I don’t deserve anything. No one owes me anything. I have nothing. Everything I have is on loan from God. My two hands are a pure and simple gift from him. I don’t even deserve them.

These thoughts echo in my head, and I wonder why I haven’t reached that point. I do deserve something. People do owe me. This is mine. My selfish attitude is what it is. What would the world be like if we all truly realized everything we have is not ours, but a gift from heaven–and treated it as such?

What am I to do? The world presses on, the clock never stops. Sometimes you wish it would go faster, sometimes you wish it would die. My dreams loom heavy on the horizon. My wishes, my desires burn brightly all around me. Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going. Being a student, I sometimes feel so cut off from reality. A life of study is easy. You’re not working your hands to put food on the table. But those days are coming–sooner than I expect. I wonder if I’ll be ready, if I’ll be able. Sometimes I want those days to come sooner, sometimes I wish they’d go away. Can I support myself? Can I support the ones I love? Can I pay the loans that hang above my head? Maybe being a student isn’t so easy. I always seem to be asking the questions, never really grasping the answers. Some day.

Questions flood my mind. Temptations. Propositions. Possibilities. What am I to do when the responsibilities come in and I want to do my own thing?

There you were. That name. That voice. That face. I haven’t seen you in so long. The last time we talked wasn’t exactly easy. But that was five months ago. They say time heals all wounds. The healing came sooner than I thought it would. Then again you were the one in pain, and I can’t speak for your healing. But aside from the awkwardness, it seemed to be okay. Things will be okay. They will be all right. Perhaps I was wrong. You wondered why I let you in on my newest trial, and perhaps this is the very reason. Friendship is proven in the fire of adversity.

The summer disappears so fast. Classes start again tomorrow. It’s interesting to note that I’ll only undergo this shift from summer to school once more in my life. Sometimes the days just seem to blend together. A chaotic blur of life. Then one day something dawns on you and you wonder how you could be day dreaming your way through life. Somehow you’ve managed to miss the point. It’s the story of my life. But there’s no use kicking myself now. So it’s time to return to school. Back to thinking, back to questioning, back to a challenge. It’s a wonder that we back away from these things come summer. Maybe it’s just from overload. At least I hope that’s the case. I’d hate for the rest of my life to be a permanent summer of backing down from engaging thought. There’s something gratifying about using the intelligence God had given us.

When things get back to normal, it’ll be okay. Back where things are comfortable and familiar, back in a place you can call home.

I hate to be the one to brake it to you, but you can’t go back. You can’t ever go back. Things can’t go back to normal. What you call comfortable, familiar, and at home is all in the past. It’s all behind you, and it will never be the same again. We live in the present, not the past, and the present is always changing, never familiar, constantly full of surprises.

It’s true that we can’t go back to the way things used to be, but we can make them better than they used to be. Why relish in past joys that have been gone so long, when new joys await around the next bend? You can find the familiar and the comfortable here and now in the present, if only you’d look. You have to seek it, but it is there. And the moment you realize it’s familiar and comfortable, it’s gone, and it’s in the past, it’s a golden memory, and now you’re experiencing something new.

The group of friends I used to hang out with in high school is anything but the same group now. Some have gone, some have changed, others have come into the group. If I cling to the old memories of that gang of friends, I’ll never be happy in the present. But if I embrace the change and stop waiting for things to get back to normal, then I’ll find new and greater memories unfolding before me.

Life is constantly changing. So hang on.

Every day is a new day. Open doors of possibility and potential. Opportunity for surprise, for joy, for sorrow.

Today is a new day. A new chapter. A new beginning. Sometimes all you can do is hold on tight and grit your teeth until this wild ride quits tossing you around. But maybe when it stops tossing you around is when things get comfortable, and who wants to be comfortable?

Sometimes life gets twisted on you and you don’t know which way is up. You don’t know which way to turn. You don’t know where to call home. But at least my feet are on the rock.

Where have you gone today? Out to play, again? Why are you so wrapped up in your own little world? Every time I turn around that’s where you are. I thought you had better things to do. I thought you wanted to do something, be somebody. I thought you dreamed of changing the world. But look what you’ve become. True, you’re not there yet, but you’re on the road that leads to destruction. You’re turning in to what you hate. You try so hard to erase the hypocritical lies that plague society like poisoned pixie dust–and there you go, falling for the same trap. You judge and sentence them with one quick glance, convicting all with your mighty gaze. Just when will you look in the mirror? Lost in your days of pleasure, just not too sure of what’s going on. You can’t fix anything until it’s too late, so don’t start just yet. I have no qualms with what you’re doing, it’s what you’re not doing that bothers me so. Read a chapter from your own book–or make it simple and read one from mine. Perhaps you shouldn’t be reserving your harsh words and harsh thoughts everyone else. You say you want to change the world, well you better start with yourself.

When did life get so complicated? I just wish I could curl up in your arms.

The drummer drums in the distance, pounding out a beat. A rhythm to move to, a rhythm to march to. And the armies converge. Forces unite. To the sound of that solitary drum they spring into swift action and unify together against the forces of the night. The battle is raging, but the drum beats on. You can feel it rising and you know the sun is looming just below the horizon.

Sometimes you loose sight. You can’t hear the drum and you don’t know where to turn. You forget what you were marching for, you fall out of line, and you can’t see the forest for the trees.

Sometimes I just don’t understand. I yearn to have it all figured out, but it just doesn’t work that way. Three hundred miles and the distance of eternity separate us–yet we are one and the same. I see myself in you. At least I think I do. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what change took place. Maybe I’m just trying to glorify a sad tale, dramatize everyday life and make this something of poetry, something more than it is. But there has to be more than what appears. Can anyone be so lost? So aimless? That is what I least want to become. Don’t you hear the drum? When did you lose your sense of rhythm? When did you fall out of line? No matter, you can pick up again. You can see again. You can be again. Why, oh why don’t you see that life is more than miles and power, money and security. Let it all go. It’s worthless. Can the student correct the master? Or is it too late? Did any instruction occur in the first place? The pain and hollowness I feel inside tears me up. It breaks me down. The tears well up in my eyes and I cry out for answers. But the night always echoes back in silence. Always the silence. You have to learn to accept things. But it doesn’t mean I can’t change things. Or at least try. Perhaps some day I can understand the hidden pain behind your glassy stare, the false security that drives you, and the stunted value you place in this world. Perhaps someday.

Until that day I can only pray. Pray that the drum would beat louder and echo in your ears. Pray that the scales would fall off and you would see. Pray that some day you would answer with your last dying breath and we would finally see eye to eye.

Do you hear the beat? It’s growing louder. It’s coming. Are you ready?