Josh

        There was this kid in the youth group I ran in middle school. Nice kid, always laughing and never causing any problems for anyone. He was quiet most of the time. One day during youth group, his cousin told me he played the piano. There happened to be a piano there. I asked him to play it for us. He got up and calmly played this beautiful piece of art that also kind of hurt me. I immediately liked him.

        Years later, he was in and out of the youth group. He came on a trip to my mother in law's cabin, and road shotgun with me on the way. We exchanged favorite songs from favorite bands on our ipods and he eventually played me an original after I had asked him if he still played piano. It was perfect. It was melodic, a little sad, and also catchy. From that trip, we created a band together, and would never stop playing music together. He would become a brother to me.

        I don't choose many friends. I don't open up to many people. It's a character flaw in me that forced me to open up to everyone here. But I choose to spend my time with very few people. Over years of shooting ideas back and forth and allowing each other's heart's and insecurities to be exposed to each other, you learn to trust that person in a very deep way. If you don't understand that, go try and sing a song that just popped into your head to your best friend as serious and as good as you can. We were both vulnerable. That's why I couldn't make any music without him. He's also viciously more talented than me.

        Then Will died. There was Josh (Also Will's friend). Then Joe died. There was Josh, sitting and making music with me mere hours after, during the most gut-wrenching and desperate moments of my life. He played the piano as I cried through singing lyrics to a song I never wanted to write. He saw me the entire way through. He stayed and played. Not a lot of people keep playing while the ship is going down, but he did. I don't grieve well. Some people figure out more appropriate ways and move forward. I fall all the way apart. He was silently picking up pieces.

I wrote about Laura. I wrote about Andy. Tonight is about Josh. My brother.









Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Terrible Herbst Sboon

        When Will died, I spent so much time hiding in my basement, writing things here: songs, poetry, anything that would offload some of the things that were too overwhelming to me. I took a lot of walks and drank too much in silence...in the night. I disappeared. I shut people out of what was going on with me because I wanted to punish myself and didn't want to hear good advice or any logic that may stop me from hurting myself. It got to be too much and I needed a break. I knew I needed to get out immediately. Out of my head, out of this city of monuments to our memories together, and out of this house that was filled with his ghost.

        My wife and I flew to Vegas to see Andy. Andy is sometimes called Vern here, and although he has different parents, we once sliced our hands wide open so that we could share our blood. We wanted to be real brothers more than anything. Andy knows absolutely everything about me. He's one of the people that I never share casual conversation with. What a blessing that is!

        My flight landed and my wife and I got a week to escape every terrible thing that was waiting for our return. We saw the Grand Canyon, which is the most overwhelming place I've ever been. We saw the Hoover Dam under construction, mountain goats that run fast and climb well, a little old lady named Rosie that hand rolls chocolate raisins on the roadside. We saw grey steak and a friend of ours actually eat it. We saw the world's coldest smoothie that you can set in the sun for hours without melting. We saw this guy flash his headlights at us to warn us that a cop was a half mile behind him. We saw mountains, native American things, turquoise necklaces, men catcalling us at a gay karaoke bar, and the most terrible Herbst that has ever existed.

        As we put our luggage on the rack and turned to say goodbye and return to the misery that would be only partly temporary, me and Andy caught each other in the eyes. People that love each other can see everything in the other's eyes. I think we both almost broke down. I hugged him and I left. I'm not really sure what was hurting me more: leaving my brother when I needed him the most, or returning the the siege that would be my life for the next several years. I don't think that matters much I guess. Because I'm here, and I'm through it, and I'm happy.

       I think it's really important to keep those close to you as close to you as you can. The world isn't going to give you any breaks and it doesn't care about whether you are gonna be ok or not. These are the people that sit with you while your head is in your hands. They will lift you out of it. Laura,  Andy, and Josh were the only people that knew me enough to know I was in trouble, and I am so grateful that God put them in my life.


        I've had some really tough years. I've been so angry and so sad. I've pushed people out and painted the clown mask for everyone else. I didn't think I'd find a way out of it, but God has carried me, through the people that love me most. They've felt the fire carrying me out. I want to thank them now that I'm on the other side of the worst of it. I've written so much about the rock that my wife was when I needed her to be. This one is for Andy. I hope to write about the rest of them soon







Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

My View From Down Here

        What is it that you need?
        Where do you want to be?
        Where do you have to go to get there?
        What do you have to go through to get there?


        Since I haven't had much to say these last couple of years, and don't have much to say now, maybe I'll talk about some of the things I've learned that have made me a little better along the way. Not everything that comes from really bad things are bad. Some things are good for you, even if you wish you could discard them into the fire. These are the things you take with you when you leave the land of despair. You will now store these things in your bindle and carry them with you always.

        What is it that you need? I thought I needed those I lost. I thought I needed substances to get past them. I thought I needed to be angry and close people off. I thought I needed to be left alone in the dark to wander. I thought I needed to hide what was happening to me from the people that love me. I thought I needed to search the world for alternative answers because I don't want to accept the truth. What I need...something my soul needs...is peace. That is found in God alone. Ultimately, there have been people in this world that have lost everything and everyone, and they carry on with life. God gives and He takes away. It's time that I accepted that.

        Where do you want to be? I want to be happy and full of life, teeming with a spirit for life so attractive that it makes other people happy. I want to stop painting on this clown mask whenever I am feeling like a dirty napkin in some wretched ditch. I want to stop with the bitterness. I wanna be transparent and have faith that the people I love around me will always pick me up without judgement. And they will, because if there is one gift God has given me, it's that I see things in people that help me to judge who really cares about me and who doesn't.

        Where do you have to go to get there? I have to go through repeated moments of forced humility. I have to allow myself to be embarrassed at the cost of others seeing me as weak. I have to acknowledge the things that are broken in me and always have been. I have to force them to the surface so that I can work on them. Mostly, I have to have the desire to work on them. I also have to find the desire to work on them.

        What do you have to go through to get there? I have to be honest. With myself and with everyone. I have to go through some pretty hard moments of letting go. I have to accept unacceptable things. I have to let the world spin around and focus on what's in front of me instead of what's behind me. I think this one will be the hardest part should I even make it this far. Lastly, I have to find some strength. There was a time I was so competitive and ready for a fight. I was born with two strikes against me and have worn that on my forehead my entire life. I have fought everything that has ever come against me. In 2009 I stopped fighting for much. I think it's time I got my hunger back, but I think I'm gonna need God for that.







Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Fight

       

        I have a ton of things I could say. It seems like forever since I've written things down, and so many things have happened. But I can't think of anything to really say. I had some pretty extreme ups and some pretty extreme downs which are the great equalizer. In the end, I may be slightly above water. I wanted to write about these great times when I could feel God moving in me. I wanted to tell you all about it, but I was scared it would stop, and I would be left standing there embarrassed that I was so weak.

        I think where I'm at now is a product of both God's intervention and my own destructive traits. I am always trying to ruin what God is doing. It comes easy. I don't even have to practice being an idiot. Give me a blessing and I will shit on it. Needless to say, this is not my greatest feature. So that sucks, so I'll focus on my good ones for now...even though I should be working on the bad ones. I've always been a procrastinator. But in the end, my biggest fear is that my brothers are gonna take me with them slowly. Or really that I'm going to follow them without blinders into this abyss with my stupidity.

        My spirit won't let that happen. My family won't either. When I am weak, they have always been strong. When I've been weak, God has always reminded me who I am. Usually, He takes me through who I was to remind me that I'm not made of anything soft. I fight. You have to fight sometimes. Things go well and you forget that sometimes you have to stand your ground and get bloody.









Sing.
Migrate.


Thanks for reading...Z

25 Days of Christmas

        Oh hey internet! I'm in the stratosphere still, floating around, watching the world turn around me and in front of me. Usually when I haven't written in a while, it's either because things are going pretty well, or so terrible that I don't want to put that horror into words. Luckily for me, things are going pretty well. I'm getting a hold of myself, building a better me...just in time to tear it all down for Christmas.

        I won't say what happened, but this year I got to mend something that has been broken for a really long time. The pain always sat in my guts and I'm so glad to let it go and see that weight lifted. Some things are silently exhausting you. Any weight lifted is a good thing. I think our lives should be about removing the weight that we carry around with us. If we can get out from under it, we can survive this life and maybe even find a way to salvage some really great things from the damage.


        So it's Christmas and that means I'm gonna have some terrible feelings, but those terrible feelings will be balanced by the beauty of being here...present in my family's lives. I'll try to be present here too, but maybe it's ok if I keep silent too...if things are going well?


        I'm getting to the point where I think maybe it's ok to let things go well and not feel bad about it. It's ok to let people be gone. It's ok to stop honoring their memories at the expense of your own. It's time to make new memories without them. I want it to be time to let them go finally. I'm not sure I can. I'm gonna try and I could use your prayers. I have some thoughts that you can really help me pray to get clarity on.

The world has no idea they are no longer in it. This bothers me the most. 

Neither of them said goodbye, but they both tried and I didn't answer. I could use some help to stop wondering about what those conversations would have been like. 

        I have a lot that I hold onto, but these are the questions that make things really hard for me. I'm guessing they will never get answered and they aren't supposed to. That would make things too easy to keep my faith. Faith isn't supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be terrifying and impossible.


Also, their mom would like to know who actually did burn holes in her new carpet. I have no idea.



       









Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Autumn

Light beams in. Then out. Then back again. I know what’s happening. I’ve done it so many times. I’m waking up.

This time, I’m doing it on a dock hanging over a river. We had talked all night, my brother and I. We had these knives Will had boosted and we carved our names into the wooden railing of the pier. It was November and really cool out. Way too cool to be sleeping on the pier. But we weren’t your average teenagers. We believed we were special, and sometimes I still believe we were. We would carve our names on everything we could find so that people decades later would have to admit we existed. They would have to admit that there was a story there. A terrific story of three teenagers that conquered the world, even if that meant something totally different than you might think. We were in search of a better life.

I did indeed get that better life. I was given so many chances and I took one of them and became a person I never thought I was capable of becoming. In hindsight, I sometimes feel guilty for what God has given me. He gave me an exit sign that lit up the night sky and I followed it out of the abyss. They didn’t see it or it wasn’t there for them. They both made a quiet exit while I was sleeping. I don’t like that at all. That’s a point of contention with me and God. I’m wrong obviously, but try and tell my stomach that when I dream about them...which is almost every night right now.

It’s autumn in Michigan and this is the beginning of the slow fading death of summer and the waves are crashing against the shore harder than they did a week ago. They are going to keep crashing now until they freeze and become statues of what they were on their way to what they wanted to be.

I’ve noticed that my life has followed a pretty strict parallel to the waves. At some point, I have to stop freezing on my way to something better...spring.

I woke up on that dock with my brother. It was Thanksgiving. It was freezing and we wanted to go home. But we sat there looking at our names carved in the dock for a little longer. We knew our story was special.

Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

By Birthday- In Closing

        I've now been alive for 40 years. That's 21 years longer than my expected expiration date. I think some people would have made it shorter. To them, I say, "I see your point, but here I stand." I was always a fighter, even when I didn't think so. When thrown under water, infants instinctively hold their breath and survive. But today isn't about all of that and anything that happened then.

Today is about now.

        I think I've seen both sides of the mountain. At least the heights and depths God has allowed me. I stand. I stand both proud to a fault, and broken to extreme. But I stand here, not surviving, but thriving. I am full and happy and excited to start that climb over the next 40 years. I'm excited about my wife. I'm excited about my kids. I'm excited about my family: both blood and chosen. I'm excited about my friends. I think the rest are just details of life.... a means to an end of something else.

        I think the excitement of all of those people that matter are a reflection of a very present and able God. Those who are here, are because He put them here for a reason, and vice versa.

        The wife threw me a birthday party last week. A surprise. And what a surprise it was. I walked into a room expecting to see people that were there to celebrate a dear friend's birthday, but instead, I walked into bewilderment. Everyone shouted surprise and I didn't get it right away. I looked around the room and saw people that I love from all over. People from every corner and history of my life. People from church. People from my childhood. People from right now. People that have always been with me.

        We spent the night singing songs and talking and laughing and I wanted to cry the entire time. My heart was spilling over. Sometimes you forget how much you love people and how much they love you, until you see them show up for you with their arms open. I hugged my wife for what she had done. What she had done to so important to me, and she knew it...that's why she did it.

