She stood in the kitchen staring out the window over the sink.  Would today be the day she thought to herself.  She could hear him eating behind her.  This always irritated her; the clicking and clacking and slurping.  His bulging jowls hung like sad bean bags and seemed to amplify every disgusting sound.  She had an urge to punch him when she sat across from him, which is why she spent most meals standing or staying busy.

Her stomach burned but she reached for more coffee anyways.  She had a brief fantasy of turning and smashing the glass coffee carafe over his head.  The thought of him stunned and silent as he hit the ground made her smile.  She turned this little thought over and over in her head like a child with a new toy until he interrupted asking for more bacon and ricotta cheese scrambled eggs.  She filled his plate with as much food as would possibly fit on to it and added an unasked for piece of sourdough bread dripping with butter.  She stared at the plate and decided it wouldn’t be enough.  She then gritted her teeth as she pushed down on the scrambled eggs to make room for another scoop.  She laid it out before him and he smiled a big OH BOY! smile, patted her bottom, thanked her and dug in.  She walked to the sink and clutched her stomach as a sharp acidic burn squirmed and wormed its way deeper.

She thought of how hard she had fought for him after the affair; how she cried and yearned for him even after his betrayal.  She couldn’t stand the thought of those memories.  How pathetic, how weak she was to beg for him.  The worm in her stomach loved this thought.  She could feel it expand and wrap itself around her intestine squeezing it tightly.  She would never forgive herself for her weakness…..she would never forgive him either.  She didn’t understand that until he moved back in.  The day after they made love for the first time in six months she decided she would keep working to make him as unattractive and repulsive as she saw him.  She would feed him as many cakes, butter sauces, lamb shanks and beer as he could handle.  He would laugh, kiss her cheek and say, “Oh baby you are going to kill me with all of this but I can’t say no.  Man!  You have become quite the chef my dear, quite the chef.”  She would smile back and say, “I just love cooking for you honey.  I love you being happy” and then walk into the other room to wipe her mouth and the spittle he left on her cheek.

She heard a cough and then a gag.  She turned from the sink and looked at him as he seemed to choke.  He dropped his fork in a panic as she watched with glee over his left shoulder.  She could feel tentacles burst out from the worm and shoot through her veins and spinal column, it felt, delicious.  He then cleared his throat, took a long swig of coffee and reached for more bacon.  The worm thrashed furiously in disappointment.  She once again stared out the window and took another sip from her coffee.

A few minutes later he spoke, “That was wonderful honey.  You really outdid yourself on that one.  I tell you I cannot eat another bite.”   Her faced changed as she spun around to face him.  “Really dear?  I am so glad you liked it, now how about blue cheese stuffed pork chops for dinner when you get home?”  He smiled broadly at her “Baby, you spoil me.  I can’t wait to see you tonight.”  He put on his jacket and walked out the door.  She picked up her plate of untouched food and took a nibble of toast.  Immediately the worm squeezed her intestines until she spit it out.  Her little 98 pound frame wanted none of it.  She opened the fridge, pulled out four pork chops and un-wrapped them.  She felt the weight of the cold meat in her hands as she decided what to do with them.  “Cream” she thought, I am going to need some heavy whipping cream to mix with the blue cheese.  The worm spun circles with pleasure.  It was hungry.  It was always hungry.

Short Stories, Uncategorized | No Comments »

He could feel his legs tremble as he walked into the room.  He didn’t want to see what he knew would be waiting for him; his father weak, disabled, pale and fragile.  His mother was sitting next to him holding his hand.  She gently rocked back and forth as she stared lovingly at his face.  All of the strength of this once vital hulking man was gone and now he was nothing more than a wounded deer on the side of the road.  The world would zoom past and he would die.  He looked at his mother and she turned to him and smiled a deep and warm smile that struck a chord in his chest.  She was different.  Her nervous energy was gone or maybe it seemed to have finally found its purpose.  She was calm and beautiful.  She beckoned him closer but he couldn’t.  He was in the presence of something, something that held him in awe and also frightened him at the same time.  The room seemed to be filled with it, glowing with it and it had a weight that reminded him of the ocean.

“I have been waiting for this moment for 48 years” she said quietly to seemingly neither of us.  “He spent his whole life being strong, working hard, trying to do what was right, trying to take care of me and you and all the rest of it, that he never really let me love him.”  She turned to me, “Perhaps he felt love was weakness or wouldn’t allow him to face the day with strength….I don’t know.  I just knew it was my job to love him no matter what and some day, some day he would let me love him.”  She smiled her eyes aglow like sunlight – like home.  “Today is that day Charlie, today is that day.”

