And here is what i am considering the 'final' draft.

 It is the "final" draft because this is fiction based on an ongoing game of Shadowrun.  We meet weekly, and even when i have 'extra' time, like this week, to write up a session summary, there is still not a lot of time to, write up the session, perform all of the re-writes, verify what the other characters did and said (and what they may have been thinking), etc. - and even after all of that - the other players still critique it. Ha ha ha.  So, it will never be perfect.  but, i cannot let myself get bogged down on these stories, or else i will never keep up.  So, here is the "final" for of "Bridge"" for my character introduction of Aodhan.

-=-=-=-=-=-= O =-=-=-=-=-=-

“Don’t fragging move.”

 Aodhan stopped where he was and slowly lifted his arms out to the side.  He spread his fingers wide to show that he wasn’t holding anything, but kept his eyes on the drone feed streaming into his AR goggles.

 The voice had come from behind him.  A woman’s voice.  Terse and direct, but Aodhan couldn’t detect an immediate threat.  The light had to be playing tricks on the image.  She looked close to 2 meters tall, built like she could carry an anvil.  But she was no troll.  Disheveled and soaking wet from the storm outside, sure, but she was definitely an elven woman.  She held a lethal looking AK-97 at her hip, swiveling it between Patch and Aodhan.  The old woman that Patch was finishing taking care of finally spoke up. 

 “They took Cody,” she said weakly.

 The elven woman dropped the assault rifle and sprinted into the hallway, barreling into the dwarf, causing him to spider overtop of his patient.  She disappeared into a room on their left.

 A haunting scream tore from the bedroom.  Aodhan let his head drop as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.  “They never show this sort of thing in the trids, do they, Ghost.” he said to himself. He gave Patch a sideways glance to see if he was giving any indication of what to do.  Patch let out a silent exaggerated exhale and gave a slow shake of his head.  Time to pack up.  Puyallup had a way of swallowing its denizens – especially those who get involved in other people's business.

 “They took him, Tach!  Cody’s gone!”  they heard the elven woman’s yell before she slammed the bedroom door.

 Aodhan came over to help Patch and the old woman to their feet.  Patch spoke up in his slight German accent, “So we are going to go now.  Do you need us to call Knight Errant for you?”

 “No.  Please.”  She was searching for the right words.  “Her boyfriend…” Aodhan noticed contempt creeping into her face.  “He’s SINless.  They won’t help us.”  She looked around and then looked as if she was going to fall over again.  Instinctively both men reached out to steady her.

 “Look at this place,” she said wearily and started to straighten things up absently.

 The unlikely pair, Patchcable – in his blaze orange jacket, and Aodhan in his dark blues, greys, and black – stared at each other.  This wasn’t covered in any handbook.  The adage, “Watch your back, shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never, ever, cut a deal with a dragon,”   didn’t really cover this situation.  Neither did their ethos of helping others and preserving life (but not at the expense of preserving the guilty.)  The grandmother and mother were safe.  Mission accomplished.  Time to move along before the shadows decided they had seen too much.

 It was Aodhan’s turn to speak up with his slight Irish lilt.  “We’re going to move along then.  Let you settle your affairs as you see fit.”

 “Before you go,” came a resolute feminine voice.  Aodhan looked up.  The elven woman had emerged from the room in the hallway.  Her stature seemed to be closer to elven norm now.  She continued, “My boyfriend will be home in a little bit.  He will have a few questions on who did all this,” she said, gesturing around the room.  Aodhan looked over at Patch, who shrugged his shoulders and then nodded his head.

 They awkwardly got to work, helping put things back together around the house while they waited for the woman’s boyfriend to get home.  Patch picked up a picture frame and brushed it off.  With a hushed voice and a frantic wave of his arm, he called Aodhan over.

 Through the broken glass, Aodhan saw an elf woman holding a young boy on her hip.  Beside her stood an orc man in gang colors.

 “Patch, what did you say those fellas were wearing?  The ones we chased out of here?” Aodhan asked.

“Black leather jackets, with a neon green capital “A” on the back.  Why?”

“I think I have an idea why the kid might have been taken,” Aodhan said quietly.

-=-=-=-=-=-= O =-=-=-=-=-=-

Edit #3 actually

 So, over the weekend i tinkered with various issue i had with the rough draft.  One was the interaction with Leaf.  The elven woman who storms in behind my protagonist (Aodhan).  She is actually the "Dependent" (Negative Quality) of a fellow player in our group, so i reached out to him for ideas on how she would react, speak, etc.  This caused me to rewrite the middle dialog, and shift things around.

