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HOPE AT SECOND CHANCES
HOPE
I waved to my opportunities as they passed me on troubled waters. All my focus was on my deterred, addictive and lost life. The desire of my heart was to do good and be better, but instead I became a child who accepted life for the way it was as I struggled through the tendency of my youthful life.
My parents were not unusual nor were they perfect. It was hard looking at my father who claimed he was a Christian but yet did things any non-Christian would do. The voice of a furious and abusive father, the mornings of a tired mother and the bitterness of dissuaded siblings was the unrelenting reality of most of my childhood days. When I was old enough to reason, I was convinced that growing up in a Christian home was the most substandard, inadequate and deficient life for a stripling to become someone worthy.
I was so angry at myself. When I looked into the mirror, I did not recognize the person I saw for I had changed. I had changed to accepting that this was my reality and I dissuaded the notion of a normal and better life. That was when I started falling short.
My knees became bounded in fair, I lost my aspiration in everything and the power to speak was no longer at my command. All I had was a man called anger who took me to the peak of Mount Everest then drop me to battle my way down. While falling face down, loneness and fair overtook my body. I became a silent crier, an aimless fighter and a victim of bullies. With my emotions shrouded in silence as it burned like a furnace inside of me, my family saw me become a child of few word. Within my heart was hurting, tears were there to wipe and anger was there to calm. I saw the reflection of my father in me. I had no one to talk with; no one to understand my pains. By the time I was fifteen everything became worse. I was so tired of life, so lost and confused. It was too much for one person to bear.
One tragic development after another and my life was beyond my control. I blasted off at everything. I stopped asking God for help because it always seemed as though my prayers were left at the top of the mountain. I started doing thing I was told as a child not to do. I began having friends; friends I had wanted to keep so I did as they said. I began pleasing them without contemplating. I was no longer being bullied; I became the bully. I was that bully that got back at those who bullied me. I smoked to fit in. I became a drug addicted to keep my friends.
My parents never understood why I did so many wrongs. I was sixteen, abused by my father, condemned by my siblings and prayed for by my mom. I no longer worried about the cares of life and having a family. I was enjoying life. I was being treated like someone worthy. I was proud of myself to the extent that no matter what I was told, it became a blank bullet.
I was far gone. I was moving like a mighty storm wind. By the time the wind was calm I was kicked out of school, my family looked upon me as a reject and I was cut off from all thing pleasant. It was in that moment that I searched myself. I didn’t have money to keep up with my friends. I needed to win my family’s trust again.
A few days later I heard the most aggressive argument between my parents. I went over to check on what was wrong. I saw suitcases packed and tears in my mother’s eyes as she begged my father not to go. I realize I was so caught up in my own life that my home was falling to pieces and I did not notice. I thought it was all my fault.
My hands became lifeless and I found myself talking to God. I never asked for forgiveness, instead, I complained and questioned. Am I the reason for what is happening? Why me and not my friends? Didn’t I help myself? I was purposely asking these questions knowing that I conducted myself and made my decisions without God to direct my path. With my body becoming weakened, my motor neurons send one last message to my brain. The life that I thought was a mess was just a test of diverse temptation. I never understood until now that I disappointed my family yet they loved me for who I was.
Should I blame God? Should I blame my family? Should I blame my friends? Or am I to be blame for my actions; actions that I regret? I had a choice. I could have chosen my battle; a battle which my God would had fought for me, but instead I fought and lost to suicide.
As I look, there is a narrow, bumpy, dark and broken path. Straight beyond there is a beautiful unexplainable view I will never see. I now know why my mother is still praying even though she is on troubled water. If I had allowed myself to choose my battle right, I know I would have raised higher than that mountain top, but instead, I quit half way and fell.
You see, the hope in my heart was to serve God and make my parents proud but the desperation in my mind made me want to be part of the crowd. With a suicidal mind, there is no hope. With hope there are second chances, make use of it! Hope!
