Holy Smokes

Sheesh, it's been over a year since I've posted anything here. That is uhhh, not like me. It's not that I don't or didn't have anything to say, I have plenty of thoughts still ramblin' around in my head. I even wrote some out, but they never quite made it to publication, as you can tell. But I came back here today to very briefly describe some events that I believe changed the course of my life. Shook me to my very core. Cheesy and dramatic, I know. But that's the truth. For some, it might come off as nutty, and for some it may make perfect sense. The vulnerability that comes with writing subjects writers to an immense amount of judgement and to that I say, "whateva." People can either take you as you are, or they can go about their way. "Those who mind don't matter, and those that matter don't mind." These things changed my life, and continue to make me the man that I am. So shit, I'm gonna write about it! 

A little over a year ago I began to start taking my Faith a little more seriously... well, actually, a lot more seriously. On a hot September day in the hellscape that is California during fire season, I had a wakeup call from God himself that I couldn't ignore. The thing is, in the moment I didn't even realize it was Him shaking me awake and telling me to start paying attention. It wasn't until after that wakeup call, when I could sit down and process the situation, that I realized the only real explanation for the outcome of the events was divine intervention. It was nothing short of a miracle. And there was no way I was shrugging this one off.

In my line of work folks are bound to have close calls, it is just the nature of the job. We can take steps to mitigate the risks of the job, but we will never be able to eliminate all risk. So you learn to take them in stride, learn from them, and try to keep your head on a swivel and see things before they come down the barrel. It's almost funny, really. In some morbid, fucked up sense, but beyond learning how to better avoid the close calls, I never really gave much thought to the close calls that I had. The rollout that had missed me by a hair, the wind that died down just in time, or the tree that unexpectedly came down and crushed the tools beside me, but spared me. It was as if I was getting these warning signs to start living right, to start giving the glory to God, to pay attention in this life and be grateful for the sacrifices that were made in order for me to have the life that I do. But I didn't want to listen. Or maybe just never thought to or cared enough to listen. To really listen. I just kind of shrugged those situations off as good luck or good fortune or fate. I was even told by a crew member that my guardian angels weren't just any ordinary guardian angels, no, they were in fact tactical guardian angels. Always on edge, always ready to protect me. I laughed it off and went on with the job at hand. It's as if I didn't really care about what what my maker was trying to teach me through these scenarios. And looking back now, perhaps I didn't care too much because I was the only one involved in these scenarios. Oh it's just me? No big deal.

But then that September day in California came. And for no good reason I decided I was going to say a little prayer for our crew, it wasn't really anything I had done before. But it was something that I felt I needed to do. A little tug on my sleeve saying I couldn't just let that feeling go, I had to do something about it. So I said, "hey guys, this might be weird but I'm just gonna say a little prayer quick." So I did, and it was probably weird, and then we all went about our normal routines. There was nothing unusual about the day, there was nothing exciting happening and there was nothing exciting expected to happen. At some point all hell broke loose, and things got very exciting, very fast. And the kicker was it didn't even directly involve me. But I was so taken aback at what happened, that it hit me harder than any close call I have ever personally had. And I had no one but God to thank for keeping everyone safe, and alive.

The situation reminds me of a quote, "Happiness is only real when shared." The reason that this quote comes to mind is because in each scenario that I personally experienced a close call, I didn't feel very impacted by it, it didn't really bother me. But the scenario that involved my very best friends, people I would nearly consider as my own family, that impacted me. Significantly more so than anything that could happen to me would. I guess what I'm trying to say is that when it was only me involved, it didn't matter. But when it was those whom I care about involved, who I share laughs, meals, memories, and life with, it did. It mattered so much more. And it took God showing me that He could take it all away in a mere second for me to really understand that. And that was something that could not be ignored. 

So I made a commitment, and it was an easy choice. All glory to God. Growing up I always had Faith, but I wouldn't say I ever really took it seriously. I prayed before bed here and there, and before meals sometimes when I was with my grandparents. I even went to church... sometimes... usually on Christmas and Easter. But even doing all of those things as often as a "good Christian" should, I don't think that is what makes you a good Christian, or a good person. Hell, I don't think any of us will ever really know if we were good people until we're called home. But I do think our purpose here is to learn more about our maker, and how we ought to live. I think we can do that by forming a relationship with Him. And we do that by learning about Him, talking to Him, and living more like Him. How do we do that? We read our Bible, we say our prayers, and we live in a way that Jesus did, respectively. Will we achieve that? No, but that's not the point. Then what's the point you may ask? I don't know, why don't you just try it and see. The beauty of it is, He will meet you exactly where you are, there are no prerequisites. You can just start. And eventually, you'll find a peace you didn't know was possible. By the end of it all, you'll probably think, "Holy smokes, what a life."