From: Gary West
Sent: Saturday, August 09, 2008 10:55 PM
Subject: First Something
Funny how many notebooks look alike.
Billions of pages forming Millions of notebooks, how many just alike?
I picked one up and shoved it in my case unknowingly.
Later I opened it to work........sketches of camps, beach homes, ideas,
schemes, plans, shooting houses sketches....they were there first...
Lines on paper, old scribble, a doodle here, a doodle there, like
ancient art, primitive carefree.
Like drawings on a cave wall. No perfect rhyme or reason except to me.
The lines are mine. The evolution of my sketches can be seen in many
notebooks over the years.
They represent something so familiar and yet so foreign at the same
time. They are like a snap shot of a reflection in a pool before the
pool dried up.
They represent plans for dwellings that we could all share. I could see
the heavy timber frame hammer beam trusses. The Tennessee dry stacked
stone fireplace. The glass over looking the water. The wrap around bar
that allowed me to cook and serve a small army all while being able to
see them and talk...share.
I could see the decorator colors of the camp, deep red, green, and gold.
The colors of Christmas and fall. The camo bedding in the bunk room for
the grandchildren (to come).
The beaded wood ceiling. The cypress 6 panel doors stained different
colors to designate the red room the green room...
The stained concrete floors, saw cut and printed with wildlife patterns.
The heads of game and the bookshelves full of books.
Those are the things I can see in the sketches, the doodle, the scribble,
the ugly notes.
I can visualize the camp like I am there. I can see the water, the
colors, the fall leaves, the ducks landing. I can smell the oak burning.
I can feel the approach of a cold front.
I can see in my mind the seasons change as we move from staying at the
camp to the gulf.
The earth going green to red, red to gold and then the grey of winter.
Spring buds light green and then we begin again.
I can smell the grill and the food. I can hear the vehicles pull in. The
music, the voices, the laughter.
I can see the little ones jump out with the adventure of life all over
them.
I can feel the heat of the fireplace in winter and the cool of the water
in summer.
I can see the firsts.
The first deer, bass, squirrel, brim, snapper, rifle shot, bow shot, and
popping bug.
The first time to skin a deer, or clean a fish.
I loved my dreams, I wanted to finish what I have been dreaming about
for years.
I wanted the space, the individual privacy and the togetherness all in
one design.
I worked on it over and over and over. Justin looked at my drawings when
I put them on AutoCAD. He stood behind me just like Allen did and would
just say awesome. That was his word. I wanted something big enough to
never leave anyone out. I showed him his room, the guest room, the great
den, the kitchen.
This was within the last two weeks of his time with us.
I now sit and slowly close the notebook. The sketches are not valuable
anymore. They have served the purpose. They are a vanishing reflection
of a previous image.
My hearts desire was to have my family expand, grow and grow.
I wanted to just relax and enjoy them, serve them, teach them, and love
them.
I think about my ability to sketch and build for mine and then I am
reminded of Jesus when He said "I go to prepare a place for you"
I am set back but He is not. He is preparing a place that I cannot
imagine.
Allen and Justin looked over my shoulder, they know how I saw the
future.
I wish I could look over theirs now, to see the real future.
To see the "first something" the Lord is showing them in my stead.
Lord,
Thanks for the ability to dream, now I dream of heaven. My heart skips
when I think of it and I feel your Spirit confirm that you are waiting
on me.
Waiting to show me some "first somethings".
Gary
Friday, August 7, 2009
August 7, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, August 07, 2008 7:21 AM
Subject: Balance
Oh Lord please,
Help me,
Strike the balance,
Between heart and mind,
Between my will and Yours,
Between this world and the next,
Between work and family,
Between dreams and destiny,
Between intentions and actions,
Let me be placed on your scales,
And my life be perfect in the measure,
Let me be balanced for you Lord,
All parts saturated with You,
All parts equally Yours,
Please balance me,
Wring me out, dip me,
Dip me in you,
Deep and cool,
You satisfy,
G
Sent: Thursday, August 07, 2008 7:21 AM
Subject: Balance
Oh Lord please,
Help me,
Strike the balance,
Between heart and mind,
Between my will and Yours,
Between this world and the next,
Between work and family,
Between dreams and destiny,
Between intentions and actions,
Let me be placed on your scales,
And my life be perfect in the measure,
Let me be balanced for you Lord,
All parts saturated with You,
All parts equally Yours,
Please balance me,
Wring me out, dip me,
Dip me in you,
Deep and cool,
You satisfy,
G
August 6, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 11:30 AM
Subject: Greatest gift
Lord,
Thank you,
For letting me know,
For the lives, they tell the story,
The Spirit confirms the tale,
The story is continuing,
The threshold to eternity is breached,
The adventure is on,
No card, no letter, no call, no conversation can confirm,
What you reveal,
By your Spirit
By your Power
By your voice
The pain of loss is blocked by the Spirit revealing,
Revealing the hem of the garment,
Allowing a touch, a handful.
The word is alive in this world, calling us out, calling us back,
Back to Him, and on.
On to our destiny,
On to the great unknown, on to the adventure of serving under the great
I AM.
On to the next level, on to the reality beyond,
Beyond our imagination,
Beyond our comprehension,
Beyond our understanding,
Beyond our dreams,
Our destiny with him.
It is beyond and the greatest gift,
Is knowing...
G
Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 11:30 AM
Subject: Greatest gift
Lord,
Thank you,
For letting me know,
For the lives, they tell the story,
The Spirit confirms the tale,
The story is continuing,
The threshold to eternity is breached,
The adventure is on,
No card, no letter, no call, no conversation can confirm,
What you reveal,
By your Spirit
By your Power
By your voice
The pain of loss is blocked by the Spirit revealing,
Revealing the hem of the garment,
Allowing a touch, a handful.
The word is alive in this world, calling us out, calling us back,
Back to Him, and on.
On to our destiny,
On to the great unknown, on to the adventure of serving under the great
I AM.
On to the next level, on to the reality beyond,
Beyond our imagination,
Beyond our comprehension,
Beyond our understanding,
Beyond our dreams,
Our destiny with him.
It is beyond and the greatest gift,
Is knowing...
G
August 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, August 03, 2008 7:37 PM
Subject: Beginning of the ending
I am without the words to express my view, my emotions, my present
world.
Perhaps that is my lot. To be locked inside a maze unable to even
describe it.
I wonder what God is thinking, I wonder what I am to glean from
this...other than true misery.
The cut is not healing, it seems gangrenous. I pretend that it doesn't
exist.
Then an image of a boy, a couple, a child, a young man, a set of
shoulders, a pair or work boots, a labeled hard hat, a fishing lure or
old cap. They bump into the wound and the pain is all controlling and
migrates over and into my whole being.
So I am permanently flawed with the inverse of my great love. The
missing parts of my life are larger than I can explain. Larger than I
can ever replace.
The memories once so cherished, so taken for granted are the foundation
for the attacks on my heart. I hate that I cannot stop them. At the same
moment I could not live without them.
So there I am.
Stuck between a lagoon of misery filled with memories, and the cliffs of
questions, ringed with boulders of doubt.
I have tried to get out and for a while it seems that I actually
disengage from my reality and function in a non-real, shallow thought
field.
Where I just act like the whole event is some tragic novel that I am
reading. I just quit reading it for a while. Just pretend to be normal.
Just disconnect from the characters in the book. Just let it lay and act
normal. Don't read it, don't touch it, don't disturb it, just ignore it.
I just act normal hoping normal will come back.
I pretend to push, I pretend to care.
I run at the pile, I try and make it move out of the way.
And then I slow enough to be bumped by a memory. A memory that is
spurred by reality around me.
I miss my life. It is gone and I can't seem to find a handle on what is
left for me.
I wonder if the commentary will be "He was never the same, man did he
sink fast".
"He could never recover, he lost it..."
That is not what the boys would have liked. They would have thought me
tougher.
But I know now that my weakness is exposed. My soft sides are zeroed in
on. The spot that is sensitive to the touch is now gored out.
I stand in a state of hemorrhage.
I am not tough, I am found out. I am weak.
Weakness in the flesh, but calloused in the Spirit. I have had to call
on the Spirit man to work in this time. He has made blisters in an
effort keep me in Gods grip.
He is needed, he must muscle up. He must be stronger still, for the
battle is yet to come.
The battle for the beginning of the end.
I have a destiny, just as the boys did. I must win this battle inside to
meet up with them and see the end of time, and the beginning of eternity.
G
Sent: Sunday, August 03, 2008 7:37 PM
Subject: Beginning of the ending
I am without the words to express my view, my emotions, my present
world.
Perhaps that is my lot. To be locked inside a maze unable to even
describe it.
I wonder what God is thinking, I wonder what I am to glean from
this...other than true misery.
The cut is not healing, it seems gangrenous. I pretend that it doesn't
exist.
Then an image of a boy, a couple, a child, a young man, a set of
shoulders, a pair or work boots, a labeled hard hat, a fishing lure or
old cap. They bump into the wound and the pain is all controlling and
migrates over and into my whole being.
So I am permanently flawed with the inverse of my great love. The
missing parts of my life are larger than I can explain. Larger than I
can ever replace.
The memories once so cherished, so taken for granted are the foundation
for the attacks on my heart. I hate that I cannot stop them. At the same
moment I could not live without them.
So there I am.
Stuck between a lagoon of misery filled with memories, and the cliffs of
questions, ringed with boulders of doubt.
I have tried to get out and for a while it seems that I actually
disengage from my reality and function in a non-real, shallow thought
field.
Where I just act like the whole event is some tragic novel that I am
reading. I just quit reading it for a while. Just pretend to be normal.
Just disconnect from the characters in the book. Just let it lay and act
normal. Don't read it, don't touch it, don't disturb it, just ignore it.
I just act normal hoping normal will come back.
I pretend to push, I pretend to care.
I run at the pile, I try and make it move out of the way.
And then I slow enough to be bumped by a memory. A memory that is
spurred by reality around me.
I miss my life. It is gone and I can't seem to find a handle on what is
left for me.
I wonder if the commentary will be "He was never the same, man did he
sink fast".
"He could never recover, he lost it..."
That is not what the boys would have liked. They would have thought me
tougher.
But I know now that my weakness is exposed. My soft sides are zeroed in
on. The spot that is sensitive to the touch is now gored out.
I stand in a state of hemorrhage.
I am not tough, I am found out. I am weak.
Weakness in the flesh, but calloused in the Spirit. I have had to call
on the Spirit man to work in this time. He has made blisters in an
effort keep me in Gods grip.
He is needed, he must muscle up. He must be stronger still, for the
battle is yet to come.
The battle for the beginning of the end.
I have a destiny, just as the boys did. I must win this battle inside to
meet up with them and see the end of time, and the beginning of eternity.
G
August 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, August 03, 2008 7:14 PM
Subject: Boy search
Can I run a search?
Will my boys show up?
Can I type in the names and the reason for this madness be displayed?
Will someone out there know what is going on with them?
Will I be able to get the article that will sooth my wrinkled heart?
Will I do a mapquest to where they are and start my journey?
Will I find the plan behind the removal?
Will it display on the screen so I can read with my eyes the words of
explanation?
Perhaps if I search for Gary’s short comings, the boys name will appear
as a by product.
What if I search for the perfect plan of God...will this tree be
explained?
Did I push too hard? Do I hold my ground too fiercely? Did I miss the
mark?
Did God punish my faults with surgery...amputation.
So now...the screen is empty of answers,
My life is floating but broken...
I wonder around the ship. It is desolate, the sails are shredded, the
fuel is empty, the rudder is broken, there is no wind, no waves, only
the heat of loss and the smell of death.
The doldrums of summer, the heat of depression. They are all around us.
We pretend for others but the reality is like carrying a disorder, a
disease, a plague. It cannot be fully shared without infecting others.
The event plays like a recording in vivid color, over and over. The
slightest remembrance starts the recording over.
Our mind is over shadowed by our emotions, our Spirit is tranquilized by
the deep pain.
So we are made powerless by the weakest element of our being.
Our raw emotions, they tear at our reasoning, breaking into the mind and
wearing us down.
They are most susceptible to the dark side.
They are where he takes a grip, they are where he shouts accusations and
suggestions.
The mind is unable to answer the bell to the fight, it has worn itself
down. Fatigue is its new nick name.
So it throws the keys to the Spirit, the Spirit is thin, It alone is
unable to flush out the doubt.
The Spirit must have help,
Then I pray, then He comes.
To the rescue, like a warrior He runs to me, He comforts me, He holds
me, He cradles me, He forgives me.
He is mine, He is here, always in time, always in strength.
He is my only answer, He is my only response, He is my only ally.
He floods in, He puts in order the disorder.
He cleans, He shines, He renews.
Lord,
Thank you for loving me "the unlovable" thank you for saving me "the
lowest of the low" and thank you for giving me Allen. Thank you for
bringing him home and thank you for helping me to see he and Justin
again.
I await the next level with you. My heart is for you, my life is for
you.
Make me strong "in you"
G
Sent: Sunday, August 03, 2008 7:14 PM
Subject: Boy search
Can I run a search?
Will my boys show up?
Can I type in the names and the reason for this madness be displayed?
Will someone out there know what is going on with them?
Will I be able to get the article that will sooth my wrinkled heart?
Will I do a mapquest to where they are and start my journey?
Will I find the plan behind the removal?
Will it display on the screen so I can read with my eyes the words of
explanation?
Perhaps if I search for Gary’s short comings, the boys name will appear
as a by product.
What if I search for the perfect plan of God...will this tree be
explained?
Did I push too hard? Do I hold my ground too fiercely? Did I miss the
mark?
Did God punish my faults with surgery...amputation.
So now...the screen is empty of answers,
My life is floating but broken...
I wonder around the ship. It is desolate, the sails are shredded, the
fuel is empty, the rudder is broken, there is no wind, no waves, only
the heat of loss and the smell of death.
The doldrums of summer, the heat of depression. They are all around us.
We pretend for others but the reality is like carrying a disorder, a
disease, a plague. It cannot be fully shared without infecting others.
The event plays like a recording in vivid color, over and over. The
slightest remembrance starts the recording over.
Our mind is over shadowed by our emotions, our Spirit is tranquilized by
the deep pain.
So we are made powerless by the weakest element of our being.
Our raw emotions, they tear at our reasoning, breaking into the mind and
wearing us down.
They are most susceptible to the dark side.
They are where he takes a grip, they are where he shouts accusations and
suggestions.
The mind is unable to answer the bell to the fight, it has worn itself
down. Fatigue is its new nick name.
So it throws the keys to the Spirit, the Spirit is thin, It alone is
unable to flush out the doubt.
The Spirit must have help,
Then I pray, then He comes.
To the rescue, like a warrior He runs to me, He comforts me, He holds
me, He cradles me, He forgives me.
He is mine, He is here, always in time, always in strength.
He is my only answer, He is my only response, He is my only ally.
He floods in, He puts in order the disorder.
He cleans, He shines, He renews.
Lord,
Thank you for loving me "the unlovable" thank you for saving me "the
lowest of the low" and thank you for giving me Allen. Thank you for
bringing him home and thank you for helping me to see he and Justin
again.
I await the next level with you. My heart is for you, my life is for
you.
Make me strong "in you"
G
August 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Saturday, August 02, 2008 12:31 PM
Subject: Sort
Each thought is measured,
Each goal is defined,
Each motive is checked,
Each move is predicted,
Each opportunity is considered,
Each comment is accounted for,
Each omission is noted,
Each heart is weighed,
Each work is melted and purified,
The sheet of all is placed in the creators hands,
Then he watches as they sort themselves into order.
The formula is perfect,
The method is sure,
The work from the heart is paired with work for the heart of God,
The work from the mind to influence the mind of man is paired,
The column where sin is noted is checked instantaneously for the blood
formula. When it is present the column vanishes as if it never existed.
All that is done for the smile of women or the eye of men is discarded.
The focus is the works of the heart. That is all he looks for.
Fame and works performed to be seen are discarded.
Gifts and offerings for acclaim are tossed out.
The works are piled, the flame of purpose, the flame of truth, the flame
of purity is applied.
Only the pure, from the heart, for the heart, works remain.
The sort is continuously applied.
The value we placed is replaced by the value that God places on every
thought, every move, every motive, every intention, every gift, every
use of the talents and opportunity that he gave us.
The flame is swirled into, around and through, in the end only His
remains,
The product of our entire life is shifted by the fire, the fire
predicted by the word of the creator.
Is this the place where the greatest becomes least?
Where the pile of works done for the eyes of man disappear as if they
never existed.
Where we find that the true measure is our motive paired with our
portion.
Did our works measure up to our capacity.
Did our gifts measure up when compared to our capacity to give?
Did we out give others by a tiny bit when our capacity was a hundredfold?
Did we make peace on a few occasions when we could have made peace a
thousand times?
Did we support our ministers above us all the time, or when we wanted
their ear.
Did we love only the lovable, or did we reach out to the unloved?
When the master of all, with the rulebook, sorts our life, purifies our
works....
What will the remains look like?
Will they be as small as we think ourselves grand in this life?
Or will they be as large as we think God is in this life?
Sort of a question..........
Gary
Sent: Saturday, August 02, 2008 12:31 PM
Subject: Sort
Each thought is measured,
Each goal is defined,
Each motive is checked,
Each move is predicted,
Each opportunity is considered,
Each comment is accounted for,
Each omission is noted,
Each heart is weighed,
Each work is melted and purified,
The sheet of all is placed in the creators hands,
Then he watches as they sort themselves into order.
