Tag: Life Lessons

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Too Aware to Play Along

Describe something you learned in high school.

There are a lot of people I know
who say high school was a waste of time…

—and I get it.

For some…
especially artists and musicians…
it never felt like a place
that knew what to do
with a fire inside—

more about obedience…
than imagination…

But for me—
it was different.

Those four years gave me something real…

I had free chorus… music classes…
adding even more
to the years I already lived in—

that’s where it happened—
I discovered my love
for writing…
for literature.

English—
that was probably my favorite…

History came close—
science right behind it…

Math…?

I could do it… sure—
but I never felt it.

I understood it—
just never connected to it.

Sports gave me another kind of education—
one built on sweat…
pressure…
timing…
and skill you had to prove…

The social side though…
I could’ve done without that.

It was the usual divide…
the cool kids…
then everyone else…

—and me…

somewhere in between…
too aware to play along—

But the teachers—
they mattered.

I had real connections there…

My building construction teacher…
he was one of the guys…

Sometimes we’d sneak behind the shed—
smoke a cigarette…
talk about life…

Other days—
we’d all jump him…
wrestle him to the ground…
leave him covered in dirt…
shirt torn up…

He’d walk into the teacher’s lounge
looking like he survived a tornado…

trying to explain what happened…

Man… we loved that guy.

But my English teacher—

she changed everything.

She introduced me to Julius Caesar…
my first taste of Shakespeare…

Lighting a path to more great literature…

And then there was music class—

where I learned something
I still tote today…

The power… of the rest.

Silence—

In music…
what isn’t played…
can speak louder
than what is.

Same with writing… 😎

So yeah…

I gained a lot from that place.

Funny thing—

earlier today…
before I even saw this prompt…

I was listening to the John Mayer Trio…
reading interviews with John…

—and in one of them he said…

“I knew school never did anything for me…
it never made sense…
I knew at 13 what I wanted—
to be a musician.”

And yeah…
I get that too.

But thinking about it…

…

school did do something for him.

…

it showed him
what he refused to let go of.

…

…

And that’s the lesson— 😎

…

…

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines.

But something’s better
On the other side.

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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OutKasted — Then Gone With The Wind — Atlanta Nights

There was a bar on the Southside of Atlanta—
named after Scarlett O’Hara.

A name that still means something—here.

The owner was a big fan of the movie—
you could feel it in the name… the vibe… the whole place.

A fiery, drunken piece of history.

Like it had been there longer than it hadn’t.

Margaret Mitchell still lived in the bones of that place.
Her city.
Her story.
Her shadow.

And in the mid 90’s.

O’Hara’s was the spot.

Packed most nights—
the kind of place that had its own pull.

Lights low
Laughs loud
Song and dance soaked in whiskey—
beer… and sweet drinks of every color.

A place where stories were made—
not told.
This one included.

Me and two of my good buddies—
grew up together…
went to school together—
now doing grown man stuff together.

We spent most weekends here.

But there was this guy…
his mind was set—
he wanted trouble with my boy…
and he just wasn’t gonna quit.

All night—
on us…
pressing…
running his mouth.

Alright though…
was just words.

We left it alone…
stayed cool…
tried to anyway.

I even tried to squash it—
real calm… real respectful.

To him… that was weak.

And some… they read silence wrong.

On our way to the car…
it wasn’t looking good…

dude right behind us.

Words turned into steps—
steps about to turn to hands.

I knew what was coming…

and yep… he did it—
put his hands on my friend.

I was hoping—for him—he’d choose bigger.

That was all I needed.

I locked on him—

threw him over the hood—

let my hands go.

Fast.
Clean.
Final.

And just like that—
it was done.

He slid off the hood…
out cold.

I didn’t leave him—
I don’t roll like that.

We picked him up—
got him off the pavement…
laid him in the grass—
made sure he was alright.

Checked his breathing…
made sure he was with us.

Then we went back in—
let the people working there know what happened.

Stayed put till he came to.

…

But just between you and me…

…

frankly…

back then…

…

I just didn’t give a damn.

…

Then…
we were gone—

…

with the wind.

