So, What’s it Gonna Take?

It is early on a Sunday.
The clouds decided to show themselves this morning. Then again, the weatherman tells us about a storm that’s supposed to come. I heard the news say the storm is on its way from the northeast.
And that means this could be a bad one.
But I don’t mind.

Great things happen in the rain.
Days like this can be great to create memories.
I know.

I don’t mind the quietness or the quiet before the storm. And I don’t mind the torrential downpours that are said to be on the way.
I don’t mind these things at all.
Why would I?
I have no plans, other than the basics of what I do on Sundays.
Besides, I have a lot of things to do here, which is fine for the moment.

I realize there is a difference between being alone and feeling alone. Then again, I am unsure which is worse, feeling alone when you are by ourself, or is it worse to be with someone else and feel more lonesome than ever before.

I am alone now or for the time being. Then again, it always goes this way.
This is always the way it goes when I come here to sit with you.
I find it to work best this way.
You, me, the hushed quiet of nothing, and there is no one else around but us to be here and sit together without the difficulty of words to make us confused.
This is perfect.
The quiet suits us because this eliminates the distractions and let us be us.
I think this is how we are supposed to be.
You can be you. I can be me. And as for the questions about the rest of the world or as for the mass configuration of different bullshit and concerns of everyday life?
All of this is unimportant for the moment.

There’s nothing else to deal with for now.
There is nothing but the quiet hiss from the wind outside, which I hear is picking up enough to be some kind of a tell-tale sign about the weather that’s yet to come.

I was thinking about us earlier. Or who to be honest, who am I kidding?
I always think about us.
I think about our life or the life that we wanted. I think about the dead-ends that we have both hit, repeatedly, and I think about the life we wished for.
I think about the times when we settled for less-than and how we wondered why neither of us were ever happy or satisfied.
I think about the good life or that place called “Easy Street,” wherever that is.
But wherever it is, I suppose we missed the bus on that one.

I am a man of faith. However, I am equally faithless and often tragic at times.
But I do pray.
I often wonder if my prayers mean anything.
Or if anything, I assume that my prayers are no different from when I sit alone and talk to myself.
Maybe I am underserving is a question I have.
Or maybe the answers I get are beyond my understanding.
Either way, I pray, no matter what.

I see prayer as a verbal action.
I say prayer is an act, which is no different from “putting it out there,” to the universe or humbling myself and asking for the divinity of some kind of divine intervention—that is, of course, if I deserve this sort of thing. But who am I to say?

I was thinking about a story that I was told. And I think this story fits the times.
By the way, this story is far from mine and perhaps the story is popular — but as far as I know, I only heard this story one time.
I heard this once and still, I often regard this as a reminder that sometimes, the answer is “no!”
The story will be paraphrased, of course. But I will do my best to be loyal to the meaning and stick to the moral behind it.

The story is about a man who was in a financial crisis. He was about to lose everything. He had a loving family, which he worked hard to provide for.
He worked and he tried, and he built his own business.
He was moderately successful too, until the times hit him where it hurt.

As the saying goes, life is life, friends are friends, but business is business.
Unfortunately, the man’s business went under.
He had to break the news to all of his employees and let them go.
He had to break the news to his wife who was pregnant for the second time.
He was facing bankruptcy and failure.
And, of course, there he was, sitting in the recliner of his home, to which the man was usure how he would keep and pay the mortgage.

His three-year-old daughter was playing with her toys in the family room in front of the man’s recliner.
She noticed that her father seemed sad and heavy hearted.
She could tell that her Daddy was not doing well. . .

So, the little girl innocently and lovingly climbed up to her father’s lap to cheer him up.

“What’s the matter Daddy?”

Her father was sifting through the bills that he could not pay. He was holding a foreclosure notice on the building which he had owned and where he ran his business for years.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweet pea.”

The father tried to hold himself together and keep his composure.

“Then why do you seem so sad, Daddy?”
“Daddy is in a little bit of a bind,” the father explained.”