His mother spent the rest of the day whispering to him, singing quiet songs to him, holding his face in her hands….he was her beloved.  He never understood that word until that moment standing in the doorway.

His father died that night but it was not his death that kept him awake in the days to come because when he died he seemed content, full, at peace.  What kept him awake night after night was the thought,  what was it that kept him in the doorway that day?  What kept him from meeting his mother’s gaze, what kept him frightened of what clearly would not harm him?  As he walked out of the hospital exhausted and alone he dropped his keys as he went to open his car.  When he went to pick them up his legs began to tremble again and he slid to the ground like a drunk.  He looked out on the city as it lay sleeping and saw for the first time that he was still in the doorway…..always standing in the doorway.

Months later he had a dream.  He was at the hospital and his father was there sitting next to his mother, they both were staring lovingly at the bed.  His father beckoned him to enter but he could not move,  he was paralyzed.  He looked closely at the man in the bed and began to weep as he realized it was himself lying there.  He heard a voice calm and true that simply said, “My beloved….my beloved.”  He woke up in a cloud of tears, put on his clothes, opened the door of his apartment – stood quietly for a long moment – and walked out.   He drove out to the sea and bought a coffee at a bait and tackle shop.  As he sat watching the sunrise the small doors in his heart began to open and open and open.   This time when once again that gentle kind voice came to him wrapped in warmth and light and whispered, “My beloved”….he stepped out of the doorway and he was home.

Short Stories | 1 Comment »

For the next few weeks I am going to do a series of stories.  For some reason stories are all that are coming when I sit down to write so I decided to follow them.  I noticed a theme and decided to make a short story series of them.

The Guest Room

She paced back and forth in the guest room. She had had enough.   It wasn’t a fight with screaming and the digging up of old hurts that had sparked her anger, instead it was him sitting on the couch watching TV as she got ready to go. He was supposed to go with her as she hiked along the lake on the anniversary of her mother’s death but somehow he talked his way out of it with a smile and a joke. ….this was nothing new.  He said he was too behind at work to just stop what he was doing and head off into the woods.  He knew it was important to her but she finally saw clearly that what was more important was himself – his own needs and wants no matter how small. When faced with the seemingly simple choice of doing something small and important to her or satisfy his own selfish desires he would always chose his own.

In this tiny moment in the guest room she realized all of his shortcomings, all of his once endearing traits all seemed to conspire day after day to frustrate, exhaust and finally anger her. She had spent years using food, a glass of wine, or a forced smile with an assertion that he ‘meant well’ to get her through another day, but it worked no longer. There was a distance inside her now, one that could not be bridged.  What could she do, she always told herself, this was the guy she married. The thing was he didn’t hit her, wasn’t a drunk or a liar, didn’t demand she behave like a 50’s housewife; he was much more subtle than that. She had never seen it until today and now she realized he was like water on stones. He wore her out by consistent, constant pressure.  What seemed like a placid river on top was actually rubbing away on stone and dirt below -  scraping its way through.   She had wanted to travel, to visit her daughters more, to take day trips and see plays but at the end of  the day she would end up next to him on the couch watching a movie he had probably already seen.

She thought of the newspaper article about a section of the river people in town loved to swim at during the summer months. Every year 4 or 5 people would be confused by the rivers seemingly shallow calmness and before they knew it found themselves pulled under by the current and swept away. She walked across the floor to the table, looked in the mirror and she saw it. There was a valley cut through the center of her. She had never noticed it before, perhaps she had felt it from time to time but she always assumed it was just a case of the blues or melancholy but now there was no denying it’s presence…no denying its depth. She felt her chest and it felt wet…damp. He had run through her like he ran through everything else in his life and now years had been washed away like silt. She looked at the wrinkles on her face, the deep canyons across her forehead and cheek.   She wiped her tears, put on some fresh lip stick as she heard his voice calling her.    She was like a leaf that had been caught in an eddy for a few moments, she was calm and still but then a pull and she was gone.

Uncategorized | No Comments »

Thought is was really beautiful….enjoy.

Nuit Blanche from Spy Films on Vimeo.