…

The Original Eminem… Atlantas Own… Margaret Mitchell
Rear view of the MM house from Crescent Avenue

You can plan a pretty picnic…

but you can’t predict the weather.

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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My Parents… The Strangest Love I’ve Ever Seen

I’ve been texting with a friend all day…
in between living life…

We got on the topic of this life of mine…
and somehow… my parents came up.

After telling him some things…
I started thinking…

Man… my mom and dad are strange.
Not them as people…
their relationship.

It’s just… different.

They’ve known each other forever… all their lives…

I mean since they were little bitty kids.
I believe… since babies.

They lived next door to each other.
Their families were close.
Friends… neighbors…

They grew up side by side.

Playmates…
then boyfriend and girlfriend as kids…
carried it through elementary school…
into high school…

They were in love.

They got married.
Planned to have me…

Succeeded 😎

I was born… started spinning around this earth… like everyone else.

…

Then when I was 5…
they got divorced.

Just like that.

It wasn’t some huge dramatic thing either…

they were just bored.

Like they realized
they were all each other had ever known…
thought they were missing something out there.

So they walked away.

…

Not long after…

they both met other people.
Quick.

Got married again.
Both of them.

Both of those marriages…
were disasters.

Five… six years later…
both divorced again.

…

But here’s the part that always got me…

through all of it…

they stayed close.

I mean really close.

Always together.

They’d hang out…
go to movies…
go shopping…
even take trips together.

Like… what?

It was like they were married…
but weren’t.

They got along better than most married couples I’ve ever seen.

…

Then one day… when I was 24…

they told me they needed to talk.

Both of them.

Sat me down in the living room…

real serious.

And I’m thinking…

Alright… what is this?
Who’s sick?
Is it cancer?
Who died?
What’s going on?

They’ve never done this like this before.

…

So they ask me…

“How would you feel…
if we got married again?”

…

“Sure! I’m all for it!
I want yall happy!”

“So who’s the lucky man and woman?
Double wedding or something?”

…

Nah…
Not even close.
Bruh…
They meant each other.
Again.

…

Now you’d think I’d be happy, right?

That’s my mom and dad.

But honestly?

It was weird.

Most of my life…
they were just friends.

They had been married to other people…
dated other people…

but somehow always stayed close.

…

So I gave them my blessing.

Even though it felt strange.

…

First time I saw them kiss…
it creeped me out… 😁

…

So they got married.

Bought a big house.

…

Within about six months…

everything started falling apart.

Arguing all the time.
Couldn’t get along.

I remember thinking—

What happened?

Where did that friendship go…
the one I watched my whole life?

…

They stayed married another ten years.

Barely speaking.
Sleeping in different rooms.

Both… unhappy.

…

Then they divorced.

Again.

…

Not long after that…

they became best friends.

Again.

…

Now I just have to laugh.

Like… you’ve got to be kidding me.

…

But I will say this—

I’ve learned a lot about love from them.

What to do…
what not to do…

…

One thing I know for sure…

When it comes to love…

I’m nothing like them.

…

And if I didn’t look like both of them…

…

I’d swear I was adopted.

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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Some Men Say It… Some Men Live It

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

This is Pastor Wendell Wilson…
he discipled me.

I met him in June of 2o08…
and ended up living with him for about five years.

He ran a Christian rehab for men down in Florida…
and after I finished the program…
he asked me to stay on…

become his resident director.

So I did.

I served there for four years…

and somewhere in all that time…
he became more than a pastor to me…

he became a father.

He was one of a kind…
a remarkable man.

I could tell you story after great story…
so many memories…

but what stands out most…

is how he lived…

How he loved people…

I’ve never met anyone who genuinely loved others like he did…

And the way he spoke to you…

man… he had a way with words. He backed them up too.

He would say things to you…
right in the moment…
exactly when you needed to hear it most.

One profound thing he told me that never left…

“Son… people would rather see a sermon any day… than hear one.”

That stuck like Chuck with me.

I still carry it.

Because as powerful as words can be…
they don’t mean much without something behind them.

I can say the most beautiful things…
turn your stupid heart to jello…

but at some point…

I need to shut my mouth…
and be about it.

