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Love...

One of the few, oh how few things we can count on in this life. Love is special it will exist forever. It is eternal in that everyone will feel it, know it, and experience it in one shape, form, or fashion. It is inescapable. This is truth. We all have love the second we are born into this world of sin. A child I believe truly loves their mother and father from birth. Science may try to disprove this theory, but I believe this to be true. By experience only do I speak.. My first memories are of an aunt and uncle being my "parents". Therefore you would believe they would be objects of my love. Thirty-nine years later I do not know or "love" these people. I thank them for what they did for me and care for them as any Christian should, but to stand and say I love these people with my concept of love, I feel would be a lie. I will not cry when they leave this world, I do not know birthdays or any other special events in their lives. I can say that I care for their souls, but, I feel that is the love that one Christian automatically has for the lost or our brethren. I do not wish to see them ill. It is salvation that I wish for their souls. May the Lord bless them. May He bless their families also.

Innately though, I do love the mother who left me in their care. This woman tried her best. The role of teacher, leader and role model were too much for her. Yet after being raised by my father, this absentee mother I still loved and love to this day after her passing. Not trying to cut my father short, if you would have seen it as a movie you would say "How could he not love his father? How can he even talk to that woman?" Love.My father was a quiet man. He carried a lot of burdens. Being a disabled ex-convict (those words look so bad written down) he was eventually left with the care of two young boys. One of them not even being his own child. He loved us boys more than anything. This is where I learned how to love. He was always putting our wants and needs ahead of his own. The idea of going from a single alcoholic to raising two children, to me, seems impossible. Yet he did it. He did it with a lot of patience and hard work. To see that man coming in covered in sweat from a hard day's work, now, is one of my most precious memories. Because I know now he was doing it for me. He did not have to take custody of me, much less my brother. He chose to. He didn't have to buy us name-brand clothes and shoes, he would get out and work and sweat to make sure we had them. With him, never a Christmas went by where we did not get exactly what we asked for. As an adult living the same type of life, on the same type of income that he had I just don't think I could do it.

My father was disabled. He had a bad leg. His knee would not bend therefore he had one leg that was always straight. Watching him walk looked like it was hard enough, much less how he could push a lawn-mower all day, but he would. He would find those ways to make sure my brother and I had the things we needed and wanted. We were raised by a single father on disability who worked side jobs to help supplement his income, yet somehow he spoiled us. He spoiled us in the material areas. We were always shown to work hard, respect our elders, read our bibles, and to pray. He never stopped us from going to church. He himself chose not to go too often. He only went 2 or 3 times that I remember. He was there when I was baptized though. I'll never forget that day he went to church.

I called this website just a rant because I was gonna come on here to complain about how my life is just not going the way I felt it should be. The funny thing is it's going exactly how it's supposed to. I have found a way to get out all of the things that I hold in. Holding all of this stuff in is really unhealthy. As I've mentioned before I started a podcast also called epileptic rants, but podcasting is just not my forte. I don't think I'll stop because there are actually people hearing it all over the world and that intrigues me. I just want to find better topics to talk about. I only talk for about 10 minutes. That's a better time for a YouTube video I've found out. Podcasting should last 20 minutes to an hour and really should have a point. That's why I like blogging I can get on here and my ADD can take over. I can talk for as long as I can type. I've learned that I can type for a pretty long time and I'm getting a lot better at it too. I think I love blogging. Heck, I think I love writing in general. The first half of this was something I had found that I had written 3 years ago to the day. 12/23/16 Coincidence maybe. This is also the longest post I've had so far. If you've read them all, the first ones were pretty short. I think this is gonna be a good therapy practice for me. It gets me out of my bed, off of my back, off of YouTube and Netflix and starts me using my brain again.

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