I’ve been thinking about the way I write… People probably know by now that I don’t use big.. fancy words.. It’s not because I can’t… I just don’t feel right doing it.. That’s not how I talk in real life — so why would I try to sound that way on the page?
And even though I don’t use fancy words in my stories… I still love words.. All of them.. Simple ones… complex ones… everything in between.. I’m always growing my vocabulary — I just don’t force it into my storytelling.. And who knows… maybe once in awhile I’ll go all out — and try to impress you… haha..
When I tell a story… my story… I want the feel to be like I’m right there with you… Just talking… just being me.. If I start dressing it up with words I’d never say out loud — then it’s not my story anymore… it turns into something else.
So I keep it simple… I keep it honest… I keep it the way it comes out of my mouth…
And maybe one day I’ll throw in a “fancy” word or two just to mess with you… but it’ll be rare… and you’ll know it when you see it…
Because I’m after your heart… not your applause…
I’m not randomly doing things here… things are done purposely… I have a plan… and you are the most important part of it…
(Ps.. I also don’t like commas or single periods. 😁)
Beach or Mountains ??? which do you prefer ….?→~≈↔^/’…❓
Both places preach.. one with waves.. one with wind.. I’ve always been an outdoor sportsman.. at least I used to be.. These days work and ministry keep me busy.. but that part of me is still alive somewhere in there..
I lived in Florida for twelve years.. and I got used to the salt life.. I had a kayak.. and I’d fish the hidden corners of Tampa Bay.. mostly alone.. but sometimes with my friend Jimmy.. Bishop Harbor was my favorite.. I’d take whole weekends and just disappear.. camp on those tiny islands.. fish day and night.. no clock.. no noise.. just water and sky.. a kind of backwater solitude I still miss..
I also did a lot of freshwater bass fishing down there.. I’d bounce back and forth between saltwater and fresh.. Florida gave me both flavors.. and I never got tired of either one..
For a few years I even lived in a beach house on Anna Maria Island.. At high tide the waves from the Gulf broke about fifty feet from my back porch.. When I wasn’t working or fishing or swimming.. I’d sit out there.. play my guitar.. sing into the night.. and just watch the water drift through its moods.. In the dark I’d lay in bed and listen to the waves crash.. a steady sound that felt like the world breathing.. It was a sacred season in my life.. My roommate Nathan was there too.. a good friend.. He died of an overdose a few years later.. Good times.. memories I still smile about.. and I miss him..
But I also love the mountains.. I grew up fishing and exploring the North Georgia mountains.. Every summer.. me and my friends.. sometimes my dad or my uncle or both.. would drive 15 miles off the main road on a gravel trail to get to our camping spot on the Tallulah River.. It was quiet.. beautiful.. hidden away from everything.. We pitched tents.. built fires.. fished.. talked.. laughed.. and mostly fished haha.. And yes.. I catch fish 😁🎣 Even when you don’t catch anything.. it’s still great.. but I always catch them.. I fish for people now …..t`
Up there we always ate what we caught.. trout for breakfast.. lunch.. and dinner haha.. By the end I didn’t want any more fish for a while.. but I always looked forward to going back.. year after year.. from a kid into an adult.. those mountain memories run deep in me..
So therefore I can’t choose.. I’m part tides.. part timber.. Both preach.. Both shape me.. It’d be like choosing between your mother and your father haha…
In 2012.. I was running on spiritual fumes.. living and working down in Florida.. driving an 18-wheeler and hauling orange juice concentrate.. Most days I’d head down to the seaports.. wait for the massive container ships from Brazil.. then hook to a bulk tank and run it to one of the orange juice factories scattered across the state..
One day.. I was rolling down a long.. deserted.. country road in the middle of nowhere when something big.. black.. and winged shot across my path and smacked the front of my truck with violent force..
It happened so fast I couldn’t tell what kind of bird it was.. I just prayed it wasn’t a bald eagle—there were plenty of them in that area.. Whatever it was.. I knew it had to be dead.. No way anything could survive the hit I felt.. My anxiety climbed as I pulled over and walked to the front of the truck.. preparing myself for the worst..
But when I looked down.. lodged in an open section near the bottom of the grille.. was a huge black vulture—one of the largest I’d ever seen.. And it was still alive..
For a few moments.. I just stood there.. trying to process what I was seeing.. The bird was incredibly calm and strangely quiet.. It looked right at me with an expression I can only describe as.. “Please help me…”
There was no way I was going to grab this thing bare-handed.. I was certain it would lash out with its beak.. So I found a big stick on the side of the road and tried to pry it loose.. No luck.. The bird was wedged tight.. and part of it was pressed against the radiator—which was extremely hot.. I knew time wasn’t on its side..
