Well, here it is...another blog launched out into cyberspace amongst the already dizzying number of personalities represented online...this one from a guy buy the name of Bryan, Christian name Peter.
At 25 years of age--not a lot by most people's standards but pretty much standard fare for bloggers--I've already marked my existence with several labels, some much deeper than other temporary and transitory ones. Right now I'm a high school Spanish teacher--yes, that's me, the one who made you suffer through all those irregular verb conjugations you've long since forgotten!--a swing dance aficionado, a casual lover of fine tequilas and cigars, a soon-to-be father (June 16th, Lord willing), and a communicant of the Holy Eastern Orthodox Catholic Church.
That, though, is what I do...how would I begin to say who I am? At this very moment, I'm a Texas Democrat (soon to be independant, most likely) who's trying to figure out how to relate to the prison-bait punk in his late teens who lives just down the street and gets his kicks talking trash to all us suburbanites who live on the drive...my impending fatherhood has awakened all sorts of emotions in me, not the least of which is the instinct to buy a gun "just in case"...which is something that shocks my more liberal, pascifist side but is comforting in a primal sort of way. Tonight, a bit of resolution, if only in my heart; this young man may be nothing more than a banger (one who dresses and acts as a gang member but who is, in reality, merely posing for intimidation or attention purposes). But if he is, after all, a real danger, I know the real battle--after doing all within my power to act wisely and protect myself and my family--is to allow my Lord to "direct my life in the paths of peace," as one prayer puts it, realizing that all is a gift, my loved ones included. If--and may God forbid and prevent this!--something were to happen, all things would return to Him who sent them and owns them. My rage, my indescribable anger, my confusion and bitterness and disillusion and second guessing...all of these, if nothing else, must be tempered with the knowledge that I brought nothing into this world, and I truly can take nothing out. Nor can Kilo (the young man). This boy may touch our bodies; he may not. But regardless, all he can do to our souls is hasten the day when we come face to face with our Judge and Lover.
All these are the (heavy-handed!) opening comments of a Peter who's trying to find his footing on the unsure, open waters of life, with only a prayer--"Lord, save me!"--to sustain him.
Welcome, everybody, to Stumble On Water.
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