The fallacy that God never speaks

The Road by Cormac McCarthy had such a profound effect on me; it is one of my favorite novels of all time.

No tiny feat considering that we were only on the unconscious cusp of wanting children when we listened to the audio book during our Southwest trip in May 2007.

It was one of those defining moments that filled our hearts with loving choice.

Over and over again the book's theme of parental love and protection against dismal nuclear devastation and end-of-the-world odds was punctuated by beautiful passages of prose.

Yep, I really liked it.

However, we knew it was going to be tough to watch the movie version of The Road.

And 15 minutes in, Mama said to stop. It was just too much now that we have children.

The scene was the father tenderly washing his son's head in a stream after a violent encounter with one of the bad folk roaming the desolate earth.

That was it. We turned it off.

But earlier than that there was a line I can and will never, ever forget:

The child is my warrant, and if he is not the Word of God, then God never spoke.

There are places in the world today just as post-apocalyptic as that of The Road, with fathers, mothers and children dying at the hands of their relentless enemies.

That of us. Sometimes for a dollar. Sometimes for sport. Sometimes for survival.

Sometimes we just come up short.

I don't subscribe to supercilious dogma and I'm not a praying man, but I don't believe in the fallacy that God never speaks.

My faith comes from the fallout of loving words that drift slowly to the floor and coalesce into pools of hope.

Amen. I will protect that faith with my life.

Be better people. Be better parents. Take the lead.

Daddy K takes the long road home

The road to fatherhood began abysmally for me – from abusive biological father, to abusive first step-father, to self-abusive anxiety-ridden depressive teenager (me), to self-abusive anxiety-ridden depressive young adult (again, yours truly), to self-abusive anxiety-ridden depressive angry resentful deceptive longed to be liked poor excuse for a contradictive man and husband (marriage #1), to brooding on the brink of finally mastering control of my life with a pre-Mama A saying stand up and get it together or get out.

Stand up and get it together. Get off the ground. Let go the legacy of anger and fear. Have hope. Have faith.

(No worries, I've always had a good heart, there were good times along the way, and I had good father I'll talk about in one of my next postings).

Which is why The Road by Cormac McCarthy had such a profound effect on me last year when we listened to the audio book during our Southwest trip (and I just found out it's going to be a move this year). It was one of those defining moments that filled our hearts with choice.

WARNING - For those of you who haven't read it and plan to, do not read on because I've got a spoiler coming.

The Road is a post-apocalyptic story of a father and young son trying to survive a horrific world gone mad while traveling on a road to the coast, a road of hope. Sadly when they reach the coast and can't find any civilized civilization to speak of, hope is all but lost. The father is very ill and dies, leaving the boy alone.

Then, out of the darkness, a man offers his help to the boy. The man tells the boy he needs to come with them, because they can help him. The boy is resistant; he doesn't want to leave his dead father and he's unsure of the man's motives.

"Are you one of the good guys?" The boy asks.

"Yes, I'm one of the good guys," the man answers.

The boy takes his hand and they walk off.

Stand up and get it together. Get off the ground. Let go the legacy of anger and fear. Have hope. Have faith.

Be one of the good guys.