Sorry… took a break from The Psalmist to write the story in the previous blog…  here’s the continuation…

You can’t serve God and money.  So in a way you give up God for your kids.  We just don’t call it this, and some would just call it the American Dream—a fact—a truth we have to face if we’re to succeed or fail at the rules of life… and the ways of this world.  But we call our children our legacy forgetting the fact that we were once the legacy of our parents.  We forget the continuation.  And so one legacy dies for another to begin.  This happening over and over.  As we hope it will be better.  As we tell ourselves the same lies our fathers told themselves—that lie that your dreams don’t matter anymore—you have children to look after…  There is truth to this, but there’s also truth in God being our legacy.  All of us followers of it as children and then as parents, in what goes out and what comes back—the origin, that continuity—that first cause, the first legacy that never died to beget another…  And we sell it.  We sell out to our fears, to our knowledge that we will surely die—our eternity shunned for stuff.  We know we’ve been beat, but the stuff, well—that’s alluring.  We decide we can’t be our father’s dreams.  The legacy we once were to our parents traded for the simple necessities—the necessities they provided in giving up being a legacy as well.  There were bills to pay.  Mouths to feed.  And happiness can’t be won without it—what’s necessary—those simple, harsh necessities…  David was just stubborn.  Maybe memories of that crossroads made him leery of telling himself a lie, that same lie his father told when he wasn’t fishing.  The lie that he would do it.  He would do what he had to do for money so his children would have what they needed.  So they wouldn’t feel bad under peer pressure.  Their clothes bought in the same places their schoolmates purchased their clothes.  All the same gadgets, personified in choices of ringtones and screensavers.  Summer camps and all the supplies for hobbies, whether it be paint, ice skates, or dance lessons….  It just seemed wrong to him.  Though it caused David countless pain and loss.  For he might of thought it was wrong, but he was outnumbered—even his father not on his side, on the other side of the argument—on that side in which lies lead to truth–for he was his father’s truth.  He was the truth in the lies his father had to tell himself…

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