For a long time I have been wired to be a pretty cheerful person, and for many years I had multiple reasons to be be happy. I have a great extended family and I adore my children. In addition, God delights in pouring bucket after bucket of blessings on me, drenching me from the top of my bald head to the toes on my feet.

I am a fortunate person. 

However, I am not blind and I fully realize I am coming up short in some important (at least to me) ways.

During the separation and the divorce, I realized just how important relationships are to me. For many months I went through a dreadful time of aloneness and loneliness. In my wife, I had what I thought was going to be a lifetime partner. I had someone to hike with, play with, eat with, clean house with, talk with, hangout with, even work in the yard with. The plan was to always return home to each other.

And then the house was empty (except for Kodi the dog).

I was fortunate in that friends invited me to share meals together. Eventually the hell evaporated and I began to smile again.  I no longer felt the need to wack one of my cherry trees with a wooden bat.

But then Covid happened, but I think even worse, July happened.

The virus is obvious….so no need to go into that. July, however, was a completely horrible surprise. It brought back to me the memories of how awful I felt during the months/years of my separation. The sadness, the pain, the awful memories returned. My patience evaporated and my quick to anger returned — all in living color.

A friend of the family decided she needed to separate from her husband and moved into my house with my daughter and me. I welcomed her with wide-open arms. I offered her hugs and words of wisdom and a shoulder to cry on. God gave me this house to share with others. It is a place to party and to heal. This is not just my house, it is “our house”. Ever since my wife and I and children bought this home on an acre back in 2001, we opened the gates to everyone. Over the summer two other ladies needed a place to crash for a week, so we had a houseful. And that was OK. Glad to help out.

Little did I know that hearing this friend’s stories and watching her cry and talk with a shaky voice reminded me of my hell.  It all just flooded back. It sometimes was hard to maintain my composure. Sometimes words came out of my mouth that I would quickly regret. Sometimes I was an ass. I really regret those times, but I do realize that I am having to relive the worst time of my life over and over and over again.

I bring this up to God a lot. I pray for forgiveness, but also for healing for both of us. And for my daughter.  The three of us are fully aware of what is going on. We must just continue to love and hug each other.

I love sharing my home and my things. I get a wild kick out of giving away what God has given to me.

During the breakup of my marriage, I was introduced to the teachings of a pastor based out of southern California — Rick Warren of Saddleback Church.  I even got to attend one of his services and was able to meet him afterward. During my separation, I watched many of his sermons online and today still receive emails containing a short lesson.

An email I read this week was dang timely. In part, it read:

“What you need to know is that God has wired the universe so that happiness doesn’t come from money, status, relationships, or success. Happiness comes from service. 

God designed you to be happiest when you are giving your life away. Why? Because God wants you to become like him. And it’s all about love!

To have a happy heart, you need to practice service and generosity every day. With your friends, with your spouse, with your kids, with your co-workers. 

God also wired the universe in such a way that the more you give yourself away, the more God gives to you and the more blessed and happy you are. Sacrifice and serving are two of the keys to lifelong happiness – generously giving your life away for the sake of the gospel.”

To be really quite frank, I did not learn this lesson until I was able to go to New Orleans a few months after Katrina hit. I went with a group of incredible, giving individuals from my church for a week to help in the rebuilding of homes damaged by the hurricane. It all hit me both in my heart and across my forehead when I walked through the very deserted airport. What I at first envisioned as a pretty cheap vacation to a party city quickly morphed into a love affair for serving others.

Probably more important is that I met and spoke with many people who lost EVERYTHING and somehow remained thankful.

One woman I met towards the end of numerous trips to NOLA taught me a valuable lesson in thankfulness and appreciation for what you have.  Our group was helping to rebuild  the home of a single woman in the Lower Ninth Ward — a poor section of the city. This was the week before Easter. A woman who lived across the street brought us lunch every day. On Good Friday — the last day we were working on the home —- she not only brought us lunch, but also Easter baskets.  This single woman was a hoarder, was dirt poor, and had Aids. 

But you know what, she had a smile that made you want to sing. It never left her. It has never left me.

As to our friend and her marriage and divorce, and my memories flooding back, there is no happy ending to the story. quite yet Their short marriage will be over soon, they have just sold their home and she is looking for a new place to live, and I am still reminded daily of the agony — the sadness that had started to dissipate. I had began to walk again with confidence and a bit of joy until last July. I am reminded of my sadness every time I look at her face and see it in her. I see my reflection every time I look at her and see her sadness. The eyes no longer sparkle and the skin sags in weariness. It is exhausting for both of us.

Yet I know that there is hope in Christ. I remember the joy that had returned. I remember when my shoulders were no longer hanging due to the fatigue brought on by extreme sadness and loneliness. This I know — there is victory in Jesus and I will rediscover joy.

There I was at work, sitting in my Dilbert cubicle, in my comfortable chair looking at my two computer screens. It was a slow moment and my mind wandered.

I saw my calendar and it reminded me it was December. And then I remembered. 

This is the first anniversary of my divorce. But I could not remember specifically what day it was final.

I went to the Pierce County website, to the Superior Court page, and found the legal records of the divorce. There it was.

In just a few, short days, I will have been divorced for one year. December 18th.

I sighed.

But it was not a sad sigh. Rather it was a sigh of disappointment. It was also a sigh of wonder — how in the world could it already be one year?

I was briefly thrown back to that day, December 18th, 2018. I knew this was the day I was going to be single again —- no longer married. This is the day that my wedding ring will be removed. One stroke of a judge’s pen and my life changes forever.

