I Am Not And Angel But I Do Love God

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

I tell myself I should be careful what I write. I always believe in truth no matter what.

I don't know if Hub Pages will approve of this hub either . I can not speak for all young men, but maybe there could be a sand pebbles worth of scientific interest in this hub because science, and psychologists, and psychiatrists, and concerned citizens may want to know what can be done to lessen the impact on parents when their children are in harms way. I guess what I am saying is that parents of disabled children may need some form of psychological support when they receive bad news. I don't know the answers.

It is so easy to paint a perfect portrait of yourself if your a writer because you have all the tools at hand to portray yourself as you wish.

I really wanted with all my heart for Becky to have a normal life. Every little girl should have the dream of being what she wants to be. I wanted the very best for Becky, and Joann.

It was like not living in this world being me. I was a caring person , but I became very bored with small talk very easily. I have always liked good people, but I never had any use for the really awful ones , or the worst criminals that walked the earth.

I became a police officer to seek and escape from thinking and worrying about my wife, and child every waking moment of my life. My mind needed a real exciting hobby. Yes, I said hobby ! I never considered police work dangerous. I considered it to be a place to escape. Guns, shooters, criminals , and all that ridiculous nonsense was child's play in my life compared to what was crushing the life out of me. Something inside me was dragging me down , and this may sound a little flaky, but I felt like the devil in hell wanted me to die because everything began to feel dreary, gray, and hopeless. Images of my wife, and child seemed gloomy and sad to me. I probably needed to check into the crazy house for advice, and maybe a little shock treatment might have been helpful. The only problem was that if I went to such a place, I would not have been very productive income wise to my family. I could still work, and I could still buy bread, and milk if I could keep myself working.

I had a truly professional self controlled ability to use fire power . I sincerely wanted with all my desires to go one on one with the most vicious, volatile, dangerous armed criminals on earth. It was like a dark fantasy of going to combat to destroy evil with everything that had become mechanical in me. Sounds like some kind of bad karate Marshall arts movie, but that was how I enjoyed thrills. I loved my wife, and child, but I think I felt like a failure, that I was more a liability than and asset to them because of so many ridiculous reasons.

Inside me I was a troubled person. I had fallen to the mercy of my emotions. I laid my life on the line because I was also tired. I was tired, very tired, and so fatigued , and gone inside. I could not deal with our baby being crippled. I cried too much, and could never stop crying in so many rotten lonely places. I wanted to be a better stronger man, but I could not help Joann emotionally because I was torn up inside, and weak, and to far gone in my own lost world. I loved our little baby, and my wife, but I was no longer the kind of man that amounted to anything worthwhile.

Do you know who the real heroes are in this world ? There not a platoon of Marines, or a task force of Navy Seals, or forty black belt karate Marshal arts CIA secret agents. Your heroes are the milk man, the ditch diggers, the post man, the secretary, the lady that works in a candy factory as a laborer, the lady that scrubs floors to put milk, and bread in their homes to feed their children. The people that work hard, perspire in the sun for for a wage, the people that do things that no one else wants to do that are inglorious. It is is who can stick it out to support his , or her family that is your heroes, or heroins.

Maybe I was sort of saved by the police. They took me in like I was a little brother. They knew I was hurting so deeply with some weird kind of self destructive mechanisms. However the exposure to crime enables a law person to understand the intricate needs of victims of crime. When you see the reality of crime all you really want to do is to help good people, and to keep the peace, and to keep people from dying. In a strange way being a law officer is a great education in reality. You have no time to cry about your personal difficulties in life when someone is bleeding to death from a gun shot wound, or if a kid is dying in your arms from a car accident. What you learn how to do is to pray for people to live, or survive in a often challenging world.

I will not go into all the details, and to all the circumstances, but I will say that fear never existed in my life, and that was a plus in police work maybe. I really was a wreck , and so truly wanting rest, and it did not matter how because I was so deeply troubled, and I never could stop worrying over Becky. I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried in the darkest silent cold, and lonely places away from people, and only when I could not help but to break down. I was so ashamed of what was happening to me, and in the presence of other people.

