Saying goodbye to yesterday

It was difficult not to cry.

The house bore signs of our life: screws that once held frames on almost every wall, slight discolorations at the perfect height of children hands on corners, traffic patterns worn in the carpet from folks too lazy to remove their shoes (me), small holes in screens where toys learned how to fly, wood floors scratched in a frenzy of fun, murals lovingly painted on bedroom walls... every where there were memories.

I was about to close the door for the last time. The key was on the island, the floors were swept and vacuumed, the counters washed. All I needed to do was turn around and walk out. But I couldn't, something held me there, memories flooding through my mind at a hundred miles an hour. The Christmases with our fresh cut trees (the mark on the ceiling because one was too tall:)), The rumpus wrestling matches with two small children being thrown onto every soft surface in the house, the jelly bean trails winding down stairs on Easter mornings, the gas fireplace where many a romantic night unfolded, the Thanksgiving turkeys being pulled from the stove, the aroma drawing all hungry bellies to the Kitchen. This was the home where my daughter learned to walk, where both my children learned to ride bikes, where trees were climbed and where the backyard play set was daily called upon to fulfill its duty. So many rich memories, the kind that are burned into your heart and not just your mind, the kind that are unanimously shared by every individual in the family, the kind that you lovingly recall until the end of your days.

It was not just a house I was about to shut the door on, it was a home. I was about to close a significant chapter in my life and I hesitated. The intensity of what I was leaving behind struck me with the weight of a thousand moments in time. "I must be crazy", I thought. Who, in their right mind, would let go of the perfect life, spend every dime they had to go to a non-credentialed ministry school, rip their family from most of what they hold near and dear, quit their well paying job with great benefits and a promising future, sell off tons of memories in a moving sale, and move into their parents basement for the summer... I'm sure I'm missing some of the, "You must be crazy" details, fill them in if you like. And why am I doing all of this? Why am I uprooting us so violently and quickly? I like catastrophic change of course... simple really.

The only other thing I have done that was this crazy and  ill conspired was marrying Jessica. I barely knew her when I took her hand in marriage. From the day we first met (Nov. 4th) it was about three months to when we decided to get engaged, and six months from then we were married. THREE MONTHS FOLKS! But hey, that has worked out really well! So this next crazy step will too... right?

The answer to the end of the paragraph before the previous one has everything to do with the God factor. But it's hard to separate the Justin factor from it. "Why am I doing this?". It is partly selfish, partly spiritual. Here goes the in depth description that many of you are waiting for with baited breath (said sarcastically).

I have chosen to be discontent for the last ten years. Even though God has given me everything a man can ask for: a wife who loves me despite my many flaws, children that cause my heart to sing, many dear friends and family, a great job and at one point a great house. I have been caught up in believing that at any moment God would open a magical door and I would be transported away to a  life of unprecedented meaning and fulfilling full time ministry. I wasted ten years being anxious for the future. I was never content with where I was at because I constantly believed God had a better purpose for me. WHAT A BLIND AND STUPID MAN I HAVE BEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If there is one massive regret in my life this is it. That it has taken me ten years to realize what I had all along. Why wasn't I content in waiting for what God had told me He would give me? Why couldn't I simply have faith that this was all part of it. Abraham impresses me more than ever now that I have barely tasted what he endured. Oh to have simple faith.

Does every young man waste his life like this, or am I an anomaly. Don't get me wrong, I loved my family, friends and home deeply, but there has always been a self initiated undercurrent of discontentment. Feeling that there is something more and I am somehow missing it... all along it has been there.

I just saw Toy Story 3 yesterday night and it was profound. When Andy and his mother were standing in his empty room, she was immediately overwhelmed with the realization that it was over. 17 years of life come and gone, and now her baby boy was leaving. That room would no longer be filled with the footsteps and noises of her beloved son. There wouldn't be toys to put away or laundry to clean up. No brother and sister squabbles spilling through the house. No rudimentary paintings or drawings with precious signatures to tape to the walls. I cried.

I don't want to waste another ten years anxiously waiting for something better. I want to make the most of here and now. It's really all I have, all that is important. We really don't know what the next day holds.

I have been horribly selfish in that I dragged my family through emotional highs and lows with every opportunity to minister that came along my path. One day it was a children pastor job offer at this church, the next it was the same offer at another church, the next it was a small business all my own, the next was West Papua, New Guinea (look that place up... you'll probably think I was mad just for considering it)... the list goes on. I wanted it so bad that I entertained every possibility and with each, the idea of moving and uprooting our lives. My poor wife could never feel comfortably rooted because her husband always kept her in a place of wonder (and probably bewilderment). That is no way to live your life... please learn from my mistake. I continually tried to orchestrate my future. If only I had realized I am not the conductor. I just need to learn to listen and watch. Hopefully this time around I will be less selfish. Although, dragging your family to California to live on the cheap while you attend school sounds a touch selfish, it is also quite spiritual... but I've run out of steam and don't feel like explaining.

