Footsteps

Deep breath,ready?...It wasn't like I was afraid to walk or was unable, but when you're a year old and your parents are breathing down your neck urging you to do so, just so they can capture your first steps and then tell the grandparents all about it...it just takes the fun out of it. My stubbornness had already kicked in at an early age and I would just sit there as they stared down at me, camera ready and I would deliberately disobey. I wonder if they regret when I finally started walking because I was constantly getting into trouble and they would always have to redirect me from walking into fire, into the street or over a cliff. You would think, I would have been a whole lot easier to raise if I never took those first steps, but with steps comes progress and progress leads to many lessons learned...Ok so it may not have gone exactly like that but my desire to walk with Jesus has always been a battle. And He was always there taking me by the hand to make sure I didn't get into too much danger.

I grew up going to church, was in the church plays (never got the cool role though...A DOG! what kind of luck gets you the role as a dog in the church play?! All I had to do was sit at the King's feet and I have some seriously good acting skills! conduct hmmm maybe) but I always heard about Jesus and all the stories relating to the bible. My prayers at night were genuine and I truly believed God was listening to just me. I accepted Christ when I was 11 and then things got more difficult following baptism. My brother graduated from HS just as I was entering Jr High and went off to college right away. My dad had been a father up to that point, but after that he just checked out. He was present still but not really there for me if you know what I mean.

Sometimes I struggle with the thoughts "would it have been easier if he actually just left" because then I wouldn't be deceived into believing some of the lies I did, but then I know that wouldn't have helped either. Jr High sucked, kids are mean there as everyone is searching for their identity and feel better about themselves by degrading others. So when I got into High school that is when things really took a turn for the worse. I wanted to be apart of the "cool crowd" and since we lived in a small town that usually meant, alcohol, drugs and girls. So I ran. Ran away from God and chose those things that only brought temporary gratification. Became rebellious, fought with my mom all the time especially about having to wake up to go to church. Stayed out late. drank. drank. drank. Entering my senior year I tore my ACL in two-a-days and I thought my life was over! Football was my first love and I had worked so hard for my last year. I had dreams of going to play somewhere and now all of this was shattered in a play gone bad. Some grownups would tell me "God has a plan for you even though it may not seem like it" (in hindsight I can see it) but that was the last thing I wanted to hear! My heart became hardened and I gave into the desire of my flesh. In my mind I was doing what everyone else was so I did not see any wrong in it...

Anyways that year was a blur and now Im off to college. Baylor University. A baptist school.
I met a guy who lived in my dorm, Adam, who became my best friend, and we were inseparatable sp?...Freshman year was so much fun for us because we would go to all these fraternity parties with tons of free beer. Midway through my freshman year my Dad in heaven took action. I interviewed for a counselling job at Camp Ozark, a christian sports camp, and somehow got the job...along with Adam. Crazy, scary i know. So that summer we packed up and drove to Arkansas. Literally on the way we looked at each other and said, we have to stop cussing. We cannot cuss in front of these kids. Oh my...God re-wired, redeemed and re-shaped me while I was there in such a tangible way and from that point on, I the prodigal son, had finally returned home. For good this time.