If I Could: Thriving in what Is

"If I could" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

Whilst typing from the security of my laptop, surrounded by books that bring comfort and allow me to boyishly daydream, I look into the bottom of a well-used white, cold coffee mug that holds a pour of a venti dark roast Christmas blend from Starbucks, no more than a three-minute walk away from our humble townhome. Pondering, 'What has my life become?', I realize that the pursuit of things not done nor attempted is okay and part of my life as self-discovery and fulfillment, thoughts from a man now fifteen months and five decades old. It is this inner fire of curiosity and learning, framed by the core value of incessant self-improvement, that keeps me searching and striving to expand my horizons. This body of mine, an unfinished product, guides my hands and thoughts through literature and contemplation.

If I could live a hundred lifetimes, I would seek experiences far beyond those I have ever known. I’d study at Oxford and try to find the places where Lewis and Tolkien met to share notes. Even though I currently walk a path of abstinence, I'd like to see a pub and think about what that might have been like over a pint of ale or two. In London, I would taste the morning fog and gaze at the edge of the banks of the River Thames and see if I could find the old school houses where Milton was educated. In each of these places, a fire within me would kindle, much like that of a blacksmith's forge, guiding me to new discoveries and experiences.

If I could, commanding a horse and carriage, I would once again don my ragged, sweat-worn, straw Stetson, pull up my Wranglers, and outfit my feet with the leather soles of my Nocona's. I’d homestead in the northern wilds of America, perhaps in the deep woods of Canada, or near the fisheries of Alaska. The sound of crashing waves mingling with the crisp scent of pine is hallucinogenic. I would rest for a moment to breathe in the crisp air in these asthmatic lungs. Learning the iron trade at the forge's fire symbolizes a past life of resilience and adaptability against the world, as taught by amphibious warriors. I would learn to scuba dive, exploring the views only seen by clownfish off the coast of Australia's reefs. And climb, short of breath, at least to the base camp in Nepal with an oxygen tank in tow. Each time, I am conscious of this burning desire that drives my passions that cannot be quenched.

I'd begin by embracing the arts and crafts more confidently, finding solace and expression in woodworking, pipefitting, and pottery, all of which symbolize my striving to build a life well lived. As I delve deeper into palliative medicine, therapeutic healing, and pastoral counseling, I will learn the importance of compassion and service to others, continuously drawing on the inner warmth and strength found in the blacksmith's forge.

If given the chance to lead, I would govern with wisdom and fairness, striving to cultivate a community rooted in tradition, family, and care. Yet, I know that the path to such leadership is not without obstacles. I once faced a challenging period in which dissent among team members threatened the very cohesion we were working to build. It was a test of my resolve, pushing me to adapt and reinforce the values of unity and understanding, and, through it, upon the anvil of life, my character flaws were hammered out into a finer tool. In teaching young men discipline, with Homeric influence, I would share the feats of Odysseus, Ajax, and Hector. Without a doubt, the shepherd boy who grew to be David, through physical prowess, rifle skills, tactics of fists and throws in wrestling, and the wisdom found in the letters written to the residents of Colossa and Ephesus for the foundation of power and strength, I recognize the significance of having a savior guide my effort. I would stand on the shoulders of those air, land, and Neptune's warriors before me and hand down the esprit de corps and semper fidelis of my brothers. My journey would culminate in the dream of writing an epic poem rivaling Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Tolstein, Lewis, and Solomon, a testament to a life's narrative rich with diversity and growth. Yet, in this reflection, I also find contentment in my current life as a Texas-born veteran, husband, father, caregiver, and a perennial peregrinator. I am content and thankful for Horace's reminder.

Reading brings relief, and a stanza from Horace’s Odes, Book 1, Ode 31—the final lines of a prayer addressed to Apollo—as interpreted by Bennett and Rolfe (1965, p. 28), hopefully is a salve for you. Although Greek and Roman in tone, these lines ring true for us today if our heart remains soft: “Frui paratis et valido mihi, Latoe, dones ac, precor, integra cum mente, nec turpem senectam degere nec cithara carentem.” The literal sense is as follows, rendered from Raffel and Johnson (1983, p. 29): “Apollo: all I ask is what I own already, and the peace to enjoy it, sound in body and mind, and a promise of honor in old age, and to go on singing to the end.” When I read the ancient works of Horace, I am reminded of the teacher's words in the wisdom literature texts in the Old Testament, the author of the thirtieth proverb ask for not be rich or to be poor, but asks to be fed with the food he needs (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Proverbs 30:8). That request is a plea to remain content. Horace reminds us of the futility of ignoring a contented life.

Inspired by Horace's Book II, Ode 18, one of the stanzas discusses the ego-centric and self-absorbed trap of the day, where Horace tells that he is not some heir of a wealthy deceased king, nor does he currently live in a home full of marble, gold, and ivory furnishings (Raffel and Johnson, 1983, p. 52). Horace embodies words to describe the gladness of heart in his poetry. In contrast, as I think about my workstation encased in the halls of a hospital, the tools of caring for others, gurneys, I.V. poles, medications, and alarming monitors, I am reminded to keep trying not to hide my light under a bushel. This simple setting of the hospital continues to represent and serve as an example for me to help others, in stark opposition to the grandiosity of today, yet it brings a profound sense of fulfillment and purpose. I have an affinity for great poems, especially those that represent the experiences all humans understand, the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the victories and losses common to all.

As I have often done before, when my mind becomes tangled with piercing, anxious, and intrusive thoughts, such as the lingering fear of not achieving my life goals, I turn to journaling and prose to make sense of my personal battles and struggles. Grateful for the ability to write, I sought the help of online language models to shape my thoughts more poetically, drawing inspiration from Horatian lines. I asked Perplexity AI to refine my original idea: 'I would rather inherit scraps from a dad who was a working nurse and caregiver, than inherit riches from a materialistic father who made his money in business.' This reflection was inspired by both Horace and Dickens. Each holiday season, we watch A Christmas Carol. Charles Dickens (Dickens and Douglas-Fairhurst, 2006) told the story of Christmas best in his novel. As such, each year I reflect and am reminded to focus on the moment when Jacob Marley explains to Ebenezer the meaning of his shackles and chains—symbols of the burdens he forged during his lifetime. Those who recognize the contrast between Ebenezer and his humble clerk will find greater insight.

Engaging with the AI's output opened a dialogue of creativity for me. I found myself encouraged and surprised by its choice of words. The poetic phrasing led me to think about the craftsmanship apparent in artificial assistance in helping me write better, and how it can help us in other areas of life as well. As I embrace it, the moral choice between the humble and the lavish in the stanza below helps make the most crucial thing crystal clear: the artistic value of artificial intelligence.