Show you.

Let you see it.

Because I’d rather see something real…
than hear something perfect.

No matter how well penned it is…
it’s empty…
it has to be lived…
it’s just beautifully nothing…

I’d rather see things clearly…
and say things simply…

let action… with feeling… be the real pen…

…

Pastor Wendell passed away at his home in 2o16…
surrounded by friends and family…

and it was beautifully real… to see.

…,’…,’…t

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson | bryanforchrist | All rights reserved

`’.,°~

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When Life Gets Thick…

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

When life gets thick…
grab a pogostick…

If your road feels stifled—

try a unicycle…

🤷‍♂️

(Λſʞ) ㄣ–ᄅ:Ɩ sǝɯɐſ

˙ƃuᴉɥʇou ƃuᴉʇuɐʍ ‘ǝɹᴉʇuǝ puɐ ʇɔǝɟɹǝd ǝq ʎɐɯ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ‘ʞɹoʍ ʇɔǝɟɹǝd ɹǝɥ ǝʌɐɥ ǝɔuǝᴉʇɐd ʇǝ˥ ʇnq 
˙ǝɔuǝᴉʇɐd ɥʇǝʞɹoʍ ɥʇᴉɐɟ ɹnoʎ ɟo ƃuᴉʎɹʇ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʇ ‘sᴉɥʇ ƃuᴉʍouʞ 
˙suoᴉʇɐʇdɯǝʇ sɹǝʌᴉp oʇuᴉ llɐɟ ǝʎ uǝɥʍ ʎoɾ llɐ ʇᴉ ʇunoɔ ‘uǝɹɥʇǝɹq ʎW

© 2026 bryanforchrist | All rights reserved

`’.,°~

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Winners and Losers

The Field That Raised Me…

What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

Sports have always been a huge part of my life. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember. I come from a long line of athletes. My grandfather even had an opportunity to pitch for the Detroit Tigers, but he chose to serve in World War II instead. My father was a great athlete too, and he was also my coach growing up, teaching me the game—and a lot about life—along the way…

I love a lot of sports, but my two main ones are American football and baseball. I played Little League all through my childhood and into my teens. I didn’t just throw on a uniform and participate—I excelled. I was a star, haha. I’m normally pretty humble, but I want to be accurate here so you can feel what I’m putting down 😅 I was mainly a pitcher, but in between starts I played shortstop and left field, doing whatever my team needed… I also hit for power and average.

In little league.. I once made an insane diving catch in left field to win the game… the crowd went nuts… bum-rushed me and carried me off the field on their shoulders cheering haha…

Sports were where I learned who I was when things got hard…

I kept it going into junior high and high school, playing both baseball and football. On the football field I lined up at quarterback, wide receiver, and at cornerback on defense, and I excelled there too. The dream was always to try and go pro in baseball, but along the way I got pulled into the music scene and ended up chasing that route instead. Even then, I never really left sports behind. I kept playing, jumping into league softball over the years and staying connected to the game any way I could.

As far as watching sports, my heart stays close to home. I love the Atlanta Braves and Falcons, and when it comes to college football, I’m a huge Georgia fan—Go Dawgs! Major League Baseball, the NFL, and college football are my mainstays, but I also enjoy basketball and golf, both playing and watching. Sports have always been more than just games to me. I’m thankful I grew up the way I did, grateful for the chance to play, I miss them days…

…….⚾🏈→🧠→💪→⛈️→†→’…….o8o→||→{me}→~⛈~→|†|→’ …….⚾🏈…….“`💥→🧱→|†|→’…….⚾+🏈→|me|→⛈️→’

My first year in little league… im holding the bat wrong in this pic.. my hands are opposite how they should be lol

1 Corinthians 9:24–26 (NIV)

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize… Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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Almost

Two Lottery Stories

What would you do if you won the lottery?

I’ve got two lottery stories. Here’s the first—one that’s stuck with me for years.

Back when I used to work delivering top-grade fruits and vegetables to restaurants all over Atlanta, one of the guys I worked with told me this story about his aunt and uncle up in Michigan. They were the kind of folks who played the lottery religiously—same numbers every week, knew them by heart. His uncle worked construction, his aunt stayed home.

