Saturday, April 29, 2006


Thank you to all the well-wishers and friends who have left supportive comments on my journal and encouraging emails in my inbox. I have just now read the comments of the last week or two, but not your emails. I don't share this to be rude, but honest. I will read your kind words and reply. I do not know when I will read my emails.

I think the greatest difficulty with the word 'when' is its implied inevitibility. The only other possibility of 'when' is never, if not a particular time. Never is a foolish word. There are few things in this world that are never going to happen.

When will I return to posting? When will I return to reading my bible? When will I begin writing reflections in my journal? When will I pray? When will I stop being selfish and living as I want to live, not as God wants me to live? When will I have the strength to be the man God calls me to be? When will I find the courage to forge my way into a new career? When will I stop hiding from my friends and family? When will I finally call my parents and my grandmother? When will I stop lying to myself and faking my low utterings and latent anger? When?

When the courage to take action is greater than my pride. When I extend my hand to humility, not ignorance. When I am driven by neccessity.When the guilt I feel for pouting like a two year old suffocates and breaks my will. When?

The other problem with 'when' is that the truth of any situation requires us to answer 'when' with utmost reverence. 'When' is a binding contract. We commit to a moment when we answer 'when.' The answer to my 'when' should be 'now,' should be 'right now.' 'When' is an oath, 'when' is a mirror that we either break in reckless abandon or stare into with resolve, or fear. So, when?

I started this entry with the intention of saying I am away, gone away and I fly from what I know is right to hide and lick my wounds. I tried to write my goodbye and I tried to justify it with 'when.' I'm a liar. I can't say goodbye, but I'm too prideful to say hello and I'm sorry.

When is inevitable. I'm laughing at myself, typing here, because the simple answer is now. Now is the time to be me and ride on a sunbeam to light and happiness. I am crying a bit, now, because now means I'm here and back, when I wanted to leave. Free.

This is a strange entry, I know, but in being ready to leave I find I'm ready to stay.

Time to play some golf, pay the bills, and maybe watch the Yanks on T.V. When? Now.

Thanks. I'm sorry.