We're starting a fund drive to order His Will products; to this point its been out of pocket bringing items in hence extended periods where we have no product hahaha here is a link to where you can help were you so inclined :) all proceeds from the sales of His Will items go straight into the recovery ministry at Central United. http://www.indiegogo.com/hiswill?a=793584 - Every dollar helps and goes a long way! Thank you.
“God knew baby…” I said face buried in my hands, voice shaky and uncertain.
“He knew what David?” “Everything…He knows everything…”I leaned back in the old wooden deck chair, the floor and chair creaked in unison, the spider webs sprawled across the beams above my head dancing in the slight breeze, “…from the most vital to the most seemingly insignificant detail…He really is everything at all times…there is nothing too small for Him or too large…” I smiled through the fog of confusion which brilliantly turned to illumination only to quickly fade into murky water once again, as my voice trailed off into the starry night’s sky and my eyes wandered to the cobwebs above my head. We were sitting on the deck of our private cabin; tucked into the woods just north of Canmore proper. It was late summer and though the air was pleasant, soothing, and free of any chill I knew that summer would not last as I caught the jagged mountain peaks cutting black lines across the sky… just as this recognition would soon dissipate from my mind and I would sink back into the bottom I had dug out for myself. There would be moments when I wondered what it was that had my brain so mesmerized the day before, but it would pass, as I would fail to recollect just like the countless times before. I drank it away, drugged it away, fucked it away, and in the process I convinced myself that was life; tiny pieces of fleeting information gathered by the subconscious, held tightly prisoner in a darkened corner of the silent brain never to be seen again. I cringed with the thought that I could never recall with sufficient force the entire memory with which to affect any sort of lasting change from one day to the next. While at the very same instant I recognized that I should write it down, the ego convinced me I would remember so I shrugged it off…despite all evidence to the impossibility of memory… I turned my face to her, as my eyes were like rocks in their sockets, and I stared into her for what seemed like hours as I waited for a response; we sat arm’s length apart on the dimly moonlit porch and I traced the lines of her prematurely weathered face... The smoke curled from her lips, as she teased with the notion of exhaling fully; instead she allowed the smoke to seep slowly from her lungs, up her throat, and into the night’s sky where it separated and disappeared into nothingness. She glanced at me through the corner of her eye and I looked down to the rotting wooden floor boards; then she smiled the same smile that turned everyone’s eyes to her in any given setting and said, “Well of course He does David…”I felt her eyes search the side of my head, “He is God.” The words slithered into my frontal lobe and as they made their way through my brain, my face twisted and contorted, as though some demon had wrenched its way from deep within my guts in an attempt to stop the spread. Instead of letting out a cry in pain, I broke out in a slight yet somewhat disturbing maniacal laugh that caused mild alarm to ring out in every vein, artery, and vessel. Under my breath I muttered, ‘of course He does…He is God…’ the laughing ceased immediately…the simplicity and truth of her words clipped my heart and I momentarily felt more peace and calm than I could remember previously. It was terrifying. I muttered again, “Of course He does…”as though I should know this by now and perhaps I should have… and then the peace slipped away and she came to me, sitting on my lap she caressed my cheeks and started to kiss me; slowly at first, which turned into hungry, deep kisses leading her hands to slide down… That night, long ago now, seems like a different life entirely; seemingly profound thoughts came and went, fueled by drugs, insomnia, and a deeply haunting search for answers. The memories come now in sobriety and serve to remind me that God was always working in my life even though I was a distant planet orbiting just beyond the peripheral of my own soul; unable and unwilling to maintain contact. There was momentary recognition and momentary connection, but instead of digging in with all of the energy I could muster I sucked in more smoke, drowned in more poison, and watched the connection dwindle until I was bankrupt and felt no real connection to anything… God never left because God doesn’t leave, God loves and God remains. I ignored, turned away, made my choices and lived in the consequences of them, but God stayed, gently knocking at the door and occasionally finding that I had left it wide open for him… God is everything or He is nothing… What a complete mind blowing statement and question. It baffled me at first and in so many ways it continues to steer my head in strange and wonderful new directions that I rarely understand yet cling too because they make more sense than the old pathways I travelled so many times. I do not know what it is like for others… I have moments today when I understand completely that God is everything; I feel His presence in every step, every decision, and every moment on any given day. I can hear Him whispering in the wind through the rustling of tree branches, hear the message of love and peace in the running river at my feet, and I can see glimpses of His smile when people walk by and our eyes meet for brief seconds in time. The days when I appear fearless, loving, confident, compassionate, certain, and free of worry and doubt are these in which I feel God close to me, within me and all around through constant prayer and work with others. When I fail to find judgment in my mind’s eye, I know without question that God is working through me and that is where I want to be. However, I am human and sometimes, often without warning, my mind and ego get stuck on the idea that God can only handle some things while I have to control aspects of my life that I don’t believe He can take care of. Those days when I pray and turn over half of my thoughts and worries while simultaneously thinking that I will keep this thing or that thing for myself, getting caught trying to walk with burdens that are not mine to carry. The whisper enters my mind like a gentle kiss, “God does the miracles. You do your foot work…” I must always put prayer into action or I feel the consequences and those consequences usually come in multiple forms of frustration, anger, bitterness, fear, doubt, mania, and depression to name a few. There are few things (outside of alcohol and drugs) that can derail my connection to God quicker than trying to control people, places, and things that are none of my business. When my ego gets running, the frustration sets in almost immediately today, thank God, and reminds me to slow down, get back to the drawing board and pray. The most beautiful feeling in the world to date is the sense of overwhelming peace circulating throughout my body… The moments when peace invades and cuts to shards worry, doubt, self-loathing, and fear increase in direct proportion to how often I turn my mind to prayer and a basic understanding of the phrase, “God is everything or God is nothing…” These moments are pure, absolute, and blinding beauty. It is no longer the brain deciphering what the eyes see - it is the soul, the spirit doing all of the sensory collection and translating it to what it really is; beauty, light, warmth, and love. There is no frantic seeking, accumulating, fretting, or doubt. It is a feeling of complete abandon and surrender into a place of freedom and wonder. But there is a moment of choice, at least for me there is… During those brief seconds, just as the mind starts racing, there comes a slight pause, which is