Vol II: #52 Keep Calm, Carry On

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I want to write a post about the craft of writing but I feel it is a disservice to my prior post. “How can anyone write about writing when Russian is steam-rolling through Ukraine?” This is, of course, one of the plagues of our time. The present culture demands endless contrition. Our task is to going living in the face of theses grave circumstances, to choose joy and hope over despair or outrage, to live from the heart and never by news reports.

Artistic expression always appears vain at times of war and protests but it is not. Especially now, we cannot shrink back from any aspect of who we are which demonstrates who He is. The critics will talk about appropriate times to laugh or relax. We were made to rebuke the storms and calm the seas.

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Vol II: #51 Praying for Ukraine

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Right now, a dictator is slowly moving his pieces on the board, eating up chunks of Ukraine as he goes. While the West scrambles to respond, the former KGB agent is playing chess while we act like it’s a game of go fish. Vladimir Putin is wiser and more evil than any of his communist predecessors. He learned from Hitler to be patient instead of rash- to wait for elections in countries given to popular swings in policy. He’s not going anywhere, safe in the knowledge that Biden is on the clock. The warnings were given by 2012 presidential candidate Mitt Romney and the late great General Colin Powell. They were laughed at then ignored*. And now, and for who knows how long, we’ve got a real shit show on our hands.

See, while Americans bitch about masks and vaccines, Putin is planning a take over of Eastern Europe. And up till now, he’s taken little bits of various eastern bloc countries. And, why not? Russia suffered no real consequences from its interference in British and US elections. What’s taking land from Georgia or seizing Crimea? In truth, it’s everything. Criminal minds start small and expand once they become confident they can take more. Putin going to spread his special brand of tyranny all over Europe, and he’ll take it one mile at a time. He’s in no rush.

President Bush saw this coming. Even though he smiled and talked warmly of Putin, Mr. Bush also pushed for a missile defense system in the Czech Republic. President Obama scrapped the plan as paranoid, though they would later deny this claim. Last year the Czech Republic finally signed a deal with Israel on a defense system though it won’t be completed for some time. Too little too late to save Ukraine, but still worth doing. Putin won’t stop with Ukraine. We best be ready.

What chaps my ass is how blind people are to real-world dangers. Crazy conservatives believe Hollywood sacrifices babies and liberals are scared of people without masks. Meanwhile, the planet is about to boil due to climate change(greed) and Vladimir Putin continues to inflict pain on everyone he rules (Not to mention China’s ever-expanding reach and subjugation of developing countries.) We have our heads so far up our own asses we can’t see what’s really happening in the world. But, I will not fear what’s in the world.

Yes. I’m pissed about what’s happening in Ukraine. First and foremost, my heart goes out to people who just want to rule themselves. They deserve as much. They deserve to live in a country untainted by threats on journalists and violent abuse of the LBGT community. I know our weak President will not respond with strength or swift action. So, I put all of my faith and energy into the hands of the Lord. He loves the Ukrainian people, and being ruled by Russia is not His plan for them.

It no longer matters who was right or wrong. We need a miracle. Ukraine needs a miracle. And, I will pray they have it.

*And don’t forget that ding-dong Trump. He was Putin’s lap dog for the last four years. He called Putin a “good guy” and never said a bad thing about the man. To be fair, both Democrats and Republicans are at fault when it comes to how we’ve let Putin get away with literal murder. It just sucks that Biden is terrified to be strong when we need it most.

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Vol II: #50 The Hopeful Idiot

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My average day at BSSM includes doodling on my sketchpad or staring at my watch as I wait for class to end. On occasion, I’ll pull out my phone and play whatever game I’m currently into playing. But, mostly, I’m just waiting until I can go home where I feel safe and unchallenged. For better or worse, I can’t tell who spoke last week or what their subject matter was. It is what it is. My goal is to finish not be an all-star student. Fortunately, the Lord is good and meets me where I am, as he did last Wednesday.

Kris Vallotton- the second in command at Bethel- usually teaches our class on Wednesdays. He’s a decent speaker with a gift for a good story. I appreciate stories over abstract concepts. (Bill Johnson speaks in formulas and abstracts which I loathe.) Kris prefers to show how the Lord works instead of telling us how the Lord works. Last Wednesday, he taught us about deliverance. As he did, he explained his journey and the snares he encountered. Toward the end of his lecture, he dove into a specific deliverance from the spirit of doom and gloom. I couldn’t how back my tears as he detailed the types of thoughts he had, what he thought was normal, and how the Lord set him free from expecting the worst.

