The High School Virgin Boy (A Short Story)

I walked to my next class, focused, determined not to look at the girls butt in front of me.  It's hard.  Her jeans are tight, and I'm very attracted to her.  But I want to wait for sex.  I need to wait.  I have to wait.  I've seen what not waiting did to my mom, my dad, my family.  So much divorce, so much unfaithfulness, so much loneliness.  I have to wait.  So I won't look.

"Come on man," Vincent said.  I didn't notice him beside me.  "I know what you're doing.  What's wrong with looking?  You can look man." About a week ago I was at Vincent's house.  "Hey, Donnie, check this out."  I went with Vincent to his room.  He put a tape in the VCR, and I saw it.  I wanted to vomit.  It was the first time I saw pornography.  Having never had sex, or seen a girl naked, what I saw made me nauseous.  It wasn't what I imagined sex would be like.  The closest I could imagine of course was how it felt to hug a girl, to feel her body very close to mine, the intense arousal.  As far as I knew, that was sex.  But I didn't want simulation or the real thing.  Vincent was convinced when he showed me the tape that I should indulge my desires.  He was convinced on our way to class that I should look at the girl's butt in front of me.

"Just look man.  There's nothing wrong with it.

Of course, in a sense, he was right.  I can't help that I'm a teen aged boy behind a teen aged girl with a nice butt.  I can't help that I like how she looks.  That I want her.  Maybe I should look.  I can't help what I am.  What am I?  A young man, wanting a young woman...wanting a wife...but she's not my wife...that's the issue.  I want to give myself to one woman, and one woman alone.  "Just look man..."  We're almost across the street.  (My school is in two buildings...I have to go from one to the other.)  I had at least a full sidewalk to just enjoy the girl, or I could speed up and walk ahead of her.  "Just look man." 

I sped up.  Vincent followed, of course.  (Why do some teen aged boys feel it their duty to harass other boys about their sexual decisions?)  "What's wrong with it?"  I realized that Vincent must need my approval or something.  I heard in his voice the tone of persuasion, but who was he trying to persuade?  I had made up my mind.  She was behind me.  I was going to wait to have sex...I was going to wait, even to look at a girls' body.

How to Find Your Personal Calling (Part 1)

"...we all need to be aware of our personal calling.  What is a personal calling?  It is God's blessing, it is the path that God chose for you here on Earth.  Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend."~Paulo Coelho

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ~ Howard Thurman

Today I had one of the purest experiences of intuition I've ever had in my life; I knew with perfect certainty what was going to happen before it happened; I knew what a young man was going to say before he said it.  He raised his hand after a student spoke, and I knew what was on his mind, what was on his lips.  But the group therapist didn't call on him.  So he put his hand down.  A few minutes later, the therapist said to the boy, "Were you going to say something?  Did you have your hand raised?"  "No," said the boy. "Alright, said the therapist."  "Wait, I did have my hand raised," the boy said.  (He tended to be absent minded.)  Then he said it: the very thing I knew without doubt he was going to say.  I smiled.  I wanted to share this revelation with the therapists, to see if each of them had experienced the same revelation.  I'd hoped they had.  I didn't want it to be unique, or some kind of super power for me alone.  I wanted to know if they knew what I knew.  If they did, I would've found joy.  If they didn't, I would've found joy.  A shared or unique revelation equally brings me joy.

Revelations fill me with enthusiasm.
Revelations make me come alive.

The feeling (A Short Story)

I realized that I hate God.  I wouldn't admit it at first, but I can't deny it now.  This is how I came to know the truth about myself.

One day I was home alone and my house was quiet.  Silent even.  I was in bed, about to get up, but not quite ready to get out of bed.  So I couldn't turn on any noise.  I needed the noise.  TV.  Music.  Something.  It was just too quiet.  All I could hear were my thoughts.  And something else actually.

