a voice soft and full of compassion he spoke her name.
"Sherry." Slowly opening her eyes she looked up at him. There was a long pause as she studied his face. A slight frown furrowed her brow as a look of puzzlement spread across her countenance.
"You look familiar," she whispered. "I think I've seen you before, although I'm not sure where or when."
"Yes, you have," he replied.
"And you know who I am," she asked?
"I do. But we can talk about that in a few minutes. How are you doing?"
There was a long pause as he waited for her to answer. If anyone could wait it was Michael. His patience knew no limits.
Finally she spoke as tears began to well up in her eyes again. "It hurts. It hurts so much," she said. Turning her head away she squeezed her eyes shut as though trying to lock out the pain. "How can I go on? The pain is too great. My son hates me," she cried. A new wave of despair crashed over her grief-stricken soul, engulfing her in its suffocating blackness. "My son hates me!" Her cry shattered the silence of the quiet little shop and pierced through the stillness of the night. It arose from a void deeper than the deepest ocean. It was an anguish which no pen can describe and no words can utter, an anguish born of a mothers loss that is worse than death itself. Unable to control herself any longer, her raging emotions erupted in a torrent of tears and heart-rending agony.
She gripped Michael's hand as though she were afraid of being torn away, her body quaking like a leaf against a violent and relentless storm. I watched in utter helplessness as her tormented soul battled for the supremacy against an unseen enemy. And then, hushed and serene, the words of a familiar hymn filled the night...
"Far away in the depths of my spirit tonight,
Rolls a melody sweeter than psalm.
In celestial-like strains it unceasingly falls
O'er my soul like an infinite calm."
Michael's voice was soft and mild as the quiet tones of the song filled the shop, its gentle melody engulfing us in the mist of peace. Little by little Sherry's torment began to abate as fear gave way to the subdued sounds of tender compassion and untiring mercy.
"Peace! Peace! Wonderful peace,
Coming down from the Father above;
Sweep over my spirit forever, I pray,
In fathomless billows of love!"
As the refrain faded into the night she opened her swollen tear stained eyes and looked at Michael who was still holding tightly to her hand.
"I wish I could sing like that," she whispered after a long pause.
Michael reached out and touched her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
"Someday you will," he replied, smiling warmly.
"But I don't feel like I ever will," she said. "I just feel like dying."
"I know you do," Michael responded sympathetically. "I know what you are feeling and I know how tempting it is to just give up. But you must keep going. Bobby needs you. He needs to see that you love him and that you care for him. You must keep your hand outstretched to him. Some day you may be the only connection that he has in his struggle to return to a normal life. If he ever turns his life around he will need you to be there to love him and help him. Forgive him for what he has done and then open your arms to him and wait. Be careful not to push him. Don't rush him, don't lose your temper, don't get frustrated with him. Just be patient and wait."
There was a moment of silence as she studied his face. Feelings of incompetence and worthlessness washed over her and threatened to bury her beneath their black icy depths.
Finally she spoke. "I don't think he'll ever listen to me. I think he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you, Sherry. He's just very confused and lost right now. He has no idea what love is and he's struggling to find out. You are his mother and he needs to know that you are there no matter what he does or where he goes. You must pray for him and wait for the opportunities to support him and guide him. Coming back is his choice but you can show him by your love that there is a better life than the one he has chosen. Be strong and have patience."
He paused for a brief moment before continuing.
"About your broken heart... Unfortunately," he began and then he paused, searching for the right words. Unable to find any other way of saying it he continued. "Unfortunately, it is irreparable."
Her brow furrowed and a look of consternation came over her countenance as she searched his face for some form of hope.
"What do you mean, irreparable," she asked slowly, her voice filled with anxiety and fear. Still somewhat in shock she lacked the ability to comprehend just how total the destruction had been and how impossible it would be to take on such a task even for a master craftsman as skilled as Michael.
"I'm afraid that it is a total loss," he said.
"What am I supposed to do," she moaned? "Can't you at least try?"
"I'm sorry," he replied compassionately. "There really isn't anything I can do with it."
Slowly he stood to his feet.
"Do you feel strong enough to sit up," he asked?
She nodded her head yes and he gently helped her into an upright position.
"What am I going to do," she asked? Tears spilled out of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
Stepping over to the stand where he had set the box, Michael picked it up. Returning to the sofa he sat down beside her.
"It's been a while since I've seen you," he said.
Turning her head she looked at him with a question in her eyes. After studying him for a moment she glanced around at her surroundings.
"Now I think I remember," she said, turning back to him. "I got my crystal heart from here."
Michael nodded slowly.
"Yes, and you were in a real hurry that day," he replied.
"I'm in a hurry every day," she said.
"Sherry," he said and then he paused before continuing. "The best things in life cannot be rushed. When it comes to the heart, slow down and take some time to consider all your options. You will find that other doors will open to you that you did not expect. Let time be your guide and companion, not your enemy.
"This small box contains another heart that I wanted to show you a long time ago. Sherry, most people that do not take the occasion to see what this box contains, not only miss finding a valuable treasure, but they also miss an opportunity that may never present itself again. But you have been given a second chance, a second opportunity, something that a majority of people will never get. Most people that leave here I will never see again. Their opportunity has passed. I cannot chase after them, I cannot force them, I cannot coerce them. I can only wait for moments like this. I can only wait and hope for more second chances."
Sherry looked at the box with a puzzled expression on her face.
"It's just a plain wooden box," she said, with a slight tone of sarcasm.
"But it contains a treasure that is beyond value and beyond price," he responded.
"Excuse me," she retorted? "It's priceless and you want me to buy it from you?" She looked at me with a frown on her face as though to say, You want me to trust this guy? Then turning back to Michael she continued, "First off, how could I even think or hope to pay you for something that is so expense you can't even put a price to it? And second..." She paused, not sure if she should continue or not.
Michael broke the silence. "You were saying?" He knew full well what was on her mind and where she was going with this little rant but he also knew that he could help her most if she voiced her thoughts.