Uncategorized | No Comments »

Hey everyone, I will be performing solo in Ashland, OR on THURSDAY, February 11th for The Hearth story tellers series. Seven of Ashland’s bravest community members get ten minutes to tell a true story of love without notes or memorization. Storytellers include Sam Alvord, Zoe Abel, Jeff Golden, Eve Smyth, Bobbi Kidder, and Frank Rogers. Hosted by Mark Yaconelli with music by Duane Whitcomb, Wendy Stanek, and Trent Yaconelli. 7 to 10 pm. Caldera Tap House on Water Street. Cost is $4 or 4 cans of food. $7 or 7 cans of food for couples. All proceeds go to Ashland Food Bank. Sponsored by The Hearth, Ashland’s new storytelling series. Click here for a better description of the event and details. This will be a one of a kind event so if you are in Southern Oregon or Siskiyou county area come on up. Seating is now very minimal. Please contact the link above for information on reserving a seat.

I don’t think my brother and I have done an event together since we did the Mark & Trent show on KSYC when we were 10 and 12. Should be fun. If you come out make sure you say hello and we will grab a beer. I will be performing some new material and Duane Whitcomb, an amazing violin player, will be joining me.  Duane played on Carry You Home which you can find below on the blog.  After the show I am heading up to the mountains to hang out with the family, have some down time, and do a little writing.  Hope to see some of you in Ashland.

Uncategorized | 4 Comments »

God: what are we doing here? This is boring. Lets run. Lets run so hard and so fast that our hearts beat in our throats and then let’s go to that diner on Hwy 12 and order a giant breakfast with eggs and sausage and ham. Then when we are stuffed with coffee and food lets hike up Sugarloaf and sit in the quiet of the trees and watch the world spin and spin and spin.
Trent: Now!? Right Now? The guy is in a heated talk about –
God: About what?  Honestly do you know what he is talking about? He lost me once he started quoting Deuteronomy. I mean look at the guy all red faced. I’ve never met this guy in my life.
Trent: would you keep it down?!? People are starting to look. Maybe he is just getting started, maybe the next part is going to be really good.
God: Ummmm, let me answer that right now, “No.”    It isn’t going to get better in fact it is going to go a bit like this, “bla bla bla FEAR! bla bla bla BE GOOD or God WON’T LOVE YOU! bla bla bla Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!  bla bla bla AND Pass the giving basket.”  TA DA! I just saved you an hour and half of your life. Can we go now?
Trent: You know I came here looking for you. I thought you would be happy that I showed up.
God: Can I tell you a little secret? Somehow everybody misses this…..but if you only look for me in Church then you don’t notice me everywhere and in everything else. You box your experience of me into these very stiff four walls and you box my words in the mouth of this guy…..this red faced-spittle-flying-guy…..whom I LOVE but maybe not so much when he is making that face.   I am a bit bigger than that….if you will let me. Do you understand? Can we go? Lets run!”
Trent: uhhhhh…..ok but this doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.   Isn’t it at the very least impolite to just get up and leave?
God: Polite?  Politeness is for the weak of heart and uninspired.   Plus…..What could go wrong?  I am frigging God……and I am buying.

Uncategorized | 4 Comments »

Could the moment of our demolition be the beginning of our renovation? Could the moments that tear us down to our very foundation, the moments that rock us to our core be a chance to rebuild ourselves closer to who we actually are?

The trash is gone

The wasted words and distractions are cried out

The false fantasies of what or who you wanted to be lie smoldering

The wasted walls and rotten floor boards are all torn down and in the rubble is a very real gift to begin again….refreshed.  To build again but now to build a home of windows and light.  One that lets the day and night wash through and each with a gift.

I know life has been hard on you.  I know it hurts.  But if you want to live, not just get by in this life than you need to let go of what was and embrace what is and start again.  All of us, All Of Us, will be gone all too soon enough (Haiti teaches us that) so lets make the brief moments we have here mean something.  I don’t mean that in the sense of adding more success or things to the world but instead adding and breathing in more beauty, love and awe into the world.  In the midst of the ashes and ruins is a gift, it is yours to find.

Uncategorized | No Comments »

The holiday season always seems to move fast. I ventured out to get a few last minute gifts and almost was killed several times, sometimes just by someone glaring at me. Yes people cut each other off, get pissed when the line is too long, or take out their frustration on some poor minimum wage clerk but also how do we treat ourselves? As we close in on Christmas how about we all go easy on ourselves this year? I know it is stressful and sometimes it can be hard to be around the family or relatives we don’t especially like all that much. Maybe, you have had a hard year and you already sense that you will feel a deep sense of absence this year. I remember after losing a loved one the sight of an empty chair made my eyes well up during the holidays. So lets go easy on ourselves. Lets not try so hard to be perfect for Mom or Dad, Lets not get angry or upset at the people we love who are not matching up to how we would like them to be, lets accept things as they come even if they do not come as planned, lets forgive and then forgive again if needed the critical comment that always seems to show up during dinner, lets welcome in some of the sadness that we feel about those not there – instead of pushing it aside lets raise a glass to their memory and tell some stories – basically lets hold things lightly. Rumi says it best when he says:

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting
and expanding,
The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.