I don't know if I can describe it, but I'm sure you've felt it too.  It's like the clichéd sound of silence, the silence behind the silence, the stillness behind the stillness.  That's what I hated.  That feeling behind the feeling, like someone was watching and listening. Not like a criminal or stalker or anything.  Someone worse.  Worse isn't a good word.  I felt watched and heard and known.  Exposed.  Alone, but not alone.  I realized that this feeling never really leaves.  Not really.  Even when I put on all the noise, it's there, but I can ignore it better.  But "it" is not an it...I came to see.  Because an it can't listen to me or watch me or know me.  I didn't hate an it.  I hated the eyes that see what I really am and hear what I'm really saying...even what I'm thinking.  In fact, all I was doing was thinking lazily in my bed, and I knew that He was in my head...seeing me, knowing me.  I wanted him to leave me alone.  To be really left alone.  To just enjoy being by myself in my house for once.  Maybe that's it.  When He's around, which is all the time, I don't feel like it's my house, or my life, or my head...not really.  I don't feel like I'm a slave or anything...but I do feel like He's...well...God.  Everywhere.  Knowing everything.  I can't make Him leave.  And I hate Him for that.  I realize that I hate Him for being Him.  Why is He so free?  Why can't I be that free?  Why does He get to be the only God?

So I hate Him...which makes me evil...but what is evil any way?  Whose to say.

The Listener (A Short Story)

I saw a man with pale skin and dark hair sitting on a park bench alone.  He sat still and peaceful.  I watched his face, intrigued.  What was I seeing?  He focused, but on nothing that I could see.  He seemed in deep thought, but not exactly.  He didn't have any ear plugs in as if listening to music or talking on the phone.  Ear plugs.  Music.  Phone.  These gave me clues to what I thought I saw.  Focused, yet not on trees or people or squirrels.  Focused, yet not on thoughts or memories.  His face didn't betray the worry of someone thinking about the future, nor the anger of a conversation gone wrong, nor the sadness of a conversation that never happened.  But his look had the same feel as one deep in thought, or as one who had ear plugs in.  Then I knew.  I made the connections.

The man listened.

But to who?

His face had the look of understanding, of connecting with someone.  But there was no one there.  He resembled someone with earplugs in that he seemed to listen to some internal source.  Of course.  Whoever he listened to was inside of him.  That's exactly how it looked.  It's like someone in him spoke to him, and it was also as if he spoke back.  The serenity and clarity on his face gave me the clue.  But I think I always knew who he spoke to. 

The Smile of God (A Short Story)

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
Matthew 5:3

God, I want to do your will, no matter what.  Please show me your will.

I wait, alone, in the silence of my room, cherishing time to hear from my Creator. 

Then it happens.  An undeniable impression.
I saw the face of the love of my life, the woman I adored deeply. 

Intuitively, I knew what I had to do.  In three days, when she would come to me, I was to end our relationship.

I can't.  Not that.  Can't I work things out with her?  I know she rejects You, but maybe she's immature.  She may need more time.

The impression remained.  The date was set.  In three days, I must let her go.

On day one, I fasted and prayed, seeking every verse that suggested the possibility of her change of heart.

On day two, I took a vow of silence.  I wanted to hear with a clear heart.  I must know from God.

On day three, the day of the decision known by intuition in my impression, I lay prostrate before God.

Please.  Dearest God.  Please. 

The answer remained.  God's mind doesn't change.

I hear a knock on my door.  It's her.  My heart and soul is at my door.

Hi.
Hey sweetie.  What took you so long to answer?
I have something to tell you.  Please come in.
What's wrong?  You look...I don't know...what's going on?
I look deeply into her dark, soft eyes, those brown eyes that melt me.  And I simply said it.
We can't be together.
Why?

Remember when I told you that I have come to a point in my life where I want to belong completely to God?

I remember.

You said you didn't want that, but that you respected my wishes.  But we can't be together, we can't get married, if we aren't both seeking God's will for our lives.

Darren....why?
More than anything, anything in this world, I hated it when she cried.

Melissa, with all of my heart and soul, I love you.  But I love God supremely.  We can't be together.

Her brown tear filled eyes continued to melt me.  She kissed me sweetly, a kiss that entranced me, but didn't sway me.

I love you too, Darren.

Then she was gone.

As I watch her walk to her car I feel like running after her, grabbing her, hugging her, changing my mind.  I felt like I could...almost like I would.  If she'd only been mad, it would've been so much easier to watch her walk away.  She looked back, and waved the most beautiful wave I've ever seen.  Why can't she just get mad, look mad, act mad?  I'm in love with the way she's leaving.  She gets in her car, shuts the door, drives away.

Then it happened.

It felt like a cloud lifting, like a mist evaporating.  The temptation was over.  I felt light and enlightened,  clarity filled me and came over me. 

I felt the smile of God.