One day, the uncle was on the job, radio on in the background, when the lottery numbers came up. One by one, he heard them read off… and they were his numbers. Every single one. He stood there frozen, trying to grasp it—he was a millionaire, just like that. He felt like Jed Clampett, like George Jefferson—about to “move on up,” as they say. He couldn’t believe it—after all that time, the numbers finally hit.

Trembling, he grabbed his phone and called home. His wife answered. He could barely get the words out—“Honey, we won. We won!” You can imagine that rush of joy, disbelief, tears, laughter—the whole spectrum of emotions hitting at once.

When they finally calmed down, he asked her, “Where’s the ticket?”

Silence.

She didn’t know. Couldn’t remember. They searched every corner of that house—you name it: drawers, kitchen counters, coat pockets, even the trash—but the ticket was gone.

Never turned up.

It was a multimillion jackpot—ten million or more, my coworker said. They never recovered from it. They ended up divorcing. He drank himself into an early grave; she lost her mind and eventually wound up in a mental hospital.

I’ll never forget that story. They were just one missing ticket away from a whole new life. Makes you realize how thin the line is between winning big and losing everything…

…

…

The second story’s a little different—it’s about the strange brush I had with the lottery once.

I don’t normally play. Honestly, it had probably been ten years since the last time I bought a ticket. But one day, these numbers just popped into my head out of nowhere. They felt… random, but not really. So I scribbled them down and thought, why not? Maybe I’m supposed to play these.

That evening, I bought a ticket for the Fantasy Five drawing. Later that night, I sat down in front of the TV, ticket in hand, heart doing that nervous little dance while I waited for the numbers to roll out.

The first one—bam. I had it.
The second—got it.
The third—hit again.
The fourth—yes! Four in a row.

Now it all came down to the last number. If it hit, I’d be holding a ticket worth half a million dollars. I was right there on the edge of my seat, waiting… the winning number flashed on the screen—29.

I looked down. Mine said 30.

Missed it by one digit. Just one.

Still, four out of five wasn’t bad—I got a hundred bucks out of it. Not life-changing, but it sure made for a good story.

Funny how luck works, isn’t it? One number can mean the difference between a payday and just another story before bed…

So I guess if there’s any moral here, it’s this—don’t store your hopes and dreams in things that can be lost…
store them where they’re eternal —
that’s where the true jackpot is waiting…

As for me… I don’t believe in luck or chance.

…….🚫💰🏃‍♂️🌍…⏳🕯️…👋🪦🚫🧳…🚘⚰️🚫🧳🧺…✅💎⬆️☁️✝️…♾️✨…….—/—$→🌍…⏳…→∅…⚰→∅…→↑†…∞’…….🚫$→🌍…⏳…⚰️→🚫🧳…“no hearse w/ luggage rack”.🤷‍♂️..↑†☁️…💎→♾️’…….—/—$→🌍…⏳🕯️…⚰️→∅…↑†☁️…💎♾️…….<3†’

Matthew 13:44 (NIV)
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field…”

© 2026 bryanforchrist. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~                          …..t

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Saltwater and Second Chances

The Day Me and My Friend Almost Drowned…

It was the summer of 1996…
I had it all figured out—
  until I didn’t…
I thought I could—
  until I couldn’t…

Life shows up at times…
 and will straight wreck your ship—
it’s a beast…
 a leviathan…

You can’t just ebb with the tide…
 if you don’t lead it—
  it will lure you…

Drowning is not an option…
Swim like your life depends on it—
  because it does…

Me…
my friend Terrell…
and his girlfriend Helen
decided to go to Panama City.. Florida
for the weekend…

It was about a six hour drive from Atlanta…
I was really spontaneous back then—
 so were my friends…

We would do crazy stuff on a whim…
 without thinking much about it…
it was Helen’s idea—
 T and me just looked at each other
  and smiled…

Within half an hour…
we were in the car and on the road—
 the highway was our runway…
 we didn’t have a flight plan…

After watching my life race by
like highway lines…
for what felt like eternity—
we finally made it…

