I wonder if he managed it…

Do you think so? I came across this quote, and thought, “If only I could…”

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts.
~Charles Dickens

Today:

I am a rock. I am an Island.

And a rock feels no pain.
And an island never cries.

Tagged 8’s

Okay, so I haven’t been a very active blogger lately, but I’ve been distracted by other things- like kids, and work, and church, and photography, and such-like-that-there.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t available to be tagged, though, the lovely Lil Bit saw fit to tag me with a meme called “Tagged 8’s”. So, here it is, as best I can

8 Things I’m looking forward to:
1. Going to visit friends and family back in Minnesota!! YAY I leave Tuesday, spend the day and night with an old friend, then over to my dad’s and on up to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, to spend a few days in the log cabin and just “veg”.
2. Summertime! It’s 80+ here today, sunny and bright, and feels wonderful.
3. Sailing! I am so hoping to have the boat in the water this year, for the first time in two years; hopefully the surgeon and physical therapist will agree that I’m in shape to do that.
4. Photos! I’m having so much fun with the processing and filtering in photoshop, and taking, editing and selecting them, so although it’s an ongoing thing I still look forward to it.
5. Fire! (Department). I had the official physical a while ago, and as soon as I’m strong enough, I can start drilling with the department again; perhaps not ready to actively go in, but at least it’s something.
6. Friends! I’m planning a get-together with some wonderful friends in a couple weeks, and I can hardly wait.
7. Time with Lynn! This includes things like a photo-shoot yesterday, with a group of photographers that we hang out with, and going to dinner, hanging out together, cuddles, sex, laughing and whatever. Basically, (I know, I get the ’sap of the year award’), I just like to be with her.
8. Cabin! Summer is also the time to head to the cabin, hang on the beach, be mellow, and just play. Gotta love it!

8 Things I did yesterday:
1. Hot shower to melt muscle knots
2. Took a zillion photos at a lighthouse, with a group of photographers
3. Napped
4. Visited friends
5. Fixed wiring for a network
6. Enjoyed a fine fantasy about photos and calendars
7. Hung out in a hot-tub, with close friends
8. Stayed out way to late

8 Things I wish I could do:
1. Sing
2. Quit my “day job” (but only to do something else)
3. Speak Spanish
4. Travel around meeting certain people, at will and whim
5. See Australia
6. Be a nudist for a month
7. Be able to pay off a bunch of medical bills, all at once, right now
8. Write when I want, whatever I want- without being self-conscious about it

8 TV Shows I watch
*Hmmm, this one is tough- I really don’t watch TV to speak of, and no show that I “Must see”- so I’m going to have to take an incomplete here
1. How It works (Maybe called “How things are made?”)
2. Mythbusters
3. Whatever happens to be on if Lynn’s watching when I go to bed, cuz I have no clue

I don’t know who else is playing or wants to- so I’m going to take the lazy way out, and if you want to play along, you should consider yourself officially tagged.

David and the terrible-awful-no-good-day

Today, March 13th, is a terrible-awful-horrible-no-good-very-bad-day.

But not for me, anyway. Today, for me, is a day like any other day. I got up, went to work, did some research, put together some analysis, had lunch- really, just a day.

But I feel great. The only thing I can point to, is simply related to the last few posts.

I’m alive.

I have God.

I have family.

I have friends.

So I’m feeling happy and content and at peace, at the moment.

I hope YOUR Friday, is just as nice in it’s own way, for you.

Touched

I was awarded a friends-award from Lil Bit today:

Friends Award

Naturally, there are rules, as otherwise what fun would it be to pass this around? So here they are:

“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

Since Lil Bit tagged/awarded to me, I guess I can’t do it back, but if you don’t know her, go check her blog out: http://littlehmphf.blogspot.com/

Here’s the rest of my list:
Desmond
Tam
Redheadededitor
Therese
different kind of girl

Hugs for you all- and award or not, as you see fit

Not My, but Thy

(This is really long, and rather wandering, but I needed to write it, and post it- so my apologies in advance)

I’m jumping back again, back to the fall of 2006. This would be post suicide-by-truck-into-bridge-averted-by-some-other-powers-hands-on-mine-that-saved-my-pretty-useless-carcass-for-some-reason (at the time) unknown-to-me timing. This would be post drop-the-kid-off-for-his-first-year-at-the-university timing. Post (or during?) the find-out-about-things-in-our-relationship-that-are-not-so-good-to-find-out-about timing. Anyone following that? No? Me either, but that’s okay.

