Faith, Hope and Love

Life is hard.  One of the sad realities is that we are often lonely souls, even when we are surrounded by other people.  We are born alone, unless we are a twin, or a triplet, or a quadruplet.  We also die alone, unless we are part of a multiple catastrophe like a plane crash, natural disaster, etc., that takes a lot of people at the same time.   But, you get the point. We are individuals.  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… I’ve heard all this bullshit before.  What I’ve learned in my nearly 46 years on this rotating ball of iron is that we are social beings and we need interaction with other humans, with other souls, and no matter what we achieve in this life, gain or lose, it’s our faith, hope and love that matter most.  The rest are the non-essential details.

Sex, money, fame, success, the American dream, etc., all of it is bullshit if we don’t have faith, hope, and love.  Sex alone is fucking boring (pun intended). Sex with someone without love, is even worse, it’s empty and does nothing to abate the loneliness inside the soul and attacks the love we have for ourselves.  Money and all the things it can buy is powerless because it can’t buy love, respect, or faith.  I love having money, for the purpose that I can spend it making the people I love happy, or providing what they need, or being there for them if they need me. If there’s no one to spend my money on, it has no value.  Yes, I need a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and clothes on my body to keep me warm or covered.  Basic essentials are important and it takes money to supply those needs.  But, possessing those things isn’t living, it’s surviving.  Surviving is natural, and some of us do it better than others. Some of us are lazy, stupid, and immature and surviving becomes a major importance in life – but what do we strive to survive for?  I’m not living so that I have somewhere to sleep, food to eat, or somewhere to lay my head.  I don’t want to eat to live, I want live to eat.  I want to see the world, but I want to see it with someone who will enjoy all the places we go.  Like Whitney said, I want to dance – with somebody. I want to laugh – with somebody.  I want to cry – with somebody.  I want to dream – with somebody.  I want be someone’s cheerleader and share in their successes.  I want to be a shoulder they can cry on when their world starts closing in on them and squeezing their hope.  I want to have someone I can come home to and share all the exciting or boring things that happened that day.  Life is meant to be shared.  Love is meant to be shared.

I have been hungry, homeless, and in need, but I’ve never been helpless, or lazy, and I know how to survive.  I have loved with my whole heart, and it’s been broken so many times.  I have many people who love me and care about me, but I’m lonely, my faith is weak, and my hope dies a little more every day.  I have to encourage myself. I often feel unnecessary, lost, and unwanted by this world, most often forgotten.  At times I don’t want to be here anymore because I’ve lost purpose, direction.  I’m not wanted or needed and I know the world would keep turning without me in it.  But inside, deep inside, there is a soul that clings tightly to her faith.  Oh, I get angry and feel betrayed by that faith, but don’t you see – those are all evidence that it’s still there. You don’t get angry at what you don’t believe.  It’s because I believe so deeply that I get so angry.  There’s a soul that holds tightly to hope, a hope for a better tomorrow, a hope for peace, a hope for love, a hope for purpose.   And that same little soul is wrapped in love; love for a hateful and selfish world, love for a beautiful  and kind world, love for those who’ve already gone, those who are right in front of her, and even for those she’s yet to meet.

Sometimes I lose focus and allow that loneliness to consume me, the pain of it to engulf me, and I make bad decisions, do rash things, put myself in harm’s way, and fight the thoughts of giving in and giving up.  I want to, but I fight back.  I put on my smile - my armor, my shield, my sword.  I focus on the positive. I give thanks for the souls that are in my life and who take their time to listen, to let me know they care.

Yes, one day I will die and leave this place behind.  The ONLY things that will matter when I’m gone is the love I left behind.  That’s it.  NOTHING ELSE matters.  When James died, all he left me was love, and it’s gotten me through so many years, so many tears, so many times.  Just a little bit of love. I’ve done some AMAZING things with that little bit of love.  Imagine what I could do with a little bit more, fired by my faith, and infused with my hope?

Take all the sex, money, fame and success and all those materialistic and vain things people kill, betray, and abuse themselves and each other to obtain… and shove them up the world’s proverbial ass.  Give me faith – faith in myself, faith in God, and faith in my friends.  Give me hope – something to chase, something to strive for, something of value to achieve. And give me love – the binder of all things.  With these three things I will conquer the world and myself, and the devils that whisper in my ear that I’m unnecessary, unwanted, unneeded, and unloved.

Faith, Hope and Love.  1 Corinthians 13 (NIV)
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, and I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Hello, and What Have You Done With My Life?

Wow. It’s been a while. I’m not even sure I know myself anymore because I hardly recognize anything in my life. Not only have I exchanged the peach trees of Georgia for the palm trees of Florida, I’m surrounded by different people, and the routine that had been my life for the past couple years is… well, it’s just not there anymore. I’m lost, but not necessarily in a bad way. Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself. I should know this, because I’ve experienced it more times than I can count… and I can count pretty high.

I was talking to a dear friend of mine the other day and something very profound struck me. I discovered I have been trying so hard to hold on to a part of me that no longer existed. I’m not even sure of who I am anymore, even after these last few years of self-discovery. Facing death changes a person in ways it’s hard to comprehend. That change is so deep that the consequences, the effects, and the transformation are sometimes so subtle we miss them and wander around in a sense of perplexity, without realizing we’re not realizing. Make sense? I ‘used to be’ a writer, a mother, a wife, a leader, a business owner, a boss, an employee, a sister, a daughter, an adventurer, a romantic, a pragmatic, a dreamer, etc. While I may discover some of these attributes again in my life, I can’t go back to who I ‘used’ to be, no matter my history, my career, my accomplishments, my failures, my wants, or my experiences. When I faced mortality, again …the old me, the person I used to be, died – yet, I still live. I often say to myself, “Hello, and what have you done with my life?”