"Well, look at it! There's nothing there. It's plain and unappealing. If you're going to sell something as great and wonderful as you say is contained within that box then maybe you should think about redesigning it to match the item."
There was a tinge of contempt in her voice as she vented her thoughts. She was in a lot of pain and, understandably, she was trying to find any outlet that she could. But Michael was patient and caring and would not let it affect him in any way. Looking into her eyes he gently and lovingly reprimanded her unbelief. "Your eyes deceive you, Sherry. Never judge an item by its external form. The outside of this box is not what matters. It is only a container. What is found on the inside; that is what counts. True beauty is not readily apparent to the human eye. Too many are deceived by the power of judgment according to sight. Quick to reject what they do not understand and slow to accept what does not please their eye, they end up turning away from and losing the most wonderful treasures of life."
He waited for a moment as if letting the words sink into her mind. She squirmed a little from discomfort as she realized that what he was saying was true. Still clinging consciously to her crystal heart which now lay in pieces on Michael's desk she struggled with believing that there could be anything more beautiful than what she had just lost. Hardly able to see past her pain of losing one of the most precious things in her life she battled with her own thoughts as she tried to understand.
"I'm sorry," she said in a subdued tone. "You are right and I should not have lashed out at you like that."
"It's ok," he replied. "I understand what you are dealing with. To answer your first question, you don't need to buy it. What would you say if I gave it to you, right now, with no expense on your part?"
"I'd at least have a box to put something in," she responded, as the corners of her lips turned up slightly.
"Did I detect a little bit of a joke," he asked as he smiled back at her? "That's good. You are a strong and resilient woman."
"Truthfully," she continued, "I'd think that it wasn't worth much if you're just wanting to give it away."
"On the contrary," he replied. "It's worth so much that I have to give it away."
She glanced in my direction with a complete look of confusion on her face.
Michael continued, "This item can only be found right here in this shop and no where else. The material comes from Eden's River but I handcraft it here with no outside influence or assistance. It is my own design and no one else has the skill or the ability to accomplish this kind of craftsmanship."
"I think I'll change my response to your question," she said with a touch of humor in her voice. "I'd say you were absolutely nuts."
Michael chuckled with amusement as Sherry giggled at her own comedy. It made me feel a little better to see that she could have at least a little fun even in the midst of such pain.
"You're telling me that what is inside that plain wooden box is priceless and that you want to give it to me right now with no return on my part?"
"I said without expense on your part. There is one thing you can do."
"I don't even know what's in the box yet," she stated.
"Ok, two things," he responded.
"And what's that," she asked?
"First you need to trust me."
She offered no response but sat in silence, lost in the tangle of her own thoughts. Michael waited, patient as ever.
"And number two," she finally asked?
"When you leave here tonight you leave the fragments of your old crystal heart with me. That's all I ask in return."
She winced as she tried to weigh the implications of giving up her old heart. Her thoughts seemed confused and twisted as she tried to sort them out. To the outside observer the choice might have seemed easy but to someone caught in the midnight of an emotional darkness, the path ahead was gloomy and uncertain. She felt as though she had no light to guide her. Her crystal heart meant everything to her and all she wanted was to have it back in one piece.
Sighing heavily she finally spoke, "You can have my old heart. It's apparently no good to me now anyway. But this new item you're giving me better be at least as good as the old one."
"You have my word," he said as he handed her the box.
Holding it quietly for a moment she turned to look at me. Trepidation filled her eyes as she considered the implications of being disappointed. Turning back to the box she slowly tilted the lid back on its hinges. She stared in disbelief, unable to take her eyes from the object before her.
I moved around behind the sofa so I could get a better view and what met my gaze was truly beyond description. Nestled within the black velvet interior of this plain wooden box was the most beautiful blue sapphire gemstone I had ever seen. It measured out to about the size of the palm of my hand and was cut into the shape of a heart. A triple band of gold, embedded into its outer edge, spanned its entire circumference. The front of the gem was cut and polished to a perfectly flat surface and was bounded by an array of small and intricate facets which glittered richly even in the soft light of the shop. From within its interior emanated a soft warm light, creating a quiet ambience that faded into the deep velvet blue of the outer edges. The facets decorating the back of the gem picked up the soft light and reflected it back in rich varied hues of blue. The effect was one of looking through a doorway into another world, into another universe.
But this was not all. As beautiful as this sapphire was, it was made even more so by the words inscribed into its interior. On either side of the source of light within the heart of the sapphire were etched two promises in gold lettering. Each text was slanted in such a way so as to catch the light radiating from the center of the gem.
On the left were these words: "He healeth the broken in heart and bindeth up their wounds."
On the right were these words: "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."
Sherry looked up at Michael, tears trickling down her face. She opened her mouth to speak but, unable to find the words, she just sat and stared at him.
Finally she spoke. "What can I say," she asked, her voice breaking with emotion? "I just don't have any words. How can I ever repay you?"
Reaching out his hand he gently wiped away a tear from her cheek. "It's payment enough to know that I have helped to bring you some healing. I am not in the business of taking what I can from people. I am in the business of bringing happiness and joy to those who are broken and hurting. That is my greatest reward. There is nothing in the whole universe that I desire more than this."
Silence fell for a moment as Sherry's tears flowed freely, more from a sense of relief and comfort than from pain. The knowledge of a new friend who did not judge her but was willing to do anything in the world to help her heal, brought strength and hope in the midst of her overwhelming pain and suffering. She was not alone in this struggle.
Moving around the couch I sat down beside her opposite from Michael and put my arm around her. Quietly she laid her head on my shoulder as she continued to admire her new sapphire heart.
"I will be right back," Michael said as he stood to his feet and disappeared into his office. He returned a few moments later with a cardboard box which he handed to Sherry.
"This is a special lamp which you must use to keep the internal light charged within the sapphire. I recommend at least a half hour every day. Once a week bring the sapphire here to my shop and I will polish it and give it an extra charge which it needs in order to maintain its glow."