The important parts, of the whole time period then, are varied- it’s sufficient for some of it, to simply note that a whole lot of garbage has been worked through, sorted, thrown away and is gone. A lot of ripping out of the deadwood, to leave behind what is real, and true, and valuable, in my relationship with Lynn. Of course, there is the minor detail that I’m still alive and around to care about this stuff, which along with our caring about one another again, is an ongoing process, as well as an ongoing commitment.

But something very very interesting happened, in the midst of all of the yuk. There was a time, a moment when my heart was breaking, when I honestly couldn’t have given odds that I would ever be whole enough to care about anything. But, once again, I was feeling those warm hands, that so soft voice- and because of that, I did something I hadn’t done in years.

I left my house, and went to church. Not on Sunday, not for a service, but just because I needed to be there.

I went to the church we’d found back in 1999, when we moved to this teeny village. The white clapboard little country church, where we’d found a spiritual home. Granted, I’d spent intervening years actively avoiding it, granted that during that time I couldn’t have, (or rather, wouldn’t have) acknowledged that God existed, much less cared- that didn’t matter. I knew, in the same way that I’d felt those warm hands on mine two months before, that I needed to get my ass to church.

I prayed there, sincerely, and for the first time in a long long time, I prayed the one prayer that I believe God likes to hear more than any other. Pretty much, I said, “Show me what YOUR will is here, show me where I need to be going, because I don’t know; I need you to show me what path YOU want me on. If that means I lose my marriage, my life, my place in this world, so be it.” YOU know- the whole, “Not my will, but Thy will be done” praying.

And, much to the chagrin of the part of me that had been running from it, for so long, so thoroughly, He did what will always be done, if we can but listen, if we can only see. He told me. He showed me. He made it very very plain to me, that despite all of my best efforts, He was there and waiting, patiently, for me to wake up. He made it plain, that my first job now, was to get my house in order. Then, he wanted to talk to me some more. (Know how it was, when your dad or mom would say “I want to talk to you?” Yeah, that’s the tone, right there).

At that point, there was still a lot of work to be done, of course. A ton of work, a lot of tears, and anger and frustration and ready to quit. A lot of learning, and relearning, and all the work of restoring trust, and rediscovering one another, and relearning about one another. (No, I’m not talking ’bout marriage here, although that was true, too- no, I meant between myself and God).

That growth is ongoing, of course, and will be forever. I started by making the simple changes I needed to, in order to make the opportunities for communication to happen. I started getting to church, and becoming more actively involved there. I began to make time to pray, and study, and think, again. I spent time reflecting on things that I’d heard, and known-but-denied, and acknowledging that sometimes, other people might know us better than we know ourselves.

And so, eventually, I took an opportunity to explore some things at the Seminary in New York; I jumped into some things at church that I’d never done before, and they were amazing. I started teaching the high school classes, as I’d done years before. I started working with various groups, and these days, I’ve found myself on the vestry- whodda thunk THAT, five years ago?

I’ve struggled, and still do- and probably will, forever, with wanting things that aren’t good for me, aren’t what God wants for me; and, no doubt, I will succumb to those temptations, and beat myself up for it, for not being stronger, or better, or whatever.

But, I’ve learned something that I can cling too, that I grasp, that I hold dear to my heart, and that I thank God for each and every day, each and every time I pray. I’ve learned that I am much happier, much more complete, much more than I used to be- if I remember to pray “Thy will”.

There is a whole range of things I can think of, and point to, and reflect on, that let me know that I am finally heading where I’m supposed to be, that at least I’m at the beginning of the right road for me to take. I’m not going to try to catalog them all, I’ll spare you that.

But, one of the steps that I took last week, is a huge one. A letter was sent to a carefully, prayerfully chosen group of eight people of our parish. This letter is the biggest thing I’ve ever tackled, and the most important thing of all, in so many ways- so, I’m placing it here, as well as in my heart and the hearts of the ones that received it in the mail.

To: ***
From: Father ***
Date: Ash Wednesday – 2009
Re: Discernment Committee – David ***

Dear Friends –

I write to ask your help in serving on a discernment committee for David ***. David has a strong sense of calling to serve in ordained ministry in the church, and has over the past two years begun the work of testing that calling by taking some classes at General Seminary and by substantially increasing his involvement in various church ministries here at Christ Church. The time has come to assemble a parish level discernment committee on his behalf.