It’s been 168 days since BSSM began and this one story proved to hit me most squarely in the chest. I too expect the worst from life, for relationships to fall apart and new business ventures to fail. After all, isn’t that the way it is? Or, is it possible to expect the best, to believe and hope for more? According to Mr. Vallotton, the answer is the latter. More impressive is that I can be free from the constant crush of impending doom- I’d rather be a hopeful idiot than a wise cynic.

I’ll keep you updated.

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Vol II: #49 Honoring My Father and Mother

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When anyone asks “how’s your relationship with your parents?” I respond in the affirmative. And, it gives me great joy to do so. I’m blessed to maintain a healthy and functional relationship with both my mom and dad- a result of prayer, love, and a willingness to meet each other halfway. We’ve grown closer regardless of physical distances, proving that love is unbounded.

Until recently, I secretly harbored a bit of pride over these facts: I’m such a good son. The thought is not untrue, I do try to be a good son. But, it’s incomplete and ego-centered. Whatever I am and whatever I become is due in large part to their support and strength. They empowered me to take risks, explore, and “find myself.” It’s a gift I can’t repay.

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One of the blessings of BSSM is it put me in contact with a wide variety of international students. I love them, even when they complain about America. My new friends hail from Colombia, Nepal, Canada, Germany, the Netherlands, Taiwan, Pakistan, and Brazil. And as the conversations stack up, the subject matter becoming ever more weighty and personal a few common themes surfaced. One theme that has terrified me is the “get a job and live responsibly” sentiment. You see, most of my international classmates do not have the support of their parents and loved ones. BSSM has no practical purpose and ministry is poverty is what they are told. And yet, they came anyway.

With these stories and conversations banked in my brain, I went for a walk last week and began to pray. Deep in the woods beside the creek, I began to thank the Lord for my parents and their undying support. And then, I started laughing. Like an idiot. The next words out of my mouth were “thank you, Lord, for parents who allowed me to be foolish and irresponsible without shame or condemnation.” The laughter continued.

The thing is, I can’t recall my mom or dad ever asking me to “get a real job” or “pick a career.” They might have made suggestions on occasion but nothing concrete or heavy-handed. Even as my failures mounted, they were there to offer me love and empathy, rather than force me to more stable and secure solutions. What a gift. Honestly, what an absolute blessing and grace from the Lord. My parents have let me be myself and I’m overwhelmed to tears when I think about it. They are the first and best example of the love of the Father in my life, and I didn’t even know it.

I offer this example in closing:

In my early 20’s, my dad tried a number of business ventures including an attempt to sell discount phones services to small businesses. Since I needed a job, he recruited me to be a salesman. Out we went to bowling alleys, dentist offices, and law firms alike. The result, at least for me, was always the same: NO. I hated it. After a few weeks of trying, I came home in tears, afraid to tell my father I wanted to quit. Eventually, in a whimper of snot and tears, I told him. And, you know what? He said, “Ok.” I was shocked. He didn’t argue or belittle me- didn’t try to convince me to break my face against the sales grind “just one more time.” He put his arm around me and never mentioned it again.

(I have a hundred stories of a similar nature. They don’t all include tears and mucus, but the reaction from my parents is roughly the same. Somehow, my mom and dad learned how to parent me. Because, and I need to be real about this, I would resent and reject anyone telling me what to do. Still, I have yet to hear any frustration in their voices when I move on from one opportunity to another or switch directions. I’m so, so thankful for this disposition.)

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To Kevin and Joan,

Thank you.

Your loving and grateful son,

Nik

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Vol II: #48 COVID-19, the Destroyer of Goals

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Laughing at a problem is far superior to fearing said problem. All the more, it’s best to venture headfirst into the hysterics of belly laughs and stretched cheeks when faced with a stack of crap. By any measure or means, January was not a success for Nik. The first month of 2022 was a stack of crap. Therefore, given the premise developed above, I will giggle and guffaw at the hurdles presented by December’s baby.

I am behooved to confess, I watched a few movies, and some football, and pretty much anything I wanted to consume only four days into my TV fast. The break-up with lady Television didn’t take. She’s a real temptress, easy and available. Take heart, I haven’t given up my quest to live life without boundless entertainment. What lay beyond this break-up is everything I want. In a few days, my strength will return and I’ll renew the battle.