I recall checking this website often that morning. I wrote in a previous blog that I had no idea how I would react when I would see online that my marriage had legally ended. I was at work….would I react by crying, screaming, falling to my knees? Each time I logged into the website, I did so with great hesitancy and nervousness.

A few months ago the editor of a weekly newspaper in Iowa contacted me and wanted to publish my blogs on her opinion page. She mentioned that her area has a higher than average divorce rate and thought my blogs would be well received. She especially liked that they were faith-based written and were from the perspective of a man. I agreed to let her publish them.

This has kept the blogs at the forefront of my mind and I have had many opportunities to sit back and do self-checks on myself.  How am I doing? Am I still morose? Do I still want to take a baseball bat to my cherry tree? Do I cry, with rivers of snot pouring from my nose? Do I walk with my shoulders slumped forward, hands in my pockets, head down, feeling very sorry for myself? 

I once did all of these.

As I do these self-checks (not unlike what Data did in Star Trek Next Generation), I realize I have become much healthier. I am better than OK, but certainly not great. I no longer live in depression or sadness. Long ago I stopped blaming myself. I have stopped looking back and now my eyes look forward. 

Several weeks ago I went on a 10-mile hike in the Olympics. I was not able to get anyone to join me, so I went by myself. As I walked the trail through the beautiful woods, I realized it was not very much fun. The trail was just OK, but there was something else. I discovered that I now would rather share the experience of a walk/hike. This was a revelation.

Let me further explain —- following the separation I was unemployed and alone. I did a lot of walking every day. Sometimes locally — sometimes in the mountains. I did not want anyone with me because my entire focus was on God. I did a lot of talking to him. But more than that, I did a lot of listening. My soul and my heart were ripped open and I exposed my entire being to Him. I thought of this time alone as an opportunity to heal. Think of me walking along the trail, with my arms lifted high and my eyes focused on the sky, asking God for forgiveness and for healing. Sometimes I literally did that, but more often it was just a mindset. I very much wanted to be in total surrender to Him.

Now I am ready for the companionship, sharing the beauty of a mountain view, or walking through an amazing forest, hoping to see a deer or elk or maybe even a bear.

Yes, even today when I walk alone on a mountain trail, I find great peace and healing…..but that is the way I have always felt, whether I was alone or with someone. The mountain air brings strength, and the views cleanse my soul.

Immediately following the separation and going forward for many months, I felt like someone with leprosy from the old Bible stories. I felt ugly, very unwanted, and certainly unloved. I was alone, unemployed, and my wife of 29 years just left me. A word I used a lot in the earlier blogs was perfect — it was horrifying. 

That is all gone now. Praise God. 

To close out today’s blog, though, I have decided to be very honest. Every morning before I go to work I have time alone with God. I read a chapter from both the old and new testaments, and I talk with God in prayer. I have a list of things we talk about, and my love life is one of those topics. 

He knows I am lonely. But it is a different lonely. I do not wallow in self-pity any longer. I just very much yearn for the companionship of a woman who shares common interests and is someone to love and to experience life with. I have placed this at the feet of Jesus and have chosen to trust Him with this. 

Is it easy? Heck no. But if there is one thing that I have grown to understand through these three or so years of hell is that God is trustworthy and knows what He is doing. I can trust Him with my love life. He designed the universe, thought up the idea of an eyeball and toenails, knew just how far away our sun needed to be from Earth to allow for life to exist here, and made puppies so dang cute.

A love life — easy.

It was like most every weekday morning. The time on the microwave read 7:15 am and I grabbed my daypack containing my lunch, iPad, and work badge which allowed me into my employer’s secure building.

I was ready for the 30-minute drive into work.

But I paused as I noticed Kodi (featured in my early blogs) slowly approach me and nuzzled his nose between my legs just above my knees. I knelt down to him face to face, rubbed the top of his head and shoulders, and softly spoke to him. I told him he was in charge of the house and then pulled him closer to me and gave him a big hug.

I was thrown back to my life three years ago. I recalled the role that this Golden Retriever played in my healing process, and I once again felt immense compassion for him. Quite a change from all those years prior to my separation when I thought he was a stupid dog who failed to live up to his breed – he refused to retrieve.

A couple hours later, while waiting for the next customer call, I thought about this morning’s moment in time with Kodi. I felt tears forming. They slightly blurred my vision.

How can it be that this still so affects me emotionally after all of this time, I wondered?

Those tears were directly tied to what happened a  couple of weeks ago when I was reminded that I was not as healed as I had thought.  My son and daughter and their significant others and I were hanging out at a local PUB, eating dinner, talking, and waiting for a pool table to open up. My son then told me he was moving across a mountain range, about 200 miles away from the family home. Initially, I was startled, but within an hour my heart was torn to shreds. Soon a deep sadness envelops me. I became very quiet. We gave up on the pool and returned to my house. I sat in a chair on my backyard patio, looked out at the acre, and once again wondered what my life had become.

Within minutes I knew why I was so sad – and honestly, I was dang angry. I will never publicly say why I was angry, but I recognized that anger. I have felt it before, in recent years.

I am ashamed at that anger – or really the reason for it. It is embarrassing and definitely beneath me.  I am a better person than that.

But as I said earlier, I thought I was a bit more healed than maybe I really am.

This takes me to the big picture of why I was so affected by my son’s announcement.

I remain lonely – but it is a different lonely from what I wrote about earlier.

I have friends.  I do things. I play tennis and go on hikes. I have friends come over and we play a few hours of table games. I no longer want to hike or do other things alone.  I am past that. I no longer think that I am a social loser if I spend a Friday or Saturday night alone.

