A Journey Worth Journaling (a short, but very descriptive, story)

Time was running out; however, I had no choice but to wait. To be completely honest, this particular journey couldn’t take place without a Good Samaritan offering some reasonable amount of assistance. I was not beat up, robbed, and left for dead as the parable goes. I had not been defeated. I just reached a point in the road where I could journey no more on my own. I made it this far. It was the end of another day. I had planned on finishing strong and carrying on with the strength God gives me, and yet I couldn’t reach my full desired destination until another willing person loaned their legs.

So, it began with stillness. Although we use the expression, “Time is standing still.”, we know that the hour hand of the clock is still moving, maybe not as fast as we would like or quick enough for our eyes to detect it, but it does not stop. The earth does not stop spinning around the sun. Besides, there was purpose even in the waiting. Over the years of my life journey I have gained patience [not the ability to wait, but how to act while waiting] (Gal. 5:22 AMP). I sat with determination, fully aware that the payoff was worth waiting for and the required payment was not an assigned amount of money. It would not be bought with cash or credit, but only acquired with an accumulation of minutes upon minutes. While investing in those minutes I thought about the years gone by and how long I’ve lived so far. The older I get the faster things seemed to move far beyond me and my life.

Wasn’t it yesterday I was eight years old,
a pocket full of rocks that I knew were made of solid gold? There were girls to be hated, trees to be climbed, forts to be built, there was so much time. There’s nothing in the world like being fifteen! Your pockets are empty, but your head is full of dreams; of girls to be loved, places to see.
It’s the best and the worst, just my friends and me and we were anything we wanted to be, the words from an old song by Geoff Moore, “It’s Good To Be Alive” echoed in the musical sections of my mind. Now I’m an old man, from the perspective of my own children who range in age from 11 to 27. My steady stroll, now at a halt, and yet my mind rolled on, an endless water fall mixed with some debri of fallen trees, sticks and stones that weighed so little they were caught in the rushing force of the water, pushing over the edge. I’m sure that anyone observing me saw calmness and peace, unaware of the many turmulant thoughts churning within. The spectator was not completely wrong in their assumptions. Along with the house racing thoughts was the jockey keeping the animal under control. How else was I to entertain my brain while waiting? Until I was offered some much needed elbow grease from a willing participant I occupied my mind with whatever thoughts flowed through. Although I can move at a faster pace than most people can walk I’ve learned to live with my own disabilities from the perspective that I am only limited by my surroundings. When floating on rafting waters you’re swept up by the current and your security lies only in the ability to use the ore as a rudder. I’m currently striving to reach a level of acceptance that I am only granted access to certain things by the degree, level, or allowance of accessibility. I heard a fellow handicapped person say, “You know, we’re not disabled it is the environment that causes our ability or inability to do certain things. If there is no accessibility how can we have access?” If the ramp that was before me right now was just a few degress less intence I could make the climb on my own. With enough efforts of my own I would easily be able to excel, covering the ground before me. I recalled back when I was playing the drums for various bands at a variety of venues. Often I’d see signs blocking off certain areas back stage that would read, “Authorized Personnel Only.” I’d smile & think, ‘It’s okay, I’m with the band.’ On the other hand if a spectator were to enter, who knows what may happen to them. If caught perhaps they’d be denied access to the whole venue, front, middle, & back stage would all be off limits. They may even be escorted off the property. From where I sat I pictured other docks I’ve visited. Some had a fence & a locked gate. No one could enter unless they had a key or until that gate was unlocked for them. Some boardwalks even had turn style entrances after the gate. They were often very narrow, followed by the bars that rotate and count each person who enters, much like an amusement park. Most adults needed to turn sideways to get through it. In those cases I’m always relieved when they direct me to a special, wider entrance off to the side, one that allowed access for a wheelchairs, baby carriages, and perhaps maintenance carts. I recalled other example regarding accessibility. Back when I was able to drive some roads had, ‘Do Not Enter’ Signs accompanied by a thin horizontal pole that only went vertical when an official authorized guard flicked a small lever from within their small hut. Other entrances were more narrow than that of the average car. Places like that caused you to get out, leave your automobile behind, & journey on by foot. These thoughts flew through my mind like a stampede of people bum-rushing the front of a stage at a festival they had waited for all year. Within just a few second the thoughts entered & made their exit again, much quicker than the time it takes to write it all out or for you to read it. For me, right now, right here, I sat, as my dad would describe, “Like a bump on a log.” I knew the angle of elevation was to great for me to conquer. I knew because I’ve tried and retried it several times before. I knew where I wanted to go and if help didn’t show I could accept staying right here where I am, at the end of the shore which was the beining of it as well, depending on which way you were intending to go. My intention was to head off the shore & leave it behind, not by way of boat but by using the pier jetting out from the land into the vast deep body of water. I’m no couch potato, no lazy lump, but nerve damage has a way of rendering me helpless. I questioned my ability and felt a slight nag to do more than I do. I challenged my disability to be more than I am. I desired a quick level up, a quick inclined boosting up and onto the short ramp that was the starting line of this fishing dock.