That’s a notorious drive…
 it always feels double the time it takes…

So we found our rooms…
 chilled for a short time…
bought beer—
 and headed to the beach…

I didn’t know this but
T brought a funnel…
and he knew I had never done it before—
 so I tried it…
  about choked myself…

No bro…
it’s cool…
thanks anyway…

I like to actually taste
and enjoy a beer—
not shoot it like a rocket…
Down my throat…
to my brain
and insides…

So after a day of brutal heat
and alcohol…
I could hear the Gulf
calling my name—

Deep calls to deep…
 like a favorite song…

The two of us traded
the safety of the sand…
 for liquid turquoise…
oh.. how good it felt
on my body…

Such a beautiful and strange thing—
 is water…
It gives life…
 it can take it too…

We both were excellent swimmers…
 loved it so…
spent a lot of time in the water together—
 we ventured out pretty far…

I started to get a little tired…
Told T we should head back to shore—
 he agreed…
I could tell he was tiring too…

We hit a sandbar…
finally able to stand…
feel the bottom again…

I could feel the alcohol
hitting me more…
 creeping up on me…
  my head was spinning…

As I was bobbing…
 fighting waves…
an undercurrent picked up slightly—
 pulled us off the sandbar…

We could no longer stand…
It was back to treading…

T wasn’t looking good—
 he had way too much to drink…
This was a bad idea…
 things were about to get real…

Suddenly—
we were like two kites
with broken strings…

He started to struggle hard…
 fell below the surface…
  then up again…
   then down once more…

Oh no…
 oh no…

He cried out for me—
 help me…
  then he went under…

I went down after him…
with what strength I had left—
 got him back up…

But he was in survival mode…
 total panic…

He clung to me—
 I couldn’t move
  my arms
  or legs…

Next thing I know…
I was under water…
 he was on top of me…

Stepping all over me—
 his feet pushing me further down
as he fought for his life…
 to stay afloat…

I sank below…

Under water…
 out of strength…
  out of breath…
   far from home…

Fear spun over me
like a dreaded whirlwind—

I thought about the ones I loved…
 my life…
  how I should have done better…

I tried to fight some more—
 but I just had nothing left…
  zero breath…

I noticed the sun above…
 its beams shooting through the water
  all around me…

The fear left…
I was ok now…

I said a prayer…
 then from beneath the ocean…
  I said my goodbyes…

I gave up and breathed in saltwater…

Then—
unexpectedly…

I felt sand under my feet…
With new-found strength—
 I pushed off and up…

My head shot above water…
I found myself again
on the elusive sandbar…

I instantly started coughing…
 spitting out water from my lungs…

I breathed in—
 it was air this time…

I slowly walked
the narrow sandbar
back to shallower water…

I made it back to the beach…

My waterlogged body—
 collapsing…
  surrendering to sleep…

Later that evening…
close to sunset…

I woke…
 I remembered…
  I was so thankful…
   grateful…
    happy to be alive…

But oh my Lord—
 where was T…
  was he ok…

Then—
down the beach…

I saw him
and Helen…

The same thing had happened to him…
He somehow made it to shore…
 passed out…
  and slept…

He had just woken up
the same time I did…

This was all just so unreal…
How blessed
and fortunate
we were to have made it out…

I learned major lessons that day…
 I’m always learning stuff…

…

My friend T survived the ocean that day…
Only to be shot and killed years later—

Murdered…
 gunned down…
  in cold blood…

Like he was nothing…

over nothing…

He made it out of the water…
 but not the world…

And I’m still out here…

trying to make sense
  of the waves

…

that never stop coming…

Psalm 42:7 (NIV)


“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls…
all your waves and breakers have swept over me…”

© 2026 Bryan H. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

Posted on

Little Grown-Ups…

my life as a Gen X kid…

This song has the “F” word in it… only once… in one line… so you may not want to listen… if it may offend you… 👇

I was born in September of  73`… a Gen X kid…
when I look back now… I realize things…


