Dear God,

Remember when you asked Adam about eating from the tree? And he said, “The woman YOU put here with me, she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”?

Sounds like me don’t it?  I know me being a failure wasn’t your fault at all. I just don’t understand. Anything. “You’re supposed  to know my heart. And know all the hairs on my head.  So I highly doubt you missed the tears. Even if I don’t know how to pray right there is no way you couldn’t have heard one.

Supposedly you’re touched by our feelings. How could mine have touched you and you leave me lost and alone. Alone except for the enemy. Alone except for all the people I’ve hurt.

I became what I  hated and fought. Please Jesus be touched. Please. It wasn’t the woman you gave me. It was the calling. I thought it was from you. Please help.

My own beard and hair are streaked with gray. I don’t recognize myself much in the mirror. Good. I’m dreading the point at which I have to shave. I came in weighing 320 lbs.  Went to medical for vitals to be read. Getting paperwork straight. Current weight is now 260. I don’t believe it. Blood pressure low. Pulse 128 bpm. Have horrible dizzy spells so bad I almost fall out of bed when I roll over. I think in addition to destroying my short term memory my little spell of drug abuse might have messed up something a little more serious. 260. I always thought my skeleton must weigh at least 180.

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All things work together. I’m praying for you. Trust in the Lord. I can do all things through Christ. Read the Bible it will strengthen you.

I think people stop using cliches after someone uses one on them during a crisis. I have a beautiful Brand New BIBLE. Took a lot of trouble getting it to me. When I’m at my lowest I take it out for a little help. I look at it like its an instruction manual for a Russian nuclear sub. Written in Russian.

I guess I’ve lost my mind more than I realized. I don’t even know how to use the Bible anymore. Try letting it fall open to a scripture. Did that. The building specs on the badger skin coated tabernacle didn’t really lift my spirits. Nor did UFO’s seen by a naked profit.

I’m reading through even the New Testament and words are blurring together and my mind is loose and ungrasping. I don’t know anything.

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Don is an idiot. As much as I lover Raymond I hate Don. Even his name is stupid.

Don doesn’t mess with me. I hardly ever talk to him. You ever meet someone who  makes you wanna punch  him just  by the way he looks?  It was probably Don. He’s real scraggly looking like a bit fat stupid looking muslim. He actually, and I’m not making this up, wraps a sheet around his head like a Muslim headpiece.

When the guard gets on the intercom (its against regulations to put anything over your face or on your head) or say something about it at the door, this moron  tells them  its his religious clothing and if they don’t bring him a prayer rug and tell him where East is that he’s going to sue the jail. And they laugh and walk away.

One day he wanted them to refund $8 for a haircut he didn’t get. He ACTUALLY told them that he was going to blow up our pod if they didn’t give him his money. Someone from our pod was getting a haircut up front and told us that they heard over the radio that a Muslim was going to blow up our pod and all the guards left.

Don had told them he was a suicide bomber with 12 pounds of dynamite. They thought he was hilarious. The guards. I think he’s an idiot. He’s always saying goofy stuff like “Oh boy” and everyone starts it all the time. Hardened criminals.

The other night he told Lee that once he’d caught an albino catfish. Named it Wayne and put it in a bucket of water. Little by little he drained the water until one day there was none left. He had trained the catfish to breathe air. He just kept it damp so it wouldn’t dry out. Said that  he took that catfish everywhere. Trained it to flop beside him around the house.

One day he went fishing and took Wayne with him. Just set him right on the dock beside him. Well one of the bait crickets jumped out of the little cardboard box into the pond. Wayne, being hungry and loving crickets, jumped in after it, And drowned.  Yeah they all think he’s soooo funny. Well I don’t. I think he’s sad.

IMW

6699

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Song 7 – Written by Branden E. Carter Jr.

This is to some one who liven on the road of groly. Now I know your teiling your stroy how you made it over. Befor you went away. You where a freind to me. You will always be within by heart each night an day. But now I just got to whate. An stay on my knee’s an pray that tomorrow will be a batter day.

Now I can know how much life mines to me. The time that we have is not lone but your love will live on after your gone. I pray that some day some one will think that way about me someday.

God has you in His arms knowing that on one can do any harm. So that you can sang your song in the home that God has made for you in the land of groly. So one day we can teil our stray togrether How we over come. The stromes an the rain of the panful ways of life.

Their where some good days alone the way. But now where hair to stay on the road of groly. We will teil our Stroy on this day of groly. Now we live on the road of groly.

By: Branden E. Carter Jr.

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My former pastor (and I use that term in the most liberal sense)told me that I had a problem with authority. His brilliant protege (younger than me) promptly agreed. I thirded the motion. I did and do.

Enduring schools I dealt with a teacher who stood me up in front of the class and showed them my misspelling of my middle name. They laughed. I didn’t. She stood me up and showed them  the book I was reading and they laughed about “Pipi – Longstocking”. They laughed. I cried.  They laughed more. I was eight.

