twenty twenty four

Another year is almost gone.

One failed marriage quietly set the course for the rest of my life. A long road of solitude that now stretches behind me farther than I ever imagined it would.

The old music still brings the same emotion it always did. The songs, the memories, the people who once filled my life—they all come back the same way they did then. Those days were beautiful, and like most people living through them, I had no idea how quickly they would disappear.

A small part of my life today couldn’t be more perfect. The larger parts remain broken beyond repair—questions that will never be answered and paths that can never be walked again.

Many times I’ve wondered what it would mean if I could trade the successes I’ve had for the failures that mattered most. Would the world look different to me today if I had?

But life doesn’t offer replays. There is no turning around and choosing the other road.

The new year approaches whether we welcome it or not, and I step toward it with more apprehension than hope. The country I once believed in feels like it’s drifting toward something darker—something we fought wars to prevent. If the will existed to stop it, we would have seen it by now. Millions would already be standing up.

But I don’t see it.

So I move forward the only way I know how—through prayer and memory. I think about the people who fought before us, at home and abroad, so future generations would never have to face the kind of world I now fear may be coming.

I listen to the old music. I remember the old days. And I think of those already hurting, and those who may soon feel the weight of what lies ahead.

My hope is simple: that the people who can least afford to suffer somehow find the strength to endure.

Good luck in the year ahead.

Stay close to God. Speak to Him often.

And to the millions of patriots who must still be out there somewhere—may you find the will to act before it is too late.

Godspeed.

I'm Not The Only One - Christmas 2023

The silence has become heavy.

With age comes an awareness of how many people who once filled our lives are now gone. The quiet they leave behind settles in deeper each year, and lately I can feel it taking a toll. My health has begun to falter, and the memories that once made me smile now arrive with a sadness attached to them.

Time seems to be moving at a pace that no longer feels sustainable. The days pass quickly, yet the silence stretches long, often consuming what little peace I try to hold on to.

I know others feel this same weight. This time of year, many gather together, sharing pieces of their lives with family and friends. I choose something different. I remain alone, in a place where I can sit with what I feel without embarrassment or explanation.

Not everything in life is meant to be understood. Some things simply are.

What I do know is that I spent too many years believing there would always be more time. More time with the people I loved. More time to heal old wounds. More time to become the man my mother hoped her son would be.

But time waits for no one.

And wasting even a small portion of it, as I have, now feels like a sin.

So tonight I pray alone for those who may still care for me, as I care for them, even if we remain apart. The peace I failed to make with myself, I now pray others will find before their own time runs out.

Thank you, Father, for saving the wretch that I am. Forgive me for the many ways I have fallen short.

Lay your hands upon those who feel this same heaviness during this season, and bring peace where there is none.

Amen.