It wasn’t too terribly long until someone came along within earshot. I gave a loud, but polite, “Excuse me!”, call for their help. Almost without any more words or instructions they noticed my situation and jumped into serve as a catalyst, getting behind me and catapulting my main mode of transportation upward & onward. I thanked them, the one who offered their ability where my ability was limited. They obliged and asked if I needed any more help. I assured them I’d be fine from here on out, not even considering how I’d get back down the ramp upon my return.

I continued on, self-propelling my wheelchair over the lined up wooden planks. I noted how the sun casted dancing shadows via the mangled, tangled tree branches. The current of the lake moved in the opposite direction that I was coasting. I looked up and forward to avoid any sense of motion sickness. The boards of the dock, although intended to provide a smooth walk way, had naturally warpped, battle wounds from their war with the elements. None of them raised up to the point of stopping me, they were merely small bumps that slowed the speed and fluidity of my four wheels. The small front wheels trembled & shook like someone vigorously shaking their head in the obvious nonverval objection shouting, “NO!” The larger wheels provided the leverage required to push the much smaller front wheels, pushing them forward from behind, no matter how confused & distressed they faulted from side to side. I felt the resistance but carried on with persistence to reach the wider opening where the dock came to an end. Once there, I spun around to look back at the one who initially assisted me. They were gone. I looked around but they were no where to be see. Not surprisingly, they had moved on with whatever mission they were driven to complete after accomplishing their role in offering just a few seconds of compensation.

As I sat alone at the end of the old wooden dock that stretched its way out into the lake it took me a few moments to catch the breath that slightly escaped me. I was thankful that there was no sign of rain and that the wood was not wet from previous rain. Surely, by now, even the morning dew had been dried up and evaporated by the sun that dutifully sucked up as much moisture as it could in order to send it back down onto the earth as needed. I recalled times when the path I was on was wet & slippery. In those kind of conditions my wheels, as well as my hands, found it extra difficult to get a grip and maintain traction. Those conditions make it so challenging to stay in control.

As I regained control of my breathing, in and out, in and out, more steadily now; I felt a gentle breeze blow across my warm tan face, then down my chest, arms, and legs. I felt the light brush against the hair growing on my limbs. It was as if a breath from above covered me from my head right down to my toes. That same breeze had been reaching the land, but somehow, out here it was stronger. It was here that my awareness of it was confirmed. This slight wind brought with it great comfort. I’m consistently familiar with feeling the air & wind around me, gliding on four wheels everywhere I go. Sometimes, if the wind is at my back I can reach top speeds with little effort from my arms. If the wind bolws against me strong enough I’m not able to move forward at all.

Out here on the open water the air flow carried with it a certain determined, deliberate, yet still subtle force, unobstructed by trees or any other onshore obstructions or obstacles.

I thought, just for a moment, of some of the indifferent restrictions and hardships we all faced on land as we encounter & engage ourselves with people, places, and things that attempt to discourage, confine or limit our zeal for life. The war between creativity and chaos was constant, even during times of rest and relaxation. Everyone faces some type of shadowing figure that, like a wet blanket on a fire, is in a consistent attempt to over power them. Perhaps some felt the hampering more than others but there is no question as to the legitimacy that,

“life is hard & the struggle is real, but for me so is God.”

