Thanks God...for what you haven't given me

Soul Parole 2 Preview....

"Soccer Moms' Please Drive Thru"...

As an addict I have a thing about taking on baggage. I love baggage big and small. I hoard it. The more emotionally painful the package the more I can obsess about it. The more rotten the deed done to another in my past the bigger the package grows in my mind. I caress it and beat myself to bits with it. From a passing comment probably not even meant for me to a second grade fist fight, I remember it all. I have a database of emotional unfinished business that used to make my life unbearable.

The pressure, guilt, remorse, shame and self-loathing created the need to try to escape myself for those many years through bottle and drug. Addicts live emotionally not intellectually or logically. Our emotions make our decisions in most cases. I reacted emotionally then would sort out the fallout from my behavior. We remember everything by our PERCEPTION of the emotional impact people and situations had on us or we had on them. That is why we create chaos in others lives. It is for the emotional insanity and drama. It is our ultimate drug. Chaos.

As our mind clears and we begin to work recovery strategies we try to reduce the baggage which in turn lessens the desire to use. We begin to feel comfortable in our own skins and minds. We try to go back through the rubbish pile that was our past and clean up the joint. The people we have hurt and lied, cheated and stolen from whether it be financially, emotionally or physically are met face to face and we come clean with a sincere desire to make things right. Sometimes it works out and there is a happy ending. Other times we get a dressing down. Still other times we are told that we had no impact at all.

 All of the reactions are growing experiences and are important if long term sobriety is to be achieved. If a flower wants to grow it needs space in the pot or its' roots will rot and it will die. The same goes for drunks like me. I was going crazy from all the baggage. As I have cleared it away and made peace with my friends, family and self (to an extent) life gets better. God has given me the strength to stay clean and my mind is less packed with that crap. The worries, fears, pain and shame of who I was that paralyzed me is now setting me free by cleaning it up.

Now I am able to look at people in the eye with confidence and honesty. I can be a true friend. I can be of use not a user. I can sit with Tommy Connolly and not want to stab the guy in the eye with a fork! Wherever I run to I will always be there to meet me. That is a fact. It gets a little bit easier to hang with me the more I get right with God, man and me.

There are some people I can't make things right with. Some are dead. Some have new lives and I can't disrupt their happy harmony with my horror show rewind. Some I can't find but am ready to make things right if I find them. In these cases I try to be of service in other areas. On one occasion I stole something from a store that I could not go back to for fear of Shaw Shank Redemption. My mentor had me buy dog food in the amount of the item taken and had me take it to the humane society. Perfect! Karma square! I felt better that I was able to make the situation right. In a few years I will go back and make the situation right with the store. The point is that baggage was removed and I am a bit more okay with me because of the cleansing.

Yesterday I went with a friend to work at a food pantry here in Joliet. It is called the Family Outreach Food Pantry. I did not go there for any particular reason. My buddy called me at 6:10 am and asked if I wanted to volunteer at the food bank at 6:30. At first I was miffed because I hate to be late. Its' part of the new me. The only thing I was on time for in the past was beer sales and fresh bales. I said sure, and away we went. I can tell you now that God had my friend call me. There are no coincidences.

My vision of a food bank and food lines takes me back to my grade school history classes and the "Great Depression". You remember the old films and the market crash of 1929. There was the dust bowl and the people getting broth put into tin cups. I had a vision of homeless people coming up to the food bank and us handing little packages to the less fortunate. You know? It was going to be people in ratty cars and ripped clothes and winos and all the stereotypes I try so hard to fight when it comes to the labeling of alcoholics, addicts and those who suffer from mental disorders. I was doing the SAME thing before we got there.

We arrived at the tiny tavern parking lot where the food distribution point is and my friend was assigned to traffic control. WHAT? Traffic control at a food bank! He had the vest and the cool little flashlight with the pointy orange end on it and everything. I was jealous for a minute. I was assigned to fill orders. That was to put the boxes of food into the vehicles as they pulled up. This is where the story gets interesting, horrifying, eye opening and real folks. It was the real state of the STATES.