© tburrowes
I waved to my opportunities as they passed me on troubled waters. All my focus was on my deterred, addictive and lost life. The desire of my heart was to do good and be better, but instead I became a child who accepted life for the way it was as I struggled through the tendency of my youthful life.
My parents were not unusual nor were they perfect. It was hard looking at my father who claimed he was a Christian but yet did things any non-Christian would do. The voice of a furious and abusive father, the mornings of a tired mother and the bitterness of dissuaded siblings was the unrelenting reality of most of my childhood days. When I was old enough to reason, I was convinced that growing up in a Christian home was the most substandard, inadequate and deficient life for a stripling to become someone worthy.
I was so angry at myself. When I looked into the mirror, I did not recognize the person I saw for I had changed. I had changed to accepting that this was my reality and I dissuaded the notion of a normal and better life. That was when I started falling short.
My knees became bounded in fair, I lost my aspiration in everything and the power to speak was no longer at my command. All I had was a man called anger who took me to the peak of Mount Everest then drop me to battle my way down. While falling face down, loneness and fair overtook my body. I became a silent crier, an aimless fighter and a victim of bullies. With my emotions shrouded in silence as it burned like a furnace inside of me, my family saw me become a child of few word. Within my heart was hurting, tears were there to wipe and anger was there to calm. I saw the reflection of my father in me. I had no one to talk with; no one to understand my pains. By the time I was fifteen everything became worse. I was so tired of life, so lost and confused. It was too much for one person to bear.
One tragic development after another and my life was beyond my control. I blasted off at everything. I stopped asking God for help because it always seemed as though my prayers were left at the top of the mountain. I started doing thing I was told as a child not to do. I began having friends; friends I had wanted to keep so I did as they said. I began pleasing them without contemplating. I was no longer being bullied; I became the bully. I was that bully that got back at those who bullied me. I smoked to fit in. I became a drug addicted to keep my friends.
My parents never understood why I did so many wrongs. I was sixteen, abused by my father, condemned by my siblings and prayed for by my mom. I no longer worried about the cares of life and having a family. I was enjoying life. I was being treated like someone worthy. I was proud of myself to the extent that no matter what I was told, it became a blank bullet.
I was far gone. I was moving like a mighty storm wind. By the time the wind was calm I was kicked out of school, my family looked upon me as a reject and I was cut off from all thing pleasant. It was in that moment that I searched myself. I didn’t have money to keep up with my friends. I needed to win my family’s trust again.
A few days later I heard the most aggressive argument between my parents. I went over to check on what was wrong. I saw suitcases packed and tears in my mother’s eyes as she begged my father not to go. I realize I was so caught up in my own life that my home was falling to pieces and I did not notice. I thought it was all my fault.
My hands became lifeless and I found myself talking to God. I never asked for forgiveness, instead, I complained and questioned. Am I the reason for what is happening? Why me and not my friends? Didn’t I help myself? I was purposely asking these questions knowing that I conducted myself and made my decisions without God to direct my path. With my body becoming weakened, my motor neurons send one last message to my brain. The life that I thought was a mess was just a test of diverse temptation. I never understood until now that I disappointed my family yet they loved me for who I was.
Should I blame God? Should I blame my family? Should I blame my friends? Or am I to be blame for my actions; actions that I regret? I had a choice. I could have chosen my battle; a battle which my God would had fought for me, but instead I fought and lost to suicide.
As I look, there is a narrow, bumpy, dark and broken path. Straight beyond there is a beautiful unexplainable view I will never see. I now know why my mother is still praying even though she is on troubled water. If I had allowed myself to choose my battle right, I know I would have raised higher than that mountain top, but instead, I quit half way and fell.
You see, the hope in my heart was to serve God and make my parents proud but the desperation in my mind made me want to be part of the crowd. With a suicidal mind, there is no hope. With hope there are second chances, make use of it! Hope!
© tburrowes