I kept trying with one hand on the stick and one on a wing.. but it wasn’t working.. I was starting to make it worse..
Eventually.. I realized the truth.. I was going to have to pick this thing up with both hands..
Fear hit me hard… But I also knew I didn’t have a choice..
So I took a breath.. Said a small prayer.. Had myself a quiet ellipsis moment haha.. Then reached in..
I put both hands on the bird.. To my surprise.. it stayed gentle—completely calm.. completely trusting.. Its eyes were locked on me.. almost talking.. It knew I was trying to help.. As my fear faded.. a strange confidence grew.. I grabbed all over its body.. trying to find the angle to free it.. At one point.. I even had my hands around its neck and head.. carefully working it loose..
Finally.. with one good pull.. the vulture came free..
I lifted it high in my hands.. expecting it to explode into flight—but it didn’t.. It simply rested there…
It had just survived something that should have killed it.. and it needed a moment to breathe.. The amazing thing was… it wasn’t even injured.. not a broken wing.. not even a wobble.. nothing…
We stood there together for about a minute—me holding it.. it staring at me.. No fear on either side.. Just this strange wild peace…
Then it looked at me one last time.. as if to say thank you.. turned.. and flew…
I climbed back into my truck and drove on.. replaying the moment in my mind.. I still can’t believe it survived the impact.. Not only survived it—walked away completely fine…
And then the old saying hit me.. “Tough as an old buzzard…”
Now I understand where that phrase came from… those birds are built like tanks.. And on that day.. something wild trusted me — enough to rest in my hands… an indelible memory…
Wow… i just googled ‘tough as an old buzzard.’ to see how it came about.. I knew none of this…
(Where it comes from) The phrase “tough as an old buzzard” grew out of american frontier language in the 1800s.. early 1900s.. People on ranches.. homesteads.. and in desert regions watched buzzards (vultures) survive things almost nothing else could survive.. blistering heat.. drought.. storms.. rotten food.. injuries.. and just plain rough living.. Why a buzzard specifically? Because vultures/buzzards are famously hard to kill………… Cowboys and farmers noticed that even old.. beat-up buzzards still lived incredibly long and stayed sharp.. Their survival was legendary…
It all makes sense to me now 😁
And I relate……….. I’m also famously hard to kill 😁.. but that’s another story for another day… 😎`
If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be and why?
So there are so many historical figures I’d love to meet.. I’ve already met Jesus — I know Him personally.. better than I know anyone else — so let’s scratch Him off the list…
George Washington is one that fascinates me.. Most people don’t know the hidden pieces of his story.. It was like he couldn’t be killed in battle — as if something.. or someone.. was watching over him.. I believe that someone was my friend Jesus..
Native warriors supposedly had a name for him that meant “the man who couldn’t be killed by a bullet.” Maybe that part became legend over time… but the testimonies are wild.. After the 1755 Battle of the Monongahela.. one unnamed warrior said..
“Washington was never born to be killed by a bullet! I had seventeen fair fires at him… and.. after all.. could not bring him to the ground.”
And there were more stories like that — one after another — people watching him walk through battles untouched..
But as interesting as all that is… I think I’d rather meet my own family members — the ones who lived and died long before I was born..
About five years ago.. I started digging into my family history.. and there are so many I wish I could sit down with.. Some of my great-great grandparents had incredible stories.. One grandmother even had the same birthday as me.. Another ancestor lived a remarkable life.. I’d love to hear in his own voice.. and one grandmother died just before I was born — she was excited to meet me.. but she never got her chance..
I have famous relatives too — Richard Nixon.. William Penn.. John Penn — and ancestors who came over on the Mayflower.. I even discovered relatives who were directly involved in the Salem Witch Trials..
So yeah… as great as the heroes of history are.. I think the people I’d most want to meet are the ones whose blood runs through my veins… the ones who helped shape my story before I ever breathed..
So music means so much to me.. as you’re probably starting to see.. so I heard this song earlier.. and it brought back memories.. i once walked in on my mother.. she was alone and crying.. listening to this song.. turns out this one is special to her.. because it reminds her of me.. it’s the one song she has attached to me.. and I just noticed today.. that it was released the year I was born.. 1973.. something I’ve never noticed… all these years…
Two times in my life.. I’ve caught my mother crying to music.. here are both those songs…
When I was fourteen.. my best friend was killed in a dirt-bike accident.. I can’t begin to tell you what it did to me… Crushed is the only word I have right now.. and even that feels too small..
We were closer than brothers..
After the funeral.. I fell into my bedroom. That room became my world — my home inside my home.. I shut down.. Closed myself off.. No access allowed..
Everyone was worried about me..
It felt like I was on a camping trip in the wilderness alone.. And I stayed there for a whole year..
