We Are Forgiven

Just tell the story

Since birth me and death have been walking down the street hand to hand

I was born with transposition of the great vessel… my heart needed to be repaired… it wasn’t pumping enough blood to my body…

I WAS BORN WITH A BAD HEART!!!

this should be a fairytale ending… but contrary to the way movies end while my heart was being repaired the heart of my parents marriage was starting to not pump enough blood through their marriage to keep it alive.

Eventually, that heart burst and was not salvagable and they divorced.

By the time of their divorce the heart of their children were also effected… My physical heart is pumping but the family heart is basically broken and damaged.

The saying is “hurt people hurt people” well people with broken and damaged hearts seek out other people with broken and damaged hearts.

But not only that, but people with broken hearts don’t realize they are making other people with broken hearts.

And we don’t seek it out to fix our hearts but to only help us cope or better yet ignore that our hearts are broken.

All the homeboys I had growing up we all had one major thing in common in some shape or form or fashion our homes were shattered.

THE HEART OF OUR HOMES WERE BROKEN AND WE WERE THE PRODUCT OF THAT BROKENESS….

To be more specific we had terrible relationships with our fathers or they were none existent.

And we wore it like a badge of honor.

The first time I was embarassed about not having my father in my life was when I met my wife father. I was still in high school and went to meet her family for the first time… Here dad asked me about my mom and I was able to speak to it with my head high. But when he asked me about my father all I could do is drop my head and say “I don’t know”…. That hurt….

That interaction with my wife’s father cracked the concrete stone of a badge that I put around my heart and I for the first time in years was hurting because I had to tell the father of the girl I like that I don’t know where my daddy is at.

But then It revealed to him that this 17 year old dressed in blue khakies, chucks, and a flannel jacket with a blue cap trying to look tough was really just a little boy that was lost due to the damage of a broken heart in a marriage and even more damaged due to the broken damaged heart of his father.

I didn’t grow up in the ghetto or the projects as a child…. I grew up in the subarbs at the time when the areas off of Windsor spring and peach orchord was considered doing good. Meadowbrook was a come up.

BUT BROKEN HOMES CREATE BROKEN PEOPLE THAT GO OUT TO MAKE MORE BROKEN PEOPLE AND IT CAN CHANGE A COMMUNITY OVER THE YEARS.

And so we think that having broken hearts are normal… but here is the thing it takes just one encounter with the abnormal to our twisted normal.

What does this have to do with the Prodigal or Lost Son…

This where the plot twist occurres.…