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I am.

My pedigree is shifty, related to captains on the Rhine River, landowners in Germany, a concert violinist in the Old World reputed to be a scoundrel with the ladies, and the lowly Buffalo City beat cop. The latter was a man that gained a purple heart by saving the life of a little girl from an unforgiving monolith of a chrome bumper that graced the behemoth autos of an era long gone. But I never knew that until I was much older. I knew him as papa, and he always had time for me. I loved him, and because of the time he gave me, I knew my grampa loved me too.

My past is unlovely, raised in a religious society, my head filled with church facts and lawschoking me with death; being obedient because  I was told to be.  The stars of the church easily sailed into fulfilling those roles of never forgetting their chapel veils, knowing their 12 stations, their 10 points and their sacraments. The appearance of holiness and the cloaking of piety, the added titles of doctorates and degrees, the membership of hollow church society leaves a hole that will not be filled by more of the same. To keep applying the plaster on the wall to cover the yawn of emptiness is futile, because you will face death and truth. The lemming like rush to go farther and garner more to add to my human frailty leaves me disgusted, as we touché with longer words and feed the ego of pride that swells to encompass it. Yes, I am unlovely.

My human nature is faulty, a dreamer from birth pounded by people of haughty prestige laughing at my lowly state. I will probably never master another language, nor have my name known as the corporate lawyer that I was never designed to be anyway.

My choices have been self serving and have entertained evil in my heart.  My mouth is too quick to speak, and my ears have to sometimes back up to hear what was spoken, if I can recapture the moment. I am totally imperfect and am amazed that I am not who I think I am just about the time when I think I have a handle on it!

My life was reduced to turning my head from the party scene and bar crowds that were my friends as long as the beer flowed and the door was open. There was always a reason to gather, and not necessarily bad in their own right.  I found their friendships sincere but filled with more of the same, for what answer did they have for all of the hypocrisy of life? The lofty titles of my professional friends had the right look made me sick, but I found my friends of the night had the same disease, just in their fashion. Then I learned of the group where the two actually blended, and it was so disgusting and empty that there seemed to be no relief for the insanity. Walking from the east of my upbringing to the west of the wildest adventures I could claim short of death did not patch the plaster of the ever widening hole in my heart. But if you lived fast enough and did enough, you could keep ahead of thinking about it....until you stopped or rested. The stirring would not stop.

My answer came to me only in those moments that I was forced into being alone, when my own circumstances backed me into a trap. The trap to me was being alone, without the party atmosphere I was so adept at conjuring up. The trap was driving a truck, alone for hours, down the highway. I needed the money, I used the latest skill I picked up, but I was trapped. Alone. Away from the familiar, but not afraid, for I welcomed the next adventure. My foolish heart led me ever away, to never question my invincibility. I was alone for hours. The absolute silent times in a tiny cab of a tractor trailer with just the hum of the huge tires was the cage that something unexpected happen.

My song came from nowhere, as the melody of my heart began to move through my lips, calling out to a God who was waiting for me all that time. What a foolish daughter I had been, for here the Master of my free will, my life, had his prey captured, and in the endless stretch with no radio except for the occasional chatter on the cb. My King used my bondage and lonely wasteland condition to open my heart to a new song. I sensed something, someone, who was very real and was with me.

My hindsight is rich now, because I can look over my shoulder, and thank Him for that time when His faithfulness waited for the moment I could hear.

Oh, yes, my dearly beloved friend, I do know what I believe, because I know WHO I believe. The rest is History.