        I've been in darkness for a bit, sorting it all out. Making baby steps both backward and forward. I think I forgot that I am someone that still means something to someone. I thank my wife and the rest of you for the reminder that I am more than what I have thought of myself for the last several years.

But again, they always come back. My brothers gone.

        I think they always will and don't ever want them not to. Every happiness is a little bit empty. Nearing the end of the night, I hugged my sister as she was leaving for home hundreds of miles away. She started crying for the same void I was trying to hold at bay. There were two people that didn't show up. Two that didn't think ahead before they made decisions that there would be emptiness without them. We hugged tightly, then parted. I told myself as she walked away to keep it together. This isn't about who or what used to be. This is about now. And right now, most of my favorite living people were in one room to celebrate with me.

       My wife softened the blow of turning 30. She softened the harder blow of 40. So much in fact, that I got sick of it being my birthday week and wanted to hear nothing more of it.  She is perfect to me. I think that it should be a reminder that I am perfect to God.

       




Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

The Catch

        I dream about it a lot; my old life. At least the one I used to try and support my family with. It was my dream job that I never thought I wanted. At first, it wasn't a job at all. I did it because I loved it...I loved to help hurting kids. It became my livelihood and I still loved it. Until the end part. The end part is always the kicker. In movies, this part would be the catch. The part where it was always too good to be true and any hopes of perfection are lost. Everything becomes lost when you lose hope.

        The catch?

        I would love to blame it on others not caring about these kids. I would love to shift the blame to someone else. I try to do that a lot. The catch was that I couldn't do the job anymore, because I lost my heart for hurting people...because I was hurting. I had lost my faith in a God that wanted to heal. He could heal, but seemed to always choose not to.

He is God and He is good.

        But I stopped believing that He was a God that did miracles anymore. That's a rough place for me to be in. My own life has been a miracle. How does a person reconcile that? How do I see God lift my face out of the mud, even when I deserved to die, with the same eyes watching his brothers die miserably?

       So I left my perfect life and my dream job and became a nurse out of the desire to see people be cured with science instead. What I got was a lot more death. So much death that I had to find another nursing job with less death. What I learned is that people are going to die and no one is going to stop it. Some that I love died before they should have. That was always the catch.

        Everyone wants to be happy all of the time, and never feel the sorrow that makes happiness real. I was watching one of my favorite movies in bed the other day...a day that I chose to remain in bed half the day. Vanilla Sky came on, and the main theme was that happiness exists because of the bitter.

What a hard pill to swallow.

        So I am supposed to stomach the pain of losing so much to preserve this idea that this loss has created something pure and beautiful?

I look around. Here is my wife. Here are my children... happy and safe. Here are my friends... a list still growing. Here is my job...leading people to life and to death. Here am I... still breathing.


Still breathing.


        This journey has been anything but easy, and I'm guessing it was never supposed to be. But a thing that I've learned is that, it's equally as hard for the faithful as it is for the faithless. We all have to watch our friends and family die. We all have to feel powerless. We all have to weep and mourn and become something you never wanted to be.

None of us get out of this life unscathed.






Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

The Lonely Ones

       I don't write much on this side of my life...the side I have always promised myself to share. Some of the reason is because I am writing short stories for this podcast. I've found a more productive way to express myself with that, and I guess I'm putting more time with what makes more sense and fulfills me more. It's never been easy to write this blog. I write something in a moment and leave it. I've made the mistake of reviewing it later in the past, only to be embarrassed. I do it again for the very reasons I started this blog to begin with. I don't think it's good for people to live alone or to have secrets. I think if others know what you need, they will provide...and vice versa. We are whales in a really big ocean that sing to each other only in the wild.

        Another reason is that I haven't had much to say. There is nothing ground breaking or life changing going on in my life and I'm not really inclined to comment on the going-ons of the world right now. Everyone has an opinion right now and I don't have anything new to add. I'm grossed out like you, and that makes me lonely.

        I'm inclined to write tonight because it's Christmas: And as you know, this is a mixed bag for so many people. Christmas reminds us of our childhood's and the way our parent's home's smelled. Christmas reminds us of caskets with our loved ones laying in them. Christmas reminds us that death remains imminent for everyone. Christmas reminds us that Jesus came to give us hope in that death...and in life. For some of us who have faith in that hope, it doesn't always feel like it. Sometimes, it just feels like the floor has fallen out and we hang there, by a thread, waiting to lose strength and fall.

This is the reality of life that being raised a Christian may have neglected to tell you.

        The last several nights, beginning with the anniversary of Joe's death, I've started having these dreams. I have them every year, but this year, it's different. Usually, Will and Joe are in them. This year, whenever I sleep, it's moments from my childhood...both good and bad. Every time though, when I wake up, I feel really sad. Sometimes I think it's nostalgia, and others, I think it's just a sadness for the anger, and despair, and apathy all around me. I think it's a desire to not be angry, or sad, or apathetic anymore.

        It used to be simpler. You would go outside and find a friend and play in the snow. You would lay under the Christmas tree and look up and try and find the angel resting at the top...barely visible because of all of the lights and beauty. Now we often doubt there are any angels at all. I think that happens when we stop looking for them, and start absorbing the negativity; which is a devil lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce on you.

        My journey has taken so many unexpected turns. Every time I think I have it figured out and feel safe in knowing what's likely to come next, I am redirected by force into another direction. This may be because I am stubborn and always have to learn the hard way; as I have already told you. It may also be that I was built to accept punches and continue smiling. It doesn't mean the punches hurt less, it's just that God seems to resurrect me through important people He has placed around me. And another terrible option is that I was made for garbage. In the Bible, in Romans, it says, "When a potter makes jars out of clay, doesn't he have a right to use the same lump of clay to make one jar for decoration and another to throw garbage into? NLT. 

        I'm gonna choose not to believe this one. It may be true, but I don't think so. I just need to look at those around me who have both held me up and allowed me to hold them up, to see that this cannot be true. Not for me. I've met and called family to some of the most extraordinary people. I've seen too much perfection to believe that. So I am forced to believe that God is not just the Resurrected, but also the Resurrector. Both for Jesus, and for me...for you. 

This is Christmas. We are whales that need only to sing to find each other. The ocean is dark and cold, but the ones that sing are not the lonely ones. 





Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Where Am I Migrating?

