I took my first drink at age 6 and never stopped until age 36. Every member of my immediate family was alcoholic. Baptized Roman Catholic and groomed for the Priesthood, a dream of my Father, attending private school is a must.
We were dirt poor living in a shack on the bank of Lake Erie. Mother worked as a maid and Dad a laborer, spending money for gallons of port wine and cases of beer left little for essentials. Shabbily dressed, devoid of social skills and physically small I am in a school with the children of Doctors and Lawyers; wealth surrounding this little drunk. Constant ridicule and rejection is the norm. Emotional pain is treated with port wine which disallows development.
God found this twisted, sick little lamb in 1978 and the process of becoming sober begins. Emotional hardness, also know as maturity, took years to develop. In 2004 I became a Southern Baptist and was saved by Jesus. The Holy Spirit endowed strength and tenacity on that remarkable day of Baptism.
I never gave up although hardships continue; God gifting this ex-drunk the strength of acceptance via surrender, to walk the path given. One must first surrender to HIS will to win. Which begs the question; if I do what is won?
The strength to decide not to give up when times are rough is the prize. A mystery wrapped in an enigma; understood through faith in Christ Jesus.
Emotional pain spins on weaver’s wheel creating yarn years long; another spins on a separate wheel. The weft of pain alternating stitches with welt of acceptance are woven into a cloak; the prize. Dew on Web is an expression of this passage.
Dew on Web
Sweet dew drop on spider’s web slinks so slowly
Sliding on slippery satin’s path to multiple junctions
Then divides just glides on its way to tiny splash, at last
It takes so long, we think
Our timelines stretched
Such arrogance that we profess
To think mere man controls its quest
Light sees the drop of Heavens wealth
Reflects, refracts a rainbows worth
All man’s jewels possessed by few
Can not compare to simple dew
The wisdom whistles in the wind
Never going, always been
You have to listen with your heart
The little spider was the start
It kills to eat entangled meat
We can not win without defeat
There is no beauty to be possessed
Unless first pain and then the rest
Sorrow precedes the deity’s feat
Dew drop dew drop oh so sweet
D. Edwin Burbee