As a favor to me and Jon, would you please vote for his band to tour with YES? Just follow the link below to cast your vote:

http://www.addictedtonoise.com/contest/?name=your-move-with-yes

Last night was such a time. My drive home was an emotional roller coaster. Thoughts of Debbie and the season flew through my mind, staying just long enough to send me into uncontrolled tears. I calmed down somewhat after I got home and planned some errands for after the nightly news. One thing that had been nagging at me for a couple of weeks was to find the local Anglican Church that I had heard about here in town. I wanted to go to their Christmas mass and eventually consider joining the congregation if I like the setting. I had been meaning to locate the church but had been putting it off. Last night, the thought kept nagging at me and I finally relented and looked them up on the web. As it turned out, the church was very close to where I needed to do my errands so I made the decision to run by there and see the church. Little did I know that my trip would turn out to be pre-ordained and it would profoundly change my season. As I turned onto the main road in front of my subdivision, I completely lost my rational train of thought. My entire mind turned to Christ, his birth, my relationship with him, Deb, her death, the reasons for it, and generally all of the things I had been dealing with over the last several days. I went back into the deep depression and emotional pit I had been in on my way home and I don’t remember much of anything of the drive to the church. I just wept uncontrollably as I drove. I do remember saying to myself “You are going in and pray” and answering myself “Yes, I will, Yes, I will” but other than that, it was a near miracle that I didn’t have a grinding accident getting there.

There were a few cars in the parking lot as I arrived. Not unusual considering the season – probably choir practice or something. I went into the narthex and didn’t find anyone in the offices or sacristy areas so I proceeded through the double doors into the sanctuary area. The nave was empty and I felt immediately at home. I was raised Episcopal and all of the iconography was very familiar and felt like home. I sat in the front pew and took out two pictures of Deb and began to weep as I carried on a conversation with her and the Lord. I didn’t so much pray as I just asked for help getting this old fool through the season. I tend not to pray for myself much at all. It’s not a good thing but I don’t feel worthy of asking prayers for myself when there are so many that need so much more than I do. But tonight I was more despondent than I had been in awhile and my pleas came from my heart like turning on a faucet. I just sat there and looked Deb’s pictures and talked to her like she was sitting there with me. At one point, someone entered the back of the church but they left pretty quickly when they saw me. I don’t know how long I was there but when I was finished, I made the sign of the cross and got up and left through the doors that I came in.

There was an older gentleman in the lobby area that turned to me as if to say something but I wasn’t in any shape to speak to any one right at that moment. I was still quite emotional and I whisked by him on my way to the side doors. When I pushed on the door to the outside and crossed the threshold my Christmas miracle occurred. Precisely at that moment, the carillion bells chimed the bottom of the hour. I recognized their significance as soon as their sound hit my ears. My sweetheart had heard my prayer and given me the sign I needed to bring peace to my heart. It did just that. I looked up to the night sky and shouted “Thank you, Baby – Thank you Lord!” and repeated it over and over until I got in my truck. It was just what this old fool needed.

So friends, don’t worry for me. My heart and my head have been given peace. And I wish to pass that peace to all of you. May the peace that passes all understanding be with you and yours this season and may the words of your mouth and the meditations of your heart be always acceptable in his sight. Merry Christmas! Amen

I could probably add a third friend to that list but in a round-about way. She was one of my first contacts here on 360 and I was absolutely crazy about her from first sight. But the reality of it was that we probably weren’t meant for each other and if there’s something I’ve learned to accept in the last couple of years, its reality. Yesterday, I found out that she has found a loving, caring, and totally compatible mate – right here on 360 – and it hit me in a way that I didn’t expect. I wasn’t jealous…well ok, maybe a little jealous. But I wasn't green in the way you might think. I’m very happy for her and her discovery. She deserves the best and it looks like she’s found something worth hanging onto. My flaw is comparing her life to mine – since she can find happiness, why can’t I? That’s unfair to all of us. This great woman has been unwavering in her support of me like the others, and she’s done it from a long distance. I’m now happy to say that the things that separated us are gone and we’re once again close.