The work of a discernment committee varies with the candidate they seek to serve, but always involves hearing the story of the candidate’s life and sense of calling, and helping the candidate reflect on their experiences of both church ministry and ministry in the wider world. Discernment committee work is typically prayerful, deep and nourishing for all involved. This committee will meet to assist and support David until he either moves beyond the parish level in the “process” of formation for priestly ordination, or until he is clear his vocational calling lies in another arena.

If you agree to serve on this committee, you can expect to meet about once every six weeks, usually on a Sunday afternoon. Past discernment committees have typically shared a simple lunch together after church, meeting for about an hour and a half. We will convene for our first meeting of the group at some time early in the Easter season.

You are receiving this invitation for very specific reasons. I trust you will honestly and prayerfully consider serving with this group. Your presence would be a blessing to us all, and David in particular.

I will call soon to answer any questions and see if you’ll be joining us. Thanks in advance for your kind consideration.

Faithfully Yours –

Father ***

Obviously, I don’t know for sure where this will lead. I think I do, and so do many others- but the point is to help discern that. But that’s okay, right? Cuz I get to say, “THY will…”

Skipping ahead, and back, and around- and it’s good

I’m skipping ahead, from where I stopped last post. Why? Because it’s my blog, and I can! Okay, so really, it’s because this week- tomorrow, actually- marks the one year anniversary of an event that has been on my mind lately. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget dates, I’ve written about that before- but either way, since I don’t seem to be able to get it out of my head, I thought I’ll share a bit here, and see if it helps.

I wrote about this, sort of, on my return, here:
But, I’d never particularly said what it was that threw me into said tailspin. Last year, about the time we we were redecorating my daughter’s room, I was doing something or other to Lynn’s computer. While doing that, I had seen some things that indicated that an attachment to one of her gaming friends had gone beyond just good friends, and it tossed me backwards, and down.

Good old black thing, seeing this, reared up it’s ugly, cold self, and tried once again to swallow me up. By that night, I was a complete, gibbering, useless emotional wreck. (Do you know that even knowing that it’s an illness, etc, and all that- it’s really not easy to admit to falling apart like that?) (Good thing I know you wont tell anyone, huh?) There was very little room for any forms of rational thought, nor was there any space being left for what I KNEW I should be doing, namely praying and letting God take this on. I have a hard time with that, though, which is one of the things that the depression both causes, and feeds upon. When you feel useless, and worthless, and unable to consider any value in yourself- well, then, why would God? After all, He knows better than anyone just how worthless I am, right?

It’s a nasty, vicious, icky cycle, and about the only good thing I can say for it, is that it certainly does keep you from doing things. Oh yes, if you want to have no ability to function, then go for the depression. Other than that? No, not-so-good.

Anyway, I was falling apart, completely. I had fallen so fast, and so deeply, that Lynn felt the need to hide the car keys, and to move medicines, and to keep a careful eye on me, in case I found a knife, or a razor. That terror, that fear in her eyes, was about the only thing that could have, that finally did, penetrate. I knew, somewhere, someplace inside, that even through the mistrust and anger I was feeling towards her, and her friend, and my own uncertainty about what that meant for our relationship- I knew that I hated that look even more than I hated myself.

Now, a couple years ago, I may well have made the determination that I could eliminate the look, if I eliminated myself. How extremely logical, no? No fear in your wife’s eyes, if you’re not around to have a wife anymore, right?

Thankfully, the God that I just KNEW found me useless and worthless, didn’t. No, once again, He whispered, he reminded me that I was still around for a reason, and that even if I didn’t understand that reason, He did; and He’d let me know why when I was ready to hear it, but that right now, tonight, I needed to stay alive, and here’s the handy solution. Harder solution, yes- but the right one. He told me, get going, dude-

So, I checked into the nut-hut (Behavioral Psychology Medicine Unit, for those that insist on boring, uninteresting names for things). I spent just under a week there, working with the Docs and Nurses, and the counselors and other patients. Something very unsettling, about realizing that the reason the orderlies come into the room every 20 minutes, is to make sure you’re not dead; yes, the whole ward was monitored, basically on a suicide watch, the entire time, every one of us.

I’ll tell you this though, as I reflect over the past year, look back on that day. I am much, much stronger than I was then, much healthier. I know this, because of something that happened just three weeks ago. I was going to start the car, warm it up before church, so went to get the keys from Lynn’s purse. Can you imagine the smack in the face I felt, when I found a couple of phone-calling-cards, and two pictures of the guy from a couple years ago, that had nearly ripped us apart? Yeah, that guy. The one that “I’ve not spoken to, chatted with, thought of, in xxxxx time.”