The formula is perfect,
The method is sure,
The work from the heart is paired with work for the heart of God,
The work from the mind to influence the mind of man is paired,
The column where sin is noted is checked instantaneously for the blood
formula. When it is present the column vanishes as if it never existed.
All that is done for the smile of women or the eye of men is discarded.
The focus is the works of the heart. That is all he looks for.
Fame and works performed to be seen are discarded.
Gifts and offerings for acclaim are tossed out.
The works are piled, the flame of purpose, the flame of truth, the flame
of purity is applied.
Only the pure, from the heart, for the heart, works remain.
The sort is continuously applied.
The value we placed is replaced by the value that God places on every
thought, every move, every motive, every intention, every gift, every
use of the talents and opportunity that he gave us.
The flame is swirled into, around and through, in the end only His
remains,
The product of our entire life is shifted by the fire, the fire
predicted by the word of the creator.
Is this the place where the greatest becomes least?
Where the pile of works done for the eyes of man disappear as if they
never existed.
Where we find that the true measure is our motive paired with our
portion.
Did our works measure up to our capacity.
Did our gifts measure up when compared to our capacity to give?
Did we out give others by a tiny bit when our capacity was a hundredfold?
Did we make peace on a few occasions when we could have made peace a
thousand times?
Did we support our ministers above us all the time, or when we wanted
their ear.
Did we love only the lovable, or did we reach out to the unloved?
When the master of all, with the rulebook, sorts our life, purifies our
works....
What will the remains look like?
Will they be as small as we think ourselves grand in this life?
Or will they be as large as we think God is in this life?
Sort of a question..........
Gary
July 27, 2008
From: Gary West Sent: Sunday, July 27, 2008 9:23 PMSubject: Storm walk
The storm rages,
Inside and out,
The vessel is battered,
The waves they rise,
The winds they howl,
The rain is flung,
The lightning pops and sizzles
The clouds invert dumping their contents
They spread and swell like a wild fire,
The white plumes of water are driven in hurricane winds
The thunder is all around, near and far.
The streaks across the sky form like instantaneous spider webs
Cracking and drawing ever closer
The salt burns the eyes, the mist, the spray, the rain, the darkness blot out the vision
The fear is gone, only trust remains
The maker of the universe strolls out to show His dominance, to enjoy the show.
He is the ultimate surfer, no board required.
He feels the surge of electricity at each bolt.
He created the bolts,
He sees the sea rage, the waves rise; He knows they all answer to His voice.
He is looking for trust, coupled with courage.
A rare combination, He knows the depth of the water, the height of the waves.
He knows the depth of the heart, the height of our faith.
Yet we are called…
Out into the storm, out to the place where we haven’t been before.
He beacons us, come…
The vessel we are in is sinking; the promise of its security is withered and dead.
Then we call out…He answers with a request. Step out and walk.
Walk to him.
The trade of a known death for an unknown life.
By faith we step, we focus, we stride, we surf the swells, and we lather in the sea mist and inhale the salty flumes.
Then we lose our vision, our focus is encumbered.
Suddenly we are ankle deep, and then knee deep, then thigh deep, soon we are to the belt, the chest and then we remember to cut our eyes back to Him.
He is there, waiting for us to take His hand. Waiting for us to see Him as He is.
The maker, the creator, the breath of life, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. The beginning and the end.
We are in a constant state of submission to His Lordship. The waves, the rain, the thunder, the lightning, they all submit.
We surface in His grip; we are secure in His grasp.
When we doubt…we sink, when we trust …we rise.
We must truss in what we cannot see to rise above what we can see.
The turmoil, the storm, the fear, is all real.
But when our vision of Him is held firm, our faith rock solid… then we can rise above the substance of our fears.
As we experience the rise from the depths, the sea, the storm, the wind, the rain, the turmoil try to draw our attention.
They try to distract us. The culprit is found in distraction, the weakness is not in our inability to stop the storm but in our inability to stop studying it. To stop focusing on the mess around us.
God please help my focus, please forgive my stare at the circumstances.
Let me only see you.
Let me only hear you.
Let my fear only be of you.
Let my love only be for you.
gary
The storm rages,
Inside and out,
The vessel is battered,
The waves they rise,
The winds they howl,
The rain is flung,
The lightning pops and sizzles
The clouds invert dumping their contents
They spread and swell like a wild fire,
The white plumes of water are driven in hurricane winds
The thunder is all around, near and far.
The streaks across the sky form like instantaneous spider webs
Cracking and drawing ever closer
The salt burns the eyes, the mist, the spray, the rain, the darkness blot out the vision
The fear is gone, only trust remains
The maker of the universe strolls out to show His dominance, to enjoy the show.
He is the ultimate surfer, no board required.
He feels the surge of electricity at each bolt.
He created the bolts,
He sees the sea rage, the waves rise; He knows they all answer to His voice.
He is looking for trust, coupled with courage.
A rare combination, He knows the depth of the water, the height of the waves.
He knows the depth of the heart, the height of our faith.
Yet we are called…
Out into the storm, out to the place where we haven’t been before.
He beacons us, come…
The vessel we are in is sinking; the promise of its security is withered and dead.
Then we call out…He answers with a request. Step out and walk.
Walk to him.
The trade of a known death for an unknown life.
By faith we step, we focus, we stride, we surf the swells, and we lather in the sea mist and inhale the salty flumes.
Then we lose our vision, our focus is encumbered.
Suddenly we are ankle deep, and then knee deep, then thigh deep, soon we are to the belt, the chest and then we remember to cut our eyes back to Him.
He is there, waiting for us to take His hand. Waiting for us to see Him as He is.
The maker, the creator, the breath of life, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. The beginning and the end.
We are in a constant state of submission to His Lordship. The waves, the rain, the thunder, the lightning, they all submit.
We surface in His grip; we are secure in His grasp.
When we doubt…we sink, when we trust …we rise.
We must truss in what we cannot see to rise above what we can see.
The turmoil, the storm, the fear, is all real.
But when our vision of Him is held firm, our faith rock solid… then we can rise above the substance of our fears.
As we experience the rise from the depths, the sea, the storm, the wind, the rain, the turmoil try to draw our attention.
They try to distract us. The culprit is found in distraction, the weakness is not in our inability to stop the storm but in our inability to stop studying it. To stop focusing on the mess around us.
God please help my focus, please forgive my stare at the circumstances.
Let me only see you.
Let me only hear you.
Let my fear only be of you.
Let my love only be for you.
gary
July 25, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Friday, July 25, 2008 6:57 PM
Subject: Destiny
She is like a young lady, beautiful, tone, graceful.
She is dressed in promise, adorned with jewels, bathed in perfume.
She is like a mirage, she appears, she disappears.
She shows up, she tantalizes, she flirts, she leaves.
No one knows where she comes from or where she goes.
She is ever changing, never to be figured out.
Always traveling in a cloud of mystery.
She is like a dream, plotting her path is like capturing the wind.
She answers to no mortal and yet every mortal desires her. They
desire to catch her, to expose her, to understand her.
She is as fleeting as a moon ray, she is the destination. She is
the end of the rainbow, she is the pot of gold.
To know her, to have her mind, to know what she knows.
That is a goal, that is the measure of the unknown.
Her name is destiny, she is the point our course is headed
regardless of how we steer.
She is the direction of our steps no matter our plans, our dreams.
She is our destiny, she is hidden, she is elusive, she is there, a
great mystery.
If we could pry the future from her, to know what the next sun rise
brings, to see the future, what would we do?
How would life change? How would we change? If destiny walked in
and sat with me, what would she say?
What would I do with that information?
Would I smile, would I celebrate, or would I cry at the fear of it.
My protection, my hedge, it has been lowered.
To what end?
If she would sit with me, could she tell me the end of it all.
The depth of the future pain, the fullness of the future joy.
The manner of my future service, the end of my days...
I desire that, but she is not a form, a figure, a being to discuss
with.
She is the sum of Gods moves, his permissive will.
She is the only pathway to the next level. The only set of
circumstances, and events that we can flow through.
So we are suspended between the past events and our future. Even my
stalemate and fear of movement is part of my destiny.
I am locked on a trail, summoned by destiny to a fate, a life that I
cannot predict.
Fear and worry were not part of my past, can I push them off the
table of my future?
Can I trust the Lord with my view, with my path, with my destiny.
Will he take care of her for me. Will he keep her beautiful.
Will he make her the object of my dreams again.
Will he forge my dreams and steps together. The steps that he
controls, the dreams that he allows me to have.
Can they be reunited?
I pray so,
G
Sent: Friday, July 25, 2008 6:57 PM
Subject: Destiny
She is like a young lady, beautiful, tone, graceful.
She is dressed in promise, adorned with jewels, bathed in perfume.
She is like a mirage, she appears, she disappears.
She shows up, she tantalizes, she flirts, she leaves.
No one knows where she comes from or where she goes.
She is ever changing, never to be figured out.
Always traveling in a cloud of mystery.
She is like a dream, plotting her path is like capturing the wind.
She answers to no mortal and yet every mortal desires her. They
desire to catch her, to expose her, to understand her.
She is as fleeting as a moon ray, she is the destination. She is
the end of the rainbow, she is the pot of gold.
To know her, to have her mind, to know what she knows.
That is a goal, that is the measure of the unknown.
Her name is destiny, she is the point our course is headed
regardless of how we steer.
She is the direction of our steps no matter our plans, our dreams.
She is our destiny, she is hidden, she is elusive, she is there, a
great mystery.
If we could pry the future from her, to know what the next sun rise
brings, to see the future, what would we do?
How would life change? How would we change? If destiny walked in
and sat with me, what would she say?
What would I do with that information?
Would I smile, would I celebrate, or would I cry at the fear of it.
My protection, my hedge, it has been lowered.
To what end?
If she would sit with me, could she tell me the end of it all.
The depth of the future pain, the fullness of the future joy.
The manner of my future service, the end of my days...
I desire that, but she is not a form, a figure, a being to discuss
with.
She is the sum of Gods moves, his permissive will.
She is the only pathway to the next level. The only set of
circumstances, and events that we can flow through.
So we are suspended between the past events and our future. Even my
stalemate and fear of movement is part of my destiny.
I am locked on a trail, summoned by destiny to a fate, a life that I
cannot predict.
Fear and worry were not part of my past, can I push them off the
table of my future?
Can I trust the Lord with my view, with my path, with my destiny.
Will he take care of her for me. Will he keep her beautiful.
Will he make her the object of my dreams again.
Will he forge my dreams and steps together. The steps that he
controls, the dreams that he allows me to have.
Can they be reunited?
I pray so,
G
July 25, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Friday, July 25, 2008 5:47 PM
Subject: Reality
I see the blue lights strung out for the full length of my view.
They flash blue, a blue of caution, a blue that would be pretty in
another use.
I instinctively slow while mother and wives inhale and openly sob.
I bring the truck to a halt short of the scene.
Thinking, maybe it is better that I see it alone, see it first.
I jump out and begin to jog ahead.
Rounding the wrecker, I see the totaled remains of a mans truck, a
black truck that held my very heart.
My future, the sons of my plans.
The fathers of my grandchildren.
The backbone of every effort was represented by that battered
truck.
I asked "where are the boys?" A passerby just pointed a finger
straight up, and said "gone"
That is not the way I would have written the script.
That is not the manner that I would have called them home.
Is this a test?
Do I dare think that my maker is not concerned about me or my
reaction.
The man realized that I was more than another passerby and sends me
down the road a bit to talk to a state trooper.
He confirms, I look at the roadway and the biggest guilt of my
existence sets down squarely on my shoulders.
I see two beautiful, wonderful, graceful, young wives. I see a
mother that has lost the first born, the apple of her eye.
She is stunned, they are crushed. It is a scene that I will never
forget.
I gather them up and pray, for peace, for understanding, for His
covering.
I know that I will never understand why we had to go up, why we had
to "find the boys", and then end up at the scene.
I have determined that I don't understand anything.
I am without understanding.
I am at the point of giving up on understanding.
I have lived the best I am able.
Now I find myself in a challenge mode.
My faith is challenged by my mind, by these circumstances.
I know that God is real. But now I wonder if my service to Him
means anything. Is it really important to Him.
This event, this robbery, this hateful horrible theft is more than I
can stomach.
Is this the way my heart is measured, to be busted with bent metal,
bruised with uprooted trees and then sliced up with doubt?
I cannot look others in the eye and give the expressions of faith
that I once did. Is this the path to a permanent slide?
Am I relegated to be a marginal Christian, thin as paper. One that
is so busted that my proclamations of His love are foreign to me.
I am not worried about failing to be called a Christian but I
wonder why the effort to stay as much in His will as I did.
Because if I was indeed pleasing Him then what do I think of this
event?
If I wasn't pleasing Him.., I don't believe it is possible (for
me).
So Satan is toying with me.
He is using all the words I have read and repeated to hammer me.
All the promises, all the words of God that I expressed to my
children.
Now I am old, and broken hearted.
I am not leaving God but I can't help but feel that he has left me.
Abandoned me at 9:40pm on the 30 of May, 2008.
I don't know what to do, so I just exist. I exist in the reality of
death, the reality of loneliness.
The reality of a busted formula, a flawed equation.
I don't think that God is impressed with fakes, I have always tried
to be real.
Now I am faced with harsh reality....
Don't worry, I am just in a pit!
Gonna get out,
Gary
Sent: Friday, July 25, 2008 5:47 PM
Subject: Reality
I see the blue lights strung out for the full length of my view.
They flash blue, a blue of caution, a blue that would be pretty in
another use.
I instinctively slow while mother and wives inhale and openly sob.
I bring the truck to a halt short of the scene.
Thinking, maybe it is better that I see it alone, see it first.
I jump out and begin to jog ahead.
Rounding the wrecker, I see the totaled remains of a mans truck, a
black truck that held my very heart.
My future, the sons of my plans.
The fathers of my grandchildren.
The backbone of every effort was represented by that battered
truck.
I asked "where are the boys?" A passerby just pointed a finger
straight up, and said "gone"
That is not the way I would have written the script.
That is not the manner that I would have called them home.
Is this a test?
Do I dare think that my maker is not concerned about me or my
reaction.
The man realized that I was more than another passerby and sends me
down the road a bit to talk to a state trooper.
He confirms, I look at the roadway and the biggest guilt of my
existence sets down squarely on my shoulders.
I see two beautiful, wonderful, graceful, young wives. I see a
mother that has lost the first born, the apple of her eye.
She is stunned, they are crushed. It is a scene that I will never
forget.
I gather them up and pray, for peace, for understanding, for His
covering.
I know that I will never understand why we had to go up, why we had
to "find the boys", and then end up at the scene.
I have determined that I don't understand anything.
I am without understanding.
I am at the point of giving up on understanding.
I have lived the best I am able.
Now I find myself in a challenge mode.
My faith is challenged by my mind, by these circumstances.
I know that God is real. But now I wonder if my service to Him
means anything. Is it really important to Him.
This event, this robbery, this hateful horrible theft is more than I
can stomach.
Is this the way my heart is measured, to be busted with bent metal,
bruised with uprooted trees and then sliced up with doubt?
I cannot look others in the eye and give the expressions of faith
that I once did. Is this the path to a permanent slide?
Am I relegated to be a marginal Christian, thin as paper. One that
is so busted that my proclamations of His love are foreign to me.
I am not worried about failing to be called a Christian but I
wonder why the effort to stay as much in His will as I did.
Because if I was indeed pleasing Him then what do I think of this
event?
If I wasn't pleasing Him.., I don't believe it is possible (for
me).
So Satan is toying with me.
He is using all the words I have read and repeated to hammer me.
All the promises, all the words of God that I expressed to my
children.
Now I am old, and broken hearted.
I am not leaving God but I can't help but feel that he has left me.
Abandoned me at 9:40pm on the 30 of May, 2008.
I don't know what to do, so I just exist. I exist in the reality of
death, the reality of loneliness.
The reality of a busted formula, a flawed equation.
I don't think that God is impressed with fakes, I have always tried
to be real.
Now I am faced with harsh reality....
Don't worry, I am just in a pit!
Gonna get out,
Gary
July 24, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2008 9:08 AM
Subject: Steps
The King is asked by the creator.
"Ask what you will and it will be granted to you"
The King doesn't think long, he knows what he wants. He says "Give me
wisdom"
The creator says "because of this request I will give you other gifts
that you have not asked for".
The most valuable gift was wisdom.
Wisdom is like a tool, we can choose to use it or not.
When we use it, it brings all the other gifts into our life.
When we exclude it, we exclude the other gifts.
Why would it be so important that a King would ask for it first?
Why would the creator place so much emphasis on it that the mere request
would spur the creator to additional generosity.
I find myself begging for wisdom, wishing for it. Needing it like my
life blood.
The King would later write "a man makes his plans but God directs his
steps"
When Allen would see life go in a direction other than he had planned I
would tell him "Son, God is in charge, he tells us that we can plan and
plan, we can push in our own direction but at the end of the day, God
directs our steps"
I can remember telling him that at his most disappointing times in life.
When he didn't get the call he expected.
When he didn't get the position,
When he didn't get the opportunity,
when he didn't get the favor that he thought he deserved.
When he had injuries, and on and on.