"Thank you, Michael," she said quietly. Struggling to her feet she gave him a hug as tears again trickled down her cheeks.
"It's my pleasure," he replied returning her hug.
"It seems all I can do tonight is shed tears," she said wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "I'm like an endless fountain of water."
"That's alright, Sherry. Crying is a release for internal pain and helps to cleanse the soul. You are dealing with an extremely heavy load. Don't be ashamed to let it out when you need to. Open up to your friend. Talking through your thoughts and emotions will also help you deal with it better. But most importantly open your soul to the Father. He will help to guide you through this."
"Michael," I said, "Thank you so much for your help. I am glad that you were here tonight. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been."
"All things work together for good to them that love God," he responded, shaking my hand. He smiled warmly. "Both of you have a good night. I will pray that the Father brings comfort and healing to her heart."
Stepping out into the cold night we began the trek back home. The snow and the wind had both subsided and the sky had cleared considerably, revealing a beautiful array of stars dancing across the backdrop of endless space. Sherry stopped and pulled the sapphire box from her coat pocket were she had placed it. As she opened the lid a flood of light spilled out into the darkness. Suddenly the night didn't seem so cold. The light seemed to add warmth to the night air around us. In silence she stared at the glowing sapphire unable to find any words to express her thoughts. A few flakes of frost drifted through the aura of blue hues that surrounded us looking like very small diamonds as they glistened and glittered in the warm quiet light.
Closing the lid she returned it to her coat pocket for safekeeping. Reaching out I took her hand and we pushed our way through the snow toward home. The pain was still there in her soul but she had received new strength and courage for the days ahead and for the battles that awaited her.
Part 1 - Preface - 2009-04-13
Shattered Heart
Part 1 - Preface
The following story has its roots in an actual event. I watched first hand as a son's rejection and anger shattered the heart of a mother. When she called me the night that he was arrested she couldn't even talk. Her spirit and her soul were so broken that she felt she could not go on. I know that there were times when she wished for death to release her from her pain. Over the weeks that followed she fought against the relentless onslaught of tears and anguish that seemed to have no end. Every day, every hour, every minute seemed filled with rivers of pain and heartache. Every day she would call me, weeping uncontrollably and asking, "Why?" And I would try to encourage her and give her hope. But how does a mother's heart heal when she is forced to witness the pain and suffering of her child, brought on by his own choices and his own actions? How can she heal when she is helpless to do anything about it? It is an ongoing battle which may or may not find resolution in this life.
The time period in this fictional account takes place over the span of a few hours, but in real life it can span weeks, months, years, or a lifetime. This story goes out to all the hurting mothers who have lost a child to the dark side of life. This story goes out to all the mothers who have had to watch helplessly as a child threw away his/her life and chose instead a path of pain, degradation, and self-destructive behavior. There is one Source, however, to which all may turn in these times of heart-wrenching agony. This is the story of one mothers struggle to find strength and courage from this one Source of hope and life. But this is only the beginning. It will continue to unfold for the rest of her life.
The time period in this fictional account takes place over the span of a few hours, but in real life it can span weeks, months, years, or a lifetime. This story goes out to all the hurting mothers who have lost a child to the dark side of life. This story goes out to all the mothers who have had to watch helplessly as a child threw away his/her life and chose instead a path of pain, degradation, and self-destructive behavior. There is one Source, however, to which all may turn in these times of heart-wrenching agony. This is the story of one mothers struggle to find strength and courage from this one Source of hope and life. But this is only the beginning. It will continue to unfold for the rest of her life.
The Most Important Question
Part 1 - Questions - 2016-01-01
Part 2 - Purpose and Exploration - 2016-07-01
Part 3 - Seekers - 2016-08-01
Part 4 - Spawning - 2016-08-01
Part 5 - The Ultimate Question - 2016-09-01
Part 1 - Questions - 2016-01-01
The Most Important Question
Part 1 - Questions
Questions. Loudly voiced questions, silent questions, pointed questions, generalized questions. They stalk us from the moment we awaken in the morning until we lie down in sleep at the end of the day. Sometimes they burden our souls with pain and anguish. Sometimes they puzzle our minds. Sometimes they inspire our hearts.
We need questions. Without them our societies, our cultures, and our global communities would dwindle away to nothing and die. What good is a quest, a search, an exploration, if there are no questions? What's the use of exploring the deep dark worlds of the oceans if there are no questions? What's the use of cutting a pathway to Mars if there are no questions? Without questions, there are no answers. Without answers, there is no knowledge. Without knowledge, there is nothing. You cannot write a book unless you first ask a question. You cannot invent unless you first ask a question. You cannot forge new pathways in knowledge and understanding unless you first ask a question. Questions are the driving force behind all our learning, our advancements, and our achievements.
Questions come in all levels of complexity, from the very basic, like "What do you think of that ice cream", to "How does the universe work"? Some questions force specific answers. Others are very broad and more general, and could be considered as a guide, or maybe a starting point to a journey of discovery. Some questions are voiced very loudly while there are some questions that are never put into words - wordless, silent, hidden.
Let's consider the first example question that I used in the previous paragraph. "What do you think of that ice cream"? If I were to pose this question to you, what kind of answers could I expect? Delicious, divine, yummy, excellent, just to name a few. What would I not expect? "Well the composition of this particular brand is rather interesting. The molecular structure seems to be slightly..." I would most likely roll my eyes and interrupt you with something like this: "I'm not looking for the atomic weight of every individual atom and the structure of the molecules. All I want to know is whether the ice cream was good or not. All I want is a simple answer." And that's all I would need. A one word answer would suffice. Why? In this case the question is more relational than it is scientific. I'm interested in your emotional response not your technical views. It's simple, basic, and uncomplicated. And, at the same time, it's specific and pointed.