The grueling giants of everyday life belched out loud enough to be heard no matter where we are. That was a fleeting thought that I dare not dwell on. After all, I knew that if the fire is larger than the amount of dampness thrown at it the fire is not overcome by the water, but rather it burns on, evaporating & disposing of any thing that attempts to snuff it out. Like the li’l boy David, if the sling and stone are propelled by my faith in The One True God of all things created the shot was secure and there was no way the adversary could keep me from winning the war.

We are destined to win in Him.

As victorious as that train of thought was at barreling its way through my mind I jumped off that thread as I closed my eyes taking in a new, deep, fresh breath, held it for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled. I heard the soft lap of the water as it reached the shoreline, and as it made ripples around the pilings of the pier. I could not see the water under the dock but I knew it was there. It was all around me. I listened to its subtle approach and contact with the thick wooden logs holding up the structure that was allowing me to be out here on top of this lake. The lake water wasn’t fresh, it had a certain amount of salt from the gulf mixed in with it. I stayed dry, although I knew if the dock gave way, if the piling didn’t hold, I’d fall in & get soaked.

I was also now aware that there was moisture in the air. Having grown up in the high humidity of Florida, many times I was oblivious to its effects. Those not accustomed to it would comment how, just stepping out into it they felt sweat filling their shirt. Again, although I could not see the moist air, I felt its presence caressing my skin. It was like soft moistened kisses. For me it was not a hampering or annoyance. I prefer the heat and humidity.

As the heavy air swept across my skin, and closed in on my personal poxcimty, I thought of things we are not able to see, but able see the effects of; like wind that turned a mill or a satellite dish grasping sound waves and pictures out of the air, invisible waves sent from who knows where. The dish is able to catch those images and sounds because the message sent is aimed for that particular dish. After being shot up into outter space, bouncing off panels up there, the intended target is reached within a few seconds, coming to rest at its final destination. Only then can the unseen & unheard waves be seen & heard. As quickly as those images & thoughts filtered through my mind they were gone again.

I opened my eyes so that I could stare with anticipation at the top of the tall black pole fixed to the end of the dock. It was almost time. Yes, it was almost time. I knew that soon the light at the top would be coming on. I had no idea where the hands on the face of my watch landed; however, the environment around me forecasted the timing of what was about to happen next. Like a prophet, nature was letting me know what was coming. It was time for the day to surrender to the night and I was blessed enough to be here to witness it. I take nothing for granted. I had longed for this simple moment, waiting with great eagerness and expectations. Was the light going to work as it was intended to?

Just then, as if by some sort of magic, the light flicked on. I was fully aware that it was not by my will, nothing I had done turned it on. I did not flip a switch, project a force of positive electricity from my mind, or some how summon it. There was no great wizard behind a veil pulling levers and pushing buttons, or was there? I smiled & thought, there is a wonderful wizard of sorts but His powers were very real and for me there was no longer a veil keeping me from seeing Him. I returned my cognitive mind to the lamp post. The device had an electric eye. It was made with a sensor that some how reacted when its surroundings reach a certain level of darkness. Even though, out here in the water, it was still hooked up to the source that gave it the ability to work. The wires were insulated and securely connected to an even larger grid so that its charge could be conducted properly, flowing all the way to the extent of its furthest points. The light post was ordered by its point of supply, causing it to click on and show up in the blink of an eye, faster than the sun dropping completely below the tree line.

Beyond the provision of the new artificial light I breathed in the new masive array of colors that were now brushing across the sky above, just as the water spralled out underneath me. Oh, the variety of colors: pinks, yellows, oranges, peaches. I found it hard to clarify, categorize, pin point, or lable the specific names for some of the colors. There was no limit to them as they blended together so smoothly and faded from one into the next with such perfection. The hues between the colors remained unattainable to my grasp and seemed to change as quickly as the light post came on. The longer I looked the more I was able to make mental notes on the master piece being comprised before me. It was as if God had a palette where He mixed the 3 primary colors into secondary colors and more. Then, with a big wide brush, He was reapplying those highlights to the sky in order to share His artistic creation with anyone willing to stop, look up, & notice. The pallet was most likely a smear of dirty greys but the canvas of the sky depicted just the right touch of artistic flare.

The water was calm and served, without fail, as a mirror to reflect everything around it. There was no possible way for the mass of water to fail as an echo of its surroundings.