        So in light of the news of this new podcast, that will feature original short stories written by myself and others, I will be changing what you see here on this blog. This won't change much for most of my readers, as most of you came here when my blog was personal and strictly autobiographical. You came here while I was on this grandiose mission to share my entire life with everyone. A lot of you got a front row seat to my meltdown. While I was thriving and broken but glowing, you got to see what happens when a person gets decimated.

        I posted it all here when Will died. I had to. For me it was a form of imperfect therapy and I needed to get it out. I wrote things here that I had not even told my wife because I was afraid of her reaction, and if I posted it here I couldn't take it back. I regret that. She shouldn't have learned things about me the same time as you did.

       I wrote so much and said so much that it hurt Will's family to read. I didn't think enough about them when I wrote those words. I saw the damage later. I tried to lay off for a while.

       But then Joe died. I had a lot to say about that. I didn't say much...only what was welling up inside of me. I needed to find a different avenue to express what was inside of me so that I wouldn't hurt those that meant more to me that anything. So I started writing short stories. I wanted to mask what was going on in me in fiction. I wrote a lot over that last couple of years. I think I probably alienated many of the people that came here to see inside of me. To them, I wasn't speaking anymore. To me, I was speaking more than I ever had. I was using symbolism and stories and exposing myself more than ever. I was singing.

        After a while my regular writings felt more like whining to me and I cut down on that. It was more of the same to me, so nothing became extraordinary and wasn't worth sharing. But maybe it was, and I got embarrassed.

        So I got this idea about this podcast. This is a way to spill my guts in both short story and music. I'll be working with Josh and bringing stories about everyday life, masked in extraordinary circumstances to you, while still spilling what's inside of me. We are excited about this venture and plan to release only what inspires us to share. Nothing more. Nothing less. We will be singing.

       What does this mean for this blog? It will go back to my thoughts. I'll try to come back to speaking without riddles and stories to express myself. I'm gonna be open and honest and tell you plainly. I'm a very different person than I was when I started this blog. Those of you that have been readers over the years know this already. I am both a better person and also worse. I have more turmoil and questions. Nothing is cut and dry or black and white with me anymore. I am more complicated. I may need you to help me with directions. I'm still singing and I'm still migrating.





Sing.
Migrate.





Thanks for reading...Z

Where have I been......?

        "Do I know you? Do I even know you?" - S. Carey (Brassy Sun)

        I was watching this Netflix show called "Flaked." You all should watch it. It's funny, yet dramatic and the characters are real. In the very first episode of the second season, there was this scene that I won't spoil. But it punched me in the gut though, like so hard that it took my breath away. The song above played during.

        These words cut into me. "Do I even know you?" It's not speaking to me about knowing you. It's speaking about knowing myself. It hurt because when I look in the mirror most days... lately.... I don't recognize the person I'm looking at. I'm just a person looking at a person. I stand in the shower, the place that I used to do most of my praying, and I find someone just trying to get clean and get out.

        The problem is that I can't just get clean and get out. I have to put in the work and I don't want to. For me to get clean, I have to let go of some things that will bring me great pain to let go of. I'm not ready to do that. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to do that. But I can't continue being who I am now. It isn't me and my entire soul is in mourning because of it. I have to find my way, apart from every dark place that lives inside of me.

        I'm gonna find my way.
        Even if it takes them from me.
        I have to find my way.
        Even if it takes everything I have left.
        I'll find my way.
        With the help of my God, and my family.
        I'm gonna find my way...

        To You.


I'm searching for whales.
I'm searching for me.





Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Horizon

       Guilt is like an old open wine that cannot be swallowed. It fills your mouth with it's bitter gull, but you carry it around with you because you think you deserve it. It's revolting, but you are unable to do the very simplest of things; to spit it out and let it go.

This post is only gonna start sad.

        I'm gonna start with apologies that I should have made when they were alive. I didn't know I owed them until they were gone, because I was selfish and short sighted. In hindsight we are all geniuses right? I have to let the guilt go now. Honestly, I'm so tired.

Will.

You called me in utter distress and I gave you the wrong advice. I should have shut my ignorant mouth and said "I don't know." Instead, I told you what I was programmed to tell you. I'm so sorry.

I took advantage of you like so many other people did. I should have been a person that would never do that. I should have always protected you. You spent hours fixing things for people. You got very little pay or appreciation for it. But it was your time. It was precious moments of your life. Those hours are priceless now to me. I'd give you all of my money to get them back.

I didn't have the strength to go into that garage the day you died and face you. When Joe called me, I went into a different place and went to the basement and sat on a laundry basket. I sat there not knowing what to do. I took the longest route to your house trying to figure out how to handle what was about to cross my life. I walked inside and did not go there to face you. Everyone else did. Not me. It was a cowardly thing to do. If I could do it again, I would have been braver.

Joe.

You were so much work. You lied all the time. You were always crying wolf. I knew you were in trouble. I acted, but not in the ways I should have. At some point, I forgot about that enormous heart you had for me and my family. I forgot that you would have always died for me. That's one of the biggest regrets of my entire life Joe. This one sits in my stomach. I swallowed this bad wine. It sits in my stomach now.

I didn't respond to your text. You texted me the morning you left. I didn't hear it because I decided to leave my job for another that required me to work nights for a time. You texted me at 10:12 AM.  I had worked until 7:30 that morning. I responded at 2:58 PM when I woke. I didn't get a response.

I'd give anything to have that conversation.


Now.

        Like all of their family and friends, I'm finding my way out. I'm trying to find a way to enjoy the sun again. I've made some bad habits that I need to remedy, and I'm almost ready to do that. I have to cut my emotional attachment to feeling bad for something that they did. In the end, they were grown adults that made these terrible decisions that changed the lives of everyone around them. My brother Andy told me in a text the night Joe died, that I had no reason to be blamed. Joe had laid waste to everyone that loved him. I get it now. I didn't then. I could only see guilt. Those left behind, get to deal with the disaster they left behind. We end up trying to fix people that you broke.

        I went through some photographs yesterday. There were so many of you two fooling around. I looked at the photos and realized that they didn't make me hurt in my chest. They made me smile like the photos of my kids when they were babies did. This wasn't always the case. Most times when I see photos of us together, I get and instant stomach ache and it doesn't leave until I pay some penance, usually in the form of an embarrassingly honest post on this blog.

