%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
One man's journey to find the way home |
|
I am an American Baptist ordained minister. I began my life journey in Massachusetts, where I was called to help people understand what it meant to know a loving God. The call came during a time when I was wrestling with how to help my brother Kurt, who was diagnosed with Schizophrenia during my high school years. I was a new Christian by my senior year following trying to understand what it meant for me to care about a person like my brother who others tended to stay away from. After twenty three years in Massachusetts, God sent me to the land of Kansas City where I spent about 35 years of my life. I was a pastor, a resident chaplain, a supervisor in training and most recently a caregiver and security. Everything I have done vocationally has been with God in mind. That does not mean that I am totally comfortable with all the movings of the Spirit. I am now in Erie where I do not know very many people. I came here because of my wife. She is from Erie and coming here was the right thing to do. It just plain made sense. My kids had grown up. I did not like Kansas city in terms of climate and was looking forward to a change. I had become very frustrated vocationally and longed to come to Erie to get a second opinion, because I honestly believed that was what God had wanted for me. I left behind kids and grandkids who I loved!!!! I had two jobs that I enjoyed. They were both very appreciative of my skills and I was making more money with the two jobs than I ever had. I heard more than once. ARE YOU CRAZY? Well I can only say that I am in love with God's leading. I am starting all over again. It has not been easy. Maybe some of you can offer me some words of support. I am lonely despite the fact my wife is with me. She battles depression and has two siblings that are having similar battles. When it is all said I am in a depressed community with a depressed wife and her family. So I begin the conversation.... WELCOME!! |
| My life seems to be littered with unconventional calling and what I do about it seems to have infinite consequences. When I was in grade school I was with a peer who had drawn a star, something I could not do at that young age. A deacon seized on the moment to provide a teachable moment. The person who drew the star had gone into the background, whereas I was all ears enjoying the attention. Maybe God saw in me what I could not see. I could not draw the star and that made me feel inferior and yet I longed to hear the message about the star and somehow that was enough and it left me longing to learn more about God's ways and why they even mattered. At the age of thirteen I was very interested in God and yet felt somehow inferior. I had been in special education much of my time in elementary school. I recall reading a lot of religious books for grade school age even when I might be considered too old to bother with it. I especially recall an event where I got lost, cried out to God and God came to my rescue. I was hopeful. Maybe God had a reason for my life. I wanted to share the story with adults in attendance, but chose not to because they were treating me as careless and in kind of dumb for getting lost in the first place so I kept the message to myself. As I got older my interest in God grew or maybe it was God's interest in me. I loved watching Billy Graham, Rex Humbard, Oral Roberts and others and prayed with them as a youth for peace of mind and salvation, yet did not want to branded as stupid so kept it to myself. I did pray a lot, because it seemed like the right thing to do and it made me feel connected to God and want to know more. Finally in high school I was given a major paper to do in honors history class. My topic involved determining whether God existed using people like Acquinas and Anselm for proof. I passed the paper in and got a good grade. It was much different than what others chose for projects. At this point I was being asked if I was pastor material. I was not really sure. I did the rational thing for myself, joining a pastors class without discussing my desire with my parents (after all would they even understand). I gave my life over to God and was baptized, a tall young man with several young girls a lot younger than me. Shortly after that I was asked to preach on youth Sunday, because a friend of mine and his family had a falling out with the church. My first sermon detailed God's calling to me long before I became a member. God was real and I felt wanted me to do something and be somebody. It was the first time I recall having a voice. The church longed to hear what no one else wanted to hear. I had many meetings with a teacher who taught biology, was my tennis coach, driver ed. and eventually taught me in Sunday school. He encouraged me to go to a Christian college he attended, so I did, even though in honesty I always felt way behind everyone who attended. I knew right or wrong I wanted to be a preacher and yet was that what God wanted. I recalled being impressed by another youth who spoke out for God in a secular environment. I longed to do the same. My manner of sorting it out was taking courses to see for myself. I hungered to learn more about God and faith. |
| My life seems to be littered with unconventional calling and what I do about it seems to have infinite consequences. When I was in grade school I was with a peer who had drawn a star, something I could not do at that young age. A deacon seized on the moment to provide a teachable moment. The person who drew the star had gone into the background, whereas I was all ears enjoying the attention. Maybe God saw in me what I could not see. I could not draw the star and that made me feel inferior and yet I longed to hear the message about the star and somehow that was enough and it left me longing to learn more about God's ways and why they even mattered. At the age of thirteen I was very interested in God and yet felt somehow inferior. I had been in special education much of my time in elementary school. I recall reading a lot of religious books for grade school age even when I might be considered too old to bother with it. I especially recall an event where I got lost, cried out to God and God came to my rescue. I was hopeful. Maybe God had a reason for my life. I wanted to share the story with adults in attendance, but chose not to because they were treating me as careless and in kind of dumb for getting lost in the first place so I kept the message to myself. As I got older my interest in God grew or maybe it was God's interest in me. I loved watching Billy Graham, Rex Humbard, Oral Roberts and others and prayed with them as a youth for peace of mind and salvation, yet did not want to branded as stupid so kept it to myself. I did pray a lot, because it seemed like the right thing to do and it made me feel connected