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Saint Dirty Face

Tag: #ImperfectOnPurpose

  • THE GOOD CHINA

    Robert

    Use the good shit.

    The good plates.

    The expensive bottle you’ve been saving.

    The jacket you don’t wear because you don’t want to mess it up.

    The vacation days.

    The guitar sitting in the case.

    The words “I love you.”

    We’ve somehow convinced ourselves that the best parts of life should be protected from… life.

    My parents’ generation had cabinets full of dishes nobody was apparently important enough to eat from.

    Beautiful china.

    Untouched for decades.

    Passed down in perfect condition.

    Which is impressive when you think about it.

    We successfully protected the plates from dinner.

    😂

    We do the same thing with ourselves.

    I’ll travel when things settle down.

    I’ll call him next week.

    I’ll start painting again when I have more time.

    I’ll wear that when I lose ten pounds.

    I’ll tell her what she means to me when the moment is right.

    I’ll enjoy my life after I finish dealing with all this shit.

    Brother—

    “all this shit” is life.

    I’m not saying blow the retirement account on a motorcycle and disappear into New Mexico.

    Although that’s considerably more interesting than most financial advice.

    I’m saying stop treating joy like something that needs to remain factory sealed.

    Responsibility matters.

    Planning matters.

    Sacrifice matters.

    But there is a difference between preparing for tomorrow and continually postponing today.

    Faith doesn’t promise us eighty years.

    Medicine doesn’t.

    Money doesn’t.

    Your calendar sure as hell doesn’t.

    We get this day.

    So use something you’ve been saving.

    Call somebody before there’s a reason you can’t.

    Wear the ridiculous shirt.

    Play the record loud enough to annoy a teenager.

    Take your wife somewhere on a Tuesday for absolutely no reason.

    Eat the damn dessert occasionally.

    And when somebody you love walks through the door—

    look up from the screen.

    Because someday the things you’ll miss most won’t be the expensive things.

    They’ll be stupid little ordinary moments you didn’t realize were becoming memories.

    Life is going to leave scratches.

    Good.

    That’s how we’ll know we actually used it.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • LEAVE THE LIGHT ON

    Robert

    Somebody you love is going to make a decision you absolutely hate.

    Maybe you’ve warned them.

    Maybe you’ve helped them.

    Maybe you’ve watched them walk straight toward the same wall they already hit twice.

    And every protective instinct in you says:

    Stop them.

    But eventually you learn one of the shittier lessons of loving people:

    You cannot rescue someone by taking away their right to choose.

    You can tell the truth.

    You can offer your hand.

    You can set boundaries.

    You can refuse to finance the disaster.

    You can say, I love you, but I won’t help you destroy yourself.

    And then sometimes—

    you have to let them walk.

    That’s not abandonment.

    And it sure as hell isn’t indifference.

    It’s understanding that love doesn’t give us ownership of another person’s life.

    Some lessons cannot be handed down.

    They have to be lived.

    That doesn’t mean you stand there smugly waiting for the inevitable I told you so.

    Hell no.

    When somebody you love finally turns around, bruised by a lesson you desperately wanted to spare them from, they don’t need a prosecutor.

    They need to know where home is.

    There is strength in saying:

    I warned you because I love you.

    I couldn’t choose for you because I love you.

    And I’m still here because I love you.

    Faith has something to say about that too.

    God gave human beings free will.

    Maybe there’s something worth learning from the fact that even divine love doesn’t operate like a hostage situation.

    So protect when protection is yours to give.

    Speak when truth needs a voice.

    Set the boundary when the boundary needs setting.

    Then understand where your authority ends.

    Sometimes love grabs someone’s hand.

    Sometimes love lets go.

    And sometimes love simply—

    leaves the porch light on.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • THE ARMOR FIT THEN

    Robert

    Be careful judging the armor you once needed just because you don’t need it anymore.

    There are things about ourselves we eventually decide we don’t like.

    We don’t trust easily.

    We overthink.

    We stay alert when everybody else relaxes.

    We have trouble asking for help.

    We prepare for disasters that haven’t happened.

    We keep one emotional suitcase packed near the door.

    And eventually somebody tells us:

    You need to let that shit go.

    Maybe.

    But before you throw it away, understand why you picked it up.