        I've settled in to a life without you two in it. The adjustment period was pretty strenuous, and I'm not saying that's over, but the the crisis part is. I'm enjoying watching my kids grow and become their dreams. I'm enjoying a marriage that is based more on quirky loving banter and less about what lies beneath our everyday speech.

       I think about them everyday, but now I smile. They aren't always ghosts. Sometimes now, they are memories that remind me that I need to be a better person in this sometimes terrible world. I need to fight harder. I need to work on myself and close open doors to darkness.

        All that being said, I'll never stop being sad I don't think. I don't want to. I think sadness allows me to empathize with others. I think it's the reason why God let it happen in the first place. He knit me together knowing I would be garbage to some people. At least I would experience it that way. He also knew about that unspeakable joy I would have in my heart when I got everything I had ever wanted. He gave me everything and took some too. In the end, I'm smiling and happy. I am absolutely broken, but full.

My son is just like me in both the good and bad.

My daughters are just like me in both the good and bad.

My wife is the difference. They resemble her the most in the way they present themselves. They respect themselves and know the difference between good and bad because of her. She is my hero and also theirs. I am happy and fulfilled because of her. I happy because of them. God knew she would be the person who saved me.

        I'll never figure out why my brothers were able to do what they did. I don't have to. For once in my life, I don't have to. They did it, and the "why" is over. I'll always miss them, but I don't need to keep that wine in my stomach.

 







Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Why I left...

     

        I got into youth ministry because I was one of the lost children. I felt what no one ever wants to feel. After the worst things happened, I found myself covered in God. I dedicated all of myself to letting other kids like me know that they are not alone, and that even if they didn't feel it from any human...they are loved. At the very least by their maker from very far and very near.

        I did a very thankless and grueling ministry for the next 11 years. Youth ministry could be described to sports fans as college football recruiting, except, no one wants to come to your program. You come to them and plead...because you care. They almost always walk away from you laughing at you. But the real reason you stay is because some of them say yes. Usually, they are the most rejected ones. They are the ones who live invisible lives. They are looking for meaning anywhere. They are usually the ones abused for false pretenses.

        I never came to anyone with false pretenses. I told them all that living as a Christian in this world would be hard. I told them that people will reject you because of your faith. I wasn't a good youth pastor in the eyes of many. I didn't look at the implications of some of the things I did. I didn't know how to make my vision happen. I didn't know how to make a small group of kids into a successful youth group that could withstand the endless cycle of teenagers. At this time, people demanded numbers in churches and youth groups. Everyone wanted a megachurch. People were wrong, and the right churches were dying because of it. They were being swallowed by megachurches with big production.

        The church was always supposed to be about individual people, so that was my focus with these kids.

        I taught them differently. I spoke to the teenagers like I would have when I was a teenager. I told them the unpopular truth; that life was gonna suck for some of them for a good amount of time. I told them that nothing that they wanted would come from faith alone. It all would come from hard work. I didn't believe that God dealt with handing out free successes to people that weren't trying. I wanted the kids to know that their value would be placed on how God sees them and how hard they worked to earn their place in whatever part of this world they chose to dwell. I used words sometimes that the "church" wouldn't approve of to reach them. I went a long distance to reach them.

         I faced some criticism from some people in our congregation. Some of them wanted to see numbers to justify my employment. The numbers weren't bad at about 30 teenagers, but they didn't justify to them the 30 K that was being spent on me. I started at 30K and ended at 30K a decade and change later. It hurt at the time, but I can see it. People wanted to have a building they could call home and were frustrated with the transient church. They were tired. I was on the chopping block.

        Meanwhile, the church was teeming with young men and women that had come through the youth group, serving those that wished to demolish it. It was absurd. But I couldn't take the heartbreak of having my low paying and thankless job in jeopardy of being cut every year for the desire for bricks. I went back to school out of fear and some common sense insight. I was going to be terminated because I couldn't be who some of them wanted me to be. It would happen eventually. I was wildly supported for the first few years, but I could not keep myself from the thought that I was not valued as a minister to the teenagers of our community. I didn't know how to convince them otherwise.
...

        Then something happened that ended my hopes of keeping the career I had loved so much and hoped to keep forever. My best friend took his life. Part of the difficulties with taking on the role of trying to help troubled youth, is that you have to learn to lose them. I lost a lot of them and I had tried so hard not to. But losing my best friend to suicide; the best friend that had protected me from suicide... that broke me. I lost faith in everything. His name was Will. He always loved me unconditionally.

        Whatever drive or passion I had to continue being the youth pastor that focused on troubled kids was evaporated. I was evaporated. I wasn't the person my wife had married. I was angry and right back in the same angry place I was when I had started. I was lost. I obviously couldn't do the job anymore, so I quit because it hurt so bad to try. It was like a fake and stupid betrayal of what I was actually feeling to tell these kids that life gets better. I had forgotten that life isn't supposed to get better. Just like a stupid American would.

        I quit.

        It wasn't out of anger or resolve. I just couldn't do it anymore. This was my dream job. I can honestly tell you that I haven't been happy since. But I could not lie. I could not continue being passionate about things I didn't know if I believed anymore. It was gut wrenching to leave the service beside 2 of the most honest, kind, and intelligent pastors I could imagine. It hurt so bad that I accepted the reaffirmation of my position and had to go back and decline later. My heart was spilling over and I didn't know how to cope with feeling out of control.

...

        Before I realized God...at my lowest point in my entire life: I laid on some train tracks. Miracles happened to save me. I had spent so much time trying to figure out what and why I was alive. I had to finally admit that God loved me. It was hard to do that because I was born with 2 strikes against me it seemed. I never caught a break. Then out of no where, I got everything I had ever wanted. I got this wife who has laughed with me in every joy, and held my head up in all of these sorrows. She is an angel. I got these kids that are perfect to me, no matter what they do. It gives me a better picture of the grace of God.

        I tried to recover. I couldn't. A few years later, after so much turmoil, Joe would kill himself too. Another brother. Another reason to believe that life is a cruel joke that gives you your dreams, then strips them from you like some prank where everyone is laughing but you.

        So I stayed away.