So hold everything lightly this season….the criticism…the sadness……your perfectionism…your disappointment…etc. It is only when we cling or take a harsh moment or comment and dwell on it do we begin to spiral down into anger and hostility. When we cling we miss the very real joy, wonder and happiness occurring around us.

Enjoy fully the gifts you have in your life and pay no attention to what isn’t but to what is. These moments when we see loved ones around the dinner table will not always be. Enjoy the sounds of children playing even if they are knocking over the furniture and ruining their Christmas sweater. Enjoy the embrace of your Grandfather, for how many winters will he continue to be here. Enjoy the loving gaze of your wife from across the room while she sits through another painfully long story by your Uncle Charles. See the things that annoy or bother you for what they are, distractions that keep you from enjoying the moment. And when finally all the noise has quieted, the guests are gone, and the kids are asleep take a moment by yourself or with your partner….stare at the tree or the fire….and run through all that you are grateful for. Let a prayer of gratitude rise up from your chest and then gently let it go.

My prayer for you…and for me….is to hold all lightly this holiday season….allowing each moment to be fully noticed, even the hard ones, while letting all the strings that tangle us up to pass by.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Blessings.

Uncategorized | No Comments »

She has secrets; that he can see even behind her knit black cap and black jacket. She stares at the people in line as they sit across from each other sipping coffee at a busy outdoor cafe. She’s a quiet sort of girl – quiet and shy of attention. He knows this won’t last, he knows that at some point he will be gone and she will become another girl that he can’t quite remember. But for now, for right now, he is surprised to discover that he loves her.   As he explores this new found feeling he is  further shocked to find it is not because she is amazing and not because she is stunningly beautiful but simply because she is the girl right in front of him.

The long night and short restless sleep has left him defenseless. He feels raw and unguarded but also closer to who he really is.   She is the gift given to him on this particular morning. Out of all of the possibilities, the universe had chosen them for this place, with this strong coffee, on this cold day.

The way she moved her hand trying to hide the small scar on her cheek.

The longing her eyes betrayed when she noticed him watching.

The softness of her voice when she spoke of her childhood home.

For these reasons and more he realizes he loves her. No, this would not be an epic tale of love told by Irish authors years from now, but it is enough and when is anything in this life simply enough? How many times do we feel the very moment we are in is complete and perfectly beautiful?    He neither yearns nor wants for anything, only to sit here with this quiet girl and watch the world turn.    He begins to imagine them living in a small cabin on a rugged coast with candles and a woodstove.   They would speak very little and make love often as the waves crashed against the cliffs. This makes him happy.

Something was coming alive for him and nothing had happened to set it off; no magic, no self discovery just lack of sleep and too much alcohol the night before. But here he was becoming conscious of the fact that when his legs could run no more there was only peace, there was only depth, there was only life but somehow more vivid.

The sun emerges from behind an evergreen and she pulls off her hat, closes her eyes and lets it warm her face. She says without looking at him “This is perfect isn’t it?” His heart begins to swell and he knows he can’t stop it and for the first time in his life he doesn’t want to.  His eyes well up as he smiles broadly, “yes – yes it is.”

Uncategorized | No Comments »

The Holidays are here and beneath them is this underlying tension we all have about what we are going to do, how we are going to decorate our house, who will we celebrate with, what will the family dinner be like, should we discuss politics, should we not invite certain people, what church or synagogue will we go to etc….etc….etc.   These things we all find so important because each says something about what we believe; do we have a tree or nativity or both, do we have a Menorah and Santa Claus?  What Church do I go to on Christmas Sunday?  What if it is too liberal or too conservative?  How can I express my views on gay marriage during Christmas dinner if my Uncle starts in again?  There are millions of other issues that we all get caught up in but what it comes down to is  we are very very concerned about What We Believe and What the Other-side Believes.  The other-side is anyone who disagrees with us.   We are very big on “belief” in our country.  Our televisions are filled with people arguing over what they believe as opposed to what someone else believes.  Each person screaming how their beliefs are better, more patriotic, more spiritual, more intelligent, more honorable…etc.  Do you know what I think of that?  Who gives a shit.    The thing is I have always seen this as a trap.  Once you start equating symbols as reflecting what you believe you start judging others by theirs or lack of.   I don’t care about your tree, Menorah, gifts, super Nativity or lack of all mentioned what I care about is your actions.  Our actions are what have been lost these days.  We are all so concerned with who is on our side or what article I can use to discredit the other that we have lost sight of what our beliefs USED to mean.  It used to mean something when you called yourself a Christian.  It meant you were trying….trying….to follow the lessons and life of Christ.  Now it means having a 40,000 watt nativity scene on your lawn.  You see I don’t care what you call yourself, I don’t care what you say you believe, I only care about What.  You.  Do.  If you are a person of faith….any faith….do your actions point to the one you proclaim to “believe” in or follow?