Intellect and ego demand a villain. The defendant, in this case, is COVID-19. As of today, I am still positive for the virus according to several tests. But rather than serve my pride, I choose to forget the last 20 plus days of quarantine and frustration. I have decided to laugh at the last three weeks because I can’t think of a more apt response. Nothing develops character or resolve more than winning the moments designed to test your dedication. I win not because I won, but because I will not give up the fight.

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Abstract: So Says Jesus

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Today is one of the days,

when no purpose or journey looks worthy of the required sacrifices,

Conversely, crying alone in the corner is no viable option,

not for a human of such fine quality and talent…

Oh no, I am not allowed to fail.

Not allowed to feel self-pity or confusion.

Not allowed to ask questions or work through the nast’ness of faith,

Certainly can’t be afraid or tremble…

My solace, my refuge at this moment, is Jesus.

On this day, when my life feels like a bag of shit,

I recite the opening lines of Jesus’ mountainside chat:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for their’s is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

I sit and type, and search for a way out of this fog,

and as disconnected as I feel,

I receive that love, that promise of heritage and grace.

When I am anxious, scared, and cut off,

my gift is Heaven.

When I cry, He will comfort me.

So says Jesus.

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Vol II: #47 The Entertainment Fast Defined

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In yesterday’s post, I wrote about my long affair with TV and entertainment. I also mentioned the beginning of my commitment to be TV-free for a year. Today, I will define what I consider to be “TV” and the boundaries of my commitment.

In the age of streaming, I think it’s best if I start with a definition of TV. I used the word TV liberally in my post yesterday, but today it makes sense to define it in broader terms of entertainment. The internet and smart devices turned all of our screens into little TVs, and entertainment is more than the network programming I grew up watching in the ’80s. (Ten-year-old Nik would’ve peed himself if he knew he could watch football from a handheld video phone.)

For the purpose of my Entertainment Fast, I define entertainment as the following:

Entertain is any recorded or live streamed, broadcast, or stored file program, sporting event, or movie. This includes any streamed show from an app such as Netflix or Apple+, broadcast from network TV, YouTube videos, and DVDs. It also includes old movies, any and every sporting event- including the coming Winter Olympics-, sitcoms, reality TV, documentaires, etc.

In short, for my purpose entertainment is an inclusive concept. I’m not going to give myself wiggle room. The spirit of this fast is to remove an idol from life, to make room for more of the good stuff. I don’t believe the removal of one thing will automatically cure wait ails me, but it will provide the needed space for the healing to occur.

Now that we have a rough definition of what is considered entertainment, the next task is to set the rules. Should I run from the room screaming when my roommate flips on the living room TV? Must I avoid ESPN.com for its video clips? Must I pluck out my eye if I watch an episode of Law and Order- for the bad acting, amiright? Below are what I think are five six good rules for the next year.

1. When I’m home, no entertainment unless invited to do so by my roommate. So, when Ben fires up the TV, I will casually excuse myself soon after. If Ben invites me to watch a show or movie- at home or in the theatre- I give myself permission to accept or decline his invitation.

2. When I’m visiting family or friends, entertainment is ok as a means of social interaction. The Super Bowl is in February and I’ll go watch it at a friend’s house. This is acceptable because it’s an invitation to be with other people.

3. When I’m visiting family or friends, entertainment is not ok as a means of distraction or self-medication.

4. I will allow myself to watch movies or videos for relevant educational and health-related purposes. My art classes are pre-recorded online classes, so I will continue to watch them, as are my yoga classes. If I want to learn how to make falafel, I’ll log onto YouTube. What doesn’t qualify would be a series of videos on 18th century Prussia. While educational, they aren’t relevant. If I genuinely want to learn about Prussian history, books still exist.

5. Video highlight clips of news and sports are ok. Remember, this fast isn’t about being cut off from the world. It’s about putting my life in proper priority. Watching the occasional clips of news or sports is very different than watching an entire 4-hour game.

6. OOPS. Adding a sixth! All rules are suspended on a plane. I can’t read on a plane, and movies help pass the time. (I’m not much of a podcast listener.)

As of today, the biggest hurdle is going to be what I do when my mind is desperate to “veg out.” I feel that way right now. My mind is telling me I want to watch a nature documentary. It doesn’t, but that’s what it’s telling me. So, I assume I will go through an adjustment period. My brain is going to be rewired and I don’t know how long it’s going to take.

