Confession booth part #3

Yes, the booths, the genuflecting, the holy water and my games were all sustained gone.

Unfortunately, the 7 years (after-Cath and before heart-change,) allowed the monster of “me” to form and grow.

This freak of nature, hair as long as any girl, donned size eleven platforms below the “bells” and became a herb smoking, “peace bro-ing,” concert grouping, “what’s-your-bag, man,” kind of guy.

In fact, I considered nothing I was doing as sin, and really had no need for a priest.

These were the sincere, tomorrow we die, “if it feels good — do it,” days.

We were not pretending anything, just seriously partying and making a life of that.

The phoniness of our prior trying-hard at life convinced us — life
had no meaning, or if it did, it was too demanding or really kind of boring.

So when God rescued me, then it all made sense. My new life was so unique and brand new that I had no inclination to return to anything of my past, whether the devout self-flogging, or the wild hob-slobbering.

I took my hands out of my pockets and looked up and began to hold my head up, and I had something to tell about.

This I did in barrooms and pool-halls, every place I frequented got the new word. Some listened and most laughed but it did not sway me.

One who heard was Ray. I tried my best to tell him of my new found life. He loved the story and received too. Ray was a high-school chum and fellow freak. (Freak was a common name for a casual drug-user).

Ray could play the guitar like nobodies’ business and smoked Marlboro’ s. These he lit and placed at the top of the neck of his Gretch under the low E string, first fret, while he played.

Ray was an innovator and first of our group to wear the long navy
p-coat. We all followed and purchased ours at the army-navy store for about 10
dollars. They weighed a ton. Ray parted his hair in the middle and we tagged
along, and of course, he was the first among our weird gang to have a car.

One day, four of us veered off the road at an unexpected bend,

plowed through a guard rail and then sawed off a telephone pole, finally
settling into a deep ravine. Ray put the car in “park” (why?) and we all got out
miraculously unharmed. Wires from the pole were spread across the road and as
we looked up from the ditch a whole crowd had formed.

Chris was in that wreck. He later received my gift of rescue also. Jack, we lost track of through the years. So three out of four of us
received the gift of Christ and God may have used the wreck to prepare our hearts.

I wondered at why I had been spared many times in all kinds of odd events. I started my own confessional booth inside of me and often
talked to God about my unworthiness. His forgiveness is enormous to me now. To know He is still forgiving me makes me want to be with Him more.