initiated somewhere deep within the processor. A moment where I feel either the ability to follow the racing bullshit to its natural end of chaos, frustration, and melancholy or to choose reaching out to God and burying the pointless worry and negative thoughts in prayer and service to my fellows. As I type I wonder if it is that simple, but honestly, it is. Don’t get me wrong, it was not always thus and even today there are difficult moments with this, but today is today and the years of work, just as it is for others, have lead me to a life I never saw coming. To a position in the universe I never dreamt of; it is not above anyone else or below, it is exactly where I am supposed to be amongst the ranks of my fellows in a system that makes every piece vital to the whole. The prayers are many and sometimes appear scattered and seemingly incoherent in my own head, but I have learned because I have been and continue to be taught that the longer I practice, the more likely the mind is to slow down and make room for prayer or even just make room for the pause which initiates the choice to pray or not. The prayers are for others, whether friend or foe, to be blessed in countless ways, just as I have been so freely in God’s grace. They are for the understanding that whatever external desire, situation, person, consequence, and the likes which are causing my mind to react in frantic negative ways are well under God’s complete control. The silent prayer moves throughout my mind, “God’s got this man… God’s got it all under control…” The list goes on ad infinitum because God really is everything and I firmly believe from what I have seen that God can do anything at all without limits. Any limits He has are simply extensions of my own shortcomings and a product of my very limited imagination and intellect. Once I let God out of the box that I kept putting Him in, I was free to explore my faith and the world in the way I believe I was intended; with honesty, courage, faith, hope, forgiveness, understanding, and tolerance. These things do not happen all at once or overnight, they are a product of a process that unfolds the longer I remain clean and sober and dedicated to making a simple choice that was not always so simple. Choosing to pray instead of worry, praying for my enemies instead of cultivating bitterness and resentment, understanding that God has control of all of those things I do not and if I do not understand I pray for the understanding, and of course I ask for His guidance as I attempt to change the things I can because I must be an active participant in this life. As I sit here, gazing out my window to the sinking sun behind the western range of mountains; I see a clear, crisp summer night across the valley to the Three Sister’s mountain peaks. They stand looming, but not ominously, instead they smile upon the plains as a reminder of God’s incredible design and power…and with the right set of ears a person could hear them whispering, ‘God has it all under control.’ The very thought of those words brings a soft, gentle peace over top of me; I am free, I do not have to control, and I do not have to fight. I can surrender a little more with each breath in that wonderful knowledge… May you all be blessed, David W. Lewry It is time again to evaluate thoughts and feelings about a parent; this time however, it is my father…the funny thing to me is instantly my mind turns analytical when talking about my dad as opposed to emotional, which is the opposite when I think of my mother.
I find this humorous because between the two of them he is probably more sensitive and more emotional. However, this was not always evident to us boys who generally thought of him as God’s right hand and her as some sort of angel sent to keep wrath from raining down upon us… It was not that he walked around hostile and angry, it was that we were scared of him before he opened his mouth and terrified once he did, as kids due to the strength of his words and the imposing figure he presented when he spoke with conviction we had small alternatives but to feel a sense of fear. Despite his own childhood, adolescence and young adulthood he found a way to show us love to the best of his ability and normally it was pretty fair. It was not his fault that he is a large man with a massive voice and a faith that convinced us he knew something other people did not. The amount of expectation and responsibility he must have felt each and every moment would have been debilitating for most but he, like my mother, plowed forward and did everything he felt he had to do and when that was done he did more. He wanted to ensure that we had everything he did not. His story really is a modern day simile to the Horatio Alger drama. Perhaps his successes would be counted differently than those of Alger, but coming from where he did and the early choices he made in relation to those childhood circumstances there is little doubt that his main battle was a spiritual one from the very beginning. He worked hard as a father, husband, minister, and a student; although he would admit he was far from perfect, there is little doubt that between he and my mom the three of us boys have always had the kind of parents you could go home too no matter what and when you did, you always felt welcome, loved, and accepted. It is not uncommon for children to take their fathers for granted and I would have been quite guilty of this in my youth and into early adulthood. As matter of fact, I took nearly everything he did for granted; assumed it is what fathers were supposed to do and maybe they are supposed to, but once I reached sobriety at thirty, the veil was lifted and I recognized immediately that not all fathers were equal in their approach to fatherhood. By God’s grace, I recognized instantly that God had cared for me right from the start by selecting with no mistake, the people I would call mom and dad. As I started to get to know people in a clear, unfiltered way, I learned that how my father lived was somewhat extraordinary; the ability to balance all aspects of a life including children is something that I have rarely conceived of being capable. To me, dad has always been a minister because the life he lived before getting married to my mom and joining the ministry is but a distant and foggy one that I never really knew. I learn more and more each passing day about the history and the obstacles he overcame to do what he is doing today and with each new day, I receive a new admiration for him and his obvious mission. When I was a child I would sneak up to the pulpit when the church was empty and pretend I was providing a sermon to the congregation, just like my dad did every Sunday from before I was born until this very day some 37 years later. And I imagine he will continue doing it until somehow they force him into retirement. As an adult son now, I am blessed to be able to work with my dad and stand at the very place he and the other ministers speak to the congregation of Central United Church. Because of him and his deep love for God, which translates to a sincere love for his fellows, the world has and continues to expand in directions I never dreamt. We are sharing in experiences I could not imagine previously and there is not a day that goes by in which I am not grateful to be his son. To say that I love my parents feels like a drastic understatement despite the gravity of that word. They are guiding lights as my life unfolds and although they are not perfect they maintain an idea of principles that has seemed unflappable throughout my first 37 years. Now, by the grace of God and their nurturing, I have the opportunity to develop these same principles in my daily life. Thank you dad, I love you and am honored to be a part of your ministry. What it means to me that we stand together, I may spend the rest of my life sorting through. David Lewry Central is the church where many people have found freedom. It is where I felt God whispering to me to live when all I wanted was to die.
