Eric’s Sunday Sermon; Cry out for Help

Cry out for help is not like a phone call. Sorry to say a cry out for help is usually strange behavior. The cry out for help is usually not even made. It is a cry out for help we miss. The crier does weird things as the cry out for help.

Mania and depression are nasty conditions. You cannot always catch them in yourself or others.

Once again I have a wonderful Sermon written up. But it went into the bin with so many more. They look real nice but they ain’t got the jazz. And then I get struck with love and a desire to share that. I preached in a church for around 5 years. I did trials for about 10. I never ever wrote down a sermon or “opening statement”. If it did not come from the heart instead of a piece of paper it just stunk in my opinion.

If you need to write down the facts or citations then you do not know them. And that brings me back around to the point. If you cannot tell the signs of someone in distress well then go back to bed.

I messed up real bad and did not see them in a friend. I did not need a check list. I just needed to feel his heart. Impeaching myself over that leads to no good.

But I just plain screwed up as a best buddy. He is one of those friends who deny pain. He just will not show hurt. That is not my call. I have to feel how he feels. And I just did not do it. Damn it I failed. Abhorrent behavior in someone is a cry for help. Eric missed it. So we step up and deal with it when it gets bad. And that may be too late.

I could not get him into therapy or church. I could not get him to come to my house for a bit. I was too late. Vandalism, GBI (great bodily injury) and drunk driving all in one. He called in that I kidnapped him and I woke up to a Patrolman in my home. Great guy by the way, coffee and some cookies. My son was so impressed. He just assumed the copper was a friend. And indeed they all are around here. I never had a fight with first responder. Love them.

Failure sucks. But then you get up and meet up with your mistake. You will do them again if you do not. Your God will help you with that if you let God. I have already lived in heaven and some say hell. I never recognized hell on earth. Just something to do with hope I reckon. But this missing the mark makes me consternation and interrupts my sleep and calm. Now a freak like me does not do that well. I do peace and love and try to do right. I have to do failure better.

We fail our friends sometimes. We fail our families sometimes. By golly we fail our enemies and strangers sometimes. I have to get over it or I will fail another. Get up and put your big boy pants and do better and do not carry forth guilt. Cool to say isn’t it, crazy hard to do.

What is it with big bad guys that makes them not ask for help? Just spank me hard and put me to bed without dinner. But what should be and is worse is a friend not seeing the cry for help. We are not allowed to fail our friends in need. I just will not accept that in myself.

We have some issues around this family. One member just should not drive at this time. I just cannot get the problem. But in this case I am all over it. We step up and protect the one who needs help. Alright we miss a step or two. But the effort is there. And so far so good. We do some hand holding. And just us, we pray a lot.

At this time I to mind the United States Civil War. The fine men and women of slavery could not speak out. But our good friend and Leader Abraham Lincoln could. Better than me he felt the wrong and suffering. 100’s of thousands of soldiers lost their lives for voices they could not hear. But by leadership they did hear them. Can we do less for those voices in the alleys and byways. Sanctuary is political. That is a load of crap. The hand out should come from government it must come directly from us.

My son picked out the sleeping bag. From our local Veterans Store. I thought kind of ugly but within our price range and worthy. We did not hand it out. We gave it to the Bodega owner as he knows the homeless better than us.

Now do not get me wrong here. But I just give the “checkbook” over to my wife. Buying a gift is not in my purview. My son and I do arts and crafts and give them. Mom does “real” gifts. Don’t know about that. They all have our arts and crafts but don’t know about the real gifts. Perhaps that cry out is about something inside us and not outside of us. Go figure that out and get back to me. Is there something wrong with tongue depressors and lolly pop sticks as an ornament with a picture?

We are working on letters today. You know, those funny ones handwritten. Seems that 20 years later they still have them. I suppose they don’t have my emails.

Cry for help needs to be stopped before it begins.

They have this great term they call “proactive”. I think that means I teach my son before he has a problem. Maybe something more deep. Maybe in is a deal within us. Should I force my boy to play with me or should I just let him do imaginary by himself? If you think you have answers then you are an idiot with a capital I. Predicting and planning for the future is great. Those who “live in the moment but have savings account” make me think hard. You cannot live in the moment yet save for the future. That would be total hypocrisy.

How much do you save for you and how much do you save for others? I am telling you this is brutal stuff. I normally go warm and fuzzy. But a birth of a savior took some real guts. You need to get them too this time of years. Don’t give your daughter a gift, give one to a homeless. Just saying.

Sorry have to go puke now. Do not be concerned. That is just what us Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma patients do from time to time.

OK back on my game. James and I hugged and said merry Christmas. Just a checkout clerk at the local store. Maybe that is not allowed? He don’t care and I don’t care. So fire us from loving.

I have been listening and watching choirs this last bit and I just can’t think of a more diverse group. First I like age diversity. Different people have different voices. Judge other people by the problem not the good? I spent some time singing gospel in a Vietnamese Catholic choir. Now I am not Vietnamese or Catholic.

Figure out if I was not crying for help. Nope, I was crying to help. It worked, I became a preacher man.