I'd sooner keep a caregiver's humble bread,
Then feast on gold by vanity misled.
His hands brought healing; theirs mere gain—
One leaves me heart, the other stain. (Perplexity AI, 2025)

As the dawn fades and the sun sets, marking another journey around our brightest star, we look forward to the days ahead, striving to grow in faith, strengthen our trust, and deepen our character. May our source of strength, that guiding light and deliverer for all who believe, inspire in us a spirit eager to share His agape.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

References:

Bennett, C. E., & Rolfe, J. C. (1965). Horace: Odes and Epodes (Digitized ed.). Allyn & Bacon. https://archive.org/details/horaceodesepodes0000hora/page/n7/mode/2up

Dickens, C., & Douglas-Fairhurst, R. (2006). A christmas carol and other christmas books. Oxford University Press.

Perplexity AI. (2025). Assistance with adapting Horatian-style verse and language refinement [Large language model]. https://www.perplexity.ai

Raffel, B., & Johnson, W. R. (1983). The essential Horace: Odes, Epodes, Satires, and Epistles. North Point Press. https://archive.org/details/essentialhoraceo0000hora/page/n5/mode/2up

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)

Knot Sunk Yet: Resilience through the Storm

"anvil, compass, magnifying glass, and M&P" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

 

Feel the surge of salty sea spray as it invigorates your senses—the first sign that you are alive and ready for a new adventure. Before you, your ship stands strong and proud, tied to the pier yet longing for open water. You walk up to her bow, peer through and past the gunwale, and gaze up at her majestic mast and yard arm, noticing her stowed sails that soon will come unfurled and fill with the winds of the sea, your memories swirling of every challenge she has weathered and every safe return to harbor. You named her "Knot Sunk Yet" for a reason: she is a symbol of resilience—just like you. 

Every voyage she survived, every lesson learned at sea, is proof that you, too, are capable of rising above adversity. As you stand at the helm, know that you carry the spirit of every past triumph and the hope of new discoveries. Embrace this moment with courage and anticipation—the horizon is yours to claim.

Reflect on a time when you faced a new challenge, much like setting sail into uncharted waters. What sort of purpose lies within you on this next journey? How did you draw upon inner resilience and past experiences to navigate unknowns? Now, standing at the threshold of a new voyage, feel a blend of cautious anticipation and energetic resolve, eager for the challenges and discoveries that await.

All growth is a journey; you are both traveler and pilgrim, passenger and captain of your own ship. Words, like the nimble rudder of your vessel, though small, steer your course across calm and stormy seas alike. When swells rise and torrents threaten, these words will keep your keel steady, providing stability, structure, and support on your life’s voyage. As you navigate these waters, anticipate transformative growth—an evolution from uncertainty to confidence, from question to revelation. Every captain needs specific tools for the voyage, and the words that follow are cues and recaps for you, for the next journey ahead.

First and foremost, don't forget the ship's compass—a steadfast guide when clear skies fade, the sun turns gray, and your boat enters the Sea of Fear and Doubt. As you leave safe harbor and ready your vessel once again, you carry your education, training, and heritage, along with your previous experiences. Now, you set sail beyond the familiar coastline, venturing past the horizon and away from the comforts of home. At first, like all previous trips, the navigation may seem easy, aided by channel markers, ocean buoys, and nearby ships, but this sense of security is fleeting. As you steam into deeper waters and uncharted experiences, those markers will disappear. Your compass, however, will always point true north. Much like in navigation, where 'true north' is a fixed point of reference, in personal growth, it represents your core values and guiding principles. It signifies what is most important to you, helping you make decisions and stay aligned with your aspirations. When storms arise, and the seas grow rough, your compass will keep you on your proper heading, ensuring you remain on track to reach your destination and avoid running aground or shipwrecking your vessel.

Secondly, and equally essential, is the magnifying glass. As you chart more journeys on your life's course, you'll encounter small thumbnails, hidden messages, and subtle details—insights that may not appear at first glance but can prove invaluable when you might often drift off course. As you collect treasures—adventures, experiences, setbacks, and uncertainties—use your magnifying glass to uncover essential clues or hidden wisdom you might otherwise overlook. These observations not only guide you but also serve as reminders of how your abilities can grow from learning through failure or remembering victories. Learning from mistakes is a powerful way to cultivate a growth mindset, reinforcing the idea that challenges are stepping stones to developing your skills. Sometimes, only careful observation reveals what is unclear or ambiguous at first. The wisdom and experiences of others can also serve as guidance if you look closely enough. By focusing on life's small details and using each discovery as evidence of your ability to expand, you equip yourself to navigate more confidently and thoughtfully.

When faced with a problem or uncertainty, remember to pair your magnifying glass with a methodical approach, such as the scientific method. First, ask questions: What is happening? How is it occurring? Where are things going? Who is involved, and why? Be inquisitive. Next, gather facts and conduct thorough research. Then, form a hypothesis or theory to address your questions. Test your ideas by checking if they hold up to scrutiny, reason, and evidence. Analyze your results to see what you’ve learned, and finally, draw your conclusions. Now, let’s turn this method into action. Today, choose one question from your life's journey and apply just the first step: ask questions. For instance, consider a question like 'What small change can I make this week to improve my work-life balance?' or, ‘How can I incorporate the experiences of others to help me with a problem?’ or, ‘Where do go for strenght, support or clarity?’ or, ‘Who can I help today?’ or ‘Have I been here before and what do I know about myself to get me through tough spots?’ Jot down the answers, observations, possible causes, and potential solutions, engaging your curiosity without judgment. Share your discoveries with others who are like-minded and open to growth. In this way, you turn careful observation into wisdom, and wisdom into forward momentum on your journey. 

The next piece of equipment is your mortar and pestle. You may ask, 'How does a captain need a mortar and pestle for their journey?' The following will explain. Although you are the captain of your ship and not new to the seas, you also take on the essential role of provider, responsible for both nourishment and healthcare. You must care for yourself when hunger, fatigue, or illness arises. Here, the mortar and pestle become your indispensable tools: with them, you can prepare remedies, salves, and healing solutions, as well as transform raw ingredients into vital sustenance, grinding grains for bread, crushing spices for flavor, preparing herbs, or making butters from nuts and seeds.