As the cars began to pull up I was taken aback. This can't be! There were a few beat up cars and a few homeless folks walked up whom I greeted with a grateful hello and a "God Bless you." The vast majority of the cars were "Soccer Moms." There were cars of all makes and models right up to a Tahoe with leather interior. The common denominator was all of these people "needed" food. There was no scam. Some folks looked down as I put on a smile and made a quick joke as to let them know it's a beautiful day as I slung the food into their back seats.

Single parents' pulled through with babies strapped in and we offered extra bread to those who wanted it. Every single family wanted it. Like alcoholism and addiction the people in the line to receive the food were a perfect cross section of Americana and it blew me away. Some folks looked as though they had stopped on break from work or were on the way to drop the kids at school. It was heartbreaking and gratifying at the same time. It is a day I won't forget.

In 90 minutes we handed out 300 boxes of food. When that ran out and we had only bread left people were happy and humbled to have a few loaves of that alone. I went home and sat silent for awhile. We are in trouble in this country. They have the food pantry every week and turn away more and more families.

I stood in front of my fridge and looked at the food and saw that our pantry was filled and it made me think of the times when I have said there is nothing to eat when in fact there was plenty. There just wasn't what I WANTED TO EAT in the fridge or pantry at that moment. I will be back to help again next Thursday at the  pantry.

 I remember not having food. I remember not wanting food because it would take up space my booze needed to fill. I also remember eating garbage when I wanted to eat and had to use my money to buy the booze. I've seen it from all sides. I think if there is anything that I can leave you with it is be thankful for what God has given you... and more thankful for what he hasn't...

Ain't life Zany!

I'm just back from the left coast. Man I dig California. There is nothing I can think of that I don't like about the Golden State except the traffic during rush hour. As a Chicagoan even that was just an irritation, not a real frustration. While I was there I sought professional treatment for a phobia I have had for 30 years. I'm not ready to talk about it yet but I am grateful to say that the therapy worked.

When I woke up in my hotel room after my 17 hour odyssey from Chicago I was greeted by an email I have waited and prayed on for years. It was an invitation to perform at the "Rising Star Showcase" at Zanie's Comedy Club on Wells street in the heart of Chicago. That particular Zanie's is the original location and the jewel of the franchise. It is THE comedy club a comic shoots for coming up in the Chicago circuit. It is one of the elite comedy franchise names in the country.

I had been trying for several months to get a spot on the showcase but was coming up short with every email of rejection. Last Sunday, July 24, 2011 Bert Haas confirmed a slot for me in a simple to the point reply. Be at the club at 7:30 August 1, 2011. Clean Material. Bring a Press Kit. That was the gist of it. I was thousands of miles from Squeaky and had no one to share my elation with. That is with the exception of the big guy upstairs.

During the 4 on and off years I went to Columbia College I would walk up Wells Street and stop by the famous club where the greats had performed. I knew Carlin and Brenner, Williams and Martin had stood in the doorway and on the stage just behind the locked doors. I imagined myself doing jokes there. The roar of the crowd deafening. I would slay 'em.

The reality of my life was that I was high or drunk and was on my way to the porn shops that were farther up Wells, beyond the sterile area where the comedy shrine stood. I had never picked up a pen and put it to paper. All my dreams of comedy and acting and simply living life as a responsible human being were in my head. It was all about what I was going to do tomorrow or someday. Not today. Today I was high. I just wanted to be high.

I flipped my way through the pages of the magazines feeding darker addictions that took me out of myself and my racing thoughts. It wasn't the pictures. It was the rush and the naughtiness, the long walk and the anticipation of what awaited me. Addiction is just as much, if not more ritual, than the actual using. It is the whole package, not just the high.

On the way back down to the school I would pass by the club and dream some more unrealistic dreams and hop on the train back to Mokena downing a six pack for the hour ride home. Zanie's always stayed in my mind. It was just in my mind like everything else. Little did I know that the club would come back into my reality when I was working for Harrah's Casino in Joliet.

In 1991, as a member of group sales, it was my job to go to bars and restaurants and set up trips to the casino. My drinking was at an all time high or low depending on perspective. My boss gave me a lead which  was Zanie's on Wells. I met a limo driver named Paul A. He was trying to set up trips from the club to the casino. We met and went to the club. I was mesmerized. My eyes went in and out of focus from awe and a killer hangover. I had made it back, still no jokes and a bigger drunk. My follow up was terrible with Paul and Harrah's and both relationships ended on poor terms.