I am lonely for the intimacy of a female relationship. I miss that amazing closeness. I long to become one with someone and yet at the same time be individuals. I miss the depth of friendship that you can have with no one else. The kisses, hugging, hand-holding, and snuggling together while watching a movie. The sharing of stories or moments in time that only she would really understand. I am her best friend and she is mine.

What do the above two paragraphs have to do with my son? I have found that my patience, my defenses, are not even skin deep. As I read that last sentence over again, I sighed in utter disappointment. 

 

 

 

I had thought I was ready to date – that I had moved on enough.  But now I wonder. Is it fair to the lady if I am still sometimes a little boy?

Can’t I just take a pill, say a prayer, or chant some mantra that will heal the sting that comes from the closure of a 30-year marriage? How long does this take?

Am I being too harsh on myself? Maybe. This is all uncharted territory for me.

Now, and this is a big now, I totally support the reason why my son is moving.  (That is his story to tell). I understand it and agree with it. It is the part that I cannot tell that just pisses me off.

But it should not make me angry. I should just shrug it off and move on. That is what I want to do. Yet it is like a physical injury that you thought you were completely healed from, but when you try to get back into the game, you run with a limp or maybe your shot falls short.

Which then takes me to a much bigger question. Can one be totally healed after the end of a long-term marriage? Or maybe that is the wrong question. Maybe this is something that has changed me forever. Maybe the gallons after gallons of crap that I pushed through each day just to breath changed me forever.

I have no idea.  I do not know the answer to that question.

On the bright side, this is a small part of my life. I do not get angry (which morphs into a deep sadness) often, and I know what triggers it. I have learned much through this journey and I am convinced that my walk with Christ is much deeper for it. Above all else, I have learned a truth that has changed how I look at each and every day.  Relationships are what really matters — above all else.  My relationship with God and Christ Jesus, my children, my family, my friends, and everyone I meet daily. As I read the Gospel stories, I pay attention to how Jesus related to everyone around Him. That is the person I want to be. It changes how you live each day.  The focus is no longer on yourself —- it is on others.

Now if I could just allow the healing power of God to completely wash me anew so this trigger evaporates and I am no longer held in bondage.

It was when I surrendered my life to Christ—about 45 years ago – that I first began to understand that I am complete in Jesus.

And I am. I do believe that.

But please allow me to put an asterisk somewhere in that sentence and guide you to the Bible’s Book of Genesis. In the second chapter, verse 18, you read “…..It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper who is just right for him.”

God then creates the animals, and then completes the creation with a woman from the man’s rib. Reading from the New Living Translation, the man responds by saying, “At last!”

I love that.

But does that mean that I am not complete without a woman? Mmmmm…..

 

 

If you have been reading my blogs, you are aware that I was separated for three years and have now been divorced since mid-December. For the most part, emotionally I feel OK. Not great, just OK. The turmoil, the anger, the utter sadness is gone.

What I have been aware of, though, is a hole, an emptiness.  I do not feel complete. Something is missing.

I have also been aware that somewhere in the background of each day is a feeling of waiting. 

Shortly after the divorce was final, I signed up with eHarmony, an online dating website. I had a few dates that went nowhere. For the last couple of months, there have been very few “matches”. I have canceled my subscription. It just felt too weird.

I do not intend to get all theological, but I must explain here. Since my divorce was final, I have had private discussions with God about my future. I have made it perfectly clear to God what my heart wants. I cannot imagine living the rest of my life as a single guy. But I always, I always complete that prayer with “but your will be done.”

I absolutely believe that if God intends me to be single, He will make my heart and soul perfectly at peace with that.

I have not been at peace. I am lonely.

Over the last several weeks or months I have thought about all those years when I was single.  I did not marry until I was 30. I just shutter is disbelief. How in the world did I survive all those years as a single guy?

Maybe I did not know what I was missing.

Fortunately, I have a full-time job, a big house and an acre of land that keeps me busy now that it is spring. Almost every room in the house has been repainted. I have replaced all of the couches, and removed the carpeting in two rooms and replaced it with wood flooring. One of the bedrooms is now an attractive guest room, and I am about to start work in another bedroom.

And, of course, I hike as much as I can.

Way beyond words I am thankful for the people who have joined me in my journey of healing. They allow me into their busy lives. We hike, we talk, we just do things together. I am welcomed into their homes. This is important to me. It helps me keep my sanity.

This Has Been No Accident

I am also feeling very led by God to do something more with “my story”. These blogs are no accident. Writing these thoughts on my laptop is totally a God-thing. I do not type one word without being led by Him to do so. These words, these thoughts are put down by me but are inspired by Christ. I have been feeling like I want to do more with this—-more than a blog.

This became very apparent to me last Tuesday evening. I am a member of a hiking Facebook group and I had read a post a few days prior when one of the members asked what others thought about backpacking alone. I read the answers and then went on with my day, or two or three. I do not recall.

On Tuesday evening I thought I would write my own post on that Facebook site in response and explain why I hiked alone. I wrote it in maybe 15 minutes. I included the attached photo. I did not think it was any big deal. This is what I wrote:

I recently read a post and many of its responses asking how others felt about backpacking alone in the mountains. I read it with much interest because over the last three-plus years I have done a lot of hiking alone. I fully recognize that hiking is not the same as backpacking, but several of my friends thought I was nuts (what if you run into a bear?) I did the solo hiking because I needed to be alone and to soak in the healing power of being in the mountains. My wife had left me and I was in shambles. I have adored the mountains since I was a teenager in Boy Scouts. As I walked solo, I would talk to God and allow His grace to flow through me. I would sometimes stop, view a mountain or just take in a gorgeous river, and breath in the healing power of mountain air. I would sometimes sit on a log, close my eyes, and just be. Every cell would relax. There was no other place I wanted to be……there was no other place that I should have been.