“What’s a bind, Daddy?”
The father explained patiently but the pain was too great.

“Well,” he explained.
“Being in a bind is like when someone is having a really hard time and they need help, but no one can help them.”

“Why don’t you ask God for help,” asked the little girl.
The father felt the anger swell.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think God can help me.”
“Sure he can, Daddy. You just have to ask him just like I have to ask him when I need help.”

Just then, the father’s mask slipped enough for him to reveal his frustration.

The father said, “I did ask.”
He told his little girl with tears in his eyes.
“I asked God to help me pay the bills.”
“I asked him to help me keep the lights on in my business.”

The man continued.
He tried not to lose himself completely.
But the emotions were too thick to avoid.

The man said, “I asked God to help me save my business so the men who worked for me could still feed their families.”
He said, “And I asked him to help us with the house. But did He answer? No!”
He was fighting back the cries.
“Did God help me?”
Then he stopped.
The man stopped because he realized this was wrong.
He realized that all his little girl did was love him.
And she did love him too.
She loved him perfectly and faithfully, without fear or concern.

The little girl sweetly looked at her father.
She smiled at him with all the faith and love in her eyes.
There was no fear of him letting her down.
She showed no worries because in her heart, she knew her Daddy always takes care of her.

Sweetly enough, the little girl offered, “Maybe that’s because God said no, Daddy. Just like you have to tell me no sometimes.”

“You’re right sweet pea.”

“I love you.”

(I cried while writing this to you.)

I am a man of troubled faith. I am a man of sin, but then again, I am man aware of the ideas that it is within us to sin. Therefore, I am human.
I am imperfect and broken.
I am hardened to a fault, to say the least and yet, I know I am loving.

I know that I have love in my heart. I know that I have the ability to rise or to get back up when I fall.
I have prayed as well and yes, I understand there are times when God says no.
I understand this the same as I have had to say no for reasons that are only known to me.

I am thinking of the saying, “Don’t take no for an answer.”
I wonder if this is the way to be.
What does this mean for someone who refuses to take no for an answer?

What does this mean for the person who can’t take no for an answer but yet, the word “no,” seems to come often, but they somehow advance and get all they’ve ever dreamed – but how?

What does this mean when I ask the question, “so, what’s it gonna take?” and what should I do when the answer is “nothing” but I can’t take that for an answer?

I have been in battles and lost.
I have been through all kinds of bankruptcy.
I’ve gone through emotional bankruptcy.
I have lived through personal, financial, and social bankruptcy as well. And above all, I am no stranger to the pains of romantic and marital bankruptcy.
I know them all too well.

I have lost houses before.
I have lost jobs. I have lost friends and companions.
I have lost time and love and money and blood, and sweat.
And yes, I have lost a fair share of tears along the way.

But as for the question, “what’s it gonna take?”
I think I know the answer to this.
Even if the answer to my questions is “no”, and even if my goals or my dreams are unlikely or impossible, I know that I cannot stop or give up, or give way.
I just can’t.
I have to go for this or die trying.

I might have to regroup.
I might have to change my plans or adjust my sights. I might have to wipe the tears from my eyes so that I can see clearly—but I know there is love out there for me.

I might not know what the next chapter holds. And I might be in the thick of an adverse time—but life is life, business is business, and adversity is meant to test the soul and keep us strong.

I have been tested.
I have measured as well, and perhaps I have come up short.

But God . . .
I am still here somehow, and I am still here with you.
I’m still reaching out to you every morning.
I’m still praying even when the answers are not what I asked for.

I am not taking no for an answer.
I never will.
I am not giving in either.

I refuse to give up or let all of what you and I have gone through be the weight that holds me back or keeps us from going forward.

I love you far more than the pain hurts me, and therefore, this means I have work to do because I can’t take no for an answer. And I can’t let pain slow me down.

Even if your answer is “no,” you and my dreams mean way too much

(To me)