Tonight I return to Zanies as a performer. At 8pm I will be humbled beyond words. I am sober. I am a new creature. By the grace of God and other alcoholics, addicts and those who suffer from depression I no longer feel alone or that I am a victim or martyr. The beauty I see in women is in my wife. I have put my pen to paper and have written jokes. I have also put my soul into these pages. I hope I have shown others that there is choice. You don't have to use. You do need to ask for help. You can't get sound advice from an unsound mind. When the light hits my face tonight and I stand where the legends have stood I don't care if a single sole laughs. I caught the dream and will remember it.

"The Quiet Man" and My Dad....

I woke up at exactly midnight today. It is the one year anniversary of my dad's death. Before you read on please understand that I am sad inside but glad that he is at peace. My life has changed dramatically in the year since his passing. Some of it good, some of it bad but all of it sobering and real.

I've heard it said that time heals all wounds. I didn't take the time to look up who said it. I disagree with the quote at this point. It seems harder now than when he went to meet his maker. He was in pain then and I prayed for him to be relieved of his human suffering. At 7:27pm July 21, 2010 God answered my prayers and brought him home.

I was watching "The Quiet Man," the John Wayne/Catherine O'Hara classic, set in Ireland, when I got the call from my sister at the hospital that he was gone. It was his favorite movie. Squeaky and I were watching the movie at the time because she had never seen it. I wanted to share Dad's favorite with her. It was kind of befitting that we were in the middle of THAT film when he passed on to paradise. Pop was big on making grand entrances and exits.

Tonight when I woke up at the stroke of midnight I actually called out his name hoping he would answer. I wanted him to give me a sign that he was here and safe up there. I wanted so desperately to know that he woke me up. Maybe he would knock a book off my night stand or rustle the blinds in an acknowledgement from the other side. He is here. I need only look in the mirror and see him. I resemble him more and more each day.

I am grateful that I was a good son in the final year and a half of his life. I was humbled to shower and shave him and help my second mom and sisters look after him whenever I could. I didn't do much but I did what I could. I can say that I was able to tell him all the things I wanted to say to him and heard all the things I wanted to hear from him in that last year and a half. I know he was proud of me. I know God got me sober when He did to be there for those days he needed me most.

At his memorial I did what amounted to a stand-up routine about him and his life. That is what he would have wanted. It was a celebration of his life. We laughed through tears and stories about his mannerisms and quirks. It was my best gig ever. I owe my sense of humor to him more than anyone. My Pop could tell a joke about darned near any subject. His laugh was a blend of Curly from "The Stooges" and Arnold Horshak from "Welcome back Kotter". It was infectious.

2 months later, in the first week of October, we had most of his ashes interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. The service was grand and patriotic. The twenty one gun salute was deafening. Each shot rattled me to my core. I broke down. All the emotion and stoicism I tried to display the previous 18 months collapsed and I imploded. My eyes flowed like rivers. I crawled around on the ground frantically searching for each of the ejected shells from the rifles that were fired in salute to SGT. Joseph Robert Connolly.

The remaining part of his ashes are to be returned to Ireland just as soon as I can get there. It will complete the wishes of two things my father was passionate about. He loved America and being a Vet and he loved Ireland. A bagpiper played Danny Boy and Amazing Grace as the tribute was ending. Danny Boy was his favorite Irish song.

The military service was held on a Friday. My second sister Chris Jaksy had been telling me for years to try acting to compliment my comedy. My feelings about mortality were sensitive and raw. I didn't want to leave any regrets on the table. She gave me some names of Chicago casting agents. I sent out my stats and thin resume to a few on Saturday. On Sunday I was contacted by Darlene Hunt, CEO and president of Extraordinary Casting in Chicago She wanted me to play a featured extra role in "Ride Along." It would later be renamed "The Chicago Code" the following day.

