Its Been so Long


I hear you whisper, “Ray, where are you. You have been away for to long now.”

“I’m sorry Father, all this work just keeps driving you out, driving you out.”

I know I’m hurting, and I know exactly what I need to do, yet its so hard.

My foot treads lightly, doubting the only solid ground, I’ve known thus far.

How could you love me, after all these wicked things Ive done, these things I do?

With all my sinning, I stick this spear deep within you, all the way through.

I feel so empty, how did I fall this far, what have I missed.

Father I beg you, take me away from all this, with clenching fists.

“Enough is enough, son you are made to be just like me, your blood I bleed.”

Sometimes we must die, in order to be set free. I’m finally clean.


Father I’m running, faster than I ever have before, right to your door.

Your arms wide open, Loving me as you did, you do, forever more.

My fear escaping, I finally feel your peace, it consumes me!

You take me burden, the weight is no longer heavy. I can Finally breathe.

“Now that I’m home Lord, please allow me to obey your will. What is your will?”

“I only ask you to believe in me, and tell the world I’m real, I love them still”.

“Please let them know, I love them still.”

“I love you still.”


Broken Glass


When I was a boy, I wanted to grow up to be a baseball player. It was my dad’s dream more than my own, but still the idea fascinated me. The driveway of my childhood country home was well equipped with an array of various rocks of all sizes. Being a boy, I loved to throw these rocks for substantial amounts of time, given I had but a little sister, for my brother had moved out, and being on the poorer end of society, not many others forms of entertainment were presented to me. An indention on a tree, the pigs or dogs, and the mailbox were all suitable targets, but never did I dare whirl myself around and throw in the direction of the house. It had been imprinted in my brain to respect and protect the little that we did have, and therefore the trees suffered most of my punishment. However, on a warm summer evening, my sister stepped up to our glass screen door, peering into the front yard to catch eyes with me holding a golf ball sized rock in my hands. A sudden unexplainable urge came over me in  that moment, and I had no choice but to hurl the rock at what seemed to be an incredible speed, directly at my little sisters face. She made no attempt to get out of harms way, for time did not allow for plausible thoughts to be conjured, one must simply accept the flash of consequences at hand. The glass shattered into a million pieces, sharp blades encompassed my sisters being. Immediately, I feared for the worst. After the initial shock of my terribly rash decision, I ran up the wooden stairs of our porch, skipping a step at a time, as accustomed, to make sure she was ok. By the grace of God, not a mark was laid upon the child, not a cut to be found. My young mind wondered how this was so, for I saw the pieces of glass fly everywhere. I picked a piece up to inspect it more thoroughly, dullness was not among its qualities. Mind boggled, I went to look at the scene of the crime, the screen door. As i stared at it for quite some time, something in my brain clicked, for I now knew the answer. The glass was entirely busted, except for a small portion in one of the corners, yet my memory permits me from stating a specific one, which was decorated by a small sticker that was placed there by my mother. The sticker was a black cross, untouched and standing proudly, placed upon the glass with purpose, a living object that needed no heart. In this moment I was acquainted with God’s desire to save, to protect, to stand alone when the fragile glass we build shatters and is no more. So many times I choose to go my own way in life, to put other stickers on my screen door, or even try to cover up the cross in the corner. God knows how I need him in the center, for I always end up broken without him.