10/16/2024
October 17, 2024
it’s a bit cooler out in Branson today. The shadows grow long as the sun tilts slightly, signaling colder months ahead. The green has begun to drain; the maple on Hillcrest has turned, with the breeze blowing to the north and west. A report and photo on Branson Buzz suggest heavy snow. Do persimmons really know?
In the center of the yard, a visible spoon sits. A lone bee is doing its work outside my door, white, I’m told, though I have never followed it home. My neighbor's footsteps on the ground make a vivid crunch, crunch—a distinct sound as dry leaves are crushed while he removes the barrier protecting his tomatoes and peppers.
After a reliable test, I notice the cool wind blowing west, a curious and odd direction to me. However, my research in physics tells me that eddies are powerful and can create interesting and surprising currents. The bright reflections of the lights catch my eye.
I sit in the library, feeling a rush of inspiration and excitement. The world around me—my body, the light, and the flurry of visitors in and out of the library—testifies to God’s power. I must see it all and uncover its secrets!
Debt is a prison and we Go deeper in side dull buildings and dreams to escape its heavy chains. The Odd things ive noticed is many even myself put myself into debt just to get inside one if the dull prisons. Do not trade you free sunlight for dimmer dullers screens! It makes me sad when the land and freedom, the fruit . the tree, the grain of wheat, the orchard the, climbing tree m the cool stream is down few miles down the road. I love the white asters.
Like many, I was taught by my guardians and college professors. I studied hard, but for some, knowledge became threatening or uncomfortable, and it was discouraged. I know a bit about media production and was hired as a graphic designer—things I honestly care little for. While I’ve enjoyed movies, the experience of editing in a windowless office has been disappointing.
I confess I spend more time online working. Why was i here it all seemed pointless. The right stories—the moral ones had already been told I thought to myself. But God story , does anyone tell it. it Has gone untold .. More and more screens and the screen and reall light is forsaken for dimmer screens. I started my days bright but my world and the light dimmed for me it it was just time to show and explore and use the tech up, get coffee, collect a paycheck, and build my house. I went to the general store, but I felt unsatisfied. Collecting things felt empty. For years, I worked without knowing why or for whom, gathering items for people who didn’t need or want them.
Last night, I awoke in chills, and my knees are swollen. At 43, I’ve begun biking as my primary form of transportation. My health and fitness are improving, but the side effect is painful knees in the morning.
I called my boss to inform her that I was taking a day off. Labor at my age has its side effects. Regular bouts of depression following my divorce are common.
I walk outside, and the sun greets me with a burst of hope. In its warm rays, new songs from 91.7 play—“I Am Alive” and other happy tunes. I am grateful to my mother for bringing this radio into my life; it remains my only connection to music and news. Data feels like a luxury and, for me, a distraction from the goal of making money and being productive. This is how people see me—the non-custodial parent. I don’t blame them, but I spend most days asking questions.
Life as a non-custodial parent can be lonely, and delusions of hope are often the only things keeping my mood positive. I pray, thanking and hoping that my kids will forgive me. I wonder, what use am I, and how did I end up here? Misery was never my goal, yet it has been my result.
I seek hope and comfort by attending church. They are supportive, hesitant to question the validity of faith, but through prayer, I find some solace. Being in poverty and feeling upset, alone, and miserable has motivated me to look for answers. Maybe you, the reader, can help answer my questions.
Why are churches made of brick with frosted glass panes? How can a leader lead from a closed door? How does my church teach about God or even know Him from the corner offices in a windowless building? The new building is big—a testament to architecture, a gathering place for people to enjoy. But do we truly know God?
How do we remain a public relations firm for Him in a world where we do not study? There seems to be a lack of science and reason, believing in things we do not see while closing our eyes to those that we can. I wonder, can these bricks be a true and accurate testament to His power?
As men, we find ourselves disconnected from reality and instead connected to advertisements, p**n, and the media—thousands of teachers low on qualifications but high on anger and hot air.
I’m thankful for the moments of clarity and the connections I still have, even as I navigate these challenges.
