Friday, November 11, 2011

Fractels of Faith

I am in the bedroom waiting for my wife to come in from putting our daughter to bed for the night. The house is quiet. The room is silent. The double doors leading to the master bathroom are opened, the Jacuzzi, staring back at me, hasn’t been used in some time, but it does serve the occasional purpose of romance, lined with white candles with plenty of wick left to burn the midnight oil with, when everything is just right with the world. The bedroom door is also opened, revealing the kitchen dimly lit by the hanging light above the family table. I am reminded of all the good and bad times spent at this table and a half-assed smile comes to my face. Much has happened in this house over the last five years that has shaped me as both a person and a husband. I have absorbed the role of father nicely, I think, and continue to frown upon the image looking back at me in the mirror each time I try to shave the growth from my face. Even now as I write this, I am reminded by past events which shaped my family circle from the warped and jagged pieces of old into the nearly complete cog in the wheel of life that spins slowly around now. It feels…nice, when all is still and quiet. It feels right, when no one has anything to say to the other. If I close my eyes and try hard enough, the chill is removed from the air and replaced with a gentle warmth that envelopes me like a nice unseen blanket. During this moment, a distant unfamiliar voice whispers to my soul, "See, I told you so." and though I am not sure what this means, I still like to think I know. I would like to think that it means that no matter how bad things may get, at the end of the day, when the house falls silent and the ruckus of the day settles, the reason why I did those things I did in the past and all those things I am likely to do in the future were done because of this-whatever this is. And that is where I find you, the intangible God whom speaks to me, even when I am not listening.
Things have been rough going, this much is true, yet they tend to calm as any storm does when it loses all of its charge. I am sure many of you already know this, but it still feels as though I have cracked the Davinci Code whenever I have this type of revelation myself. I am sure I have been told this, by someone at some point in time, and never listened. It's the ole "You'll understand one day." threat we have all been handed down by our parents. And, like my mother before me, I will pass it down to my daughter one day and she too will scoff as I did; but, she will see, just you wait, one day. It will all become clear. I guess I just hate myself a little for wasting so many years on insignificant bullshit. My god, think about the opportunities I missed out on, because I had to walk in my mother's shoes. I have to wonder if there is not some kind of celestial jigsaw puzzle whose missing link is not given to us until we take that last breath of air, which might account for why so many people have this sudden look of consternation at that final moment. The deathly AH-HA! So many loved ones never get the chance to pass on to anyone. Tricky, tricky.
 I can admit with some humility that I lost you, there for a minute. Maybe I forgot how to believe. Maybe something inside me, a demon if you wish to blame my own ignorance on something other than myself, told me that my time was better spent on the things I can see, touch or feel. Maybe it was something as trivial as peer pressure that distracted me from you. Whatever the case, I connected with you tonight. Maybe not in the traditional sense, or even in the sense I am supposed to, but it was something I deem important and godly and powerful enough to share here with my peers. I might not be that dedicated sheep my religion demands of me…but I am getting back to why I believed in the first place and that is what means the most to me…and you…I think.


  1. And there you go, man.

    A little piece of peace.

    Wouldn't mind some of that myself now and again.

  2. Something messed up in the coding and the left margin goes off the edge.

    "...though I have cracked the Davinci Code whenever I have this type of revelation myself. I am sure I have been told this, by someone at some point in time, and never listened."

    Some things in life are like that. You hear people say things, but it doesn't mean squat until you experience it for yourself.