How to Help your Kids with Depression

My mom has helped me so much over the years be more than just a default I need your help parent but has been my rock and my friend. Just like the into the light video this is the start of a series of videos tackling depression. My mom talks about what a parent can do. Filmed where it all went down in Laguna Niguel at Salt Creek beach.

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Steady

Just for fun here’s some meaning in this:

The song rollercoaster by the Bleachers..’come a little closer!’ Fruity Camper award at summer camp when I was 9 or ten years old so about 20 years ago. The fruit part was not a gay reference it was that I had a lot of Joy! It is sad now that certain upbeat emotions in a man get translated as the femininity that comes with being gay, instead of the idea that a man can be tender and cry and have a “feminine” side that is healthy in being a man. The idea of both genders misunderstanding these things has created division among the sexes. The Pizza parlor reference is about winter 2012 taking a Psychology class at Longview College and hanging out after class.

You’re a roller

You’re on the coast,

I am pushing the peddles

I am pushing the whittles of

Child with five skittles,

Fruity me,

Fruity camper,

Oh how gay,

Oh now its Paraguay,

I can’t grow without you,

I don’t want to stretch without

You next to me–come a little closer,

Is love a choice without a risk,

Without a sacrifice–

I don’t say no anymore–

This head was made for thinking

But this life made for living–

You used to go to church,

Now you are still on the search

Pizza parlor in the winter, 36 hours

Later was the coldness of December–

Closer is a myth when their lives on regret-

To make a dent, to pay the rent, to keep the

Rubber on the road with love about to explode–

Your love is the heat, I am cold, I am up, I am

Down,

Steady aim, steady heart!

Continually

16“Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.Isa. 49:16

Covered in ink, tattooed for glory

But should I show it? Something to remember You—

How the summer was never meant for adventure but

How it has come to that—do I make money off of this

Reflection? Probably not but the worth is in the wait—

This tent is for rent and I keep repeating that—this body

Is more broken then yesteryear, then the love way down there

Below the sea where no one can see—

Killjoy for this party called hanging out, called games and toys

And loud noises—but without love I am a no show just like

Those who once said yes, who once gave their best, where are they

Now?

Now I am covered in ink, it makes me think—

Something to remember Your mercy—

Hide us, run from us! The wrath is here to stay,

The lamb slain is here to stay—

I am a doubting kind of man, a hollow right hand seems

To swoop down upon me—I just have words and memories—

Those bright hallways, that half caffeinated waiting room,

That circular observatory, those hallways of glory, those

Daily take downs, those card game labors, those in between

Friends that sat on the curb with me,

Colored red for emergency, but isn’t mercy

The urgency? It hurts leaving some behind, leaving

To a new city to hide behind—

Like the ink I carry I will not forget those friendships

For they will be with me forever and in forever we

Will continue, for aren’t we apart of that continuing

City, will You build my walls continually—the right ones,

The bright one’s, the loveless adventures in the fluorescent

Sunrise, in this plastic city called reality—it is here, it is now,

But I wait for You continually, ready to call this place Your

Home

Get Up!

Reflecting on how good God is and how much we can hate ourselves.

The great delay as some would say
The hours to slave away—making the
Rent, making another dent on the freeway—
Its rims, its rubber, it’s a life sucker—
Waiting is hard for the hard hearted, for
Saving is a once but changing is a daily
Must—heart hardens with no more mercy
Pardons, judgment day coming—one life,
One death, one sentence, one gavel drop
For this body on borrow, this pain with its
Sorrow, this rental of a shadow I carry with me—
Peter power for the sick, just one touch and power
Is released-
To long now has man hated his existence
Has lived in constant resistance,
To long now has this body been hated at,
Motivated to change by sun and waves
But there is sand in these dreams, its morsels
Is with me called knowledge, called glory,
Called covering the earth like that great big
Sea—
To long have you casted your shadows and covered
Your eyes, they shine bright with light—it is always our
Fault though we get the salt, its always our decision though
We get mercy in the revision—
We have been down for to long now—
We have sorrowed much to long now—
All face death but some carry its sting—
Loss is never a crossword puzzle,
Is never ten letters or less—its sorrow
Carries day to day until escape is desired—
We groan, we wait, this tent is for rent—
His signature signs anyone’s departure—
God up above, daily misunderstood—
Words in red make me dead for I cannot be
Perfect with all these beautiful imperfections—
You have a slant, you have a dent, its all the same
God but no one is not special, air it like a commercial—
Made unique, made with purpose, made to no longer
Hate what has been perfectly made—eyes now light up
With truth, this body has purpose, this flesh is not a waste
Of Your time, I am Thomas, I am doubting, I am now shouting
That those wounds were real, those scars will stay indelible,
Will stay incredible—Jesus Christ is no superstar, is no musical
On repeat—He bears the wounds meant for me, meant for
Humanity—angels look down and cast their crowns—only
This tent of a body can carry light and truth and give it back
As proof of Your love—we are down, we are hard pressed,
We are full of sorrow but the greatest change comes with
Just one look at Your fiery eyes—I will speak, I will seek,
I will say all that I can possibly see—up now, to the highest place!

