Saturday: Book Segment #3

August 24, 2005
“Give it away.”

I struggle trying to capture and respond to the interactions I am experiencing with Valerie. The familiar warmth that burns slowly blue in her eyes is absent. They are wintry. Vacant. Somewhere far away remain the remnants of wounds I inflicted; dishonor, mistrust, deceit. Their presence moans, haunting the surroundings like wind shivers peeling across the splinters of an abandoned home. Jim’s counsel is that I must allow these feelings to “live in me” as a part of the “wilderness process”. He says I don’t deserve warmth or understanding right now. So, the parasite burrows deeper. The ache spreads like an infection. The concept of losing my wife is tragic; the idea of losing my best friend is intolerable. Maybe that’s the point; that I need to be a man and seek forgiveness, loving her without expecting anything in return. As Jim has said from the beginning of the separation, “My wish for you both is that you go through this well. Wander. Experience. Trust faith. Then we’ll see if your faith really has legs.”

It is difficult to hurt and trust at the same time.

Somewhere in the warm flesh of my emptiness, the parasite pauses, its belly full. And then it eats on.

August 30, 2005

Taking a Vacation: Exactly 30 Days of Separation

• 30 days
• 720 hours
• 43,200 minutes
• 2,592,000 seconds

But, who’s counting?

I’ve avoided writing. I’m not exactly sure why, but I’ve certainly been avoiding writing anything for the last three weeks. Probably because I was coming up on my scheduled vacation time. Taking seven whole days to do…nothing. Friends queried with the standards like, “So, where are you going for your vacation? To the mountains to cool off? Tropical island for some snorkeling? To San Francisco to be with your kids? A long drive to the gulf?” Actually, the answer is nowhere. No, I’m staying put. This will be the first time in six years since we’ve…oops…I’ve taken a vacation without family. Just for relaxation. Reflection. Actually, I have never spent a week completely alone. So here’s the picture as I framed it: Me, Bentley )my miniature dapple Dachshund), the one bedroom apartment, some books, some movies, some painting, some walks, music, intermittent beers, a round of golf, maybe even a few conversations with some of my friends. And then there’s this sense that God wants this time to be spent with Him – just the two of us. One-on-one. Hang time with the Big Guy. OK, I know some of you might be wondering if I’m going to say that I heard this big, deep voice that sounds curiously James Earl calling my name in the middle of a meeting. Or maybe that I saw a word formation in the foam of my Starbucks half-caff grandé latte with a little cinnamon powder looking a bit like Mother Teresa. Truth is, ever since we made the decision to do the separation, I hear whispers in the unlikeliest ways; pennies found on the street, an errant cool breeze through the trees, a passage in a book, the first tune that plays when I hit “shuffle” on my iPod, an empty corner in my heart, gauzy arms reaching out to hold me from a cloud formation….

*…an aside: Here’s a brief commentary about Jim’s Rules of Non-Engagement [RNE]: For anyone is considering doing the separation route let me share a bit of ambiguity with the rules. Cardinal Sin #1: ABSOLUTELY NO CONTACT EXCEPT THE WEEKLY SESSIONS. Unless it is something that only the other person can answer, it will have major financial ramifications, it is an emergency involving kids or family, or in the unlikely event that you have burst into flames and the other person has the only extinguisher in the universe. Otherwise such contact might imply to the other person that this was, in fact, a gesture towards re-engagement. This implies that a call about the bank balance might be an act of “passive-aggressive hoping”, of which we are absolutely forbidden. Implies making a too early decision. Implies taking a too early position. Might mean we are not respecting the “rules of non-engagement”. If we find ourselves in the heat of a panicked moment we must flip to our handy RNE laminated card stating clearly in Rule #4 that we must not call each other or send an email unless we have asked ourselves three times, minimum, whether we REALLY need to make this contact. “What is the hidden agenda behind the message about the deposit into your account this month?” I must consider what devious, manipulative, male-centered ploy is behind the “can I drop off Bentley at 7:00, or would 8:00 be better for you?” This “three times maneuver” immediately brings up images of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz listening intently to the “Witch-of-Whichever-Direction-Wearing-White-Taffeta-and-Floating-in-on-a-Glowing Orb” telling Dorothy to “Just click your heels three times and just like that you will be home. And ToTo too!” In my case after the three clicks, I only feel guilt. Beware.

*…Continued.