I needed something… but I didn’t know what..
I started borrowing CDs and cassette tapes from my uncle..
I found an old tape in a forgotten box in the attic — Bob Dylan’s Another Side of Bob Dylan… and I disappeared into it.
rock… country… blues… folk… old… new…
Hank Williams Jr… And the only Christian song I even knew back then.. Amazing Grace..
I didn’t just listen — I drank it.. And the more I drank.. the thirstier I got.. So I went swimming in it.. Something I still do..
Meanwhile.. God was walking the edges of me…
One night.. I awoke from a dream that wouldn’t let go… and there in the corner of my room was a silhouette.. shaped like a guitar..
my mother was so worried about me she didn’t know what else to do.. So she got me an acoustic guitar.. And one night.. while I was sleeping… she placed it right where I would see it.. the moment I opened my eyes..
and so I took it
I played it… and I played it… and I played it…
until my fingers bled
until it started playing me..
I learned it — taught myself — until it learned me back..
Song after song.. Day after day.. night after night… Month after month.. From the fall of 1988 into the winter of 1989..
I played it…..
until it became my heartbeat..
And finally…
after a year in the wilderness…
I emerged from my room..
ready to face my giants…
…
of the 90’s…
…
…
…
First song i ever learned on guitar 👇
I had many songs embedded in this story.. but it was causing it to load super slow.. so I deleted most of them…
My Friend Joey’Me`
Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.. and saves those who are crushed in spirit…”
For most of my life.. I’ve been strong and healthy.. Then about a year and a half ago.. my health crashed hard.. This past year has been rough… sickness.. weakness.. doctors searching for answers — but lately I’ve been getting stronger day by day..
Six months ago.. things hit the worst point..
I was deathly sick and went to the ER.. They ran tests.. Two doctors walked in with that look on their faces — the look that says everything before a word is spoken..
“We think it’s cancer.”
They told me there were spots on my pancreas… liver… kidneys… and when something shows up on multiple organs.. red flags go up immediately.. doctors assume the worst.. To them.. it looked like cancer that had already spread..
But me? I was calm..
Not because I’m fearless — but because I had a promise from above that I’d live a long life.. I knew it wasn’t my time.. And I also knew they can’t call anything “cancer” until a biopsy confirms it.. honestly.. even if it were cancer.. I’d still react calmly.. because I’m ready to go home whenever…
I was admitted to the hospital.. and while I waited for results.. everyone — doctors.. nurses.. all treated me like it was cancer.. even my patient chart said it’s cancer.. cancer.. cancer.. cancer… everywhere cancer… One nurse introduced me to another by saying….
“This is Bryan… he has pancreatic cancer.”
I looked up and said.. “No ma’am.. I don’t have cancer.. And the tests results aren’t even back yet…”
Everybody around me braced for the worst.. I held on to faith… I wasn’t signing my name on something that didn’t belong to me…
Not today. Not ever.
“Don’t put that evil on me.. Ricky Bobby..” I joked……….. (They tried to curse me — I wasn’t having it 😄…)
And then the results came in..
Everything was benign… No cancer… Doctors scratching their heads because they were almost certain… Me smiling.. because I already knew..
God kept His word to me. And I’m still here — living.. growing.. healing.. getting stronger every day..
If you’re facing something scary.. remember this.. Doctors have knowledge.. God has the final say……
And He’s not done with me yet.
Also… if you’re reading this….. He’s not done with you either…..
I want to take a moment to explain what I’m doing here on this blog…
First and above all… I love Jesus — 110%… But I also used to be lost.. and I never want to forget that.. My past lets me relate to anyone who shows up here.. Everything I’ve walked through — the struggles.. the mistakes.. the victories.. the faith — it all shaped who I am today…
And I’ve decided I’m not hiding any of it..
This blog is going to show all of me..
who I was…
who I am now…
and who I’m becoming…
I’m going to pour it out and not hold back..
My ministry is BryanForChrist.. and it reaches far beyond one place.. It includes..
my YouTube channel…
my Grow account…
my WhatsApp ministry…
my mission work in the Philippines.. Singapore.. Argentina.. and now Uganda..
and my ongoing connections with churches and ministries across Florida..
And now here also…
There’s a lot happening — but it all comes down to one mission… reaching people who need hope… listening to them… talking to them… loving them… all of them…
I’m going to do that by being myself… My secular side.. my life side.. my faith side.. my Christian heart — it all lives here together…..
So this blog is different.. than my other things going on.. I feel this is my angle of approach.. unique to here…
And trust me…
it’s going to work… I hope 😄… nah just kidding… it will be fine… 😁… regardless though… It will be me… 😎…..,t`¡-<³… ☝️
Heart of Loia `'.,°~ 