I'm a cop. My feet have been laced in work boots for seven years now. When I first arrived to the streets I hadn't the slightest idea of the brute realities of this world, of this people, of this life. More than that, I hadn't the slightest idea that those realities would become my realities.
It's isolating, this law enforcement life. Knowing so much of the world no one else knows about. My lifeline became writing. When I write, I hear my Hope louder than the chaos. My Jesus whispers over and over it is safe to hope even in a deeply troubled world because He has overcome it.
So here it is. A place to hold the "sorrowful yet always rejoicing" grind and grit, through snapshots, written words, poems, story telling; most inspired by, and drawn from the people of this city. My realities. Real Life. Real Experiences.
There are things that may grind against your heart, let it. I gently encourage you to stay there for a moment.
There are no villains within the words I've written here in this place, and I am no hero either. There is One Hero in this story and anything good that would come from my hands or work is Him. My hope is that this place will stretch your believing eyes past the seen to the unseen and widen your grasp of beauty.
Our faith is rich like gold. And I want to illustrate this with tired hands, writing words spoken; and footprints still being made in this world.
Amidst all the groans, I still hope because I believe what is withering away will be swallowed up by Life (2 Cor 5:4).