I always felt that God meant what the wise King Solomon wrote.
Our plans are subject to His directing our steps-
Now I am where my son was.
I had layers and layers of plans, layers and layers of opportunities for
Allen and Justin.
I had the road maps in my head, the vision was so clear. The plans were
fluid and subject to change based on the boys inclinations but they were
right in the middle of it all.
Now that stack of plans, the preparations for them, the mental, physical
and financial effort to see where it might go is wasted.
It reminds me of gearing up for a project. Drawings, equipment, real
estate, machinery, and all types of design is put forth.
Years of planning, nurturing, and caressing the plans. Hours, days and
weeks of training are lovingly poured in.
The adventure of a lifetime is before us.
And then "God changes the direction of our steps"
The steps sure turned from the plans, the vision, the security of our
dreams.
They don't allow time for modification.
The steps are swiftly and abruptly snatched in another direction.
The plans are melted in the heat of loss.
The steps turn us into a corridor that is void of any earthy plan. The
urge to create new plans is tossed by the fear of previous results.
So we are where we are because God has redirected our steps.
That is hard advice from a wise King.
It is hard when sermons and teachings bounce back up and hit you in the
jaw.
It is hard when the word that you taught, the toughness of faith that
you expected is now expected of yourself.
The steps that have been allowed to mirror my dreams are no longer.
They are crushed by the feet of the maker.
I find myself halted
Stopped,
My steps are not my own.
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2008 9:08 AM
Subject: Steps
The King is asked by the creator.
"Ask what you will and it will be granted to you"
The King doesn't think long, he knows what he wants. He says "Give me
wisdom"
The creator says "because of this request I will give you other gifts
that you have not asked for".
The most valuable gift was wisdom.
Wisdom is like a tool, we can choose to use it or not.
When we use it, it brings all the other gifts into our life.
When we exclude it, we exclude the other gifts.
Why would it be so important that a King would ask for it first?
Why would the creator place so much emphasis on it that the mere request
would spur the creator to additional generosity.
I find myself begging for wisdom, wishing for it. Needing it like my
life blood.
The King would later write "a man makes his plans but God directs his
steps"
When Allen would see life go in a direction other than he had planned I
would tell him "Son, God is in charge, he tells us that we can plan and
plan, we can push in our own direction but at the end of the day, God
directs our steps"
I can remember telling him that at his most disappointing times in life.
When he didn't get the call he expected.
When he didn't get the position,
When he didn't get the opportunity,
when he didn't get the favor that he thought he deserved.
When he had injuries, and on and on.
I always felt that God meant what the wise King Solomon wrote.
Our plans are subject to His directing our steps-
Now I am where my son was.
I had layers and layers of plans, layers and layers of opportunities for
Allen and Justin.
I had the road maps in my head, the vision was so clear. The plans were
fluid and subject to change based on the boys inclinations but they were
right in the middle of it all.
Now that stack of plans, the preparations for them, the mental, physical
and financial effort to see where it might go is wasted.
It reminds me of gearing up for a project. Drawings, equipment, real
estate, machinery, and all types of design is put forth.
Years of planning, nurturing, and caressing the plans. Hours, days and
weeks of training are lovingly poured in.
The adventure of a lifetime is before us.
And then "God changes the direction of our steps"
The steps sure turned from the plans, the vision, the security of our
dreams.
They don't allow time for modification.
The steps are swiftly and abruptly snatched in another direction.
The plans are melted in the heat of loss.
The steps turn us into a corridor that is void of any earthy plan. The
urge to create new plans is tossed by the fear of previous results.
So we are where we are because God has redirected our steps.
That is hard advice from a wise King.
It is hard when sermons and teachings bounce back up and hit you in the
jaw.
It is hard when the word that you taught, the toughness of faith that
you expected is now expected of yourself.
The steps that have been allowed to mirror my dreams are no longer.
They are crushed by the feet of the maker.
I find myself halted
Stopped,
My steps are not my own.
July 24, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2008 9:04 AM
Subject: Steer for a while
Lord,
Can you,
Can you hold me,
Can you dry my eyes
Can you give me rest
Can you sing to me
Can you whisper
Can you say my name
Can you protect me
Can you?
When my world spins
When everything is a tangled mess
When plans and dreams are shattered
When money has no value
When life no longer glistens
You are there, in the mess, in the storm, in the rain, in the busted
places,
I find myself lost,
Can you steer for a while?
G
Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2008 9:04 AM
Subject: Steer for a while
Lord,
Can you,
Can you hold me,
Can you dry my eyes
Can you give me rest
Can you sing to me
Can you whisper
Can you say my name
Can you protect me
Can you?
When my world spins
When everything is a tangled mess
When plans and dreams are shattered
When money has no value
When life no longer glistens
You are there, in the mess, in the storm, in the rain, in the busted
places,
I find myself lost,
Can you steer for a while?
G
July 23, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2008 9:12 AM
Subject: Can God?
What does God want?
What is the end of this episode.
Where is the road to His will.
When we are in the wilderness, where is the trail back.
Where is my compass, where is He drawing me.
I feel the war inside, it rages.
The man of old, the man of sin, the man of rebellion.
He is pushing on the coffin. The coffin of blood.
The Blood of the Prince, the Prince of peace.
That old enemy, that old rage, that old temper, that old wildness.
He has been buried, he has been subdued.
Now he arises, now we are fighting. He is beatable. The blood beat Him
before.
To what end is this event?
What am I to do?
I am but a dog. I lay at His feet.
Outside are wolves. Outside is hunger. Outside is cold,. Outside is
loneliness.
I must stay inside the camp.
I am at war with myself, it is a very real war. It has winners and it
has losers.
It has heroes and villains.
It has ambushes, battle plans, and it has casualties.
I fight for my very mind, the future of my soul.
I use the nuclear bomb,
I claim the blood, the blood of my Master, my redeemer, my Lord, my
maker.
It is always enough, the battle rages, the blood flows.
I cannot disengage, I can't rest, I can't resist the fight.
I wonder if this is my fate. The end of my days.
To lose my son, to lose my mind, to lose myself.
Will I find myself eating grass from a field. Will I awake years from
now and understand the order.
The order of His power.
The order of His authority.
The order of His requirements.
The order of His sacrifice.
The mystery of His love.
The mystery of this event.
The purpose for my life.
Can God reveal to me?
Can God speak to me?
Can God stop this battle?
Can He protect me?
Can He show up?
Can he take me home?
Can he?
G
Sent: Wednesday, July 23, 2008 9:12 AM
Subject: Can God?
What does God want?
What is the end of this episode.
Where is the road to His will.
When we are in the wilderness, where is the trail back.
Where is my compass, where is He drawing me.
I feel the war inside, it rages.
The man of old, the man of sin, the man of rebellion.
He is pushing on the coffin. The coffin of blood.
The Blood of the Prince, the Prince of peace.
That old enemy, that old rage, that old temper, that old wildness.
He has been buried, he has been subdued.
Now he arises, now we are fighting. He is beatable. The blood beat Him
before.
To what end is this event?
What am I to do?
I am but a dog. I lay at His feet.
Outside are wolves. Outside is hunger. Outside is cold,. Outside is
loneliness.
I must stay inside the camp.
I am at war with myself, it is a very real war. It has winners and it
has losers.
It has heroes and villains.
It has ambushes, battle plans, and it has casualties.
I fight for my very mind, the future of my soul.
I use the nuclear bomb,
I claim the blood, the blood of my Master, my redeemer, my Lord, my
maker.
It is always enough, the battle rages, the blood flows.
I cannot disengage, I can't rest, I can't resist the fight.
I wonder if this is my fate. The end of my days.
To lose my son, to lose my mind, to lose myself.
Will I find myself eating grass from a field. Will I awake years from
now and understand the order.
The order of His power.
The order of His authority.
The order of His requirements.
The order of His sacrifice.
The mystery of His love.
The mystery of this event.
The purpose for my life.
Can God reveal to me?
Can God speak to me?
Can God stop this battle?
Can He protect me?
Can He show up?
Can he take me home?
Can he?
G
July 21, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Monday, July 21, 2008 8:30 AM
Subject: No time
I see the scene
It is so grisly
It is so gruesome
It is so bloody
It is so unfair
It is so unneeded
Or is it?
I would have exchanged places.
I would have stood between the boys and the tree.
I would have bargained for more time.
I would have given all to just let them be.
I see the truck, twisting turning, it was constructed for men with men
inside.
It matters not the cause, the reason.
I watch in my minds eye at the roadway leads to the end of their life.
It is rough, they have no time, no time for a last "I love you"
No time for a "goodbye"
No time for thought, no time for prayer, no time for discussion.
No time,
As the grass withers so are the days of man.
As the vapor appears and vanishes, so is this life.
The vehicle tries to get back to the road,
No time
Allen tries to stop, tries to avoid the fate.
No time
The tree is there, air bags give up first.
No time
The next tree finishes the job
No time
Bark, metal, plastic, oil, fuel and blood they all mix.
No time,
The scene is tough, tough on young wives, tough on moms and dads,
Tough on plans, tough on dreams, tough on life.
No time
Their busted bodies lead to busted hearts.
The faces that once shined are now dim, the lips that once revealed a
beautiful smile are no more.
The eyes that could see right through, both green and blue, they see no
more.
The voices, oh how I miss the voices.
Now I have no time, no time to hear, to enjoy, to see,
I cannot miss them more, my depth of despair is complete.
I have found the bottom. I lay there. God, is here with me. If not...I
could not stand it.
His voice is my life line, my oxygen, my only way forward.
Nothing else is important now.
My dreams are burnt up, ambition discarded, cares are transformed.
My voice, it is His, my future is His. My life is His.
Doubt is like a shadow. It follows us all. Sneaking around trying to
cast a shade on the brightness of His Lordship.
I know the creator of doubt, he is my enemy.
Gary
Sent: Monday, July 21, 2008 8:30 AM
Subject: No time
I see the scene
It is so grisly
It is so gruesome
It is so bloody
It is so unfair
It is so unneeded
Or is it?
I would have exchanged places.
I would have stood between the boys and the tree.
I would have bargained for more time.
I would have given all to just let them be.
I see the truck, twisting turning, it was constructed for men with men
inside.
It matters not the cause, the reason.
I watch in my minds eye at the roadway leads to the end of their life.
It is rough, they have no time, no time for a last "I love you"
No time for a "goodbye"
No time for thought, no time for prayer, no time for discussion.
No time,
As the grass withers so are the days of man.
As the vapor appears and vanishes, so is this life.
The vehicle tries to get back to the road,
No time
Allen tries to stop, tries to avoid the fate.
No time
The tree is there, air bags give up first.
No time
The next tree finishes the job
No time
Bark, metal, plastic, oil, fuel and blood they all mix.
No time,
The scene is tough, tough on young wives, tough on moms and dads,
Tough on plans, tough on dreams, tough on life.
No time
Their busted bodies lead to busted hearts.
The faces that once shined are now dim, the lips that once revealed a
beautiful smile are no more.
The eyes that could see right through, both green and blue, they see no
more.
The voices, oh how I miss the voices.
Now I have no time, no time to hear, to enjoy, to see,
I cannot miss them more, my depth of despair is complete.
I have found the bottom. I lay there. God, is here with me. If not...I
could not stand it.
His voice is my life line, my oxygen, my only way forward.
Nothing else is important now.
My dreams are burnt up, ambition discarded, cares are transformed.
My voice, it is His, my future is His. My life is His.
Doubt is like a shadow. It follows us all. Sneaking around trying to
cast a shade on the brightness of His Lordship.
I know the creator of doubt, he is my enemy.
Gary
July 20, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 6:20 PM
Subject: Doubting West
I am secure, safe, happy, and satisfied.
I stand in time and watch out a portal at the events that have happened.
The fun, the sunny times, the holidays, the smiles.
The transformation of my life.
The life before,then the day of salvation.
The years of work, the feeling of accomplishment.
The finding of a wife, the cancer, the recovery.
The birth of children, the renewal of life.
The growth of maturity, the finding of God.
The courtships, the engagements.
The planning, the laughter.
The days of celebration, the nights of joy.
The friends, the family.
The weddings, the consummations of love.
The move toward God deepens, the move toward each other strengthens.
I feel so complete, so full.
I relish the days, I anticipate the nights.
Life is like a garden, buds everywhere.
Waiting, needing just a bit of time and then the most magnificent bloom.
Then, the unthinkable, the garden is shredded.
The blooms are discarded. Plans and dreams uprooted.
Then.....The portal, it is closed. I see darkness where once vivid
colors with the translucence of life moved on the screen of time.
I am shocked, dismayed, deboned, crushed and dismembered.
I stand in the corridor, I cry, I weep.
Then He is near...so near. He inhabits me. He assures me.
I feel Him wash through me, renewing me. Flushing me with His love.
I resist, I protest, surely this cannot be.
I love Him and He has forsaken me. I don't want His comfort. I want to
step back from Him and be alone.
He pursues me, He surrounds me. With His spirit he shows me that He is
God.
When he senses my doubt, He says "son, you are mine".
I say, "yes Lord I am yours. What happens now?". Where are the pictures
of my future?".
"The screen is dark, the players are gone. They are not alive anymore. I
am left a shell of what I once was. My life is as you make it".
He says "Gary, do you believe" I say "Yes"
"Do you really believe"
I say "yes but......"
He says "reach here", he lifts his arm
He shows me His side.
The gash is wide, the gash is deep.
He places my hand into the ragged cut.
He says "push your hand In".
I cannot.
He says, "reach".
I cannot
He gently pushes my hand in, I feel the vibration of the creators life
in my fingers and it pulses through my whole being.
I protest
He pushes me further still.
Then I sense and feel his heart as it expands and contracts.
He looks me in the eye, I cannot look back. I turn away.
I weep, I am so useless.
He says their hearts beats as mine. They are alive. The promise is true.
I sob, He comforts.
I rise and go on.
Gary
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 6:20 PM
Subject: Doubting West
I am secure, safe, happy, and satisfied.
I stand in time and watch out a portal at the events that have happened.
The fun, the sunny times, the holidays, the smiles.
The transformation of my life.
The life before,then the day of salvation.
The years of work, the feeling of accomplishment.
The finding of a wife, the cancer, the recovery.
The birth of children, the renewal of life.
The growth of maturity, the finding of God.
The courtships, the engagements.
The planning, the laughter.
The days of celebration, the nights of joy.
The friends, the family.
The weddings, the consummations of love.
The move toward God deepens, the move toward each other strengthens.
I feel so complete, so full.
I relish the days, I anticipate the nights.
Life is like a garden, buds everywhere.
Waiting, needing just a bit of time and then the most magnificent bloom.
Then, the unthinkable, the garden is shredded.
The blooms are discarded. Plans and dreams uprooted.
Then.....The portal, it is closed. I see darkness where once vivid
colors with the translucence of life moved on the screen of time.
I am shocked, dismayed, deboned, crushed and dismembered.
I stand in the corridor, I cry, I weep.
Then He is near...so near. He inhabits me. He assures me.
I feel Him wash through me, renewing me. Flushing me with His love.
I resist, I protest, surely this cannot be.
I love Him and He has forsaken me. I don't want His comfort. I want to
step back from Him and be alone.
He pursues me, He surrounds me. With His spirit he shows me that He is
God.
When he senses my doubt, He says "son, you are mine".
I say, "yes Lord I am yours. What happens now?". Where are the pictures
of my future?".
"The screen is dark, the players are gone. They are not alive anymore. I
am left a shell of what I once was. My life is as you make it".
He says "Gary, do you believe" I say "Yes"
"Do you really believe"
I say "yes but......"
He says "reach here", he lifts his arm
He shows me His side.
The gash is wide, the gash is deep.
He places my hand into the ragged cut.
He says "push your hand In".
I cannot.
He says, "reach".
I cannot
He gently pushes my hand in, I feel the vibration of the creators life
in my fingers and it pulses through my whole being.
I protest
He pushes me further still.
Then I sense and feel his heart as it expands and contracts.
He looks me in the eye, I cannot look back. I turn away.
I weep, I am so useless.
He says their hearts beats as mine. They are alive. The promise is true.
I sob, He comforts.
I rise and go on.
Gary
July 20, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 2:58 PM
Subject: Choices
Our whole American society is set up to make the most of our freedom of
choice.
We can choose to buy, sell, marry, divorce, charge more or less.
That is the beginning of a vast array of choices that we can make.
We can choose to move, or stay.
We can choose to work, or play.
We can choose to express ourselves or to remain silent.
We can choose to read and write or not.
We can choose from so many choices that others cannot.
The thing we can't do is choose the future, change the number of
our days, or change the past.
We are just like the other inhabitants of earth since the dawn of
time.
We are subject to the curse of death and the length of our days
are numbered by the maker.
We cannot surprise the maker, he is not caught off guard or
surprised at untimely death.
He is not set back at the duration of our life. He has predicted
the future. He knows the end. He was here before the dawn of time. When
time stops he will still exist.
Technology, medicine, food, energy, and all the science in the
world is subject to the old earth rules.
He is not.
The new earth will have new rules, the birth pains of its delivery,
the birth pains of our delivery from this life to the next is a pain
that is wrapped with anticipation.
My anticipation for the reunion in heaven is the only offset for
the loss.
The pain is great, the loss is tremendous. The contractions are
closer.
We experience the rebirth here in the spirit. We then will
experience the rebirth into new bodies, in a new earth.