    Some habits weren’t born because you were weak.

    They were built because, at some point, they worked.

    Maybe being hyperaware helped you read a room where moods changed without warning.

    Maybe becoming fiercely independent happened because the people who were supposed to show up didn’t.

    Maybe humor became your emergency exit.

    Maybe silence kept an argument from becoming something worse.

    Maybe you became the dependable one because somebody had to hold the damn roof up.

    That doesn’t mean those behaviors should control the rest of your life.

    Survival skills can become lousy roommates once the emergency is over.

    The same armor that protected you can eventually keep people who love you from getting close.

    That’s where growth gets uncomfortable.

    Because healing isn’t pretending the armor was stupid.

    And it isn’t worshipping your wounds because they made you “strong.”

    It’s being able to look at an old defense mechanism and say:

    You kept me alive.

    Thank you.

    But I don’t live there anymore.

    There’s no shame in becoming softer where life once required you to become hard.

    There’s no weakness in asking for help after decades of being everybody else’s help.

    And there is absolutely nothing noble about bleeding indefinitely just because you became good at hiding the stain.

    Sometimes strength is carrying the weight.

    Sometimes strength is finally putting it down.

    The trick is knowing which season you’re in.

    Faith works somewhere inside that too.

    Maybe God didn’t bring you this far just so you could spend the rest of your life permanently braced for impact.

    Maybe peace feels suspicious because chaos was familiar.

    That doesn’t make peace dangerous.

    It makes peace new.

    So keep the parts of your armor that still protect what matters:

    Discernment.

    Courage.

    Boundaries.

    Loyalty.

    The ability to stand when standing is required.

    But the rest?

    Brother…

    you can loosen the straps.

    The war that built you doesn’t get to own you.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • USE THE GOOD STUFF

    Robert

    At some point you realize you’ve been saving things for a special occasion while life has been quietly using up the occasions.

    We’re weird like that.

    The good whiskey.

    The expensive shirt.

    Granddad’s watch.

    The guitar you don’t want scratched.

    The dishes nobody is apparently important enough to eat off.

    The vacation you’ll take when things settle down.

    The phone call you’ll make when you have more time.

    The words you’ll say when the moment is right.

    We save everything.

    For later.

    As if later signed a contract.

    Gen X should probably know better.

    We grew up being told to rewind the damn videotape because somebody else was waiting for it.

    Nothing lasts forever.

    😂

    I’ve become less interested in preserving things perfectly and more interested in giving them a life.

    Wear the watch.

    Play the guitar.

    Drive the car.

    Open the bottle.

    Take the picture even though your hair looks like hell.

    Tell your friend you love him.

    Sit with your mother.

    Listen to the kid tell the ridiculously long story.

    Kiss your wife in the kitchen.

    Use the damn dishes.

    Because someday somebody may inherit the things you protected.

    But they can’t inherit the Tuesday night you could have spent together.

    That’s the part nobody tells you.

    We spend years protecting objects from life—

    when the marks life leaves on them are often what eventually makes them priceless.

    The scratched watch.

    The faded photograph.

    The guitar worn smooth where your hand rested.

    The table with dents from family dinners.

    Those aren’t damages.

    They’re receipts.

    Proof that something was here.

    Proof that you were here.

    Faith has made me increasingly aware that tomorrow is something I can hope for, plan for, prepare for—

    but never own.

    So I’m keeping some things for later.

    Retirement money?

    Absolutely.

    Emergency supplies?

    Hell yes.

    The good bourbon until Friday?

    Let’s not become animals.

    😂

    But life?

    I’m trying not to save too much of that.

    USE THE GOOD STUFF.

    You are already living the special occasion.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • THE GOOD OLD DAYS ARE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.

    Robert

    That thought has been fucking with me.

    Because we’re good at recognizing the good old days approximately fifteen years after they happen.

    We miss the old house after we move.

    The dog after his spot by the couch is empty.

    The kids being little after they stop needing us to reach the top shelf.

    The noise around the dinner table after the chairs start spreading across different houses.

    We miss people after we can no longer call them.

    And suddenly all those completely ordinary days become sacred.

    Funny how memory works.

    It rarely preserves the Tuesday when everybody was home, somebody was bitching about what was for dinner, laundry was sitting in the dryer for the third damn day, and you were irritated because you couldn’t find the remote.