Literally within 30 seconds – probably sooner – readers started responding. The likes/loves started pouring in one right after another. It did not stop for hours. Lots and lots and lots of comments were made — all favorable. As I write this the post has received over 1,800 likes/loves and almost 200 comments. It has been shared 22 times and I have gained four Facebook friends from it.

It was stunning.

One lady wrote, “This is the best post. I needed this tonight. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mom’s suicide and I go out in nature to clear my head. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Thank you.”

Another woman responded, writing, “My favorite part of your story is ‘About those bears. I celebrated when I saw one!’ That says it all, reading your post was a beautiful poem, a prayer, and a smile. Thank you.”

There were many just like these two. 

As I stated in my previous blogs, God inspired every word in those articles. I clearly heard him guiding me. The response to this Facebook post was a clear blessing from God, encouraging me to be open to this new path. He was blessing this journey.

I do not know how it is going to look, but the Lord wants me to continue to tell my story. I am quite excited about this possibility. 

The Old Testament book of Jeremiah contains a promise from God that is well known and often quoted.  It is, however, very appropriate to quote here. I have had it posted in my home office for a few years.

“I know what I am doing. I have it all planned out, plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” Jeremiah 29:11.

Trust me —- I have held that promise close to my heart since November 2014, when this journey into hell and back again began.

It would be a lie if I said I was all good. Over the last several days I have discovered just how untrue that is.

I would suppose this is no surprise to most anyone who knows me. Maybe it deserves a loud “Well, duh, Tom.”

Since my divorce was final in December, and after three years of the God-awful separation, it would be more correct to say that these last three months have been the proverbial roller coaster. Lots and lots of highs, but more recently there have been some depths where it has been nearly impossible to breathe.

Sunday night I did not like Tom McCrady. He was a jerk.

To protect the innocent, I cannot go into great detail, but I was full of rage. Some things had happened that normally I could have easily dealt with, but not that day.  I was depleted.

I am fully aware that my timetable is not God’s timetable. This has become apparent over the last few weeks. Quite truthfully it saddens me, but even more so it pisses me off. I really, really, really hate this.

What the hell am I talking about?

My prayers for reconciliation with my former wife changed sometime after she filed for divorce.  I started to ask God for permission to remarry. I have had pastors tell me to remarry would be adultery, and I have had others tell me that in my situation that is not true. So, I went straight to God. He has not spoken to me directly regarding remarriage, but I have always felt peace. Let me elaborate – peace with the concept, but as it turns out, not with the timetable.

I signed up with eHarmony and so far have had three dates. It is a very strange, if not uncomfortable process. I do not even know how to explain it without being demeaning. It is awful to be looking at photos of ladies and making instant judgments.  It makes me question my integrity.

Back on topic. Anyone I would even consider reaching out to must: 1) have real faith in Christ (not just attend church); have a love for the mountains (such as hiking); 3) be about my age. My first date was a real eye-opener. We talked a lot via text and over the phone. Hours and hours. She was quite pretty in her online photos.  We had a real connection regarding Christian music. It was great. We made plans to meet. Then she said, “I am overweight, but I have lost 20 pounds.” It really didn’t bother me, but she did not appear to be overweight in the picture.

We met and had a really good time with great conversation.  She is a nice lady. However, it was obvious she would not be able to fulfill my hiking requirement.  The photo was not accurate. Enough said.

The other two dates were also great fun but did not go anywhere. Over time, the number of “connections” sent to me via eHarmony has dramatically dropped.

This is where emotions come to play. I have lots of great friends. But I yearn for an intimate relationship.  I miss the deep love.

I must have been insane when I imagined this process would be fun – and that it would be fast. Why wouldn’t a lady want more than just one date with me? I am a great guy, right?   I am not ugly, right? There is some attractiveness – isn’t there?

If you let it, this process could destroy your ego, your self-confidence, your self-worth. This is where you could hole-up in your house in front of the television, computer monitor, or even books and live-out other people’s lives, surrendering to a life of self-pity, aloneness, and diminished self-worth.  You could easily cry out, “No one loves me!! I am just going to eat chocolate!”

Believe me, I know that. It is an easy path to take.

Last night I was quite angry. This morning I was especially sad. A good night’s sleep brought no healing. As I prayed to my God this morning, tears leaked from my eyes. I know, I just know that it is in His plan for me to be married again.  There is no doubt.  But I also know His will also involves timing. I am absolutely sure He has hand-picked someone for me. A perfect match. It may just not be time yet. That may not make it any easier, but God’s ways are sometimes hard to understand and sometimes hard to accept.

This reminds me of my years of unemployment.  After my employer closed our local office in 2014, I bounced around from unemployment, temporary work, and a couple of other jobs. That was exceedingly humiliating, financially a struggle, and really quite horrifying. I know people hard started to wonder why I could not keep a job. My self-worth was beginning to take a beating. I had applied for my current position probably five times before the door opened for me. To this day I have no idea why God chose to wait.  I may never know. I did nothing differently. My applications were identical. Last July God opened the door. Faith, my friends, is not an easy road.

My church recently hung up a couple of banners that read “God is good all of the time”, followed by “All of the time God is good.”  It was said a couple times this past Sunday.  I would agree with that if you look at the long game. I would question it if you only look short term. Life is not all rosy as a Christian. There is a ton of crap, lots of pain, throw in some misery, and even death. A parent who loses a child is not going to smile and say, “God is good all of the time.” I did not echo those words at church on Sunday. He was not feeling especially good to me.

