Building Upon the Ruins: A Life I Never Lived

derkrash-at-yahoo-dot-com

Sometimes I get into a nostalgic mood. It might be the French in me, or the South in me. However, for the purposes of this forum, I have a few things I would like to share.

I can remember vividly life before my family converted to Pentecost. I was 8 years old when we converted. But, I can still see those images, relive the moments, and smell the smells in my mind of the life I once knew. This was before May of 1982. I remember being part of a larger community where I grew up. I was part of my neighborhood and an integral part of my school. There was this ethos of custom that held us all together at school, church, government, family, or anything else. There was this sense that there was something solid and something we could have as a point of reference. I went to school and I was PART of the school. I was PART of my circle of friends. I was CONNECTED to my community in a profound way. The family get-togethers were easy going and one knew that it would last forever. Things were assumed to last forever and all things were solid. We would sometimes have family gatherings at the beach and have a good time. Sometimes, we would go out toward the Louisiana swamps, to the levee, cut the grass on a short piece, and camp out for the day as an entire extended family. My grandfather was always full of wise old sayings and just the presence of him gave us safety through his wise eyes. In school, I was not an outcast, but an integrated member of the order of things.

But all of this changed with Pentecost. The world and everything else then took on a difference cast. I was disconnected and alienated from everything that I had known. Slowly, I could not longer relate to other kids in school and hung out with outcasts for the most part. There were fewer family gatherings where we would play music, ride horses, and motorcycles. My cousins slowly grew distant and alien to me – and I to them. We went to the beach, but it was no longer fun,because we had strange clothes on and we did not fit in. We camped out a few times, but all the fun was gone since fun might not be good. The conversations with the extended family became guarded and less easy. Those around us in the community did not know what to make of the religion, and thus avoided us. Family bonds forged before Pentecost were broken into pieces in divorce after the corrosive effects of Pentecost set in their irreversible paths.

I was due to make my First Communion as part of the Roman Catholic Church. Ritual and Rites of Passage are integral to living life tothe fullest. But before I could experience these Rites of Passage, I was thrown into the consuming fires of Pentecost. My friends had these compasses – these maps and bearings - to guide them through life. I was a wandering nomad with no map nor compass. Pentecost gives us nothing since we need no guidance because, you know, God will come tomorrow morning just before breakfast.

And thus, the damage is done. I married in Pentecost. As I woke up to the reality of the situation, there were some things that were done that could not be undone. I hoped that this break with Pentecost would not damage my marriage. I am thankful to have an angel for a wife. She understands. At least I think she does. I have things that I did not do as I grew up that I cannot go back and do. All that is lost forever. All I can do is pick up the pieces I can find, and build upon the ruins of a life never lived.

And so, here I am, groping in the dim light, attempting to find my way. I find the Lutheran church a good map or compass at this stage in my life to renew the lost heritage of Sacramental Christianity that I was robbed of. I must take what I can find. I cannot become a Roman Catholic again, for I cannot become that which I know I am not. Some things are irreversible. Some things are lost forever.

But I must move on. There is a life to live yet. I can begin anew today and everyday. I have a beautiful family – nuclear family – that I love with all my heart and for that I am grateful for these gifts from God. I can start the world anew in the life of my son and hope to pass on something to the next generation that is Eternal. In this, I am hopeful.


JPI