Eye Am —

See what I did there?

'Cause "I" and "eye" sound the same.

That's what they call a homonym (not that there's anything wrong with that).

(Hey, I never promised they'd be clever.)

So, here's the deal: I forgot to bring my power cord home and I have 57% of my battery remaining. It says that means 2 hours 26 minutes of life left to expound upon my spiritual beliefs, but I don't trust laptop batteries.

A laptop battery killed my father.

And that's why I worship at the Altar of the Almighty Ameren.

Ah, see, there, now it says I have 56% with 1:14 remaining. You're telling me I lost 72 minutes in a single percentage point? I hate to break it to you, computer, but this rate is not sustainable.

Um... I'm gonna SAVE NOW.

I've got a black plastic knife in my teeth. Does that make me a synthetic Pyrate?

55% and 2:11. My computer is breaking the zeroth law of thermodynamics.

Okay, it's not, but still, ya know? Come on computer.

Anyway, last night we saw Larry. Morphined, but quasi-lucid. Better than I was expecting. But this is goodbye and I'm waiting to go over there this afternoon and hang out.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

The thing is, we haven't know Larry and Julie all that long. It was around last Thanksgiving, I think. But we've hung out a lot and we like Larry a lot, because he's just such a cool guy to hang with and talk to and give shit to.

That's shitty enough.

Then there's the aftermath that Julie and the kids will live with. His son just turned 12. He's worried most about his son.

It breaks my heart because Methuselah is 9. The mere thought of leaving him, or the girls, behind is just devastating to me, and to know such a good family that is about to endure the hardships of that reality... it's overwhelming, and it's not even my family.

I just wanna hug the shit out of all of them.

Which begs the question (and yes, I'm using it incorrectly in its original sense because I believe in the pliability of language), wherefore art thou, God?

And I think the answer is in the story of the execution of Jesus.

But before I scare away anyone, I should give a little background on my beliefs and why you need not fear an evangelical Atchka!

First of all, I'm not prescribing any particular set of beliefs or nonbeliefs. I'm not endorsing one faith over another. I'm simply here representing what I've come to believe, which I have arrived at through a lifetime of searching, as most of us have.

My Journey and your Journey are not incompatible. What you believe is of no more importance to me than what you eat or read or make out with. Why should it?

And I love hearing about what others believe. I'm a subscriber to the elephant analogy outlook. There's a little bit of Truth everywhere, atheism and agnosticism included. There's no such thing as nonbelief (contrary to popular usage). An atheist believes in the nonexistence of God.

So, here's my history.

Cradle Catholic, son of a converted Catholic (there's a big difference... converted Catholics are really Catholic-y). 12 years Catholic school, involved in youth groups since around 6th grade, when my mom (the convert) became the youth minister at my grade school.

She sent me and my two older brothers to First Christian Church of [INSERT HOMETOWN HERE] to see what their youth group was like. Being an unpopular child, I found the idea of forced friends quite appealing (although I came to find that there are Christian bullies and dickweeds... plenty of them).

I dove in full force and really got into my faith. The nondenominational perspective was an appealing one. It seemed like all you had to do was get baptized and BOOM! you were in.

Maybe I'm oversimplifying it, but that's the impression I got as a kid. I stuck with it from 6th grade until the summer before my junior year of high school, when I was denied the legitimacy of my Catholicism.

(Ouch, 36% remaining.)

The following January, I attended a Teens Encounter Christ (TEC) retreat. TEC is Catholic. I got to know some cool people my age who seemed to genuinely like me, as opposed to the insincerity I had felt at the other place.

They belonged to a Life Teen youth group, so I started going there. They, in turn, would go to these things called Steubenville conferences, which were charismatic Catholic conferences.

Charismatic basically means that instead of the typical Catholic sitting-standing-kneeling method of worship, you really get into it. Singing and praying and praising and speaking in tongues and laughing and passing out.

Life Teen fit me. Charismatic did not.

I enjoyed going most because the truly charismatic portions of the events were only in the evenings, while the daytime was spent socializing with people from across the country.

In high school, I also went to Christian workcamps, which were essentially the same thing. I went to one in Michigan, one in West Virginia and one in Florida, my sophomore, junior and senior years.

During the day, you and your team (people you've never met before) of five or so would go the worksite, which was some person's home. These were people who qualified due to income restrictions, but the tradeoff was that they had a bunch of teenagers making home repairs.

I bet those homeowners had to sign some pretty hefty waivers.

Anyway, I became pretty Catholic. Yes, I was pro-Life at this time. I believed abortion should be illegal, which colors my current perspective on abortion now. I believe abortion should be legal, but we should aim to reduce their necessity through effective birth control.

I met a lot of different Catholics during this time and although there are some fairly unpleasant, hateful people in the Catholic Church, there are a lot of genuinely wonderful people who are living Christlike lives from what I can see. I have a lot of admiration for Catholics, I can't help it. I love the perspective of the lay Catholic (as opposed to the official, dogmatic Catholicism).

So, at the end of my senior year of high school, I failed Honors Calculus and was denied my diploma. I went to my community college, tested out and took the highest course they would allow me and passed. They would accept it, so I didn't get a high school diploma.