So I decided to take the promised week off after a long period of traveling, dealing with all the emotions and events building up to and following July 20^th, the day the new owners took possession of our home. The day we went our separate ways. Trying to give some order to my time off, here’s the way the list stands:

• Relax
• Visit the Frist Art Museum
• Relax
• Watercolor
• Write
• Take long walks with Bentley
• Pray
• Relax
• Go to the doctor for some periodontal work (fun)
• Work on a budget (fun)
• Relax
• Lay by the pool
• See some movies
• Play golf
• Pray
• Relax
• Speak to God
• Read “light” stuff (Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis)
• Listen to God
• Think about the future
• Don’t think about the future
• Don’t think about business
• Don’t think
• Listen
• Hear
• Relax
• Shorten this list

Vacation Day One:

It becomes rapidly evident that the list of all the things I want to make “right” about my life this vacation is insurmountable…alone. Try as I might to do all the right stuff, make the right moves, say the right things, pray the right prayers, hang out with the right people, seek wisdom and guidance from the right mentors I am fairly inept. Try as I might to get it “right” I fall short. It’s sort of like waiting for that proverbial ship to come in, but you’re at the bus terminal sitting and watching the homeless man on the opposite side of the room, hunched over like the crinkled Styrofoam cup he holds in his leathered hands. He drifts away, intoxicated by the sandy coffee vapors washing up on the warm beach of his memories.

You know “guy thing” tendency of trying to get it right on your own terms, not trusting and listening to God, is so biblically sound. I mean come on, how many times did Jesus have to explain the same things, over-and-over, to the disciples…and STILL they didn’t get it? Can’t you just hear him after the twelfth time saying, “OK…I’m going to tell you mahtzoh-brains one more time…” We read the Old Testament. New Testament. We listen to Oprah. Matt Lauer. Ralph Nader. Larry King. Wolf Blitzer (I want his name) We’re a cast of characters playing real-life versions of Dumb and Dumber. Same plot, same scenes, different mahtzoh-brains.

So, here I was walking this morning to get an iced coffee and a dog biscuit, the biscuit being for Bentley at our favorite coffee shop, and to sit and read C. S. Lewis. By the way, these items are on my vacation list! I was listening to the third part of a 4-part teaching series on my iPod. The message was very clear; the narrator is remembering all the times when her mentor would tell of situations, moments when she did not know how she would be able to eat, or deal with a potentially dangerous situation. One such instance happened when she had to share God’s unconditional love with a 15-year-old male inmate serving time for brutally assaulting a woman. She surrendered to moment to God’s prompting. “I just turned it over to the Lord, and He took care of everything. Can you beat that?” The narrator then transitions to a commentary about her own struggles, her attempts to get it right, not trusting God enough to do what He has promised, in covenant, to provide…if we would just simply believe. It was all very sensible. And then she mentioned that her mentor always reminded her that the only way to really listen to what God wants us to hear in any situation, or how to deal with this or that problem, or how to respond to whatever challenge we are facing…is simply to spend time alone with Him. “You’ve got to learn to inquire of the Lord. If you have a question, you just need to sit and listen. You must spend time alone with God. How else will you know?”

I stopped on the sidewalk. My body surrendered. I was undone.

And I knew I would spend this time alone. And not.

Question for dialogue (or dialog if you prefer): Do you recall a time when you took a "vacation" with God, aka sanctuary, sitting still, quiet time, reflection, disconnection to connection? Would you be willing to share one characteristic or takeaway other "messys" might value?

Right, I know it's not Wednesday!

OK...I missed my post promise for Wednesday. Fact is that I am in St. Louis at a leadership conference for the EFCA, and although my heart was goin' & blowin'...my brain was slowin' & towin'. So, a day later slightly more energy, here's my response to the comments both posted and emailed:

• You all seem to support and respond to the tonality of the book writing style: honest, raw, transparent, real;
• I am very encouraged by the many people who have made comments like, "I am eager to read what comes next," and "I feel like I can digest what's been written, reflect on it and then get ready for the next chapters";
  
• The length of the segment posting feels right to people;
• You all feel like I need to let up on myself a bit...well, as said before I am in a better place today than where I was when this was written. And OK, I know some of you are saying I still ahve a tendency to minimize myself.... Accepted. And do not ever want to forget that my "I" is minute in the bigger mosaic. As a matter of fact I think we'd all have a better chance of moving ahead if we'd consider getting out of our own way;
• Everyone thinks Bentley looks great in glasses.