        I tried to work on Sundays. I tried to make any plans I could on Sundays, so I wouldn't have to go. Sometimes I would just lay in bed staring at the ceiling. But every once in a while, I would go to church on Sunday. Every single time, I felt joy in my heart. I felt the desire to let it go and fall into wherever God is taking me. I wanted so badly to embrace what I let go. I miss them. I cannot seem to fix the things that have been broken in me. In my heart, there was resentment, unforgiveness, and anger. I didn't want to go because I didn't want anything to do with God. Because He was disassembling me again, when I was happy. I felt as though God had hurt me.

        I guess this throws a wrench in my understanding of God and who He is related to who I am. To put it frankly, He is a perfect God and I am an idiot who doesn't understand what's even happening to me; because I cannot find a way to be perfect. This is sin. This is the very reason I sought to help those kids. I wanted to take profoundly imperfect kids and let them see a God that sees them perfectly. Like I once did.




Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

The Problem with Autobiographies

        I once wrote a screenplay about my life. Narcissistic I know, but my friends kept telling me I should. They told me I saw things differently...I do love to write. I do see things differently. If you give me a choice between the positive and the negative, I'm gonna choose the negative, even though I desperately need the positive. It's the classic attitude that everyone sees the positive and I see the truth , situation. That's me. I've seen enough negative to know when it's gonna win.

       I finished writing the screenplay on my in-law's pontoon boat in the middle of the lake that was named "Doc and Tom," after two horses who had drowned due to a winter electrical storm that drove them into an unseasonably thin iced over lake. I typed the last sentence and took it in. I just finished my life as I knew it at that very moment alone, on a boat, with no one cheering me on. It reminded me that most people die with no one watching and without applause. The narcissist in me wants the applause.

        I showed the script to my brothers Will, Joe , and Andy anxiously. People are very sensitive to how they are portrayed to other people. I was nervous to give it to them. A few days later, I got a call. Then another. Joe thought I made him too absent minded, but liked that he was a hero in the end. Will asked to be at the filming to help get it right.

        We were able to score a little money and casted the film through a talent agency with actors that just wanted a screen credit. I ran the casting because I wanted the perfect people for the roles. I casted well. We filmed most of the movie in a couple of months. My wife had a baby during the filming, so of course "Adam the Narcissist" took over and I spent too much time away from them. During filming, one of the lead characters tragically died. She had beaten cancer after a really long fight. She had been in major motion pictures before, so she gave my script the honor of making it her comeback. This was supposed to be her re-birth and she died during filming suddenly; leaving her son, who was also in the movie. This was the biggest reason we killed the film.

...

        I look back now at the footage that will never be seen, that I got it right. The actors were who they should have been...except the one that played me. I purposely left out that I'm not some sad bastard my whole life waiting for something to go right. I laugh more than that. I make jokes because I love when people laugh at them. I'm a clown. I'm and idiot, but I'm sincere. I wrote my best qualities out of my own character. The actor who played me, was really, really good. He played the part I wrote with great precision...but that wasn't me.

        I wanted to shock people. I wanted them to wonder what was wrong with me. I wanted to be someone that people would remember. But instead I wrote my brothers as I saw them, but should have written myself how they saw me. Joe read the script and came to one of the shoots. He watched the shoot and said it was awesome, and that it was accurate...except for my character. He told me that that wasn't me. I wasn't the person I had portrayed myself to be.

        During filming a very fun and intimate scene, Will came out to watch. After the scene was over, he came to me and had tears in his eyes. He told me that he was back there again and that the scene was like a time machine...but...my character wasn't me. I wasn't who I portrayed myself to be. He saw me differently. Joe saw me differently. I saw myself differently.

        I think it takes a good amount of our lives to figure out who we are. I'm not sure this me is the real me either...but I'm gonna live it because right now it feels like home. Maybe things change in a while, but this is me right now writing on a laptop in my basement about the time I wrote about a fictitious character on a pontoon boat on a lake that killed two horses.






Sing.
Migrate.

Thanks for reading...Z

Those Christmas Lights

        They don't see what's broken inside of you because your broken parts are part of your perfection to them. They are family, and to them, you cannot be replaced in a world where everything is replaced.

        I've always said that you can choose your family. This isn't popular with people who have great families and I get that. Laura has a great family, and they are always there for each other. Others who's families could fit into a small room may see it differently. I had two blood relatives at my wedding. My mom, whom I love, and my brother, whom I love. I think that family organically happens with life. You meet these people that you like for one reason or another, and they end up being uncles or aunts to your children. Laura has friends that are family to us and so do I. I think it's beautiful. I think the world is disconnected and separated into terrible categories and labels. It's a really nice feeling to know that someone in this world loves you no matter what. That they are gonna take your side in this world, and kick your ass in private.

        I got to do something really fun and cool today. I got to take the ice where the Red Wings play. I got to play hockey with my friends. We were excited and came out to the ice early to look around and take pictures. As I looked into the huge arena, I got to see all of the families of my friends that came to celebrate a really good day with their dad, or brother, sister, friend, or child. Watching them all take pictures with their family put things into persepective for me. I've been in a bit of gloom this year as I usually am this time of year, but watching these people love each other deeply is a reminder that this life is so great. It's great that I see these terrible things at work, which I've desensitized myself to, then come home to a little boy and two girls that don't see my faults, or forget them quickly. And a 19 year old girl who will drop whatever she is doing to see me. I'ts a warm place. Today felt like Christmas. Any day that feels like Christmas is a good day.

        It is way too easy to focus on the negative. Laura and I find ourselves thinking this way so much and we often remind each other that although the negative is destructive, the positive is a really good reason to keep smiling...to keep forging ahead...to keep reaching our hands out to other people. I'm so thankful for the people in my life that have reached out their hands to me when I needed help to get up. You all know who you are. I hope I've told you how great you are. If not, I will.

        I went to lunch with Will and Joe's mom and dad last week. I struggle when seeing them during the holidays because I don't know what to say to them. I think about my own kids and what it would be like to lose them and I cannot figure out a way to reconcile the fact that those two are still standing...and smiling. As my brother's mother was taking me home, I got this overwhelming sadness all of the sudden that she was going to drop me off and that would be that for Christmas. I had this feeling of dread that I had wasted the time I got to spend with them feeling uneasy. It was at this moment that I remembered that I slept under their roof probably a thousand times. I ate at their table. Their dad took me to canoing trips with them.