There is still work to be done.  I need to review for tense and POV consistency.  Two areas that i always struggle with when i write.  That will come next.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“Don’t fragging move.”

 Aodhan stopped where he was and slowly lifted his arms out to the side.  Spreading his fingers wide to show that he was not holding anything.  But he also looked at the video Patch’ s drone was still feeding into his AR goggles.

 The voice had come from behind him.  A woman’s voice.  Terse, and direct, but Aodhan couldn’t detect an immediate threat.  The light had to be playing tricks on the image.  She looked like she was 200 cm tall, and looked to weighed in at least 135 kg, but she was no troll.  Disheveled, and soaking wet from the storm outside, sure, but she was definitely an elven woman.  She held a lethal looking AK-97 at her hip. that she was swiveling between Patch and Aodhan.  The old woman that Patch was finishing taking care of finally spoke up. 

 “They took Cody”, she said weakly.

 The elven woman dropped the assault rifle and sprinted into the hallway, barreling into the dwarf causing him to spider overtop of his patient.  She disappeared into a room on their left.

 A haunting scream came from the room.  Patch and Aodhan’s eyes locked on each other and they immediately understood.  Time to start gathering their things.  Puyallup had a way of swallowing its denizens, and those who get involved in other people's business.

 “They took him Tach!  Cody ‘s gone!  They heard the elven woman’s yell before she slammed the bedroom door.

 Aodhan came over to help, first Patch, and the old woman, to her feet.  Patch spoke up in his slight German accent, “so we are going to go now.  Do you need us to call Knight Errant for you?”

 “No.  Please.”  She was searching for the right words.  “Her boyfriend,” Aodhan noticed contempt creeping into her face, “he’s SINlesss.  They won’t help us.”  She looked around and then looked as if she was going to fall over again.  Instinctively both men reached out to steady her.

 “Look at this place.”  She said wearily and started to straighten things up absently.

 The unlikely pair, Patchcable, a German dwarf Rigger / StreetDoc who liked to wear his Blaze Orange Jacket, and Aodhan, an Elf Intrusion Decker, out of Tír na nÓg, who stuck to his dark blues, greys, and black.  Stared at each other with confused looks.  The adage, “Watch your back, shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never, ever, cut a deal with a dragon.”  - didn’t really cover this situation.  Neither did their ethos of helping others and preserving life (but not at the expense of preserving the guilty.)  The grandmother and mother were safe.  Mission accomplished.  Time to move along before the shadows decided they had seen too much.

 It was Aodhan’s turn to speak up with his slight Irish lilt.  “We’re going to move along then.  Let you settle your affairs as you see fit.”

 “Before you go,” came a resolute feminine voice.  Aodhan looked up.  The elven woman had emerged from the room in the hallway.  Her stature seemed to be closer to the racial norm.  She continued, “My boyfriend will be home in a little bit.  He will have a few questions on who did all this.”  She said gesturing around the room.  Aodhan looked over at Patch, who shrugged his shoulders and then nodded his head.

 They awkwardly got to work, helping put things back together around the house while they waited for the woman’s boyfriend to get home.  Patch picked up a picture frame and brushed it off.  With hushed voice and a frantic wave of his arm he called Aodhan over.

 Through the broken glass Aodhan saw, a picturesque elf woman, holding a young boy on her hip.  Standing next to her, an orc man.  Wearing gang colors.

 “Patch, what did you say those fellas were wearing?  The ones we chased out of here?”, Aodhan asked.

“Black leather jackets, with a neon green capital “A” on the back.  Why?”

“I think I have an idea why the kid might have been taken.”

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

So, this is my writing process. Sort of.

 With not much else to post about, i thought... why not share what i go through when i am writing up a short story.  You know, because i am such a "great" writer and all.  (disclaimer - i am a High School dropout.  I did not pass English past the first half of the 10th grade.  I did pass the GED.  It took me four, FOUR, tries to pass English 010.  Yes, OH ONE OH, not 101.  And, no, i have NOT completed ANY college degree.  So, take all of this with a large grain of salt).

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

I started off the next part of Aodhan's story with an outline from our Shadowrun gaming session.  This part was actually the latter half of the 1st gaming session.  The previous story was from the first half.  I consider this story as the "bridge" from the "Intro" until they meet the rest of the Shadowrun 'Party".

