Monday, April 6, 2009

Blessed


This little guy is my good friend. He is the most gentlemanly rooster I have ever known. He is kind to his little flock of hens. He worries over them, will not eat until they know that there is food and will not go to sleep until he is sure that that are safely roosting. He trots over to visit with me when I walk out the door and he will eat out of my hand.

At some point in my life, I realized that everything, every single thing, that has ever happened to me has been a blessing. The only problem was whether or not I was willing to recognize and accept the blessing.

Today I read the following remarkable comment from Ask Aunt B, a regular reader at Frankie's Blog.

"There's always at least two ways of looking at any given situation, Frankie Darling. Might I mention something I happened to have learned?

You have to have gone through it to see it, to recognize it but believe it or not, you and I have been given a gift not all are privy to.

See, when a person goes to Prison, they come out one of two ways; Bitter or Blessed. Most will come out bitter and pissed off at the world for their demise. They have no idea of what personal accountability is, just for starters so how could they possibly appreciate a diddly damn thing?

When I walked out of prison, all I had to my name was a flippin plastic cup, plastic spoon and a little radio w/the ear bud. That and my donated clothes were it except for my undergarments a la prison wear with my name and number on it. Everything and almost my dignity had been stripped from me.

Yes, we had to start over from scratch, did we not? We started over mentally, physically, emotionally, even materially. What was born from that though was and is something most take for granted I was so very pleased when I got my first pay check. I went out and bought a brand new shiny metal travel mug and 4 real spoons. I also splurged and purchased a throw rug that brightened up my tiny room in the ghetto.

My parents mailed me a laptop. Which by the way was a miracle in itself that they had forgiven me. Parole did not allow us to have cell phones and although it took me a minute,I had cable/internet/phone turned on. I was happier than a pig in shit, life was good, really good. And I appreciated it all.

The gift came in the form of a knowledge, an awareness of all that I had taken for granted; love, life, even laughter as I had stopped laughing long before. What was there to laugh about in existing to shoot heroin?

Yes Frankie, you've been given that gift too or you'd have not shed a tear. Prison a gift, you say? Well, it saved our lives at a time when we were too sick to see. Way too sick to see.

Yes, we were hand picked for the mission as we'd already earned our degree, a PhD in Street, Crime and Drugs.


Now...watcha gonna do with it?"


If you want, your life can have meaning and purpose.

The Christians Hope - Densons Sacred Harp Singers of Arley, Alabama 13.11.1928

4 comments:

Ask Aunt B said...

I thank ya kindly for posting this. I guess the moral of the story might be to aspire to be more like your Mr. Rooster, huh?

Jon said...

He is also very fond of proclaiming the glory of the dawn. Very fond.

Ask Aunt B said...

Do they make Rooster muzzles? Just asking, lol?

Jon said...

Oh there's no way I'd want to silence him. He's so pleased with himself. Plus, he has a duty to proclaim his own glory and the glory of chickendom. It's what he was born for.

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