How did a church do this to me? A man who grew up thinking the Bible was a collection of pretty good, yet absurd stories while fearing God like a child fears an abusive parent… when I looked around in the haze I had made my daily life, I saw no evidence of God caring for or loving me let alone a planet that was self-destructing at a rate which made my own decline seem natural. I hung around because I saw people changing because of God. I watched others, who held contempt for organized religion testify in both words and actions to the facts that God was not only alive and well, but that He was not angry at us for being human. It took me years to come in clean and sober and then it took me a few more years free of substances to come to terms with the fact that God did not hate me. To understand that God was waiting to forgive me for the multitude of mistakes I had made and was going to make in my following years. That God never stopped loving me in all those dark places I wandered, dark waters I attempted to drown in, or in those dark shadows where I kept my true identity a secret. God is love and that is something I know without question today because I feel it run through my entire being in moments that today often stretch into hours and days. I did not conjure it up instead I looked at the evidence around me once my head cleared of arrogance, pride, prejudice, anger, and fear. I searched my past as honestly and diligently as I could and saw that all along, God had protected me when I had forsaken everything I held dear even Him. Whenever I had seen light along the blackened pathways where I knew no light could exist, there was no mistake, it was and it is God. There was always a hand reaching out and there were coincidences that I stammered through believing I was the luckiest man on earth, but that too was God. No one is that lucky. It was the fellowship of Central United Church that showed me without preaching that what had happened and what was happening is a direct result of God providing me with opportunities to grow past my obstacles. God was doing for me what I could never do for myself. It was not that all of a sudden God started working in my life because I started to believe. It was instead a gradual process in which I started to see that God had been working all along; in most cases He had been doing all of the heavy lifting. I learned the idea of faith without works as a dead art and practiced it until one day I was ready to start doing the work. This was the day I started to feel faith in my heart and not just in my head where belief had begun to live strong. This is a direct result of Michael Ward and Wayne Lewry, the two ministers of Central United Church; they diligently and gently spread the message of God’s unconditional love for all of man not just a select few. This was what people of my ilk and kin needed; we had been outcasts for our entire lives and this idea brought us peace and a sense of love we had never known. They invited Muslims into the church for prayer, worship and fellowship. They started CUPS and watched as it grew into an organization that helps thousands every year. They started Inn from the Cold and watched as it grew into an organization that does the same. They are constantly working with other charitable organizations to make Calgary the city we all believe it can be. They speak of nothing but charity and love when you get them alone. They are human, but they are the same whether at home or in front of people; they believe and they practice to the best of their ability this belief and it is evident in them when they speak of God and their love for their fellows. They are the real deal; they are the truest reflection of a beautiful God that I have ever seen and I am as cynical and skeptical as the worst of these. In this reflection of God, they are also a true reflection of the congregation from Central United, who diligently guard against discrimination, intolerance, and judgment for those who cannot or will not speak or stand up for themselves. It has been the congregation of Central, who volunteered in the beginning and to this day to house the homeless in the church facility. They cook and serve the food, they talk with the guests of the shelter throughout the night, help with anything they may need, wash their linens and clothes, and show God’s love without a word or whisper to that end. They show it through works. This is why no violence, no fires, no destruction, and no hate can ever get at the heart of Central United Church. The building is necessary and beautiful, but the building is but a reflection of its people and its people a true reflection of a loving God that is alive and well inside of us. A loving God who walks, talks, and shakes hands. May God watch over those involved in the arson; their actions are those of people suffering from a deep sickness that is all consuming. I want to pretend that I was never that sick, but fortunately God has blessed me, not on merit, but with His grace so that I am able to be here and to understand being spiritually bankrupt enough that the most absurd actions seemed reasonable. Thank you God for no one being hurt in the fire. Thank you God for in our darkest hours You perform miracles we cannot even imagine. David Lewry Happy Mother’s Day to all of the moms… mother is the name of God on the lips of all children.
It is very difficult to sum up my relationship with and the importance of my mom in a short piece meant for publication on one day. However, it is definitely worth a shot into the night’s sky in an attempt to leave a star hanging languidly overhead reminding me of the constant and steady way with which my mother spent the majority of her adult life – caring for her family. I got lucky that is for sure; my mom is neither crazy nor is she the smothering type. I am sure it is a combination of both personality and the fact that she was mom to three boys who so obviously would not be smothered from the get go. She always seemed to know the exact amount of love and letting go to employ with us. Whether that was difficult for her or not, it would be tough to tell, as she always seemed to do it with ease and grace to the point I don’t remember her breaking a sweat throughout it all. When I start to think about how difficult it must have been for her I cringe and shake the idea from my head. I cannot imagine the poise, emotional and physical stamina, intuition, and the multitude of character strengths she used every day and quite often all day long to keep the three of us from early graves. None of us boys were easy to handle; we wandered, tempted fate constantly, and displayed an honest disregard for many of the rules which make being human sustainable…and that was after we reached puberty. That was once we all knew better. When we were youngsters, she must have contained the patience of a saint and the tolerance of an angel because despite those things we did that may send a mom packing over the hills and far away, she flourished and somehow managed to remain young in her heart. My mom is a powerful creature of toughness mixed with love and understanding; I am eternally grateful to have been blessed as her son. When the sun rises in the morning I pray and hope for the courage, strength, and love to show through deeds and work what she means and how deeply she has impacted me. Her loving, gentle voice is a part of my daily life, reminding me often of just how special she is. Thank you mom; for your constant love, support, and strength of character which you instilled throughout the years making us generous, kind, and willing to take a stand for ourselves and others. You are an amazing woman and the world is better because you are in it. Love always, David Graham James was sentenced to two years for being a repeat, high risk sex offender of children. We all know that he'll be out in less than one year; I am sure he will be on his best behavior while inside. There are no children in prison for Graham, only men who do not take kindly to the people who harm children. However he will be separated for his safety because it would be inhumane to allow him to be assaulted and possibly murdered. Is it not inhumane to allow these monsters to continue? What about the children once he is free again Canada?