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Vol II: #46 No TV For A Year

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When I list and therefore define my childhood hobbies and traditions, I rattle on about high school football and church pot lucks, summer road trips to visit family in western Pennsylvania, and the grey sand beaches of Mount Pleasant- just over the bridge from Charleston. This distilled compilation of my early years is accurate but incomplete. From the age of three until today, my one constant friend and companion, the one rarely discussed, is the television. I suppose it’s too common a thing to mention but today is a different day.

I loved Saturday morning cartoons as a kid. My poor parents couldn’t peel me out of bed during the week for school, but on Saturday mornings I was up early like 5:30 am early. I watched GI Joe, Gummie Bears, Thunder Cats, and The Smurfs. He-Man was my favorite for reasons I cannot remember. From elementary school into middle school, I transitioned into a fan of the sitcom. Dukes of Hazzard was my first love, but then I found The Cosby Show, A Different World, and ALF. I spent my adolescent Friday night watching TGIF programming- Full House, Perfect Strangers, and Family Matters. By then, I also watched an increasing amount of sports including every football game I could manage.

In the fifth grade, my teacher Mrs. Bergen discovered how much I loved the US Hockey Team’s run in the 1992 Winter Olympics. So, as a reward for good behavior, she set up a private viewing of the Sweden game in the back room of the school library. I was the only kid there, and it was glorious. To think back on that moment is wild in 2022- 30 years after the fact. And, what did it say about me? Mrs. Bergen may have cracked a code; if only she’d known she might have warned the others. Just promise to let him watch TV during class time and he’ll do anything.

I’ve watched so much television in my 41 years it’s embarrassing to admit. Unfortunately, I’m not alone. I think my story is common among people my age and younger. And, there’s more to it than simple viewing pleasure. I have an emotional attachment to TV. Better said, I’ve run to the TV, my phone, laptop, or PC in times of trouble. It’s been the dependable one in my life- the entity to satisfy my curiosities, distract me, and hold my attention. For all my watching, I wasted a lot of time I could’ve been doing. By any measure, it’s an idol.

After a chat with the Holy Spirit today, I decided to give up TV for the next year. And being completely honest, I hope it sticks. I gave entertainment too high a priority in my life and rarely did any living. Over the last 2-3 years, I did a bit of living and found it to be way more exciting and worthwhile than any watching. Oh, I’m not saying TV is bad, and I’m not turning into a crusader of any kind. This is about me living my best life.

Enjoying a show or a game can be a healthy part of life, but I made enjoyment of shows a major part of my life. It gave me very little in return. Now, I’m giving myself the gift of time, to process, to grow, to be bored, to read, to think, and spend more time with Jesus. My commitment has already given me time to write this blog and go over a drawing lesson. I like that.

See ya tomorrow.

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Vol II: #45 An Opportune Time

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“…he left Him, until a more opportune time.”

- Luke 4:13

The verse above is from the story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert. Our hero rebukes the Devil’s every advance, and then the bastard leaves…until a more opportune time. I know I read those words ages ago but not until last summer did they stand out from the page. Apparently, the desert dual was not the only instance of temptation. More importantly, the enemy picked his moments- opportune moments- to go after Jesus. We are likely no different.

My last week of life has seen a flurry of uninvited bullshit and happenings. One family member had to have emergency surgery, which was apparently life-threatening. The alternator on my car died- the part that keeps your battery charged. And, I tested positive for COVID with the accompanying symptoms. That’s not to mention my lack of income due to poor market conditions. And I barely want to mention how the Delta lost my luggage for three days because it seems like a minor inconvenience compared to the rest.

In a previous life, I would wail and bemoan my fate: Woah is me. Doesn’t God love me? What am I doing wrong? If I was a better person, this wouldn‘t happen. Of course, these are all lies. It’s just my life.

The one temptation, a repeating thought, is to quit BSSM. At this point, I’d say I tolerate their shenanigans and fervor. They are no different than any other church. Bethel, via Bill, has a sliver of God, a precious piece of His goodness. And, like most churches, they believe their revelation is better than what exists outside their walls. How very normal for a church to be this way. Having attended dozens of churches in my lifetime, this arrogance is common and seems unavoidable.