In an essay by Sister Helen Prejean her opening line  is “I watch what I do to see what I believe.”  What a beautiful way to live your life but also what a great way to keep yourself honest in life.   I have met “holy people” who made my skin crawl and so called “godless” who offered up their time, labor, home and heart without a thought.    Given the choice between the bar and the church in my life I have always chosen the bar because I felt people were more honest about who they were there.

We don’t watch what we do enough in life, we get too caught up in what we believe.  What would happen if people really paid attention to see if their actions really matched up with “love they neighbor as thy self”?  What about loving your enemy?  Not easy is it but that is why Grace is so radical, that is why the message of Jesus was so radical, that is why the message of any spiritual teacher like Rumi or Buddha or Lao Tzu because they spoke of a WAY of living….the spoke of the WAY.  They didn’t give a list of “beliefs” and say “here believe all of this and your in,” they spoke of ways of living, ways of opening your heart, ways of forgiving,  ways of loving kindness.

So here is my Christmas, holiday,  Hanukkah, festivus suggestion.  Pay less attention to your beliefs this season, pay more attention to your actions and see what that tells you about your beliefs.  Did you spend massive amounts of money on too many gifts?  Were you consumed with what is the latest and greatest new gadget and how could you get it?  Did you get pissed off if someone said Happy Holiday instead of Merry Christmas?  Did you help the less fortunate?  Where you kind even when it was hard to be kind?  Were you compassionate to even those who don’t believe as you do?   Did you give of yourself, your time or money quietly and anonymously without need of recognition? How about you and I proclaim through our actions what we are all about, what our families are about, and what our God is all about.    Let your actions point the way to what you believe.  We change nothing by loudly proclaiming our “beliefs”, we change everything….including our own hearts and the hearts of strangers by what we do.

Uncategorized | 8 Comments »

I recently came upon this: On his death bed St. Francis said, “I have done what was mine to do; now you must do what is yours to do.”

So many of us  concentrate on what we think we should be doing, what we think others feel we should be doing or what our culture in various ways tells us we should be doing or should have already  done.  But St. Francis comes at it a different way.  He says, you must do what is yours to do.  There is no comment about following the bible or his teaching; he simply says you must do what is yours to do. We might not like it, we might want what someone else has to do but that is the truth of it.  If we are single Mom with two kids our job is to raise our children the best we can with every breath we take.  It is not easy or glamorous but it is ours to do.   If we have a fairly solitary life but feel the tug on our heart to step in and help out after work with our neighbors, volunteer clinic or church maybe that is what is ours to do.  I don’t know, only you do but I can tell you, you have been given something that is only for you to do in this world.  It might not be what you wanted or it might not be as “sexy” as you thought it would be but it is yours and I believe once you embrace it instead of being afraid of it you will find a lightness and contentment that you haven’t known.  So many people I run into in the bars and clubs I play talk of being lost and confused about how they blinked and suddenly found themselves with a mortgage and a job they hate….I think that is what happens when you miss what is yours to do.  I think you get in a routine of getting up going to work, watching football on the weekends, and counting the days until retirement.  Your life becomes about passing the time or getting through the day.

I think the second part of this is we are all guilty of idolizing in this country and by doing so we set ourselves up to fail and never really go after what is ours.    The bible speaks of false idols and we all think of a golden calf or some strange alter to Zeus but what about others?  What about Hollywood, actors, sport stars and talk show hosts?  Notice the magazines by the check out counter and how we cannot take our eyes of off mega stars?  Notice how we spend hours and hours watching analysis of Tiger Woods driving his car into a tree? Those are the false idols we deal with today.  The deeper message of not worshipping false idols is you miss what is yours to do, you miss your own life, you miss the chance that God gave you to truly live.  We have teams of young girls trying to be Hannah Montana (while she is trying to be the next Britney or Madonna) instead of being guided to find their own voice, their own beauty, and their own gifts to bring to the world.  We need to start listening and focusing our attention inward.