My head was still spinning the next day as I sat a few feet from Jennifer Beals and Jason Clarke on my first day in show business. I thought about my dad and was bitten by the acting bug BAD! I loved everything about it. I wear my Dad's cross and carry a memento from him on every movie or TV project I do. I figure we are going to Hollywood together. I was not nervous about working with celebrities. My father's death showed me that mortality is for everybody. Some jobs are just more glamorous than others. That takes us back to now.

Since that day I have appeared as an extra in 5 TV series and 2 films. I have had speaking roles in 5 films and have done 2 commercials and an industrial film. That's a busy 9 months. I have been blessed and driven. My comedy career has put me on stages around Chicago and at Statesville Prison as a part of Comics for Convicts Faith Outreach. Saturday I leave for Northern California for a week to do a project on a reality show. It is my first Hollywood gig on the west coast.

I miss the Big Bopper more each day. Not less. I owe so much to him. He never gave up on me but did lay some tough love on me at the right times. I do not mourn his death. I mourn for his life and wish we could talk about the Bears just one more time. I feel him sometimes. I see him every time I shave. I thank God for my sobriety and his timing for it. My dad gave me so many gifts and bailed me out of jam after jam. I will make it through today moment by moment. I will watch the Duke and I will listen to Danny Boy endlessly and give thanks over a tear or three for having known Bob Connolly. I am proud to be his son. Thanks God for your grace, mercy and my dad.

Take Me to the River....Dunk Me in the Water...Talking Heads/AlGreen

In the last nine months of my entire acting career, I have appeared in 5 television series and 7 films. There have been commercials for industry and the web, industrial films, and mostly extras work. I have pushed and clawed my way into a career that takes many actors years to achieve in a fraction of a year. I have been a man bent on making up for all the time I lost at the bottom of a bottle or trapped inside of my depression.

It is surreal looking back at my abbreviated career and the roster of people I have been in scenes with. The list includes: Kate Winslet, William H. Macy, Joan Cusack, Larry Fishburne, Bryan Cranstan, Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Jason Patrick and scores of Chicago's finest actors. From the directors list I have been fortunate to work under Steven Soderbergh, Mario Von Peebles, Charles McDougall and Michael Dinner.

Of the seven films I have done 4 of them were with speaking roles. I have been told "I am a natural." I am flattered by the compliment and grateful to God for giving me a gift that I truly love to use. I attribute my ability to my life on the street. When I was an active alcoholic and addict I had to be the ultimate actor. I was a chameleon switching from role to role as the audiences changed. Addiction is a 24 hour job. I had to hide hangovers, downplay highs that were too intense and manipulate the marks that were in my path to achieve the score. That is what adds to my abilities "in character." Becoming someone else comes quite naturally to me because I was so many different people for nearly twenty eight years. Not having to be me was my intended purpose.

Today I am okay being me. I love acting and no longer seek chemical vacations from myself. Some days are better than others. Being a person with depression issues I have to keep things in perspective and not let emotion get the best or worst of me. Yesterday was a day that I felt down emotionally but was given a grace filled day that put all of my life into perspective.

When Squeaky and I were baptized in August of 2009 I was overwhelmed with the experience. The church asked us to share our testimony on a video to be shared at a later date during services. I spoke of my addictions and Squeaky spoke of the miracles in her life. Parkview Christian Church, our church, has a day set aside yearly for congregational baptism. They also do them weekly or as people request. The day they played our testimony was on the mass baptism day and over 730 people rededicated their lives to Christ. I cried like a baby. I know our video didn't inspire them to take the plunge but we were humbled to be part of such a special day.

Since then we have been part of the baptism team. We help people behind the scenes prepare for their baptisms that occur at the end of worship. We have assisted about 20 people so far. It is our way to give service to the church and thanks to God for giving me and us a second chance. I will always make it a part of my life, no matter what path it takes.

Yesterday we were called to help a family who were getting two members baptized into Christ. One was an 81 year old man, the patriarch of the family who suffered from Parkinson's disease. The other was his granddaughter, a girl of about 18 who has cerebral palsy. We performed our usual tasks, showing them where to change and reviewing how the rites of baptism would be performed. They were excited and tears of joy and hugs flowed freely amongst us all. A frantic member of the family said she had no one to take photos. In a Clark Kent moment I told her not to worry. Grabbing her camera I rushed down the stairs back into the sanctuary and found a friend to capture the special moment forever.

