I’ve misplaced and lost things along the way. Some I’ve found, others just a memory now. I used to think the most important things I lost were things I could put a dollar value on. Life has a way of teaching us that the things that have the most value can’t be bought or replaced.

When dusk settled on that fall evening and I heard my mom calling me, I knew the best part of my day was over. I grabbed my homemade flag; an old garage towel duct taped to a seven-foot crooked tree branch by my eight-year-old hands and headed home.

I shot a wary glance around our neighborhood to make sure no one was watching when I nestled my flag into the snail laden and unmaintained flower bed in front of our house.

The next day I found the kid that stole it. I beat him up and took my flag back. I discovered that a flag isn’t near as fun when you’re all alone.

I wasn’t as lucky with my Christmas bike. Once it was gone it was gone forever. Same with some guns and trucks later on in life.

Some things you lose and don’t even realize it… at first. That happened with my wallet once. Same with my innocence. I didn’t even know it was gone or missing until it was too late. It’s the inevitable taste of regret that you can’t spit out. You have to swallow it whole. Not knowing it’ll take a lifetime to digest.

A few months back I came up missing something else, not realizing the underlying cause. It was like when you go looking for your favorite book. You search high and low to no avail.

Over the last few months, I periodically posted portions of an old unfinished manuscript. It was sorta like the MC tap dancing to fill time till the main act shows up. Problem is, I lost my muse.

a very short time

image courtesy of photo bucket.com

I don’t know if my muse is male or female or something else. All I know for sure is that he or she or it is gone.

Sometimes it’s not the desire or passion that keeps us going. Now and then we have to rely on perseverance… because there is nothing else.

In the down times were forced to reflect. It is in the rough patches we tend to ponder, to reflect, to count the cost, consider the reasons for our droughts.

Seven years ago this month was another time of loss. The worst kind of loss – that of a loved one. It was May 7th, 2010. My dad was taken not only to a “better place”, but the Best place. That doesn’t mean there is no sadness.

There is grieving in this life. It’s God’s way of reminding us that no one gets out alive. It’s our sad understanding that there is no perfection in this flesh. That comes after this is past.

In times like these we remind ourselves, as Believers, that the things of the greatest value can’t be lost, only Divinely separated for a very short time.