What about the children who are presently being abused by other monsters like him? What about those he and others have already harmed, who had the guts to step forward? What about those who have not and will not come forward to report their abusers? It is your fault Canadian “justice”; you have failed them so miserably with your watered down version of punishing these monsters- you have given many no recourse, but to walk the road suffering in silence the way so many do. And top secret pardons Canada with such a high profile predator? Keep this in mind the next time you punish the drug addicts harshly while pardoning a convicted sex felon in order to lesson his later sentencing. Just think about it. There needs to be an overhaul in your ranks, from the top down and there is no question about it. Never mind, we’ll get back to you; suffice it to say Canada, you have weakened us. When I first heard the news, I threw up and felt the strong urge to find the nearest offender and exact some revenge for the survivors and for those who are not so lucky (which isn’t as difficult as it first appears for there are more walking amongst us than our government wants us to believe). I understand that any sort of violence is futile because my punishment will reflect the crime, as opposed to the very monster I would slay. Mind you, the worst violence I or anyone could perform on them would never compare to what these monsters take away from children when they abuse. From the hole they leave inside of the victims, that hole which follows us until, if we are lucky, we die of natural causes at a ripe old age. When we work through it, we learn to live with it and we watch as our coping mechanisms slowly develop. But we are the lucky ones, who reach out and trudge the road in full knowledge of what happened and maybe still knowing only glimpses of what was stolen. Before we gain insight, we drink, use drugs, use each other, walk the streets selling our sex because it appears meaningless in hindsight, we trust no one, connect rarely if ever, and attempt suicide when it gets too dark to see. To name just a few of the ways we try to rid ourselves of the pain these monsters left in us and replace whatever it was they stole; we are the lucky ones Canada. The unlucky ones Canada; we overdose, commit suicide, we runaway, we are murdered, we murder perhaps, and we are lost forever. You dishonor their memory and ours with your sentences. You dishonor our families and you are responsible. There was no coincidence that the news came after weeks of working off and on with survivors – and as usual I turn to this; the page, the written word, and the click clacking of the keys on my key board when something burns over the edges of the brain. When I have settled it enough through prayer, conversations with other survivors in my circle, and my own counselor; this is the final resting place for the anger, sorrow, and misery. The last avenue in order to keep the rubber from hitting the road so to speak and turning my emotions outward onto those who commit the crime. I know I don’t deserve it any more than any survivor or victim does, but I do recognize who is deserving of some kind of retort…unfortunately Canadian “justice” does not understand who is at fault and continues to allow the victims, survivors, and their families to be punished. Consider yourselves lucky Graham and the other monsters, who are somehow wandering free today stalking new victims, living in the memory of the past ones. Consider yourself lucky that the whole of the surviving community do not rise against the inept justice system and take matters into our hands. The why you are not all strung up? First, nothing we do can ever bring back what you stole from us or lighten up the thick blackness you left inside. Second, we have been punished enough and do not deserve to be punished more severely than the monsters, which started the whole cycle. Third, and most importantly, God WILL sort you out and that is a fact, which slowly provides a great deal of relief from the overwhelming anger your collective existence causes Canada, keep in mind when you decide to punish other offenders harshly based on what is popular under whatever political regime is in power. Keep in mind that you have been neglecting victims and survivors of sex crimes of all ages from time immemorial by downplaying the crimes and finding any reason to provide leniency to those who committed them. Canada I hope that you somehow, someday bring to light the true beauty, power, and wonder that makes this country so special; shame on you Canada. As difficult as it is for me to type this, I cannot stop my fingers; I love this country, but today I find myself disappointed and ashamed of you. I have grown accustom to high expectations I suppose. I firmly believe we are a country who values our children and the lives they can have, the dreams they can fulfill, and the wonderful presence they can have in the future. For absolute shame Canada. David W. Lewry We are happy to offer editing, proofing, publishing, and some marketing services to aspiring authors, poets and those who would like to have a copy of their work in print.
The services and publications include but are not exclusive too; hard copies, ebooks, photo books, calendars, cook books, poetry books, audio books, and DVD’s. Those wanting something for the family, themselves or a friend; there are photo books - beautiful layouts of your favorite photos and calendars for keepsakes. If you have printed copies of your work and do not have the time to retype, proof, and format the work - we do all that for you upon request. Are you a musician or public speaker? Perhaps you want your book on audio instead of print? All can be taken from your recordings, formatted, and put into compact disc form for selling or keepsake purposes. Got a movie? A how to video? We can format your productions into DVD form. The marketing area is a vast, ever changing environment containing many different options; if you have a product of your own, we can work with you to gain the exposure your work deserves. When you publish through His Will, all rights are yours; the work is in your name and remains your intellectual and creative property. At His Will we would like to see everyone able to be published in whatever form they wish. Costs vary from piece to piece depending on each individual client’s needs. We understand what it is like to try and get yourself published and started on a shoe string budget. We would like to work with you in developing the appropriate and fair cost structure in order that your work gets published properly and word spreads as quickly as possible. Individual styles of work require different amounts of hours by our staff ensuring that we are able to perform to the highest of standards. We have no control over for the base amount of a published book, cd, or DVD, as these are all on a print/download/or on demand service basis. Costs will vary depending on the marketing packages you decide to participate in as well. We will work with you to get the best possible cost for each project that we do. I had to scuttle several titles for this blog, which has aptly been named more than a dozen times over in the spans of a couple hours. At first I debated writing it at all due to being completely overwhelmed by the mash up of emotions flooding through my system all at once.