Now, let's consider the other inquiry, "How does the universe work"? Could you give me a one word answer that would satisfy my curiosity? Most likely not. If you tried it would be extremely insufficient. Maybe something like, "complex", "gravity", or "inertia". Do these explain how the universe works? Obviously not. There are so many variables to the workings and the makeup of the universe that it would take volumes to describe even the smallest piece of the puzzle. A question like this could be considered a primer question. It beckons us to ask more questions. It drives us to search for answers. It challenges us to learn and to understand.
Sometimes people ask complex questions but they want a simple and basic answer. You know what I'm talking about. They might ask something like this: "What is it about John's marketing plan that you don't agree with?" With several aspects of the plan that seem to be a setup for failure, your response can only be expounded in an insightful oratory of no less than 5 minutes. And yet, after 2 sentences, your coworker sighs heavily and asks in a perturbed voice, "How long is this going to take?" Well, what was he expecting? Maybe all he wanted to hear was, "shortsighted", "lacks creativity", or "it's dumb". Well, those are basic answers alright but they don't actually answer the question. Too often when we are forced to give concise shortened versions of our answers others tend to misunderstand and even become offended. The reason is, to get a good picture of what's really in your mind, you need time to spell out what you are thinking and why.
And we even do this to ourselves. We don't allow ourselves to get all the information. We cut off our thinking processes because we want the "short version". We don't have time to think and contemplate. We don't have time to look for the complete answer. And if we do have time, we don't care. It's like a fast food drive thru window. We want the answer as quick as possible and all rolled up in a nice paper bag. We can get back on the freeway of life and stuff our mind with data that makes very little sense and with little interest in what it might be made of. The drive to understand the truth is pushed to the back of our minds and hearts and is replaced with a frivolous curiosity that does nothing to answer our internal questions nor does it get us anywhere near to the heart of the matter.
Is this really all we want and desire? Are we only interested in being entertained? Are we so caught up in daily business, material possessions, wealth, power, prestige, that we have no room for what really matters? Have we forgotten about our own souls? We are lost in a sea of travelers with no destination. We travel the highway of life but we have no journey. We have lost the compass of our lives: The most important question in the universe.
We need questions. Without them our societies, our cultures, and our global communities would dwindle away to nothing and die. What good is a quest, a search, an exploration, if there are no questions? What's the use of exploring the deep dark worlds of the oceans if there are no questions? What's the use of cutting a pathway to Mars if there are no questions? Without questions, there are no answers. Without answers, there is no knowledge. Without knowledge, there is nothing. You cannot write a book unless you first ask a question. You cannot invent unless you first ask a question. You cannot forge new pathways in knowledge and understanding unless you first ask a question. Questions are the driving force behind all our learning, our advancements, and our achievements.
Questions come in all levels of complexity, from the very basic, like "What do you think of that ice cream", to "How does the universe work"? Some questions force specific answers. Others are very broad and more general, and could be considered as a guide, or maybe a starting point to a journey of discovery. Some questions are voiced very loudly while there are some questions that are never put into words - wordless, silent, hidden.
Let's consider the first example question that I used in the previous paragraph. "What do you think of that ice cream"? If I were to pose this question to you, what kind of answers could I expect? Delicious, divine, yummy, excellent, just to name a few. What would I not expect? "Well the composition of this particular brand is rather interesting. The molecular structure seems to be slightly..." I would most likely roll my eyes and interrupt you with something like this: "I'm not looking for the atomic weight of every individual atom and the structure of the molecules. All I want to know is whether the ice cream was good or not. All I want is a simple answer." And that's all I would need. A one word answer would suffice. Why? In this case the question is more relational than it is scientific. I'm interested in your emotional response not your technical views. It's simple, basic, and uncomplicated. And, at the same time, it's specific and pointed.
Now, let's consider the other inquiry, "How does the universe work"? Could you give me a one word answer that would satisfy my curiosity? Most likely not. If you tried it would be extremely insufficient. Maybe something like, "complex", "gravity", or "inertia". Do these explain how the universe works? Obviously not. There are so many variables to the workings and the makeup of the universe that it would take volumes to describe even the smallest piece of the puzzle. A question like this could be considered a primer question. It beckons us to ask more questions. It drives us to search for answers. It challenges us to learn and to understand.
Sometimes people ask complex questions but they want a simple and basic answer. You know what I'm talking about. They might ask something like this: "What is it about John's marketing plan that you don't agree with?" With several aspects of the plan that seem to be a setup for failure, your response can only be expounded in an insightful oratory of no less than 5 minutes. And yet, after 2 sentences, your coworker sighs heavily and asks in a perturbed voice, "How long is this going to take?" Well, what was he expecting? Maybe all he wanted to hear was, "shortsighted", "lacks creativity", or "it's dumb". Well, those are basic answers alright but they don't actually answer the question. Too often when we are forced to give concise shortened versions of our answers others tend to misunderstand and even become offended. The reason is, to get a good picture of what's really in your mind, you need time to spell out what you are thinking and why.
And we even do this to ourselves. We don't allow ourselves to get all the information. We cut off our thinking processes because we want the "short version". We don't have time to think and contemplate. We don't have time to look for the complete answer. And if we do have time, we don't care. It's like a fast food drive thru window. We want the answer as quick as possible and all rolled up in a nice paper bag. We can get back on the freeway of life and stuff our mind with data that makes very little sense and with little interest in what it might be made of. The drive to understand the truth is pushed to the back of our minds and hearts and is replaced with a frivolous curiosity that does nothing to answer our internal questions nor does it get us anywhere near to the heart of the matter.
Is this really all we want and desire? Are we only interested in being entertained? Are we so caught up in daily business, material possessions, wealth, power, prestige, that we have no room for what really matters? Have we forgotten about our own souls? We are lost in a sea of travelers with no destination. We travel the highway of life but we have no journey. We have lost the compass of our lives: The most important question in the universe.
Part 2 - Purpose and Exploration - 2016-07-01
The Most Important Question
Part 2 - Purpose and Exploration
What is the most important question in the universe?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the universe made of?
Who am I?
Where did we come from?
Where are we going?