When you're far from home, you might feel overwhelmed by challenges. You might face an intense period of uncertainty that threatens to capsize or shipwreck your boat and spirit. The mortar and pestle, both physically and metaphorically, are helpful. Just as herbs are crushed and ground into a fine powder to transform the taste of food or enhance its flavor, consider how life's trials and tribulations act as a mortar, grinding you into a stronger, more resilient person. By breaking down obstacles, you find new flavors of your character emerging—patience from enduring hardship, wisdom from overcoming setbacks, and strength from facing fears. These experiences may initially seem overwhelming, but they ultimately refine and empower you, much like spices releasing their aroma under the pestle, allowing you to grow into a more defined and robust version of yourself. This time on your journey, when you encounter a setback, you see it as another lesson—another ingredient in your growth. Your journey requires you to make good use of the ship’s kitchen and infirmary to maintain your strength and well-being, and remember how the act of transformation can turn adversity into empowerment.

As you explore distant lands and encounter new cultures, you will gather a wealth of knowledge about nutrition and holistic self-care. Embrace a multicultural approach and learn from the diverse doctors, counselors, and healers you meet along the way. Many shores around the world are rich with resources and wisdom. By staying open to cultural competence and new modalities, you equip yourself to thrive, drawing on global traditions to nourish and heal yourself throughout your voyage. Lastly, no voyage is without its dangers. Along your journey, you will face threats and challenges, some from without, others from within. As captain, you must also forge your own resilience, for you are not only the master of your ship but its sole blacksmith. 

Finally, you will need to repeatedly use the anvil as your foundation: a place to strengthen your resolve, repair what is broken, and shape your character in the fires of adversity. Be prepared to use it often. The anvil is more than iron: it is the foundation of resolve, where raw intent is tested and shaped by trial, each stroke of the hammer to the hot steel forging ability, progress, and heart. Consider establishing a daily reflection practice as a measurable way to build resilience. By writing down your thoughts and responses to daily challenges, you create a tangible record of your growth and fortitude. By training yourself physically and emotionally, you garner the competence to engage every challenge. Every ship has an armory, where weapons for fighting battles are stowed, created, sharpened, and fixed. Be prepared in season and off-season to stand your ground, and when you need to fight the enemies that attack you, make yourself durable, train yourself to be grounded, make yourself resistant to damage, and unshakeable, and when able, help others to remain strong.  

To help you start this practice, consider the following reflection prompts, which can serve as a guiding light as you consistently build and reinforce your resilience. What challenges did I face today, and how did I respond to them? What is one thing I learned about myself today? How did I demonstrate resilience or strength in my actions? What can I do differently tomorrow to improve my response to adversity? Which small victories am I celebrating today, and why?

You are one of many captains in the Fleet of Perseverance, and as such, remember your fellow captains as they navigate their personal voyages. Reflect on the shared challenges and triumphs, and consider engaging with them to exchange insights and support. Are you ready to embark on this epic course? You are. 

Remember, the tools you carry are few but essential: the steady compass (your inner values compass to navigate through life’s complexities), the revealing magnifying glass (to shed light on hidden truths and opportunities), the enduring mortar and pestle (to transform challenges into growth), and the unwavering strength of the anvil (as a cornerstone for forging resilience and character).

You’ll arrive at a land rich with secrets, where the compass guides not just for direction but toward hope and purpose. Consider this your call to action. Identify one courageous battle you will face this week. What specific action will you take to face it, and how will you measure your progress? The sea is vast, and your resolve must be unwavering. Choose your path with intention, and commit to making this journey not just a fleeting inspiration but a sustainable habit that propels you forward. Recall the name of your ship, the Knot Sunk Yet, and determine to make progress, such as minutes spent each day on the challenge, the number of attempts made, or reflections logged in a journal. Additionally, share your goals and progress with your fellow captains to foster a sense of community and accountability. These tangible signs will not only track your advancement but also reinforce your motivation by showcasing your journey toward success. May your seas be fair, your compass true, the sun bright, and your strength full of vigor. Have an adventurous journey until your ship reaches harbor once more.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

Mud, Walls, and Willpower: Mastering Life's Obstacle Course

"mud, walls & willpower" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

Obstacle course racing has exploded in popularity over the past decade, serving not only as a test of physical prowess but, more importantly, as a training ground for spiritual growth. At the core of events like the Spartan Race and Tough Mudder is the opportunity to push beyond physical limits and initiate a transformative journey of the soul. These races are more than just adventures; they offer a profound exploration of the spirit. Participants, who often pay a hefty price for the experience, traverse miles of challenging terrain to embark on this spiritual expedition. Some of these events feature military-style challenges, overseen by former special ops soldiers, allowing participants to undergo a selection-like process or enjoy a boot camp atmosphere. In a culture filled with the comforts of modern life, such as Starbucks lattes and iPhones, these races satisfy a deep craving for raw, unfiltered challenges, providing a chance to earn an actual moment of transformation alongside a T-shirt or medal.

I admit I have a humble collection of 'winner t-shirts' and 'race finisher' medals. I loved the training for the races I participated in, and the feeling of competing against others and myself for the pure experience. One particular race stands out in my memory. At a pivotal moment, while climbing a steep, muddy hill under a cold, semi-bright winter sun, every muscle in my body screamed in protest, and I could taste the salt of my own sweat trickling down my face at one of the local races here in Santa Clarita Valley. The sound of my heartbeat was like a relentless drumbeat in my ears, synchronizing with the rhythmic squelch of my shoes pulling free from the thick mud. The air was filled with the earthy scent of churned earth and grass, a reminder of nature's raw power. Every agonizing step forward seemed like a triumph over myself, embodying the hero's journey in its essence and actually reminiscent of a time when I was in military fatigues overseas.

In this way, the obstacle course becomes more than a physical challenge—it serves as a metaphor for the journey of discipleship, where each struggle marks a step toward spiritual growth. The sense of accomplishment that follows is deeply rewarding, giving us stories of perseverance to share with friends, family, and even on social media. For a brief moment, we experience the hero’s journey firsthand—before returning to our daily routines, Monday-morning traffic, and the responsibilities of everyday life. We push ourselves through these routines, looking forward to those rare, meaningful breaks—like a family vacation—as milestones along our journey.

Recall the story of Odysseus, who was held captive by the goddess Calypso in her cave. Calypso offered him the gift of immortality so that he would not have to face the human struggle of old age (Butler & Dirda, 2013, p. 484)—a prize many would consider the ultimate desire. Yet, even such an extraordinary offer could not replace Odysseus’s deep longing for purpose, belonging, and home. Odysseus’ response to Calypso, before being released, reflects this enduring desire: he wished to return to his native land, to see his friends and brothers, and above all, to reunite with his wife Penelope. He famously declared, “Even if some god wrecks me when I am on the sea, I will bear it and make the best of it” (Butler & Dirda, 2013). In this, we can recognize the universal human struggle for meaning, as captured so powerfully in Homer’s epic.