That is a continuation of the transformation, the promise, the
power of the resurrection.
For now we are, and soon we will not be, then we will be forever
We are expended on the editing floor of time.
Time that has been foretold and is now unfolding in front of us.
Our lives are like scenes from a long movie, we are bit players as
the hero and villain play out the major act.
Our part may seem a choice but it has been scripted before our
birth. Each role has an alternate ending.
Heaven or Hell is the only choice we can really make. All other
choices are just play acting for the one decision that determines the
location of our continued existence.
"The choice"
Gary
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 2:58 PM
Subject: Choices
Our whole American society is set up to make the most of our freedom of
choice.
We can choose to buy, sell, marry, divorce, charge more or less.
That is the beginning of a vast array of choices that we can make.
We can choose to move, or stay.
We can choose to work, or play.
We can choose to express ourselves or to remain silent.
We can choose to read and write or not.
We can choose from so many choices that others cannot.
The thing we can't do is choose the future, change the number of
our days, or change the past.
We are just like the other inhabitants of earth since the dawn of
time.
We are subject to the curse of death and the length of our days
are numbered by the maker.
We cannot surprise the maker, he is not caught off guard or
surprised at untimely death.
He is not set back at the duration of our life. He has predicted
the future. He knows the end. He was here before the dawn of time. When
time stops he will still exist.
Technology, medicine, food, energy, and all the science in the
world is subject to the old earth rules.
He is not.
The new earth will have new rules, the birth pains of its delivery,
the birth pains of our delivery from this life to the next is a pain
that is wrapped with anticipation.
My anticipation for the reunion in heaven is the only offset for
the loss.
The pain is great, the loss is tremendous. The contractions are
closer.
We experience the rebirth here in the spirit. We then will
experience the rebirth into new bodies, in a new earth.
That is a continuation of the transformation, the promise, the
power of the resurrection.
For now we are, and soon we will not be, then we will be forever
We are expended on the editing floor of time.
Time that has been foretold and is now unfolding in front of us.
Our lives are like scenes from a long movie, we are bit players as
the hero and villain play out the major act.
Our part may seem a choice but it has been scripted before our
birth. Each role has an alternate ending.
Heaven or Hell is the only choice we can really make. All other
choices are just play acting for the one decision that determines the
location of our continued existence.
"The choice"
Gary
July 20, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 2:55 PM
To:
Subject: 5 gallon bucket (sat 7/19)
I was looking for a five gallon bucket to put my cast net into.
I spied one in the garage that was full of junk and decided to
clean it out.
I noticed it had some folded drawings in the top and I pulled them
out.
They were of the proposed subdivision and I knew immediately that
this was stuff from Allen's truck.
The drawings had a lot of blood on them.
They were probably on the dash. I guess it could have been either
of the boys.
The bucket had several personal items, a pocket knife, one that he
showed me when he bought it. A small new testament, a grooming kit. I
stopped before I could look at it all.
The crying is a thin representation of the deep sorrow that
circulates in my life now.
I can fake it for a while but seeing that blood on that particular
set of drawings was like a knife slicing me.
Just today I blessed our food and asked God to "keep our family
safe." I then looked at Benita and said "How many thousands of times
have I prayed that prayer? Meaning it every time"
We both cried in the restaurant.
When we pulled up to the mail box we had several cards in the box.
Benita made the statement "you are not just an average person"
I told her in tears that "All I have ever been is average. I would
give everything to have them back"
Then I walk in looking for a bucket.
The blood is the exclamation point for the finality of the loss.
I know that my life as I had it planned is wiped out. I can't
function properly. Sometimes I can't think at all.
As I encounter Allen's things, I see myself, my taste, my dreams,
my hopes, my family cut off.
I want to never forget but I can't constantly remember. I am stuck.
I ride along roads and see ball parks that we played in.
I ride along bay ways and rivers, remembering teaching him to fish
or steer the boat or trolling motor, bait and set a hook.
I look at the man toys that I have and wonder why? Why? Why?
I am so desperate for understanding and yet none is on the way.
I don't know what I am to learn from all this. I don't know what
the purpose is. I am confused at the logic. Confused at the method.
I am tired of the maze. I cannot find my way out.
I am sure that my life has a purpose...
What if that purpose is to endure loss and still be faithful.
Then that is what I do. Without fail, without falter I must please
Him.
Is that my talent, is that the one that he gave me, the talent of
endurance in pain.
I had thought myself of some more noble and grand example.
Now I find every day is an obstacle course set up by my enemy and
aided by the loss.
The loss allowed by my maker.
When Allen and Leslie would stray I had an example that I would use
to enforce my sermon.
I would ask them, "Do you know how special you are? Do you know
what a prized possession you are to God? You are like no one else on
earth. You alone can serve as only you can, your service to Him is
unique from all others.
I would then paint the picture of Satan holding them up in his
fist and shaking them at God saying " look what I've taken from you,
your most prized, your treasured, one that knew you and was raised for
you belongs to me now".. Laughing in Gods face as he tricks you into his
ways and away from God
I would tell them not to be the one that Satan uses to taunt God.
It would usually have the effect that the moment needed and they
would see the image of themselves in Satan's grasp, being used to harass
God.
Now the sermons are echoing back out of the box canyon of time.
They bring me comfort and despair at the same moment.
He is my Lord, if not in Him, who can we trust? Who can satisfy?
Who can fill me back up?
I can't let Satan use my reaction to taunt God. I must hang on.
G
Sent: Sunday, July 20, 2008 2:55 PM
To:
Subject: 5 gallon bucket (sat 7/19)
I was looking for a five gallon bucket to put my cast net into.
I spied one in the garage that was full of junk and decided to
clean it out.
I noticed it had some folded drawings in the top and I pulled them
out.
They were of the proposed subdivision and I knew immediately that
this was stuff from Allen's truck.
The drawings had a lot of blood on them.
They were probably on the dash. I guess it could have been either
of the boys.
The bucket had several personal items, a pocket knife, one that he
showed me when he bought it. A small new testament, a grooming kit. I
stopped before I could look at it all.
The crying is a thin representation of the deep sorrow that
circulates in my life now.
I can fake it for a while but seeing that blood on that particular
set of drawings was like a knife slicing me.
Just today I blessed our food and asked God to "keep our family
safe." I then looked at Benita and said "How many thousands of times
have I prayed that prayer? Meaning it every time"
We both cried in the restaurant.
When we pulled up to the mail box we had several cards in the box.
Benita made the statement "you are not just an average person"
I told her in tears that "All I have ever been is average. I would
give everything to have them back"
Then I walk in looking for a bucket.
The blood is the exclamation point for the finality of the loss.
I know that my life as I had it planned is wiped out. I can't
function properly. Sometimes I can't think at all.
As I encounter Allen's things, I see myself, my taste, my dreams,
my hopes, my family cut off.
I want to never forget but I can't constantly remember. I am stuck.
I ride along roads and see ball parks that we played in.
I ride along bay ways and rivers, remembering teaching him to fish
or steer the boat or trolling motor, bait and set a hook.
I look at the man toys that I have and wonder why? Why? Why?
I am so desperate for understanding and yet none is on the way.
I don't know what I am to learn from all this. I don't know what
the purpose is. I am confused at the logic. Confused at the method.
I am tired of the maze. I cannot find my way out.
I am sure that my life has a purpose...
What if that purpose is to endure loss and still be faithful.
Then that is what I do. Without fail, without falter I must please
Him.
Is that my talent, is that the one that he gave me, the talent of
endurance in pain.
I had thought myself of some more noble and grand example.
Now I find every day is an obstacle course set up by my enemy and
aided by the loss.
The loss allowed by my maker.
When Allen and Leslie would stray I had an example that I would use
to enforce my sermon.
I would ask them, "Do you know how special you are? Do you know
what a prized possession you are to God? You are like no one else on
earth. You alone can serve as only you can, your service to Him is
unique from all others.
I would then paint the picture of Satan holding them up in his
fist and shaking them at God saying " look what I've taken from you,
your most prized, your treasured, one that knew you and was raised for
you belongs to me now".. Laughing in Gods face as he tricks you into his
ways and away from God
I would tell them not to be the one that Satan uses to taunt God.
It would usually have the effect that the moment needed and they
would see the image of themselves in Satan's grasp, being used to harass
God.
Now the sermons are echoing back out of the box canyon of time.
They bring me comfort and despair at the same moment.
He is my Lord, if not in Him, who can we trust? Who can satisfy?
Who can fill me back up?
I can't let Satan use my reaction to taunt God. I must hang on.
G
July 17, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 17, 2008 7:04 AM
Subject: Hearts desire
Could it be that God knows me,
Knows me better than I know myself,
Could it be that he is giving me the desires of my heart?,
His word says "delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the
desires of your heart"
I used to tell Allen that a lot.
I told Him that it was a double edge sword.
If we truly delight ourselves in the Lord- He sometimes will change the
desires of our heart.
I would tell Allen when things didn't go as He planned. "Sell out to
God" he will make you happy.
I told Toby Morgan while we were hunting in BC that-if another Gary
existed, in another parallel universe. If that Gary had followed the
desires that I had before I submitted to God. He could not be as happy
or as content as I.
That my life was as good as it could be, I couldn't have followed my own
desires to the place that I found myself.
Now I am without and yet I still believe.
Does He know that the end of the story would have been so different,
(had they not died) that perhaps Allen and Justin wouldn't have made it.
He knows me so well, He knows that above all, I wanted them in Heaven.
No ifs, ands or buts. I wanted them to make it-period.
Dare I think it a compliment that He regards me enough to act in a
manner that ensures this?
That he holds my faith strong enough that I (along with the girls) can
stand the loss in this present life.
Stand it by faith, faith that is not like a water balloon, large but
dissolved at a small prick
But rather faith that is rock solid and rolls along even when battered.
I have found His Spirit in a more close manner than before. I don't want
to think that Allen and Justin are gone because they may have faltered
later.
Rather I like to think that they were found to have such hearts that God
needed them ahead of time. They did have good hearts.
The true measure of a man.
So my desires are fulfilled. They are safe on the shore. They have swam
the mote of death and we are still treading water.
But He is here, the breath of God is all over this event, this
aftermath. He is glorifying Himself in the middle of horror and
non-belief.
He is not letting the blood go uncontested. He is showing Himself
through the love and faith of His people.
Through the testimony of the new converts and the lives rededicated.
He has a plan, I wish He would share it, but it is above my pay grade.
Later
Gary
Sent: Thursday, July 17, 2008 7:04 AM
Subject: Hearts desire
Could it be that God knows me,
Knows me better than I know myself,
Could it be that he is giving me the desires of my heart?,
His word says "delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the
desires of your heart"
I used to tell Allen that a lot.
I told Him that it was a double edge sword.
If we truly delight ourselves in the Lord- He sometimes will change the
desires of our heart.
I would tell Allen when things didn't go as He planned. "Sell out to
God" he will make you happy.
I told Toby Morgan while we were hunting in BC that-if another Gary
existed, in another parallel universe. If that Gary had followed the
desires that I had before I submitted to God. He could not be as happy
or as content as I.
That my life was as good as it could be, I couldn't have followed my own
desires to the place that I found myself.
Now I am without and yet I still believe.
Does He know that the end of the story would have been so different,
(had they not died) that perhaps Allen and Justin wouldn't have made it.
He knows me so well, He knows that above all, I wanted them in Heaven.
No ifs, ands or buts. I wanted them to make it-period.
Dare I think it a compliment that He regards me enough to act in a
manner that ensures this?
That he holds my faith strong enough that I (along with the girls) can
stand the loss in this present life.
Stand it by faith, faith that is not like a water balloon, large but
dissolved at a small prick
But rather faith that is rock solid and rolls along even when battered.
I have found His Spirit in a more close manner than before. I don't want
to think that Allen and Justin are gone because they may have faltered
later.
Rather I like to think that they were found to have such hearts that God
needed them ahead of time. They did have good hearts.
The true measure of a man.
So my desires are fulfilled. They are safe on the shore. They have swam
the mote of death and we are still treading water.
But He is here, the breath of God is all over this event, this
aftermath. He is glorifying Himself in the middle of horror and
non-belief.
He is not letting the blood go uncontested. He is showing Himself
through the love and faith of His people.
Through the testimony of the new converts and the lives rededicated.
He has a plan, I wish He would share it, but it is above my pay grade.
Later
Gary
July 14, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Monday, July 14, 2008 11:19 PM
Subject: Love exposed
In the heavens above and beyond what we see.
Where the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords inhabits the third
heaven.
Where the God of the universe sees all and knows all.
Where he can stroll to the edge of time past, present and future.
Where he can see the events before they happen, the cause and
effect of every turn and every decision..
Where the plans are formulated, the costs calculated.
The plans for all of creation to be brought into alignment
. To be set back on course and unleashed from the curse.
The prodigal earth and the prodigal creation brought back by the
love exposed.
The exposure of such a love in such a manner that it would defy
the understanding and logic of the enemy.
The logic of a father exposing his love by forfeiting his Son. .
I know that by exposing that Love He hurt, He felt pain. He felt
great loss.
I can see all of creation standing still at such sacrifice.
At the uncovering of true love that defies all the norms, all the
selfish rules.
When that first understanding crossed the mind of the Father, the
deity of the Son and the power of the Spirit- what did heaven think?
I used to tell Allen that I didn't grasp the depth of Gods love
until he was born.
That Gods sacrifice of His Son to save others is beyond my
comprehension..
I told Allen that I just couldn't imagine giving him up for the
sake of others.
To offer his suffering, his life for others. Others that are
less-far less.
Now I taste the bitter taste of loss.
The realization that some have found Christ does make the episode
somewhat explainable..
I see that the mystery of death slices through the understanding of
mankind. That the lost exposes the pure love inside us.
I think God knew that we could not turn from such a love without a
glance, without a second thought.
I know that the threshold between where we are and where we will
be is not as important.
The mystery of death is somewhat revealed by the leadership of
Christ.
I hope that this episode, this chapter in the history of creation
also defies the logic of the enemy.
I hope that the love I have now and will always have is a light to
others.
That a life not worthy, not worthy of redemption, not worthy of
sacrifice is full of his exposed love.
That love sustains me, it reminds me of my son. It is the
continuation of the greatest romance-secured by the greatest gift.
The unmatched exchange of royal blood for common.
I want my life to have been a good exchange. It can never measure
up.
My love can never be a match for His.
But knowing that He gave me Allen, knowing He gave me Christ,
knowing He is waiting on me.
Waiting on me to expose the love that He has placed in me.
His love, for all to see. The unexplainable, undeniable,
mysterious, deep and complete love of the creator for the fallen
creature
His love for me.
A mystery.
Gary
Sent: Monday, July 14, 2008 11:19 PM
Subject: Love exposed
In the heavens above and beyond what we see.
Where the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords inhabits the third
heaven.
Where the God of the universe sees all and knows all.
Where he can stroll to the edge of time past, present and future.
Where he can see the events before they happen, the cause and
effect of every turn and every decision..
Where the plans are formulated, the costs calculated.
The plans for all of creation to be brought into alignment
. To be set back on course and unleashed from the curse.
The prodigal earth and the prodigal creation brought back by the
love exposed.
The exposure of such a love in such a manner that it would defy
the understanding and logic of the enemy.
The logic of a father exposing his love by forfeiting his Son. .
I know that by exposing that Love He hurt, He felt pain. He felt
great loss.
I can see all of creation standing still at such sacrifice.
At the uncovering of true love that defies all the norms, all the
selfish rules.
When that first understanding crossed the mind of the Father, the
deity of the Son and the power of the Spirit- what did heaven think?
I used to tell Allen that I didn't grasp the depth of Gods love
until he was born.
That Gods sacrifice of His Son to save others is beyond my
comprehension..
I told Allen that I just couldn't imagine giving him up for the
sake of others.
To offer his suffering, his life for others. Others that are
less-far less.
Now I taste the bitter taste of loss.
The realization that some have found Christ does make the episode
somewhat explainable..
I see that the mystery of death slices through the understanding of
mankind. That the lost exposes the pure love inside us.
I think God knew that we could not turn from such a love without a
glance, without a second thought.
I know that the threshold between where we are and where we will
be is not as important.
The mystery of death is somewhat revealed by the leadership of
Christ.
I hope that this episode, this chapter in the history of creation
also defies the logic of the enemy.
I hope that the love I have now and will always have is a light to
others.
That a life not worthy, not worthy of redemption, not worthy of
sacrifice is full of his exposed love.
That love sustains me, it reminds me of my son. It is the
continuation of the greatest romance-secured by the greatest gift.
The unmatched exchange of royal blood for common.
I want my life to have been a good exchange. It can never measure
up.
My love can never be a match for His.
But knowing that He gave me Allen, knowing He gave me Christ,
knowing He is waiting on me.
Waiting on me to expose the love that He has placed in me.
His love, for all to see. The unexplainable, undeniable,
mysterious, deep and complete love of the creator for the fallen
creature
His love for me.
A mystery.
Gary
July 14, 2009
rom: Gary West
Sent: Monday, July 14, 2008 6:25 AM
Subject: Matters most
When the day is done,
When this life is over
When the clock ticks the final second off.
When the twinkle in the eye dims and the heart exhaust the last beat,
When the blood stills, and the human mind stops its reasoning.
When the body that moved with grace, now moves no more.