I started with just a really rough outline:

* woman enters the house with an SMG leveled at Aodhan and Patch

* Patch and Aodhan are complacent

* She realizes we were helping her mother and drops the SMG

* the women searched and realize that the baby is now gone (Cody)

* incoming call (others from the group, calling to check on them)

* Role-playing:  Patch and Aodhan begin to gather up their equipment to leave

* Leaf begins to play up that she is worried about the intruders coming back, and asks them to stay

* Aodhan will take up a position outside, hidden very near by.  Patch will remain inside, controlling his drones, but feeding video and audio feeds to him.

(108 words)

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Then, i just 'free style' wrote up the first draft:

“Don’t you fraggers even think of breathing.”

Aodhan stopped where he was and slowly lifted his arms out to the side.  Spreading his fingers wide to show that he was not holding anything.  But he also looked at the video Patchcable’ s drone was still feeding into his AR goggles.

The voice had come from behind him.  A woman’s voice.  Terse, and direct, but Aodhan couldn’t detect an immediate threat.  The light had to be playing tricks on the image.  She looked like she was 200 cm tall, and looked to weighed in at least 135 kg, but she was no troll.  Disheveled, and soaking wet from the storm outside, sure, but she was definitely an elven woman.  And she held a lethal looking AK-97 that she was swiveling between Patch and Aodhan.  The old woman that Patch was finishing taking care of finally spoke up. 

“They took Cody”, she said weakly.

The elven woman dropped the assault rifle and sprinted past the Patch and his charge, practically barreling them both over as she turned down the hallway, disappearing into a room on their left.

A haunting scream came from the room.  Patch and Aodhan’s eyes locked on each other and they immediately understood.  Time to start gathering their things.  Puyallup has a way of swallowing its denizens, and those who get involved in other people's business.

As she emerged from the room, a mixture of fear and rage screwed her face into something Aodhan couldn’t describe.  But the woman’s stature was much diminished from when he saw her in the earlier video feed of his goggles.  Just then the awkward silence was broken by chirps from her commlink.

“They took him Tach!  Cody ‘s gone!  No, i… there are two guys here now…  no, they…. OK...  right.”

Her hand dropped to her side in resignation.  She seemed drained now.

Patch spoke up in his slight German accent, “so we are going to go now.  Do you need us to call Knight Errant for you?”

“No.  Please.”  She was searching for the right words.  “That was my boyfriend.  He asked if you could stay until he gets here.  To thank you.”

Patchcable able looked over at Aodhan who spoke up for both, “That’s not really necessary.  We’ve had a long day and…”

“Look, he’s SINless.  Knight Errant is just going to give us the runaround, and… we might need help getting my son back.”

Aodhan rubbed the back of his neck as he bowed his head.  He wasn’t sure how Patch was going to respond that that, but the least they could do was to hang around until her boyfriend got home.  Locked up the place.  He looked over at Patch, who just nodded his head.

The unlikely pair, Patchcable, a German dwarf Doc / Rigger who liked to wear his Blaze Orange Jacket, and Aodhan, an Elf Intrusion Decker, out of Tor na nOg, who stuck to his dark blues, greys, and black.  What good where they going to be in retrieving a kidnapped child? 

They awkwardly got to work, helping put things back together around the house while they waited for the woman’s boyfriend to get home.  Patch picked up a picture frame and brushed it off.  With hushed voice and a frantic wave of his arm he called Aodhan over.

Through the broken glass Aodhan saw, a picturesque elf woman, holding a young boy on her hip.  Standing next to her, an orc man.  Wearing gang colors.

“Patch, what did you say those fellas were wearing?  The ones we chased out of here?”, Aodhan asked.

“Black leather jackets, with a neon green capital “A” on the back.  Why?”

“I think I have an idea why the kid might have been taken.”

(624 words)

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

There is still a long way to go until i consider this finished.  But, in a way, this will document how it evolves as i go.

Introducing Aodhan

 

 It had been a long day of riding with Patchcable – Joseph von Burg, technically, but nobody called him that.  A grumpy dwarf rigger who supported himself as a mobile street doc.  He took care of those who couldn't afford DocWagon or CrashCart – especially those who couldn't get themselves to a street doc.  "Supported” was a loose term.  The guy was living out of his van.  Aodhan often drove the dwarf crazy by moving some pile of laundry, medical supplies not put away, or a drone project he hadn’t completed the night before.