It’s not a tumor… I’m pretty sure it’s not a tumor… By the grace of God I go – may you guide, protect, and show me how to live. Over seven and a half years ago, I was told of Sam’s death. Seven and a half years ago I started the grieving process; she was a close friend and we had a certain kind of love for one another that is not easy to find. Although on the surface we both walked distinctly different paths, there were similarities interwoven in our stories that once we got to know each other, we found that our hearts were more than similar; they were somehow fully capable of touching the other without a word. She was my muse. She was one of the inspirations to stand up for those who could not fend for themselves. She was a symbol to me of femininity and the incredible strength that women possess. She stood tall, carried a big stick, and spoke with certainty even when filled with doubt. She had survived things that very few people can claim. She was a survivor. Seven Years and 6 months ago… I was sober for seven days when I called Samantha and told her never to contact me again; my girlfriend at the time was jealous of how I spoke of her and the fact that Sam and I had been physical made her uncomfortable. Mind you, it was not just that we had shared sexual experiences, but the how in the tone of my voice when I first mentioned it, which sent the hardening shivers down Jen’s spine, causing her mind to erupt in uncontrollable jealousy. I was mean and I was cold; and I never had the chance to tell Sam how sorry or how wrong I was. Around 21 days sober, Sam’s sister called and informed me that Sam had died. The details were murky but then again, most things about Sam floated on the murky side of the water… her sister read me a letter that Sam had written; I will attempt to summarize what I can recall from a very hazy brain which received the information something like a life time ago… “Dear David, I always wanted a life with you…I wished my children were your children, that we would be together and we would be so happy… I have always loved you more than I could ever say…” I’m sorry to cut it off, but that is all I can remember of the letter with certainty and I am on the verge of breaking down one more time. While Sam’s sister read the letter, I sobbed like I had never sobbed before and lowered my head to the earth in total shame. I felt the inside of my brain fizzle, heart boil, and the blood run scalding hot through my veins like a transfusion of snake venom had taken place. Then it built into climax of pressure and felt like I was going to explode; the image of people finding my parts scattered all over my apartment fluttered through my breaking mind… except my heart; I knew my heart would survive and that it would have to live without her…somehow. There was no doubt even though I prayed for mercy and a quick death. The next day I told Jen that Sam had passed away… her response was, “Who’s Sam?” I cringed at the instant thought and image of smacking her in the head with a large heavy object and then as fast as the image appeared, I went cold and grew certain, “We’re fucking done…” I said, and I walked away… Through the years I held Sam captive in my mind and heart like a prisoner; she molded characters in my books, inspired an entire novel while I stopped for a moment, weeping, at a stop light… I needed her voice in my head, her face in my dreams, and needed the energy only she could give. It helped me grieve. She walked with me through the five stages until three years later I reached full acceptance. And in that time, she also kept me sober like an angel. And now this… Without rhyme or reason, I changed my work out schedule, which put me leaving the gym at the time I would have just started working out normally. I rounded the corner of the Sears building entering the open lot where my truck was parked… my heart stopped beating, my eyes narrowed, and my brain completely seized… Sam stood right in front of me; she looked like flesh and blood, her enormous broad surprised smile, crinkled her nose the way it used to in real life… and then she hugged me and held me tight and I knew she was actually there. She started to cry while we held each other. I wanted to cry, but could not, there was ice water in my veins. She started talking but it sounded like staccato gun fire coming from the far end of a long tunnel. I kept repeating, “I, thought you were dead…” It took her a while to hear my words as well; I’m not sure if her ears felt the thump of her heart beat like mine did, as the walls throbbed closer and closer together cutting off the required ingredients to make sound reverberate. Seconds rolled by that felt like hours and I was completely lost in the hazy smoke which wafted up all around my insides like insulation. I vaguely felt her hugging me and believed that I was hugging her back, “your sister told me you were dead…” I said. “I’m not surprised,” was her reply… and then she went into a brief, garbled attempt at an explanation which made no sense to me because I only heard every fourth or fifth word that came out of her mouth. I watched her lips moving and studied the creases in her face as she spoke, remembering where a good portion of them came from… Remembering the intense study of them on long, languid afternoons… Stunned, we exchanged information in order to catch up at some point… we were both in shock and she complained about not being able to breathe so I walked away, unsure as to whether it had actually happened. I went back into the gym and approached the girl at the counter, “Excuse me?” She smiled and looked at me strangely while I stumbled into my skull and reached for words, “Was I here for about two hours?” She laughed. “No, I mean it… I need to know if I was working out here just now… if I just left a few minutes ago,”I said. My face felt pale and I could sense my eyes sinking into my skull. She stopped laughing, sensing that there was something quite maniacal in the undertone of my soft voice; she felt my panic and could see the pale shell of a person she usually smiled at and received a wide smile in return from, “Ahhhh,”she looked around briefly, “yes David, you just left like a few minutes ago…” I tried to smile, but could not muster the strength, “Uhhhhh, yes, thank you,” I stammered, recognizing she could not know how badly I needed to know whether or not I was working out. I needed to know whether I had been drinking and or using drugs again… needed to know whether I had fallen into a blackout, suffered through a hallucination for the last fifteen or so minutes while I hugged a concrete pillar in the parking lot… or worse yet, some stranger who didn’t have the heart to tell me to stop. I slowly climbed the stairs, pulling myself up one at a time like an old, broken man holding the railings until I reached the main floor. Shaking my head, I was relieved I had not relapsed in a blackout of some kind; relief slowly faded to recognition of what had actually happened… I just saw, hugged, and spoke with a dead person… The rest of that day is a write off; I vaguely remember participating with others to some extent, but all I saw was a grey haze in front of my eyes shielding me from what was coming. The following day was a write off as well, but for the coffee Sam and I had together… The explanation is one of privacy; not for my sake, but for hers… suffice to say that she had nothing to do with me believing her