        In the car, and all at once, I remembered that they are my family and they chose me as much as I chose them. I felt gratitude. I felt love. I felt sadness, but also togethernes in that sadness. I felt so thankful, because at some point in our history, they stopped seeing me as this loud and often annoying kid and they started seeing me as family.

I can't wait to see the rest of my family this Christmas.

     







Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

The Ghosts of Christmas' Past

        Nothing really has changed about Christmas. Every year, I get excited to put the lights up on the tree and string them across the front of my home. There is something so gratifying about putting lights on my home for me. It's mine. What lives in it is mine, and I am theirs. I work all week and enjoy listening to the same Christmas music on my way that I listened to last year and the years before. They all take me back to the reasons I have always loved Christmas. No matter how bad things had been for me in my life, there was always a savior for me on Christmas.

        I was such a lonely kid. But when I think about Christmas now and remember, everything was so beautiful and perfect. I'd sleep under the Christmas tree, or alternate between the tree and the floor heat register and watch the lights promise me something that no human could ever fulfill in me. I can't think of a single Christmas growing up that was ruined by anything. I'm sure my mom had a few, but she was strong enough to not let me see that. She was always really good at redirection with those kinds of things.

        I moved out and experienced Christmas on my own. This was in a really bad time in my life...the worst actually. Christmas became a thing of sadness for me for reasons I could not even describe at the time. I'd think about all of these great Christmases and get really sad and feel more lonely. So I'd walk around the neighborhood and look into people's front windows to see them be families. Super Creepy, I know.

        I married this woman this one day, and got what I was promised under that tree. I made it my mission to string up the lights on Thanksgiving or a day or two after. Took them down in March, but who's counting. I got to be the family in that front window. My kids came into the world and the only thing I wanted to do was what my mom did for me. I wanted them to believe something very special about Christmas. Something very comforting about a savior being born that would make it all better. Even if everything seemed hopeless.

        The last bit of Christmases have been marred with some pretty terrible stuff. It makes it difficult because I have become at odds with my favorite time of the year. The feeling now makes me so happy and so profoundly sad. My favorite thing is when I get to see Andy and when I get to see Jeff and his family. These are people that are family to me and I don't get to see them much. Then, that reminds me that two of the most influential people in my life aren't here anymore, and that is my worst thing.

                                     I guess the word I would use to descibe it is: Disappointment.

        They were supposed to always be here, with me and for me. But they aren't anywhere I can see them. Me and Will used to cut class and sit on top of his car in the park to kill time. We weren't killing time. We were making the very best of it. We would talk about our future and we were both present in each other's. Me and Joe use to used to carve our names on everything because we wanted to come back decades later and remember what we were when we were kids. So I guess the Ghosts of Christmas' past come to haunt me now.

                                                                          The good news.

        God is still good. Jesus is still our savior. I am still the guy I wanted to be in that front window, albeit a bit more broken. I string up the lights and love watching my kids play in the snow that is now blanketing Michigan, giving millions of kids a day off of school tomorrow. I shield my kids from the things they don't have to see. I think of times with my brothers who were everything but blood to me, and smile. I don't get lonely at Christmas anymore. I am full. I am what little kids under trees want when they are praying hopefully and lonely to an invisible God.

God is good.
God is with us.
God saved me.
Even when it hurts everything inside me to admit.




Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

This American Lie

"And we only saw half of the ballet. I said good night, good bye, seems like a good thing so you know it's a good lie. You can run out of choices, and still hear a voice in your head when you're lying in bed." Counting Crows
 
        We are not who they say we are. We are not those monsters that wait for the failure of others to celebrate. That is only who they say we are...or maybe who we say we are. We are a gentle and loving, empathetic and human species of God's creation. We see the hurt in front of us and we react. We want so badly to speak out or to let ourselves be free of the cultural beliefs that keep us in our little boxes.

        Instead of being who we really are, often we find ourselves being this vicious monster that seemingly cannot wait for the world's destruction. Reading people's comments on social media is enough to say you have had enough...to give up on everyone else. Our election choices are a testament to who we have become. Somehow America has voted for the two worst people to run for president in our history. Because they are polarizing. We are a polarized people. We hate those that don't agree...at least in words. I've heard some terrible things said about the character of people that have shown me genuine kindness and love because of their opinion on who should be president. When I hear them, I get sad because they are wrong about this person. They are judging them because of a belief they have.

        I wish there were a medium at the very least between who we are and who we decide to be. We don't act like who we are. We instead do what is terribly expected of us. America expects the worst in everyone now. So we give it to them because we are angry with the way the world is. We are fighting each other in an attempt to fight ourselves. We are imploding.

        But then I look to my right and in the corner of my eye, I see a sad and lonely kid who is being mentored by a harsh person who wants only to prepare a kid to succeed in a really angry and violent world. To my left I see a little girl being shamed for her weight, only to find another little girl who has invited her over to become her best friend. These are the people that we really are. We actually want to love. We actually would love to make a difference to someone.

        I've had people mistreat me and abuse me. I've seen what the evil in the world wants me to see. I've also been the boot on someone's head. I've seen so much of it. I've found myself buried in the ground so many times, only to feel the gentle hand of a caring and loving person on my shoulders pulling me up again.

        The quote above is from one of my favorite bands of all time. It is a highly relatable message that, if it seems too good to be true, it is a lie. This isn't always true. Some people truly only want the best for you. Some people care, even if they don't know you very well. Some people aren't so bad, and if you give them a chance, I think you will find that they are the very face of God in your life.

        I have two dead brothers that didn't care so much for themselves that continuously pulled me out of the mud and watched over me and protected me. I have people who served as my father when I really needed one. I've had people treat me as their child just because they knew I was hurting and needed something good to happen. For the amount of times I've had my face stomped in the mud, there has always been a savior reaching in to pull me up. These saviors are who we are I think. At heart, we feel beautifully. In action, we practice the lie. We have got to find a way to reconcile the two or the entire world is doomed.



Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

This American Lie

"And we only saw half of the ballet. I said good night, good bye, seems like a good thing so you know it's a good lie. You can run out of choices, and still hear a voice in your head when you're lying in bed." Counting Crows
 
        We are not who they say we are. We are not those monsters that wait for the failure of others to celebrate. That is only who they say we are...or maybe who we say we are. We are a gentle and loving, empathetic and human species of God's creation. We see the hurt in front of us and we react. We want so badly to speak out or to let ourselves be free of the cultural beliefs that keep us in our little boxes.