When the arms strong and feet quick are stopped,
When hands that worked, caressed, wrote, and helped, no longer reach,
no longer hold.
When the ring finger has no help to put on the ring,
When the voice that said "I love you" echoes no longer.
When laughter as unique as a thumb print is silenced,
When the passion shown in this present form evaporates,
When the smiles are nothing but a memory.
When our skin ceases to feel, and our tongue doesn't taste any longer.
When we don't shiver in the cold or sweat in the heat.
When we don't flinch or grimace.
When we don't inhale or exhale.
When we are totally still.
When the heat that represents life, slowly ebbs away.
When we lie rigid and cold...
What matters most?
That God knows my name,
He knows my struggles,
He knows my heart,
He knows I am His.
That is what matters most!
In that moment, in that day, either by flight or by grave.
That He calls your name, that he clocks you in,
What will you say to Him?
Will you finish the conversation from this morning?
Or will you have to be introduced to the all powerful, supreme being of
the universe as if He didn't know you?
Will we bow down and worship our maker as we have so many times?
Or will He humble us for the first time in our lives.
For every knee shall bow and every tongue confess.
I bow now
I confess now
I humble myself now
gAw
Sent: Monday, July 14, 2008 6:25 AM
Subject: Matters most
When the day is done,
When this life is over
When the clock ticks the final second off.
When the twinkle in the eye dims and the heart exhaust the last beat,
When the blood stills, and the human mind stops its reasoning.
When the body that moved with grace, now moves no more.
When the arms strong and feet quick are stopped,
When hands that worked, caressed, wrote, and helped, no longer reach,
no longer hold.
When the ring finger has no help to put on the ring,
When the voice that said "I love you" echoes no longer.
When laughter as unique as a thumb print is silenced,
When the passion shown in this present form evaporates,
When the smiles are nothing but a memory.
When our skin ceases to feel, and our tongue doesn't taste any longer.
When we don't shiver in the cold or sweat in the heat.
When we don't flinch or grimace.
When we don't inhale or exhale.
When we are totally still.
When the heat that represents life, slowly ebbs away.
When we lie rigid and cold...
What matters most?
That God knows my name,
He knows my struggles,
He knows my heart,
He knows I am His.
That is what matters most!
In that moment, in that day, either by flight or by grave.
That He calls your name, that he clocks you in,
What will you say to Him?
Will you finish the conversation from this morning?
Or will you have to be introduced to the all powerful, supreme being of
the universe as if He didn't know you?
Will we bow down and worship our maker as we have so many times?
Or will He humble us for the first time in our lives.
For every knee shall bow and every tongue confess.
I bow now
I confess now
I humble myself now
gAw
July 12, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Saturday, July 12, 2008 5:41 AM
Subject: Loneliness
I have always said that there is a hollow spot in the soul and mind of
man.
A hollow spot that only God can fill. A peculiar shaped emptiness
that is so shaped that the space is dynamic, moving, changing and yet
always the same.
It is designed for the unchanging but very alive presence of the
creator.
The spirit that inhabits the eternal future of us all.
The fluid motion of Gods Spirit is reflected in the heart of every
man. He is constantly working to bring us back to Himself. He is talking
to us, he is wooing us.
He is the perfect fit for the void, the only fit.
Shove as we might the attributes and desires of this life, nothing
comes close to the perfect alignment, the perfect meshing of our void
and his spirit.
I am extremely lonely right now. I miss my boy. I can't imagine a
deeper void, a deeper cut, a deeper emptiness.
But...I have the void filler, the one true, living, breathing, all
powerful, majestic, beautiful, and loving God inside me.
I love Him so.
When Benita lost her lung in 92 they said that the other lung would
increase and that the body would adapt and fill in the space where the
lung was taken.
She is fine and the normal person on the street would never know
she was operating on one lung. The body was designed to work with just
one. The other was a spare. She survived because the creator designed
her body to make it with half a pair.
My Son and I were a pair for so many years. I could almost read his
mind, and he mine.
Now I walk without him, I breathe without him, I dream without him,
I plan without him, I miss him.
It is like losing part of yourself. A separate but connected part
of your being. A closeness that was there is no longer. A voice, ears, a
mind, a laugh, a twinkle in the eye. He was me and so much better. I
feel like I have awakened and they amputated a part of me.
I say " don't you know that I would rather have not made it?"
It is so strange, like my life is new. Like it has lost the map
home. When I try to coordinate my thoughts they keep getting disrupted
by the missing parts.
And then I pray, and then I relax in the grip of His Spirit. Then
He becomes that missing part. At least for a while He pushes out the
loneliness and helps me overcome the missing half.
I walk away from the empty chamber in my heart where all of Allen's
memories reside. I think of Him in heaven, on the great adventure.
And then I allow God His spot, the one that is designed only for
Him. When He is in that spot the whole place is full. No voids, no
emptiness. No busted memories, no failed plans. He takes the whole and
sometimes small life that we give Him.
And then like the loaves and fishes He begins to multiply.
Every time he tears off a piece another appears. And he keeps providing
till the appetite is filled and the surplus is realized.
I walk into my mind and heart late at night and all I see is tons
of memories, live footage of Allen when he was a baby, a toddler, a
small boy, an adolescent, a teenager, a college student, a man, a
husband. A son that his dad loved completely.
It is a chamber in me that is brimming over with thousands if not
millions of still shots and action photos. It is the place of morning
and yet I can cope. only because the adjoining room, the next chamber over
is Gods.
His chamber is a connecting room to all the others It is large, it
is dominant..
So when I have Him in His place. When I allow and prepare His
dwelling place. He can open the doors to the adjoining chambers in my
thoughts, and heart. He can flow and fill. He is the one that we're
designed to live with, and not without.
I am thankful that he is in me. He is the difference maker. He
knows what I need before I ask....
Gaw
Sent: Saturday, July 12, 2008 5:41 AM
Subject: Loneliness
I have always said that there is a hollow spot in the soul and mind of
man.
A hollow spot that only God can fill. A peculiar shaped emptiness
that is so shaped that the space is dynamic, moving, changing and yet
always the same.
It is designed for the unchanging but very alive presence of the
creator.
The spirit that inhabits the eternal future of us all.
The fluid motion of Gods Spirit is reflected in the heart of every
man. He is constantly working to bring us back to Himself. He is talking
to us, he is wooing us.
He is the perfect fit for the void, the only fit.
Shove as we might the attributes and desires of this life, nothing
comes close to the perfect alignment, the perfect meshing of our void
and his spirit.
I am extremely lonely right now. I miss my boy. I can't imagine a
deeper void, a deeper cut, a deeper emptiness.
But...I have the void filler, the one true, living, breathing, all
powerful, majestic, beautiful, and loving God inside me.
I love Him so.
When Benita lost her lung in 92 they said that the other lung would
increase and that the body would adapt and fill in the space where the
lung was taken.
She is fine and the normal person on the street would never know
she was operating on one lung. The body was designed to work with just
one. The other was a spare. She survived because the creator designed
her body to make it with half a pair.
My Son and I were a pair for so many years. I could almost read his
mind, and he mine.
Now I walk without him, I breathe without him, I dream without him,
I plan without him, I miss him.
It is like losing part of yourself. A separate but connected part
of your being. A closeness that was there is no longer. A voice, ears, a
mind, a laugh, a twinkle in the eye. He was me and so much better. I
feel like I have awakened and they amputated a part of me.
I say " don't you know that I would rather have not made it?"
It is so strange, like my life is new. Like it has lost the map
home. When I try to coordinate my thoughts they keep getting disrupted
by the missing parts.
And then I pray, and then I relax in the grip of His Spirit. Then
He becomes that missing part. At least for a while He pushes out the
loneliness and helps me overcome the missing half.
I walk away from the empty chamber in my heart where all of Allen's
memories reside. I think of Him in heaven, on the great adventure.
And then I allow God His spot, the one that is designed only for
Him. When He is in that spot the whole place is full. No voids, no
emptiness. No busted memories, no failed plans. He takes the whole and
sometimes small life that we give Him.
And then like the loaves and fishes He begins to multiply.
Every time he tears off a piece another appears. And he keeps providing
till the appetite is filled and the surplus is realized.
I walk into my mind and heart late at night and all I see is tons
of memories, live footage of Allen when he was a baby, a toddler, a
small boy, an adolescent, a teenager, a college student, a man, a
husband. A son that his dad loved completely.
It is a chamber in me that is brimming over with thousands if not
millions of still shots and action photos. It is the place of morning
and yet I can cope. only because the adjoining room, the next chamber over
is Gods.
His chamber is a connecting room to all the others It is large, it
is dominant..
So when I have Him in His place. When I allow and prepare His
dwelling place. He can open the doors to the adjoining chambers in my
thoughts, and heart. He can flow and fill. He is the one that we're
designed to live with, and not without.
I am thankful that he is in me. He is the difference maker. He
knows what I need before I ask....
Gaw
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
July 10, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 10, 2008 9:35 AM
Subject: Heaven's clap
I don't know what the Guys are doing today.
I don't know if they are resting, or discovering the vastness of Gods
creation.
I think that based on my knowledge of them and my imagination, they
are on the move. Since Jesus is ever present. Since the Trinity is
everywhere, in every believer at the same time. He is present with them.
I have a view of them that is so real, so much what my heart and
mind envisions.
They are climbing trails, young and strong, the sound of their
favorite music echoes over and around the mountain peaks, they are able
to climb without shortness of breath. The are laughing, there are
reminiscing. They are asking a thousand questions without opening their
mouth, without saying a word. As fast a they ask, the answer is
apparent. It is given instantly. Like a father tending to a new born,
like a mother feeding an infant they are tended to.
They are moving up without a slip, without a stumble they climb on.
They round a spot in the trail and sit atop a high summit.
They are stunned by the view, not surprised. They have been there
long enough that nothing is a surprise. They smile, and in the distance
is the heavenly city. The new capital of the universe. Waiting to go to
the new earth.
They are training to ride, ride with the Christ. To take back the
earth from the dark one. They are up for the adventure. They are
anxiously awaiting that time. They look over the expanse of the view and
the sound of music ceases for a moment.
They look at each other and smile the deepest smile possible for
they know what is next. The silence in heaven always is a prelude to the
sound that they love the most.
They have heard it often. They have noticed that when this silence
occurs the energy in heaven is dialed up. The electricity is turned to
max. The silence is flowed by the bright glow from the heavenly city.
And then the shouts of millions, the clap of lifted hands. The claps and
shout rolls across the hills and valleys, it make the trees shudder, it
pushes a shock wave ahead of it. It brings a crystal beam of light that
radiates like the best light show ever imagined, times a million.
The first time this happened they immediately wondered what was
going on. They had no sooner thought about it, and the answer was
given, they could see the event, like a close up camera they could see
the stadium in heaven around the throne, in the new heaven. they
realized a sinner had come home, the angels celebrated with the energy
of all the last minute world series or super bowl wins. All the heroics
of all time were celebrated anew.
They were uninhibited, it was loud, it was exciting, it had no match
in anything they had seen or heard.
So as they explored the universe, as they trained for the battle to
come. They could stop and smile when they heard the silence. They knew,
they knew someone had come home. If because of them, a glow would appear
on their skin and a gold thread would weave its way around their head,
forming the outline of a heavenly sweatband. They laughed and gave each
other a special handshake they had learned on earth.
The free spirit that God had given them was now unfettered, they
were free, they were truly free.
The chains of the old earth and the fallen creation are removed.
They sit and smile. Knowing they have much to learn, much to see, much
to do.
Sent: Thursday, July 10, 2008 9:35 AM
Subject: Heaven's clap
I don't know what the Guys are doing today.
I don't know if they are resting, or discovering the vastness of Gods
creation.
I think that based on my knowledge of them and my imagination, they
are on the move. Since Jesus is ever present. Since the Trinity is
everywhere, in every believer at the same time. He is present with them.
I have a view of them that is so real, so much what my heart and
mind envisions.
They are climbing trails, young and strong, the sound of their
favorite music echoes over and around the mountain peaks, they are able
to climb without shortness of breath. The are laughing, there are
reminiscing. They are asking a thousand questions without opening their
mouth, without saying a word. As fast a they ask, the answer is
apparent. It is given instantly. Like a father tending to a new born,
like a mother feeding an infant they are tended to.
They are moving up without a slip, without a stumble they climb on.
They round a spot in the trail and sit atop a high summit.
They are stunned by the view, not surprised. They have been there
long enough that nothing is a surprise. They smile, and in the distance
is the heavenly city. The new capital of the universe. Waiting to go to
the new earth.
They are training to ride, ride with the Christ. To take back the
earth from the dark one. They are up for the adventure. They are
anxiously awaiting that time. They look over the expanse of the view and
the sound of music ceases for a moment.
They look at each other and smile the deepest smile possible for
they know what is next. The silence in heaven always is a prelude to the
sound that they love the most.
They have heard it often. They have noticed that when this silence
occurs the energy in heaven is dialed up. The electricity is turned to
max. The silence is flowed by the bright glow from the heavenly city.
And then the shouts of millions, the clap of lifted hands. The claps and
shout rolls across the hills and valleys, it make the trees shudder, it
pushes a shock wave ahead of it. It brings a crystal beam of light that
radiates like the best light show ever imagined, times a million.
The first time this happened they immediately wondered what was
going on. They had no sooner thought about it, and the answer was
given, they could see the event, like a close up camera they could see
the stadium in heaven around the throne, in the new heaven. they
realized a sinner had come home, the angels celebrated with the energy
of all the last minute world series or super bowl wins. All the heroics
of all time were celebrated anew.
They were uninhibited, it was loud, it was exciting, it had no match
in anything they had seen or heard.
So as they explored the universe, as they trained for the battle to
come. They could stop and smile when they heard the silence. They knew,
they knew someone had come home. If because of them, a glow would appear
on their skin and a gold thread would weave its way around their head,
forming the outline of a heavenly sweatband. They laughed and gave each
other a special handshake they had learned on earth.
The free spirit that God had given them was now unfettered, they
were free, they were truly free.
The chains of the old earth and the fallen creation are removed.
They sit and smile. Knowing they have much to learn, much to see, much
to do.
July 9, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 09, 2008 8:34 PM
Subject: Musicl
Music is the only relief,
It draws Him down from above,
He settles me, he calms me, he whispers, he inspires me.
The notes, the praise, the words.
I shower and swim in them.
They cleanse me. I sit and let the spirit flood over me, flushing out
the sorrow...
The voices say to Him what my spirit feels, I join in, poor notes born
in a heart that is ragged and beaten.
War torn sounds, off pitch and flat they reach the ears of the creator.
He undoubtedly smiles and listens to the efforts.
He is aware of my every hair, my every tear, my every action, my effort
is not in vain.
He knows my heart, He knows that no song is more beautiful than the song
of the heart.
He makes my heart sing, he pours his spirit in and out bubbles praise.
Out boils the fear, the sadness, the doubt, the anger.
In flows the sweetness, the love, the calm, the deep satisfaction that
only His can send.
It flows deep, it flows strong, it fills.
It changes the color of my mind, it changes my personality, it makes me
His.
Lord, let the music play, pour the spirit in, let my heart sing.
Sent: Wednesday, July 09, 2008 8:34 PM
Subject: Musicl
Music is the only relief,
It draws Him down from above,
He settles me, he calms me, he whispers, he inspires me.
The notes, the praise, the words.
I shower and swim in them.
They cleanse me. I sit and let the spirit flood over me, flushing out
the sorrow...
The voices say to Him what my spirit feels, I join in, poor notes born
in a heart that is ragged and beaten.
War torn sounds, off pitch and flat they reach the ears of the creator.
He undoubtedly smiles and listens to the efforts.
He is aware of my every hair, my every tear, my every action, my effort
is not in vain.
He knows my heart, He knows that no song is more beautiful than the song
of the heart.
He makes my heart sing, he pours his spirit in and out bubbles praise.
Out boils the fear, the sadness, the doubt, the anger.
In flows the sweetness, the love, the calm, the deep satisfaction that
only His can send.
It flows deep, it flows strong, it fills.
It changes the color of my mind, it changes my personality, it makes me
His.
Lord, let the music play, pour the spirit in, let my heart sing.