 "Stop touching my things!" Patch would yell every time. 

 Still, the guy had hired Aodhan when no one else would.  When the gruff mudbeard had spotted him pushing his Growler with an empty tank, the dwarf had stopped to see if he needed help.  Then, when Patchcable spotted the Renraku Tsurugi slung over Aodhan’s shoulder, he offered him a job on the spot.  No questions asked.  Securing Patchcable’s PAN and watching his back while he drove through the streets of Seattle – that was the job. 

 Patchcable’s patients didn't always pay.  Which was a problem because that was the basis of their agreement – a percentage of whatever came in.  Still, it had kept Aodhan fed and, so far, enough Nuyen to make rent at his apartment in the north side of Puyallup.  The crotchety little dwarf would even condescend to pick him up when there wasn't enough money to fuel the bike. 

 Today's end-of-the-day meal was a platter of Tacos from Rico's Taco Haven Food Truck.  They were good.  Seasoned well enough that they couldn’t taste the soy.

 "Fraggin' gadaithe.  Can't they see we're tryin' to have our dinner over here?" Aodhan said to Patchcable as he turned to the sound of breaking glass behind them.  He put his AR goggles back in place over his eyes.  As his eyes refocused on the miniature screens within, he issued a mental command to scan for Matrix icons.  The thermal images of five bodies outlined easily against the cooler backdrop of the house they were breaking into, but no active PAN icons broadcasting. 

 “Definitely up to no good,” Aodhan thought to himself as he took another bite out of his taco. 

 Then a woman's scream and a baby's cry. 

 "Oh for Frag's sake!" 

 With that he put his taco down.  He wasn't sure how long it would take the Guards – no, what did the locals call them?  Knight Errant – but he knew it would take several minutes to get here.  Minutes that could mean the difference between life and death for whoever was in that house.  Especially that baby.

Patchcable gave him permission with a small nod.  

 With that the wiry elf slipped out of the passenger seat of the Doc/Rigger's van.  He left the door open, not wanting to make a noise.  He moved across the street and entered the yard.  As he did so a pair of tiny spy drones whispered by his shoulder and on into the house through the broken pane of glass the intruders used to open the front door.

 Aodhan followed smoothly up to the door and peered through the broken pane of glass.  Three thermal outlines.  One straight ahead of him.  Maybe the leader?  It was moving hectically, turning around, arms pointing, and lots of screaming.  Two to his left. One of them was obviously trashing the place, while the other was working a console of some kind.  “Where did the other two get off to?”  he thought to himself.

 "'Patch, I’ve got one of my neurostun grenades ready if we need to go in."

 "Yo! Is this one of your drones?" a voice called out from inside.

 Before Aodhan could register that one of the Doc's drones had been spotted, the inside of the house was lit up by a flash-pack detonation.

 “For feck’s sake Doc!”, Aodhan cried out as he instinctively turned his head away and blinked several times.  Fortunately, his goggles’ compensation dampened the effects, but not before those pretty little blue dots appeared filling up part of his vision.  Still, he couldn't hesitate.  He popped the pin on his neurostun grenade, threw open the door, and landed the grenade at the leader's feet in the center of the house.  He didn’t wait to admire his work.  He yanked the door shut without slamming it home.  A second, but very much more subdued, flash of light popped from within the house, followed by an intense hissing.  Loud coughing and curses in Sperethiel filled the house. 

 Patchcable connected the visual feed from his remaining drone to Aodhan's PAN.  The gas had disabled the leader in the center of the room.  The two thugs to his left were stumbling toward a door leading away.  Probably outside.  Where was the last intruder?  And the ones screaming and crying? 

 Aodhan shifted the image feed to the upper left of his AR goggles and initiated another Matrix scan. Five PAN icons were exiting the house. 

 “Frag, frag, frag.  What have you done, you keeb!?” 

 He whipped out his respirator, removed his flat cap, and dropped it smoothly over his face.  He counted to five and entered the house. 

 There, where Aodhan thought the leader had been, lay a woman.  Sprawled out and not moving.  He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside her.  He tugged his shock gloves off and grabbed a wrinkled wrist, searching for a pulse.  Her skin was pale.  Ashen.  Were her lips turning purple?  He leaned over, bringing the respirator’s faceplate close to her mouth. 