Odysseus’s unwavering desire to return home mirrors our own search for purpose and belonging. Likewise, the challenges we face—whether on a muddy hill or in daily life—test and shape us. Deep within each of us is a longing to grow, to become more, and to fulfill the purpose for which God created us. If we are honest, we all seek moments of challenge that reveal and refine our character, much like Odysseus braving his trials.

I believe that God is wholeheartedly concerned with us becoming more like His Son and that He will stop at nothing to see that we get there. We were created in His image, and we were made to glorify and give Him praise.  Lest we lose sight of how to accomplish this without paying attention to His son, who gave us the example as well as others, we will never become who He created us to be.  I suggest there is a relationship between the Christian walk and “obstacle course racing”!

The Christian walk and obstacle course racing share striking parallels. Both are filled with struggles, uphill battles, and moments of victory—mirroring the journey of discipleship. Just as a runner needs essential gear to conquer a challenging course—like shoes for varied terrains or gloves for challenging obstacles—a disciple is called to equip themselves with spiritual gear (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Ephesians 6: 11). A helmet protects the head, just as salvation guards our minds. Gloves provide grip in slippery conditions, much like the shield of faith helps us hold firm in times of doubt. These tangible examples make the metaphor vivid and memorable.

When was the last time you felt pressed to your limit? Perhaps it was during a tense meeting at work or while endlessly scrolling through social media that you felt pressure to compare yourself? In those moments, what piece of spiritual gear helped you stand your ground? Personal visualization like this can transform abstract preparedness into urgent practice. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Ephesians 6: 13-15). The 'shoes of peace' serve as more than just a doctrinal idea; they can alter our day-to-day interactions. Imagine, for instance, how wearing these shoes might transform a tense commute tomorrow into an opportunity for kindness and patience. Instead of rushing in frustration, the readiness of the gospel of peace invites us to approach each encounter with calm and understanding, thereby positively impacting those around us. This shift from pretending to be religious to putting the spiritual disciplines into practice in our daily lives reveals how significant these spiritual garments can be in our relationships and interactions.

Being called to withstand the day of evil when it takes place is a challenge, but when it does, we can remember to stand firm in the truth that comes from the word. Remember the word planted deeply in your heart?  And the breastplate of righteousness, doing what is right, not showing others how right you are, but holding onto what is right, is the key. I dont know anyone who does this perfectly, but we try, and that is the key. And finally, wearing shoes that are quick to promote peace, not a war monger ready to fight, but being peaceable as much as is in your power to do so. In all circumstances, take up the shield of faith.

The shield of faith and the helmet of salvation are potent reminders that salvation is for everyone willing to obey, but for Christians, it is a complete assurance (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Ephesians 6:16-17). This assurance of salvation is more than mere comfort; it acts as the mental fortitude that sustains a disciple through life's trials. In psychological terms, certainty about one's spiritual destination can fuel perseverance, much as a runner's confidence in reaching the finish line drives them to complete a race. Much like Odysseus’s desire for his home country, he was willing to travel on the seas and deal with Poseidon's taunts and agitations on a makeshift raft for his family and country.

As we close out 2025 and prepare for the seasons ahead, consider, for instance, the work of psychologist Angela Duckworth on grit and perseverance, which highlights how long-term commitment and resilience are key to progress in both spiritual and secular pursuits. Duckworth (2016, p. 250), for instance, describes the perseverance of the Nordic territory of Finland, which is often described as sisu, an approximate translation of grit. This profound connection between theology and psychology reinforces our motivation or grit, urging us to remain steadfast on the path of discipleship.

We know we will face challenges ahead. Let us remember the true purpose behind donning our spiritual armor: to stand firm in our calling and shine as beacons of faith in a world in need of hope. This journey isn't just about personal growth, but about embodying the love and truth of our beliefs in every interaction and moment of our lives. Let this resolve send you out with renewed energy, ready to face whatever battles come your way, knowing that your armor not only protects but empowers you to fulfill your highest calling.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

References:

Butler, S., & Dirda, M. (2013). The Iliad and the Odyssey: Homer. Barnes and Noble.

Duckworth, A. (2016). Grit: The power of passion and perseverance. Scribner.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)

Beyond the Bodily Fluids: Dignity, Duty, and a Very Long Cleanup

 

"a helper's heart" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

    The relentless beeping of monitors slices through the ward's stillness; each call light, alarm, beeping, or ring is a reminder of the fragile balance between life and crisis. The telementy unit is beginning to wake as the night shift ends, their twelve-hour march wrapping up bed baths, answering last-minute call lights, updating charts, sending blood samples off as the tube station “sucks” another carrier off to the laboratory, the nurse scurrying to complete the previous night's orders. My fatigued mind, belly full of at least one cup of coffee, heart pounding and racing in anticipation of what to expect after the report from the nightshift nurse, and the handoff is complete as the outgoing nurse says under her breath, “Good luck.” I can now hear an echo of the tension that fills the air. It's another day on the telemetry unit, a haven for patients grappling with cardiac disease and a host of other health challenges.

    The telemetry unit is composed of patients with cardiac disease and a myriad of other health issues. Most of the patients have uncontrolled blood pressure, out-of-control diabetes, struggle with their weight, and are non-compliant with medical prescriptions and medicines. Most patients, but not all, are ESL (English as a second language) or limited English speakers. Considering language barriers and a general literacy that falls short of a standard American high school education, one can see the dilemma of administering clinical therapy to these patient populations. As nurses, we all take courses and education to provide culturally competent care, because every human being has the right to affordable, high-quality care.

    Take, for instance, an elderly patient in her late sixties, female, from Guatemala, who struggles with both high blood pressure and diabetes. With limited English proficiency and understanding of her treatment plan, she often misses taking her medications, leading to frequent hospital visits. Her story exemplifies how communication barriers can significantly impact health outcomes. To mitigate these challenges, healthcare providers can employ practical communication strategies, such as using interpreters to facilitate understanding, using language line services to teach back to confirm patient comprehension, and providing written instructions in the patient's native language. These efforts can help bridge the communication gap and improve the quality of care.

    In the telemetry unit, staffing ratios are increasingly stretched, and resources are limited, exacerbating the challenges of delivering effective care. This situation highlights not just an individual crisis but a systemic issue within the healthcare infrastructure.