Lost, and not really sure what to do with my near future, I applied to join a team of travelling Catholic youth ministers who put on day-long retreats for youth groups and schools. It was right up my alley.

I took a Greyhound to Chicago (I think it was Chicago, maybe it was Milwaukee) and was picked up to go to where the Mall of America is. We didn't stay at Mall of America, though.

(It's been 12 years since then, sorry my details are spotty.)

I thought it went pretty well, but had my doubts. As a graduation gift, my oldest brother gave me a copy of On the Road and wrote me a letter in the cover that said he gave it to me because this was "what I wanted to do."

On the busride home, I began to think about what I would do if I didn't get the position. Something about the book and the inscription and my history of going to all these conferences and camps around the country put me in the mind of hitchhiking.

(24%)

When I got home, I went about my life until I got word from the group that they weren't able to accept me at that time because I wasn't mature enough (story of my life), but to apply again the following year.

Completely without direction, I began to pray about it and more and more hitchhiking struck me as a feasible option.

I thought and prayed and thought and prayed and about two or three weeks later I was at mass and it was weighing heavy on my mind and heart, so I asked God to tell me what I should do.

The gospel was Mark 6: "Then Jesus went around teaching from village to village. Calling the Twelve to him, he sent them out two by two and gave them authority over evil spirits.

These were his instructions: 'Take nothing for the journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in your belts. Wear sandals but not an extra tunic. Whenever you enter a house, stay there until you leave that town. And if any place will not welcome you or listen to you, shake the dust off your feet when you leave, as a testimony against them.'"

Two things I probably should have mentioned.

My feet hate shoes.

The only surgery I've ever had was for an in-grown toenail, and that was because of shoes. After it healed, I wore shoes again and the hangnail came back. I started wearing sandals exclusively and the problem went away.

And when I went on my senior year retreat with my classmates (time is short, so I'll spare you the story), I came across a walking stick at a very crucial moment in my faith, and I had brought it home.

So, the Gospel hit me hard and I determined then and there to do it.

Prayed and prayed, decided I would go in the fall and, starting in St. Louis, go down to Dallas, over to Florida, up to New York, then across to British Columbia where I would meet up with a girl I had gotten to know online. I estimated I'd be gone a year.

Along the way, I would stop at the homes of friends I had met at these conferences and depend solely on others for support (the Great Mooch Schlepp of 1997!). As I began informing people of my decision, they would ask, "Why?" And I would say, "I don't know. I just feel called. Maybe I'm supposed to evangelize."

I prayed about when to go and decided the Fall would be best. Prayed about when specifically, and out of nowhere decided October 10. A few days later, I got word of a retreat at the University of Missouri — Columbia. It was called Awakenings. It was like TEC for college students.

Guess what day it was.

I considered it yet another providential sign and my confidence in God's blessing grew.

(16%)

The retreat was life-altaring (SIC pun intended).

Whereas before I had applied to the Franciscan University of Steubenville — Ohio because it seemed like the ideal spiritual/educational hub, now Mizzou seemed just as plausible (if much cheaper).

I wound up staying a week longer than planned in Columbia. People invited me to stay with them and they used their cafeteria cards to feed me. I made some great friends and hated to strike out on the road, but finally felt the time was right.

With 60 bucks in my pocket, a hiker's pack on my back, the walking stick supporting me (and the pack while thumbing), my sandals on my feet, a bigass knife hanging from a sheath across the pack's crossbar, and my monkey (stuffed) by my side, I headed out.

Someday I'll write more about it, maybe, but skip two months forward. I've been down to Dallas, over to Florida, up to New York, down to Virginia and back to St. Louis. The girl and I had a fight over religion (she was Seventh Day Adventist and kept trying to convince me that the Pope was the Antichrist).

Although I did stay at a few homes of people I knew, the majority of my nights were spent in the dorms or homes of Catholic college students I'd find at the Newman Centers of Universities all along the way.

U of A — Birmingham was one of favs. Those people were cool as hell.

How much did I evangelize? Not a word. I'm not an evangelist.

Did I ever feel not safe? Nope. Creeped out? Sure. Not safe? Never.

Did I ever not find a place to sleep? Four nights. Two times I used my tent in consecutive nights in Oklahoma. Once I slept in my sleeping bag between a gas station and a cotton field outside Birmingham, the other a guy let me sleep on his hammock in Montgomery. (I think. Not enough time to consult a map).

So what was the point? I ultimately decided it was to teach me that no matter what, if you turn your life over to God, He will take care of you.

That was 12 years ago.

But I only have 12% left, so I'll keep going, but I'll have to stop soon.

I applied to Mizzou for the following Fall and went for a full year before I met the Ex (Methuselah's mom). My faith flourished during that first year and during the second semester I gave a talk at Awakenings about my struggle with my sex-life. Although still a technically a virgin, I had begun to engage in behavior that was blurring the line (blowjobs).

About two months later I met the Ex and lost my virginity.

The following September she got pregnant and we dropped out.

And that ended my formal religious associations. After that, things start to get less... traditional.

But my battery's about to go, so I'll have to continue another day.

Happy Sunday everyone, I hope this has been a great weekend for you as well.