I believe I am headed in the direction God has for me, and that I have learned an extraordinary lesson as of late.

Good bye beautiful Lima:(

 Here's to the next chapter. Here's to the new adventure.

I like travelling:)

So it is confirmed. By a stroke of genius we are going to California in late August. On Monday, during my interview, the school told me they wouldn't have an answer for 4 - 6 weeks, there was an excess of applicants and I may have to go onto a waiting list in hopes some accepted students would decide not to go. The anticipation left a knot the size of the Titanic, with the heaviness to boot. I dreaded having to wait. What am I going to do with all my junk!!!! We are moving out of our house in less than 3 weeks!!! If we are going to Cali we will sell almost everything, if we are staying local we keep it. Here's where the story takes a God spin.

On Wednesday (2 days after my interview) one of our sub-contractors, who I have known for about 7 years (he's a good friend), showed up for some work. I mentioned the school and how I had to wait for my answer. He proceeds to tell me he worked at the church/school for about 3 years (shocker for me). He then proceeds to ask me if I REALLY want to go, and if I do I can start packing my bags. I heartily reply, YES! He assures me some phone calls will ensue. 4 hours later I receive notification I am accepted! 4 weeks to 4 hours. I like it when things change that dramatically. The timing couldn't be better, we are holding a moving sale as I write.

I am at my comfortable desk while my poor wife is selling off all our furnishings and wares. No, she is not some beaten submissive housewife who hangs on my every word. We have been up past midnight for the past three nights preparing for this chaos. But, I have a paying job that requires me to show up, everyday, on time, with a smile... and a headache;) Plus, I stopped drinking coffee again because I was crashing to hard. So, the adventure begins!

Since Cali will be our new temporary home, we have determined to bring only what will fit into our minivan. That'll be interesting. I've insisted we get rid of our crotchity cat... Jessica refuses. Bella hates cars and we are going to stick her in one for 6-7 days... won't that be pleasant. Everything else is on the auction block. I guess life isn't really about "things" anyway... but they sure make it a little sweeter. Goodbye things.

Emotionally speaking, I am on a high and I dare not conclude it will last... but it sure has felt good for the past day and a half. It feels good not waking up anxious, not feeling aimless, not feeling useless. I want it to last forever!!!!

Let's see what happens next...

Sleep = Zero

Sleep has been evading me lately and I'm not sure how to find it. It's tough to turn your brain off even though you've been awake longer than is healthy, but alas, I can not find that glorious switch.

I had my interview with the school yesterday. It looks like I won't have an answer for possibly six weeks... hmmm. Let's see, that means when we are moved out of our house in 3 weeks I will have sold everything we own, assuming I am accepted, and be living in my parents basement, wondering. That sounds foolish, where's my "Tweedle Dum" hat?

I would love to say that I am 100% positive that this is the right direction to go and that I "heard" from God, but I can't. Realistically, I am trudging forward with heavy boots through dark and unknown caverns, bending my ear and will to pick up any faint noise I can that would give me a hint and hope I am travelling towards the right end. There is a chance I may be part masochist. Unfortunate for my family.

The moving sale is this Friday and Saturday. My life for pennies on the dollar. There's Ethan Allen, Stickley, Bassett, and a slew of randomness that has taken 10 years to compile. Most of it we (as in my beautiful wife and I) care less about, but there are one or two items that pull at the heart strings. It's strange that a person can have a sentimentel attachment to an inanimate object, yet I do... mostly my house... which is 22 days and counting... geeez, it hurts to even type it.

But it is not all that bad. I don't know if my family can find the depth of healing we need here in cozy Lima, and that is one consolation for my battered mind. I truely believe California will draw us together in ways I can only picture in my mind... like the smiling retro family perfectly placed around the gleaming red picnic table without a care in the world. That may be a touch euphoric, but you get the idea. Plus, there's the amazing drive across this gorgeous country! It is one my wife and kids have never made. The raw beauty and geographical diversity inevitably bolsters my faith in God. It helps me to realize that there is no way possible that this is all an accident... there is a divine Creator, which then drives me to ask, "why am I here?", a great question. And, Finally, I am hoping it will break me out of the doldrums in which I reside. An awakening I guess.

To the road less travelled I raise my cup! What mysteries and wonder await!
Right?

Flying Monkeys!!!!

"Flying Monkeys!!!". It's a term I use when I'm exacerbated. It's in direct relation to those nasty little monkeys on "The Wizard of Oz", I've always hated them. They bring chaos and destruction, plus they're ugly as death. I'm quite sure they've found their way into my life, having summoned some bi-dimensional portal for the singular purpose of ruining my life. Regardless, "Flying Monkeys!".