    But lose enough Tuesdays…

    and you’d trade almost anything for one more.

    That’s the trap.

    We keep waiting for life to become significant enough to appreciate.

    The vacation.

    The promotion.

    The retirement.

    The house finally paid off.

    The magical future Thursday when everybody has their shit together.

    Meanwhile, life keeps happening in sweatpants.

    I’m not saying “live every day like it’s your last.”

    That sounds exhausting.

    If today were actually my last day, I’m definitely not cleaning the garage.

    I’m saying something smaller.

    Notice it.

    Notice who still calls.

    Notice whose shoes are by the door.

    Notice the laugh coming from the other room.

    Notice the person beside you who has heard the same story seventeen times and somehow still lets you finish it.

    Notice your body carrying you through another day, even if it complains about the warranty every morning.

    Notice the ordinary.

    Faith has changed that for me.

    I used to think sacred moments needed some kind of announcement.

    Turns out a lot of them look suspiciously like dinner.

    Maybe gratitude isn’t pretending everything is wonderful.

    Some seasons suck.

    Some days deserve exactly the amount of gratitude required to get through them and go the hell to bed.

    But even inside difficult seasons, there can be things worth noticing.

    Because someday, without warning, right now becomes back then.

    And there’s a decent chance you’ll miss parts of it.

    So take the picture.

    But put the phone down afterward.

    Stay at the table another ten minutes.

    Make the call.

    Listen to the boring story.

    Pet the old dog.

    Let the kid tell you something that takes fourteen minutes and could’ve taken thirty seconds.

    You don’t have to turn every moment into a memory.

    Just be there while it’s still a moment.

    THE GOOD OLD DAYS
ARE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • SOME DOORS DON’T CLOSE. YOU JUST STOP GOING BACK.

    Robert

    Closure is overrated.

    Half the people who hurt you couldn’t explain themselves if you gave them a microphone, a whiteboard, and three business days.

    Yet we wait.

    For the apology.

    The explanation.

    The conversation where everything finally makes sense.

    The moment they look us in the eye and say:

    You were right. I understand what I did.

    Sometimes that moment comes.

    When it does, appreciate it.

    Sometimes two decent people sit down, tell the truth, own their part, forgive each other, and save something worth saving.

    Fight for those relationships.

    But sometimes?

    There is no final conversation.

    No missing piece.

    No beautifully wrapped explanation waiting behind the curtain.

    Just two people carrying completely different versions of the same history.

    That used to bother the hell out of me.

    I thought moving forward required understanding everything behind me.

    It doesn’t.

    You can leave a question unanswered without letting it become your address.

    You can forgive someone who never understood why forgiveness was necessary.

    You can remember the good without rewriting the bad.

    You can miss somebody and still know they no longer belong in your life.

    And you can admit your own part without volunteering to carry theirs.

    That isn’t bitterness.

    That’s accounting.

    Faith taught me something uncomfortable about this:

    Sometimes you don’t get the explanation.

    You get enough light for the next step.

    Apparently God is less interested in giving me the director’s commentary than I am.

    Annoying.

    But fair.

    So if the apology comes, listen.

    If reconciliation is honest and possible, don’t let pride kill it.

    If you owe the apology, make the damn call.

    But if you’ve spent years waiting for somebody else to hand you permission to move forward—

    maybe permission was never theirs to give.

    SOME DOORS DON’T CLOSE.

    YOU JUST STOP GOING BACK.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • SOME DOORS DON’T CLOSE. YOU JUST STOP GOING BACK.

    Robert

    Closure is overrated.

    Half the people who hurt you couldn’t explain themselves if you gave them a microphone, a whiteboard, and three business days.

    Yet we wait.

    For the apology.

    The explanation.

    The conversation where everything finally makes sense.

    The moment they look us in the eye and say:

    You were right. I understand what I did.

    Sometimes that moment comes.

    When it does, appreciate it.

    Sometimes two decent people sit down, tell the truth, own their part, forgive each other, and save something worth saving.

    Fight for those relationships.

    But sometimes?

    There is no final conversation.

    No missing piece.

    No beautifully wrapped explanation waiting behind the curtain.

    Just two people carrying completely different versions of the same history.

    That used to bother the hell out of me.