So, here's the major thing I will leave you wit that I have experienced as of this date:
QUESTION: Let me hear from you why you think some people have chosen to send my emails with very poignant, humble, transparent, honest sharing of feelings about some aspect of the writing. How this or that thought reminded them of their own masks or mirror images. Hurts. Struggles. Encouragement to see me exhibit courage to.... And, when I ask them why they didn;t post the comment, they reply, "I did not feel comfortable being so honest in public." Hmmm...I am public! Why trust me? Why not consider that anyone who HAS commented is likely feeling many of the same things I am...or they are feeling? I am not safe (whatever "safe" means).

So, what do you really risk if you share it...and what do you risk if you don't.

tyhi (there you have it)

B&B

Saturday's Next Segment of INbetween

July 3, 2006

God must have created Red Bull.
[Three weeks before we close on the sale of our home and move to separate locations.]

Thank you for Red Bull, Lord.

OK, so I know this sounds a bit casual for my first entry, but I have made an important self discovery. One of the few places I find solace these days is at Borders with my quintet of new pals; a can of Red Bull, a highly recommended cheese-stuffed warm pretzel, a tall latte, my laptop and the stack of work that has piled up over the weeks. This is the kind of escape offering a few “energized” and “inspired” hours where I can escape the pain and loneliness. Being alone in our home during this time before the actual physical move and full-throttle “therapeutic separation” is rough. As an aside, the term “therapeutic” still makes me chuckle. What does that actually mean, anyway – blot tests, watching The Story of Us, ropes work, group hugs, Timothy Leary readings?

The idea of actual physical separation from Valerie is shattering. If I am not careful when I am alone in the house, I allow myself to wander in routine late afternoons, anticipating our typical evening. Then it hits me again. Menacing. Indelible. So, I look for places and moments to hide from the ache, where I can escape the faint whispers from lost conversations that bend through the hallway. I hear her soft giggling during phone calls. Her special little noises and expressions. Our kids going…coming…going…. Holidays. Intimacies. Yhatzee. Crackling fires. Seeing the Purple Bunting on the bird feeder that single day each summer. The August firework displays of lightning igniting the raven sky .

The screen of my mind went black.

I move in and out of these separating moments, images that punish as if being tied and quartered. Last night I thought it might be a good step towards reconciliation to share some dinner. I began with, “We won’t talk about the issues. We’ll leave those for our 1-hour weekly sessions with Jim (our counselor of ten years). Just an innocent steak, salad, maybe a potato and some light chatting.” Harmless. She responded, “As long as you don’t think this means we might not be going ahead with the separation.” Not a good plan.

The screen of my mind went black.

Instead, I bought a roasted chicken. Made two salads. Divided two portions. I left one plate behind in the kitchen. I took my plate on the bed tray and retreated to the bedroom, put on my headphones, and started the movie Coach Carter on my laptop. On the START menu, images of the film and menu options came onto the screen with the voice of Coach Carter asking, over and over, one question in the background: “What is your greatest fear?” “What is your greatest fear?”

The screen of my mind went black.

I remembered that there was one more can of Red Bull left in the refrigerator for tomorrow. I sighed. I fell asleep.

August 24, 2005

“Give it away.”

I struggle trying to capture and respond to the interactions I am having with Valerie. The familiar warmth that burns slowly blue in her eyes is absent. They are wintry. Vacant. Somewhere far away remain the remnants of wounds I inflicted; dishonor, mistrust, deceit. Their presence moans, haunting the surroundings like shivered wind peeling across the splinters of an abandoned home. Jim’s counsel is that I must allow these feelings to “live in me” as a part of the “wilderness process”. He says I don’t deserve warmth or understanding. So, the parasite burrows deeper. The ache spreads like an infection. The concept of losing my wife is tragic; the idea of losing my best friend is intolerable. Maybe that’s the point; that I need to be a man and seek forgiveness, loving her without expecting anything in return. As Jim has said from the beginning of the separation, “My wish for you both is that you go through this well. Wander. Experience. Trust faith. Then we’ll see if your faith has legs.”

It is difficult to hurt and trust at the same time.

Somewhere in the warm flesh of my emptiness, the parasite pauses, its belly full. And then it eats on.

To Consider for dialogue: 1. Can you think of a moment when that "gnaw" in your stomach joined you for dinner? How long before it bit did you know it was coming, and still let it in? Why do we do that???