It is now time to pull out my flying monkey ray gun, take aim, and vaporize their evil little backsides, leaving nothing but the smell of burnt fecal matter and little wisps of charred monkey hair drifting away into the sunset. The thing is... I just need to find where I last put that stinking flying monkey ray gun, then the carnage can begin.

Until then I guess I'm just going to have to sit here and try to make sense of everything through the din of cackles and caws, not to mention the awful smell evil monkeys make!

The reality being that I have chosen to side with the monkeys and rain down torment on my precious family, because the truth is, I am a flying monkey... drat! I hate when the story takes those unexpected evil turns!

Since the process of moving to Buffalo took some bad turns, and since we have inadvertently sold our dream house, I have decided (after a weekend of solitude in the woods of NY) to bring more chaos into the picture and move my family to California. It's crazy to say the least, but it is also an opportunity.

I have applied to a school of ministry in Redding. If I am not accepted there it is sure to be a low of which I have yet experienced. Not to mention, I will feel dejected in ways I never have. But, if I am accepted it marks a turning point in our lives. It will be an adventure with all the twists and turns that come with such. My simple prayer is that God will continue to lead me, even in the midst of the darkness of this valley. Let Your Rod and Staff comfort me...

For now I just need to find my ray gun so I can deal with those infernal flying monkeys.

I like bears, I hope they don't like me.

Twice in one week... Fantastic! I doubt this trend will keep up.
Just to clear up a small point, I am not gay, and I have an amazing relationship with my wife. I have been an extremely fortunate person in that I knew another man along the same lines that David knew Jonathan. I also understand the intense pain David endured when Jonathan died. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accurately describe the love we shared.
In regards to the title of this post, I will be throwing myself upon the mercy of mother nature tomorrow. Because of my current mental and spiritual predicament I am burying myself in the wilderness of Canadice on a friends secluded property and not coming out until something changes or the bears have devoured my skinny carcass. I will have my trusty tent, sleeping bag, a notebook, sketchbook, Bible and matches. I will eat rabbits and squirrells to sustain myself as well as slugs and other such slow and witless fodder that stumbles across my path. Actually thats a lie. I am going to cover myself in bear urine in the hopes that I can attract the biggest crankiest bear in NY, and then I will tear him to shreds with my pocket knife, in so doing I will secure the fact that I am a man's man and i will never feel like a failure again... or maybe not.

In actuality i will probably wander aimlessly through woods with my compass and sit by a small fire thinking thoughts that scare and cripple me, and asking questions that may have no answers in hope that one will be answered.

My hope is that God will find me here...

My wife is amazing, she encourages me to do this kind of stuff even when it's a long weekend. She shows how selfless she is again and again. I could never have hoped for such a perfect soulmate. She's feisty too... you should hear our arguments!!!! If you can't argue in your marriage then somethin' ain't right!

This carnival ride is making me bald!

You wouldn't be able to tell I like writing based on how often I post on this thing. Such is life:)
I need to preface this by saying "Thanks Chessy". It was most likely not her intention, but she has convinced me through her writings to add those gritty details that tell the truth of who I am... the joys and struggles. Vagueness (if that is a word) has been my mantra, so I will attempt the unthinkable... to change. You will probably see alot of these "..." because I like them more than a person should:)

One of the foundation shaking struggles that caused me to post the last entry was the loss of my best friend to cancer (Mike Richards, 10-02-09). Even now I struggle to call him my best friend because it is too shallow a description. I had never known anyone who actually lived a passionate life... and by "known" I mean he was closer than a brother, he could read my moods and thoughts with just a glance, when he spoke it was directly to my spirit, brushing past my soul and mind. In regards to my soul, I could bare it with no hinderance. Even though we were opposites in so many ways our hearts were tightly knit together... very tightly. I have never known love like that. I didn't know it was possible for people to know each other so deeply.

When Mike died I felt a pain I never knew existed. I wept cold and bitter tears drawn from a deep and dark well. A well freshly carved into the core of my humanity. The pain has refused to cease and I feel his loss more acutely with every passing day.

I didn't think He could die, he had overcome so much more than almost everyone I knew and I had personally watched him surmount hurdle after hurdle. Plus, he had such an amazing love for others. He could see the good in everyone. How could someone who loved God so deeply and gave his life so freely for others be allowed to die!?

