My Heart: As a lonely hunter…
July 30, 2006

Today has been a day of many things for me. I woke up knowing that I only had about 2 ½ days left and could hardly stand the thought of being back in Knoxvegas with the people that love me, and are welcoming me back with open arms. My thoughts have also been plagued with the thought of not doing enough since I have been here in NOLA, and leaving its people and returning to my quote/unquote normal life. (What is that by the way)?
My heart ached today with many ideas and dreams pulling at it. I watched some movies today that got my mind working, thinking about my past, the life that I currently call my own, and the future that I have tried really hard to put into God’s Hands. My heart today felt as though it was a lonely hunter. It ached to be known, to help more than it has, for a place it currently calls home, and for a place that it has only seen a glimpse of and yearns to see more of.
What exactly does being a lonely hunter mean? I know that when I picture a hunter, I see someone sitting in a desolate place, knowing that something that the hunter wants will eventually cross its path, waiting to see what it wants, aiming and firing. Gracefully capturing what it’s been seeking and waiting for, for months. Years even. I suppose that you could call my heart a hunter, but what it’s seeking I’m not quite sure of yet.
Today my heart was looking for something to be enough. Most of you know what I mean when I say enough… Something to make me feel worth the work that I do, worth the time that I spend loving people, and worth the life that I live.
I felt alone today in the world that I live in. And as the saying goes, when you feel like the world has turned its back on you, take a second look, most likely you have turned your back on the world… and today, I did. It was more comfortable that way. Safer that way. Not that I felt better with my back turned, but I suppose that it was easier that way.
I’m not sure what I’m hunting for. A feeling? A person? A place? I really have no idea. I might guess that when I find it, that I will still question it’s reality in my life, and if it fits what I think I’m looking for. Which, again, I’m still not sure of.
What I do know for sure is that I keep hunting. I keep setting myself in places that have the ability to cultivate great captures, great trophies, if you will. It’s at times hard to hunt, a bit discouraging and sometimes leaves an empty, worthless feeling. Been there done that, am here doing that. But there are a few things that I believe that aid my heart and its lonely ache… the idea that I know God has a plan for the life that I feel hasn’t done enough, for the lives that I will encounter on my hunt towards whatever it is I’m seeking, and for my heart: as a lonely hunter.
So I’ll sit and wait. Patiently. Quietly. Waiting to see the prize that I have waited months, even years to see. I will aim and fire. And trust that in God’s time, I will see, have and hunt for what I want, need and eventually will call my own. And even then, my heart will long for more. More of what God has, more of what it doesn’t know and the dull pain that will exist until I am Home, and see-as a hunter, what my lonely heart has ached for all along.

