Journeys of a Wandering Wordsmith
Journey with me on my blog!
That Time I Stood Up to a Homophobic, Transphobic Bully – Also, a Pastor
A storyteller I follow refers to his growth in the numerical unit of past iterations of himself. "That was eight Robs ago," he'd say of himself, back when he used to believe one thing or behave a totally different way. I've started viewing my own growth in this vein, thinking about all the Toms that have existed in this singular Tom, particularly with regard to this active-passive dynamic. My passivity has run especially true in matters of relational conflict. Given the option to fight a conflict or flight a conflict (please excuse my incorrect usage of a noun as a verb in the name of symmetry), I will flight nine times out of ten. Ah, but then there's always that one instance...
Everybody Needs an Uncle Pat
I became an uncle six years ago, and Uncle Pat has always been my template for uncling. Because everyone needs an Uncle Pat. Someone to remember them on their birthdays, buy them Slurpees, ask about their lives, and drive them around on special journeys. If my nieces or future nephews ever have anything positive to say about their Uncle Tom, it will be because Uncle Pat showed me how to uncle well.
The Joys and Challenges of Traveling Solo Across Alaska
Here's a multi-faceted realization I've found in recent years: I absolutely love to travel solo — and most people absolutely do not. Traveling solo doesn't daunt me; indeed, it ignites something primal and wondrous in me. Comparing myself to how most other people travel, though, is another mountain: Why are they not like me? Why am I not at all like them?
Alaska, At Last
Back in 2020, in that early sliver of what was sure to be a promising year, I started making preliminary plans to visit Alaska. Known widely as "The Last Frontier" and my own final frontier, too. I’d traveled to 49 states since touching down in Hawaii a couple years prior, and it was time, at last, to conquer them all. Well. We all know why that trip didn’t happen. And it’s been plaguing me ever since. Three and a half years of longing for Alaska. Until now. I refuse to long any longer.
What About Bob's Son
I don't know anybody in Ukraine myself. But I do know someone – a few someones – you can be praying for stateside. I've been reminded of Bob from my Running To adventure. Remember Bob? Sure you do. He's the single dad from Maine, a university professor I found on Couchsurfing who asked if I was sure I'd had enough soup for dinner. Oh Bob. So folksy with that thick Maine accent. Bob never married but always wanted to be a dad. So, he adopted two sons: the older from Russia and the younger...from Ukraine.
5 Years With a Blue Ridge Home
Come whimsy or mayhem, for five years running the road keeps leading me back here to the Blue Ridge. However many nights I've actually slept in a bedroom here, it is indeed starting to feel something like home. I stared at the hills the other day and prayed, "God, please don't let it ever grow old."
Debt-Free
Before I knew it, YOB was no longer a hobby. It could no longer be treated that way – that is, if I wanted it to grow further. And I did. I knew I could pay off my Juke and be debt-free if I simply kept working at the boarding school through 2017 and maybe a little into 2018. Paying off a 4-year loan in a little over a year was absolutely doable. But that inner beckoning grew louder and stronger.
Pen Strokes and Chisels to the Soul
I've grown more in the last two years than the previous ten. More than ever, I feel God's hand guiding mine like pen strokes while chiseling my soul. A mystical also brutal process.
Do Not Calm This Storm
Jesus won't calm the storm with a single word. His way is a way of work. Of picking up crosses daily. Of lugging said crosses up mountains. Of taking the narrower way of all the broader ways available to my wanderlust.
City of Macaroons and Broken Dreams
I entered Charlotte with gargantuan hopes. Hopes that wherever I landed after #RunningTo would be the city I'd call home the rest of my life. A city of dreams fulfilled that simultaneously kept adding new ones. I stare at this Queen City skyline with kind of a hopeless sigh. I failed this place.