Are we alone in the universe?
What is my purpose in life?
If we put together a list of questions posed by every human from the beginning of time until the present, it would be phenomenally monstrous. It would be huge. Question after question posed by millions of billions of humans. Endless discussions, thought provoking lectures, essays stretching on for hundreds of thousands of pages.
How do we determine which, out of billions of questions, is the most important one in the universe? After all, each being on the face of the earth thinks his/hers is the one. From a purely relative point of view that might be true. By that I mean relative to each person's current circumstances and perspective. What we are experiencing at any given moment will shape the philosophical views and values that we hold. Sometimes these values and views change with our ever shifting surroundings. Other times they will strengthen and become more and more ingrained into our lives, our thought patterns, and our behaviors.
With this in mind how could we ever possibly nail down a single, static, most-important question? When everything around us, and we ourselves for that matter, continually transforms and morphs from one day to the next, would we ever be able to achieve one overarching question?
To help us get started, let's take a look into one aspect of humanity that is a constant, ever present, and that never seems to change.
We humans love to explore. We love to push the limits of science. We love to search through the regions of the unknown. We love to forge ahead into the realms of new discoveries and new understanding. But why? What is our purpose? Why are we so dead set on advancement? Why are we so tenacious about pushing beyond what we know? Why do we want so badly to find those new frontiers? What is the driving force? What is our motivation?
Are we searching for something? Answers? Answers to what? Advancement, knowledge, science? Is it strictly out of duty? Is it only to gain the upper hand? Solely for power, wealth, and recognition? But could these aspects be driven by a deeper need? A need to find meaning to our lives? A need to find a purpose for living?
Every day we ask, "Who are we?" "Where did we come from?" "Where are we going?" "What is our future?" "What is our purpose?" We ask individually. We ask as a whole.
These are all great questions. They spur our imaginations. They drive us to understand. They give us food for thought and debate. And yet... Are we still empty? Have we found the answers? Why do we continue to seek and to search? Are the answers not enough?
Look deeper. Dig harder. For everything that we do as a human race is driven by one single pulse from the furthest depths of our beings: The most important question in the universe.
But where do we look for this all important question? Do we climb the steeps into Tibet? Do we take our trek across the deserts of northern Africa? Do we make pilgrimages to the Holy Land? Do we forge through the jungles of Central America? Do we float the great river of the Amazon? Or would we find it in the frozen waste lands of the Antarctic? Maybe the interior of Australia? The streets of Paris or London? The beautiful plains and mountains of North America?
Do we look within or do we look without? Maybe it's both? Maybe we have to look within first of all before we can look without?
In any case we must dig hard. We must dig deep. We must be persistent. We must peel back the facades that we have created. We must break down the barriers that we have built. We must lay aside our prejudices, our personal perceptions, and even our pride. We must press beyond our own selfish motives and desires. We must set aside all our ambitions and our goals. If we don't, they will cloud our judgment and our perceptions. Only then will we find the one basic and fundamental question, the question that drives us in every single aspect of our lives, the question that spawns all other questions no matter how great or how trivial. And once we have found it? It bids us look without. It prompts us to reach outside of ourselves for the answer. It motivates us to consider the universe in a whole new light.
What is the most important question in the universe?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the universe made of?
Who am I?
Where did we come from?
Where are we going?
Are we alone in the universe?
What is my purpose in life?
If we put together a list of questions posed by every human from the beginning of time until the present, it would be phenomenally monstrous. It would be huge. Question after question posed by millions of billions of humans. Endless discussions, thought provoking lectures, essays stretching on for hundreds of thousands of pages.
How do we determine which, out of billions of questions, is the most important one in the universe? After all, each being on the face of the earth thinks his/hers is the one. From a purely relative point of view that might be true. By that I mean relative to each person's current circumstances and perspective. What we are experiencing at any given moment will shape the philosophical views and values that we hold. Sometimes these values and views change with our ever shifting surroundings. Other times they will strengthen and become more and more ingrained into our lives, our thought patterns, and our behaviors.
With this in mind how could we ever possibly nail down a single, static, most-important question? When everything around us, and we ourselves for that matter, continually transforms and morphs from one day to the next, would we ever be able to achieve one overarching question?
To help us get started, let's take a look into one aspect of humanity that is a constant, ever present, and that never seems to change.
We humans love to explore. We love to push the limits of science. We love to search through the regions of the unknown. We love to forge ahead into the realms of new discoveries and new understanding. But why? What is our purpose? Why are we so dead set on advancement? Why are we so tenacious about pushing beyond what we know? Why do we want so badly to find those new frontiers? What is the driving force? What is our motivation?
Are we searching for something? Answers? Answers to what? Advancement, knowledge, science? Is it strictly out of duty? Is it only to gain the upper hand? Solely for power, wealth, and recognition? But could these aspects be driven by a deeper need? A need to find meaning to our lives? A need to find a purpose for living?
Every day we ask, "Who are we?" "Where did we come from?" "Where are we going?" "What is our future?" "What is our purpose?" We ask individually. We ask as a whole.
These are all great questions. They spur our imaginations. They drive us to understand. They give us food for thought and debate. And yet... Are we still empty? Have we found the answers? Why do we continue to seek and to search? Are the answers not enough?
Look deeper. Dig harder. For everything that we do as a human race is driven by one single pulse from the furthest depths of our beings: The most important question in the universe.
But where do we look for this all important question? Do we climb the steeps into Tibet? Do we take our trek across the deserts of northern Africa? Do we make pilgrimages to the Holy Land? Do we forge through the jungles of Central America? Do we float the great river of the Amazon? Or would we find it in the frozen waste lands of the Antarctic? Maybe the interior of Australia? The streets of Paris or London? The beautiful plains and mountains of North America?
Do we look within or do we look without? Maybe it's both? Maybe we have to look within first of all before we can look without?