    One particular day, I finally got a less-than-adequate report on my four patients from the previous night shift RN, who was also a traveler, and when a report from the previous nurse (whose report starts out, “I barely survived.”, you already know you are going to get hammered. An incomplete handoff not only adds stress to an already demanding situation, but it can also directly affect patient safety, potentially leading to dangerous oversights or mistakes. To mitigate these issues, adopting structured handoff protocols, such as SBAR (Situation, Background, Assessment, Recommendation), can enhance clarity and ensure critical information is communicated effectively. It's also essential to actively verify and clarify any missing information before the previous shift staff leave, either by asking direct questions or using a checklist to confirm key details. Advocating for a safer handoff process, for instance, through regular feedback sessions and training, can prepare staff to deal with existing communication gaps in real time.

    I had barely finished getting a report on all of my patients when I overheard “Who has room 94?” from the central nursing station as the night-shift staff lingered around like tattered zombies, wrapping up their charts and stumbling out of the unit with sunglasses on to avoid direct sunlight. I reply with a confident, “I do,” and one of the nurse assistants on the unit says, “The patient in the room, you gotta come see this!”

    I hightail it over there to the room, though not at a code-blue speed and certainly not at a stroll through the park pace either. I get to the patient's room, and the first thing I notice is a middle-aged, confused patient standing in front of the door, and the patient is buck naked. I did not know why the patient was naked, nor could I see where the patient’s hospital gown was located. I recalled, though, that the bathroom door directly behind the patient was wide open, and I could see a trail of toilet paper on the floor (and not in the toilet where it should be). The single detail of my observation that immediately caught my attention was a clear view of the patient's IV that is no longer in their vein but on their left forearm, hanging on by a small piece of tape, actively bleeding. Assuming the patient had pulled it out, my first steps were to ensure the patient's immediate safety and call for assistance from the team. I quickly assessed the need to prevent further injury or a fall and perform first aid on the now non-functioning intravenous line, the lifeline to saving any patient, which is a working I.V. line that was now self-discontinued. My training kicked in, reminding me to prioritize infection control immediately. I ensured my gloves and gown were secure before addressing the loose IV and the hygiene issues. Securing the environment was critical. It was crucial to maintain a calm demeanor amid the chaos to prevent further stress for the patient and ensure my actions were guided by established protocols. With the team's help, we systematically began restoring order and addressing the situation. Grabbing a blanket, I draped it over the patient.

    What sent my mind through the roof was the room's shocking state when I entered. The distinctive smell and aroma hinted at an infection, an all-too-common presence in hospital settings. Ask any RN, and they will tell you that dealing with cases like these is no easy task. The room was a scene of sheer chaos, a manifestation of the struggles we face. It was clear that the situation demanded immediate attention and careful management.

    There was poop on the side rails of the bed and on the foot of the bed as well as the sheets the patient had previously been lying on, and there was poop on the bathroom walls and the handles of the bathroom door. There was visible poop on both of the patient's hands and on the buttocks, of course, and on the patient's chest and abdomen. In that moment, a wave of frustration and helplessness washed over me. It was one of those rare instances where the magnitude of the situation felt overwhelming, challenging my patience and resolve. Yet, amid the patient's dire straits and confusion, I realized that confronting these emotions head-on was essential to maintaining empathy and focus. Taking a few deep breaths, I reminded myself of the importance of staying composed. I engaged in positive self-talk, telling myself that I could handle the situation and reassure the patient effectively, although I do not believe that the patient clearly understood the gravity of the situation. Later, I knew I would need to debrief with my team to process the experience and discuss any improvements for future incidents.

    This was the worst case of a confused patient I had ever been responsible for. I said to myself, 'How am I going to clean this crap up?' I meant that literally. I had never in my career seen more poop painted on the exterior of a hospital room. I took a deep breath, gathered some supplies, gowned up, and, with the nursing assistant, headed straight into the room to clean this patient up and to start a new IV. As we entered, we quickly assessed the tasks at hand and divided them efficiently. I carefully managed the patient's IV and monitored vital signs, ensuring the IV remained secure while adhering to infection control protocols. Meanwhile, the nursing assistant and I focused on cleaning the patient and addressing hygiene concerns, reassuring the patient throughout the process to keep them calm. We engaged our environment of care stakeholders to assist with mopping, wiping, and refurbishing, ensuring clean linen and toiletries for a clean bathroom and patient room, and allowing our housekeeping staff to bring the patient's room back up to a clean state. 

    This clear division of responsibilities enabled us to efficiently restore order in a challenging situation. This all happened before 7:30 a.m. Despite the chaos, moments like these reminded me of the critical importance of resilience and teamwork in nursing. By focusing on the patient's dignity above the mess, I learned that quality care goes beyond physical treatment; it involves providing psychological comfort in distressing situations. This experience reaffirmed my commitment to treating each patient with respect, regardless of the circumstances, and highlighted the importance of collaboration in navigating demanding scenarios.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

From Classroom to Code Blue: How my First Emergency Changed Me

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   How often do you find yourself pondering the inevitability of life’s end? It's a sobering thought, and in my line of work, it is a daily reality-some patients reach the end of life. I believe that God has shown me his words are truthful through the experiences I have had working in the hospital. I have told others and shared my personal testimony that He has shown me how short life is through my work in the hospital. One of the ways that God's word comes to life for me is the Psalms, “Lord, reveal to me the end of my life and the number of my days. Let me know how transitory I am.” This may not come as a surprise, but it is not meant as amusement. It's a simple truth. 

    I want to share my first coding experience because it reflects the fragility of life. In the hospital, people get sick. Some we diagnose and treat, and they recover and leave, yet I've seen my share of other patients who come into the hospital and never leave. However, amid the solemnity, there is a quiet grace that often accompanies these end-of-life moments, an unspoken hope that lingers like a gentle whisper. It's a reminder that even in the face of life's end, there is a profound beauty in the time we have, enriching the morbid side of life that becomes very real when you work daily in intensive care units and procedure areas, constantly reminded of life's brevity. What scenes from your own life remind you that time is finite, prompting you to cherish each moment a little more deeply?

    My first experience with death was as a new graduate in the unit. This was a cardiac specialized unit. During each shift, we had five nurses caring for ten patients, providing a 2:1 nurse-to-patient ratio, with a relief charge nurse on hand. The unit was overseen by a director, and we had the support of a clinical nurse specialist. The position provided me with an opportunity, directly out of RN school, to practice under an emergency permit with the expectation that I would take my examination and licensing boards within six months of being hired. It was a great opportunity. I was enrolled in a new grad residency program that placed me in direct mentorship with a senior RN for 6 months, and I attended classes taught by nurse educators while working part-time in the unit and earning a salary. The mentorship extended to 12 months beyond the initial program. I thought I knew enough as an RN graduate, but I soon learned and was humbled in my first year caring for sick patients in the unit.