As I looked up at the lamp at the top of its pole, giving off a warm amber light, I noticed the darkening sky beyond it holding the moon in its place. It becaming brighter and brighter as it reacted to the sun I just witnessed disappearing from my sight. In this stillness, just as stationary as the moon, my mind was still flooded and running with thoughts of ancient ship Captain’s navigational skills setting masive sails to drive their ships in the right direction. On the sketchbook pages in my mind I watched as they used nothing more than a compass, a sexton, and wisdom on how to read the coordinates mapped out in the celestial stars above. The words from an old classic rock song drifted by with an arrangement, a slightly customized adjustment, all of my own. My skull became a concert hall cranium. In my head I could hear the melody right along with the full band of instrumental accompaniment as well. On the stage behind my forehead the lead singer belted out, “You can be the Captain, let God draw the charts, sailing into destiny Closer to the heart.” Then another artist’s word’s blended in from an old interview I once heard regarding his song, Dust In The Wind. Kerry Livgren said he wish he had changed the lyrics from, “Nothing last forever but the earth and sky” to, “Nothing last forever but the word of God.” I heard Kerry picking his accoustic guitar as he worked through each echoing chord’s modulation. While one part of my mind heard music in the private areas of my own brain my eyes pulled in the vastness of space above this planet. It was time, once again, for my busy little brain to quickly shifted it’s rudders as I heard a whisper in my soul, just a whisper bidding,

“Go. Sail. Go sail on in through the narrow gate, the narrow channel, that flows into true life, true life.”

It was not a booming low voice as Hollywood would predict. No, it was soft & smooth, gently bubbling up from within my soul.

My eyes saw the light of the lamp post beacon like that of a lighthouse in a safe harbor while my ears heard this beckoning from somewhere within the boundries of my own inner man. The sound was internal, different from any external noise, let alone voices, I had ever heard from earth’s various creatures and fellow human beings . I had not completely shut out the sounds of the winds teasing the leaves & branches of the trees on shore. The occasional duck quacks, seagull’s call, and now the beginning of insect’s chirping were still externally present while these internal words spike clearly, in my language. Although serine, they were directly purpose driven.

I longed to get to true life, something beyond the pain, sorrow, frustrations, & agumentative, indifferent ways of society around me. I knew there was a way of life that offers true satisfaction, one that gave me reason to live. It was the only life that gave me real, lasting: peace, joy, love, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control, faithfulness, and the ability to endure longsuffering. The life I live now, in addition to the life that is still yet to be seen, is a gift, a treasured gift I had accepted and opened long ago. It was no longer a buried treasure. I had been following maps for years and struck it spiritual rich when I personally discovered, recovered, what was beneath the cross. I knew that it could not be bought with money, it had to be found, and accepted, when it was offered. The price for it was paid for by God Himself. I learned that the cost was the life of His Son. I really believe this. Therefore, because He died for me I was willing to live for Him, take up this treasure with its once lost pearls of wisdom and share it with others still searching for it. It was not only given to me, but expressed through me as I’ve always willingly shared with great excitement with those all around me. I had not re-buried it. I knew the value of the gold nuggets in this chest of treasure, how they offered a soul sustaining life. Riding down this river of life with the treasure chest full of gems, flowing in me and springing up and out of me has been an important part of my journey; an yet, I still carried with me times that felt less like being on a dry dock in pleasing weather with this flowing fountain quenching my soul and more like: walking through a desolate dreary desert, being strainded out on a stormy sea, or wandering around on a deserted island all alone. The lesson pain & turmoil had been teaching me lately was to appreciate my creator at all times, in every season. We all have our limits and sometimes all we can do is tread water to keep our heads above the waves. Oh, how we confuse our physical issues with our spiritual well being. I’ve been learning more & more that my pain receptors and the natural chemical make-up of my own physical mind, along with the current nerve damage in my own body, could cause an apparent dilemma.

We should never confuse physical pain & mental anguish as an indicator of God’s presence and absence.

Certain feeling, at times, attempt to warp my perception of what really mattered; however, they (the perspective my feelings offered) are not an acurate picture that help clarified the reality that all of this was just for a time, just a season that would come, go, and eventually change into something much more pleasing in-line with God’s perfect plan. Just as the earth moved causing the sun to rise, travel across the sky and set again, so also it was me that moved, not the Son of God. He never changes. He remains the same, never slummbers or sleeps. It was only with spiritual sight & insight that I could attain & remain in fellowship with Him no mater what time it is, no matter how cold or dark it gets. Again, a song came drifting through, When The Son Begins To Reign. The title alone says it all.