So yesterday, I’m here at work in the office and we’ve got the radio on enjoying tunes of the season when I hear “The Christmas Shoes”. The song was written by Eddie Carswell and originally performed by Newsong, a Christian group that recorded it in 1999. Of all of the heart string tuggers the broadcasters haul out at this time of the year, “The Christmas Shoes” never fails to wipe me out and it has done so for years. Yesterday was no different…when the lyrics came to the spot where the little boy says “Momma made Christmas good at our house”, I simply wept. It was just like that at our house. Christmas was Deb’s holiday and she made it great for everyone around her. The memories flooded back and I couldn’t contain them any longer. Last year – so soon after her passing – I was in such a cloud that the holiday didn’t affect me in the same way. I was numb and barely breathing, merely existing in the cocoon of fuzzy air that was my reality at the time. I had no connection to the past or the future and life was a slow reel that played in front of me like a silent movie. This year, I have all of the past years events and the lifetime before that to dwell on and the burden of my journey just became too much to hold in for that moment. So I blogged.

Like I would in the same instance, my friends came to my rescue. Your advice is sound and perfect. I just don’t understand why those simple and easy to understand ideas aren’t there when I’m going crazy like they are after my meltdown? That’s the most frustrating thing. I’m rational before and I’m rational after…what the hell happens in between?

Today I’m in a fragile state but coping. Thank you all for your concern, kindness, and especially your understanding. You gave me just what I was asking for in my whine yesterday and you didn’t even have to kiss me afterwards! That might make you the luckiest of each of us but I consider myself blessed to have you there for me.

And for those that haven’t heard it, here are the lyrics to “The Christmas Shoes”…

It was almost Christmas time
There I stood in another line
Trying to buy that last gift or two
Not really in the Christmas mood.
Standing right in front of me
Was a little boy waiting anxiously
Pacing around like little boys do
And in his hands he had a pair of shoes.
And his clothes were worn and old
He was dirty from head to toe
And when it came his time to pay
I couldn't believe what I heard him say.
Sir, I want to buy these shoes, for my Momma please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her style
Could you hurry Sir? Daddy says there's not much time
You see, she's been sick for quite a while.
I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
They counted pennies for what seemed like years
And the cashier said, Son there's not enough here
He searched his pockets franticly
Then he turned and he looked at me.
He said, Momma made Christmas good at our house
Though most years she just did without
Tell me Sir, what am I gonna do?
Some how I gotta buy her these Christmas shoes.
So I laid the money down, I just had to help him out
And I'll never forget the look on his face
When he said, "Momma's gonna look so great."
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Momma please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her style
Could you hurry Sir? Daddy says there's not much time
You see, she's been sick for quite a while.
And I know these shoes will make her smile
I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
I knew I caught a breathe of heaven's love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy to remind me
What Christmas is all about.
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Momma please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her style
Could you hurry Sir? Daddy says there's not much time
You see, she's been sick for quite a while.
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.

This season has brought a fog to my outlook. It’s hit me quickly and hard. Why now and why so strong, especially since I’ve long declared myself “well”?

I know that no one person has the answers to these questions. The answers are all found within but they hide like children at play when I need them the most.

Such is the case this morning. I received an email from Deb’s best friend Cindy. We hadn’t talked in awhile and we were catching up on the most recent developments in our lives. She is a dear, dear friend and I love her a lot. In closing, she wrote this simple line:

“Hope you and Brian are well and you are back to your creating as well.”

And when I read that, I just cried. Cindy knew that, not only had we lost our mother and wife, but I had lost the drive to create – anything. I’ve attempted to stay current and to keep my interests floating but it’s been a huge struggle. Frustration doesn’t begin to describe what I feel when I get like this. It doesn’t help that I’m in a creative field as a profession and I MUST be on top of that just to get along day to day. But when I get home, doing something for the sake of art is the furthest thing from my mind. At times, I feel like I’m dying inside – I’ve lost so much this last year and I often fear losing the creativity that has made me who I am for most of my life.

So thank you Cindy. For being a friend and for being the kind of friend that has true understanding and not just sentiment. You give me hope. You are special and I count myself lucky to call you friend too.