How to write the final chapter of a book???
July 25, 2006

In most of the recent books that I have read the final chapter of the book tends to be kind of like a wrap-up. It tends to close the stories of most of the main characters that have been introduced in the adventures and tales that have been told on the pages prior. Bo usually realizes that he has loved Isabella for the entire duration of the book, and decides to confess his love for her, and kiss her with passion that is relentless and undying. Chase realizes that it isn’t the outlaws that have been trying to take all of his money and his cattle, that it’s one of his own, one that he raised as his own son. As the tale is told, the truth comes out in the wash.
I have been trying to figure out how to write about my final days here in NOLA. I have experienced so many different things along my adventure here that trying to put into one chapter seems to be a bit ideal. To be able to wrap-up everything that I have learned, understood and taken as a part of me in one chapter would be one lengthy chapter that would continue to be written over the course of the next 5 or so months.
I have been faced with some difficult situations here in New Orleans. Some sights that I never dreamed possible on American soil, some people that breezed in and out of my life changing most pieces of who I am, dishonesty staring me right in the face-literally, difficult people to work along side each day, and people just wanting to do something-anything to help the current situation that is just an average day in New Orleans.
There have been times when I wanted to write down every single word that has come out of his mouth, and times that the sound of her voice any more through out the day might actually make my skin crawl. There have been times of utter content, knowledge of being right where I’m suppose to be right at this time, and numerous days of wondering why I have been here all summer, and if I have actually helped do anything of great value. Times of rolling tears because of an ache in my heart that longs to be known by someone, and the same rolling tears of someone flipping through the pages of my mind’s eye and reading it with such ease. Times of cheers-ing with people about the days to come, the lives to change and the ability to let the comfort of ours(lives) be different in a way immediately unseen, but abruptly felt. There have been times of providing the kind of friendship that I give to a select few, but in an intense situation such as the destruction and resurrection of New Orleans has pulled those parts out of me, forcing me to be most of who I am every single day. It can be exhausting. And has been.
When I spoke with Mandy I was telling her that I think that I will continue to learn from this experience throughout the next few months and hopefully years of my life, and she agreed. I’m not sure that it’s humanly possible to take something of this magnitude and learn everything possible from it in approximately 8 weeks. And I’m not sure that I would want to do that anyways. I’m a firm believer that in order for change to be real (and that’s what I’m looking for here, is to be a better person after an experience such as this), it doesn’t happen over night- or in 8 weeks in my case, sounds cliché right? But seriously. Because in order for things to change, it must occur at the core, or at the belief. And after 26 years of the knowledge that I have, and as stubborn as I am, change is liable to take some time. But surprisingly enough, much change has already occurred, and I’m sure that there are changes, as I said previously, that are immediately unseen.
So as I try to write the final chapter of my New Orleans journey, I’m realizing that it won’t be a chapter at all. What I’m hoping for is a lifetime journey. I’m hoping that I will be able to look back on this experience over my entire life with growth and learning. My goal is to come down here at least once a year for about the next 10 and watch the progress of an old city become new again. Maybe that’s a selfish goal for me too.

Scrabble
July 7, 2006

I’m not exactly what I have sat down to write today. There are many things that I could say are troubling my mind. And I’m actually not sure that troubling is the word that I should use to describe those things. Difficult thoughts, thoughts of reality, thoughts of life ideas to live out, thoughts of being in the right place in my life and being comfortable in the skin that is there too, thoughts of a future, of my plans, of God’s plans for me. See, lots circling around in here. None of it overwhelming, some of it satisfying and most of it relevant and true to who I am.
I seem to experience a wave of emotions each day that I’m here. I go from feeling really great about what I’m doing down here, and being thankful to be given the chance to be part of it all, to the other extreme of wondering what the hell I’m doing, how it’s helping and how much longer I have to endure all of this that I currently call home.
When I’m working with the volunteers gutting a house or we are all sitting at dinner, I think that I’m here for the right reasons. When I meet homeowners who bring us lunch (that happened to day by the way) I’m thankful for the ability to come down here and meet them, hear their stories and start the process of helping them rebuild their lives.
When shit hits the fan at the house, and people don’t get along and money is missing and trust that once was is broken, that’s when I’m angry to be here. That all makes sense I suppose. I mean, I would say that my reactions and feelings are pretty natural.
Now I’m not sure of the exact rules of the game Scrabble, although I have played a few times in my past. It seems to be a game that is educational, kind of pushes people a bit to use their brains, to be creative and work magic on a board scoring points or perhaps a double word score. I kind of feel like I have been playing Scrabble today. Only instead of using letters trying to create words, I’m using thoughts to create plans. Does that make sense? I mean all of my thoughts are in my head, hence the bag with the letters. I get to reach in at my leisure-and by leisure I suppose that means I get to pick which thoughts and ideas to focus on- and pull out any thoughts, line them up in front of me, look at my life and decide how my life becomes better, how I become stronger and the proactive way to live a life that only God and myself have created. Kinda feels like Scrabble.
I have been fortunate in the past and have had what some would call a double word score in my own life, and I have had what some would make an attempt to look up in a dictionary and find nothing of the sort. You’ll have that. A few things that make complete sense, and others that await my creativity and then fizzle when the plans lay out in front of me.
I feel very fortunate that I have the ability to make sense of the bag of letters, with each handful that I pull out. I know that there are times that I struggle for days with a handful of letter that might make complete sense to someone else. And that’s okay with me. It’s more my style to make words that are complicated. Words that make a difference, words that are a bit dangerous, adventurous and at most times fulfilling. I’m not saying that I always win when I’m playing Scrabble, but most times I walk away from the table with what has been laid before me feeling like something was accomplished. To me that’s more important than winning the game.