July 5, 2008
I wrote this in walmart lot this a.m.Kinda puts my today in perspective.GFrom: Gary WestSent: Sat Jul 05 07:52:35 2008Subject: Bitter SweetActions lead to memories,Memories lead to tears,Tears lead to thoughts,Thoughts lead to anger,Anger leads to questions,Questions lead to prayer,Prayer goes unanswered,Unanswered prayers shake us,Shaking leads to searching,Searching pulls at our very roots, our foundation and leads to a faith check,A check of our faith leads us right back to memories,Memories of song, scripture, and His word.There we rest until our next action.At times the emotion is so strong the miss is so incredible that I am shot down, my ability to take my next action is stopped. Then I stop and write. I expell the thoughts to words. There I temporarily leave them. I push them from my brain to my fingers. I make them leave. I refuse to let my life be a pile of nothing. I don't know why I have to go through this. I wonder if it is because I have always assumed a position of strength. Perhaps God decided to cut me down for feeling strong in him. I don't feel strong in Him right now. I feel vulnerable. I feel that I have been left between the foxholes. I lay in no mans land in the middle of the spiritual battlefield.I am sniped from both sides. I am shot full of holes. Holes of doubt, doubt in everything that I have ever believed. The very mind of God is strange to me now. I know Satan hates me, that is a given. I have accepted that for a while. Now I seam without. Without a hook on the end of my rope. I try to pull myself out of this pit but the rope keeps slapping me in the face as it comes back on me. I can't find happiness, she is elusive. Smiles are but makeup for a disfigured life. I tire of this road. A road full of memories that are like pot holes of pain. As I hit them, the pain splashes all over me. I have to push past this road. I have to stand in Gods shelter and let him use His blood to shower this pain off of me. The pain, It is like acid, it burns and etches the faces of a thousand smiles into me like tatoos. I am naked to the burn. I have no protection. I wish this was a human foe. I could strike, choke, bite and claw. The pain I feel, I could somehow return. But this is not the case. I am laying out of protection now, being sniped with precision. One cell, one memory, one plan, one dream, one happy thought at a time. I have always controlled all that I could, especially since I submitted to His hand. Now I control nothing. I am unable to express my will at anything except what he directly lays on my heart. I want to be normal, but I know that normal of the future will never look like normal of the past. That is a fact that is yet another pothole of pain in this road of understanding.G
July 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:25 PM
Subject: Inside out
Lord,
You pull me .....inside out
Your hand reaches in
You pull me....inside out
You shake me
You pull me ....inside out
What was in, is now out
You pull me ....inside out
Dreams and plans they fall away
You pull me.....inside out
Now only the fabric remains
You pull me...inside out
But you are the fabric
You pull me...inside out
When all else is gone
You pull me...inside out
You are all that remains
You are all that matters
You are all I have
You are all I want
You are all I need
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:25 PM
Subject: Inside out
Lord,
You pull me .....inside out
Your hand reaches in
You pull me....inside out
You shake me
You pull me ....inside out
What was in, is now out
You pull me ....inside out
Dreams and plans they fall away
You pull me.....inside out
Now only the fabric remains
You pull me...inside out
But you are the fabric
You pull me...inside out
When all else is gone
You pull me...inside out
You are all that remains
You are all that matters
You are all I have
You are all I want
You are all I need
July 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:18 PM
Subject: When dreams die
When dreams die,
And the pain is deep, the shadow long.
When dreams die and hope runs dry as plans expire.
When dreams die and memories fall as tears till all light is gone.
He is here
In the whisper of His voice, in the caress of His people
He is here
In the power of his name and the movement of His spirit
He is here
I need Him.....here
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:18 PM
Subject: When dreams die
When dreams die,
And the pain is deep, the shadow long.
When dreams die and hope runs dry as plans expire.
When dreams die and memories fall as tears till all light is gone.
He is here
In the whisper of His voice, in the caress of His people
He is here
In the power of his name and the movement of His spirit
He is here
I need Him.....here
July 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 7:39 AM
Subject: AU
I pull up and watch my brown eyed wonder walk out to the truck.
She leans in the window and we both begin to sob.
She said "I was doing good till you drove up"
Leslie is the real thing.
In a world of fake and fashion she is true blue.
I know that God has a plan. My pain and my loss are deep, Leslie’s
is yet deeper.
She cries and packs, remembers the love. Remembers the 11 weeks of
marriage to her one love. The three and one half years of courtship.
I too cry, he was exactly what I had hoped she would marry. Now we
get a grip for the sake of others and move ahead.
We work as if a time bomb was set to go off. Then hours later, she
steps up into my truck and we cry as I slowly pull away from her former
home. The home that represents her great loss. Her absolute love. Her
other half
Her plans and future were talked over and discussed there. She loved
him. Many men will never know a love from a woman like she had for
Justin.
And yet we see so much evidence of his great love for her. It was
written in his life and on everything he did. Every plan he had, and in
hundreds of pictures.
In the way he honored her. He slept on the floor at his buddies
apartment from early January till the wedding in March.
He didn't want to soil Leslie’s reputation or put pressure on her.
That sacrifice was representative of how Justin loved Leslie. He
wanted her to be as strong a Christian as she could be. For that I loved
him.
I think God feels the same way when we allow people with honor,
people with deep faith and people with deep commitment to not be pulled
down by our personal desires. I believe that he loves us for allowing
the faithful to be just that.
Theirs is a true love story. She loves him still. I told her
yesterday that I know that I will cry every day for the rest of my life.
I am without remedy.
She couldn't hardly talk because of her tears but she told me "dad,
I am just mad, we were so happy". I grabbed her hand and started to
pray.
I prayed to God, knowing that His hand was in the middle of this
episode, knowing that He could have prevented it. Knowing that He is in
charge of it all. I prayed anyway.
She seemed to calm some. I seemed to melt further. It was as if the
cut was made brand new by the tears, the tremendous grief, the depth of
the loss.
It was so new that my emotions snapped and for a while I sobbed
like she. I am a mess when it overtakes me like that. Yesterday found me
in waves of tears, waves of loss, tossed about by emotions, like a leaf
in a hurricane. Unable to get a grip, unable to have a say in the
direction that I was swept.
She calms me now. I start instructing her to be patient, to wait on
God in this episode. I tell her that He will not leave this story with
this ending. That He will not allow this to be permanent. That he has a
plan, if we can just wait.....
We talk about heaven, Allen and Justin and cry some more. She
tells me that Carmen (in my office) always told her she was living a
fairy tale. That her whole life and all the parts were like a fairly
tale to others. Now that is gone. Leslie and I wonder to what end.
We talk about people getting saved, people already sliding back.
She is furious that salvation is tossed back so easily. Like a soda can
it is thrown out so flippantly. She says that she is having a hard time
not telling people "How she really feels"
I think "Oh Lord"
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 7:39 AM
Subject: AU
I pull up and watch my brown eyed wonder walk out to the truck.
She leans in the window and we both begin to sob.
She said "I was doing good till you drove up"
Leslie is the real thing.
In a world of fake and fashion she is true blue.
I know that God has a plan. My pain and my loss are deep, Leslie’s
is yet deeper.
She cries and packs, remembers the love. Remembers the 11 weeks of
marriage to her one love. The three and one half years of courtship.
I too cry, he was exactly what I had hoped she would marry. Now we
get a grip for the sake of others and move ahead.
We work as if a time bomb was set to go off. Then hours later, she
steps up into my truck and we cry as I slowly pull away from her former
home. The home that represents her great loss. Her absolute love. Her
other half
Her plans and future were talked over and discussed there. She loved
him. Many men will never know a love from a woman like she had for
Justin.
And yet we see so much evidence of his great love for her. It was
written in his life and on everything he did. Every plan he had, and in
hundreds of pictures.
In the way he honored her. He slept on the floor at his buddies
apartment from early January till the wedding in March.
He didn't want to soil Leslie’s reputation or put pressure on her.
That sacrifice was representative of how Justin loved Leslie. He
wanted her to be as strong a Christian as she could be. For that I loved
him.
I think God feels the same way when we allow people with honor,
people with deep faith and people with deep commitment to not be pulled
down by our personal desires. I believe that he loves us for allowing
the faithful to be just that.
Theirs is a true love story. She loves him still. I told her
yesterday that I know that I will cry every day for the rest of my life.
I am without remedy.
She couldn't hardly talk because of her tears but she told me "dad,
I am just mad, we were so happy". I grabbed her hand and started to
pray.
I prayed to God, knowing that His hand was in the middle of this
episode, knowing that He could have prevented it. Knowing that He is in
charge of it all. I prayed anyway.
She seemed to calm some. I seemed to melt further. It was as if the
cut was made brand new by the tears, the tremendous grief, the depth of
the loss.
It was so new that my emotions snapped and for a while I sobbed
like she. I am a mess when it overtakes me like that. Yesterday found me
in waves of tears, waves of loss, tossed about by emotions, like a leaf
in a hurricane. Unable to get a grip, unable to have a say in the
direction that I was swept.
She calms me now. I start instructing her to be patient, to wait on
God in this episode. I tell her that He will not leave this story with
this ending. That He will not allow this to be permanent. That he has a
plan, if we can just wait.....
We talk about heaven, Allen and Justin and cry some more. She
tells me that Carmen (in my office) always told her she was living a
fairy tale. That her whole life and all the parts were like a fairly
tale to others. Now that is gone. Leslie and I wonder to what end.
We talk about people getting saved, people already sliding back.
She is furious that salvation is tossed back so easily. Like a soda can
it is thrown out so flippantly. She says that she is having a hard time
not telling people "How she really feels"
I think "Oh Lord"
July 3, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:18 PM
Subject: Strong
Lord,
You elevate the low to confound the wise.
You require much where much is given.
You bring tears to mighty men.
You give the blessings and you take life..
You hold the keys, keys to the kingdom and keys to the grave.
In you we have breath, in you we live.
We are strangers here, on a mission, in Alien land.
Our mission is to return, return to your hand.
Lord, we serve, our strength is yours, our hearts are yours, our lives
are yours.
You are strong,
G
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 1:18 PM
Subject: Strong
Lord,
You elevate the low to confound the wise.
You require much where much is given.
You bring tears to mighty men.
You give the blessings and you take life..
You hold the keys, keys to the kingdom and keys to the grave.
In you we have breath, in you we live.
We are strangers here, on a mission, in Alien land.
Our mission is to return, return to your hand.
Lord, we serve, our strength is yours, our hearts are yours, our lives
are yours.
You are strong,
G
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 3:31 PM
Subject: Not me
Not me,
When pain comes
Not me
When storms roll in
Not me
When others need strength
Not me
When it is time to lead
Not me
Not me
Not me
Only you lord,
Only your breath,
Only your warmth
Only your might
Only your voice
Only you Lord
Only you
Only you
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 3:31 PM
Subject: Not me
Not me,
When pain comes
Not me
When storms roll in
Not me
When others need strength
Not me
When it is time to lead
Not me
Not me
Not me
Only you lord,
Only your breath,
Only your warmth
Only your might
Only your voice
Only you Lord
Only you
Only you
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 3:05 PM
Subject: Today
When daybreak is a ways off.
When the night is darkest
When we are empty, down and lost.
He waits
In the cool of the night he lingers and listens.
He is there, he is whispering our name.
My love,
My child
My son
My daughter
I love you,
When life is full of noise,
In broad daylight
When we are too busy too listen or care
When life drowns out our spirit.
He is there whispering our name
My love
My child
My son
My daughter
I love you
I love you
I love you
A thousand times a second
His still small voice says....
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 3:05 PM
Subject: Today
When daybreak is a ways off.
When the night is darkest
When we are empty, down and lost.
He waits
In the cool of the night he lingers and listens.
He is there, he is whispering our name.
My love,
My child
My son
My daughter
I love you,
When life is full of noise,
In broad daylight
When we are too busy too listen or care
When life drowns out our spirit.
He is there whispering our name
My love
My child
My son
My daughter
I love you
I love you
I love you
A thousand times a second
His still small voice says....
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 2:21 PM
To:
Subject:
When shadows come
When darkness gathers
He is near
When tears flow
When hearts break
He is near
When weakness turns to strength
he is near
when his blood is needed
He is near
Lord be near,
Catch my tears
Repair my heart
Be my strength
Cover me
Shine lord shine
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 2:21 PM
To:
Subject:
When shadows come
When darkness gathers
He is near
When tears flow
When hearts break
He is near
When weakness turns to strength
he is near
when his blood is needed
He is near
Lord be near,
Catch my tears
Repair my heart
Be my strength
Cover me
Shine lord shine
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:57 PM
Subject: Sounds
Where are the sounds?
The sounds of happiness,
The sounds of his power,
The sounds of strength,
The sounds of security,
They are here,
Here in my heart,
Here from the very start,
Here from his first words
Here from my first breath
I give them back, fast and slow I give them back.
My heart is yours Lord, play it as you will.
Play it as you will.
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:57 PM
Subject: Sounds
Where are the sounds?
The sounds of happiness,
The sounds of his power,
The sounds of strength,
The sounds of security,
They are here,
Here in my heart,
Here from the very start,
Here from his first words
Here from my first breath
I give them back, fast and slow I give them back.
My heart is yours Lord, play it as you will.
Play it as you will.
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:48 PM
Subject: Journey
You were the product of prayer.
A gift of life in a time of desire.
You brought love and smiles.
You would jump and climb.
You would grin and plunder.
You could run and cut a trail.
You won many, you lost few.
You grew fast, tall and strong.
You fought many battles, and faced many tempters.
You found love and drew love.
You could praise, you could sing.
You could make a tear or share a laugh.
You were my friend, you helped make my life.
You were big, you took the air up in a room.
You are missed, I hope to see you soon.
Enjoy the journey!!
Love
Dad
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:48 PM
Subject: Journey
You were the product of prayer.
A gift of life in a time of desire.
You brought love and smiles.
You would jump and climb.
You would grin and plunder.
You could run and cut a trail.
You won many, you lost few.
You grew fast, tall and strong.
You fought many battles, and faced many tempters.
You found love and drew love.
You could praise, you could sing.
You could make a tear or share a laugh.
You were my friend, you helped make my life.
You were big, you took the air up in a room.
You are missed, I hope to see you soon.
Enjoy the journey!!
Love
Dad
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:15 PM
Subject: Praise
To God,
Just in case you doubt-I love you.
I haven't forgotten who you are.
I know you well,
You know me better.
Better than I know myself.
My heart is full of you,
I ask that the spirit break the vessel around your love and let it flow
into every cell and thought.
Step into the fight,
my arms are tired.
My wind is gone.
You are my only hope, my only way.
Your power, your blood, they flow each day.
Regardless, I love you,
Regardless, I follow you.
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 1:15 PM
Subject: Praise
To God,
Just in case you doubt-I love you.
I haven't forgotten who you are.
I know you well,
You know me better.
Better than I know myself.
My heart is full of you,
I ask that the spirit break the vessel around your love and let it flow
into every cell and thought.
Step into the fight,
my arms are tired.
My wind is gone.
You are my only hope, my only way.
Your power, your blood, they flow each day.
Regardless, I love you,
Regardless, I follow you.
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 10:51 AM
Subject: The Bow
I have always thought of myself as an instrument.
An instrument of war. A blade or perhaps an arrow. To be used to slice
or penetrate the enemy. To be used up in this battle between good and
evil.
I thought of myself like gun powder or diesel, a supply to be used.
A consumable in this fight.
I have tried to stay in His grip so that my use would be for His
purpose.
The blade is better when sharp. The arrow is better when straight.
I am not sharp or straight now.
Can the maker that allowed a jaw bone to slay a thousand, use me?
Is the qualification for use determined by the deepest scars?
Am I to crawl up his garments and out on his arm. Am I to lay out
on His bow and be extinguished in the flight. Shattered against His
enemy.
Never to be used again. Broken off in the body of the evil one.
Does my seed share my use? Is this where they are? Slung into the beast
that steals, kills and destroys.
I know we have purpose, I know it is in the realm of the unseen. I
know that the battle is beyond the view of earthly eyes. I must trust, I
must conform. I must be used. I must be consumed.
Would they "boys" have expected less from me? They knew me well.
They probably conferred over how I would react after they were gone.
Did Satan approach God and ask permission? What was Gods comments
when he said OK? These are questions that mortals should not ask. But
they do and have had these conversations. Why was my name brought up?
Why and to what purpose do I go now. I cannot turn away from the fight.
I cannot change sides. I am destined to stay. To make war to be used up.
I stand in a driving rain, with lightning on every side. Soaked in
blood with no avenue for retreat. Death is all around me. It is with me
like a cloak. I have no sympathy for deserters or cowards. I await His
orders.
G
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 10:51 AM
Subject: The Bow
I have always thought of myself as an instrument.
An instrument of war. A blade or perhaps an arrow. To be used to slice
or penetrate the enemy. To be used up in this battle between good and
evil.
I thought of myself like gun powder or diesel, a supply to be used.
A consumable in this fight.
I have tried to stay in His grip so that my use would be for His
purpose.
The blade is better when sharp. The arrow is better when straight.
I am not sharp or straight now.
Can the maker that allowed a jaw bone to slay a thousand, use me?
Is the qualification for use determined by the deepest scars?
Am I to crawl up his garments and out on his arm. Am I to lay out
on His bow and be extinguished in the flight. Shattered against His
enemy.
Never to be used again. Broken off in the body of the evil one.
Does my seed share my use? Is this where they are? Slung into the beast
that steals, kills and destroys.
I know we have purpose, I know it is in the realm of the unseen. I
know that the battle is beyond the view of earthly eyes. I must trust, I
must conform. I must be used. I must be consumed.
Would they "boys" have expected less from me? They knew me well.
They probably conferred over how I would react after they were gone.
Did Satan approach God and ask permission? What was Gods comments
when he said OK? These are questions that mortals should not ask. But
they do and have had these conversations. Why was my name brought up?
Why and to what purpose do I go now. I cannot turn away from the fight.
I cannot change sides. I am destined to stay. To make war to be used up.
I stand in a driving rain, with lightning on every side. Soaked in
blood with no avenue for retreat. Death is all around me. It is with me
like a cloak. I have no sympathy for deserters or cowards. I await His
orders.
G
July 2, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 8:48 AM
Subject: Robbed
I look up and the perpetrator is walking away from me.
In his hands he carries my most valuable items.
In his hands he has my sanity. My mind, my heart. My dreams.
Do I dare shout at him. Do I dare try and get him to reveal
himself. Is he the Satan or is he the Lord of the universe?
