Once upon a time ago, when I was young; my father once said to me, “What right have you to tell me that I am wrong, I am older than you are.” I couldn’t find an answer, he spoke the truth; I knew no more about what we were talking about than what I thought I knew, and my friends knew no more than I, and of what they had understood about being grown in the city as we were growing. We didn’t know about love, trusting your heart; or what honor was, even faith escaped our senses. I eventually reached out, began my trek onto the concrete, steel and glass world of waiting to be; of what, I had many ideas of; what I became, was a shambles of my own deceit.
Those words haunted me for many years, even to this day. Yet four others stood out in my mind, twisting as the winds within the trees, love, trust, honor and faith. Sometimes I give up and I want to run, I can’t conceive any other way to believe I have a way to succeed, except through some kind of criminality; it’s an easier way to think, it’s not A.B.C + = ?, not knowing what to expect; not caring. I often feel the tears inside when I think of my father’s words, have you taken the time to think, of whom you will believe in or whom will you trust, when you are unsure, besides that first thought of where will you run to or what does it matter?
What trust has love, if you have no heart, and your heart is of deceit? What honors have you of others if you have none of yourself? Recovery is just that kind of slow road. Bewildered by those above you; by others who can’t care or you may seem to feel you are a child again, with questions, only you have the answers to, with trust; remember it is your faith, never to fear to see, so that you may go far in belief of your newness in wanting to be free.