    Sadly, the very first time I coded a patient in their middle adult years who recently had heart surgery, I remember when the patient came into the unit and reported not "feeling right." The patient had just recently completed a physical endurance event, and their body weight and frame revealed nothing out of the ordinary. As a new nurse, I had been studying in my off time about our patient population of heart failure, but I did not recognize at the time how sick the patient was. I started electrocardiogram (ECG) monitoring, which continuously monitors the heart’s electrical conduction, and we continuously monitored a waveform on the monitor, along with blood pressure and pulse oximetry, to provide up-to-date vital signs regarding the patient's hemodynamics. Our physician had ordered that the patient receive a SWAN/GANS catheter, a lumen catheter inserted from the right side of the neck through the jugular vein and placed just above the right atrium of the heart in the superior vena cava. You can think of it as a pressure gauge for the heart; it measures pressures in the different chambers and provides real-time data on heart function, specifically cardiac output, which is how much blood the heart pumps in a given amount of time. If the heart is weak and damaged, the cardiac output is not that of a healthy heart. I hope this makes sense. Anyway, my patient’s heart was sick and needed to be optimized.

    In the medical sense, optimization for patients with worsening heart failure means the healthcare team starts using medicines to reduce the workload on the heart. This is accomplished in different ways, such as lowering volume through fluid restriction and diuresis with medications, as well as by using medicines that affect the heart directly, such as positive inotropes, beta-blockers, and anti-arrhythmic medications, to assist the heart and improve heart function. For example, some patients who have undergone a heart transplant take other anti-rejection medications and immunosuppressive medications to further optimize the body so that it does not aggressively reject foreign tissue. As I left for the day, a mix of emotions ran through me—anxiety about the precarious balance we had to maintain in optimizing the patient's treatment and a determination to make a difference in their care. My patient was admitted to the unit overnight, and I left that evening and would return the next day. In our unit, we would practice continuity of care, and basically, if you were on shift and were coming back the next day, you would get the same assignment as the previous one because you knew the patient. It makes giving reports a lot easier because you are familiar with the patient.

    The next day, when I came into work, I received my patient assignments.  I took care of this individual the next day and, after a brief rundown of the night before, assumed care of my patient and began my assessment.  As an RN, we start the shift with a thorough patient assessment and chart checks, including reviewing completed physician orders and administering prescribed therapies.  I remember doing my physical assessment, talking to the patient, listening to the lungs and heart, and at the time, the lungs were clear. I also listened to the heart sounds; S1 and S2 were faint. Those are the “lub-dub, lub-dub” sounds one hears when auscultating (listening) over the heart.  I remember them being faint, and I checked the EKG on the monitor and saw the voltage was low. The EKG showed a dampened or weak rhythm compared to a normal rhythm.

    The patient's demeanor began to shift as the morning wore on. They sat slightly hunched, their breathing more labored, and though the monitor still showed a pulse oximetry above 94% on room air, something felt different. Their skin took on a clammy, pallid tone, and a fine sheen of perspiration covered their forehead. When the patient whispered, "I don't feel well," the vulnerability in their voice resonated deeply with me. In that moment, I recognized the importance of not just clinical data but listening closely to what my patients were telling me. This became a turning point in my practice—reminding me that behind every monitor and assessment is a person whose words and instincts can reveal what numbers sometimes cannot. From that day forward, I promised myself to always honor the human experience in my patient assessments, especially in those quiet moments when a patient expresses discomfort or fear.

    But I, caught up in my routine, continued to assess my other patient that morning, following the usual process. I began by entering each room, quickly scanning the environment for safety hazards and equipment issues. I checked the monitors for vital signs, greeted my patients to gauge their responsiveness, and examined the intravenous drips—confirming flow rates, dosages, and that all IV sites were intact and free from complications. This was my standard workflow before moving on to the comprehensive, head-to-toe assessment later in the shift.

    When it was time for morning medications, I carefully prepared and administered oral medications, including Lasix—a potent diuretic that helps the heart by reducing excess fluid in the body. I helped patients with breakfast, updated my charts, and checked for new physician orders for our unit secretary to process. To put the importance of Lasix into perspective: think about how, every time you drink water and later urinate, your body is quietly working to maintain a delicate internal balance. In healthy individuals, the heart and kidneys work in harmony to maintain fluid levels just right. As nurses, we aim to support and restore that natural equilibrium, especially for those whose hearts can no longer manage on their own.

    However, in the presence of heart failure, a diseased heart, or acute rejection by the body, if you are taking in fluid, the heart is unable to compensate for the increased fluid volume, and the patient does not make urine to remove this extra volume because heart function is poor.  To assist the body in ridding itself of excess volume and to reduce the workload on the heart, diuretics help the kidneys expel excess fluid.   My patient received a dose of Lasix, and I remember leaving the room to continue with my activities of the day.

    I remember our unit had a nurse assistant, telling me that my patient had reported feeling 'dizzy.' This time, I immediately entered the room and recorded the blood pressure at 65/30. The patient was lying in bed, and I asked how they were doing; again, the patient reported feeling 'lightheaded.' I rechecked the blood pressure; however, the monitor did not register a sufficient systolic, diastolic, MAP, or mean arterial pressure. More importantly, the blood pressure was less than 50, and I knew this was not good, as I could not feel a radial pulse at all; it was weak and thready. I recall the unsettling sensation of the pulse slipping away beneath my fingertips, the warmth diminishing with each passing moment, leaving a cold imprint of urgency in its absence.

    Appropriately, I called one of the senior nurses into the room and reapplied the pressure. This time, the blood pressure was 50/34. The patient was reporting increased dizziness and not feeling well, and we immediately started intravenous dopamine to support the blood pressure. Not long after beginning the dopamine, the patient grabbed my arm and told me, "Brian, tell my family that I love them." I remember telling the patient, "You're going to tell them yourself. You are going to be alright; I am here." Those were the last words the patient ever spoke, and I was the last person to whom they were spoken. Imagine hearing that in your first months as a new graduate nurse, unprepared for this. The following moment I recall is a mega code that lasted at least 3 hours. Trying to resuscitate this patient was difficult and tiresome. We ran the code with CPR and drugs, and even a cardio-thoracic surgeon came to the bedside to put the patient on ECMO (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation). ECMO is a procedure in which a doctor inserts large-bore catheters into one’s femoral artery and vein, which are then connected to a machine that circulates and oxygenates the blood because the heart is unable to do so. It is incredibly invasive and gruesome to do in a chaotic environment.