So here I am.  Waiting again. Different reason. This time there is an added dimension. The clock. This Friday I turn 60 years old.  In my view, that is so much older than 50. It is so close to 70. That, to me, is really approaching horrifying. I do not feel what I thought 60 would feel like.  Heck, I still hike, play tennis, and walk a lot. But that number just seems to be so old. My mind starts doing the math — OK, it takes a while to meet someone, more time to get to know them, a while longer to get married, etc etc etc. My heart – not my head – tells me I will be 80 then.

No, I do not have a happy ending here. But despite my heart crying out for companionship, there is a “deeper “magic” that is in me. That is joy. As many of you know, those are completely different from one another.  God does not give me happiness – He gives me joy. Very different. Despite my being angry, sad, lonely, and sometimes feeling like I am a loser, the joy of Christ is what sustains me. Sometimes it is by a thread, but I am still able to breathe.

“But what does it all mean?” asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer. “It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know.” – “The Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe”, Chronicles of Narnia.

It was a tough battle back in the early 1970s. As a teenager, I would often hang out in my bedroom and listen to music. The question was always what kind of a mood was I in? Would I play Grand Funk Railroad’s live album or would I listen to my “Evening With John Denver” record?

I guess it depended on if I felt rebellious or in need of a mountain-top experience.

Back in my teens, I was a member of a very active Boy Scout troop —- Troop 28. We had great adult leadership. One of those leaders formed a hiking patrol and I quickly joined. Two weekends a month I did something with the troop — hike, camp, build and sleep in snow caves, compete in the annual Klondike Derby snow sled races or compete against other troops at the annual Camporee. In addition, every summer I spent a week at summer camp.

My parents — my dad and both a natural mom and step-mother — were active adult leaders.  Two of my older brothers attained the rank of Eagle, as I did just before my 18th birthday.

The love of the mountains must be in my DNA.  My natural mom was born in a former logging town  With great reverence and love, she called it “my mountain”.  My dad was in the Air Force and we were stationed in Nebraska when my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  He asked for and was granted an emergency transfer to Tacoma so my mom could die near where she grew up. 

I loved Scouting.  I especially loved to hike. Every August we spent six days in a local

mountain range backpacking —  a 50-miler hike. We climbed mountain passes, walked through rain forests and beautiful valleys. And yes, we ate freeze-dried food.

It was glorious.

Over the years I lost track of my badges — including my 50-miler patches that had been sewn on my backpack during my scouting days. I just figured they were lost and no longer gave it much thought.

Until about a month ago.

It was shortly after my divorce was final and I was cleaning out a closet. I grabbed a worn cardboard box and placed it on the floor. I looked inside and found the slide presentations I created while serving as a youth director for a local church.  This was cool in itself. I then saw a large envelope. I opened it up, peeked inside, and nearly lost the ability to breathe for a moment.  I uttered, “Oh my,” and fell to my knees. In this envelope was my entire Scouting history. My rank and office badges, all of my merit badge cards (including some signed by my dad), and most important of all, all of my 50-miler badges.

All of the above is to fully explain why God used my feet (in addition to my daughter’s dog — see my second blog) to heal my heart from three years of separation from my wife and the eventual divorce.

What I learned quickly after the separation was that God was going to use an old love to mend a broken heart. I just felt led to walk it off.  I needed to do it alone. I needed to do it quietly. And I needed to do it a lot.

On the first day of my walking I brought earbuds and I was going to listen to music.

They were not used.  I knew, I just knew that I needed silence. There could be no distractions.  This process was all new to me. If you remember my previous blogs, I lacked much experience in real heartfelt praying. 

Before I started walking each day I took a deep breath, paused, and sometimes looked skyward, and sometimes closed my eyes.  A few times I closed my eyes and lifted my arms upward in total obedience and total surrender. I would say something like, “Lord, be with me on this walk.  Speak to me if you wish. I am yours. I am silent so I can hear from you. Bring healing to my heart, Lord, and draw me close to you so I can hear you better.”

I very much wanted to hear God’s voice.  I needed to hear His voice.  I needed instructions.  I needed comfort.

As it turned out, I did hear His voice a few times.  One day, early in my walking, after I said my prayer, He spoke to me. Very clearly He said, “It will be OK.” I heard it as if God was standing right next to me.

Many, many times, as I did the above, my heart would explode and I would sob. I realized I had been a miserable failure in my marriage as well as my relationship with Christ.  The walking and being silent before God was all about the relationship with Christ. 

Much of the walking was on two different stretches of what is known locally as Pipeline Road. I did it rain or shine.  The elements did not matter. But if time allowed I would hike trails in the local mountains. These were usually all-day adventures and brought me great satisfaction.  Being in the mountains almost made me, well, giggly.  It was like returning home —- being someplace familiar. It was like God was offering me an intimate gift. He was drawing me close and whispering in my ear, “Hey, Tom, I love you.  Go play!!”

I guess you could say I was in part walking off my pain, my misery. Some use bicycles, a swimming pool, a punching bag, or chocolate.  I used something very familiar to me. I used my feel.

Most of the time walking I was silent.  I was not consciously praying. I was simply taking one step after another. But my God is full of mystery and wonder. Somehow he used my hiking and mixed in my surrender and obedience, and over a long time healed my heart. 

 

 

 

The Christian band Third Day has it right in one of their songs:

God of wonders, beyond our galaxy

You are holy, holy

The universe declares Your majesty

You are holy, holy

So, it turns out that God used a dog I couldn’t stand and the sport of hiking that I love to bring me to my knees in surrender. Even to this day, I continue to be surprised at the wonder of His deep affection for me — that He loves me so much and that He even knows my name. Why is that?

The Christian band MercyMe asks that question so well in the first verse of their song “God With Us”:

“Who are we

That You would be mindful of us?