Compounding my grief was the fresh memory of my wife's 7 miscarriages. Losing 7 children in 8 years screws up your head. At first we thought there was a doable pattern: One dead, then Judah, another dead, then Eleanor, another dead... then we thought we would have number three. Nope! 4 more dead babies to go. For some sick reason we thought after each death the next baby would live and we would be done... we never imagined only two kids. Why own a minivan? The third never came. Instead, Jessica almost died after they sucked the lifeless form from within her womb. There were nurses dashing frantically about, Jessica crashing right infront of me, a flurry of shouts and chaos, me being pulled from her bedside as she was rushed into emergency and then the waiting. A couple hours later the doctor walked over to me with a bittersweet look on his face. She would be fine but... I hate "but"... but, there was a complication with the D&E (more complicated than a D&C because the baby is bigger). She had been cut badly and was bleeding internally so, they had to cut her open and find the damage and fix it. The irony was that she had a c-section (but it was quite a bit longer) and no child to show for it. What a lovely physical reminder:/ This being one of 7 stories.

Jessica had barely begun to recover from her last miscarriage when Mike died. A month after Mike died I made the decision to prevent the demise of my wife (she had conceived while we were using condoms... sorry for the visuals), I got snipped... at 30. Then... there's always a big "then"... while "the boys" were still tender my poor wife had a massive breakdown. Her body and mind came to a crashing crescendo. I watched helplessly as she battled with a nemesis that seemed as though it was consuming every part of her. Life was good... somewhere on the planet.


Beneath all of this was my constant decision to hate my job... the people were great, but I hated the job since I was 17. Yet, 13 years later and I'm still doing it. Ironically, I just sold my house so I can move to Buffalo and start another branch. Sadly, the house we were looking to purchase in Buffalo fell through, costing me ALOT of money, and a week ago we lost a huge account in Buffalo... PHENOMENAL! Good thing I sold my house, err somethin'! This is where an expletive would probably fit perfectly, but my morals permit nothing more than a hearty "DARN IT TO HELL!". I can say "hell" because it's in the Bible, and for that matter so our "damn" and "ass"... but we'll stick with hell since I wouldn't mind some of these situations going there.

I must not forget to mention that my wife and I stepped down from our voluntary roles as youth pastors and worship leader (her of course, because I sound like a dying frog), shortly before her breakdown. This was after being in ministry for 10 years. How do you say, "I feel like an epic failure"?...

All my Christian slogans went out the window. If there was love I couldn't feel it, if there was grace I wasn't receiving any of it, if there was mercy none was shown to me. Funny thing is that pain blinds you. Maybe it's the nonstop flood of tears or the fact that you can't even lift yourself up off the ground to look... regardless, you're still blind. I was blind... as a matter of fact I am still blind.

I can't say the catchy Christian phrases anymore because I'm not sure if I really know what they mean... or maybe I do. Maybe now more than ever... I'm not sure that love is love until it withstands the tragedy, allbeit scarred... I'm not sure that grace is grace until it has endured the bitter heart... and i'm not sure mercy is mercy until it has rescued the lost... I'm not sure of much right now.

I'm definitely confused. I feel lost. I don't know which way to head.

3 doors to choose from... Rochester, Buffalo, California?

The constant is God. Not people, not emotions, definitely not circumstances. It sounds like an oxymoron based on everything I've just said... I know. He's here... somehow. I can't see Him... that's a definite. I can't hear Him... or at least I can't understand. But, in some strange way I can feel Him. When my nerves snap and my resolve splinters and I can do nothing but sit with my head in my hands, too numb to speak or move, a strange peace begins to meander quietly into my spirit. Bypassing my soul and mind because I've exhausted those. It goes straight to the core of who I am and starts there.

Funny thing is I never knew it existed until I came to the end of what I could do and think.

I have so much to be thankful for despite the melancholy bend of this note. Please don't think my life is a living hell. I live a good life. But, I'm a bit lost and confused right now, and this is my medium.

Peace bolsters my soul and keeps this damaged ship afloat... I know He's there.

Ever wonder?

Being caught in a rip tide is a terrifying thing. No matter how violently you oppose it, you have no power over it. You've lost complete control of where you're going, knowing simply that your being thrust farther and farther from the shore.

If my dream is the shore I have lost sight of it.

I feel as though I have found myself in a sea that churns me about as it wills, leaving me near hopeless and tired.

I have never lost ahold of my dream until now... I never thought I could. 20 years of hoping vanished in 2 months.

Don't get me wrong. I can count my blessings all day long and still not have enough time to fit them all in. Amazing family, friends, job. I lack nothing... almost.

It's funny how one little spice can completely change the flavor of a dish. It could have the most amazing presentation, the finest ingredients, prepared by a true chef, but... if that one spice is left out, it hits your palate as bland and lifeless. It goes from extraordinary to utterly disappointing.

Maybe this is just a deep valley and I've lost sight of the sun?

Bleak as this may (or may not) sound, I am far from suicidal or from wandering around in some darkened rank pit of despair. I have too much to be thankful for (especially when I look into the eyes of my children). I am simply lost. I don't know where to turn, what future to grab ahold of.

Which way do I swim to find the shore?

I'm open to your thoughts...