        Instead of being who we really are, often we find ourselves being this vicious monster that seemingly cannot wait for the world's destruction. Reading people's comments on social media is enough to say you have had enough...to give up on everyone else. Our election choices are a testament to who we have become. Somehow America has voted for the two worst people to run for president in our history. Because they are polarizing. We are a polarized people. We hate those that don't agree...at least in words. I've heard some terrible things said about the character of people that have shown me genuine kindness and love because of their opinion on who should be president. When I hear them, I get sad because they are wrong about this person. They are judging them because of a belief they have.

        I wish there were a medium at the very least between who we are and who we decide to be. We don't act like who we are. We instead do what is terribly expected of us. America expects the worst in everyone now. So we give it to them because we are angry with the way the world is. We are fighting each other in an attempt to fight ourselves. We are imploding.

        But then I look to my right and in the corner of my eye, I see a sad and lonely kid who is being mentored by a harsh person who wants only to prepare a kid to succeed in a really angry and violent world. To my left I see a little girl being shamed for her weight, only to find another little girl who has invited her over to become her best friend. These are the people that we really are. We actually want to love. We actually would love to make a difference to someone.

        I've had people mistreat me and abuse me. I've seen what the evil in the world wants me to see. I've been the boot on some's head. I've seen so much of it. I've found myself buried in the ground so many times, only to feel the gentle hand of a caring and loving person on my shoulders pulling me up again.

        The quote above is from one of my favorite bands of all time. It is a highly relatable message that, if it seems too good to be true, it is a lie. This isn't always true. Some people truly only want the best for you. Some people care, even if they don't know you very well. Some people aren't so bad, and if you give them a chance, I think you will find that they are the very face of God in your life.

        I have two dead brothers that didn't care so much for themselves that continuously pulled me out of the mud and watched over me and protected me. I have people who served as my father when I really needed one. I've had people treat me as their child just because they knew I was hurting and needed something good to happen. For the amount of times I've had my face stomped in the mud, there has always been a savior reaching in to pull me up. These saviors are who we are I think. At heart, we feel beautifully. In action, we practice the lie. We have got to find a way to reconcile the two or the entire world is doomed.



Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

The Little Things

     
        I was alive until I didn't want to be, then I was alive again because I saw the evidence of God present in my life. I lived pushing and bleeding for the next 20 years, taking only the satisfaction of being someone beautiful to someone else. I wanted to be someone I never thought I could be. I wanted to redeem all of the anger going on inside me.

       Then all of the windows in my life broke and I became destitute. I fell asleep and have been asleep for 6 years. 6 wasted years focusing on painful things. Ok, that's not fair. I'll take off 2 years for actual grief for my brothers gone. The other 4 have been spent in anger, irrational and self righteous rage. But an anger I still cannot deny. It's here now, and I think it may have never left. Maybe I just covered over it...or maybe I just painted brown over all of the blue God had made in me. It doesn't matter now. I'm still here, where I am and who I am.

        I believe. I believe all of the fundamental things about God I have for the last 25 years. It's the little things that bother me...maybe because of arrogance, maybe because it's not reality to me. Christian words make my stomach hurt. Words like fellowship, disciples, and prayer chain. It isn't that those things aren't good or real or someone's hope. They just aren't words that connect me with God or people. They separate me. They are strange words that people don't use outside of church. I don't think we should use words that aren't used all over. It makes us sound strange for no reason. If we are to appear strange, make it because of our actions and not our antiquated words.

        The truth is. I need a prayer chain. I just don't want to hear about someone's prayer chain. That is very personal. I want people to not only pray for me, but to intervene. I love fellowship, but I want genuine relationships that don't have some ulterior motive of saving me or fixing me in some way. I am a disciple in that I am a person trying to learn about Jesus. I am not a disciple in some righteous and authoritarian sort. I'm a profoundly flawed person who desperately is searching for the right way to be me as a son of God.

For example:

Fellowship: My pastor and friend Dave twice has seen me face down in anguish. Twice he picked me up and held me together and chose not to lecture me, even when he definitely could have. Instead, he took me once to a movie, then another to a very meaningful concert. It meant more to me than a potluck or a planned fun event. I don't condemn those either, but I personally identify with someone reaching into the mud and grabbing me by the hair and pulling me up.

Disciples: I was a 19 year old going through all of these terrible things and had just decided I didn't want much more time here. Long story short, I decided that I needed God. I called the only person I knew to call that wasn't a christiany Christian. I called my old friend Jim. He worked in home improvement at the time. He hired me to work with him. Just me and him on roofs, hauling and hammering shingles. The work was hard, but he used this entire time to teach me things about life and faith and how to deal with loss.

        I think that faith is right here and right now and should be lived using the most understandable language possible, because that is what hurting people relate to. I think that any sort of love is good right now.





Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Right Now

It returns to you in the night, while you are the most vulnerable. Your eyes open to a sun dimmed and a weight on your entire body that slows everything.

It's been happening my whole life. Some days i'm so happy. Others, i'm so sad. Then some days I'm droning on, acting like a clown just to maintain.

Every fall, things feel really bad. Strange that this is still my favorite season of the year. The death of the leaves and the fall of the sun has a way of changing everything about me. I see both hope and despair. But mostly during these times, I see despair. The good news is that I know this is just in my head at this time. It took me so many years to realize this will go away and change and I'll feel better on the other side. So that builds a hope in me. One that pushes me to be better and to work harder at being who I'm supposed to be. To be what I think I'm capable of. I'm not there yet and I'm struggling to find the right path to that.

Set em up for the dead end kids...

They aren't here. It's just me. Sitting on the curb next to our sign. No one passes here. You all have to turn around. Not even us. My brothers took a road that I won't.

I try not to write about them. It hurts all of us. I made this blog to be honest and document my life for anyone to read. But I'm not really writing about honest things much. I write short stories to tell you about me now. It's too hard and cumbersome both to write and for you to read. And to be honest, when I made this blog, I didn't foresee all of this trauma and had no idea what it would be like to share it like it were a television show.

I'm right here. I'm in right now. I struggle with the past. I struggle with the future. I love people so much. I love my family. I love my friends. I love it when people love me too. But right now, the lights are a little less bright and music is building it's way into a crescendo to Christmas...where I will face death and rebirth every year.






Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z