dead and though her sister was a sick twisted individual for telling me what she had; I got the sense that it was for Sam’s protection. The story I heard sounded like bad fiction, but no one made that kind of stuff up; it was too brutal and far too surreal to be phony. It was true life drama and human suffering like few others could describe or survive… as repeatedly as she had survived such things. The impending grey flooded from my toes to the tip of my head; I felt as though I was floating… What it reminds me of is the picture of the footprints in the sand… when God picked me up and carried me because I lacked the strength to walk any further. There was no doubt He was doing the leg work at this point. I am sure he has not put me down yet to be honest. I drove to Canmore, Alberta in the Rocky Mountains and halfway there, the full breakdown hit me. I sobbed and sobbed and the only words I can recall in my head with any frequency are these, “I don’t understand, I trust you God but I don’t understand…my heart feels as though it is breaking all over again…I don’t understand…” This terrible scene lasted nearly twenty minutes in which I prayed repeatedly for God to be the power, strength, courage, and the light I needed…and slowly, very gradually amidst the tears, the nerves settled and a soft voice inside my head said, “I know I don’t need to understand everything right now, thank you for being with me always God…show me the next right thing You would have me do…I don’t understand, but that’s ok…” The words, “My heart is breaking again” repeated for the remainder of the drive. There have been a few times when this heart felt broken, but there was only one time when I felt so acutely my heart tearing itself apart from the inside out and it was when I listened to Sam’s sister read that letter after being told she had died. And then I sobbed some more…and now, my eyes burn from the tears because I feel God with every single cell in my body and know without question He has a plan despite my ignorance of it and the pain which threatens too but does not suffocate me. I’ve run out of fancy ideas for a closing prayer so I will leave you all with the one I learned early in recovery; one that never failed to lighten my heart and fill me with gratitude: Thank you God, Amen. David W. Lewry Feeling much older, slightly wiser, and a hell of a lot happier…2011 is in the rearview mirror now…to some extent at any rate; looking back there was a whole lot going on in every grain of sand that slipped through the old hour glass.
As difficult as it is to put an entire year in perspective, “wow” would say a lot, but that would not even begin to summarize the year of my life in which faith became a living, breathing action word as some things were completely turned upside down. I learned a bit more of what “faith without works” actually means and it was not taught to me by some educator, but by those who I am blessed to serve as a messenger and hopefully a support. The men and women who began their new journey this past year to change their lives one day at a time, by the grace of God, after life-times of self-destructive and self-loathing abuse… men and women just like me. They are the ones, who brought me through the fog, while they believed whole heartedly I was bringing them. This year in theirs and my own recovery journey has been a constant reminder that without works, faith cannot truly exist aside from lip service and private dreaming, which would more than likely lead me back out to the place where suicide was the reasonable solution to all of my problems…by God’s grace I go and by His grace I stay. Neither I nor the year were perfect, matter of fact, the “I” involved was far from it even though the year dished out some beautiful moments of God’s power and love for my fellows and even me. The truth of the matter is this year brought challenge after challenge, but I witnessed and experienced those same challenges quickly turn into opportunities with every moment sunk into prayer. If I was to say, “I lived off of prayer all year,” that would be an understatement; everything good in my life is of and because of a growing ability to let go and let God at every possible opportunity. This process was taught to me through time and God’s many messengers working everyday; often without their knowledge of what I was taking from them. Please don’t leave before the miracle happens… we never know when, only that it is. Whatever it is… I am grateful for each and every one of my fellows, whether male or female, who found the compassion for me to spend the time and lend their wisdom, strength and hope. Their help was one of the many blessings I received in order to remain sober and work towards where I fully believe God wanted me to be. Exactly where I am. I also learned that just because some people have time in sobriety, they are not necessarily healthier than someone who is brand new and in certain cases the time acquired simply turns some back into bullies, bastards, cheats, thieves, and liars just as though they were still using and drinking. This is not a judgment, it is an observation and I state it here because watching these individuals’ flounder has taught me; living this kind of sobriety is not what I imagined or want and to pass along that it doesn’t have to be for anyone. If you are new, take the time to get to know people by sticking around and find those people who have time but also have something intangible which time does not always bring to a person. And to the best of your ability keep people off of any pedestal; it can be traumatic for us when we realize no one deserves nor can live up to the images we have in our heads… I repeatedly experienced this from start to finish of 2011 and by God’s grace I won’t continue along this trend. Realism is key and it is never realistic to hold a human being amongst the saints or the divine; they can only fail and when they do some of us decide that everything is a lie and no longer worth staying sober for. The truth is much easier; we are all human beings and all fallible by nature, birth, and experience. To me, reality never seemed so sweet; acknowledging that like me, they too have their burdens to carry and like me, cannot attain that divine status our ego proposes is possible. I interject this observation because I like to remind myself of what I do not want to become and remind myself as to the how I can avoid becoming it. This process is all about repetition and recognition through it and if I am the only person who reads this missive, then that is perhaps one more day I can keep in sobriety and one more thing I can carry forward in order to change just a little at a time. I pray for all of my fellows, whether struggling or not, friend or foe, healthy or otherwise because we all find ourselves dangling by a string at different points along the route; sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. However, there is no doubt in my mind that there are many people in our situation who do not treat others as though they are simply present to further their own causes and line their pockets. We all have the capacity to become the whole person we were meant to be, but we get there one step at time, one decision after another to the best of our abilities. Often we find that the most honest decisions have the highest price…buy the ticket; take the ride…the reward is something however that cannot be