2. Is this book segment offering a good length for once a week? Should each week's offering be longer?

Wednesday takeaways and questions

Wow. The initial response has been humbling. Thanks to each of you who have read and/or read and commented. I am finishing my day's work and will be back shortly to honor my commitment to write each Wednesday and Saturday. Be back shortly.

Messy Me

I am back. So, considering this is still very new to me, I thought I'd take this time to give you what my takeaways are from the responses I have received:

• I am pleased and encouraged by some of the comments supporting the idea behind this process of sharing dialogue, moving to a final version of the book. (By the way, can someone tell me their opinion on the proper spelling for "dialogue" or "dialog". Both are correct, and a fellow cave dweller told me, "No, Brian. DIALOGUE is not the current way people use the word. " So, embracing that I might not be "in" most of the time these days, what is the group opinion please.)
• I am reassured and affirmed that some people have already chosen to open up as far as their own life struggles. I will continue to offer safety and hope this will be a safe home for your heart.
• OK...I hear and receive all the comments about less self-berating. Here's the deal. That's what I felt when I was deep in the mud. It was how I felt. And, having come through to this next part of the wanderings, I must be truthful in saying I never want to believe I have it figured out or that I can do this alone. Doing it alone was the backpack of boulders I carried most of my life. I know now that I did it to protect myself from everything and everyone that might hurt me --- it also effectively isolated me from everything and everyone that might help me.
  
• It feels like people are willing to lean into all the emotions that lay ahead in the chapters that follow.
  

So, here's the questions I ask for your thoughts, as this is "our" blog and as such I want it to be the best version it can be:

1. Do you like the idea of my answering as many, if not all the comments?
2. Do you like the questions I added at the end of each?
3. Do you think my plan of adding another segment of the book each Saturday is a good idea?
4. I am hoping to keep each post about this length, seeking to keep them short enough that people will actually read them. Good length.

That's it for now. Let me know your opinions, and feel free to offer any others you feel would be of value to this experience.

Living the ink -- BK

Writing INbetween

Then it became clear to me through a quiet, gentle voice: "You may have authored the book, but the people who drift into and out of your life, like colorful leaves mingling in the breeze of autumn dialects, are the ones who are helping edit your story with the ink of their lives. Invite them to join you."

And so, I am venturing into an undiscovered country: Blog. And I invite you to join me as a fellow explorer and spelunker searching the gems to illuminate the cave.

This is how it happened and why I am putting this story out there: Last year I finished writing the first draft of my first book, titled INbetween, My year of walking in separation. It is a journal-type journey triggered by the separation from my wife of 25 years, Valerie. But it was much more than I could have ever imagined, and it is continuing each day ever since.

Writing a book was always a goal, albeit not at all my original dream of writing a children's book. Still it happened, now four years and a lifetime ago since that late July afternoon when we walked our separate ways into the desert. For those of you who know the outcome, please read on and try NOT to give the ending away. For those of you who do not know the outcome of the separation read on, because here's the idea behind this blog: I am going to try something outside the margins of the coloring paper, the idea of which came after a day of personal retreat two weeks ago. A day of reading the Bible, quiet reflection, prayer and great tunes! As a man of faith, the Messy Messianic Jew as my friends know me, I heard the following (depending on your faith point-of-view this might also be delivered as a whisper, sense, feeling, cloud formation, image in your latte foam, etc.) : "Why not invite the people in your life to co-edit and write the final text with you? They are the characters. And each of you are but a chapter, a page, a sentence, a word, a drop of ink in My eternal story." So, who am I to argue?

Here's the deal which I submit to each of you in considering whether to join me in this big sandbox (thanks T.J.) to play & share with me and others:

• I wrote this book from a place in my spirit as a way to deal with the deepest and and most enduring levels of pain and hurt and brokenness and discovery and joy I I have experienced in my life;
• I do not have a plan nor desire for commercial gain from writing this book;
• I have a passion to share the parts and pieces of my journey with men and women who have and/or are experiencing the challenges trying to come out from behind the masks we all wear to some extent (even though many of you will not admit it...yet), performing scenes of good intentions, strong efforts, achievement and the like;
• We all have questions about life with which we struggle. We don't know where to go, who to ask, who to trust and in those moments cry out to God for help through the pain and confusion;
• I do not have answers, just one man's story of walking in between the dark...and the light;
• I have mentioned to people close to me that part of my life's ministry is a desire to teach and be taught by like-hearted wanderers;
• The book is written in journal format, revealing to me the chance to offer it up in consumable bites, allowing for open feedback about: style, content, awkwardness, flow...and most importantly themes, issues, life experiences, struggles, awakenings, reconciliations, failures, joys, letting go, letting in, growth, faith, life, God;
• I have given the full manuscript (57 pages) to 12 people, and 4 have given me input -- THE REALITY IS that people people have the best intentions, they just do not have time trying to balance life in our ADD society. I think small bites is possibly the way to go;
• I do not want to send this to a professional editor, because I want it to carry the way and feel for the way it was written, keeping some of the flaws; after all, we live as imperfect beings, and no matter how many rounds of edits we try we will never in this world get it right. And I DO want it to be readable;
• Imagine a sandbox. Remember digging pirate tunnels and using colorful plastic toys for building Camelot castles? There are four sides built to keep the sand from spilling out all over the place. Now, imagine those four walls being the guidelines for your participation with me: 1) HONESTY, 2) SHARING, 3) TRUST, 4) FUN;
• I will do my best to encapsulate the comments and move to revised chapters, initially trying it in blocks of every thirty (30) days;
• It will be done, when it is done. I trust each of you and God to light our path;
• How many people will read it, try it on, share it with others, be impacted is out of my hands. Exactly where it is meant to be.

That's the deal. It may be the most hair-brained idea I have had to date. OK, my idea for "My Friend Sticka" probably remains in the #1 position. I might not get more than 5 people to play with me in the sand of words. Maybe none. But, I am putting it out there. I am spilling my ink stains onto the pages that follow. I am surrendering control. I am taking just the next step forward. I commit to write Wednesdays and Saturdays (this is not easy, mind you) because you are worth it, and the story and it's hopeful impact is worth it. I pray to God that He will open discussions among us. That we will be transparent and open with our feelings. That we can help each other be better versions of ourselves. That we will come to know each other a little better, and maybe even know God a little better. That truth, even as tiny pebbles tossed into the waters, will ripple wide and deep to drown the demons of deception and hiding. That when the last page is turned we will, in some small way, have stood in the light and love of a magnificent God who loves us, unconditionally, embracing our soiled and scarred lives in His welcoming arms.

The first section begins below. Please comment at any point in the document in your post, especially related to flow, content, length, clarity of message, relevance. I am MOST interested in the triggering of open dialogue about any of the issues or ideas that are presented. I welcome and encourage, please, the exchange of questions and responses. I will answer openly and with the truth from my life experience. The dialogue and sharing is more valuable than trying to claim the answers. And hopefully, you too might grapple a bit with the moments and apply them to your life.

And have some fun along the way, too.

Please join this prodigal son. Come walk with me in the INbetweens.

Messily -
Brian
___________________________________________________________________

INbetween

My year of walking in separation.

Brian Scott Kagan

This book is dedicated first and always to an amazing God; one who could love a man as broken, sinful, wandering, selfish, humbled, vulnerable, fairly dumb… and undeserving as me. It is dedicated to my family, who have blessed my life with love, patience, and acceptance. They have and continue to be my inspiration and light. They are the reason for this book and the reason why I have committed the balance of my life to becoming a better man. It is dedicated to the “brothers and sisters” who have walked with me through this year and have been a continual source of reflection & accountability without judgment about the stained fabric of my life. Finally, it is dedicated to that one other man who might read this book. A man who has hurt others, hurt himself, struggled, wondered, cried alone when no one could hear, medicated the pain, screamed in silence to whatever God might be listening, but heard no response. All on behalf of being a “real” man, instead of simply a wounded child needing a reassuring hug and someone to say, “I forgive you. I love you just the way you are."

___________________________________________________________________________

June 15, 2005

I’m a 54-year-old man. And I’m dumb!

I am also dead broke [Actually, I am negative broke – would that make me dead…dead broke?].

I gave my life to God three years ago [Actually, because most people want to know what I am, I have finally concluded that I am a Messianic Jew; not for the reason you might immediately think, but because it has “MESSI(Y)” in the label. More on this later.]. And I still haven’t got a clue what it means to be a blessed man. Why there are so many denominations when everyone is reading the same book [it’s like shopping for your faith in the Mall of America]. What it will sound like when God whispers in my ear [I’m told by spiritual mentors that this will, in fact, happen – I’m listening….]. How to experience the “ruthless trust” of God’s love. Why God wants a relationship with me, and is and always will be by my side. Trying to understand what kind of man God wants me to be, considering the fact I am more dumb than any of the original disciples [and they sure seemed clueless along the way… to the Way]; why God has led me into a career path consulting to Christian Ministries, Christian denominations, Christian world leaders & other “faith shapers” helping them impact the world for the glory of the Kingdom. Oh yes, did I mention that until April of 2002 I was a just a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn?

