God and Wine

I willingly awoke at 3:30 this morning to the whispers of Agnus Dei bathing in my brain: "Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. Dona nobis pacem. -> Lamb of God, you who take away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. Grant us peace." This morning I (re)claim and declare peace. As much as I'd like to wish 2014 "adieu", I've decided to hold out for promises yet fulfilled; and I will fight the good fight to reclaim my joy...my life...myself, until the ticking of the clock rings anew. I want to say "it is finished" and mean it-- to painfully revel in this year filled with countless beautiful moments paralleled by gut-wrenching despair, incredible achievements matched with insurmountable heartache. I still have faith that in the final quarter of this Julian year, hopes and dreams will find me and meet me at the alter of my fears. We'll eclipse all self-doubt and worry as we journey to peace, together. Pacem

October 5th Kansas City, MO I was sitting out by a water fountain just beyond the Country Club Plaza in Kansas City, MO, when I noticed a man, barefoot and walking in the knee-high deep, rich blue water. He was fishing for coins, and looked frazzled and frustrated with his findings (or the lack thereof). He wasn't disturbing anybody or begging for money. His shoulder length dirty blonde hair and thin body resembled that of the white Jesus of the Renaissance paintings, or a 20th century "Hollywood Jesus." But this man, the wanderer, walked in water--not on it--and certainly didn't look like the well put-together, commercialized Jesus we know. His thinness bordered frailty, his mind seemed absent from his body, his clothes, ragged.  A man and his wife were sitting on a bench across from me with their two young children. I saw them, too, watching this man--the wanderer. They got up to leave and I assumed that they, like many (myself included), would ignore thi