Journeys of a Wandering Wordsmith
Journey with me on my blog!
God I Hate People
For all the headaches other humans have caused me, Lord knows I've caused the same (and worse) in others. But we're different. We come from different families and cultures. We're all motivated differently. We want and need different things to sustain us, day by day. Okay. I get it now. Now, how can we unite? Around Whom can we follow a common path?
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.
Sexy Changing in the Staying
Traveling changes a man, certainly. It's what draws me to the road and the skies, again and again. The blaze of colors to my exterior and interior alike. But staying put changes a man, too, I'm better realizing. It's not as sexy. Not as readily apparent sometimes.
A Safe Place to Vomit My Heart
I returned to counseling last week for the first time in six months. Counseling, therapy — I never know what to call it. How about a safe place to vomit my heart? Above all, I've needed two things sorely: Scripture and Jesus. Even after just one session back, I feel enriched: a session bookended with prayer as I shared the overview of my story. I started choking up after just twenty minutes.
God's Love is Still Reckless
When "Reckless Love" first came out in 2017, I, like many others in Christian worshipdom, fell out of my seat. For the last year and a half, though, as many songs just do, it faded. Back at church, the electric guitar strings belted a familiar intro. One I'd not heard in a church setting for many, many months. "Reckless Love" returned to my life. And I couldn't skip it this time.
I Like Coming Home?
I recently climbed the stairwell to my new apartment with a bag full of groceries and thought this distinct thought: I like coming home. It startled me, and I immediately recognized its significance. Because I couldn't remember the last time I'd thought this thought. Alas — it's been years since I truly enjoyed coming home.
The Whispers I Followed Home
After 147 days, I followed the whispers back to Asheville, and I'm thrilled not to be wandering any longer. I found an apartment in town, and a phenomenal one at that. I hesitate with clichés -- especially Christian clichés -- but y'all: this was a God-thing. I'm living in a phenomenal apartment in a phenomenal neighborhood with a phenomenal landlord, and I follow a phenomenal God of provision.
Good Morning. How Could I Not?
But through it all. Every single day. I have much to be grateful for. Blessings in abundance despite the clouds and gray, here and still coming.
Plot Twisting
My life has featured a lot of plot twists I never saw coming. Especially these last two years. It's been brutal. It's also been necessary for the furthering of my story, I now realize. A story that wasn't going anywhere. Stuck in a sleepy, apathetic comfort.
The Part Where I Get to Have Faith
These last couple years, I've fielded more doubts than ever before, not due to any personal tragedy or spiritual apathy, but largely due to public figures and friends alike walking away from Jesus. This same Jesus I follow.
99% of Toms
I wish to be different than 99% of humanity, yes, but lately I've pondered a new concept: what about being different than 99% of Toms? If 99 versions of me would choose to do one thing, do I simply follow along, or do I dare counter with the 1%?
Like a Butterfly in an Aquarium
It sounds lovely to be the butterfly, to have the spotted wings and ventures. But oh the process. The waiting and waiting, the changes upon changes one must first endure. There is no zapping to the butterfly stage. I imagine most of us want to be the butterfly but rarely the change required. And not just a singular change but multiple drastic, awkward, even painful changes.
Stranger in a Familiar Land
The road has led me back to the Blue Ridge. Back in these hills rolling like moonlit shadows, just like I remember, just like always. I've been gone from this place for 82 days. Traveling as far away as Colorado and Maine and losing a grandfather along the way. And the way is still unfolding before me.
Itch
I'm itching for home. God, I'm itching for regularity again. I'm itching for therapy and CrossFit and training for a marathon and the same coffee shops and writing my third book and building local friendships and taking Your Other Brothers to bold, new frontiers. I'm itching for this road trip to end.
Leave Me Alone
I'm grieving more than just the loss of my grandfather — a hero, a giant, an embodiment of God's love. I'm grieving all relational brokenness. I'm grieving human death for the first time, yes, but I'm also grieving everything else that separates humanity. Divorce, war, disagreement, misunderstanding, vitriol. Friends who aren't friends anymore.
A World Without Ahh
"I hope you have a lot of friends one day, Tom." My grandfather spoke these words to me when I was 15. We were in the car as I joined him on his usual run of errands: the bank, pharmacy, post office. It's strange referring to him as "my grandfather" — he was always just "Ahh" to me. Even stranger now to think of him in the past tense. My grandfather, Ahh, died this week.
I'm Tired.
I just attended the second Revoice conference in St. Louis. Several of my fellow authors from Your Other Brothers also attended, and we'll have a full recap/conversation coming to our site next week. But for now, I wanted to shed some more personal thoughts on the conference and my life-on-the-road at large. The main one being: I'm tired.
God See Me
I want more, I want all of it, and yet I also want to rest in the futility of this earthly conquest. I want to wander where I will and when I can, but also to find contentment in the conquest of a single place. I've a feeling where that single place will soon emerge, at least for the foreseeable future. But for now. I will wander. I will be purposeful.
Joy Terrifies Me
It's so clear now — something I've always known to be true about me and yet see anew. I'm terrified of joy. Joy just terrifies me. For how fleeting it is.
When Jesus Slides Into the Shadows
Before you even know it, Jesus slid into the shadows long ago. You thought he was still there. Like he's always been. Like he always will be...right? But if we don't intentionally keep Jesus atop our bookshelf...I think the Father is willing to let us turn other pages. To let us wander without for a bit.