This is crazy shit…

Compulsive hoarding

pathological hoarding

disposophobia

Call it what you want, it is the selfish acquisition of possessions (and failure to use or discard them) in excess of socially normative amounts, even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. Compulsive hoarding may impair mobility and interfere with basic activities, including cooking, cleaning, hygiene, sanitation, and sleeping.

It is not clear whether compulsive hoarding is an isolated disorder, or rather a symptom of another condition, such as obsessive-compulsive disorder.

(These paragraphs are from the Wikipedia page for Compulsive hoarding. Check it all out here.)

On December 14, 1981, a healthy little Steven James Hardin—me—was born as the fourth child to John & Terri Hardin in Oregon City, OR. Unexpectedly I was born with a mild case of freeman sheldon syndrome. At first it was kind of freaky for my family ’cause they didn’t know what it was or what my symptoms meant, but after a week or so, all was on a good track. It’s an über rare congenital illness that effects bone structure and muscle tissue in various ways and to varying degrees (from case to case). Literally I’m one in a million (or more). Beat that!

BTW, even in writing this paragraph I’m laughing at how much more mystery I’m creating in your mind than understanding. The beauty of my situation, is that I don’t have any health issues at all, just funky structure. I guess other than being thin, short, having a crooked back and some sorta wonky hands, I’m… (name this movie)

Fit as a fiddle and ready for love.

I can jump over the moon up above.

Fit as a fiddle and ready for love!

I haven’t a worry, I haven’t a care,

I feel like a feather that’s floating on air,

…

It’s hard to describe or even know how it actually effects other people and their perception of me. Most people stare for a while, or ask if I need special treatment. Usually I can get away paying the handicap fare instead of the adult fee on the bus of Ferry. (Score 1 for STEVE.)

From MY two eyes I look out and see the same world and think the same thoughts and live the same life as everyone else. In fact I doubtless live a better life than many. Similar to being short or tall or skinny or fat, it has shaped my personality in many ways, but, all things considered, it has clearly been a boon rather than a bane. I’m more confident and free than most people will ever be.

by “STEVE”

To whom it may concern—I have missed you too…

THE STORY:

While this might sound selfish or contrary to our calling to ‘deny ourselves’, in recent months I have been stepping back a bit from the many overlapping communities I find myself in-between, and reducing the amount of myself I pour into these friends and comrades. Space, for a time, will hopefully allow me and ‘you’ to each take our own social paths in life according to our needs and hearts.

“There but for the Grace of God, go I.”

By the power of His word and the stirring of The Spirit, I am starting to reach out, care for people… and miss friends again. But I, like all, need others to reach out to me at times too. And the lack of such effort by many whom I deemed to be close has exhausted me thoroughly. 

THE REALITY:

I pray in THIS confidence: “when I am weak, He is strong.”
Sadly, I justify the discontinuation of friendships, the ignoring of opportunities to love my neighbor, the seeking of ease instead of holiness, by legitimizing my selfish desire for personal care from all else in the world BUT Christ. 

Lord almighty, call me back to you. Like Peter, might I FIRST: lean on your breast for comfort; call on your name for strength; read your word daily for wisdom.

Jesus, grant me more faith.

by “STEVE”

Live like a child.
Pray like a child.
Eat a hot dog…
like a child.

Sweet joy was envisioned this morning as I watched my friend’s 3-year-old son dancing to the songs, whilst I played drums at church this morning, (they were sitting right up front.) I had been forgetting–a bit too much–the Joy that is Jesus. So often I loose it and my life becomes flat and boring. What a lame way to live!
by “STEVE”

This winter I’ve been tackling the question of “what kind of artist am I” and subsequently “what kinds of artist are there in general?” I’m still working on the answers, but one thing I have come to realize is that I simply have to express myself and my opinions and revelations. Often this is in the form of Creative Works. But for STEVE, it also often comes in the form of verbal conversation.

It’s the basic creative process of old—first observe. Then articulate what you observe.

“A wise man holds his tongue” so that when he speaks—or creates—they are words bathed in the sweet waters of truth.

As I reflect back on Easter and the almighty work of The Father and His Son Jesus, I find peace despite my regular falling into folly.

Christ is the ultimate wise man who speaks words of pure truth in only the perfect moments.

by “STEVE”

I hope you didn’t think I was ever angry at you—I wasn’t. I would have been if I had liked you simply for my own satisfaction. But the truth was that our relationship was birthed from my like of you and who you were and who you wanted to be … and how you wanted to work your way there with meaning and purpose.

I say all this in hopes of removing from your mind any straggling bits of worry or concern that I was angry at you for separating us. Sad? Yes. Bitter? No.

Hope this helps and finds you well in the care of our Savior. :-)

“STEVE”