I lie in the ditch submerged in bile and sewage. Gutted and left
for dead. I have a pulse. I can see shadows. Everything is in black,
white, and tones of gray, no colors.
I have not the ability to clean myself, to stuff the damaged
organs back in. I find myself at ease with the thought of death. Much
more so than the thought that my creator has acted against me.
It is too late to cry for mercy, it is too late to make deals, it
is too late to offer my physical life for the treasures robbed from me.
I am crushed and beaten, partially dead and dying. I have no fight
left. I settle inside myself and realize that I am left for dead, should
I just remain silent?
I wonder at the method, the suddenness, the brutality, the
severity, and most of all I wonder if this is an inside job.
As I lay in this busted state, I can't help but wonder what brought
on such a strike. Did I walk into the line of fire or was I ambushed.
Why do I fear what caused this as much as the event itself.
Perhaps my shortcomings, my focus, my what???? I tear my life apart
one brick at a time. Looking for the reason, the explanation, the map
for the madness.
I cling to the right thoughts. But haven't I always? At least
since he warned me 28 years ago. I watch passerbys as they serve their
own desires. I watch them from this ditch as they care not for right
thinking. Why am I here? A spectacle. A broken resemblance of a
beautiful life. Why do I still care? Why do I still worry? Is God
through with me...what good am I now?
I am at the bottom, God knew the things I really felt were
important, he didn't strip me (or allow) of the items that wouldn't
hurt. He took my manhood, my future, my cherished past.
Now I lay like road kill and the smell is unmistakable. The smell
of death. Death has its own odor. It is the odor that no one relates to
until they have it surround them. The odor that is as repulsive as fear.
I find myself so mad, that I want to just go back. Turn away from
all that is right. Turn from all the teachings, sermons, readings, and
songs.
But I don't know why this has happened, who do I rebel against? I
know that my heart is for God but my mind is full of madness. With no
where to place a rope, no place to assign blame it is like a wild
animal.
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 8:48 AM
Subject: Robbed
I look up and the perpetrator is walking away from me.
In his hands he carries my most valuable items.
In his hands he has my sanity. My mind, my heart. My dreams.
Do I dare shout at him. Do I dare try and get him to reveal
himself. Is he the Satan or is he the Lord of the universe?
I lie in the ditch submerged in bile and sewage. Gutted and left
for dead. I have a pulse. I can see shadows. Everything is in black,
white, and tones of gray, no colors.
I have not the ability to clean myself, to stuff the damaged
organs back in. I find myself at ease with the thought of death. Much
more so than the thought that my creator has acted against me.
It is too late to cry for mercy, it is too late to make deals, it
is too late to offer my physical life for the treasures robbed from me.
I am crushed and beaten, partially dead and dying. I have no fight
left. I settle inside myself and realize that I am left for dead, should
I just remain silent?
I wonder at the method, the suddenness, the brutality, the
severity, and most of all I wonder if this is an inside job.
As I lay in this busted state, I can't help but wonder what brought
on such a strike. Did I walk into the line of fire or was I ambushed.
Why do I fear what caused this as much as the event itself.
Perhaps my shortcomings, my focus, my what???? I tear my life apart
one brick at a time. Looking for the reason, the explanation, the map
for the madness.
I cling to the right thoughts. But haven't I always? At least
since he warned me 28 years ago. I watch passerbys as they serve their
own desires. I watch them from this ditch as they care not for right
thinking. Why am I here? A spectacle. A broken resemblance of a
beautiful life. Why do I still care? Why do I still worry? Is God
through with me...what good am I now?
I am at the bottom, God knew the things I really felt were
important, he didn't strip me (or allow) of the items that wouldn't
hurt. He took my manhood, my future, my cherished past.
Now I lay like road kill and the smell is unmistakable. The smell
of death. Death has its own odor. It is the odor that no one relates to
until they have it surround them. The odor that is as repulsive as fear.
I find myself so mad, that I want to just go back. Turn away from
all that is right. Turn from all the teachings, sermons, readings, and
songs.
But I don't know why this has happened, who do I rebel against? I
know that my heart is for God but my mind is full of madness. With no
where to place a rope, no place to assign blame it is like a wild
animal.
June 29, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, June 29, 2008 7:32 AM
Subject: Sun morn 6/29
I awake to the quivering body of a crying wife.
The morning started an hour earlier (4:00am) when the wave and
loneliness of predawn woke me.
The stillness and darkness amplify the emptiness that we feel. We
lay still for a minute then I begin to pray out loud.
Not so God can hear, but so she can hear. God is so close at
times. At others he is seemingly far away.
This morning he seems busy in another part of the universe. The
house is empty, it is a reflection of our lives.
I pray "Lord, I love you. I need you, we need you. I need you to
help with this pain, this terrible missing, I love you regardless but I
need your comfort. I do not understand, I can't stop the pain. I can't
fix what is wrong with me. I will need your assurance that everything is
ok. That you are still there. I need you. Only you. I ask that you send
Angels to guard us and set the Spirit as our defender. I ask that Satan
and any evil be bound up away from us. You say what ever we bind in
heaven will be bound on earth. I ask that you honor your word and bind
these dark thoughts.
Lord, I also ask that you lead, guide and direct me. That the doors
I would pass through be flung open, where no one can close them. I also
ask that the doors I am not to pass be nailed shut.
I ask you to provide peace and protection to my family, including
Jessica, Kim, Chris and Jenna.
Lord, I believe, I trust, I ask all this is the name of Jesus."
I get up, go find a truck that is stolen and cry off and on all
morning. Crying is not surrender. It is not feminine. It is not softness
or lameness. It is the prelude to prayer that is deeper. It is the
prelude to tongues. It is the broken hearted, the downtrodden that He
came for. It is me. I always wondered what it meant " the greatest will
be least and the least greatest"
I think that is our percentage gauge of our spirit vs. His spirit.
The bigger and stronger that our spirit is...the more room it requires.
When we are broken and so very, very small. When we seem so
insignificant. Then we leave plenty of room for Him. He can fill up and
occupy a larger space. He can dominate and we can be used.
I want to purge myself of myself. To give Him a clean board, to
give His space to Him. I am broken forever. I am not fixable. Only He
can remold the clay of my life. I am cast down and shattered.
My voice and mind do not seem familiar, they are different. They
have the scratches of pain embedded deep within. God has work to do in
me. Can I be fixed? Can I run, can I function, does He have a plan.
I push toward the shore.
Sent: Sunday, June 29, 2008 7:32 AM
Subject: Sun morn 6/29
I awake to the quivering body of a crying wife.
The morning started an hour earlier (4:00am) when the wave and
loneliness of predawn woke me.
The stillness and darkness amplify the emptiness that we feel. We
lay still for a minute then I begin to pray out loud.
Not so God can hear, but so she can hear. God is so close at
times. At others he is seemingly far away.
This morning he seems busy in another part of the universe. The
house is empty, it is a reflection of our lives.
I pray "Lord, I love you. I need you, we need you. I need you to
help with this pain, this terrible missing, I love you regardless but I
need your comfort. I do not understand, I can't stop the pain. I can't
fix what is wrong with me. I will need your assurance that everything is
ok. That you are still there. I need you. Only you. I ask that you send
Angels to guard us and set the Spirit as our defender. I ask that Satan
and any evil be bound up away from us. You say what ever we bind in
heaven will be bound on earth. I ask that you honor your word and bind
these dark thoughts.
Lord, I also ask that you lead, guide and direct me. That the doors
I would pass through be flung open, where no one can close them. I also
ask that the doors I am not to pass be nailed shut.
I ask you to provide peace and protection to my family, including
Jessica, Kim, Chris and Jenna.
Lord, I believe, I trust, I ask all this is the name of Jesus."
I get up, go find a truck that is stolen and cry off and on all
morning. Crying is not surrender. It is not feminine. It is not softness
or lameness. It is the prelude to prayer that is deeper. It is the
prelude to tongues. It is the broken hearted, the downtrodden that He
came for. It is me. I always wondered what it meant " the greatest will
be least and the least greatest"
I think that is our percentage gauge of our spirit vs. His spirit.
The bigger and stronger that our spirit is...the more room it requires.
When we are broken and so very, very small. When we seem so
insignificant. Then we leave plenty of room for Him. He can fill up and
occupy a larger space. He can dominate and we can be used.
I want to purge myself of myself. To give Him a clean board, to
give His space to Him. I am broken forever. I am not fixable. Only He
can remold the clay of my life. I am cast down and shattered.
My voice and mind do not seem familiar, they are different. They
have the scratches of pain embedded deep within. God has work to do in
me. Can I be fixed? Can I run, can I function, does He have a plan.
I push toward the shore.
June 27, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Saturday, June 28, 2008 8:36 AM
Subject: June 27
I have watched today as the storms rolled into Mobile, I was in the gulf
and the water was rough but it was sunny.
It was enjoyable to be on the water. Allen and Justin loved the
water and I would have loved for them to be with me today.
They would have enjoyed running in three foot seas at 60 mph. That
would have suited them just fine.
I thought about the ski trip, the rodeo, the gulf, the camp, the
subdivision and all the things that remind me of the "boys".
I know it has been 4 weeks, but the essence of the boys is on every
hand and in everything that I love. If I separate from everything that
reminds me of them then I will be a hermit.
I told Leslie and Jessica that every restaurant, every road, every
weather condition, every season, every rod, every reel, every gun, every
little boy, every newspaper, every hunting or fishing magazine, every
sun rise and every sunset-they remind me of Allen and Justin.
I am having a good day because I have determined that had I left-I
would want everyone to move on. Honor me in living, don't mope around,
don't morn like they don't know where I am. Get their head up and get
after it. Live life wide open. No seat belt required, grip it and rip
it. Don't stay in the mud, don't wallow. Don't waste a day. Love God,
love what memories we had but stop whipping ourselves with good
memories. That is not what good memories are for.
Relish them, repeat them, remember them, but don't drown in them.
I believe that Allen and Justin loved me. I know that in time we
would have created memories that would eclipse all that I had up to this
point.
I am comforted by that thought and I know that I have experienced a
life change.
As Jerry Lawson said the "season" has changed in our lives. We now
enter a different time. A time of extended morning and a time of
reinvention and reshifting.
I do not see this as easy. I know that I am being transformed by
this process. I am no less blessed today than a month ago at this time.
That is a fact, no matter what it looks like the Lord is in charge and
He needs me to remember that.
I hope that God (the trinity) and the "boys" are having a ball.
I was told about an experience that a guy working for me had. He
said that he had a dream or out of body experience. He said that he was
taken to heaven to see the heavenly choir. He told me that some harp
players pushed the strings while others pulled the strings.
I thought to myself that Allen was probably in another room with
his big arms up, listening to double lead guitars, swaying in the flow
of the supernatural. I don't know what heaven is like. I have very
little idea actually. I don't know if they are there now, or resting
until he comes.
I do know what I would make heaven like for those "boys".
I knew them well. I think about what the word tells us about how much
more our heavenly father would do good toward his children (in
comparison to a earthly father).
I would be embarrassed by God to even compare what I would make
heaven like vs. what he is capable of. That is ok with me because if I
was designing and constructing heaven I would make it just right for the
personalities that Allen and Justin have.
They were unique among men and so different and similar to each
other at the same time.
I wish I could see what they are doing, taste the life that they
are living now. They are back home. Back where they can be one with the
maker of all. Back where the power is always on and the volume is
always up.
Where the stars and the universe display like fireworks every
night. Where the music is fast and slow at the same time. Where the
praise of God is a common language. Where the God of the universe is
smiling and enjoying them in my stead. I trust Him. I need Him to help
me hurdle this pain, the pain of miss, the pain of a hollow spot.
I love Him completely, no limit now, no worries about others
thoughts.
I listen to music that Allen would have reached over and turned up.
I glance where he would have been seated and then I turn it up for him.
Worshipping as I go, just like we would do when he was here.
Gary
Sent: Saturday, June 28, 2008 8:36 AM
Subject: June 27
I have watched today as the storms rolled into Mobile, I was in the gulf
and the water was rough but it was sunny.
It was enjoyable to be on the water. Allen and Justin loved the
water and I would have loved for them to be with me today.
They would have enjoyed running in three foot seas at 60 mph. That
would have suited them just fine.
I thought about the ski trip, the rodeo, the gulf, the camp, the
subdivision and all the things that remind me of the "boys".
I know it has been 4 weeks, but the essence of the boys is on every
hand and in everything that I love. If I separate from everything that
reminds me of them then I will be a hermit.
I told Leslie and Jessica that every restaurant, every road, every
weather condition, every season, every rod, every reel, every gun, every
little boy, every newspaper, every hunting or fishing magazine, every
sun rise and every sunset-they remind me of Allen and Justin.
I am having a good day because I have determined that had I left-I
would want everyone to move on. Honor me in living, don't mope around,
don't morn like they don't know where I am. Get their head up and get
after it. Live life wide open. No seat belt required, grip it and rip
it. Don't stay in the mud, don't wallow. Don't waste a day. Love God,
love what memories we had but stop whipping ourselves with good
memories. That is not what good memories are for.
Relish them, repeat them, remember them, but don't drown in them.
I believe that Allen and Justin loved me. I know that in time we
would have created memories that would eclipse all that I had up to this
point.
I am comforted by that thought and I know that I have experienced a
life change.
As Jerry Lawson said the "season" has changed in our lives. We now
enter a different time. A time of extended morning and a time of
reinvention and reshifting.
I do not see this as easy. I know that I am being transformed by
this process. I am no less blessed today than a month ago at this time.
That is a fact, no matter what it looks like the Lord is in charge and
He needs me to remember that.
I hope that God (the trinity) and the "boys" are having a ball.
I was told about an experience that a guy working for me had. He
said that he had a dream or out of body experience. He said that he was
taken to heaven to see the heavenly choir. He told me that some harp
players pushed the strings while others pulled the strings.
I thought to myself that Allen was probably in another room with
his big arms up, listening to double lead guitars, swaying in the flow
of the supernatural. I don't know what heaven is like. I have very
little idea actually. I don't know if they are there now, or resting
until he comes.
I do know what I would make heaven like for those "boys".
I knew them well. I think about what the word tells us about how much
more our heavenly father would do good toward his children (in
comparison to a earthly father).
I would be embarrassed by God to even compare what I would make
heaven like vs. what he is capable of. That is ok with me because if I
was designing and constructing heaven I would make it just right for the
personalities that Allen and Justin have.
They were unique among men and so different and similar to each
other at the same time.
I wish I could see what they are doing, taste the life that they
are living now. They are back home. Back where they can be one with the
maker of all. Back where the power is always on and the volume is
always up.
Where the stars and the universe display like fireworks every
night. Where the music is fast and slow at the same time. Where the
praise of God is a common language. Where the God of the universe is
smiling and enjoying them in my stead. I trust Him. I need Him to help
me hurdle this pain, the pain of miss, the pain of a hollow spot.
I love Him completely, no limit now, no worries about others
thoughts.
I listen to music that Allen would have reached over and turned up.
I glance where he would have been seated and then I turn it up for him.
Worshipping as I go, just like we would do when he was here.
Gary
June 25, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, June 25, 2008 7:09 PM
Subject: Dreamer
The essence of each of us is one trait that dominates. One attribute
that we know is at the core of our thoughts.
That one individual package of talents, wills, and motivations that
when blended together create the essence of our personalities.
For my entire life I have been a dreamer. Always in a look ahead
(dream ahead) state of mind. I can't remember the first dream or
imaginative thought I had. They have always been a part of me. They are
like the colors in my very blood.
I dreamed of adventures and love, or building and discovering. I
never found a resting place for my dreams, they were always bigger than
my span. When I would achieve an element of a dream the dream would
expand.
It would stretch out and change colors like the ocean in a rising
sun.
I had developed such elaborate dreams and seemingly God had allowed me
the ability to pursue them and even catch some of them.
I am now for the first time in my life without a dream. It is a
barren place that I am not accustomed to. I have had my ability to dream
burnt up inside of my being. Trashed in my heart and shredded in my mind.
I cannot conjure up the dreams that I had before. They are as
foreign to me as another language.
They were assembled in a time that I can't duplicate. In a section
of my life that is finished.
I had so many dreams that were based on a legacy that is no more.
On help that is no longer on the way. Every thought I had included
preparation for my dreams. Every direction I have taken was in pursuit
of my interpretation of that dream. God was included in my dreams. He
was a key element in all my plans and dreams.
Was he offended. Was my dreams not in order. Was this chapter in my
life designed to end my dreams.
Can I stop dreaming, and pursuing?
Is this the fork in the road where I have to be reinvented?
I am not able to envision myself without dreams, without looking at
the big picture. Now I am scared that my dreams have caused God to
separate me from Him.
I am afraid to try and dream, what if He is angry for this trait.
What if this is my permanent flaw. The flaw that can't be removed. The
planner without a plan, the dreamer without a dream.
And what of all the preparation for the former dreams. It is like
lumber and steel stacked and ready.
What do I do with it. It is like a curse to me. I am afraid of it.
Did my dream preparation separate me from Gods will.
This is a question that God will need to handle. Do I stop, do I
go. Was I wrong, was I right. The structure of the dreams had certain
elements that were woven into them.
The sons that are no more were woven into the dreams like sails on
a ship. Without them the ship is useless.
The loneliness is tough, unbearably so at times. The memories are
all in living color. As well the dreams were.