to God and want to know more. Finally in high school I was given a major paper to do in honors history class. My topic involved determining whether God existed using people like Acquinas and Anselm for proof. I passed the paper in and got a good grade. It was much different than what others chose for projects. At this point I was being asked if I was pastor material. I was not really sure. I did the rational thing for myself, joining a pastors class without discussing my desire with my parents (after all would they even understand). I gave my life over to God and was baptized, a tall young man with several young girls a lot younger than me. Shortly after that I was asked to preach on youth Sunday, because a friend of mine and his family had a falling out with the church. My first sermon detailed God's calling to me long before I became a member. God was real and I felt wanted me to do something and be somebody. It was the first time I recall having a voice. The church longed to hear what no one else wanted to hear. I had many meetings with a teacher who taught biology, was my tennis coach, driver ed. and eventually taught me in Sunday school. He encouraged me to go to a Christian college he attended, so I did, even though in honesty I always felt way behind everyone who attended. I knew right or wrong I wanted to be a preacher and yet was that what God wanted. I recalled being impressed by another youth who spoke out for God in a secular environment. |
| I celebrate that recovery is a reality. God equipped somebody to help me. Going forward I pray that I might equip others as God helped me. Sun House was a big part of it. I felt real lost as I was cast out of the hospital with others in the name of mental health reform that sought recovery in the context of community. I am glad for the vision. There was a manager named Declan Smith who had great expectations of me and others. He was what I needed, a woman could not of done the job, I had been hurt too much in the past to trust. In time I would get counselling to heal the wounds. Healing takes time. Recovery taught me I was a poet, a good worker, a cook, a problem solver and friend. And with support I became the minister I longed to be. There is hope. I pray God uses me to help others recover hope. How will this happen? Only time will tell. |
| A long time ago I found myself in a residential facility called Sun house. I can not help wondering if there is something I can learn from it all, as I work less in residential at Whitney Way wondering sometimes if I matter since I can't give as much as I did at one time. In the seventies I was in an awful place. It was called Taunton State Hospital. I recall it today as a place I never should have gone. Even today I am scarred from what happened there. Sun house was my hope, although let's be clear not a place I chose to be in. I longed to go home, the place I was at before being hospitalized. It never happened! So I needed a place to find myself to recover what I wanted out of life, except without the help of mom and dad who for whatever reason were nowhere to be found. My siblings were not around either. You grow up in a world where family is a constant and it is replaced. I was depressed as hell would I even survive? At some point you just decide that you are going to hang on for the ride. My earliest memory at Sun house was not a very good one. I had a room mate who just happened to be gay. It was not a room mate I chose. We hardly talked. I can only guess he was in a dark place, because I would find out in a talk around a table in the kitchen area that my roommate Richard (I still recall his name), had tried to commit suicide. Then I heard words that still sting, from a young woman who was a former resident. "I would rather be with Richard in hell than with you in heaven." Obviously she knew I was studying to be a minister even if I never broadcasted it. So it was at this point I woke up in a manner of speaking. Hey this woman did not even know me! Thus began a quest to understand what it means to be a minister that continues to this day. So who do I give my life to? Do they need to meet certain conditions? Hey it says in the Bible that Jesus died for us even while we were yet sinners. And yet the struggle for truth continues. Let's be real. There are some staff and residents I like more than others. Yet does that mean I give my life any less to those I might call my friends than enemies. A good place to start. What do you think? Where do you live and who would you give your life for? |
| Well I get up and I am having diarrhea and it does not want to stop and then Sharon to top it off vomits all over herself and the couch. She also has the runs. It was founded in the news of admitting she no longer wants to drive. Getting old is difficult. So much gets taken away, then what's left? |
| I long to know. I hear the word from my wife you have not paid attention to me all day. It is like a puzzle longing to be solved. Amidst time I take the dog for a walk and my eating lasagna and watching a bit of tv, we don't seem to enjoy the same shows. I have been accused with completely ignoring my wife. When I ask what this means I am told "you should know". I am left on a desert Island. Too many hours spent my own pursuits. "What about us?" I will not win the argument. I walk a lot, I read, I attend my various teams a I work strange hours, even if not much. I need to learn the language of wivery, before I die. It is an occupational hazard and the words "go to hell" sting. |
| It is all about knowing how to get the best shots. That is the secret of life. It is feeling the energy and engaging the mind. And this work can happen and I can know my gift spiritually. My goal is to review three articles, write a poem or short story and run one to two miles and look at a devotion out of streams in the desert. It has been a great day. Tomorrow will be better. |
| Happy birthday to my sister Lori. There is much to be thankful for. How do I get to Santa Barbara that is the biggest question. It is quite the ordeal. |
| Grand theft auto. I feel like my feelings are being held captive. I watch my wife struggle. It is past annoying. Physically I max out, spiritually and mentally I feel like I am going bankrupt. I need to read 25 pages of something and reading a chapter in the Bible and commenting on it would not be 😔 bad. I set myself up for failure. Look at how much I am making at work and what portion of my life is an exercise. The demon in the exorcism can only be cast out when I greet the oncoming demons with a word from God and reading intellect that says let me think about it. All the way back to Joseph, the dreamer. I want to get along, but who will let me. I let go and let God and in the end I am looking to be church as I let others know they can find and be church with or without me. |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