What do You see

That’s worth looking our way?”

The band answers that question:

“My heart sings a brand new song.

The debt is paid these chains are gone.

Emmanuel. God with us.”

God does have a sense of humor and chose to allow me to hold on to some of my youthful rebelliousness. As I am driving along in my car, you will often find me singing along to faith-based songs, some that date back to the 1970s and some are much more current.  But maybe just as often you will hear me sing to some great songs from the 1970s by Styx, Journey, Led Zeppelin, and yes, even Grand Funk.  My God is great.

Let me know if you want to join me on a hike.

My daughter said I was behaving like a high school boy. She was right.  I was actually thinking that myself.

I have dipped my toes into the boy-meets-girl world. It is making me feel a bit younger and has actually energized me.

As the divorce drew closer I started to imagine life after the death of a 29-year-old marriage. I was realizing just how crazy that was – this April we would have celebrated our 30-year anniversary. I have been married so long that I had forgotten what it was like to be single. The single world had changed and I was left way behind.

A few months ago I started to wonder what God had in store for me. Was I going to be single for the rest of my life (this would suck), or would God permit me to remarry? I started to pray about it every day. I had talked with a few pastors and counselors about remarriage. Some told me it would be adultery for me to remarry, and some said it wouldn’t be a sin. So, I chose to play the middle ground. My daily prayer to God went something like this: “God, you know the desire of my heart. You know I would like to remarry. But if you want me to be single, that is OK as well. But, Lord, if you want me to be single until I die, you really need to change my heart so that I am OK being single.”

As of today, God has done nothing to change the desire of my heart.  I have had no guilt. God has done nothing to persuade me otherwise.

So, my daily prayer now is asking God to bless my love life.  I know He will introduce to me the woman He has hand-picked to be my wife.

But this is not the 1970s or the 1980s when I was last thinking about getting married. The world has changed. We now have the internet. I jumped into the world of online dating. Egad!! This is so weird.

With the exception of my former wife, every girl or woman I dated I met through church or school. This is so very different.

With online dating, I have learned, there is a weird process. The whole getting-to-know-you is now done remotely.

I created a “profile”, answered a billion questions, added several photos, and posted it. The dating site then sends me several “matches” every day. This is where the weird, kind of uncomfortable “judging” comes in.  You look at the “match profile” that is sent to you, including sometimes several photos, answers to questions (such as do they drink or smoke, what kind of music do they like, what are their interests and priorities, their age, where they live, what are their passions, the most important quality they are looking for, last book they read, what are they most thankful for, etc etc etc etc etc.)

I really do not know how I feel about this.

One of my matches was an attractive 56-year-old woman who lives in a town about 30 miles away. Good job, beautiful eyes. I have two main must-haves — they must have a strong Christian faith and they must be active, especially a love for the outdoors. This particular woman wants someone with a Christian faith, but she included that she has a strong passion for ballroom and Latin dancing.  She goes out to dance several times a week!!

We chatted a few times online, but I do not dance. Sadly, time to move on.

I have had online conversations with several women. Before those conversations, you look at their profile, find something that is interesting and then send the person a note with a question. Hopefully, they answer back and maybe asks you a question. The idea is that the conversation goes back and forth.  Sometimes it does….sometimes it fades away.

With my online dating service, it all begins with a “smile”. If you see someone who is intriguing, you push a little button on their profile page that sends them an introductory “smile”. It is a simple way to say to them, “Hey, I saw your profile.  You look interesting.  Hello.”

Sometimes they respond with a smile, sometimes not.

Meet Lisa. She is a youngster at 51 years of age. The main photo on her profile was one of Lisa and her 19-year-old daughter. Both, in my view, were very pretty. She talked a lot in her profile about her strong faith. I sent her a smile. She responded in kind

This is where I became a teenager again.

We started off chatting using the online dating service’s website. After a few days of this, we gave each other our cellphone numbers and we started texting. Last Friday night we text from 12:03 am until 3:40 am.

The next evening she asked if we could talk on the phone instead of text. We were on the phone starting at 9:31 pm and continued for six hours.

It was when she said hello that things for me started to fall apart.

I cannot explain it still, several days later. When I heard Lisa’s voice for the first time, I knew she was not the one. I had no such feeling during all the messaging. That feeling radiated throughout every nerve fiber within me during the phone call. It was totally freaky. She did not have a weird voice, no crazy laugh. It was not the words she used or the stories she told. I just knew. I talked to her that long because I was hoping that the feeling would go away.  It did not.

Still, we had made arrangements to meet the following evening. I kept this because I wanted to meet her face-to-face and to really make sure.

So, we met at a local restaurant where we enjoyed wonderful soup and a lively chat. I gave her a single red rose. We had a good time.

My decision the night before was confirmed when we started talking about my love for the mountains.  It turns out that I had not read her profile as closely as I should have. I told her about the bears I had met during my hikes and how cool that was.  I told her about a discussion I had with a ranger at a national park to the west of my home. There is a trail there where I feel like I am being watched during the first mile. The ranger said I probably was being watched – and he was referring to cougars.

It was clear she would have none of that. Her profile makes no mention of a love for the outdoors, hiking, backpacking — none of that. She was also in no condition to do anything physical. Photographs can lie.

As I walked to the car I knew I would tell her the next day that I would not pursue a relationship.  It is my heart’s desire to find a woman who wants to share the mountains and outdoors with me.

Lisa has not responded to the text I sent.

Despite the outcome, the experience was wonderful. Lisa is a very nice person and, quite honestly, it was wonderful to be pursued. It was exciting to get to know her and to go through the whole process of building a relationship.