God, I hope that I have not offended you. That is my prayer.
G
Sent: Wednesday, June 25, 2008 7:09 PM
Subject: Dreamer
The essence of each of us is one trait that dominates. One attribute
that we know is at the core of our thoughts.
That one individual package of talents, wills, and motivations that
when blended together create the essence of our personalities.
For my entire life I have been a dreamer. Always in a look ahead
(dream ahead) state of mind. I can't remember the first dream or
imaginative thought I had. They have always been a part of me. They are
like the colors in my very blood.
I dreamed of adventures and love, or building and discovering. I
never found a resting place for my dreams, they were always bigger than
my span. When I would achieve an element of a dream the dream would
expand.
It would stretch out and change colors like the ocean in a rising
sun.
I had developed such elaborate dreams and seemingly God had allowed me
the ability to pursue them and even catch some of them.
I am now for the first time in my life without a dream. It is a
barren place that I am not accustomed to. I have had my ability to dream
burnt up inside of my being. Trashed in my heart and shredded in my mind.
I cannot conjure up the dreams that I had before. They are as
foreign to me as another language.
They were assembled in a time that I can't duplicate. In a section
of my life that is finished.
I had so many dreams that were based on a legacy that is no more.
On help that is no longer on the way. Every thought I had included
preparation for my dreams. Every direction I have taken was in pursuit
of my interpretation of that dream. God was included in my dreams. He
was a key element in all my plans and dreams.
Was he offended. Was my dreams not in order. Was this chapter in my
life designed to end my dreams.
Can I stop dreaming, and pursuing?
Is this the fork in the road where I have to be reinvented?
I am not able to envision myself without dreams, without looking at
the big picture. Now I am scared that my dreams have caused God to
separate me from Him.
I am afraid to try and dream, what if He is angry for this trait.
What if this is my permanent flaw. The flaw that can't be removed. The
planner without a plan, the dreamer without a dream.
And what of all the preparation for the former dreams. It is like
lumber and steel stacked and ready.
What do I do with it. It is like a curse to me. I am afraid of it.
Did my dream preparation separate me from Gods will.
This is a question that God will need to handle. Do I stop, do I
go. Was I wrong, was I right. The structure of the dreams had certain
elements that were woven into them.
The sons that are no more were woven into the dreams like sails on
a ship. Without them the ship is useless.
The loneliness is tough, unbearably so at times. The memories are
all in living color. As well the dreams were.
God, I hope that I have not offended you. That is my prayer.
G
June 25, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Wednesday, June 25, 2008 11:37 AM
Subject: Heart vacant
My heart is broken...I have heard the words all my life.
Thought I understood, thought I had a grasp of what being heart broken
meant.
Now I see that phrase as limited. A glancing blow at describing a beast
that has reached in and left my heart vacant.
I love what I have left but my heart seems scrapped out.
I try to focus on what is left in an effort to fight this beast but my
vision is locked.
I shut my eyes and see the event over and over.
I thought I was tough. Is this Gods way of taking my structure away.
Showing me how little I am in His sight.
I am vacant, my life is what He desires. Is my thoughts on Him different
than reality. Does he have a purpose in every instant or occurrence.
Is the purpose in this episode to push me to the edge. To make me
freefall. Does He not care for me now more than when He called me.
Called me from the devils team, made me pick a side.
If I have been a good investment why would he cripple me so. Why would
He expose my heart for the dark vultures to circle and glare at.
Their thoughts of "where is the one you serve?"
It is as if a limb was severed and I continued to resist so another was
cut and cast away.
I lay a stump of a man, with my chest cracked. My heart
Exposed and "vacant"
G
Sent: Wednesday, June 25, 2008 11:37 AM
Subject: Heart vacant
My heart is broken...I have heard the words all my life.
Thought I understood, thought I had a grasp of what being heart broken
meant.
Now I see that phrase as limited. A glancing blow at describing a beast
that has reached in and left my heart vacant.
I love what I have left but my heart seems scrapped out.
I try to focus on what is left in an effort to fight this beast but my
vision is locked.
I shut my eyes and see the event over and over.
I thought I was tough. Is this Gods way of taking my structure away.
Showing me how little I am in His sight.
I am vacant, my life is what He desires. Is my thoughts on Him different
than reality. Does he have a purpose in every instant or occurrence.
Is the purpose in this episode to push me to the edge. To make me
freefall. Does He not care for me now more than when He called me.
Called me from the devils team, made me pick a side.
If I have been a good investment why would he cripple me so. Why would
He expose my heart for the dark vultures to circle and glare at.
Their thoughts of "where is the one you serve?"
It is as if a limb was severed and I continued to resist so another was
cut and cast away.
I lay a stump of a man, with my chest cracked. My heart
Exposed and "vacant"
G
June 23, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Monday, June 23, 2008 12:11 PM
Subject: Campfire
I am pushed back from the campfire of God.
The warmth and security of my location. The sense that I was close
to Him. The safe wellbeing that surrounded me is gone.
I am back in the wilderness, only cold surrounds me. The warmth
that emitted from Him is no longer here. Have I been sleep walking? Did
I wander away?
Or did he just move camp. Does He care if I am lost? Does he know
that I am cold. Did he think I was prepared for life without Him. What
is he thinking?
If I didn't walk away, did he just leave me while I was sleeping?
Did he forget me.
The sun and moon are dark, the wilderness is desolate, empty,
lifeless, lonely, and void. Without the warmth of His presence I am
weak. I am torn up.
His actions confuse me. Why would he give to me the very air of my
spiritual being. Why would he fulfill my dreams only to return a few
months later to remove them.
The very scent of my dreams are removed. I am subjected to the
tormentor. Does he pull me limb from mental limb. Am I but a twig to
toss on the fire and burn up. I do not feel sorry for myself but I do
not understand my Heavenly Father.
I was tough on mine, but he exceeds me. He must have given up on my
value, my influence, my worth. He crushes my life like grapes to prepare
a drink for strangers. I sit at the table and watch the drink offering
as it is consumed.
I am wounded, but not unto death. I must continue. But to what
direction. Where is He now camped?
What is my path back to His security? Do I dare think that the
security of God is no longer for me? What if I am left exposed to be an
example? An example of what? Am I elevated so I can be slammed down?
Broken into a million shards of pain filled glass. Each shard lost in
the sands around a cold long gone campfire.
Gary
From: Gary West
Sent: Tuesday, June 24, 2008 11:56 PM
Subject: Tears
Tears of maternal joy many years ago, now turn to tears of anguish and
motherly loss.
Tears of happiness at a sweet proposal now turn into manless tears
of mourning for young wives.
Tears of birthright turn a fathers heart into liquid that seeps as
the tears of a life not lived, lessons not taught, battles not fought.
Manly conversations not entered and laughter forever silenced, they
dissolve on the cheek and prick even hearts of stone.
Tears of time past and times not realized, turn grandparents tears
into perpetual rivers of memories.
Friends lost in the current of smiles, photos, and shared dreams,
their tears drive them to wonder why.
For the tears are a pop off valve for all the pain, all the
lostness of the grief cycle, they trickle down on quivering lips and
chins. They let God know that we are indeed human. That we can't move
without remembering, without our chest constricting. That no pain
compares to the loss, to the finality, to the emptiness, to the sign now
reading dead-end.
Yes this pain deserves more than a simple river of tears. It is too
great to remedy. Tears are an injustice. They are cheap adjectives for
the depth, breath and length of the cut, the tearing of the organs from
the family body. The blood of our tribe is taken and we are left but
tears to describe the event, to celebrate the ambush of our future.
Tears are so inadequate. So shallow and so necessary.
G
Sent: Monday, June 23, 2008 12:11 PM
Subject: Campfire
I am pushed back from the campfire of God.
The warmth and security of my location. The sense that I was close
to Him. The safe wellbeing that surrounded me is gone.
I am back in the wilderness, only cold surrounds me. The warmth
that emitted from Him is no longer here. Have I been sleep walking? Did
I wander away?
Or did he just move camp. Does He care if I am lost? Does he know
that I am cold. Did he think I was prepared for life without Him. What
is he thinking?
If I didn't walk away, did he just leave me while I was sleeping?
Did he forget me.
The sun and moon are dark, the wilderness is desolate, empty,
lifeless, lonely, and void. Without the warmth of His presence I am
weak. I am torn up.
His actions confuse me. Why would he give to me the very air of my
spiritual being. Why would he fulfill my dreams only to return a few
months later to remove them.
The very scent of my dreams are removed. I am subjected to the
tormentor. Does he pull me limb from mental limb. Am I but a twig to
toss on the fire and burn up. I do not feel sorry for myself but I do
not understand my Heavenly Father.
I was tough on mine, but he exceeds me. He must have given up on my
value, my influence, my worth. He crushes my life like grapes to prepare
a drink for strangers. I sit at the table and watch the drink offering
as it is consumed.
I am wounded, but not unto death. I must continue. But to what
direction. Where is He now camped?
What is my path back to His security? Do I dare think that the
security of God is no longer for me? What if I am left exposed to be an
example? An example of what? Am I elevated so I can be slammed down?
Broken into a million shards of pain filled glass. Each shard lost in
the sands around a cold long gone campfire.
Gary
From: Gary West
Sent: Tuesday, June 24, 2008 11:56 PM
Subject: Tears
Tears of maternal joy many years ago, now turn to tears of anguish and
motherly loss.
Tears of happiness at a sweet proposal now turn into manless tears
of mourning for young wives.
Tears of birthright turn a fathers heart into liquid that seeps as
the tears of a life not lived, lessons not taught, battles not fought.
Manly conversations not entered and laughter forever silenced, they
dissolve on the cheek and prick even hearts of stone.
Tears of time past and times not realized, turn grandparents tears
into perpetual rivers of memories.
Friends lost in the current of smiles, photos, and shared dreams,
their tears drive them to wonder why.
For the tears are a pop off valve for all the pain, all the
lostness of the grief cycle, they trickle down on quivering lips and
chins. They let God know that we are indeed human. That we can't move
without remembering, without our chest constricting. That no pain
compares to the loss, to the finality, to the emptiness, to the sign now
reading dead-end.
Yes this pain deserves more than a simple river of tears. It is too
great to remedy. Tears are an injustice. They are cheap adjectives for
the depth, breath and length of the cut, the tearing of the organs from
the family body. The blood of our tribe is taken and we are left but
tears to describe the event, to celebrate the ambush of our future.
Tears are so inadequate. So shallow and so necessary.
G
June 22, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Sunday, June 22, 2008 6:20 PM
Subject: Today June 22
Today I seek the edge of the new life I have here on earth.
I am swimming a black sea, full of monsters, sharks and demons. I
swim without bearing, without a lighthouse. I pause and tread water. I
listen to the waves splash and long to hear the splash of Allen's arms
beating along side me.
His were strong arms and he was such a good swimmer. He is safe on
the shore now. He has swam ahead.
The sea around me thinks it has me, it thinks that if it confuses
me long enough-I will slip below the surface. Embrace the blackness.
Swallow deep and inhale the sorrow. Drink the poison. Forsake the
mission. I will not lose the faith. I will not draw or write the end of
this episode.
I push myself to latch onto the spirit, the spirit that guides me
through the blackness. The one that protects my soft sides from the
attacks.
I seek to be one with God to finish this swim. To make the shore
where the Golden city is. To walk up to the gates and shout the name of
my God and the name of my only son.
If this is the sacrifice required, if this is the trail that I must
blaze. If this is the fight I was designed for. Then I pity the enemy
when my Lord brings me to the shore.
In Him do I now exist. In Him do I now trust completely. Life here
is but a ride that I must complete. I hope the enemy has fear in his eye
for me. I hope he understands that every bite, claw and cut is making me
stronger.
I am no longer, only my Lord remains. I spit in his eye by the
power of a risen Lord that has fought every battle, faced every
temptation.
What can he do to me now? What threat does he offer that is more
than this. I must sharpen my steel. I must pay my dues. I must submit my
will. I must tame my wild heart. I must tie myself to the yoke of the
Christ.
Then I must finish this swim. In this blackness I must push toward
the bank. I must leave" myself" in this black sea and crawl up the bank
using only His power. Using only His strength. I must leave the old Gary
behind, dreams, ambitions, drive, worries, they must all slip away below
the blackness and let me swim strong and light.
The old dreams are heavy, they weigh like heavy lead on me. They
pull me under. They make me easy prey to the shadows that slice this
black sea around me.
I must shake them, never to forget but never to serve them again. I
have treasure walking the streets of gold. I have a reason to attack and
attack again and again. I have lived my hole life in search of peace and
hoping for the serenity of an old mans life.
Now I am made young again by the passion for the fight. I want to
see my Lord elevate Himself, show His power. Slice from the enemy His
very heart.
Gary
Sent: Sunday, June 22, 2008 6:20 PM
Subject: Today June 22
Today I seek the edge of the new life I have here on earth.
I am swimming a black sea, full of monsters, sharks and demons. I
swim without bearing, without a lighthouse. I pause and tread water. I
listen to the waves splash and long to hear the splash of Allen's arms
beating along side me.
His were strong arms and he was such a good swimmer. He is safe on
the shore now. He has swam ahead.
The sea around me thinks it has me, it thinks that if it confuses
me long enough-I will slip below the surface. Embrace the blackness.
Swallow deep and inhale the sorrow. Drink the poison. Forsake the
mission. I will not lose the faith. I will not draw or write the end of
this episode.
I push myself to latch onto the spirit, the spirit that guides me
through the blackness. The one that protects my soft sides from the
attacks.
I seek to be one with God to finish this swim. To make the shore
where the Golden city is. To walk up to the gates and shout the name of
my God and the name of my only son.
If this is the sacrifice required, if this is the trail that I must
blaze. If this is the fight I was designed for. Then I pity the enemy
when my Lord brings me to the shore.
In Him do I now exist. In Him do I now trust completely. Life here
is but a ride that I must complete. I hope the enemy has fear in his eye
for me. I hope he understands that every bite, claw and cut is making me
stronger.
I am no longer, only my Lord remains. I spit in his eye by the
power of a risen Lord that has fought every battle, faced every
temptation.
What can he do to me now? What threat does he offer that is more
than this. I must sharpen my steel. I must pay my dues. I must submit my
will. I must tame my wild heart. I must tie myself to the yoke of the
Christ.
Then I must finish this swim. In this blackness I must push toward
the bank. I must leave" myself" in this black sea and crawl up the bank
using only His power. Using only His strength. I must leave the old Gary
behind, dreams, ambitions, drive, worries, they must all slip away below
the blackness and let me swim strong and light.
The old dreams are heavy, they weigh like heavy lead on me. They
pull me under. They make me easy prey to the shadows that slice this
black sea around me.
I must shake them, never to forget but never to serve them again. I
have treasure walking the streets of gold. I have a reason to attack and
attack again and again. I have lived my hole life in search of peace and
hoping for the serenity of an old mans life.
Now I am made young again by the passion for the fight. I want to
see my Lord elevate Himself, show His power. Slice from the enemy His
very heart.
Gary
June 19, 2008
From: Gary West
Sent: Thursday, June 19, 2008 5:31 AM
Subject: June 17
I don't understand.
I was climbing up the cliffs that surround this lagoon of depression.
I could operate at least on a partial basis normally.
I now find myself thrown back into the water of my misery.
Drowning in memories and what ifs.
I found sleep for a couple of nights and now she is elusive again.
If this is to be the norm for the balance of my life, to what end will I
go? To what purpose will I serve?
Will I be but a cripple? A mental has been, living by looking back. Will
I be trying to steer while looking in the rear view mirror?
I can get it in gear but the shifter keeps popping out throwing me into
neutral..
Its like my shifting forks are bent. My alignment is off. My mental
vehicle is all messed up.
I remember what Joe McDuffie said about feelings.
He said "sometimes you don't feel like a Christian but you keep acting
like a Christian until the feelings come back"
Am I stuck in the act? Will the feelings that I trusted for my very
existence come back?
Will my complete and absolute trust in God survive this attack?
I know that He is with me. I can feel Him. I can feel the strength in my
prayers and the peace that they return.
I just felt that my track up this rock face of pain wouldn't drop me
right back where I started from.
Now I claw my way back up again.
Sent: Thursday, June 19, 2008 5:31 AM
Subject: June 17
I don't understand.
I was climbing up the cliffs that surround this lagoon of depression.
I could operate at least on a partial basis normally.
I now find myself thrown back into the water of my misery.
Drowning in memories and what ifs.
I found sleep for a couple of nights and now she is elusive again.
If this is to be the norm for the balance of my life, to what end will I
go? To what purpose will I serve?
Will I be but a cripple? A mental has been, living by looking back. Will
I be trying to steer while looking in the rear view mirror?
I can get it in gear but the shifter keeps popping out throwing me into
neutral..
Its like my shifting forks are bent. My alignment is off. My mental
vehicle is all messed up.
I remember what Joe McDuffie said about feelings.
He said "sometimes you don't feel like a Christian but you keep acting
like a Christian until the feelings come back"
Am I stuck in the act? Will the feelings that I trusted for my very
existence come back?
Will my complete and absolute trust in God survive this attack?
I know that He is with me. I can feel Him. I can feel the strength in my
prayers and the peace that they return.
I just felt that my track up this rock face of pain wouldn't drop me
right back where I started from.
Now I claw my way back up again.
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