    Walking out of the unit that day, exhausted and emotionally spent, I realized that nursing is as much about compassion and presence as it is about clinical skill. I learned that sometimes, despite doing everything right, the outcome can still be tragic—and that being there for a patient in their final moments is an act of profound humanity. This experience taught me to listen more closely to my patients, to trust my instincts, and to never underestimate the impact of a simple, reassuring word or gesture. Above all, I learned that every life, no matter how brief or fragile, deserves dignity, respect, and care. These lessons continue to shape me, both as a nurse and as a person, reminding me that in the face of loss, there is still space for empathy and growth.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

No More Hiding: Notes from 2 1/2 Years Sober

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In the journey of life, we often encounter choices that shape our paths and leave lasting impressions. Picture this: a young boy in Texas, peering over the fence of adolescence, clutching a cold Miller Lite in one hand and a Marlboro cigarette in the other. It was 8th grade, and the allure of rebellion seemed irresistible. The stress of fitting in and the desire for a quick escape from school's pressures fueled my actions. This image of naïve defiance serves as both a beginning and a powerful lesson. My story unfolds as a cautionary guide, revealing the lessons I learned the hard way, so you don’t have to walk the same treacherous road.

When I was a young boy, I started drinking and smoking—not to glorify those choices, but to be honest about my journey. These experiences shaped who I am today. I acknowledge my past, but I use it as a reminder of how far I’ve come and to encourage anyone reading this that change is possible. I’ve made mistakes; smoking and drinking are just a few. During my time in the Marines, these habits became a way to fill empty hours, but they never led to true fulfillment. What truly made a difference was having a few good friends by my side. Whenever I felt tempted to slip back into old habits, my buddies were there to support me, offering healthier alternatives and encouragement. If you’re facing similar struggles, seek out friends who lift you up, or try new activities—physical training, hobbies, or simply talking things through with someone you trust. These positive steps are not just distractions; they’re stepping stones to a richer, healthier life. Remember, every small choice in the right direction is a victory worth celebrating.

Although I used to enjoy a good whiskey or beer every so often, I have now been sober for over two and a half years—not a single drop has touched my lips. This change has brought real rewards: improved health, more energy, greater focus, and deeper, more meaningful time with my loved ones. The clarity and renewed sense of purpose I’ve gained are worth every challenge along the way. For those in the military or any high-responsibility role, the consequences of overindulgence can be severe—a DUI, for example, can delay promotions and impact your future. But the benefits of sobriety go far beyond avoiding adverse outcomes. They open doors to stronger relationships, self-respect, and the chance to be fully present in your own life. If you’re considering a change, know it’s possible and that the rewards are real. Choose progress over perfection, and celebrate every step forward.

I used to drink Imperial Stouts and bourbon now and then, but I’ve chosen to leave them behind—and I share these moments to celebrate how far I’ve come. There’s incredible strength in choosing sobriety, and it’s something to be proud of every day. Building a support network is key: spend time with friends who encourage healthy choices, and seek out activities that bring you joy. When you’re feeling down, reach out to someone you trust—connection is a powerful antidote to old habits. And always, always have a plan for getting home safely. Instead of focusing on what you’re giving up, celebrate what you’re gaining: new hobbies, community involvement, and a more profound sense of fulfillment. These commitments don’t just protect your health—they open up new, rewarding chapters in your life. If the journey feels overwhelming, remember that you’re not alone. Take that small, proactive step—call a friend, try something new, or seek support. Every effort counts, and your story can inspire others, too.

I want to share a quick story. At a work Christmas party a few years ago, I had two beers with dinner. As my wife and I were driving home around 10 p.m., we approached a DUI checkpoint. The sight of flashing red and blue lights ahead made my heart pound. Reacting to my anxiety, I made a poor decision and asked my wife to switch seats with me right before the checkpoint. We assumed we were in the clear after passing through, but soon sirens blared as police cars pulled us over. Surrounded by officers, they asked my wife if she'd been drinking, and she truthfully said no. They then turned to me and asked if I had been driving earlier. I admitted that I had driven after having two beers. An officer informed us that a car behind had reported the switch. In that moment, I had what I now call an 'Integrity Checkpoint', where the truth had to come out, consequences be damned. Thankfully, after a sobriety test, which I passed, they let us go with a stern warning. The lesson is clear: do not drink and drive, and always have a safe way to get home. Reflect on your choices and ask yourself: Who will you call before your next drink to ensure you have a secure way home?

Together in the struggle,

Brian

Stripped Down to Strength: Becoming a Marine

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I was in the second phase of Marine Corps boot camp at Edson Range, where we learned to handle the M16A2 rifle with precision. Sundays were usually for writing letters home, polishing boots, and enjoying a short chapel service. But this Sunday stood out. It left me pondering: What does true strength mean, and how do I cultivate it through this particular situation? What does this moment have to do with becoming a Marine?

The California heat filled the squad bay, mixing with the smell of sweat and nervous anticipation. My rack mate and I sat together on our splintered footlockers, our backs sticking to the metal bed frames, while the scribe recruit closed the curtains for privacy. Silence settled in, heavy and unyielding, as if the air itself was holding its breath. I glanced at my rack mate, meeting his eyes just briefly before we both looked away, unsure of what to expect. A shuffle of feet, an awkward cough, and then the moment stretched a little longer. Then we heard the order: "Hug your rack mate."

We sat there, arms around each other, roughly thirty-five pairs of recruits forming a circle, all of us feeling awkward and unsure. The hug itself wasn’t what embarrassed me. It was being stripped of everything: no camouflage fatigues, no green t-shirt, no white underwear, no black boot socks, no comfort, and not even our pride. We were as exposed as we had ever been, both physically and emotionally.

In that hot, shaded squad bay, I held my equally embarrassed rack mate. We were both sweating, and the smell was intense; the odors of perspiration clung to our foreheads, chests, and bodies. For the first time, I wondered: What did I get myself into? Amidst the sensory barrage, a fragment of my childhood flashed before me—would that Gulf Coast Texas kid, dreaming of being a Rambo or the next Commando, the hero I saw in movies, make it out of here? Here I was, facing the grime but feeling a flicker of resolve inside me, a quiet reminder of the strength I had always sought. This raw, uncomfortable moment contrasted starkly with my youthful aspirations, but perhaps this was the challenge I needed for transformation.

This might not be the introduction you expected. I'm not offering a polished self-help book. Instead, you'll find a carefully curated collection of journal entries and notes I've gathered over the years. At first, I wanted to write a memoir for my children—a handbook from Dad. As the idea grew, I realized I could share my story with more people. No matter who reads this, my goal is the same: to share my journey as a U.S. Marine, father, husband, registered nurse, and follower of Jesus. If anyone questions my right to write, I rely on my training and experience. At its core, this memoir seeks to reach anyone striving for resilience and purpose, guiding you to find strength in your own life's challenges, just as I did in mine.