So what is it and how do you find it?  Luckily St. Francis gave us a hint on that also.  He spoke of going about your days and paying close attention……paying close attention to the moments you feel most alive and then, he says, do that.  Doesn’t seem like rocket science but try and do it for a day.  With the amount of distractions we all have dancing around our heads it is actually hard to clear the space to listen.  I can tell you for me where I feel alive is music, writing, being a good father and husband.  I didn’t get the stadium success I wanted and sometimes I would rather be somewhere else than dealing with my kids when they are freaking out but it is mine to do.   And when I embrace that I have joy in my life.  Yes there are moments that are hard, when everything goes wrong, when life seems unfair but I also have the peaks when I have a fantastic show, when I am hiking with my boys laughing and running.   I don’t know what the big picture is but I trust that if I continue to do what is mine, God will continue to work in me.  So let’s look at things differently today; Lets go about the world paying attention to where we feel alive and lets trust that God has placed in your heart a whisper that pulls you to what is yours to do.  Your job is to find, embrace it and let it carry you home.

Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

I turned the corner on to my street and something caught fire in me,  I needed to push my body as fast as it could go.  My legs stretched out before me and the world got quiet.  I could hear only my breath as I struggled to break through.  To break through what,  I don’t know.   Maybe I needed to run fast just to show myself I still could.   I passed my house and finally slowed to a stop. I walked past my house and looked through the windows.  My kids were asleep, a single light lit where my wife was quietly working on her painting.   I have always loved those moments when all is quiet and I am just an observer.  Seeing my house peaceful and still makes me smile.  I walk further down the block and sit down to stare up at the moon and steal a little more silence for myself.   As I sat on the curb panting, feeling the cool air,  I notice voices drifting through the air.  They rise then lower, then rise again but I can make nothing out.  One of my neighbors who spends all of his time in his garage avoiding his wife passes by me with a friendly, “howdy” as he walks his dog for the fourth time today.  I wonder if his marriage and life is really that bad.  I have watched his garage expand with a couch, then TV, then weight room, then hobby table, then dog bed/play area and now circling back to bigger LCD TV. Maybe a twin size bed is next followed by a queen size.  It is interesting to me that so many of us spend so much time working on our outside as our insides rot.  The further his marriage disintegrates the better physical shape he is in.

The words that were drifting through the air are now louder and rushing to my ears.  It is a young couple who recently moved into a rental.  She is pleading and accusing at the same time, “Do you remember!?  Do you?” There is a long silence and I picture him saying nothing as he sits on the couch and she paces back and forth.  ”Do you remember all the things you said to me?  Do you remember the promises you made to me!  DO YOU!”  There is some mumbling.  Whatever she wants from him, he cannot give.  At least that is clear to me as I sit in the audience quietly listening.  I feel sorry for her.  She is angry, hurt, madly in love, yearning, pushing and pulling all at the same time.  She doesn’t realize yet that it is too late to get things back to how she wanted them.  She doesn’t realize yet that those beautiful things he said to her he probably meant at the time but he made a mistake…..or maybe things just changed.  They can’t go back to the beginning, they can’t go back to the nights of long talks over wine and making love until morning.  Those times were beautiful but we can’t stay forever in those places….people change….love cannot be stagnant, love changes or dies.

He emerges from the house with keys in hand, walking slowly towards his car.  The door opens and she is now rushing out after him, “What are you doing?”
He stops in the street and turns to her, “I’m leaving, you told me to leave.” He is quiet when he speaks and seems sad and confused.
“I know but….I didn’t think you would.”
“What do you want? I don’t know what you want from me. I’m trying, but I don’t know what you want. I’m trying. I am trying.”
They stand in the middle of the street;  him looking confused, her pacing and occasionally biting her fingernail.
“I want.    I want you to keep trying…….Its cold out here……I want you to come back inside.”
“Ok.”

He slides his keys back in his pocket and they walk back to their house with her in the lead.   As she opens the door I see him with a bowed head, place his hand on her back as she walks in.    She stops to enjoy the warmth of his hand on her back for just a moment more and then walks in.   I feel somehow lucky to have seen this;  the drama of life spinning out in front of me, these tiny moments of heartache, grace and redemption.   As the night returns to its silence I stare back up at the moon and I think of God watching us from above.   I suddenly realize that he, just like me, would love to step in to change things, to help, but he knows just as I did watching that couple that their drama had to be played out.    No wisdom I could have imparted would have helped or been heard. They needed to feel love deeply and joyfully, take it for granted, damage it, revive it, fight for it and finally learn to nurture and care for it.   Who knows what is in store for that young couple…..maybe they will make it, maybe they won’t.  The moment that mattered, the moment that matters to love and God the most is the moment when we say, “I’m trying.”    We might fail and fall over and over again but the words “I’m trying.   I’m doing the best I can.” are the words we must keep deep in our hearts.  Because if we don’t we might as well quit right now, we might as well move our hearts out of our soul and into the garage. You don’t need to be a saint.     You don’t need to be the cutest couple or parent of the year. You don’t need to have the perfect house or the perfect marriage.   You don’t need to be the best at anything.  You simply need to try and to keep trying. No matter how lost or alone you feel the only prayer you need, the only prayer God yearns for is, “I’m trying lord…..I’m trying.”

