“Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.”  ~ Paul Boese

Forgiveness is a big word for a small boy and a word that at a young age I had no idea would be so crucial in getting me through life.  As I look back on what my childhood was I think of all that I could hate, all the people I could despise and all the darkness I could hold inside.

My life started on November 14th, 1980 and while I don’t remember a thing from this day, there were events months before this day that would shape my life for ever. Moments that I had no choice in, moments that I could not control and events that will forever leave me scarred and torn. My father and biological mother were young and lived life free from concerns or thoughts.  I was a byproduct of this recklessness, not just in the sense of creation, but also in the after effects there in.

My father was rough and my biological mother was lost. This combination did not bode well for a small fetus that lay helpless to the choices of it’s creators.  Drugs, alcohol and things unmentioned filled the protective shell I laid helplessly in.  I was being filled with toxins and poisons that would coat my life for years to come.  Both parties had little respect for what was given to them to protect and shield.  I lay pray to the outside world and to the demons flooding my cocoon of life.

I was born early that November morning, gasping for air and screaming to the world that I was here. I was here with courage, with love and with a challenged that was unfairly given to me and would not be fully understood until much later in my life.  I was weighed, measured and poked, then handed to my mother and so my journey had begun.  The arms that held me that day would soon toss me to the side as a failed experiment leaving me to overcome the choices made by those unprepared and unknowing.

I sat on my grandmother’s kitchen floor as she cooked my favorite morning masterpiece, pancakes!  Not just your normal pancakes, these were homemade, pan sized, pancakes!  Fluffy masterpieces that I knew could not be eaten, yet had to be savored and enjoyed one bite at a time. Of course my bites were the size of my small fists and savoring for me was defined as, “how many could I eat before school”.  This was a dream come true.  I had my normal life, a “mother” cooking and filling the home with the aromas of bacon, syrup and my big yellow school bus was just around the corner waiting for me.  Life, from what you could see, was normal and more importantly it seemed, good.

Seemingly I had all I ever wanted, but life was far from giving me what I wanted and was more ready to remind me of what I had already been given.  Remind me in a way that would haunt me for nearly 10 years after this day. My demon pills were gone, but my demons were not. My grandmother had chosen wisely to ignore the advise of doctors and the state and let my young body cleanse it’s self of the demon “candies” and begin the long journey of forgiving my past.

My young frame enjoyed the release from it’s pills and tests, from the side effects and over-bearing sickness and the control that laid siege to each muscle of my body. Yes my body enjoyed this freedom, but my mind on the other hand was unprepared for this freedom and would begin to relish in what would become reckless behavior and emotions.  I would begin to see, feel and experience the consequences from choices, not made by me, for years to come. My grandmother would fight these battles with me and though we ultimately won, many battles were lost along the way and my life would be haunted with these memories of war.

The air was crisp and cool.  My stomach was stuffed with fluffy, syrupy goodness and I was packed and ready for my trip to school.  I was going to school!  My real school with hall ways, lockers, teacher’s voices and the smell of dirty socks.  I was going to ride my big yellow school bus that so faithfully got me to school each and every morning.  Yet on this morning I had a different plan.  I had a plan to do what I had done every morning for the past few weeks, skip the bus ride, hook up with my new found friend and destroy some property!  Yep, property destruction was a talent for me. I wasn’t good at it, I was great at it!  Destruction was fun, it was a release, something that I just could not get enough of and I loved it.

I was in complete control when I had the power to destroy.  No one could hold me back, no one could tell me where to be, what to do and how to do it.  The thrill was there and nothing could compare to the rush I felt when I was at the helm of destruction.  I had not had control of my life and now finally I did, or so I truly thought.

It was a simple act of vandalism. Each morning we would walk down the street and look for pop up sprinkler heads to break off.  The one that broke the most off was the champion and had bragging rights for the day.  One home in particular was my favorite.  They had nine inch sprinklers that stayed raised wether the water was rushing through them or not.  Made for an easy target and you could quickly break off 2 or 3 before the home owner could even see what was happening. To make this home even more of a gold mind the owners would repair the sprinklers with in days so becoming the champion of destruction was a cake walk.  I was easily the champ 4 out of 5 days; that is how I remember it and so that is how it will be.  Being champion had many rights in my new found friendship, but one above all others would be most remembered.

My gold mind was soon to become a booby trap and my first run in with the wild wild west law man. Over sprinklers? Yes over sprinklers. Being good at destruction meant I cost someone a fair share of money. When money is involved it doesn’t matter the object it only matters the bank damage.

