memories of being infected with the love of Christ

i don’t want to make this a comprehensive account of my memories. i’m just grasping for links right now to my strongest recollections of what it was like to be young and possessed with a love of this spirit we called “Jesus”. i’m not writing this as a Christian who has explainable memories. i’m writing this as a skeptic and agnostic that remembers there being something overwhelmingly convincing about making mental concessions that convinced me that this spiritual being named Jesus could affect emotional changes in my life.

there was a time before i “believed” in this man’s name, then there was the time after i began believing. and i recall there being a dramatic change in the ways that i felt about everything after that change occurred. the time before i allowed this spirit to infect me, i was following a path of maturity towards becoming a hard nosed bully. i grew up in a city of bullies and went to school with bullies. i knew no one that was not hard nosed, nor that was not affected by other hard nosed men. this is not entirely true. i knew of some girls that were gentle and seemed kindly, but i was not close to any of them. also, i had a couple of teachers that were kindly. it was hard to appreciate their gentleness though because of the hard nosed personality the children of our city were governed by.

this hard nosedness came from our fathers, our uncles, our older brothers, and our classmates mainly. we would always hit each other, tease each other, belittle each other. there was no system of support or camaraderie. well, this is not entirely true, but it was the trend and it was overwhelming. i didn’t want to be a bully but i couldn’t help but fall prey to the control of the system. i had to learn to defend myself or i would be beat to a pulp. it was the way of the world.

i lucked out in two ways. i had two best friends that lived on my street; Louie and Gerry. these were guys that i spent years getting to know and developed a familiarity and camaraderie with, all before the age of 12. can you imagine that? boys being trusting friends that could talk about their dreams and the desire to love? i think it was really amazing, now that i think back on it. the other way i lucked out was in being adventurous enough to try to learn gymnastics. sometimes there are things in life that you just find you have a natural ability, or gift for. this was my first gift. i was not superman strong as a pre-teen boy but i had a knack for being able to move my body in artistic and creative ways. i took to the bars and tumbling like a daredevil and developed a crazy-man sense of joi-de-vivre that only a couple other boys seemed to be able to muster. one boy in particular, Nelson, was gargantuan in musculature and was a natural at old school gymnastics tricks like muscle ups and iron crosses; yes, even for a 12 year old he was huge. he became another close companion that treated me with respect. another gymnast boy was Robert. a real gentle spirit with doe eyes but brave on the parallel bars and high bar. he always made me think of a poet. all four of these fellows i have lost track of in adulthood. i wonder how their lives have transpired. i wonder if they ever became infected with the love of Christ like i did.

i left that town after a tragedy struck my family. the death of my father. not a story that i want to expand upon now, but it is important to mention as a landmark event in the opening up of my horizons for the search for a force to fill a void in my life. leaving that town gave me a clean slate, in a way. i did not realize that in my new city i would not need to continue to be bully-ish, even though it took me some time for those old habits to die out.

i didn’t feel hopeful that a new city would make life become a dream. i really had no idea what the future would hold for me. (too much detail, way too early and i’m running out steam before i even get to the heart of what i wanted to talk about. damn. i guess i’ll try again tomorrow…)