For the first time I realize and accept that I have lived my entire life behind a number of decoratively painted masks, effectively hiding the real face, certain that if removed people would run; terrified from grotesque scars; seeing the fat boy who used a safety pin to hold his pants together; the kid who crapped in his underwear, burying them in the back yard so no one would ever find my shame; the 21 year-old who wanted to be a poet [the next Walt Whitman] but became a shoe salesman instead; the man who stumbled into the marketing and brand communications business, and who after thirty years has played with the best of them [Fortune 500 companies, too, mind you!] working & facilitating corporate “dreaming” sessions filled with entertaining stories, poignant insights, passionate dialogue, catalytic revelations; the man who every time on stage, wonders if this time will be the one time where they figure out I’m a total fraud.

When I am alone, I frequently feel tears pooling up behind the masked smile, fearful that anyone who tried to know, appreciate, or maybe even love me would be interacting with the mask itself.

I have been married to the same woman for 25 years and have raised two amazingly wonderful children [not sure how they’ll end up, having swum all these years in my “dumb” gene pool]. We have been through heaven, hell and then some. Valerie, my wife, is a spectacular woman who has recently emerged into the light of her faith like a sterling rose in April sunlight; the blossoming making her more complete as a woman to bring to our relationship. And we are currently desperately holding on by an unraveling thread. I have “attacked” and “accused” and “bludgeoned” her with my words, my most vicious weapon.

We are a few days into the diagnosed “therapeutic separation” [and we pay good money to counselors, coaches and therapists to use terms like this] for one year and living in separate rooms of the house, so that we can figure out if we can really “kill” the old relationship… and begin fresh with a new covenant commitment before God. So, I decided I’d write a book about this process of separation. I think this makes perfect sense, with my recent faith thing and all, to share this phase of my journey. [If you’ll indulge me this encourages me to convey a little bit more about my faith, now that I have finally decided how to answer my favorite of all faith questions, guaranteed when you meet someone new… you give them some “clue” about your journey… and they ask, “So, what are you?” That’s when I do the dog-head-side-angle-tilt-when-hearing-a-high-pitched-sound maneuver. Living my years as a guy whose “square” life has never quite fit into society’s “round” holes, I have always abhorred being neatly placed into someone’s acceptable box. To my delight, I have developed a response. I smile, replying, “If you need a category, I’d have to say I am a Messianic Jew.” Immediately I get the “OK, you’re in” twinkle & nod. I continue, “But probably NOT for the reason you might be thinking. It’s mainly because it has the messy concept in it. And for sure, this faith thing is really messy!” They give a courteous chuckle, and then likely write me off as a bit-off center heretic, likely form the residue of the ‘70’s!] And, unlike a number of “Self Help” or “Christian Inspiration” books which tells a story with a redeeming end where everything “works out” [the man finds God in a lonely bar, bares his soul, leaves it all behind, recommits his life to God and his wife, becomes a missionary, starts a marriage reconciliation counseling ministry with his wife, runs retreats in the Smoky Mountains with singing, hiking, crying, laughing, group hugs, etc., etc….] So, I am writing this story before we know how it ends. I am not sure how we will walk through the process and what it will all look like when we come through the other side. Regardless of the outcome, I do believe it will be a good thing for us, notwithstanding my consistent bitching, moaning, whining, scratching and resisting the process. [I am convinced this attitude is largely a “guy” thing. Most men really do have a propensity for being real “dicks” when we’re threatened…or revealed… or seen in any way to be vulnerable. Where are Rambo, the Terminator, and Han Solo when you really need them?]. And so it begins.

Am I really dumb? Maybe. Probably. And, the truth is that I welcome these moments, painful as they are. My prayer and hope is that in your reading my real-time story, experience my questions, wanderings, and discoveries that you might see the blessings through your own broken and confused moments, feel the discomfort of the constricting mask you might be wearing, know the loneliness of retreating to the cave of rooms while trying to hide from the demons who join you for coffee this morning or share cocktails in the living room late at night. And then, I hope we will feel the gentle hand of God touch our shoulder, whispering, “Trust me. Come and accept the invitation I have for you to be the man I have always planned for you to be. And by the way, I love you just the way you are.”

END OF THIS SECTION