There are different ways we measure time; historically time has been measured by the movement of the sun or moon, the repetition of seasons or tides and even such physiological parameters as the drawing of breath or pulse of an individual.  Historically the daylight hours were divided into twelve equal periods as was the night; the length of these hours could vary over the course of the year.  The introduction of the minute as the 60th part of an hour, the second as the 60th part of the minute did not occur until the Middle Ages, used by Al-Biruni around 1000 AD and by Roger Bacon in the 13th century.  As man’s knowledge and technology has expanded, so have our means of measuring this thing we call time to a degree never thought of by our predecessors. 

We look in a mirror and can measure the passage of time in the lines and loss of elasticity we see in our faces; the sometimes cruel nature of crime is seen there as our youth seems to vanish and friends or family are no longer with us.  Yet time can bring comfort as well; time reveals those who are true friends despite the vicissitudes that often assail us through the years, or the foibles we all too often find ourselves caught up in through poor choices.

Thirty-two years does not seem long when compared with the amount of time that man has walked the face of this place we call Earth.  For myself, it is over one-half of the time I have been alive and that seems to put more emphasis on the importance of this particular measure of time.  Thirty-two years measured in days spent together or apart; breaths drawn in wonder at the love we share or anger at the misunderstanding we all too often can fall into being the broken vessels we are as humans.  Measured in heart beats shared (and how she can often quicken mine when I see her even now) or tears shared; in all these ways and more I celebrate the passage of these thirty-two years since we said, “I do.”  Happy Anniversary my beloved Kathy.  

 

I’ve referred at times in this blog to both the book and movie, The Neverending Story; a marvelous tale of a young boy who stumbles upon a magical bookstore where the proprietor shows him a book, warning him that it is a dangerous book to read.  This young lad, victim of those in his school much larger than him, seems to find a refuge in this bookstore and the book where he meets someone his age named Atrayu and a luck dragon that befriends him.  It is a wonderful read and the movie superbly captures the essence of Thomas Ende’s book, but what does that have to do with my journey Home? 

As regular readers of this blog will know, I have struggled for over three years since my release from prison to find gainful employment.  The combination of a felony and my age has closed many a door for me and I can somewhat understand an employer’s hesitation to not only trust someone with a record, but to bring someone into a business when I am at an age when most are looking forward to retirement.  During one interview with an IT firm in the Morrisville area, I was asked when I planned to retire; my response of “…four minutes after my heart stops…” seemed to allay their fears regarding my age somewhat, but then questions turned to my felony and the interview quickly ended.

A good friend and Realtor asked me if I’d ever considered becoming a real estate agent; at that point I had not, but over time began to examine my options for this field when all else seemed closed to me.  I successfully completed the pre-licensing class at Go School and the folks at Go Realty were incredibly supportive to the point where I was taken in as a helper for the office administrator of the Go Durham office.  It seemed that things were going very well when I passed the state exam for licensure and applied for a license to become a real estate agent in North Carolina.  I knew going into the process that there would be a hearing to determine if I was to be licensed, but assumed that my demonstrated character since my release and the support of those at Go Realty and friends from the Chapel Hill Bible Church would carry the day. 

The hearing was essentially a reiteration of my trial from 1987; the counsel for the NC Real Estate Commission went over and over my crime, ignoring the testimony of those who were supporting me (especially those who knew the ‘old’ Tony and shared their belief that the person I was now was totally different than the man judged in 1987.  The Commission ruled against licensing me, however, and that dream ended as many others had.

Several weeks ago I began wondering if perhaps starting my own business in photography would be an option; it would both combine my own love of photography with my growing skill in this field with the possibility of adding to our family budget, even if only in small amounts initially.  I spoke with several friends about this (one of whom has done photography for an extended period of time) and decided to begin the process of launching Tony’s Take Photography.  It has been slow; I’ve continued donating my time and talents (including photography) to such organizations as the USO-NC, Our Children’s Place, and The Coalition of Prison Evangelists and have even had a paying gig for a local Realtor in shooting some listing photos for two of his properties.

At present I am planning on taking advantage of the Small Business courses offered at Durham Tech to help me put some skin on the bones of Tony’s Take Photography; as I shared with another volunteer at the USO-NC who is also in the middle of launching a small business, there is so much that I do not know or even know to ask and am hoping some of those answers can be found there.  Anyway, it does provide me with an opportunity to learn and grow as a photographer and business owner; stay tuned and I’ll let you know what happens next.

There are those in the panoply of Scripture that shine with the glory of the God who called them, whose service to God seem so far removed from my everyday life that I really cannot identify with them.  In all of those cases God is careful to record some of their foibles and failures to show that He can indeed use “…cracked pots…” (as Patsy Clairmont put it), but trying to see myself as Abraham, David or Paul just seems the height of lunacy.  How can I be as they, used mightily to proclaim the Word when I have a hard enough time getting through one hour without straying from the God I love (one reason why Robert Robinson’s hymn, Come Thou Font of Every Blessing, is a favorite)?

But God (a favorite phrase) has shown me time and again since my re-entering society that there is something I can do; that grace can be extended to me in various ways in and out of the Church, that I am not forever condemned or to be discarded because of my past.  There have been examples of trust extended to me by businesses and other organizations that amazed me; indeed recently such a level of trust was given me that I all but cried to realize that I was truly becoming (as my wife once phrased it) an ex-ex-felon.  No longer tainted with the brush that so many would always paint me despite the work of God in my heart to create a new man within and of me, but emerging as from a chrysalis new and hopeful of service to others and to my God.  Whether in my volunteer work with such organizations as Our Children’s Place, the USO-NC or my friends at Go Realty who continue to encourage and support me, even in those who have helped and supported me as I launch my new photography business; in a myriad of ways I have been shown incredible grace and being, as the writer of Hebrews stated, “…surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…” (Hebrews 12:1 ESV),

What brought all of this into focus recently was a series of lessons by Chuck Swindoll (Insight for Living) from 2 Samuel, specifically on the son of David’s beloved friend Jonathan, a man named Mephibosheth.  Crippled as a youth when his nurse was fleeing from the expected wrath of the new king (David) upon the death of the old (Saul), he lived an isolated and seemingly forgotten life in a place called Lo-debar which, when you look at the Hebrew, gives meaning to the Beatle’s song, He’s a Real Nowhere Man.  This son of Jonathan could expect nothing more than summary execution by David as he sought to remove all potential competition to his throne, but an amazing thing happens.  David has Mephibosheth brought from nowhere to the throne room where he finds not judgment and death, but grace and life in the court of the king!  Why?  What could this son of Jonathan add to the court, what service could Mephibosheth render to the king to make his addition to the court worthwhile?

Nothing, nada, zip, zilch, zero.

Despite his being a cripple, his not being able to “do” anything to aid the crown, David includes him in his inner circle, treating him as equal to one of his own sons!  Did not our King and Savior treat us all equally gracefully?  Spiritually crippled by the fall, prone to abandon His call at odd times to pursue the questionable pleasures of this life and world, weak and wandering yet our King pursues us and brings us into His court to live with Him forever!  As a loving parent playing ‘tea’ with a beloved daughter or watching with pride as a son hammers away at some nails and wood, we are included in His work not because of our ability or holiness, but because of His great love and grace.  Yeah, I am Mephibosheth; are not we all?