Forgery

Forgery affair

Stacks of I don’t care

Windows back to that

Summer of lack

Poverty stricken

Plastic driven

White box detox

Memories of the first time

I saw You,

Memories of the redo

Of the slick backed hairdo

Super cut, in the gut, it lives

And moves and finds it being in

Me

The undo button

Became a glutton

For love smitten

Is the sanded side of

The ship—the one with

Power is the one this hour!

Down I go, lower to the floor

Here on God’s great dance floor!

I am alive, there is no turning back

You have forged in me a new me

One that can never be the same—

He who looks back is not fit for

This invisible kingdom—

Suffering I say for the man that

Does not sway—keep me, bind me

But I will not stay in the middle—

I will live for You

Probably Not

Its been some time since I’ve explained meaning behind the prose. Of recent I’ve received a lot of new followers. I love and appreciate that a lot! I am really encouraged by the interaction with those in the wordpress world. Of any piece of writing style on this blog poetry has received the most attention.

This particular poem is putting together cynicism at the past and the body of Christ. The optimist in me believes in a lot of people and movements and my current church echoes of a cry for “revival!” But sometimes when you have heard one message with the same bullet points it becomes questionable not because of the information but because of the lack of transformation. Its mostly on me actually. Yes, leaders are accoutable more than “followers!” but who stands before the Judgment seat of Christ? How many parables point to leaders? Not many. Whether a wise virgin or a foolish one or whether you are a wheat or a tare or whether you are a coward and bury your talent in the sand we all stand before Christ. And its a one on one conversation.

How many things do we need to listen to that are not the bible. Maybe I am young but it seems like its a money maker to be “prophetic.” I have no interest in attending some flighty prophetic conference that will give a lot of words that I could have just googled. I am not picking a side or am in a position to criticize but what is the truth? And who is responsible for finding it out. ALL OF US. Its not on one person or one church or one leader. Its on you.

Sometimes there is no other way

Sidewalk chalk with His body on the pavement

Son of Man that made the payment,

Blood spilled dreams now fulfilled in You

Furiously free and never at ease,

Backyard talks with the sun free of charge,

Who am I without the tabernacle?

Who am I away from that place?

Blue floor turned to gray,

Millions that see it every day,

Trouble with your interpretation

For it seems like the only way to look

At things is the gnostic things,

The inner knowing from all the

Pressing, from all the dressing

Seems fake sometimes that no

One really has the answer,

Seems like a form cause there’s

Little power,

Fear of being wrong is worse

Then being right,

I am not young anymore,

I’ve hit the books like the rest

Of them,

I’ve hit the floor like the rest

Of them,

I’ve been through suffering

At the edge of dying,

At the piling up shame and

Regret,

Guilt has killed me worse then

Murder, worse then lust,

Worse than girls and going

Much to far—

Self righteous is a warning

From the man that had all

The sex and wisdom needed

To be a man,

False is not wrong information

But manipulation in the power

That you have  been given,

Gentiles know nothing of

Being Jewish and we might

Never know what it is like to

Be bombed at everyday,

Who’s right? Probably no

One—who’s wrong? Probably

Everything I say and think—

Who is worthy? Not me,

To even speak?

To even talk of Holy things?

To even say that prayer is always

The answer is as good as curing

Cancer—its not an answer when

Someone is suffering,

So I am sick of church

Sick of the seats,

Sick of the liars next

To me, sick of all the probably

Messengers that have nothing

To really say,

Sick of language that is

Perverse, that is false but

Dressed up like righteous.

Most of all I am sick of me,

Sick of fear,

Sick of regret

Sick of looking at the cross

And not being changed—

Worthy is a worthless

Word to a lazy man that

Will not live different

Worthless is a show in the

Name of being different

Worthless are the bullets that

They fire, for I will not accept

Another’s calling when I am

Standing before Him,

No one really will matter then

But how I treated the confusion

And the cynicism, that is the greatest

Test of all

Rewarder

Caffeine tower

Empty lighter

Cigarette full of empty

Something to say has always haunted me

Talker, fast walker, a use to be runner

Sunny side up on those eggs

Dark shadows like bags to carry

Roads real scary for those that want

No fear—worthy is a worthless word

Without the work of not being sure—

Effort is a slave to the peace it takes

To please You, never a yoke without

A stroke, never rest without nights of

Regret for time spent on paying rent—

Is money my curse when I don’t have

A purse to fill with empty pennies?

Questions with no answers is my cancer—

I will answer them in due time

But until then I will sacrifice

The caffeine, the sugar, the lean

And the fat and the news that You

Reward those who seek You, its in

Your hands—the rewards that You

Have