I recall being locked out. My stepfather was throwing in the towel, and my mother was miles and miles away, working as a revenue consultant. She had reached a new level in her career, bringing in six grand a month.
Me and my stepfather clashed. We clashed so much that I hated him. The beatings were tough. The mind disciplines were hell.
But something about that experience and final straw was divine.
It was the start to being a man, and having total freedom.
He was saying, after 18 years of being a father to a child that isn’t biologically mine, I want you to go out there and endure life, I have prepared you.
It was subtle.
It was painful.
I was homeless.
I am mad at God.
God, I asked, why!
I am too young for this pressure.
Excuses, and weakness.
It still didn’t change the fact I was homeless.
I was walking and lost. By the grace of God, a friend from high-school saw me walking aimlessly in a neighborhood that is very big. Nothing but acres of trees and houses. Nearby to the town of the great Jim Thorpe memorial. My hero.
It’s at least 1am in the morning.
I am curious, what he was doing at this time, but it didn’t matter. I just needed a place to lay my head at night and figure out what to do next.
I told him my situation.
“Bro, your pops is bugging.”
Sadly I say, “I know.”
But deep inside, I knew. It was just the time to embark on my hero’s journey.
“The Hero’s journey” is a concept by Joseph Cambell. Deep philosophical stuff…