In any case we must dig hard. We must dig deep. We must be persistent. We must peel back the facades that we have created. We must break down the barriers that we have built. We must lay aside our prejudices, our personal perceptions, and even our pride. We must press beyond our own selfish motives and desires. We must set aside all our ambitions and our goals. If we don't, they will cloud our judgment and our perceptions. Only then will we find the one basic and fundamental question, the question that drives us in every single aspect of our lives, the question that spawns all other questions no matter how great or how trivial. And once we have found it? It bids us look without. It prompts us to reach outside of ourselves for the answer. It motivates us to consider the universe in a whole new light.
What is the most important question in the universe?
Part 3 - Seekers - 2016-08-01
The Most Important Question
Part 3 - Seekers
Humanity is a race of seekers. We dig for information. We scour for knowledge. We are driven to understand. We want to know more of the world around us. We explore. We inquire. We investigate. We research. We examine. We query. We interrogate. We question. We probe. We pry. We challenge. We dispute. We debate. We delve. We chase. We pursue. We are adventurous. We follow quests. We journey hither. We journey thither. We push the limits. We go as far as we can go. We dive as deep as we can dive.
The list goes on and on and on...
We find answers but we are never satisfied. We want more. We stretch. We reach. It's not enough, so we keep grasping for more.
There is an innate desire, an internal drive that forces us to entrench ourselves in the world around us in every way possible. Even our addictions seem to stem from this compulsion for answers. Driven by desires and cravings we immerse ourselves in the good, the bad, and the ugly. Addictions form out of desires for fulfillment, for understanding. We want to be full but we are always empty. When we think we've found the answers we are suddenly left with a realization of nothingness.
The most important question in the universe. It is the most ignored, misinterpreted, and misapplied question in the history of mankind. The question lingers at the very core of our existence. It produces longings, yearnings, and cravings for an answer that will satisfy our souls. The answer to this all important, all encompassing question, is the most sought after and the most desired of the whole human race.
But, sadly, we want the answer but we are not willing to follow where the inquiry leads. We want the answer to fit our own concepts. We want the answer to fit into the nice little mold that we have designed for it. Before we even understand the question, we have formed our own perceptions and created our own array of judgments by which to try the answer. If it fails to appeal to our own selfish and conceited notions we discard it as a worthless object, undesirable, and undeserving of our time and consideration. We would cast away a diamond in the rough because it does not meet our perfect picture.
How we interpret the nature of the most important question in the universe will determine the nature of the answer we receive. If we get it wrong... We just might lose the diamond.
What is the most important question in the universe?
The list goes on and on and on...
We find answers but we are never satisfied. We want more. We stretch. We reach. It's not enough, so we keep grasping for more.
There is an innate desire, an internal drive that forces us to entrench ourselves in the world around us in every way possible. Even our addictions seem to stem from this compulsion for answers. Driven by desires and cravings we immerse ourselves in the good, the bad, and the ugly. Addictions form out of desires for fulfillment, for understanding. We want to be full but we are always empty. When we think we've found the answers we are suddenly left with a realization of nothingness.
The most important question in the universe. It is the most ignored, misinterpreted, and misapplied question in the history of mankind. The question lingers at the very core of our existence. It produces longings, yearnings, and cravings for an answer that will satisfy our souls. The answer to this all important, all encompassing question, is the most sought after and the most desired of the whole human race.
But, sadly, we want the answer but we are not willing to follow where the inquiry leads. We want the answer to fit our own concepts. We want the answer to fit into the nice little mold that we have designed for it. Before we even understand the question, we have formed our own perceptions and created our own array of judgments by which to try the answer. If it fails to appeal to our own selfish and conceited notions we discard it as a worthless object, undesirable, and undeserving of our time and consideration. We would cast away a diamond in the rough because it does not meet our perfect picture.
How we interpret the nature of the most important question in the universe will determine the nature of the answer we receive. If we get it wrong... We just might lose the diamond.
What is the most important question in the universe?
Part 4 - Spawning - 2016-08-01
The Most Important Question
Part 4 - Spawning
Let's see if we can drill down to the most basic and most important question. I don't think it'll take very long.
What is the meaning of life?
Who am I?
What is my role in life?
Are we alone in the universe?
Are we satisfied that we have attained what we are seeking once any one of these questions is answered? Of course not. We pose these questions because we are looking for something more than a single answer. First of all, the questions posed above, actually themselves spawn a plethora of other questions before we even receive an answer. Many times we articulate questions for the sole purpose of spawning more questions. Second, even when we reach an answer, it usually opens up a whole new realm to explore, new worlds to investigate, and a host more questions to ask - still all centered around the original question. The drive to understand takes us deeper and deeper. So we pursue on.
What are we looking for? What is the underlying theme of all that we do, of all that we pursue, of all that we aspire to be?
Let's look at it this way. We want to know that our world is safe. We want to know that it is stable. We want to know that we are protected within our environment. We want to know that we have what we need to survive. We want to know that we can succeed, that we can grow, that we can claim our goals. If any of these things go out of balance or lose stability we want to know why. What happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen? Will it happen again? Can it be stopped from happening again? Can it be controlled? We want to understand. We want to know. We want to comprehend. We want to know that our answers are accurate and solid. So we build up facts that give support and credence to other facts. We want these answers and these facts to be true.
And after we establish the truth and verity of these facts are we satisfied? Do we stop our research, curl up in a hole, and wither away, satisfied that we have AN answer? Again, of course not. We want more. More knowledge. More information. More facts. We continue to dig deeper, drill harder, look more intently. We ask more questions. We want more answers. Are we almost there?
What is the most important question in the universe? Let's turn the page and find out. But first, once we find this all important question, can we stop what we are doing? Can we just sit back and do nothing for the rest of our lives? Can we be satisfied that we have the answer? No. Because once we turn this page and we find that all important question, at that moment, the quest begins.
But I warn you, lay aside every single preconceived notion and concept before entering into this journey. The quest itself is eternal and you want to make sure that the facts are really the facts and not just something that looks pretty and sounds good. Misapplied information can be detrimental.
What is the most important question in the universe?