Uncategorized, faith, spirituality | No Comments »

My wife and I sit across from each other in Penny’s Diner in Dunsmuir. Our kids are happily shoveling pancakes in their mouths as they simultaneously drive their toy trucks through the syrup and up their sleeves. We had been driving through the night to take the kids to the snow and to give me some time to write but the snow got too anxious and decided to come down the mountain and meet us. Like a playful cat it batted our little Honda around until we finally wised up, pulled over, and checked into a hotel.

Six hours later the kid’s steam engine bodies are excited by fresh snow and needing fuel. My wife is staring at me intently with a willow of a smile as I take off my hat springing my hair to jump for the ceiling as I rub my eyes.

She likes the grey in my whiskers.

I guess I should be grateful but something in me is disappointed. I put down my hat and reach for my coffee. “Really?” I say. “yaaa,” she nods. I had just played a show the night before we left, “but what about when I am in my rock n roll clothes, hair slicked, sweat pouring from my face, black leather shoes pounding the stage? Lots of girls find that sexy.” She laughs and shakes her head no. “Really?” I repeat. “Yep, oh and I also like it when you climb trees. You are beautiful when you climb trees.”

My head pulls my hands up and I can’t stop rubbing my forehead. How can this be true? I look old and haggard like a trucker with a long way to go and a short time to get there. Hair unwashed, eyes sore from being up late then up early with the kids. I am cold, hungry and about an inch away from throwing Easton’s toy truck if he drives his syrup mobile one more time across my ear.   This is what she loves? This?   Easton begins to lick the snow off of his boot as Wilder tries to see if he can get his entire hand in a small glass of water (And by the way, yes we can all rest easy, he proved it can be done).    “Boys, lets let your father have a moment to finish his coffee and breakfast,” she says as she zips them up in puffy swollen jackets.    In a moment the diner is empty as she leaves and the cook/hotel clerk tells me he is going outside to snow plow the parking lot.

I sit staring out the window through the trees watching the cars on the highway as they move like dogs on tile. I wonder what it is that makes us push away and turn our head when faced with accepting love. Why are we all so skeptical when grace is offered so readily? There is a casualness – a wonderful absurdity in Grace that it seems we all are a bit disappointed in. We seem to think there must be something wrong with it to embrace us so completely without a care for gray hair or scars or hidden shame. Maybe this is why we turn to religion because so much of it seems to appeal to the places inside us that finds grace so unsettling. We want something to tell us it is not so easy to get. We nod our heads in agreement when religion speaks to us saying, “Grace does not come easy, you have to earn it and here is a list of things you must believe, say, and pretend to be to get it.”

The snow seems to be getting bored and begins to wonder off. I think to myself, maybe it is our need to believe in something sterner- less accepting that actually leads to our disbelief – our disappointment. We finally get so lost and exhausted jumping through ever shrinking hoops that we wander away. Maybe we all have a little Groucho Marx in us that says, “I will not be a part of any Club that would have me as a member.” I hope God is a patient God who is only waiting for us to fall down in a heep unable to fight or run away…..waiting for the chance to pick us up and hold us close.

The trucks and cars are now once again confident in their direction and purpose and begin to stream up the highway. The snow has gone back home to the mountains and awaits our arrival. I pick up my hat, drink a half a cup of coffee in one gulp, and walk to the door. As I put on my gloves before stepping out to the cold I see my children jumping in the snow. My wife’s loving gaze watching over them. She senses my stare and turns to me and looks at me with the brightness of a face of one who has not seen their beloved for a long time. She opens her arms wide and sticks out her tongue to catch the last of a few falling flakes. She then stretches her arms towards me and beckons me to her laughing. Something in me breaks like ice against a bridge and I feel this river inside of me begging to be let go. I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. Grace is absurd – beautiful and absurd. I let go of my disappointment, my doubt, my skepticism, and fear and open the door.

Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

I can see it there.  Hiding in the corner.  I finish washing the dishes in the sink and then turn to look at it.  I can see it’s big eyes staring back at me and when our eyes meet I well up with deep tears.   My shaky voice stammers “Not now, ” and then I walk outside to the garage to fix my son’s bike.