What is truly exciting is that I know, I just know, that God has an amazing woman out there for me. There is no room for doubt. It is also wonderful to know that I have moved on from the horrible three years of depression, gut-wrenching sadness, and overflowing tears. My Lord, my savior has cleansed me from all of that and has ushered me into a new part of my life without any reservation.

I truly wish I could preach it from every mountain top, every pulpit and street corner, that I am who I am today only because of the saving power of Christ Jesus.  I was in horrible, horrible shape for those three years. It was God who brought me out of that deep quagmire of utter despair. I would still be there if it was not for His Amazing Grace.

 

 

I am not a wuss.

The words that follow here may lead you to think otherwise.  I hope not, but, well, welcome to America and our Freedom of Thought.

Come to think of it, I am not sure that is in our Bill of Rights, but, um, I digress.

In 1989 I married someone who I have always considered to be a very strong, smart, and talented woman. I married up. Her depth of knowledge is amazing. Many times she told me that she would not have married an idiot, but in no way was I her equal intellectually. And that is OK with me — I have my own gifts.

She could play a mean guitar, sing wonderfully, and picked up playing the hammered dulcimer as if it was as simple as breathing. One day I brought home a CD of a Central American band.  She had never heard their music before this.  Standing at her dulcimer, with the hammers in each hand, she started playing with the band, anticipating what they were going to do next. It was wonderfully stunning to watch. Music was in her blood and in each cell of her body.

She grew up on the east side of our state.  Somehow through breathing in the air, drinking the water, or carefully watching others, she was able to figure things out mechanically.  She fixed things and built things.

Besides being a high school English teacher, she has a Masters in Psychology. She knew how to figure people out —- including me. Many years ago we went to marriage counseling.  The counselor immediately saw that we each had “issues” that had to be dealt with individually.  My issue — in some ways I was stuck at being 10 years old emotionally. My mom died when I was that age and I have almost no memory of my life before that age, and no memory of my mom whatsoever. Sometimes the child comes out. I am occasionally a little boy with all the trappings that come with it. Most of the time I act my age, but when the little boy comes out, it is really sad being a fourth grader again.

For most of our marriage, I accepted as fact that she was smarter than I was and knew what she was talking about. Now please, do not get me wrong.  I absolutely brought strengths to our relationship.  I was always responsible for the finances.  I paid the bills, created budgets, did the financial planning, figured out ways for us to go to Uganda twice on medical mission trips without using a penny of our monthly income. That is just one example.

As the marriage began to unravel, I took all of the blame. It was all my fault.  When she laid out why she was leaving, I put it all on my shoulders. I carried it all. I recognized that I did not treat her well, that the mistakes were mine. And yes, I was selfish.

Yes, she absolutely did some bad things.  But, they were all because I failed as a husband. At least that is what I thought at that point.

This lasted for at least a year after we separated. I lived in a lot of regrets. The weight was impossible to carry.  I failed my wife and my children.  I could not hold the family together. I dropped the ball big time on my most important responsibility. Or at least I thought so at the time.

This mindset was all because of the huge amount of respect I had for my wife’s abundance of talent. As I said earlier, I was not her equal. She could not be at fault.  I failed — not her.

Like I said in an earlier blog, music plays a big role in my life. I cannot sing.  I cannot play an instrument (but I can identify a whole note, half note, and quarter note).  I came across “Gone”, a Toby Mac song that reinforced this belief that I was completely at fault.

In part, the lyrics read:

I wanna know, wanna know what you were thinkin’

I can’t imagine why it didn’t even sink in

They say you never know what you got till it’s gone

And it continues:

She said she’s had enough

So, it sounds to me like your still out of love

And she said you weren’t true

And life’s not blowin’ her kisses thanks to you 

She said it’s gonna be alright

Cause God made a way through the pain and he opened her eyes

And she said you came crawling back

But after what you did to her she wouldn’t have any of that

The song told me that I blew it, I wasn’t true, and she ain’t coming back.

In many ways, I felt like a little 10-year-old wuss.

But, like last week’s “Aloneness” blog, this faded as well. Through the friendship, love, and generosity of friends and family and the amazing healing powers of my Lord, I managed to escape that hell. It was not easy. The comparison of grief and ocean waves is absolutely
accurate. There were times when the waves kicked my butt and I found myself swirling underwater, gasping for air.

If fault needs to be found (and I am not sure it does), I think all along I knew the weight of blame lands on both of us. I am now rediscovering the amazing healing power of love and forgiveness. I actually feel the gradual cleansing of my heart.

I wondered all along what emotion I would have when I learned the divorce was final. Would I fall to the floor in a ball and sob uncontrollably? Would I laugh nervously? Would there be no emotion whatsoever?

None of the above. It really surprised me, but I felt relieved. The three-plus years of separation was a very heavy weight to carry.  So much grief, so much sadness, so many unknowns for such a long time. Quite honestly, there were times when I cried out to God to take me Home. I wanted to die.  Not suicide. I just begged God to take me Home. I felt like such a failure. But on Dec. 18, 2018, I felt the door behind me close. That chapter of my life ended. There was now the future.  I could finally take steps forward, without having to look behind me.  The weight, that God-awful weight, was removed.

To close this blog, I must quote another song.  One of my pastors —- actually he was the pastor that married my former wife and I — introduced a song to our church that remains as one of my favorites. The lyrics speak to me like none other has. To me, it is a song of victory:

Unbounded grace, it reached to me,

When hope was gone from view.

In my despair Christ came to me

As He alone could do.           

Grace was for me the only way

my guilt could find relief.

My destiny was changed that day,

I reached out in belief

God’s grace does not on me depend,

it’s God who is my stay.