How humanly possible is it for us to complete several tasks at once? How many can we do all at the same time? How many thoughts can race through the complexity of our minds, and how fast can they travel? All these fleeting thoughts dissolved as my creator helped me focus on the one main fact that I am in His care, and not only I but everything. He has the answers. There are many things I don’t know, many things I will never know. There is a lot of comfort in the fact that there are an infinite amount of questions I don’t need to know the answer to. I just need to trust that God does. I’m not required to earn some degree of intelligence. I have nothing to prove. I have nothing worthy enough to purchase what He has to offer. Even my best righteousness is like filthy, dirty rags of blood, compared to His glorious pure robes. He is the treasure, the boat, the safe harbor, the dock, the rock. He is the gate and the gate keeper. He is the shepherd that divides, seperates, the goats from the sheep. He is all this and more. It was because of Him I’ve been working, functioning under His timing and complete control. I accept the fact that He has His reasons for what we perceive as disasters.

I can’t understand all that God plans, but

I hold the hand of The One who can.

I don’t know what the future holds,

but I know who holds the future.

He has one eye on the sparrow and the other in the eye of a hurricane (song Necessary Pain by Dogs of Peace).

Although certain circumstances, events, and things I’ve been experiencing often feel like they are lasting a life time, it is all temporary, just another piece to the puzzle. I know the reality that amidst the confusion there is a certain amount of comfort deep down where we are able to keep clinging to the never ending riches of a lifetime. I smiled. Assuredly I had truly reached the depth of success & the sense, no the certainty of, completion directly from God’s supernatural Holy Spirit like only He could give. Althought that is true to a degree (that I hold a certainty of completeness) even now, I know that I have not yet reached the final finish line. I was mearly at another milestone marking my long distance run, experiencing God lifting me up to carry me the rest of the way over the broken, jagot route under my feet. Looking back I can see one set of footprints in the sand, His. Figuratively He runs but literally He has already ran and completed the race. Now I let Him run my life so that I am destined to win. Oh, how I desire for others to simply see the lifestyle of Christ in me, blended as beautifully as the colors in that sky that were rapidly drifting into darkness. I want my life to reflect him as the lake mimics the sky. Before I fade away, before I am taken from everyone’s sight I want to shine. I cry for Christ, The Son of God, to reign, to light me up as the sun illuminates the moon.

The sky was a deep purple now. In the distance I could see signs of rain, maybe moving closer, the deeper purple rain streaked downward, it almost looked like a swam of locas forming a rectangular box in just that one area of the sky. Once again I brought my focus to The Father of creation as mother earth received from Him the right doses of natural elements for sustainability. For me nature cries out, it’s voice singing the praises of it’s Creator.

When I was just a teenager, I called out to Him because I heard Him calling me to follow Him to this true life. He promises an eternal existence, one beyond what I know in this life. I’ve been born again & hold with confidence that when I eventually step through death’s doorway I will then enter into another form of life. He is my anchor. To this day I believe what He says.

The voice went on to give deeper explaination,

“The wide gate is easy to go through. The wide path is easy to travel on. Many people find that wide gate, but it is the way to destruction. It only leads to death.”

I sat and listened as the whisper continued to not only persuade me, but give me rational explanations that were very familiar to what my grandmother had told me sos manyyears ago.

It is difficult to go through the small gate. It is difficult to walk on the narrow road. But when you do go that way, you will get to true life. It leads you there. Not many people find that narrow gate.’
(Matthew 7:13‭-‬14)

Now, under this lamp post, I was allotted only enough light to see what was right there on my very lap. There was nothing but darkness all around. I opened my Bible, God’s Word, a lamp unto my feet, a light unto my path and I read John chapter 10:

Jesus went on to say, ‘I am telling you what is true. A shepherd keeps his sheep in a safe place with a wall round it. There is a gate into that safe place. Anyone else who gets into that place by another way, not through the gate, is not the shepherd . That person is a robber. He comes to take away the sheep that are not his. The shepherd goes in through the gate. The person who watches the gate opens it for the shepherd . The sheep recognise the shepherd’s voice. He calls each of his own sheep by their name and he leads them out. When he has brought out all his own sheep, he goes in front of them. The sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger. They will run away from a stranger because they do not recognise his voice.’ Jesus told them this story like a picture to teach them. But they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So Jesus spoke again. He said, ‘I am telling you what is true. I am like the gate for the sheep. All other men who ever came to the sheep before me were like robbers. But the sheep did not listen to them. I am like the gate. Everyone who comes in through me will be safe. They will be free to come in and to go out. And they will find plenty of food.

