Were the Deer and the Antelope to Play: July 2003

Sent: 7/29/2003 12:43 PM

I have given myself another one of my infamous haircut disasters only days away from going home to see my family. Attention: Hair Disaster. Of course, my New York habitat says, "It's Chad. It's you. It's cool!" meanwhile I shriek, "I look like an escapee from a mental ward."

Not picking fun, just being honest. =)

It's a rather -I'm ten years old and thought I'd cut my own hair for the first time- kind of looks. A tad too close a shave in some wrong places. Somehow, I was ten again. I tried. A little too hard. If I had just left it right when it was kind of okay, not perfect, but good enough. If I had just stopped right there. But I didn't. I wanted it perfect.

Humanity proved that wasn't possible this time, as I carved a closer than normal streak on the left side of my head. Yes, it's noticeable. Yes, it's unmistakable. AND I go home to Arkansas on Friday! I'm in pain.

Anyone know a good toupee artist?

Not that I would. =)

Laugh. When you are being the child in your heart outloud, the world tends to think you are a mental case. And yet somehow by the people who know me in New York my disaster is cool? Life is hilarious.

* * *

Thank you God. For every Divine mistake Graced by Christ.

Makes it all Good.

Free.

Sent: 7/9/2003 1:04 PM

I haven't written for some time now. Even now, as I write this to you, the words do not come easily. It is as if I have to tug and pull at them, like that donkey that just won't budge from its post. Furthermore, then, I must work very hard at sitting on them and spurring them onward so that they will continue to ride across the page. Stubborn mule. Jackass. "What's wrong with me?"

Well, firstly, I haven't had a computer for some time now. The screen on the one I was using at home blinked out a couple of months ago. The laptop's screen is now only visible when positioned at a 35 degree from the keypad. Awkward viewing. Impossible typing. As for the computer at work, well, I usually don't have time to write there, not without distraction, and this is something that I enjoy giving my undivided attention. So, it's made for a long time without hearing from me, and I apologize for that.

Also, there has been a lot going on in my life which has kept me preoccupied. Thanks and praise to God, I moved into my own apartment at the end of June. I do adore it aside from the annoyances which are just 'life': dust-covering-construction pounding on the building next door early every morning (except Saturday and Sunday); the multi-pitched dog across the street who barks a screeching melody intermittently throughout the day and night and late night, abrasive enough to break the finest crystal; and the lack of air conditioner, further the lack of approval to have an air conditioner, during this still hot humid summer heat in New York City. Nonetheless, it's mine, and I'm certainly taken with it.

On the first floor of a brownstone near Morningside Park, my tiny studio has a large picture window facing the tree-lined street and the neighbor brownstones resting on the other side. All have long stepped stoops on which we as residents sit, try to catch some cool breezes, and restfully watch the world go by, most with friendly smiles and waves and knowing winks and nods. It actually reminds me a lot of Sesame Street, minus the plush and feathers.

I've gotten to know my neighbors, and all of them have been so cordial and friendly. Okay, that's not to say that some of them aren't grouches, for I have spoken with a few Oscars. Yet all seem willing to want to know each other, something quite rare in this city and, today, perhaps parts of America. Yes, I'm blessed with that now almost uncommon feeling of community that still tries to burn here at the present. Thankfully, the friendly mix of those who have lived here for as long as they can remember and those who have only just arrived still manage to be interested in one another. I'm understanding that it is this want to know that makes my new block beautiful beyond just its brownstoned aesthetic.

Of course, I can't help but maintain the fear that as New York City edges closer to an island of the elite, and more of these brownstones are bought and sold for extraordinary amounts of money, many families that have lived here for decades will be pushed to leave. With the neighborhood's roots severed, with far less familiar faces, less socializing among neighbors, will this community dwindle from its little fire to a mere glow. Not if I can help it.

Not if I can help it.

Can I help it?

Can I help?

Can I help me?

Ahhh, you see, that leads me right back to where the mule stood dead in its tracks just moments ago. See, all this discourse about my computer folly, my apartment, the neighborhood and community, has been a wonderful yet lengthy circular path back to the real issue at hand. The real reason my words weren't moving in the first place. It's the answer to "What's wrong with me?" While everything is seeming okay, still the words to that answer stumble over piles of manure.

Step.

I just have to say it.

Step.

I'm afraid.

Here I am, all by myself, abode in a little bitty but charming apartment, starting a trek out on my own, with walking staff in hand, and nothing to my name, absolutely terrified. All day today I found myself in and out of tears in wondering if I will be able to make it. Isn't that almost funny? I came to New York many many moons ago without a thought as to whether or not I would be able to do it, I just planned to do it and did it, and yet here I sit, much later, feeling an anxiety, a lack of trust in myself. And, truth be told, there have been mistakes that I have made that have caused me to be less trusting of my own humanity. A heavy fear lays over me. Scared.

***

So I take it to the Lord in prayer:

God please forgive me my mistakes. Help me to learn from each one so as to not make them again.

And by Your might alone, by Your amazing Grace, I shall make it.

I believe.

I know.

I'll make it.

For You once told me:

"Fear not, for I am with you always."

Thank You.

***

And the mule charges full speed ahead.

Were the Deer and the Antelope to Play

Thursday, July 31, 2003

PREACH LOVE : hesitation

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

PREACH LOVE : The good bad hairdo

PREACH LOVE : me today

PREACH LOVE : one wing

Wednesday, July 9, 2003

PREACH LOVE : Fraidy Mule