His love is offered without end.

He walks with me each day.

The universe with joy will ring,

when grace has won the day.

As all creation joins to sing,

praise God who paid the way

Until May 1, 1969, I was the youngest in a family of five.  I was 10 years old when my mother died.  Twenty-one months later my dad remarried.

I became the youngest of nine siblings.

It was difficult if not entirely impossible to be alone. We had one bathroom.

Through all those years and until November 2015, I never gave being alone much thought.  Well, that is not entirely true.  I was quite homesick during the first couple months of my college freshman year.

Aloneness became horrifying three years ago when the 2,500 square-foot house and one acre of land began to echo. To make the situation worse, I was unemployed. All I had to do was to be alone……and look for work.

As an approaching senior citizen, two things became clear:

• The vast majority of people my age are married. Their time is not their own.
• Most people my age have a job.

I was never quite sure how to balance being a pest (a leech) so I wasn’t alone, and all those hours every day of being by myself. I knew I was no longer fun to be with. I am sure the sparkle in my eyes dimmed, and my countenance was that of a dead man. For a long time, I really was rather pathetic. I thought that since the one person in this world who knows me the best, does not like me, why would anyone else like me?

Over time, my heart began to heal and I wasn’t so consumed by loneliness and self-pity. I had stopped equating being alone with being a loser. God had given me a great job, so the financial strain had lessened. I began to see some value in me.

I was then able to look long-term.  For over two years I asked God in my daily prayers for the restoration of the marriage. But as time wore on, and the time of our divorce drew near, there was no movement towards restoration.  It was so very difficult, but I had to come to terms that God is powerful enough to make something as ugly as divorce into something beautiful, something that will glorify Him. I just cannot see it yet.

I grew up with two rock bands in my family and so music has always spoken to me the most intimately. Several months before the divorce was final,  the Christian band MercyMe came out with a song that spoke exactly how I wanted to feel and believe.  The song, “Even If”, includes the verse:

I know You’re able
And I know You can
Save through the fire
With Your mighty hand
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone

It is followed by:

But God when You choose
To leave mountains unmovable
Give me the strength
To be able to sing
It is well with my soul

These lyrics spoke exactly where I wanted to be.  I totally understood that God is big on free will.  He would never force anything. He cries when a marriage falls apart.  This is not what He wants. But He certainly would never force a reconciliation. So like Bart sings in the song, even if my marriage ends, I will not lose my faith in Him and I will eventually sing again.

To be gut-wrenchingly honest, though, I am a realist and I am a planner. I look ahead. And I know who I am. I cannot imagine living the rest of my life alone. My prayers morphed from first asking God only for reconciliation (that is what I really wanted) into the last few months asking Christ if He would allow me to remarry. “Lord, it would be totally awesome if you would bring someone into my life, someone with whom I could share the rest of my life.”

I am a huge people person.  Relationships are a big priority with me.

But I kept all of this to myself. It was never a topic of discussion with any of my three adult children. My commitment was to their mom.

Keeping my thoughts to myself ended a few weeks ago when my eldest daughter and I were on a hike along a local river. We were just strolling along with her two dogs, with the river by our side, when she asked me quite out of the blue if I was going to date again.

Now, she is 27 years old.  She is no child. But it is still awfully weird and a bit uncomfortable to have this discussion with one of my children. “Hey, since my mom is no longer your wife, are you going to date?”  Now, it was a great chat.  I have no issues with it.  It just was not a discussion I ever imagined having with my kids. I fully expected to be married to her mom until death do us part.

The eldest then disclosed that she and my son, the youngest of the three, talked about this. I learned that they have no problems with me dating again. I was told that I am way too much of a people person to stay single.

Until most recently I lived in a lot of confusion about divorce and God’s will.  There are many people of faith in both camps. What does Scripture say about divorce? I have had people in both camps share their beliefs with me, including pastors and counselors. I have chosen to pray and let God lead my life.  He knows my desires.  I plead my case every day.  But I always end my prayer with, “may your will be done.” I know He will not keep my feet in the coals for the rest of my life.  If He wants me single, I am quite sure He will change my heart and I will be quite fine being single. My heart will be filled with other things. But man I would love a hiking partner!

Now, the above words were never going to make it into my blog until I read a couple of Facebook comments made by two of my peers from my old Centurylink days. One of the comments showed up Friday night after she had read my blog, and the words and the tone were amazing. She wrote in part that, ” Learning to be alone has been a journey for me” and that years later “I enjoy a dinner out alone, a long walk, a day at the market.”

I must have read her comment 10 times. It somehow resonated with me, but the above quote felt icky. I loved her note and the tone and the words. Everything. Her words were so supportive and loving. But the alone thing was icky. It was really powerful how that made me feel.

I had started this fourth blog a few weeks ago, but it never went anywhere.  Matter of a fact, I was really questioning if the last blog was going to be my last.  I just had nothing more to say. God had not spoken to me like He had with my first three.

And then this morning a second phone company friend posted, “It is a journey. I set goals for myself to do things alone. Like, go to a movie.”

I know this writer very well.  I know her story. Once I went to a movie alone. I do not want to do that again. It was weird. It isn’t that I don’t like myself. It is just that I like to share this stuff. Do I do things alone?  Absolutely.  This morning I went on a five-mile walk with “the dog” on the same route we did three years ago. Would I have preferred going with another human?  Certainly.

But the second note on FB cemented my decision to write this blog. I am still not sure why God wants this out there in cyberspace. It is not my intention to stand on the tallest hill and scream, “I am available again. Let’s date.”  God has had the reigns since that fateful day three years ago last November.  It is my intention to continue following His lead.