I saved lives. I have no idea how many. I think that helped to give me a since of self worth. A bad situation just seemed to pull me toward it. Hundreds of people ran for their lives when a fuel loaded eighteen wheeler was on fire. I jumped into my patrol truck, and took off into the direction of the burning monster. I weaved into and out of snake like roads within a refinery to go to that so, and so, and when I got there it was a consuming beast of gigantic fire, and flames under a massive propane tanker truck. In the name of God Christ our Lord In Heaven if that truck would have exploded, the refinery would have blown up , and would have killed a hell of a lot of people. Yards away were the fuel loading racks for other eighteen wheelers. Everyone was running to get the living hell out of that place.

It was the truck, and I, and God. I threw water on the flames, and filled buckets to keep throwing more while calling fire fighters, and fire teams to move like lightening , and those good people did. I sure as hell wish someone would have given me a damn medal, but the big dogs had to cover their tails like it never happened. It was just another duty I guess. I did receive a commendation once before for preventing and earlier explosion during a rain storm, but why exhaust your ears with all that baloney too .

I do not know how in the world I am still alive. I guess one of these days fate will catch up with me, and I might slip on a bar of Palmolive soap while scrubbing myself in the shower, fall, or crack my head someday to make up for the dozen times I should have been obliterated .

Guns did not bother me. Rather than bother with them I preferred to have heart to heart talks with men with weapons. They don't really want to shoot you if your not holding a gun when your walking toward them. However don't take my advice unless you know what in the hell your doing. I depended on a lot of factors. The study of body language helps, but it does not if your dealing with someone that does not fit into a particular mold. Do not face a shooter would be wise advice. The best advice is to let professionals deal with gunmen. I never met anyone yet that could read minds. It all depends on God, and a little wisdom, prayers, and something called hope maybe because it can be as dangerous as Russian roulette.

I saved a girl's life. I saved my mother's life. I tried to save a young boys life, but the poor sweet soul died in my arms. I saw two teenagers slaughtered like lambs, killed instantly. I guarded a paralyzed girl that was shot by a killer that killed her boy friend. I faced gun barrels, and walked into the muzzles of rifles, revolvers, and pistols to save people .

I protected the refinery three times from near explosions , and worked a strike , and protected hundreds of workers, and people.

There is a part of me that is cool, and when everything is in danger, and about to be destroyed, that is when I am in my comfort zone , and when that mechanical tool in me clicks in to deal with extreme danger. I was once backed up by forty police officers armed to their teeth with rifles, carbines, with high powered rifles when the force thought I was down, but it was all a misinterpretation by officers on a police radio.

I never abused the little bit of authority I had. I was a young man in my twenties , and thirties when I worked with the police, and in security work.

I really became bored with violence. It truly has the taste of bitter brass. I grew tired of wearing guns, leather, uniforms, bullet belts, handcuffs ,and holsters. I only did all of that stuff to keep my mind off of what happened to my wife, and our little baby.

I really had to find some help so I had to have a serious talk with God. So I prayed to God for God to give me peace in my heart so that I could try to be strong for Becky, and Joann. I was strong for the world, but failed my family, so I prayed to God to hopefully be saved.

I needed anger, resentment, and some vengeance out of my heart. I asked God to help me to love , more than to be troubled. I was all twisted up in the beginning, and I carried sorrow for what seemed like hundreds of years. I just had to talk to God.

I think I have always loved what is good, and precious, and sweet in life.

This is not about me, not really. This is all about what I love, and cherish, and everything I love that I hold dear to my heart, and is worth being loved. My life has been nothing more than shadows in the wake of my dreams, and desires. I am so old, and forever tired, for the decades have drained me of everything that I have ever been worth. Maybe the only beautiful, and wonderful things I have now are love, and if this is true, this is all anyone ever really needs the most in life.

One final thought, don't always judge people by their words because words, and thoughts, and emotions can be subject to change. People can change. Maybe I have changed for the better, and hopefully not for the worst, but never the less we all continue to change like the chameleons, not all of us, but some of us.

If God Can love me, he can love anyone.

God Bless Everyone.