counted. There is no other way to get better but to do better each and every day, realizing that stumbling and fumbling is a part of the process…we can recover if we have the capacity to be honest…and that honesty begins with honesty to self… There is no way for perfection to be a part of our present or future, but I know that I can certainly do better than I did when I was drinking and consuming drugs everyday…by the grace of God I go for like many have said, if I am not moving forward, I am subtly moving backwards into my addictive cycle; as an alcoholic and addict stagnation breeds regression, which personally, I cannot afford. I digress… subtly. As the year wound down, a new direction took shape inside of me; I say new, but honestly, it had been percolating in the back of my mind since I was a boy. The same, which I had been dreaming of while at the same time avoiding whole heartedly for three main reasons: a serious lack in faith that indeed God would provide or think me worthy, a lack of faith in my own ability and a more often than not an unreasonable fear that the “who I was” happened to be much too far out for the church environment. Through continued and increased prayer however, faith slowly and steadily increased and God brought me forward, more often than not kicking and screaming in silent resistance to what I did not know was waiting for me around this last corner… until finally, the wall broke and I gave in to everything that seemed to be happening according to a will outside of my own. I was scared, but the alternative seemed like insanity…hit head against the wall, bleed, pause, and repeat process as though I could not remember what happened the last time I hit my head against that wall…concussions will do that to a person. Tired and filled with sorrow from fighting a losing battle over the change that had solidified in the non-for profit atmosphere, I cashed out my chips and struck out alone into private practice. The fifteen years in the field prior prepared me for something and I was about to find out exactly what it was. It was a leap of faith like none other I had ever experienced; I had the support of friends and family and an unflinching faith that God was directing me. It felt like I had finally taken the side seat in order to allow for things to progress the way God intended…to the best of my ability. I can honestly say that to this point, even the little doubts which have tried to creep into my consciousness could not dissuade me from the path I find myself now on. But God did not leave me alone for this leap; it was not of me that I found the strength to do it… it was God given through yet more people, who provide me with love and support daily… All of my friends were huge supports; Dominic, Dominic’s wife Jill, Eryn, Janice, and so many others that given several weeks, I could not take enough time or find enough words to list and thank them all. I have to mention Tara and Natasha specifically, as they often struck me as the voice of God with their constant supportive messages the closer I got to the departure date from the safe and secure world of being “gainfully employed” by agencies I could no longer fully believe in out of long held principles and a deep passion. It was Tara and Natasha, who finally spearheaded my decision and both were like singing angels for the voice of my Higher Power when I needed something tangible to convince me that I was in fact making a reasonable choice. Finally I listened. Thank you both very much. My parents were and remain paramount in continuing to re-enforce my faith, whether they were aware or not - they are imperative in my continued trust in the process. Theirs is an unflinching belief that what is happening is right and true and in their belief, I find some of my own mixed in. In those moments finishing the year when doubt began to creep in, there was always a kind word or some kind of positive news delivered to me at exactly the right time…and I do not believe in coincidences. I believe in miracles and I believe in God’s timing not my own. Of the many blessings and lessons, which God brought into my life this past year, the one thing that really sticks is just how difficult it is to get and keep sober time for the large majority of people who attempt it. I remember how hard it was for me early on and how difficult it can be to this day in certain moments when the world shifts just a bit behind my eyes; for some reason the extent of the difficulty had faded away until I began working daily with new comers. These men and women refueled my memory and pushed me forward never wanting to return to a state of such excited anxiety, if there is anything I can do about that, I am going to continue trying. By God’s grace I have not had to drink or use since August 22, 2004, but so many have not had this experience; it appears much more difficult today than when I walked into the Garnett and stopped when God took my obsession to drink away from me. I understand fully that it has not become more difficult because the disease remains the same, but time and hindsight create such a different picture in my memory’s eye. It appears to have changed dramatically; I attribute this change of course to my involvement in the program, which has increased a thousand fold from where it once it was lending me a brand new set of eyes with which to look upon the process and program as a whole. This feeling and thinking is what spawned the more focused idea of developing the treatment program I had been working on for some time and putting it into a workable framework to deliver service to those, who may not otherwise be able to afford treatment of any kind. I tried to put into perspective the basics of recovery that can help simplify an obviously difficult process as much as possible. I am not an expert and I am definitely not alone, but this disease requires many different approaches delivered by many different types of services and people in order to be successful. With such low rates of recovery in every form of treatment, we have to continue to evolve programming and service delivery; by the grace of God we will be able to contribute something to the whole picture of treating alcoholism and addiction and maybe our children’s children will find that perfect way with which to do it all. On top of this, I am entering the process to become a lay minister at Central United Church and as excited as I am, the nerves sometimes get the better of me and I want to turn tail and run away…even though it has been a childhood dream of mine to work in such a capacity, which of course is why I won’t run… This is the time for dreams. This is the someday we spoke of when sitting idle and drunk. I learned so much this past year, it may take me all of 2012 to figure out exactly what those lessons are, but I will finish by saying this… God has a plan and I have no idea what it is until He reveals it, one day at a time and sometimes one moment leading subtly into the next… and even then, I am often unaware of what exactly I am to do until the moment passes. It was fitting that on the first day of 2012, I heard what God’s will for me actually is; Rejoice, pray without ceasing, and be grateful… pretty simple, thank you God. By Your grace we go… Welcome to 2012; may you all be blessed to find the peace, the love, the passion, or whatever else you might be searching for… Thank you, David Wayne Lewry Is Anyone Listening