As I lay in bed, willing myself to watch the class online today, I felt as though I was behind a glass wall. I felt separate and different. I’m no revivalist and have no desire to be one of them. (At this point, I’d say Heidi Baker’s theology is the closest to my own- Love looks like something. It can be a hug or a meal or a miracle. Love changes people, not miracles alone. The point is to introduce people to the love and kindness of Jesus, and that may look different for each person we meet.) Yes. They are good people, living on the edge of what they know to be good and true. I hope we all do. But, it’s not my edge.

My mind often wonders what I could be doing if not for BSSM. No more silly speakers and disorganized meetings. And, no more new friends and meaningful conversations. It is these wonderful people I’ve met, mostly my fellow students, who’ve made the experience worth the price. How could I leave them, in the middle of the year, without a solid reason? I can’t. Moreover, no one at BSSM is asking me to be like them- other than Bill. His style of preaching is not for me and tire very quickly when he speaks.

I’ve wanted to quit BSSM before it started, and now I know this is the temptation the enemy has for me. I laugh at the tactic because there’s humor in it. Think about this: why would a needed car repair translate into quitting ministry school? There’s no logic to that thought, but this is the opportune time, right? The enemy loves to get on us after an arguement, or when the car breaks down, and our bank account runs lower than we’d like. He waits until we are stressed and weak, wanting freedom from these worries. It is this exact moment, as the water leaks into our boat, to throw up our hands to Him.

Lord, I’m here. No matter what happens. You are still good, and so am I.

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Abstract: Unashamed

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The old man at the back injected his twisted wisdom,

get over it he shouted,

the noise caused boys at the pool table to watch the commotion.

Then, the news spreads through their ranks.

How long did they date?

When did they break up?

Under their breath they murmured the same condemnation as the old man.

In my shame I dropped my head, and repeated their judgment to myself.

Eventually, I moved to the corner, out of sight from the old man,

and out of earshot of the boys near the bar.

In the darkness, I pleaded my case to the Lord,

Take these hopes from me.

I let go.

It’s finished.

‘felt like a vain exercise.

After months of frustration,

The Holy One sat beside me,

as I cried,

more tears for a woman I’d rather forget.

She smiled at me,

and placed her hand gently on my back.

And when I stopped long enough to listen,

she whispered:

My son, my sweet man,

if you ever wondered if you knew how to love,

should those lies ever attack you again,

think on this…and her.

You loved deeply, freely, and without regret,

even when it went unreturned.

This is how I love you and everyone in this room.

All the years you spent learning at My feet,

asking Me to enlarge your heart,

were fruitful,

and I will multiply it.

The men in this bar,

they need you.

Behind every jeer,

is their fear,

to go to the depths,

to be vulnerable,

to let their hearts bleed in the open.

They must know,

no wound it too great for My hands,

to those willing to let me touch the pain.

Tell your story,

show them your scars,

your whole heart,

healed as it is.

My treasure,

My Love,

My son.

I finished my drink and looked around the dingy room,

unashamed of my naked state,

or the blood beneath me.

God is good,

and pain is not the end.

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Vol II: #44 Yielding

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Nathan told me as he grated the white cheddar cheese for our nachos. “She’s leaving,” he said, half matter of fact, half knowing it would be news to me. Sadness and anger flooded my being as I fought back tears. Then, I made a snide comment, one I instantly wanted to back. After we ate, I went into the living to watch football while he cleaned the kitchen. The nachos were delicious, and on any other day, I would’ve raved about them more than I did. Unfortunately, I was consumed with myself. I didn’t go watch football as much as allow myself to leak a few tears before he joined me on the couch.

For a few moments, I hated myself. I hated my reaction to the news my former girlfriend is about to move across the country. I prefer to lack an opinion on the subject. It’s her life, and I’m glad she’s doing what she wants to do. Who I am to judge or comment? Regardless, I did react, which revealed a dim flicker of hope- a desire I’ve long tried to extinguish and ignore. Why can’t I feel nothing for this woman?

I stayed for another hour at Nathan’s house and tried my best to appear unfazed. Despite the effort, I’m certain Nathan knew better. He’s a sensitive man.

In my despair, I texted my two most trusted advisors, friends who earned my respect and trust. The first one offered no wisdom but gave me his undivided empathy, That is hard dude. And man, if this is part of helping you move forward in victory then so be it - also - fuck. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. I love you Nik. We all need that. When something sucks, I need someone to see it that way. Then, friend number two, my Yoda, came through with the wisdom and encouragement my heart needed:

[a]s much as I know you want to be forever over *******, if you could just get over her...you wouldn't be the kind of man that is so worthy of a great love in his life.

