Exit Stage Left: A Brief Intermission

Some days are just hard. Like ridiculously hard. Each day basically starts off two ways for me. I either wake up to make breakfast for my daughters or I wake up to pursue making a better life for them. Most of the time it’s both, but it’s my life at the moment and I’m going to make the best of this situation for myself but more importantly my girls.

            Life has certainly taken a turn that I didn’t expect and I am left here thinking “What now?” “Where do I go from this? “ “Who am I?” “Where is God in all of this?”: questions that once upon a time I thought I answered.  I never thought I would be here in this situation, a….divorce.

The ugly truth is regardless of fault or blame or hurt...divorce happens. Sometimes people take so much from you that the best you can do is leave. Sometimes it's a betrayal. Sometimes it's a mutual understanding that two people who once made each other happy simply do not anymore. Regardless of why it happens, a divorce doesn't get anything back for you. The payment was made before the divorce. The pain and suffering and tears and anger and fear were all payment. And when one or both people decide the cost of the marriage is too high to keep paying, it's capped and signed for. This is what divorce does. It ends the payment. It doesn't start it. Divorce separates you from your spouse. It doesn't paint one person a bad guy and the other an angel. It doesn't draw a line in the sand and demand everyone to pick a side or pay a fine. That's judgment better left to the Lord. What happens too often, though, is that people hear divorce and immediately judge those involved. In most cases you could probably take every wrong done during the marriage and weigh it. Most likely it would probably fall heavier on one side. But those failings and wrongs were done before the divorce. A married couple could have a lot to be judged by but a divorced couple just wants the payment to end. Do they get off Scott free? No. A divorce is bloody. Even on the best of terms there's carnage. If children are involved, it's even more heart wrenching. Most people don't walk down the aisle intending to fail. It's not a preconceived plot to ruin lives. But it does happen. And those left in the ashes regardless of side or allocated parenting time or consolidated stuff, are left broken and feeling the loss. Because there is a huge loss and im not talking about the splitting of assets. I'm talking Dreams. Expectations. Families. Friends. Time with your own children. Divorce is not freedom from loss. If divorce is an end to the payment of marriage. Loss is the consequence. And one everyone has to give to. The ones that make it through are never left quite the same. I do believe God has a bigger plan than divorce though.

            The worst part about the divorce for me is my daughters. The fact that I’m not there 100% of the time anymore or that their mother isn’t there, the fact that I have to explain to them that they now have two homes, two birthdays, two of everything. The moment when they want their mother but it’s just me trying my best to console them and meet their need that they feel only their mom can meet at that moment. I think, does that happen while they are gone? Do they call out for me and I’m not there? The thought is gut wrenching and heart breaking. I find myself snapping awake in the middle of the night because I think I hear one of them up. Nope, I just forgot that they are with their mother but yet I can’t help myself and I get up and go look at their empty beds. It’s hard, ridiculously hard.

            Divorce is tragic, there are no magic solutions or pretty words that I can spin on this to make it ok. It’s not ok. My family is not ok. I could quote scripture or say something that would take the sting away from the awfulness of this blog but I wont. It’s not meant to be fluff and it’s not meant to portray anything other than what it is. Divorce is awful, hearts have been hurt and are in need of healing, a family has been broken. I’ve questioned myself writing this over and over again but I feel like I need to put it out there so my family and friends will know.

            I feel like I need to apologize to people I ministered over the years and to family and friends. I am sorry, this is not what I wanted..this is not what I had in mind when setting an example for those around us. I don’t need forgiveness for this from people to move forward in life. Only God and myself can offer that. What I do ask for is that you all continue to pray for us in this transition. Pray for me. Pray for Katie. Pray for the girls. That in the mist of this that God is found in the hurt of all of this.

             

Musings From Childhood "Updated"

It's been eight years since the last time I viewed this writing of mine, a lot has happened in my life since then, I am no longer in ministry, I am a father to two beautiful girls, and I still desire to change peoples lives for the Kingdom. 

Joy,heartache, and heartbreak have entered and exited my life since the day a young 24 year old Joe Bruce dared to whisper a dream to the world in the form of writing.  I've read it over and over again, being reminded about whispered dreams that have thrived, died, and changed over time. God is still working in me, chipping away and molding me to be who he created and I am finally accepting it. I hope this finds you well and reminds you of the dreams and desires that God has whispered to your heart.