The joyous moment came and grandpa and granddaughter stepped into the warm waters of the swirling baptismal pool. They were followed by their baptizer who was the father of the girl and son of the man. They recited their Confession of Faith. The old man could be heard to say that his feet were tingling. I laughed and then began to weep. It was a moment of crystal clarity. This was the important work in my life. These were the real people whom I served.

The girl giggled and thrashed as she was submerged in the warm waters cleansing herself and beginning life anew. As they came up out of the water and back up the stairs Squeaky and I hugged them. We were part of the family. The first few moments after someone has rededicated their lives to God and Christ are magical. Their eyes sparkle. The anxiety and worries of moments before seem to have been washed away. They are new creatures.

Kate was down to earth. William just a regular guy. Jennifer was gracious. Bryan was a riot. Jason Clarke does a South Side accent better than most Southsiders. Joan was bubbly. All of them wouldn't recognize me if they ran into me today. The grandpa and young lady whom we shared the experience of rebirth with will never forget us. That day is burned into their memories. The movies are fun and I am grateful for the opportunities. The people I serve for the glory of God are the stars that really shine in my heart and the ones that really matter.

Forgiveness is Easy! I Just Can't Forgive Myself! (STILL)

As part of my recovery as an alcoholic and addict, I've had to take a hard, honest look at the repercussions of my years of chemical abuse and take responsibility for the damage I have caused in my life and to those around me. Then, make reparations to those wronged.This honest review of where we hurt others is vital to recovery and is a bitter pill to swallow. No pun intended. The total domination of mind, body and soul that is demanded by addiction is centered in the self. Addiction survives through its ability to manipulate the self into serving only the needs of master addiction.

Addiction makes the user "self-ish." Although in the traditional definition we think of it as not sharing it is not the selfish I am referring to. Alcoholism and addiction creates a cycle where the abuser is in the middle of a high or drunk, planning the next high or recovering from the last one. Some of the "self" terms associated with addiction are self-centeredness, self-denial, self-justification, self-seeking, self-loathing and ultimately self destruction.

It doesn't mean we don't love or think of others. It means that our addiction is an unrelenting tyrant that only allows us to think of others if it fits into our cycle of using. Feeding the addiction comes first. Period. After that we can be a part of a family, friendship or any relationship. But as a normal person sits at a birthday party adoring the children at play, the addict is obsessing about the high they are on or the one they are looking forward to. Addiction creates a parallel universe of thought that runs along the side of reality.

In order to meet the demands our selfish tormenting master places on us, we lie, steal, manipulate, lash out, blame and create chaos for those around us. What appears to be, and what  is completely irrational behavior to a healthy minded person is normalcy to an addict. Addiction has its own set of moral code and behaviors to allow the addict to continue doing what they know in their soul is wrong. It is when we reach the end of the rope, and are willing to admit to defeat and surrender, that the healing begins.

If you are an addict, or newly in recovery the repairing of our past is not to be done alone. There are a few foundational principles to stabilize the base of our recovery before we set about making sense of the past. We have spent years avoiding responsibility and reality. Once sober, reality rushes in like water in a sinking boat and we are bombarded with emotions and feelings that we don't know how to process straight. These are not "I'm sorries" or "I promises." We have said those things hundreds of times. We have promised our love ones "never again" and come home ripped. When we make those cock sure pledges at breakfast we mean it. Then the obsession and slow drone of reasons to use for the day begin to chip away at us. We may give in on number 5 or 75. We get wasted then are  genuinely perplexed at how we broke the promise we made over coffee and donuts just hours before.
I have made most of my reparations to those I have hurt through my behaviors while trapped in addiction. Some have forgiven me, some have dismissed me and others have told me to stick it where the sun don't shine. All three are acceptable. The important thing is taking responsibility for my actions and experiencing the emotions of the confessional cleansing of our wounds and of the wounded. Some may become more responsive when they see we are sober, others may never forgive us because the damage was too deep. Some we will make reperations to for the rest of our sober lives. Some we avoid because it would be wrong to disrupt their lives with such damage. In those cases we try to make good in another area by proxy.

