I'm not really the "sit down on social media and pour out my my heart, or VENT" kind of a guy. Honestly if I wasn't an artist, I probably wouldn't be on social media at all. But as 2014 has come to an end, I just needed to say this out loud. I don't really care if anyone reads it actually. It's more for me than anyone else I think. And I know it's a couple days late, but as I sit here thinking about 2014, I'm exhausted more than anything. Feeling the need to take a really big breath. And then exhale. Like, "Wow, we actually got through that hellish fiery furnace of a year". I mean, first our one year old breaks his collar bone, then gets second degree burns on his feet, then we surprisingly find out we're pregnant with #4! Only to find out a few weeks later that our unborn baby has a terminal disease with zero percent chance of surviving, then my dad has a heart attack, my best friend literally almost dies from a fluke viral infection in his heart, my wife's best friend, at age 33, has to have a hysterectomy, one of our closest family friends almost kills himself and his son drunk driving, my grandparents are in the hospital all year, I had the worst relational tension in my adult life (it was work related, my marriage is great :)), my wife was put on bed rest for months at at time, in and out of the hospital, children and friends died way too young, lucemia, babies in the ICU, two uncles died, Grandma died, the list goes on. It's like a friggin news real of 2014's worst moments in the world. But this wasn't THE WORLD. This was MY WORLD. My little tiny world. I mean, I'm exhausted just typing it. And yet in the midst of that there were some really beautiful moments. Two of my sisters had baby girls. My youngest sister graduated from college. After two VERY LONG years of pouring my soul into my newest album, it was finally done. I traveled the world. I had the best tour of my life in Brazil. I found new depths as an artist in 2014. I found new depths as Dad and Husband (having a wife and kids on bed rest or sick, or in the hospital half of the year will do that to a man). I feel healthier than I've felt in fifteen years. I'm more in love with my wife than ever before. I realized that growing up in a broken home really jacked me up - like bad, which has set me on a path of real healing and freedom. I've learned to trust God in a way I never have before. I value life more. And the little things. I value the little things more than ever before. I'm more aware of eternity, and a little less concerned with stuff - with the physical. I've honestly never been so glad that a year has come to an end. I've honestly never really cared that much. But if 2014 was the Russian dude in Rocky 4, then I'm Apollo Creed. I can't describe how thrashed I feel from this year. But as much disdain as I feel toward 2014, in so many ways I'm thankful. That might sound weird. But there's a big part of me that is thankful. Thankful for the hurt. Thankful for the suffering. Thankful for the fire.
So... tomorrow, I'm going to bury my son.
Let that sink in for a minute.
There are actually no words to describe how that feels, so I won't even attempt it. But that kind of thing does something to a person. Something deep (again unexplainable). I don't even think I understand the depths of it myself. Maybe I never will. But I think it's kind of like fire. Sure, fire is real good at burning stuff. Bringing pain. Destroying stuff. I see it every year living in Southern California. I see the damaging effects of fire every time I drive up the San Bernardino mountains and take in the blackness of the charred pine trees that line Highway 18. But fire wasn't meant JUST TO BURN. Fire has a deeper purpose.
Fire makes things beautiful.
Yes. It is always HOT. And it always hurts when you're in it. No matter the size. No matter the source. It always hurts. But it also always does work. Good work. And for that I'm grateful. But I'm also grateful to be (hopefully) on the other side of it - coming out of the fire. To the place where the beauty starts to come out. Where I start to feel it's warmth and begin to partake in it's glorious benefits. So here's to a year of beauty. A year of healing. A year of new.
2014, you were a gnarly one. You were like a never ending bonfire, that wouldn't let up. And so, for your tenacity, I respect you. I see you. I bow my knee to you. But it's time to be moving on now. PEACE!
Hello new.
