Superbowl LI (51 because for some reason we Americans use Roman numerals for a bastardized version of rugby that we stole from our Imperilist Brittish past)…Anyway, Superbowl LI was February 5th in 2017. Pats won. Lady Gaga killed it at halftime. At the time it almost seemed insignificant…I didnt care for either team…I rooted for the Falcons just to try and keep Jake at bay. That didn’t work out. Jake and I picked Jason up from the train station, we had a few laughs on our way to watch the Big Game.
I can’t tell you what we laughed about. I can’t tell you most of the details. I can tell you that I never expected that to be the last time Jason would be in my car. I did not know that Superbowl 51; a game of 2 teams I couldn’t care less about would be burned into my mind as the last time I saw my brother Jason alive.
Now that you’re sufficiently bummed out, I promise this isn’t a melodramatic “poor me” diatribe…I try to avoid those…I’ve been asked how I can possibly still have my faith after all I’ve experienced.
I have dealt with a sexual assault victim, who is 18 months old.
I eulogized my nephew, who never saw six years of life.
I lost my brother to heroin after a polarizing relationship filled with heartache, anger and discord.
But, my faith not only remains in spite of these “losses”…it grows.
How?
Well…it just makes sense really.
You see, there are like 8 billion people on earth, and it is widely accepted that humans have walked this earth for approximately 200,000 years…so yeah, how can I not have faith?
Sure, I’ve “lost” people I love, but how could I not have faith? Look at the odds, what are the odds that I would have had these people in my life in first place? You see, my mother had complications having children, and I got two brothers, one who didnt plan on staying long, so he came a little early….and one who eats weird things and gets punched for fun.
I am married to a woman I have absolutely no business being with…seriously, my Queen Esther lives up to her name with a wisdom and faith that has changed my life.
I have an Aurora and a Ziggy who have given me a purpose beyond what I can imagine.
I am blessed with a beautiful niece with the most Souther Belle name ever who has the most Northern thinking Southerner parents ever.
I have the most amazing Godchildren I could ever dream of.
I have parents, family and friends that give me more support than whatever witchcraft is keeping the Leaning Tower of Pisa up.
I’ve “lost” loved ones, but…out of 8 billion people alive right now and over the span of 200,000 years of human life, I was called “Uncle Joe”… out of 8 billion people alive right now over the span of 200,000 years of human life my younger brother (little brother would be a lie) Jason loved and annoyed me for over 27 of them. I see miracles in that.
Yeah, Superbowl 51 was the last time I saw Jason alive…but… playing the odds, the fact that I had over 20 Superbowls with him is miraculous in the grand scheme of things.
I’m not known for being overly positive or optimistic. People tend not to come to me for help finding their silver lining. I’m pragmatic…to a fault, this is just ratios and common sense…I have my faith because to me, it’s just obvious that I’m blessed, what others see as loss and hardship in my life are just times that I cashed in, and that’s a win.
I share this (very long blog…sorry) because it is fresh, in prayer I was told, in no uncertain terms that I’ve lost nothing and that I must remind others that neither have they… what others see as a loss I count as a blessing, and it resonates right now since…well… you just read it…prayer plus timing… that’s kinda HIS thing…people need to know that “loss” only counts if you don’t keep playing…and if you live in faith, you never stop playing…and, considering I am no preacher, this will have to do as my attempt to share.
Anyway, go Taylor Swift…or whoever is playing.