With my tummy full and my grandmother fully under the impression that I had hopped on my yellow school bus, I felt like this was going to be a record setting day.  I was going to break more sprinklers on this walk to school then on any other day, I could feel it.  One, two, three, four, five.  I was already on a roll and I had not even gotten to the field of gold just a few houses ahead.  I had an insurmountable lead and now it was just icing on the cake. There they were all lined up like little toy soldiers right next to the sidewalk, nine inch golden rods and my ticket to ultimate control and bragging rights.  Running faster and faster I swung my size 4 foot right between the eyes of the first sprinkler, down it went. “Six”, I yelled, the next and the next fell with even more force and then there it was my record, my perfect childhood moment of destruction.  I approached it with vigor and speed stopping only to whined up and hit this rod of gold with such force nothing could hold it up and then it happened.  The front door of home that laid nestled in my field of gold, swung open and a figure the size of the moon stood in the door laughing as I ran off.  All I could see was this enormous shape holding a small yellow box and laughing as I sped away bragging to my friend.  Not only had I broken the record, but I had done it while getting away clean.  I was the champion, the number one and had the bragging rights that would last me for weeks.

We reached the school, clean, uncaught and on time.  Class was normal, the ride home on the bus was normal, when I got home everything was normal.  Then something un-normal happened. A cold hard knock on the door.  That knock you come to realize as a child can only mean one thing, trouble.

There he stood filling the door way as my grandmother listened has he flipped through pages that he held firmly in his hand.  I could not see much of what he was wearing, but I saw all that matter, a silver shinny badge that only police officers were lucky enough to wear.  After a few moments in the doorway he was invited in and my stomach once full of fluffiness and goodness quickly filled with rocks and a side of sour guilt.  I could see the look in this enormous man’s eyes and I knew I was in deep.

“Son”, his voice hit me like an anvil falling from the sky, “do you know why I am here?” My reply should of been, “yes I do and I am sorry and it won’t happen again, thank you for stopping by and I hope you have a nice day sir.” Instead I looked him square in his eyes and replied with a solid, “Nope”.  Well that sealed my fate with him and my grandmother.  Remember the pages he was flipping through with my grandmother, well they were photos! The moon that had stood in the doorway earlier that morning wasn’t laughing because I had destroyed his sprinklers, he was laughing that his booby trap had worked.

Those sprinkler heads that stood all in a line, perfectly ready to be kicked down and broken, well they were placed there for one little trouble maker to be tempted beyond control and I fell for it. The little yellow box I saw the man holding was a camera and out his front window he had captured my whined up and kick to perfection.

I was hosed and now I had flat out lied to an officer of the law and more importantly my grandmother. Punishment was about to be handed down to me and all I could do is stand there in complete shock as I stared at my perfectly executed kick.  While I was lost in the photo of my actions, the law man was mumbling words to my grandmother and before I knew it she and I were in our car following the shinny police vehicle right in the direction of my sidekick of destruction. I was told to stay in the car as my mother and the officer headed to his front door.

We had been caught, it was over time to turn ourselves in and report to our cells.  My sidekick and I stood in his living room as his father and mother un-politely expressed their dismay at the two of us.  My grandmother and his parents met with the officer for what seemed like hours before I was placed back into her car and we headed home.  Once home my grandmother explained to me that we had to pay for the damages we caused to not only my field of golden sprinkler heads, but all the homes we damaged. Total damage, $ 3,500 big ones.  Where was I going to get that kind of money? All I had was quarters and NO one was taking those!

My sidekick in crime had to help pay back this debt as well.  It was agreed that due to the fact that I had become the champion and record setter, I would pay the bulk of the fee.  And so my grandmother took out her check book and handed over my freedom and then quickly imprisoned me in her glare.  It was going to be a long summer.

That summer I learned how to do something that has stayed with me throughout my life; when life hands you lemonades, start a lemonade stand and charge two quarters a cup!

I tell this story to bring out a lighter side of a darkness that I battled for years to come.  Some may say this was just a ‘child’ thing or kids do worse.  As this is true I want to ensure each of you that I did do worse and those stories will come.  But it is important to understand that now that I had abandon the demon candies, my mind was beginning to release all that it had suppressed through my years to this point.  All the horror and darkness was freeing it’s self and I was unable to control it.  The only thing that gave me control was destroying all that was around me, including those that loved me.

The actions and choices of my step father, biological mother and my dad, were manifesting themselves in my small frame. I was releasing the hate, the anger, fear and pain in the only way a child could, destruction.  I was finding out that what I was was not due to me it was due to those that had me.  Those I trusted to protect me and to give me all the gifts of life and love I needed to succeed.  That trust was broken and for the first time in my life I wasn’t numbed by the pills and doctors telling me that I was just a ‘broken’ child.

My journey in life truly began that summer.  The summer of lemonade.  I was beginning to embark on a path of light and darkness that would see many U-turns, left turns and in some ways a few dead ends.  Not only would my mind relive all that had happened to me as a small child, but I would also battle the side effects of the reckless choices I had no selection in making while I was laying helplessly in my mothers whom.

Through these battles I would learn that the secret to succeeding was ultimate forgiveness.  Forgiving those that could not forgive themselves and forgetting those that chose to forget me. It was my duty to myself to forgive inso that I could become someone and do something, even if life hadn’t given me all any child truly deserves.