Dangers of Liberation (Part Seven)

This is the final post of a seven-part series.   Though it will make more sense if you read all six of the previous posts in the series, I won’t be so demanding as to insist upon it.  My hope is that it will stand on its own, enough to secure your interest.  I don’t differ from many other writers, in this regard.

My knees got hit pretty badly by the pavement on which I had slammed them down.  They would be swollen the next day.  But I did not care.   When I stood up from the prayer I had screamed, something was different.  There was an eerie calm about my spirit that suggested a newfound confidence.   I had never prayed a prayer like that before.

St. Paul wrote: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”  — (Philippians 4:8-9)

Nobody is an atheist in a foxhole.  I prayed more prayers in the trenches of homelessness than I had prayed at any more respectably churchgoing phase in m life.  But I had never felt a sense of peace engulf me as it did when I stood up from that prayer.   For the first time in twelve years, I had cast aside the sting of stigma, of all the things that people supposed my homeless experience to entail, and prayed directly that I would be granted a home.

It wasn’t long after that I remembered an old associate of mine.   It crossed my mind that a certain music teacher I’d worked with in the past had offered to get me a one-way ticket to anywhere I thought I could start a new life.   I remember being somewhat perplexed when he added: “I’m not trying to get rid of you, by the way.”  (This obviously planted the thought in my head that he was in fact trying to get rid of me.)

Whatever the case, we met to discuss the matter.  He told me he was no longer teaching, but had received a large retirement.  So he reiterated his offer, suggesting he fly me to Belize.  That was a bit far away for me.   

So I told him I would start googling keywords designed to land me in a part of the United States where I thought I would flourish.   I began to google things like “college town,” “small town,” “affordable rent,” and “low crime rate.”  I also threw in demographics tailored to my tastes, for I tend to thrive in the colder temperatures.    It wasn’t too long before the city “Moscow, Idaho” began to surface.

“This is bizarre!” I told myself.   “I was born in Moscow Idaho — but I only lived here for the first year of my life.   I know nothing about this place, except for that my dad was teaching ROTC at some college, and that he was transferred to San Diego or Long Beach shortly after I was born.”

As the city of Moscow began to work its way further up toward the front page, I took my leap of faith. 

“Why is it that I have never even pondered this town?  Nor wished to return to it?   One think I’d have been curious.  But I wasn’t — until now.”  

On a hunch, I looked on Craigslist for a room.   I saw a studio room with a kitchenette in a converted residence hotel now called the “Friendship Apartments.”  To my astonishment, the room rented for only $275 a month.

I sent pictures to my friend.  “How much do you think this rents for?” I asked.

“Oh – I don’t know.  Maybe $900?”

“Try $275.”

“We’re on!” he shouted.

Shortly later, he was buying me a $200 one-way ticket at the Transbay Terminal in San Francisco.  Forty-eight hours later, on July 27, 2016, exactly ten days after I had prayed that unprecedented prayer, I was sleeping indoors in a place of my choosing.

I have been sleeping indoors, in places of my own choosing, ever since.  Twelve years of degrading, debilitating, demeaning, undignifying, dehumanizing homelessness was ended that simply.   It was as easy as that.

I had only asked for “a lock on a door, a window, and a power outlet.”  But God gave me much more than that.   God answered all the prayers I had asked in frustration why I had to continue to be surrounding by thieves and hookers and pimps and hustlers and drug dealers, and why was I not surrounded by Artists and Writers and Musicians and Actors and Directors and people more like myself.

I walked through the city gate of the town of my birth, the place where (according to my late sister) I had lived for only fifteen months.   This is the gate that I found:

heart of the arts

This is why I related earlier that all the prayers I prayed in total outrage and frustration were answered by the God Who Is Love.   If that Love can cut through hatred as thick and vicious as mine, I believe it can cut through all the hatred in the world.

Let’s hope.   There is always danger on this earth.   I have been in danger of many things since I’ve lived indoors — danger of a different nature than one finds when one lives outside.  But there is one place where there is no danger, and one home that is eternal.