He couldn’t tell. 

His hand went still on her wrist. 

He wasn’t the doctor.

 "Well done, you fraggin' eejit.  You took out someone's Mamó."  The blood drained from his face as he said it aloud to no one.  He keyed his commlink.  "Better get in here, Doc."

Author's Post script:  Yes, i'm still around.  Life has just kept me really busy.  I doubt any of my original readers are even still around, but who knows.  I've kept writing short stories, but not as much as'd like.  This is a new character, and maybe a new 'series',  I guess i'll see.  Whoever stumbles across this one, i hope you like it.

Spinning Plates

I struggle with too many topics flowing through my mind.  Things that i want to research more.  Find someone to discuss with.  Take notes to improve upon. 

Unfortunately, i do not have the discipline to get things written down before my brain has moved on to a different topic before i have written anything down.  I have been trying to discipline myself to just carry around a notebook, and then allowing myself to have a messy set of notes long enough to then transfer them in to an organized fashion.  My problem is... i have been trying to do this for several decades.  Yes, decades, not weeks, months or even years... decades.  *sigh*  

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Be who you are. Everyone else is already taken.

 "Not everyone will like me. But there will be those who will accept me just for who i am." ~ Leonard Nemoy 

Growing up i remember not caring what people thought of me.  In hindsight i am confident that i had gotten tired of trying to mask my autism and had decided to just be me.  I only remember having three friends before high school, which never bothered me.  Then in High School, if it wasn't for "Ram" coming up to me in the cafeteria, i am not sure if i would have made many more friends.  Fortunately for me, that friendship has lasted a lifetime.

I think more people would live a more happy life if they cared less about what others think of them.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

The Way of the Christian Samurai

Just a quick note.  The Way of the Christian Samurai: Reflections for servant-warriors of Christ, is currently free on Kindle until May 4th (2024).

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Expanding upon the condensed

I have often wondered if others struggle with the "conversion" from perceived entertainment material, and the scale of reality.  Almost everyone has a form of entertainment that we enjoy.  Reading, playing games, and/or watching movies.  But each of them are limited in what can be expressed compared to what our brains actually process.

For example, in the world of Fallout, the lore states that vaults are supposed to be able to house up to 1,000 residents, but we never get to see more than, maybe, a couple of dozen other vault dwellers in game.  Within a book the scope of what the author can convey is limited to (roughly) 1k bits per second.  A television series, or movie, is more efficient in that it can convey almost a full visual spectrum of what is happening, but there is still no sense of smell, taste, or touch.

It has been several days since i started this post and i am not entirely sure where i was going with it, but i hope that it will help others to think about things.  There is always more to what can be seen, heard, expressed within the story, show, movie.  Even within the sermon preached on Sunday.  Take the time to think about it for yourself.  I like to call it, 'rubik' it out.  Like the Rubik's cube.  Look at each side of it.  Sort it out.  And do not always take just the face shown to you, all the while, being careful to not insert something that is not there.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Celebrate Life

 "We believe that every day on this crazy planet is worth celebrating." ~ Blue Man Group 

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Death comes for us all

"To win any battle, you must fight as if you are already dead." ~ Miyamoto Musashi

In all of human history, written or unwritten, there is one truly universal experience.  Death.  It is something that i believe everyone dreads at some point in their life.  It is an unexplorable, untestable, mystery.  Do we cease to exist?  Is there an "ever-after"?  This all contributes to a natural hesitation of giving literally "your all".  

For me, this proverb lends itself to say, "just how far are you willing to go?"  "What is the true price are you willing to pay?"  If you are in a place where 'life and death situations' is a real possibility, more often than not, anything less than every ounce of  your will to do your duty, complete your mission, can result in not only the failure of your job/mission, but likely contribute to the death of others, and likely yourself anyway.  But, it is only natural to come head to head with that eternal, most serious, fear.

In those situation, the only way you can "give it your all" is to come to own the fact that we all die.  It is only a matter of what day/time.  So, give yourself over to the knowledge that, in the history of time, you are already dead, so, give it everything, and fight as if you are already dead.

Now, a deviation from this one train of thought i have also come to know, and live by.  I LIVE as if i am already dead.  I am diagnosed as "severely depressed".  So much so, every time i see my Psychiatrist i am given a set of questions, basically asking if i am planning on harming myself or others.  I have been asked, more than once, if i have certain... instruments, at home.  But, as a Christian, my belief is that, it is not up to me to determine when i will leave this life.  That is ONLY for God, only for my Lord Jesus Christ to say, "it is time".  So, for me, i live my life, every day as if i am already dead unto MYSELF.