When I arrived in San Diego in July and stepped onto the yellow footprints as a recruit from Texas, the drill instructors met me right away. Amid the chaos and noise, one of their voices cut through like a blade: "Welcome to the United States Marine Corps recruit depot San Diego, get off the bus!" That single line felt like a thunderbolt, asserting their authority without question. I never doubted their credentials, education, or authority. Before the Marines, my father filled that role, with my mother close behind, then grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, coaches, and family friends who kept me in line.

You might wonder about my credentials as a writer. Honestly, I have no formal qualifications, unless you count my military training and experience as a registered nurse. But let me ask you this: Have you ever doubted your own qualifications? That feeling of vulnerability and uncertainty is something we all face at different points in our lives. As you join me on this journey through my story, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences and consider how your unique journey has equipped you in ways you might not expect.

Let’s talk about drill instructors. Their authority came from who they were, what they stood for, and how they carried themselves. When I first met them, their lean bodies and sharp uniforms said it all. No one told us about their training, backgrounds, or what their ribbons meant. They led by example—through their actions, words, and steady presence. Their esprit de corps was strong and confident. They weren’t personal trainers, CEOs, motivational speakers, professors, pastors, Olympians, or life coaches. They were disciplined, battle-tested, and had finished tough training, including combat deployments and D.I. school. Their goal wasn’t just to turn boys into men, but to make us United States Marines. And they did.

I’m 51 years old and was born on 9/11. Over the years, I've faced my share of hurts, habits, and hang-ups—a phrase I learned from friends and mentors. Everyone has struggles, and I’ve spent a lot of time dealing with my own, including fighting for sobriety. Each of these struggles has served as a checkpoint in my journey, marking a point of challenge and growth. Sobriety became a milestone of resilience, parenting a lesson in patience and love, while faith offered a foundation for my values. Even with setbacks, I keep trying to set the example. I’m always learning and adapting, and I believe these checkpoints have given me insights worth sharing. While I first wrote this for my children, I realized it could speak to others, too, offering them a map of personal milestones to anticipate their own growth.

I’m writing this memoir to share my thoughts on what it takes to be strong—mentally, physically, and maybe even spiritually. As someone still learning, my words might come across as blunt, brash, or even boastful at times, and sometimes desperate or sad. Some parts are honest reflections on specific moments in my life, while others come from my time in the Marine Corps or working as a nurse. You’ll find conviction, vulnerability, motivation, and self-examination here. I wrote everything from the heart, just as I felt it.

To encapsulate this part of my journey, here's what I’ve learned: true strength is the steadfast resolve to face every challenge head-on, embracing the imperfections and lessons along the way. Think of it as your field order for life: adapt, overcome, and persist. Let's carry this mindset forward.

I am deeply grateful for the example the Marines set in my life, but I have found an even greater teacher: Jesus.

With humility and honesty, I share my many failed attempts to make life meaningful. I offer you these experiences—what has worked for me and what hasn’t—hoping they might help you too. My goal is to serve, not to seek honor, except the honor that belongs to God, who gave me the ability to write. I hope you’ll read with an open mind and find something useful.

You might wonder what the purpose was behind hugging my rack mate, completely exposed, for what felt like hours that day. That experience forced me to confront the reality that everything—even my dignity—could be stripped away. Only then could I truly begin to understand what it means to adapt and overcome. 

Together in the struggle,

Brian

Outgrown: How We Outgrow the Bullies Who Once Defined Us

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The late Eugene H. Peterson, a professor and lecturer turned church pastor, authored a readable Bible version called The Message, and one of the many letters that the first-century apostle Paul wrote to the residents of Corinth, Peterson has translated into words for the typical reader. The biblical text informs us why Paul was discussing his thorn in his side, or it could have been a particular ailment. Scholars agree that it was some form of affliction we can all relate to, meant to keep Paul humble and prevent him from getting a big head or an overinflated sense of self-esteem because of his connection with God. If we are open, we all relate to the text that Peterson updated, that I have been given a disability in life, which reminds me of my personal limits and the necessity of God's grace in my life (Peterson, 2002, 2 Cor. 12:7). The point is that such times I believe situations, circumstances and what we experience from others like shrewd interactions, ruthless behavior, and tough challenges are part of shaping our character as we mature.

I am currently catching up on the series "Stranger Things". The Netflix show is set to release another season this Thanksgiving holiday, so we are revisiting the pre-pandemic episodes, and I've grown quite fond of it. The series resonates with those of us who grew up in the eighties; in fact, I recognize every song it references. The producers have creatively told the story of good versus evil through a Dungeons & Dragons lens, infused with an eighties twist. It's engaging and relatable.

Although I never played Dungeons & Dragons consistently, I did have a basic paper character profile with entry-level powers. I managed to earn some money mowing lawns in my neighborhood, which I used to buy some cool multi-sided, variously colored dice in the seventh or eighth grade. I role-played a few times with childhood friends who lived down the street, but I eventually lost interest and never picked it up again during junior high.

The series describes the lives of a few kids who live in a relatively safe town, but there is a mirror image of the city that is the underworld in the show, reminiscent of good and evil. As such, the goon squad of nerdy kids tries to figure out ways to battle the dark forces affecting their town, displaying true friendship, camaraderie, and a sense of community to ward off the evil spirits, which I believe anyone can identify with in the on-screen story. If you were born in the seventies and eighties, hints of The Goonies come through in the Netflix series.  

Netflix has captured the point of view of the nerdy kid facing bullying from popular peers, but showing that they can be holders of great resolve, character, and true grit. There is not a single person who will not be reminded of their personal battles and experiences in overcoming life's challenges from adolescence to adulthood. These themes are common across all cultures throughout human history. For instance, the Israelites cried out to God, feeling like grasshoppers compared to the surrounding tribes that threatened them (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Numbers 13:33). This illustrates that giants in our lives are a common experience. The stories in scripture highlight how we can overcome them with God's assistance.

Many people are familiar with the heroic story of David and Goliath. Goliath, the Philistine warrior, was more than two feet taller than Shaquille O'Neal, could carry over 100 pounds of armor, and had extensive combat experience. He faced David, a young and healthy farm boy, but was ultimately defeated by the strength of God (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, 1 Samuel 17). This story reminds us that we often encounter challenges that seem overwhelming. However, with the support of friends, our faith, and God's strength, we can overcome these obstacles, endure with resilience, and grow from them. 

References:

Peterson, E. H. (2002). The Message Bible. NavPress.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)