It is always important to remember that as addicts we want the world to judge us by our intentions. That is one of the delusions of addiction. The world judges us by our actions! In recovery our actions become positive and as we begin living right, those around us take note. In essence as we grow healthier, our loved ones grow healthier too. This is not in all cases. Some damage is beyond repair. The important thing is that we face that person and take ownership in our role in the relationship.

For the most part my experiences in making reparations has been pretty satisfying. For every person I have faced and confessed my wrongs to, some of the burden of the past is lifted from me and them. It is vital to remember that these repairs are not to be made if they cause further pain or injury to the person involved. It is not fair to heap new wounds upon those we have wronged in the past to achieve our own peace of mind. The one person whom I have had the hardest time making peace with is me.

Some of the other "self" emotions we experience are self-hate, self-criticism, self-loathing, low self-esteem and self-punishment. These are some of the emotions that fueled our addiction when using. I used for 28 years because I hated myself. I didn't know who I was and addiction made me unable to form and nurture healthy relationships. Once the anesthetic had been removed I was left with all of those feelings. Recovery is about lightening the burden of being who we were and are.

The ultimate goal is to make peace with the world and ourselves. When this peace starts to fill up our hearts, the urge to escape and use begins to disappear. The ultimate goal is to learn to love ourselves. It is hard to truly love another when we dislike ourselves so much. This is a problem I often struggle with. I have asked forgiveness from others and forgiven those who have harmed me. That is with the exception of one person. That person is me.

That is where recovery groups are vital to contented sobriety. On the outside I appear very confident, some would say cocky. I don't disagree with either assessment. I use a strong personality on the outside to mask the fear and inferiority complex that is the real me. I act like I'm together while inside I often feel like I am falling apart. Recovery groups give me hope and they love and care about me unconditionally. That is the beauty of recovery. We love each other until we love ourselves.

I don't wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and say to my self, "Tom, I love you!" I hope to get to that point someday. I am however, comfortable in my own skin now. The 28 years of negative thinking I endured is going to take some time to eliminate. I can say with a grateful heart that recovery has brought me to a place where I am comfortable hanging with me. By helping others in recovery I know I am doing something good and that makes me feel good. Although I don't gaze in the mirror and smile at the cool cat looking back at me, at least I can look in the mirror and see a changing man.

There was a time when I would look in the mirror one time a day. That was usually to see how horrible I looked from the previous night's drunk or high. I used to avoid eye contact with people or look at the ground while I was in a crowd. All of that is gone now. I can look in a mirror and see that I'm growing. I am learning to like myself. Love may or may not come. I can walk down the street with my head held high and look any man straight in the eye. Recovery is a marathon, not a sprint. It takes time to fix a completely shattered soul.

As long as I stay connected to recovery, recovery groups and keep my faith in God's strength and guidance, I will continue to grow. If I go back to listening to my own crazy thinking I will end up right back where I started which is miserable, drunk and hopeless. I have a choice not to get high or drunk today. That is by the grace of God and recovery groups. It wasn't very long ago that I had no choice as to whether I would use or not. I was a slave. Today I have a choice but for the grace of God! He has forgiven me. I know it's only a matter of time before I forgive me too in God's time...

I'm A Christian...Not Jesus!

Oh no! Here it comes! I knew it was too good to be true. The idea that this guy was gonna "keep it real" is gone! It was just a set up! I read the title. Here comes the pitch. Now he's gonna lay the guilt on me. He's gonna try to sell me Jesus like a snake oil salesman. By the time he's through he will probably have me dancing with poison snakes and wanting to slap me in the forehead while shouting, "DEMONS RELEASE THIS HEATHEN and BE Gone!"

Next thing will be the P.O. Box! Oh yeah, he's gonna want donations to "help save the souls of the world!" For a gift of only $100 dollars he's going to mail me an authentic nail from the cross of the Crucifixion with my long deceased grandma's name engraved in it. Next will come his "holier than thou" speech and the promise that "if I believe all my problems will go away, and that if I pray for a million dollars, the check will show up in the mail the next day!" The most HYPOCRITICAL thing is that this guy has been an addict, thief and liar who lived with hookers, spent 11 days in a padded room and was married four times! Now he is gonna talk about faith! "People like 'him' are the reason that keep me from church and worship in the first place. It is a den of hypocrisy and double talk!"