This grief has been trailing me for awhile.  It started out as a draft or push of air and when I felt it I walked the other way or shut the window in my chest.  About a week ago I awoke in the middle of the night and felt its presence like one feels the weather about to change.  I sat up and felt a deep,  almost sick feeling in my stomach.  I searched the room and found only grief’s shadow flickering against the wall, “not now” I whispered and rolled over in my bed.

Now as I walk the hallway of my house I see him more clearly as the days past.  Sometimes I find him huddled in the corner staring back at me, sometimes I find him sitting next to me as I drive to work and recently I woke to find him laying next to me.  I screamed at him to leave, “NOT NOW!” I shouted and he scurried out of my bed back into the corner pulling his legs up tight.  I put my hand on the pillow where he had laid and feel the damp salty water.

It was 4 a.m. and I couldn’t sleep.  I tossed and turned trying desperately to quiet my mind.  It felt as if I had a hot ember in my throat that I was too afraid to swallow and too afraid to bring up so it stayed there burning.  I could sense the amount of effort my body spent on trying to stay in this “middle place” this grey burning…..it was time we spoke.  I sat up, “are you there” I whispered.  ”Yes” said Grief.  ”What is it you wanted to show me?” I said.  He stands and then sits next to me in bed.  He is a liquid figure with nothing I can really make out except his eyes and he smells of the sea.  He begins to hang memories like pictures on a wall but in the air in front of me.  They dance with light, movement, sound and emotions.  We sit and watch these memories laughing, crying and sometimes in quiet reverence.  Finally the memories fade back  into the night and there is only one picture left hanging, the one of those I have lost.  They smile at me as light burns in their eyes and fingers.

Grief speaks, “Do you see it?”  ”Do I see what” I reply.  ”Do you SEE it?” Grief says calmly.  ”No…..I don’t…..I’m sorry.”  Grief blows a cloud of fog from his mouth the fog reveals a river running through them…..running through them and into me.  I see all the love they poured from their hearts running through mine and then through my wife, my children, my brothers, my sisters, my friends, my music…..my life.

“Do you see it now?” says Grief.
Yes.
“Why do you try so hard trying not to look at the love given to you?  Why do you try so hard not to look at me?  It is the reminder of love that I bring, a love that is not gone.”

“Because I hurt, I miss, I long and the tears won’t stop.”  I reply.
“Yes I know, I am the one who brings the tears.  Even in your longing there is love.  Your tears add to this river between you, they don’t take away.  Yes, the are not here but they are not gone, they are just…..hmmmmm……how can I explain it to you…AH!!!…..It is like cosmic peek-a-boo.  Have you ever played or seen a toddler play peek-a-boo?  The parent pulls up a blanket covering their face and the child is confused and suddenly sad, ‘where did my Dad go?’ then the parent lets the blanket fall and the child is delighted beyond measure.  MY Father has RETURNED! their face shines with glee.  But he was never really gone was he?  It seems silly to us that the child ever thought they were gone but we are no different.  This is just  a bigger game of peek-a-boo.  You tears and sadness are real but at some point the blanket of night and stars will fall and you will see your beloved again.”

I could feel a weight lifting from my chest, “Are we done?” I say to grief.
“Yes” he replies as he opens the window in my room and climbs out, “for now”.

Everything we try and hold on to so we don’t hurt only causes more hurt. It is only in the surrender that we overcome. How does that make sense you might say. I need to surrender in order to win, to get over, to move past? That doesn’t make sense. The thing I am trying to defeat I must surrender to? The thing I am trying to push with all my might away away away from me I must embrace? This makes no sense. No, I understand that it does not but the rain falls on us all does it not? What would you say if you saw a person standing in a field swinging a sword at the rain trying to get it to retreat, or swinging their fists as the drops fall or thinking that curling up in a ball will stop them from getting wet. The rain falls on us all. Put down your sword, unclench your fist, put away your maps detailing how you will avoid the rain and let the rain wash you clean.

Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

I listen to the sound of waves crashing outside
I cannot sleep with such beauty so close to my door
I open the window and breathe deep the sea air

My feet can stand it no longer and carry me down the stone steps
Across the aching grass to the sand
I reach the sea and find her starring back at me
With eyes of green and fog

She looks at me with longing
She cannot sleep with such beauty at her shore
The sea air I breathed in now opens a window in my chest
The ocean calms and listens
Listens to the sound of waves crashing inside of me

Uncategorized | No Comments »