You keep seeing this as a flaw about yourself…but having loved a person so deeply you would have married them....there is not a linear line to moving on.

She’s right- my Yoda friend. I loved my former girlfriend, deeply. I liked her and wanted her forever. For the last year, I harbored shame and embarrassment that I wasn’t completely “over her.” I’ve hated every reaction, as I did Friday at Nathan’s.

The truth is I still love my former girlfriend. I still want the best for her, want her to live her dreams, and fulfill every destiny given to her by God. I still pray for her and her family and wonder how their holidays were. And no. I don’t see a path forward for the two of us. That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about- the romantic rush of desire. I’m referring to the deep love required to spend a lifetime with a partner. I had it, or have it. Why should I be embarrassed about that?

Late last night, while I tossed in bed, I felt a peace trickled into my mind and down to my heart. I know how to love, to hope, and remain constant, even when everything is in ashes and the light is gone. I regret nothing, even now, 17 months after our breakup. I don’t regret the effort I gave, the mistakes I made, or the heartache in the aftermath. I truly loved someone and went to a depth I didn’t know I have. It’s worth celebrating. I’m worth celebrating.

Lord,

This process has gone on longer than I expected or wanted but I decided to stop fighting it. What do you have for me in this place? What’s your truth and grace? You know I want to date again, and yet, I’m scared of the feelings I carry for another. As in all things, your will be done. I yield to You and your wisdom. I trust you.

And thank you for the friends you gave me, their empathy, their insight, and compassion.

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Vol II: #43 Bachelor Days

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I made chicken soup from scratch earlier today. Like most of my “recipes,” it’s a mishmash of American and Asian ingredients. To almost anyone, the broth tastes familiar and simultaneously unique. Most people, including you, would probably be able to discern the ginger and green onion, but probably not the orange peel, star anise, or cardamom. The overall flavor is deep and rich and I’m pleased with the result. It’s a chicken soup worthy of my talents and pallet as a former cook. I will eat a few bowl of the soup this week, and turn the remaining into gifts before I fly to Columbia for Christmas.

After I jarred my delicious effort, I cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, and took out the trash. And like most days, I stood completely alone in my triumph. It’s getting old-these unshared moments of glory. Unfortunately, I see no end in sight. Late Thursday evening, I’ll climb into my car, and turn down I-5 toward Sacramento to begin my 12 hour trip to Columbia. Again, once more, I will do this alone. And as mentioned before, it’s getting old. Each trip, I am the shaggy single man, moving in and out between families and young lovers at the airport, determined to appear content. Book in hand and earbuds in place, I watch as fathers look over their sons and mothers fuss at their daughters. I hope they appreciate the fleeting reality of the moment, how fortunate and blessed they are to be stranded together if a flight is delayed. Do they know, not everyone has what they have, and how it’s not so easy for some of us? I hope so. Just ask and I’ll tell you.

I don’t feel this way all the time- lonely. Mostly, I see my singleness as a stage of life closer to its end than ever before. The frustrating part is I can’t educate or buy my way out of this condition. I know, deep in my rigid heart, I’ve got to make choices, to ask for and eventually go on dates. The problem is I don’t want to ask for dates. The last time I dared love a woman, she fucking crushed me. Were I younger, I’d think it an apparition, but at 41 it seems like the trend. It’s not as though I haven’t learned from each experience: there was the agnostic dance teacher, the drug-addict stripper, the dog-loving school teacher, the essential oils lady, the worship leader, and then the wondrous kitchen manager. No matter what, the result was the same. And accept for the stripper, I was the one left behind so they could move onto bigger and better.

My mind knows this plague will end at the long end of an isle surrounded by my friends and family. Somewhere, buried beneath the disappointment, my heart believes it too. So I’m writing this blog not to elicit sympathy or pity, but as a signpost for the future me, for my children, and anyone caught in a similar pattern of heartache. At the moment, my heart isn’t ready to move forward, but that day will come. But on this day, all I got is a thread of hope and the wisdom to dismiss the associated shame. God is good, and so am I, even in my loneliness. All things end in this world, and by the grace of God so will my days as a bachelor.

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