“If you make my Word your home, you will indeed be my disciples.  You will learn the truth — and the truth will make you free.”   — Jesus Christ

THE END 

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Gratitude List 1334

I make these gratitude lists every morning when I wake up, and choose one to post every Monday.   This one’s from Friday morning.  

1. I did get another hour’s sleep from 9 to 10 yesterday morning, and that saw me through the day. Then I slept very solidly from 10 pm till 4 am this morning.

2. After hearing the words of Jeremiah’s prayer in the car, I did not enter into despair after the next two mistakes I made. Because I was not despairing, I went to bed without desire to escape into the ephemeral pleasure of the sin that has troubled me so. My sleep was as though guarded by angels, my couch undefiled and sweet.

3. This morning I succeeded, as hoped, in having the synthroid with a full glass of water and avoiding the computer until the doctor’s orders regarding my hypothryoid condition were fulfilled. Didn’t have any coffee during that period of time, but prayed and read a Psalm. So I can do it, despite morning disorientation, but I think it wise not to do the reading at the computer. Also, I often have a hard time making out the small print in the hard copy RSV, but this time I read it very easily under the bright kitchen light.

4. Ran the 4 mile course yesterday as per Thanksgiving ritual. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and perfect running weather at around 40F degrees or so, blue skies, big clouds, gentle winds — I love running and am somewhat amazed it’s still even possible at my age. My mind may be in shambles and disarray, but I can be grateful my body is still in one piece.

5. Finished the Inequity Series yesterday with Part Five. If you want to check it out, here it is.   I’m proud of my work, you know, and grateful that God has provided me with a place to accomplish it. That has rarely been the case before, ever in life. Grateful for my nice, quiet apartment.

6. Really nice Thanksgiving gathering at Norman’s place (though he’s in Virginia). It was great talking with people, and especially playing the Kawai piano and singing with Chelsea. Once I was warmed up in the “second set” I did a fiery version of “We Three Kings,” and it blew me away to hear how it was happening, even though my thoughts were riddled with paranoias about gang bangers and other murderers all the way through the event. Then we sang Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and it was plaintive, peaceful, powerful . . . I love the whole musical consciousness in this town, and Chelsea invited me over to her place tonight at 7 for a big jam.

7. Resigned one of my writing gigs due to a combination of PTSD and a revelation of practical wisdom. I know it’s the right choice, I worked through all the logic of it, and I committed myself on the run to do it, despite later conversations of confirmation. I felt a great peace in my spirit after submitting my resignation, and I remain thankful for the editor-in-chief of that paper, with whom I hope to work in the future.

8. Thankful for Jeremiah, for the fellowship and prayers last night, and for my Presbyterian church.

9. I need to express that the Revised Standard rocks. I turned to Psalm 55, and in the RSV every word was the exact cry of my heart. Turned to Psalm 55 in the Berean Study Bible – nothing. Checked the English Standard Version, thinking at least it would be authentic — still nothing. Confusion of the tongues, man! I’m posting Psalm 55 RSV on Sunday.  I know no one else can get inside my head, but reading every word and praying it confirmed God’s love for me at a very troubled time.

10. God is Love.

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The Homeless Inequities

Happy Thanksgiving — to those to whom it applies.   Here’s a little talk I created yesterday.  It’s about twenty-five minutes long, explaining how my recent “Inequity Series” came about, what it means, and what we probably should be doing about it.  I’d be happy if you gave it a listen.

The Homeless Inequities 

We who live indoors have a lot to be thankful for.  I say, let’s give a “hand up” to those who could use it.  God bless you — and God bless America.

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A little bit goes a long, long way.

 

Gratitude List 658

1. Moscow, Idaho: Heart of the Arts.  I came back to the city I left when I was fifteen months old — after sixty-two years — knowing nothing about it, and I found out quickly that Moscow is the Heart of the Arts.  I was born here!   No wonder I turned out the way I did.  

2. Thanksgiving celebration last night when the Latah Recovery Center rented out the One World Cafe.   R.J. insisted that all the background music be my original music, so I made a playlist that was in the background the whole time, and sounded nice coming out of all those One World speakers.  Brandon was the OWC worker behind the counter and I got to see everybody from LRC, also Jim the Janitor.  Really nice time, made me very grateful for #1 above.