The robber only wants to take away my sheep. He wants to kill them. He comes only to destroy them. But I have come so that they can have true life. And so that they can have everything that they need.

I am the good shepherd . The good shepherd would die so that he can save his sheep. Another man may work with sheep so that he gets money. But the sheep are not his own. A man like that is not the shepherd. If a wolf comes, a man like that runs away. When he sees the wolf , he leaves the sheep and he runs away. Then the wolf attacks the sheep. It causes them to run away in all directions. That man runs away because the sheep are not his own. The sheep do not really matter to him.

I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep, and they know me. I know them in the same way that my Father knows me. And they know me in the same way that I know the Father.

I will die so that I can save my sheep. I have other sheep also, and I must bring them too. They do not belong to this group of sheep. But they also will listen to my voice. So, all the sheep will become one group, and they will have one shepherd. The Father loves me because I choose to die for my sheep. But after I give my life like that, I will become alive again. Nobody can take my life from me. Instead, I myself choose to die. I have authority to do that. I also have authority so that I can become alive again. My Father has said that I must do that.’
John 10:1‭-‬18 EASY

I stopped reading to ponder for a bit.

I though of my only faceless friend, a spiritual shepherd who I can’t hear audibly, can’t see physically, can’t know mentally, and yet trust completely. We’re dealing with another rehlm, a different Kind of Kingdom. Just as there was more beyond the darkness and clouds above me there is more than meets our eyes here on earth. There is a war for unseen souls that often slips from our human minds or at times isn’t even considered. We need to hold onto living with Hebrews 11 type faith. The chains around our naturally, inherently rebellious, & deliberately disobedient attitudes, can not be seen or held with our hands; and yet, as long as we are alive on this earth that force claims a certain hold on us, no relief given in hopes of escapes. While dwelling in our earth suit of skin & bones there is no way to deny the continual erosion of our physical well being. Backed by Words of my Heavenly Father I don’t lose heart, no! Rather, I trust God. We can be sure about the things that we hope for. We can be sure in our minds about things that we cannot even see
(Hebrews 11:1).

I fanned through the pages of my copy of His Word to the overly highlighted & marked up section of 2 Corinthians 4:16 NIV, “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”

I looked above and below the verse and read, “So physical death is [actively] at work in us, but [spiritual] life [is actively at work] in you. Yet we have the same spirit of faith as he had, who wrote in Scripture, “I believed , therefore I spoke .” We also believe, therefore we also speak, knowing that He who raised the Lord Jesus will also raise us with Jesus and will present us [along] with you in His presence. For all [these] things are for your sake, so that as [God’s remarkable, undeserved] grace reaches to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of [our great] God. Therefore we do not become discouraged [spiritless, disappointed, or afraid]. Though our outer self is [progressively] wasting away, yet our inner self is being [progressively] renewed day by day.

For our momentary, light distress [this passing trouble] is producing for us an eternal weight of glory [a fullness] beyond all measure [surpassing all comparisons, a transcendent splendor and an endless blessedness]! So we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen; for the things which are visible are temporal [just brief and fleeting], but the things which are invisible are everlasting and imperishable.

I pictured a gigantic water wheel connected to an old wooden building. I could see the water flowing under it, turning the humongous paddles fixed to that wheel. My mind allowed me to see through the walls to look inside that old mill house that had the wheel fixed to its outter wall. I watched as the wheel revoled it inturn cranked gears within the mill. Like an old steam paddle boat that converts water into steam which forces its way through to turn vertical rudders. The very water its on is channeled properly to propelle it forward.

Pushing everything else aside, this is what I came here for. This is what I was waiting for so expectantly. This journey was definitely worth journaling.

To be continued.

You can also check out the song above, See The Sun Again by Pfr, on Amazon Music

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