What is the meaning of life?
Who am I?
What is my role in life?
Are we alone in the universe?
Are we satisfied that we have attained what we are seeking once any one of these questions is answered? Of course not. We pose these questions because we are looking for something more than a single answer. First of all, the questions posed above, actually themselves spawn a plethora of other questions before we even receive an answer. Many times we articulate questions for the sole purpose of spawning more questions. Second, even when we reach an answer, it usually opens up a whole new realm to explore, new worlds to investigate, and a host more questions to ask - still all centered around the original question. The drive to understand takes us deeper and deeper. So we pursue on.
What are we looking for? What is the underlying theme of all that we do, of all that we pursue, of all that we aspire to be?
Let's look at it this way. We want to know that our world is safe. We want to know that it is stable. We want to know that we are protected within our environment. We want to know that we have what we need to survive. We want to know that we can succeed, that we can grow, that we can claim our goals. If any of these things go out of balance or lose stability we want to know why. What happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen? Will it happen again? Can it be stopped from happening again? Can it be controlled? We want to understand. We want to know. We want to comprehend. We want to know that our answers are accurate and solid. So we build up facts that give support and credence to other facts. We want these answers and these facts to be true.
And after we establish the truth and verity of these facts are we satisfied? Do we stop our research, curl up in a hole, and wither away, satisfied that we have AN answer? Again, of course not. We want more. More knowledge. More information. More facts. We continue to dig deeper, drill harder, look more intently. We ask more questions. We want more answers. Are we almost there?
What is the most important question in the universe? Let's turn the page and find out. But first, once we find this all important question, can we stop what we are doing? Can we just sit back and do nothing for the rest of our lives? Can we be satisfied that we have the answer? No. Because once we turn this page and we find that all important question, at that moment, the quest begins.
But I warn you, lay aside every single preconceived notion and concept before entering into this journey. The quest itself is eternal and you want to make sure that the facts are really the facts and not just something that looks pretty and sounds good. Misapplied information can be detrimental.
What is the most important question in the universe?
Part 5 - The Ultimate Question - 2016-09-01
The Most Important Question
Part 5 - The Ultimate Question
Knowledge, facts, instruction, data, information, details, evidence, figures, proof, statistics...
They all have one thing in common. Just like the few questions we posed in Part 1 and Part 3, they have one underlying theme. It needs to be accurate, correct, undeniable, certain, irrefutable, and true. There can be no false assumptions or assertions. When seeking for answers you have to be sure that the facts are true and that the data is accurate. If it is corrupted or false in any way or to the slightest degree, the results of your labor will become unstable and will eventually crumble.
Everything that we do is to this end: We want to know that whatever it is that we are dealing with is true and accurate. The answer to any given question, then, would be considered truth. Truth specific to the topic at hand. And yet if it is false in any way it will affect all other topics with which it encounters. So we seek after accurate data, correct information, undeniable evidence. We seek after truth, the truth for that question, the truth about an ordeal, the truth about existence. All our efforts and inquiries come from a drive to seek out and find the truth on any given subject. From the very center of our being we have a need, a drive, a compulsion to understand the truth on any subject at any moment in our lives.
So what is the most important question in the universe? What is the question that spawns all other questions and inquiries?
Consider the following:
What is the meaning of life? - "What is the truth about the meaning of life?"
Who am I? - "What is the truth about me?"
Where did we come from? - "What is the truth about our origin?"
Where are we going? - "What is the truth about our future?"
Are we alone in the universe? - "What is the truth about life in the universe?"
"What is the truth?" Or, as it was once voiced over 2000 years ago in the greatest and most famous trial to ever take place in the history of the world, "What is truth?"
The most important question in the universe: What is truth? Or, what is the truth?
Here is where the journey begins. Here is where we begin to ask questions and we begin to seek for answers. This is not a journey for just a scattered and select few. The journey for every man, woman, and child must start here. Too often we allow ourselves to be immersed in the trivial, the material, the mundane. We forget what really matters: The search for truth. I know because I have had to return to this point on numerous occasions. I forget, I get distracted, I get side-tracked just like anyone. But we must come back to this point, refocus, and try again.
Seek for truth. Seek for it as for hidden treasure. It is more precious than diamonds. It is more costly than gold. Be careful not to cast it away.
What is truth?
They all have one thing in common. Just like the few questions we posed in Part 1 and Part 3, they have one underlying theme. It needs to be accurate, correct, undeniable, certain, irrefutable, and true. There can be no false assumptions or assertions. When seeking for answers you have to be sure that the facts are true and that the data is accurate. If it is corrupted or false in any way or to the slightest degree, the results of your labor will become unstable and will eventually crumble.
Everything that we do is to this end: We want to know that whatever it is that we are dealing with is true and accurate. The answer to any given question, then, would be considered truth. Truth specific to the topic at hand. And yet if it is false in any way it will affect all other topics with which it encounters. So we seek after accurate data, correct information, undeniable evidence. We seek after truth, the truth for that question, the truth about an ordeal, the truth about existence. All our efforts and inquiries come from a drive to seek out and find the truth on any given subject. From the very center of our being we have a need, a drive, a compulsion to understand the truth on any subject at any moment in our lives.
So what is the most important question in the universe? What is the question that spawns all other questions and inquiries?
Consider the following:
What is the meaning of life? - "What is the truth about the meaning of life?"
Who am I? - "What is the truth about me?"
Where did we come from? - "What is the truth about our origin?"
Where are we going? - "What is the truth about our future?"
Are we alone in the universe? - "What is the truth about life in the universe?"
"What is the truth?" Or, as it was once voiced over 2000 years ago in the greatest and most famous trial to ever take place in the history of the world, "What is truth?"
The most important question in the universe: What is truth? Or, what is the truth?