I’m a new person. Much the same way as expressed in the Christian faith, I’ve been reborn, made new, transformed into a new creature. Now I just have to figure out who that person happens to be. While I may wear familiar skin, the soul inside has been drastically changed. When I try to hold onto something that no longer exists, that’s when I get frustrated and lost, because this new person isn’t the same. Perhaps there are similarities, but the old me - the other me, no longer exists. I’ve been grieving her, and like the death of someone lost, I’ve tried extremely hard to hold onto her. But, I must. I must move forward. I must live in the here, in the now, and I need to start figuring out who I am – NOW. I can’t answer that question at the moment. While a lot of things from my old life are present, I have to work through them, deal with them, and resolve them in my new life, in the manner my new self decides.

So, who am I? What do I want? What can I do? What do I like? What are my fears? What are my desires? What are my dreams? The answers to these questions will determine the direction I take. I find myself this morning standing at a crossroads with many, many, many roads to choose, and I don’t have a fucking clue which one to take. But, you know what – I don’t have to know. I may choose a path I’ve taken before, or I may choose a new one altogether.

What I’ve learned from facing death is that life is the journey, not the destination, nor the past. Live in the now. Seize the day – Carpe Diem. As Jesus said, “Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Love, today. Don’t be afraid to tell the people who are important in your life that you appreciate them, love them, care for them, and adore them… today, while you still have the chance. Take a chance on life, on love, on happiness. Quit fighting to be perfect and love yourself in all your beautiful imperfections, because we are ALL imperfect, messed-up freaks.

I deeply love an imperfect asshole, but I don’t regret it, not for one second. He’s beautiful to me, especially within his imperfections. I’ve tried so hard to walk away from him, but my soul literally soars at his mere presence and withers at his absence. I hate that, yet love it at the same time. I adore a great friend who has shown me such love, such comfort, such wisdom, such patience, and such beauty in these very, very, stressful last couple of months. I couldn’t have survived without him. He has helped me down this revertant path. His soul is so beautiful, he has restored my faith in humanity and the capable goodness we all possess. I hope he will always be in my life. I appreciate and love my best friend who opened her home and her heart to the mess of me. She’ll never know how much I truly love her, because I can’t possibly express it. Maybe one day I’ll figure out how.

Well, wish me luck. I’ve got some exploring to do today, and for the first time in a long, long, long time, I’m excited about it.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

One Last Night

*A Flash Fiction Piece by T.L. Gray*


Gray clouds billow above the white foamy surf as fog rolls like a trampling stampede upon the surface of the cerulean sea. The crash of waves upon the rocks reminds me of my lovers tryst; the sea spray our wild release. I stand at the widow, staring out at the cold, magical, monochromatic morning, my chest heavy with sorrow, but no regret.

The view before me blurs amid the hot, silver tears as they fill my eyes. I flush as each warm memory fills my mind’s eye. I wrap my arms tight around me and let the images take me back, take me into our one last night.

~

Dark eyes stared into my soul, undressing me, exposing the deepest part of me, stealing my breath.

Strong, gentle fingers slowly traced the side of my face, moving slowly down my neck, and onto my shoulders, shakily leaving a trail of prickling anticipation and sweet adoration.

I shivered.

He smiled.

I let go.

Two hearts beat in unison as our bodies converged into one, staring into each other’s eyes, feeling the love, forgetting the world outside. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. Giving. Receiving. Loving. Worshipping. Sharing. No words. No promises. No lies.

My eyes grew heavy as my head rested on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapped around me, his fingers gently caressing me. A perfect moment.

I didn’t look back as he left. I couldn’t.

~

I now stand empty, cold, and alone. I can still hear his gentle breathing and feel the lingering sting of his touch, but only as ghosts and silhouettes. I walk toward those cold, crashing waves, letting go of my will, my fight, my resolve, shedding my earthly shell and the last tendrils of my humanity. I disappear into the abyss.

Death holds his bony fingers out toward me and asks, “Was it worth it, your one last night?”

I take his hand, look up at him, and smile, “What night?”

The Pick Up Line

Here's a snippet of my latest publication.  It's one of my favorite short stories.  Please visit RoadsideFiction.com and check it out and the rest of the awesome stories published there.

Here's a snippet:

The Pick Up Line’ by T.L. Gray


Sidney couldn’t get her Mustang to go fast enough around the twisting, winding, and lonely back roads. She did all she could to avoid the traffic of interstates frequented by worker bees and corporate zombies, choosing instead to take the long route. Lost in thought of the life she’d fled, the roadside bar suddenly appeared like a ghost in the misty rain.

She turned off the car’s engine and gazed blankly at the dilapidated building. Her body ached all over as she climbed out of the car and walked toward the entrance. Sidney reached for the rusted knob on the ramshackled door. Just before she touched it, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and wrapped her fingers around the knob.

The name Jake’s splayed in cracked, faded red paint across the face of the muddied panes. It wasn’t a hip or happening place judging from the lack of cars in the graveled parking lot, but it looked the way she felt – neglected, forgotten, and run down. She opened the door and stepped into darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the surroundings, Sidney cast a glance over the place, pleased to find it almost deserted. A middle-aged, fat, bald, brawny brute stood behind the bar staring up at a flat monitor on the wall. He threw a quick glance at her, but immediately returned his attention back to the basketball game. Another man, younger than the bartender, sat at the far end, his fingers tapping his beer bottle in tandem with this right leg bobbing up and down. He seemed consumed with the game playing across the screen.- See more at:

http://roadsidefiction.com/index.php/the-pick-up-line-by-t-l-gray/#sthash.ThOZiqcy.dpuf