730 days ago...

I'm humbled by the miles I've traveled in the past 730 days.  Two years ago this morning I set off on a journey of discovery.  I was desperate to find peace and to answer questions that I had bouncing uncontrollably within.  I honestly wasn't sure I wanted to live another moment.

Everything I felt that I needed to move forward in my life was neatly tucked away in storage, I closed the door.  The clacking as the door rolled shut to the life that was no more.  I desired peace, but didn't know that I had the strength to find it.

As the door hit the concrete, I reached for the latch and slowly put the lock on the door.  The question of WHO would open this door was on my mind, honestly, I prayed within it would be me.  

Without a doubt I had work to do, only this work wasn't a home to rebuild or a fence to straighten.  It was work within and the darkness scared me to death.  I was now a man faced with the reality of my past, I had to face it to move to the future.  

Several years before as I stood at my sons grave, the traffic continued to go by without a hint of slowing.  I wanted the world to stop, I couldn't afford another second forward.  Every second forward was a second farther from the last hug my son and I shared.  The distance in seconds was like a spaceship hurling toward Mars.

As I walked away from my things in storage and sat in my car with my hand on the ignition, I knew the days ahead would be difficult.  The spaceship was me, tumbling toward a world I didn't understand.  Afraid to breath, afraid to blink.  Seconds seemed liked hours.

730 days ago I set off on a journey of self discovery, what I found inspired me.  What I found within beyond the muck, the despair and the regret was a man who stood strong.  "This no more" I proclaimed, "there must be another".  

There was and there is.  In the darkness I inspired.  In the darkness I inspired myself.  I will and I can.  I found my answers within, the questions vanished.  

Growing pains...

I remember growing up how badly my legs would ache at times.  From my sophomore year in high school to my senior year, I grew 4".  It felt as though I was being stretched nightly and the ache is something I still remember to this day.

The parrallels to the past years have been amanzingly similar.  For the longest time, I really thought my life changed when Blake died.  If I were to be truthful, it all changed when my first divorce took place. 

The tragedy was my first true experience of inner crisis.  Broken, regret, scattered, anger, hopeless, frustrated, the list of emotions, actions and reactions to what I was feeling could go on and on.  It was my first experience of trying to pick up my sticks.(I will blog on dropping the sticks another day)

The crisis that followed my divorce was the first real experience of looking within and openly sharing what I was thinking.  Then, much like now, I took on the renovation of a very old home.  As I did the renovation, I began feeling the growing pains, only these pains were from within my heart and mind.

Many times during the reonvation of the home I'm doing at West 17th, I've stood back and had flashbacks of across the street doing the Elm Street house. (For those of you who don't know, I'm a renovator of anything.  I rebuild homes and through this work, I see how I've restored my life.  I've come full circle, now restoring a home built in 1909 and it sits directly across the street from the historical home I restored when my son died)

The difference between Elm and West 17th is that I've had many growing pains.  The death of my son, a second divorce, the emptiness that transpired.  I've felt crisis like never before, yet I'm here today living a life in the moment and filled with treasure.  Honestly, as I sit and write this morning my eyes are filled with tears at how I've grown.  

The tears are a mixture of saddness and happiness, I'm still growing and will forever grow within.  It's when I began seeing the single blade of grass within the meadow did I understand that my strength comes from within.  It's not always a rock, sometimes the pressure is overwhelming.  

Yet here I am, in this moment.  Blessed beyond measure, in my weaknesses and strengths, a rebuilder of lives.  It's good to be home within.  I traveled 33,000 miles to this place, within.



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