I am proud to say that I am a Christian. I was "reborn" on August 2, 2009. I believe that Jesus is the son of God and that he came here and died to grace us with eternity and forgiveness for all the evil and sin we commit as men and human beings imperfect. I attend worship at Parkview Christian Church in Orland Park. We don't dance with snakes and no one gets smacked upside the head during worship.

I smoke and swear occasionally. I get angry and envious. Sometimes I act like a complete idiot. I am an actor in a business fraught with sin and do comedy that sometimes goes a bit "blue." I yell at my kids, I get impatient when it takes too long for my dinner to be served. I dream of having fast cars and big houses and making it big! I sin! I sin! I sin! I do all of this because I am not Jesus. I am not perfect nor strive for that impossible goal. I don't judge others on their beliefs. I do not think I can earn my way into heaven or that I will stand in the line to paradise 100 spaces in front of you. I believe we will all stand before our maker to account for our time here. I fail and sin because I am a human! Christians are believers in Christ as a savior. We do not live on high looking down at the silly fools below. We are regular folk. I would like to start with my definition of what being "reborn" is. It used to make me envision angry, uppity people screaming "Heathen, you will burn in HELL!" Nothing could be farther from the truth.

When we were born most of us were baptized in a ritual our parents arranged or as part of a tradition. I had no choice in the decision when I was a wee baby. I had committed no sin. I was helpless, oblivious and unable to comprehend good and evil. Being "reborn" is being baptized again "by free choice." When I was 3 months old I didn't have a vote in the matter. A relationship with God through Christ is a choice each of us has. It is the beauty of his grace. It is there for the taking. We can take it or leave it. If there was no choice he wouldn't be a God of love and grace. He would be a dictator. Rebirth is a ritual cleansing of the old spirit and a commitment to a life of trying to be more "Christlike" and accepting Jesus as the way to get to paradise.

When I professed my confession of faith and was baptized by the water of rebirth, I came out a different man. I knew I had to make things right with many here on earth but by accepting Jesus I was forgiven of all my human defects and sins. It felt invigorating to come up out of the water as a new me. Years of pain and baggage was lifted from my shoulders and heart. I will never forget it. I know I am moving on in eternity so death no longer terrifies me like it once did.

I am also an "Evangelical." That conjures up more stereotypical visions of angry people screaming about peace and forgiveness. That is enough to confuse anyone. To be Evangelical means that I share my experience with people about my life with Christ when the moment is right. I live my life as an attraction to Christ living, not as a promotional pitch for getting saved. I do not walk the aisles of the El train passing out literature and flicking holy water on the passengers. I just relate the peace and love I feel by living my life as close to the way Jesus would want me to. I fail and I sin and that's where the skeptics jump like wolves on a wounded rabbit. "The sun shines and the rain falls upon both the good and evil."

I know that the thought of a man coming down from God to live with us and save us from ourselves through his death can be a tough story to embrace. But is it really? Everyday we see man discover new technology and distant galaxies. Some of us have had near death experiences or encounters with angels or loved ones past. If we have a bad Italian dinner we don't stop eating pasta, but if we have had a bad religious experience we usually chuck the whole concept as silly. That is completely ridiculous! The problem is that people want God to be Santa Claus or a yes man, not as a light or guide in their life.

I know I would not be tapping out these words if it wasn't for the grace of God. Many people who have gone through what I have are dead, incarcerated or insane. I am free of the bondage of alcohol and addiction! That is a miracle. I have finally realized the thing that I was chasing and the hole I was trying to fill with chemicals was a meaningful relationship with my creator! I talk to him all the time and he helps direct me into making good decisions, not just the ones that are best for me. The hole has been filled. The fear is gone and the comfort in knowing that I am never alone makes living life to the fullest even better! The Bible does not end with "they all lived happily ever after." It does promise that we can make it through any of life's difficulties through our faith. I truly believe Every Day Is A Gift!