18 years

  My last anniversary with my wife has come and gone. Yesterday marked 18 years of marriage. Soon she will be my former wife. The ex. The one who got away. A woman I used to know.

  She sent me an email complaining that I had not started paying for my life insurance. I had forgotten to switch over that bill. She took care of the bills and I never quite had the knack for them. So, when I took mine over, I was an emotional wreck and I forgot one. Simple mistake.

  She also complained that I had put my car insurance on her credit card. Mind you, I am an authorized user and had a card. Regardless, I did it....and I meant to! I also went bowling and put that on her card! She didn't mention the bowling.

  I charged her card in a deliberate act of rebellion. I knew she would complain and I wanted her to! I paid her back for the charges and told her that I wanted to be an asshole for a day. Better than a bitch for life! Ha! I didn't say that bitch part to her, but oh boy did I want to!

  It disturbs me, this divorce stuff. I am being forced into a situation where I will no longer have feelings for the most important person in my life. As my fondness of her subsides, I worry that I will become bitter.

  Speaking of bitter...the Jews have a thing on passover where they eat bitter herbs to remind them of the years in Egypt. In my own twist on this, I think that I will .... Wow, just went morbid there. Really??!!! I was gonna set up a time annually to remember those years.

  Here is one of my more demented ideas about ways to remember. An annual ceremonial hanging of the stuffed animal frog that she bought me. (She thought it was cute and that someday I might be a prince). I could read the letters she wrote me of love and hope, while the frog gets its neck stretched. Eating those "bitter herbs" would be great. Morbid.

  Maybe I torch the damn frog. Put some sappy music under me reading her love letters. Film the whole thing and send her a tape. How do you like me now witch!

  I dunno folks. Divorce is brutal, dark thoughts come, I am comfortable with that. Seeking solace in the knowledge that this too shall pass. Like eating too much cheese, its painful but it passes.

 

 

Michael

  Michael wasn't a friend, he was barely an acquaintance, what he was was the younger (annoying) brother of my highschool girlfriend. As I entered into my junior year of highschool he was a freshman. We sort of had the same friends and we did kinda hangout. But he was always the annoying little brother.

  His wife found his body Monday morning. Suicide.

  Twenty two years of never seeing him, or thinking about him, and yet I can't imagine this ever happening. Its tragic. Why this? Why now?

  How will his wife be able to cope and grow? What trauma does this do to the kids? Will they navigate the murky waters of recovery successfully? Can some good come out of this?

  I have compassionate thoughts for his family. I grief for his family. Somehow, somebody please go help.

  Somehow I find within myself a tiny sense of relief. I know its messed up in a dark way, but finding out that I'm not the only one who went down the road of destruction brings an eerie comfort. Listen closely, I am not at all happy with their trauma. It is just that I didn't know people had problems, at least more than superficial problems. I felt alone in a world of normal people, this helps change that.

  I want to be careful. I have no idea if he was plagued by mental issues, addictions, or any such thing. I just wish I had a crystal ball that I could have seen the future and gotten help. I wish I somehow could have known the pain of life and been more helpful...sooner.

  So I take a moment to think about Michael. I have no clue how he got to such despair. Frankly, I don't care how he got there. My heart breaks for him and his family. Such pain and sorrow.

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter

  Peter and I go way back. He was a fisherman, a fighter, and very opinionated. He had a bad case of foot in mouth disease. He was brash and temperamental. He was a passionate bear of a man.

  I relate to Peter because I am all of those things, and more. I liked it when he would argue with Jesus. I enjoy the accounts of his betrayal. I marvel at him when he naval gazes while Jesus offers to forgive him. I am shocked that he didn't ask the writers of the new testament to not include all his blunders. I suppose that he wasn't worried about his reputation, rather he just wanted to give his sworn testimony. Still, I would have told Matthew not to write that slanderous stuff, Peter didn't.

  Easter was a time of torment for Peter. He spent the previous couple of days telling Jesus that Jesus was wrong about everything. He vowed to fight to the end for this political messiah that he thought he was promised. When that failed, he disavowed any knowledge of Jesus and cursed at him. He watched all his dreams of the previous 3 years die on a cross. He was a man of guilt and shame, and he had lost his way.

  Some time before Easter Peter was on a mountain with the boys when he saw Jesus transfigured. This scene of Jesus in all his Majesty was so powerful that Peter wanted to erect a church right on the spot! It says that he had no idea what to say, so he said the church thing. Silly boy.

  But that's me. Moments of great growth or spiritual understanding are wonderful, but I often want to capture the lightning. I want to freeze joy and suck ever last drop out of it. I try and box God in.

  This relationship with God is a wild thing. He is an untameable God. He chooses the whacky and downhearted to display power.