It is a widely known fact that the justice system in both Canada and The United States is largely ineffectual and wholly inefficient. There is a definite and acute lack of respect for it by the public because of the obvious lack of fear and respect shown by the criminals who repeatedly perpetrate crimes against children, the filthy soulless defense attorneys who defend them, and the lazy prosecutors who make deals with monsters for a larger win total at year end. This is not to say that the only crimes under-punished are related to child predators, but let’s start there because for the love of God and all that is holy, these are children and over the past few weeks there has been such a dramatic increase in media coverage of one child sexual abuse “scandal” after another. It pains me sharply and lights a fire inside of me I can no longer deny. Sandusky arrested from Penn State, James plead out to two charges and awaits sentencing, and the prick who abused at least two boys in the 80’s off because of “statute of limitations”…my heart hurts and not just for those children we know about, but the multitudes we do not is what scares me. We need to do more about this and we need to pound this subject into the minds of people until they are sick enough about it to turn billion dollar university programs into pulp because “children matter more than football or basketball or some assholes legacy in terms of either of those sports…” and please, quote me on that. I know I said it; children matter more than football, basketball, or any other form of fucking entertainment that numbs our brains and keeps us from consciousness. Thank God Theo Fleury, a sports icon, at least in Canada, is up front and vocal because without someone “important” speaking we don’t tend to listen. God bless him for his courage. As a survivor of this atrocity I am not going to try and reserve my contempt for the process our justice system “undertakes” when faced with “prosecuting” this crime. I will wager a guess that I will not apologize for swearing, being biased, or suggesting violence when a large part of me is becoming more of a pacifist with every passing day. Remember we are talking about children and we claim we will do anything to protect them while we abandon them in their most perilous time of need. It is no small wonder that while working in law enforcement I was approached by other people in the industry and asked if I would participate in a less than on the books operation of what can only be described as a vigilante act on a repeat convicted pedophile, who got off with a conditional sentence due to plea bargaining despite his status. I seriously considered it… but at the time I was trying, just like today, to allow God to change me from the angry fellow I once was all of the time. Instead of apologizing, I am going to kick the subject right square in the balls until a point of sterilization and impotence is reached – just like the parents of all children affected should be allowed to do to those individuals who stole a piece of their child they may never get back. Even though we have come to understand that most predators are impotent already, there is no punishment which fits the crime because no criminal code has yet to wager the cost of stealing someone’s soul – they believe and are blatantly wrong that this crime is minimal and does not hold the same weight as robbing a fucking bank. Or at least this is what we are shown; look at the stats! Bank robbery is considered, and rightfully so, a violent, major crime. What is child sexual abuse considered? Plead down to sexual assault? Child pornography? Cyber-crime? What! Time served…probation…conditional sentence? Depending on who commits the crime? What’s at stake for those who covered up the crimes? I am hoping everyone sees the connection to what is important in our society, banks, versus what may not be as important as we are told, children. Where are the riot squads and masked police officers enforcing“justice” in these situations? They are busy moving peaceful protestors at the direction of their departments who are a part of municipal, state-provincial and federal systems run by money, which is held and manipulated by the same banks being robbed. Pardon me while I throw up in my mouth and wonder again why vigilante punishment is wrong; by the grace of God. I say a piece is gone we may never get back because there is a piece of us that is fucking gone – it’s not there anymore folks; I have looked inside for 17 years and into many others for over 14, who share my experience. We all explain there is something vital that is missing from deep inside. I resemble that and understand without any further explanation, but you may not. I have learned to cope with what has happened once my brain allowed me to see it in its entirety; I am one of the lucky ones – many report blank spots that are either never filled in or are far too scary for the person to look at let alone share with anyone. Gather your psychologists, your psychiatrists, and any other brand of professional witness and I’ll tell them too - there is a piece missing and it is something vital. The psychotherapy helps, the counseling helps, the programs help, doing work in different groups helps, but after almost 17 years of an in depth examination of the events which shaped my own and the 14 years of working with adults who have survived the same; I understand that best way to address the process is like grieving for the loss of a loved one. Chances are pretty good we don’t ever forget or stop feeling sad for the loss, but like with surviving sexual abuse; you learn to process it and hopefully it has less control over your behaviors as time goes on and that the sadness and sorrow come with less frequency and intensity. I say hopefully with purpose. By the grace of God, I was not successful with the three of my purposeful suicide attempts or the countless “accidental” attempts by chronic overuse of morphine and other substances. By the grace of God I was able to get and stay sober through the past 7 plus years. By the grace of God I will always go… You are not alone in the pain you carry and neither am I. I realized a few years ago I was never alone; when I get the memories today it is not just for me or my past. I become overwhelmed with the lacking in our society of follow through when it comes to our treatment of victims by our treatment of perpetrators. To those struggling with addiction, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, and other forms of mental, emotional and physical illness as a result of childhood sexual abuse and trauma - my prayers, thoughts, and actions are always with you. The fight is uphill. The slope is steep, but you are not alone and our silence helps no one. I always thought that the secret was best kept; I was wrong. The secret kept me sicker than I could stand to be and I almost ended my life because of it. By the grace of God I am alive today. If you need help, please reach out to someone. There are people who can and will help you. To the families of those who have been lost; my deepest condolences go out to you and yours and if nothing else, because nothing will take it away, you are in my thoughts and prayers every day hoping that someday this will not have to be a topic for any discussion in future generations. Thank you, David Wayne Lewry |
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