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.