  As I reflect on the events of the first Easter and how Peter reacted, I consider my own shortcomings. I am not a good representative of Christ. I run away and hide when things get tough. I deny even knowing Him. I run away and go back to work. Just like Peter.

  I am so grateful that none of this relationship relies upon me. I can't be good enough to merit any favor from God. I can't be bad enough to overpower the forgiveness bought at the cross.

  Happy Easter

Misogyny

  I always kinda figured I was somewhat misogynistic. Growing up I never could relate to females and I figured they were just impossible to know. As my body matured into a man, my mind remained juvenile. Never trying to explore this reality, I objectified women.

  I just finished reading the definition of misogyny. Primarily it is defined as hatred of women. Now I'm not so sure I was misogynistic. Sure, pornography can be viewed as hatred towards women. Objectifying women can be taken as hateful. But I still reject the idea that I hated them.

  And now I attempt to explain why without having a hail of verbal gunfire head my way.

  I simply wasn't capable of properly talking with women. It didn't draw from a deep seated hatred or resentment, I was just an awkward goof. Heck, I'm not even sure if I had anything worthwhile to talk about. If I did I didn't know how.

  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't blame women and I never have. My emotional capabilities were stuck somewhere in the stone ages. Eating and having sex seemed like a pleasant enough future.

  I wasn't even capable of sharing with a woman that all I wanted was sex. Instead I would try and lure them in with promises of friendship and devotion, only to be turned away after a short while. It was brutal. The times I did share that all I wanted was sex, I got the sex, but I felt queasy about it.

  My wife married that freak. That selfish and confused little boy tried to play house. What a mess that became!

  My wife read all the, "Be nicer to your husband so he won't be such an ass", books put out by the christian women. I'm sure there are witch's who need to hear that, my wife didn't. She needed something more like, "Don't put up with his bull, go seek help".

  But few people will seek the help. The shame about what was going on, the despair of hope, conspire to make one isolated.

  My poor wife. We began with such promise. A small wedding by the pastor who had counseled us, and a desire to raise our kids in a godly household, all came crashing down upon the rocks of addictions.

  I am infinitely more capable of being real today. I carefully dissect emotions and ways to express them. I allow for others to share theirs. Women are no longer simply sexual objects, they are vibrant and intelligent.

  I have two therapists. Both are female. Both are well thought out and quite articulate. They have insights into life I could have never dreamed even existed. I am a blessed man to have been given an opportunity at emotional growth.

  My hairy knuckled pursuit of zaftig women in peril is on hold. I need to become an emotionally mature man first. Confidence is not maturity.

 

 

Sister visiting

  Dad has liver cancer. I had no idea the diverse emotional challenges that could present. The latest one to present would be my sister wanting to visit him this summer. I shiver at the thought.

  I spoke with him about this last week. Not the shivering part, the part about her wanting to visit! I offered to pay half her way and let her have use of my car while she was in town. He grumbled a bit about seeing if he could afford it and said he would get back to me. He likes the idea of her coming, grumbling notwithstanding.

  In the interim week I have thought some more about it. I have lots of concerns for my sister visiting. Would my dads money make him feel entitled to critique her life? Will she be comfortable staying with him? Will she regress into the neglected little girl? Heavy stuff.

  He called me yesterday and asked if he could talk to her about visiting. He wants to work out the details with her. I was somewhat offended.

  I wanted to broker the deal. I wanted to deftly navigate the emotional quagmire of the past and clear a path for a great visit. I wanted to discuss with him how he could make her more comfortable. I wanted to carefully construct the "perfect visit" for her. Is she capable of visiting him and not being hurt?

  Oh man. Why do I get worked up in a lather over my dad? I have figured out how to relate to him. I know how to defend myself when talking to him. Defend myself!!!! Unpack that a bit.

      "Hey Josh, how are you and your dad getting along?"

      Great, I think he loves me, I know how to defend myself.

      "........"

      Why are you staring at me?

  Yep. As sad as it may seem, defending myself is something I had to learn in order to be aware of his love. The attacks I feel were sometimes just his way of trying to care. Also, part of becoming a man is sparring with dad.

  Back to my sis. I don't want her to have a difficult visit. I don't want her to feel trapped. Free time to relax when visiting family is important to me, so I wanted her to be able to go have fun in the city.

  It hit me yesterday that I don't have to rescue her. I offered to help financially. My car can be borrowed. What more am I responsible for? Nothing! Woohoo!

  A massive burden dropped off my shoulders. My sisters relationship with dad is not my issue. Not that I don't have concern, I just don't have ownership. I am set free from that.

  Its been a long journey out of codependency. Turns out that love allows others to experience pain. We can help process, we can help mediate, but we can't dictate.

The anxiety I felt about this is lifting. Maybe without all the anxiety and stress I can be present.