dancing with the devils

I have a strange, sometimes sketchy memory.  I sometimes wonder if I latch on to friends with the hope they will tell some long lost story of our tom foolery so I catch a glimpse of the past I was a participant in but for some reason escapes me.

I’m not as smart as I pretend to be.  My vocabulary is not as extensive as my inner self says it should be.  I mispronounce words often, and just recently nailed down the proper use of to, too, two, but still triple check my text messages so I don’t look stupid. 

I’m quick to anger, judgment and sarcasm.  I recently moved into a home with my wife – and one of the first things I did was arranged the empty boxes on the front porch in a way that didn’t look “trashy” so people driving by said house wouldn’t think we were inconsiderate college kids with daddy’s money.

I still haven’t read half of the books I own, even though I love to display them. I often adjust every little aspect of my life possible to paint just the right picture of the man I think strangers want to see. I intrinsically feed my ego with tiny, often harmless actions and I am calling bulls**t on me. 

Fear, pride and narcissism dance around me, prodding me, whispering in my ear.

You know folks can see through you. You know you are better than that guy across the street, walking in the store, posting on twitter. You know your friend who is a die-hard [fill in the blank] just doesn’t get it like you do. You know wealth is a worthy pursuit. Hold on to your money, just be smart. Take care of your family. Why give your money to people you don’t even know.

 Peace.  Be still. I pray it. I cry for it.  I ask for empathy. I ask for wisdom. I ask for a peace that passes all understanding, and reflect on His command to not fear. Do not fear. DO NOT FEAR.  do not fear. do not fear. 


Laurel, MS.

Laurel, MS.