Here is where the journey begins. Here is where we begin to ask questions and we begin to seek for answers. This is not a journey for just a scattered and select few. The journey for every man, woman, and child must start here. Too often we allow ourselves to be immersed in the trivial, the material, the mundane. We forget what really matters: The search for truth. I know because I have had to return to this point on numerous occasions. I forget, I get distracted, I get side-tracked just like anyone. But we must come back to this point, refocus, and try again.
Seek for truth. Seek for it as for hidden treasure. It is more precious than diamonds. It is more costly than gold. Be careful not to cast it away.
What is truth?
Prelude
My life is stalked by a dark, ruthless, and determined enemy. He shows no mercy and extends no kindness. His attacks are brutal and cruel. He preys upon my weakness. He robs me of my joy, my happiness, and my very existance. He drains away my energy, saps me of my strength, and steals away my courage and my honor. He strips me of my dignity and my confidence, and leaves me empty and defeated. From every side he hedges me in. The sky above is brass, the ground under my feet is paved with steel. He walls me in with iron. He mocks me from without. He torments me from within. He stakes his claim upon my soul. He pierces my heart with his banner of victory.
In this battle of strength and might I find I have no defense and I have no tactics. I have nothing with which to fight back. So I wait. He pummels my soul. He bombards my senses. He badgers my mind. But still I wait. I am weary, I am battered, I am wounded and bruised, but I must wait. With his icy fingers he grips my heart. The pressure is intense. I struggle to draw my breath. My mind fills with fog. My body shakes and shivers. Tears course down my cheeks. It feels like I am dying. It feels like my life is slipping away. But still I must wait. I wait because I know. I wait because I understand. I wait because I have learned.
As powerful and as intimdating as this enemy might be, as unrelenting and tenatious as he is, he cannot take my soul. He may abuse me, torment me, and afflict me with pain and suffering, but he cannot have my soul. He cannot take my life for it is not his to take. I am not his. He does not own me. He cannot have me.
I cannot fight this battle, I do not have the strength. And no one else can fight it for me. I am alone and yet I am not alone. And so I wait. In patience, in faith, in silence I wait. I cannot trust myself. I cannot trust another. I wait. I wait because I am not alone. I wait for One, the only One.
In this battle of strength and might I find I have no defense and I have no tactics. I have nothing with which to fight back. So I wait. He pummels my soul. He bombards my senses. He badgers my mind. But still I wait. I am weary, I am battered, I am wounded and bruised, but I must wait. With his icy fingers he grips my heart. The pressure is intense. I struggle to draw my breath. My mind fills with fog. My body shakes and shivers. Tears course down my cheeks. It feels like I am dying. It feels like my life is slipping away. But still I must wait. I wait because I know. I wait because I understand. I wait because I have learned.
As powerful and as intimdating as this enemy might be, as unrelenting and tenatious as he is, he cannot take my soul. He may abuse me, torment me, and afflict me with pain and suffering, but he cannot have my soul. He cannot take my life for it is not his to take. I am not his. He does not own me. He cannot have me.
I cannot fight this battle, I do not have the strength. And no one else can fight it for me. I am alone and yet I am not alone. And so I wait. In patience, in faith, in silence I wait. I cannot trust myself. I cannot trust another. I wait. I wait because I am not alone. I wait for One, the only One.
Introduction
Part 1 - Beginnings
Have you ever gone back to read something you wrote some time in the past and suddenly your heart is heavy and your emotions threaten to overflow with tears because you feel like you have strayed from the original intent and plans you had laid out? It might be a few years ago, several years ago, or maybe decades ago? That's what happened to me with some works on depression I had done over 10 years ago. The documents sat in my documents folder transferring from one computer to another over the years and soon I forgot about them. Until I was considering what to write as an introduction to this site. As I scanned through the first article I found the following statement:
"As time goes on I will do my best to put into words not only the struggles and the battles that I fight but also the victories and the enlightenment that I gain along the way. My life is not my own. I am here for a reason and I will do my best to fulfill my purpose."
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense that I had not kept to my purpose. I had strayed from the path. I had lost the goal for my future. And now I find myself in a struggle to come back to my original plan, a plan to not only find fulfillment, purpose, and truth for my own life, but to make known my own struggles, battles, and victories in a way that others might find strength and courage for their own lives.
"My life is not my own." I have forgotten this most important key. I am not here for myself. I am here for others. I am here to help, to strengthen, to encourage. If I am to fulfill a purpose in this life then my heart should have no place for selfishness.
Solitary Place is about struggles and triumphs, loses and gains, valleys and mountains, darkness and light. It's about losing the way and the efforts to find it again. It's about facing powerful enemies that would enslave the soul. It's about small victories in the midst of huge battles. It's about faults and failures. It's about virtues and successes.
It's also about the search for truth in a world of lies, deceit, and falsehoods. It's about reality. It's about logic. It's about perspectives on life. It's about perceptions built from the past. It's about finding new ways of thinking.
My thoughts in words! That sounds scary!
"As time goes on I will do my best to put into words not only the struggles and the battles that I fight but also the victories and the enlightenment that I gain along the way. My life is not my own. I am here for a reason and I will do my best to fulfill my purpose."
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense that I had not kept to my purpose. I had strayed from the path. I had lost the goal for my future. And now I find myself in a struggle to come back to my original plan, a plan to not only find fulfillment, purpose, and truth for my own life, but to make known my own struggles, battles, and victories in a way that others might find strength and courage for their own lives.
"My life is not my own." I have forgotten this most important key. I am not here for myself. I am here for others. I am here to help, to strengthen, to encourage. If I am to fulfill a purpose in this life then my heart should have no place for selfishness.
Solitary Place is about struggles and triumphs, loses and gains, valleys and mountains, darkness and light. It's about losing the way and the efforts to find it again. It's about facing powerful enemies that would enslave the soul. It's about small victories in the midst of huge battles. It's about faults and failures. It's about virtues and successes.
It's also about the search for truth in a world of lies, deceit, and falsehoods. It's about reality. It's about logic. It's about perspectives on life. It's about perceptions built from the past. It's about finding new ways of thinking.
My thoughts in words! That sounds scary!