Yeah maybe I was doing stuff early on that probably could have waited until I was an adult…


but life was different back then…


the world was wider… lighter… rawer… simpler… all at once…


And us kids…


we were all little grown-ups…

From the time I was about eight until I was fourteen…


life couldn’t have been much better…


I grew up in a fairly large community of side by side houses… side by side families…
where everybody knew everybody…
neighbors didn’t just nod — they shared life…
they borrowed sugar…
they brought each other meals…
they sat in yards and talked about real things…
hearts… stories… struggles… faith… loss… laughter…


It wasn’t perfect —
but man… it was real…

My great-grandfather lived with us in those days…


he was one of a kind…


old as dirt… tougher than leather… stubborn as wet cement…


he had lived much…
And he never ran out of stories…


He’d sit outside every day… in this beat up old folding chair…


And half the time.. I’d pull another chair beside him… and just listen…


He was a war veteran — A Purple Heart… other medals he earned through blood and grit…


Infantry…
France…
WW2…


he’d tell me stories of laughing under fire… marching… waiting… freezing… fighting… barely surviving…


And I’d pepper him with a thousand questions… because I couldn’t get enough…

Later.. I found out from my grandmother…
that he had taken many lives in battle…
those stories… he never told…
those belonged to him… and God alone…


What I did see…
was a man who had walked through hell…


And somehow came back kinder…
tougher…


And still able to laugh a little…
And love a lot…


And without making speeches…
without preaching a word…


he was shaping the boy sitting beside him…

In those days…
my parents worked…


so most times I had to fend for myself…


I had a house key… freedom… responsibility…


but there were rules…


Do the right thing when nobody is watching…


Be  about character…
Be about integrity…

Be about it…

Be a decent human being…


And oh yeah…
be home by dark…

On the edge of our community…
the world exploded into a massive forest
deep woods stretching for miles…
thousands of acres…
trees… creeks… hidden lakes… trails… wildlife…


a giant playground for kids who hadn’t yet learned to be afraid of living…


I spent countless days exploring those woods…


fishing…
riding dirt bikes…
shooting guns…


no supervision… no phones… just trust…


Sometimes on Saturdays I’d wake up before the sun…
pack myself a sack lunch and some drinks…
grab my fishing poles and tackle box…
strap it all to the back of my dirt bike…
And disappear into the woods…

All… day… long…


Sometimes friends came along…
sometimes it was just me and the world —
And honestly… those were some of the best days…


Many mornings my great-grandfather would stop me before I left…
hand me his old .22 pistol in a worn leather holster…
And tell me to take it “for protection”…
because us kids needed guns back then haha…
we learned early… how to treat and respect a firearm…
it was a great privilege… responsibility… And it was ours…

I’d strap it to my waist like a cowboy…
fire up that dirt bike…
And ride off into the blue…


Freedom…
Adventure…
Responsibility…
Trust…

A childhood that felt like life training…


And I am grateful… deeply grateful…


Those years shaped me…
they toughened me…
they softened me…
they taught me courage… solitude… resourcefulness… respect… curiosity… wonder… independence…

I didn’t know it then…


but those were Holy days…


And I am thankful I grew up when I did…


in a world… full… of little grown-ups…

`’x.~¡-^;‐

Also… my great-grandfather’s middle name and mine… are the same… Loia… pronounced Loy like Joy…

I forgot to mention my dog… Buck… he was there too… he didn’t live inside a fence… he never knew a leash… he was free to roam… just like me… he followed me everywhere… he loved to swim… while I fished…

I’m the blood on your guitar… I’m that wave You caught back in 1975…

…

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

`’.,°~

Posted on

Late Night Confession `.•~

Tell us about your first day at something…

This is about a first day — just not the kind most people mean…

“I lost my innocence early in life… and I continued down that road for many years…
It was nobody’s fault… life will just show up on you…
Some lessons are hard learned in repetition…
And actually… I believe I’m thankful for it…
because it taught me… with beauty… just how special things can be…
differences… in what happens… and what is supposed…”

…¹4³….~[]~→†→/\/\/→| |→~…~→→→’….._::_→\_/→—-→/→/→/→’….< >→←| |→~~’ `.•~ 🏍-¡- -¡°…`

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved