Well, well, well...

I don't want to talk about it. Check back tomorrow.

90% of the time, I can keep my feet on the pavement, steady focused on life, liberty and property here in Indiana, and afford only fleeting glances back at what I've left behind. The other 10% of the time, I find myself with nothing but my own blood, running far too cool from a weakened heart, to give me warmth.

I want to share another secret with you. It's another secret from my childhood. You know I'm adopted, and I've carried that with me for most of my life as a source of burden and confusion. This secret I carry with me always as a source of courage and faith; an everlasting reminder of the ease of my own perseverance; a temporal manifestation of the nature and body of my Father.

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish,
sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints,
so I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied,
“The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, it was then that I carried you.”

This secret is entitled 'Footprints in the Sand'. My parents had a plaque with this engraved on it in our house, and although nobody ever knew I did it, I hid in the basement and read it to myself thousands of times growing up. It was always very uncharacteristic of me to need someone to hold my hand, you see, but to read that there was a man who would not just walk beside me in times of trial and pain, but pick me up and bear my load with His filled my heart with joy; this was what I came to know as love, and it was perfect love. Whether I believed the man was real or not, I vowed never to love any of my fellow creatures on this Earth with any less intensity than I'd found on that plaque.

I don't know if I expected the man to carry me through the darkness unscathed, or if I never expected him to be there at all when I set off to grow into myself, start college, fall in love, become a man.... I could feel myself growing, tearing and healing again and again, stronger with each generation of muscle, spirit, and mind; but all the way, I felt blind and alone. I had long ago closed my eyes, weary with anticipation of a helping hand that I couldn't see anywhere on the horizon.

Tonight, I opened my eyes for a moment. I took in my surroundings, and then, puzzled, I turned to face the path I've taken to get here. It was rugged, treacherous, and laced with obstacles big and small.... that much I expected. It took a few minutes to take it all in, and then I realized that I had to look back to see it. My eyes had been closed for so long, and yet here I was, alive and well, smarter and stronger than ever before. Then I'm certain I could feel the Lord put me gently back on my feet and place His hand on my shoulder, and we walked together again.

To my fellow skeptics: I don't exercise blind faith, and I'm not trying to imply that the difficult nature of my own life is (of itself) evidence of the existence of a higher power in the universe. All I'm saying, and all I feel I need to say tonight, is this: Open your eyes. Open your heart and mind. I don't think God is outside waiting to get in like you'll hear from most Christians. I truly believe he's inside waiting to get out.