3. My apartment.

4. Talked with Holly.

5. A sympathetic friend is going to help me with a new computer.

6. There was a big turkey left over from last night, and it’s in my freezer now.

7. I get to have Thanksgiving dinner with my pastor and his family out at the farm.

8. A proverb this morning reminded me to make sure I remember to go pick up that city job application.  (It was Proverbs 22:13) –

9. Therapy was good yesterday with Dave; and though we still didn’t really get to the root of the recently returning problem, we came up with some ways I could avert it.  I later realized some things on my own at home last night about what probably causes it, so all that was good.  I’ll keep working on it.

10. Sally said the November check was mailed yesterday.  I still don’t know which pieces were published, since I sent him the entire Part Four of my book plus everything on this link.  But I guess I’ll find out.   Recognition results in relaxation, because it means there’s less to be impatient about, in life.   God is Good.  

Moscow-Idaho

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Anything Helps – God Bless!

 

Gratitude List 623

I’m working on the third and final part of the dialectic that began with the post before last.  But in the meantime, there are two other posts I’d like to submit.   This one, my morning gratitude list, ought to resonate with fellow Introverts as well as (hopefully) Artists and Writers in general.   I hope you can appreciate it.  

1. Finally got the Internet turned on at my new apartment. All moved in now – feels good!

2. Actually got eight hours of solid sleep, between midnight and eight in the morning.

3. Sure grateful not to have to run into anybody on the way back from the bathroom in the middle of the night and risk running into some felon complaining that my fly is open while I’m hoping to get right back to sleep. I even have a peephole in the front door so if somebody knocks I’ll even know who it is that I’m not letting in before I don’t let them in. Let’s hear it for privacy with power.

4. Finally I live in a place where I don’t feel compelled to leave the house and go spend money in a coffee shop for the sake of my sanity. Let’s hear it for Folgers coffee singles.

5. Not to mention all the great running trails in the neck of the woods and proximity to the Arboretum and Paradise Path.

6. Wonderful conversations with Paul G. of the last two days, leading up to the formation of the Lincoln Summer Theatre Stockton California Facebook group. Already connecting with fine people and irreplaceable memories of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

7. The church music ministry is taking off so suddenly hugely, it’s exciting. Good that Erika & I can both sing now, and that we have an especially competent conductor.

8. My daughter is on her own path. She may find some roadblocks along the way, but I cannot fault her for wanting to carve out her own path, because I myself never knew happiness until I did.

9. Today’s my second day volunteering at the Latah Recovery Center, which I find I very much enjoy.

10. It is so perfectly quiet out here it’s almost too good to be true. This is the first time in years that I’ve lived in a situation where I haven’t had to fear being awakened at any time of the night by anybody for any reason. My capacity to organize my plans and projects and to make progress on them has increased seventy times seven fold. It is indescribably wonderful to feel that I am living in a place where bizarre demands are not constantly being made of me by my neighbors, and my energy is not being continually drained by having to try to figure out how to deal with them. My prayers have turned to prayers of thanksgiving, and my desire is to return this great goodness to the One who gave it to me. All Gratitude goes to God.

Please consider making an any amount donation to Eden in Babylon at this time.  The stuff that gets people interested in original musicals by unknown playwrights unfortunately does not grow on trees.   

The End

This post will be very brief.

As most of you know, I have been working on a musical play, off and on, for about five years.   This included a writer’s block of three years that was finally broken over Thanksgiving dinner last year.  I picked it up again on Thanksgiving night.

As of 11:15am this morning, I have finally put the words THE END at the bottom of my  document.   Eden in Babylon is complete — book, music, and lyrics — 132 pages in standard script format for a musical play.

Please fill out the contact form on this website if you would like a copy of the script, and we’ll see what we can do.  No doubt changes will be made, being as this is an initial draft.  I will say, however, that the satisfaction I am feeling at this moment far exceeds any previous form of satisfaction I have hitherto been known to feel.

Special thanks to Mary Donohoe and to all the members of the Palouse Writer’s Guild for their support — and to all of you, I offer a very special thank you, on this day.