    I thought moving forward required understanding everything behind me.

    It doesn’t.

    You can leave a question unanswered without letting it become your address.

    You can forgive someone who never understood why forgiveness was necessary.

    You can remember the good without rewriting the bad.

    You can miss somebody and still know they no longer belong in your life.

    And you can admit your own part without volunteering to carry theirs.

    That isn’t bitterness.

    That’s accounting.

    Faith taught me something uncomfortable about this:

    Sometimes you don’t get the explanation.

    You get enough light for the next step.

    Apparently God is less interested in giving me the director’s commentary than I am.

    Annoying.

    But fair.

    So if the apology comes, listen.

    If reconciliation is honest and possible, don’t let pride kill it.

    If you owe the apology, make the damn call.

    But if you’ve spent years waiting for somebody else to hand you permission to move forward—

    maybe permission was never theirs to give.

    SOME DOORS DON’T CLOSE.

    YOU JUST STOP GOING BACK.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • I WAS WRONG.

    Robert

    There are three words harder to say than “I love you.”

    I WAS WRONG.

    Not:

    I’m sorry you felt that way.

    Not:

    That wasn’t my intention.

    Not:

    Well, you did some shit too.

    Just—

    I was wrong.

    That sentence has buried more egos than any insult ever could.

    Because eventually you live long enough to discover something uncomfortable:

    You weren’t right every time.

    You misjudged people.

    You trusted some who didn’t deserve it.

    Distrusted some who did.

    You stayed too long.

    Left too early.

    Said things you wish you could pull back out of the air.

    And sometimes the hill you were prepared to die on?

    Turns out it was just a fucking hill.

    Growing older is supposed to give us wisdom.

    But wisdom isn’t collecting enough experience that nobody can correct you anymore.

    It’s having enough experience to recognize when correction is deserved.

    Faith requires some of that too.

    Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself.

    It’s understanding that truth doesn’t become false just because it embarrasses you.

    So change your mind when the evidence changes.

    Apologize when you hurt somebody.

    Correct what you can.

    Forgive yourself for what you genuinely didn’t know then.

    And when you discover you were wrong—

    don’t waste another decade protecting the version of you who made the mistake.

    Let him learn.

    Then let him go.

    Being wrong doesn’t make you weak.

    Refusing to learn from it might.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • I DON’T KNOW YET.

    Robert

    We’ve turned uncertainty into some kind of character defect.

    Everybody needs an answer.

    Immediately.

    What’s the plan?

    What happens next?

    Are you okay?

    Did you forgive them?

    Did you find your purpose?

    Have you figured out what God was trying to teach you?

    Jesus, man.

    Sometimes the most truthful answer is:

    I DON’T KNOW YET.

    That isn’t weakness.

    It isn’t quitting.

    And it sure as hell isn’t a lack of faith.

    Sometimes faith is continuing to walk when nobody handed you the damn map.

    Some things take time before they make sense.

    Some never do.

    You can live a meaningful life without solving every mystery that hurt you.

    You can forgive somebody without understanding them.

    You can love somebody and still disagree with them.

    You can grieve without finding a lesson hidden inside it.

    And you can stand in the middle of uncertainty without inventing some bullshit answer just because silence makes everybody uncomfortable.

    Wisdom isn’t knowing everything.

    Sometimes wisdom is knowing which answers you haven’t earned yet.

    I DON’T KNOW YET.

    There’s more courage in those four words than most people realize.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.

  • THE SCAR IS THE RECEIPT

    Robert

    You hear a lot about getting back to the person you were before everything went sideways.

    Why?

    That poor bastard didn’t know what was coming.

    Life breaks things. Trust. Plans. Families. Bodies. Sometimes faith gets dragged behind the truck for a few miles too.

    Then comes the repair.

    Not restoration.

    Repair.

    There’s a difference.

    Restoration tries to hide what happened. Repair says, Yeah, it broke. Here’s where we put it back together.

    That scar isn’t evidence that you failed.

    It’s the receipt.

    Proof something cost you.

    Proof you paid for it.

    Proof you’re still carrying the merchandise.

    So quit apologizing because the seams show.

    Some of the strongest things in this world have weld marks.

    SAINT DIRTY FACE™
    Imperfect on Purpose. Faithful with Fangs.