Book Segment #17: "From the Desert"

February 1, 2006
From the Desert [an email from a close friend]

Brian,

Hey, I’m really sorry about the wife situation. I can’t imagine what it’s like. My wife and I draw so much emotional support from each other; I can’t imagine not having that. What I can relate to is going through a desert in life, literally and figuratively. Part of my life-changing experience in Israel was spending the first four days in the Negev Desert. What first appeared barren, threatening and worthless grew on me until I started to see its beauty and understood total dependence on God. It was humbling and awesome. That experience prepared me for the figurative desert that followed as we went through 16 months of a failed business merger. My wife cried and I felt like a failure. I’ll tell you about that sometime. Looking back I see God’s hand everywhere along the way and I am better for it.

All that to tell you I’m praying for you…that God may show you the small green plant in the shadow of the rock…that he will lead you to an oasis.

You’ve already been a blessing to me.
Your brother

P.S. Say hi to Bentley for me.

[my email response]
My friend:
From the darkness emerges a beam of light that illuminates even only the next step along the darkening path. And even though it may quickly fade, the promise of its appearance ignites the courage to take one more step forward. Just one. I am humbled by what feels like undeserving love from brothers and sisters sharing this walk…in search of one green plant in the desert. Thank you for your blessing.



February 7, 2006
Rekindle

“I realize having met alone with Jim today that the truth is that my actions lately are not following what’s being communicated through my words.” These were the words from Valerie that started our brief meeting in a small shopping center in Brentwood, TN. A chance meeting. She then continued in a low voice, “I really hoped that the last six months would enable me to rekindle my feelings towards our marriage. I must be truthful with you, and us, in telling you that this is not the case. I am not in a place where I can move towards reconnecting. I really do not know what that means moving forward. I know I still have feelings. I hope that we can find friendship. I just don’t know right now what that can look like.”

[A few weeks earlier I was in the same shopping center parking lot walking to my car from the market when I saw Don Henley [yep, the Eagles!] standing ahead of me, stopped and looking up into the sky. Actually this might seem like a major thing, considering he is one of my favorite artists and songwriters. He actually spends a lot of time here in Nashville, so seeing him was not as interesting as was his upward curiosity. As I turned my glance up and to my right, I saw the point of his interest; a group of six skywriting planes penning a white-dashed-smoke sentence across the cobalt summer tablet of sky: “I love you Jennie.” It was fascinating to see the message appear, letter by letter, the puzzle unfolding… and then, the letters dissolving one by one.

I received Valerie’s words, not totally unexpected, and with every bit of courage held onto my wavering smile and replied, “I understand and appreciate that you are sharing your heart so transparently with me.” I really don’t remember the subsequent parting words after that. It really didn’t matter. And then I recalled the one line from Don Henley’s song, My Wedding Day, “…to want what I have, and take what I’m given with grace. These things I pray, on my wedding day.”

And then I knew it was time to come in from the desert’s intoxication, and write the last chapter of this book.