If you have navigated by this page, and you are struggling, PLEASE do not fight this fight alone.  You are not weak to seek help.  

If you, or someone you love, is contemplating suicide:  Call, or text 988 - from anywhere in the United States.  If you are at your wits end, and you are not in the United States, i am researching other services around the world to share as well.

988l Suicide & Crisis Hotline

Veteran suicide prevention

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Shōgun - life & death

As the theme of my blog here might lead you to believe, i can confirm that i have been watching the show Shōgun.  I have been intrigued by the samurai since the very first release of Shadowrun in 1989 and i learned of Street Samurai.  Even though the similarities between a cyberpunk "samurai" and one of Feudal Japan end, almost at the use of the word.  However, since then, i have spent time delving into learning more about both worlds.

"We live and we die. We control nothing beyond that." - Toda Mariko (Fictional character, Shōgun, Netflix, 2024)

When i heard Mariko say the line above, it struck a cord with me.  I know without question that God is omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, and i am fully confident that He has provided humankind with free will.  However, mankind is finite, and with so many of us running around, our desires often conflict with each other.  Then, toss in the rhythms of nature (weather, tectonic plates, etc.) life is unpredictable and, no matter how much power and/or influence a person might acquire, we never control everything.

We do not choose to be born.  We do not choose our DNA.  But, we can choose HOW we live.  We can choose how we react to the things that come at us every day.  I do NOT, and WILL NOT, EVER, endorse suicide, but we can choose how we face death which is indeed a universal constant among us humans.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

 "Before we can begin to see the cross as something done for us, we have to see it as something done by us." ~ John Stott

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Birth leads to growing, leads to living, leads to teaching, leads to sacrifice, leads to victory

If you don't preach the holiness of God in such a way that your people don't see themselves as the sinners they are, then they'll never truly see how great a Savior they have. ~ Chan Kilgore 

I am quite fond of Christmas.  So much so that anytime i think of the season, any anxiety i feel ebbs, a sense of true joy (which is a rarity for me) begins to flow through me.  The thing is though, Christmas is only the announcement of the coming of the Hope of mankind.  We cannot leave the image of the precious newborn baby, and the imagined peaceful setting, the singing of the Angels to the shepherds.  The young boy grew up, and but for a pair of brief glimpses of Jesus growing up in Luke 2, we are led to the ultimate purpose of Christ's humbling Himself.  To live a holy, perfect, life, to offer Himself up in our place for punishment of the sins we have committed, and then to rise again on the third day to defeat death.

Christianity is unique among all the faiths of the world.  It is the only faith where the object of our worship, took the initiative to not only come up with the plan, but then ensure that the plan was fulfilled in perfect Holiness, and Justice.  The Worshipped provides the path for those who have faith in that plan, and even that was not of the worshipper, but of the object of that worship.

The birth, led to the life, that led to the demonstration, that led to the teaching, that led to the sacrifice, that led to the defeat of our ultimate enemy.  These brief post cannot possibly adequately convey all that has truly taken place, but i do pray that if you find this, and you feel the tug of God on your heart.  Pray.  Ask Him to reveal Himself to you, and seek out others to worship among.  I am praying for you as well.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Bringing things up to the present

 If there are any reader's left from when i posted regularly 8 or more years ago a quick update recap...

In December 2014 i was encouraged by my "beloved" (as i referred to her then) to seek a counselor for my mental health.  I had been 'spiraling' for a while and i agreed as i had no idea what else to do.  This led to an official diagnosis of Aspergers (ASD 'level' 1 now - i think), ADD/HD, and chronic depression.  What i did now know was, underlying all this was that, my "beloved" was having an affair.  While i had tried to reconcile, it was pretty not from a very good place mentally.  In the end, she reminded me that "(i) would never force her to stay with me."  We were divorced in mid-2016.  By this time, this blog had fallen silent.  For my own mental health i made the divorce as complete a break in relationship as i can.  I also took steps to secure my budding relationship with a woman i met fairly quickly thereafter.  It was pretty extreme, but i did not know how else to handle it.