The boy stood in the bright green forest breathing in the smells of spring and early summer. Blonde hair blowing, from the wind that rushes through the trees. At first glance one would think his hair was white but upon further inspection a person could see that the hair was bleached from being outside all day and body kissed by the sun. Suddenly the boy moves in a full out sprint darting through the trees nimbly and swiftly. A bark echoes behind him as his dog Clyde rushes to catch up. Clyde quickly passes the boy as they both approach the creek in a full run. The boy slows down for he knows that danger lurks in the brush around the creek or in the grass near the water's edge. His eyes do a quick scan for the deadly cottonmouth snake that would probably kill him if he was bitten for he was at least two miles away from help. The sound of birds drift around him as he walks down to the bank for a quick sip of the cold water that the creek produces. Shirtless and barefoot he bends down on hands and knees and drinks deeply. He's been here countless times, a refuge from the taunting of his older brother and drunk rages of his mother. This is a place of solace that has almost a magical quality to it. Almost as if sprites and magical creatures would gather here for some feast in moonlight at night, dancing and making music. The boy wades slowly into the ice cold water enjoying the feeling of the current pulling on his legs. Dark hazel eyes rest on the spot where he is heading, the place that quickens his heart, the place that beckons to him. As he leaves the water he finds himself heading toward a circle of trees that holds a secret that only he knows about. A place of magic and reprieve, for in this circle lies a soft grassy spot that will provide him rest for awhile and let his imagination take over. The boy lays down in the grass and the dog Clyde comes into the circle and greets him with a kiss on the boy's feet and lays down. His imagination takes over and he starts to dream. Battles of old rages in the mind of the young boy, he sees himself wielding a sword to defend his kingdom and Lady, an adventure as old as time itself. The feeling of being free is what settles on his heart as he drifts off to sleep to the sound of nature playing it's chorus around him.

This was a place I found myself and my heart time and time again. Without knowing it, this was the place that God met me in a very real way. I don't know if any of you had a similar place growing up? Maybe it was an attic full of antiques or a barn full of smells and memories  or simply just a place of safety that you where called to while growing up. Here in these places we would whisper the secrets of our hearts of what we desired and shared our hurts if need to be. In my place I would whisper to whoever was listening about my hurts and my longings for adventures abroad, to be a lover, a fighter, a good man. These whispers I have found as I have grown older is continually silenced by people who have stopped hearing their hearts ages ago. Have you met these people? Nay sayers in your life, putting your hopes and desires down, telling you that who you are is not good or good enough. I myself have put a silence to whispers in other peoples hearts through the years and for this I am truly sorry. Maybe you have too in your own way? The people you care about most come to you, the safety place they are called to, and after they whisper their heart to you. What do we do? We silence it. Maybe through a harsh reply or through indifference but the other person leaves knowing in some way that their hearts desire is bad and even worst it is bad to share it as well. We all have done it,but why do we do it? I have found fear motivates me the most. The fear of my own heart whispers and feeling like I'm not pursuing them and therefor resentment starts to build in my heart. What motivates you to silence others? 

I am reminded of a time in the Bible, when some children where called to come to Jesus to whisper their hearts to Him. But what happens? The disciples intervene to kill the hearts of the little ones. They respond in rational terms "Surely they don't understand the words of Jesus." This is what I love about Jesus right here. He was sitting there and sees this happening and what does he do? He intervenes in a very real way. "What are you doing?" He asked. Anger and frustration flashing across His eyes as he sees his disciples hindering the children and what does he do? He RESCUES and calls them to him. The disciples let the children come and Jesus speaks a simple truth. "Nobody enters the kingdom of heaven unless he or she has faith like a child." This tells us exactly what he wants from us. Because God simply desires to come and whisper His heart to us and in turn we whisper back our desires and hurts to Him. I ask you friends, do you dare to whisper again? Do you dare to listen to God's whisper? If we do, be willing to be changed by our God. Because He is calling us to that secret place, that place where we whisper our hearts to Him. Where intimacy is built between a Father and His children. Your secret place may have changed through the years but it's still there somewhere in our lives, if you have lost it, find it. He is calling to each and everyone of us to Him and in turn we can dare respond with open hearts . Let's dare to whisper for out of whispering we will become alive once more and learn who we are.