Another had a wonderful program called “Fun Fridays”. If you didn’t get “three check marks” by your name in one day then the week on Friday you got to watch a movie and eat popcorn and drink red Kool-Aid. With my bad attitude (many people called it A.D.D., she called it ‘bad attitude’.) I hardly made it to ‘Fun Friday’. One week I was able to pull it off. With her own words “you need to be made an example of” she gave me three check marks that Friday morning.

Not content to sit me  in the back where the bad attitudes were usually set, she brought me to the front of the room. Next to the T.V. Facing my classmates. They laughed. I turned red. I was nine.

One screamed at me for twisting my hand in the light coming from the window. I had done my work already but she was upset about something. She told the class that I might be retarted and should be in Special-Ed. I cried. They laughed. I was ten.

And on and on and on.  I was taught to trust  and obey those with authority. They abused it. Church wasn’t much better. Sunday school teachers pinching the backs of my arms or twisting my ear in front of all the other kids. Angry sometimes at a parent or family member they came after the ones who couldn’t defend themselves. Wasn’t just me.

I seen chuch ushers slam kids to the ground and put them in headlocks. Young teenagers I was thirteen when they left me and a kid from the bus-ministry to paddle  8 hours by ourselves. “Sink or swim” laughing.  Our canoe was capsized under a tree branch and the kid ws stuck underneath.  A nearby power boat came to our rescue and saved him. Oh boy how they laughed and laughed when the boaters brought us to the church van. Being laughed at hurts worse than being punished in the face over and over. Those bruises heal, but I can still hear the laughter.

Cops who lie, lawyers who cheat, pastors who “only keep you around for your money”. Yeah, I guess I do have a problem with authority. And my bad attitude.  IMW

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Wife

I miss talking to her. I miss everything. I’m sorry. I wish I was better. IMW

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I was always Sure of Prison

Everyone thought I was crazy for being so sure that I was going to prison. I’ve known since I was a child that I would spend time here.  Was it because of all the teachers who kept telling me I was rotten and would wind up there?  Or was it somthing I just knew? Maybe.  I was certain beyond anything months ago. I had everything. And for two years I kept praying, “God please take everything from me. Take it all and let’s see if I’m still going to love you. Make sure I’m serving you for the right reasons?” Every single day I would pray that. Lost my home, my career, my reputation, all my belongings, people who claimed they were my friends. And my wife. I didn’t count her because she was part of me. Don’t pray stupid prayers. Even the disciples had to ask Jesus how to pray.

Then like the idiot I am I kept praying that same prayer. So I lost my health. And short term memory. And basic motor skills. My hands shake. Badly. Then like the idiot I am I kept praying that same stupid prayer. God you forgot my freedom. Hey Mrs. Jones! Ya forget our test today? But I know the sweet Lord very well. So I knew he would take that too. And he did. God answers prayer. Every single prayer. It just might not be the answer you want to hear. And I think I asked for too much. Because it hurts. Dear God it hurts. Losing the other half hurts worse than anything. But I haven’t left God yet. But it hurts terribly. Beyond anything I could imagine. Maybe forever. Probably forever.

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Birthday Presents

I remember some really great birthday presents and parties I’ve had growing up. G.I.Joe tanks, guns, money, cake at the pizza place, balloons at the zoo. Cards with money. I was the center of attention. I’ve given some pretty extravagant presnts to people for their birthdays. I’ve even put some nice parties together. Thinking about a friend of mine. He’s had AWFUL luck with every one of his birthdays since I’ve known him.

He gets plenty of parties sure. Every year. Millions of people show up. Billions of dollars are spent on presents, decorations, and food. The party lasts for several weeks. Sadly though none of the presents are for him. No one talks to him when he shows up. If he’s mentioned it’s just in passing. Every person on Earth gets presents at their birthday party. He gets nothing. Sorry Jesus.  I miss wife.

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Stuck

Stuck in a single man cell in the medical unit. Christmas day. Christmas meals were crackers and blue jello for breakfast. Crackers for lunch and dinner. I sang Happy Birthday to Jesus but I still haven’t heard from Him. I’m sure He’s still angry with me.

I don’t know how to keep serving Him. He hasn’t given me the strength or peace to. My prayers  drop like lead as they leave my mouth and are probably swept up with the candy wrappers and dirty Q-tips. Dear Lord if you’re still out there, I’m sorry. Please come back. I need you.  I miss wife and Jesus. Or Jesus and wife.

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When you can’t Pray…

What do you do when you can’t pray to do the right thing anymore?  When you’re convinced  that God is intentionally ignoring your prayers? Because I failed  Him. And the oldest  institution established. Because I lied to Him. I told Him I wanted Him to take everything. He used my own failing to do it but He did it. When you don’t trust Him or in Him. When the only dreams you had were destroyed. And used to beat you mostly dead? When the only thing you feel is pain and the only emotions you have is hate? When it feels like you’re already in hell. No contact with God and every moment and eternity of pain. What do you do then? When you have no hope, no promise from God, no assurance, no faith.

Nothing to hold on to and no strength to do it any way? No way to end it all yet. What do I do. I don’t know. What do you do when there is blood on your hands that you can’t get off? When everyone tries to destroy you and their lies become truth. I don’t know. Even if I knew it couldn’t help God hates me. He hated Esau and I’m far far worse.  I miss wife.

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