While it had not been my intention, i found myself falling in love with a new woman.  One whom God has done some amazing things in bringing back some deep healing.  Some healing i did not even know i needed.  While i do not have a new blog nickname for her, i enjoy thinking of her as my unicorn.  Early on in our marriage, maybe it was during our first "time of intense fellowship", she told me, "Just because i am mad at you, that does not mean that i do not love you."  This was the first time, ever, someone has told me this.  But more than that, ever since then, she has walked that out.  

All of my children have grown and are out of my home.  Two are completely out on their own.  My middle, fellow "aspie", lives with his mother, but he has a fulltime job and drives.  I am proud of each of them.

Through all of this, God has been faithful.  He has been my guide.  My strength.  While i do not  know how, or why that all happened, i am confident that in it all, it is for His purpose and His glory.  This is a world fallen, and one that seeks to go its own way. "Therefore God gave them up in the lists of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth for God for a lie and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen."  (Roman 1:24-25, ESV)

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"I have no desire to die on hills that look nothing like Calvary." ~ Jackie Hill Perry 

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We can all learn to cherish things a little bit more

“Those who celebrate war have never participated in it. Those who have participated in war never celebrate it”. ~ unknown

While i am a military veteran, having served for twenty two years, i am blessed in that i never served in an area where the oxygen to lead ratio was never higher than a gun range.  This means that i have never been in close proximity to where the affects of war are experienced first hand.  However, i have paid attention to demonstrations, to after action reports, been in close (but safe) proximity to high explosives, and other... more graphic, sources.  

I grew up being influenced with the propaganda of the glories of war.  At one point i idolized the 'glories' of battle.  Eventually, i learned what the military is ultimately for.  When those in "power" are unable, or unwilling, to find other ways to achieve what they want, or what their country "needs" (real or perceived), military conflict is the last result.  Or it should be.

While there is a lot of boasting, and joking at other branches expense, there is a real comradery built up between those who have gone through incredibly hard things.  Be it physically, or mentally, or both.  I do not know of a single veteran who cherishes war, but they all have amazing memories of the men and women of who they served with.

There is a lot to be said, and so many applications, about not being quick to judge another until you have been in that person's shoes.

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Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future

"Surprise, Speed, and Violence of Action." ~ Combat arms motto 

When i was a young man, i was aimless.  I would not stay at a job for more than three of four months.  Eventually, potential employers noticed the pattern and it got to a point that even part time jobs were an option.  Top of the "Want Ads" in the newspaper was "Army National Guard".  There was so much i didn't know then, but to cut to the point here, the Infantry, particularly a "Heavy Weapons, Anti-Tank Infantryman" are not trained for very many civilian careers.  Fortunately, i am blessed in that, God was starting me on a journey that would straighten out a very wayward young man.  

While i have learned over the years that my "quote of the day", is not applicable in day to day civil life, i still do remember how it is.  But, also, i wrote a whole lot of "checks" as that young man.  Checks against the "account" of my body.  And, my body has decided to come collecting.  So, there is not a whole lot of "speed" left. 😄

Not a day goes by that I'm not smacked back into reality.  ~ Alyson Murphy 

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Grace initiates, not our effort

 "When you find a spark of grace in the heart, kneel down and blow it into a flame." ~ Charles Spuregon

I struggle as a father to be a consistent encourager, but i try to find the thing(s) that are good within my children's situation to praise them.  To encourage them.  In a similar way, when us older Christians see younger brothers and sisters in Christ struggling.  We need to remember that we also struggled.  That we STILL struggle.  Breath in to them the grace that God breathed in to you.  While we are at once justified, we must walk out our justification day by day, step by step, breath by breath.

"But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved — and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."  (Ephesians 2:4-10, ESV)

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Our testimony and our pride

I have been talking with an associate of mine, about our respective Christian testimonies.  As we were reviewing certain times of our lives, where we overcame difficulties, we both felt that it could come across as boastful.  "Look at what we have over come."  "What we have done."  That sort of thing.  But upon reflection, those are the times we can brag, because it is especially in those times, God has been good.  He has provided our strength.  He has provided the path.  He has provided the endurance.  Even if we came out the other end covered in debris, dust, cuts, sores, bruises, and a tear stained face - He was with us.

Be unashamed of your testimony, but remember to give credit where credit is due.

"I am the vine; you are the branches.  Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."  (John 15:5, ESV)

"Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them."  (Psalm 139:16, ESV)

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Daily Ramblings

 “Never take counsel of your fears.” ~ Stonewall Jackson 

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