Dark Memories, Dark Nights

“It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.” 
― Chuck Palahniuk

The ghosts of my past show up more often than not, sometimes I give them a silent nod as they pass by, sometimes though, these ghost play out in my everyday interactions. I’ve been going to counseling to help deal with this, to get a hold on these experiences  to understand my past and present so they may not consume me or even worse…consume the ones that I care about.

Now this may be TMI for some, so if you don’t want TMI stop now. I have no idea why this memory keeps playing out in my mind in the past weeks other than in counseling we talked about my past recently…

It was late spring and I was 18 years old, I worked at this little country gas station called Kuntry Korner (yes that’s how its spelled) in Calhoun, Louisiana. After school that day I went to work as usual. Now, I looked forward to coming to work here because I worked with friends and of course I was a single male and girls came in all the time but I digress at the memory at hand.

            That night was like any other night working there.  My best friend Chris was hanging out with me at the store just shooting the breeze. He is a ginger that worked at a roofing company at the time and when he got off work he typically came into the store and hung out till I got off.

            The phone rang at the store and I picked it up “Thanks for calling Kuntry Korner, this is Joe. How can I help you?” Silence on the phone, was that a sob I just heard?
“Joe….it’s John. Hey can you come home? Mom is super drunk and flying off the handle.” Deep sigh, this again.
“Hey, I’m at work. How about you go to your room and stay out of her way and keep the phone on you just in case.”
 “Ok…” he responded. I could hear her yelling coming from the background a jumble of accusations and curse words. The phone goes silent.
 I look at Chris “My mom is apparently trashed tonight.”
 Chris responded, “When isn’t she?”
I laughed that’s a good point. Looking back over 10 years later I didn’t realize that this wasn’t the norm for everyone.

            Maybe 20 minutes passed and the phone rings again “This is….” I answered.
 I’m interrupted by John screaming, “Joe! Come home now! She is going to hurt me!”  I hear her screaming on the other side “Who the fuck did you call?! Get off the fucking phone NOW!” I hear this loud crash and my bother screaming…then silence.  My entire body broke into sweat…don’t panic…don’t panic… that wasn’t a gun shot…what was that sound?

            I look at Chris, “We need to get home.” I tell my coworker that there is a family emergency and disappear into the night. I remember hitting close to 100 mph in my Chevy S-10 on my way home... I pull into my driveway and barrel down it in a rush. Coming to a sliding stop I see that the front door to my home was wide open…I can not see anyone moving around inside. Leaving the headlights on… Chis and I get out of my truck and walk to the porch. Blood and shattered glass greets me…puddles of blood…foot prints of blood…blood splatter everywhere…I hear shuffling and my mom comes walking out of the hallway…I quickly see that she isn’t carrying a weapon and that she is bleeding from her feet. I call out to John and was greeted with silence. My mom responds “That little shit took off outside.” I see now that there is a blood trail leading out of the house where he left on foot. I look at Chris and tell him to go find John; he is walking toward Choudrant because we didn’t pass him on our mad dash home. He heads out and speeds off toward where think John is walking.  I look at my mother…anger and disgust boil inside me; I head to the bathroom and grab bandages and tape. I come back and tell her to sit. Which she does, she smells of piss and alcohol, when she gets drunk she tends to piss herself. I pick her feet up and slowly take out the glass, washing them, disinfecting them, and then bandaging her feet up. All the while she glares at me with contempt from her drunken stupor.

            Chris pulls up in my truck and I run out and see that John has a 9-inch gash in his arm, he proceeds to tell me that she threw a glass bowl against him in her drunken rage. I ended up taking him to the hospital for stitches. I tried my best at lying to the nurses, telling them that he fell down the stairs, isn’t that the go to excuse with abuse? Oh…I just fell, well they didn’t buy it and the cops were called. We left and went back home to meet with the cops but nothing happened in the long run, the cops said that we could either leave or have her arrested but then we would have had to post her bail which would cost us money that we didn’t have as a family. It was my call. So we left our house at 3 am in the morning, got up and went to school like everything was normal…because frankly that was normal for us.

This is one of the moments that have shaped me into the man I am today. The effects still playing out in my life and my brother’s life as time unfolds. The effects are both positive and negative...being able to identify these demons of alcoholism that lurk beneath wanting to drink during times of stress even though Ive never been drunk. The other more damaging effect has been that it made me more susceptible to abuse toward me and not recognizing it for what it is and not having healthy boundaries with people but that’s a story for another time.

In His Grace,

Thanks for reading

Joe