Yeah, the one that during the first seven months of what I call the Hell Time, was a repeated occurance. Lies, evasions, half-truths, but never actually stopping contact.

That, was a nasty, ugly slap in the face. Every old feeling, all the old fears and jealousy and anger, plus the new anger that arose, thinking that all this time, all the work we’d been doing, all the professions of love and newly rekindled relationship, was all false.

But- and this, my friends, is the much more interesting part, to me- I’m still here. I didn’t spiral into a suicidal depression; I didn’t leave; I didn’t kill myself, or her, or him. In fact, I managed to get to church, and do what I needed to do: I prayed. I prayed to God, to let me see what and why this was back, what I needed to do, what was he wanting from or for me.

And, once again- He answered. He answered through the conversation I had with Lynn, later that day, when instead of leaving, I listened. Seems, the purse she’d grabbed from the closet the day before was an old one, not her current one; she needed to use something, because she’d left hers in the car, and it was with one of the kids. So, she grabbed this one, tossed her wallet and keys in it, and did whatever. Forgetting to get the other one from the car, well, who cared? Her point, was that the photos, the calling cards, were old and outdated. They were not anything she kept intentionally, nothing that she cared about.

As we talked, I fought the unease, the disbelief, the doubts that were there, and did my best to listen with the knowledge that I’d gained in the last two years. Knowledge of her love, through the looks she gives me, of the laughing and fun and joy we’ve re-found; of the love, of the play, of the sex and the giddy silliness that we’ve been sharing, all of these things were in my head as I listened, and tried to counter the ugly, horrible, outdated feelings.

And, my friends- I won. It worked, that time the black thing didn’t stand a chance. By that night, we were wrapped in one another’s arms, entwined and loving one another, making love, hugging, talking. Sharing, as we’ve learned to, the bad times- and rejoicing in the good times, celebrating in love, and fighting off the bad.

Totally different reactions, from one year to another; from one guy, to another guy, from a real threat, to an imagined threat, to a past threat, and once more, God told me to stick around, that He’s not done with me yet. As I was thinking about last year, and what a horrible time it was, how depressed I was, I also couldn’t help noticing something else; Yesterday, in the car, I was singing to Beth and Lynn, singing along with a cd we’d made years ago.

Perhaps you know the song, “I can see clearly now”. Well, the line I loved, and actually repeated, because it seemed so fitting: “I think I can make it now, the pain is gone…
All of the bad feelings have disappeared…
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin’ for…
It’s gonna be a bright, bright, bright, bright sun shiney day.”

Works for me.

Guided Post- You tell me why, I don’t know.

Hmmmmm. Guess it’s been a while since I’ve felt like blogging, huh? Oh well, life happens that way.

I’ve had some ups and downs, mostly ups; but the one down, was a big one, ugh. Put me right back to a couple years ago, with the doubts, the uncertainties, the suspicions; ick. Doesn’t really matter why, or what caused it though- cuz the good part about it, is that within a few days, that tailspin had passed, and I was back to feeling good, and looking forward instead of backward. Which, if you’ve read this much, you know is no small thing, for me. Depression is an ugly, horrible thing- but finding that I can cope, that I’ve learned enough, that Lynn and I have progressed enough to (eventually, lol) shrug and say “So? She loves me, and that’s all I need to know.” THAT’S progress!

Anyway, not what I really wanted to talk about. No, I decided that I need to share some thoughts on a journey I began a couple years ago. It really is related to depression, and suicide, and hopelessness, and relationships dying, but in such a fundamentally wonderful way, that I haven’t been able to express it well. I don’t know if I can now, but I’m going to try…and this will split into several pieces, cuz it’s a long story, so if you don’t like long stories, don’t read for a while

Soooo, a bit of backstory: I suffer, and have for years, from major depression. Nasty, suicide is the only choice type depression. The kind that kills you. Yeah, that kind, the icky one. I had, for years, watched it cycle, and my “blues” would pass off, after a while. I got very accustomed to this, and because the dark spells always had disappeared, after a bit, I didn’t think much of them. However, there came a time, several years ago, when the depressive mood didn’t pass off. It worsened, instead. I grew distant, withdrew from all but the surface stuff in my family life; nothing really mattered much, and I didn’t care that I felt that way. I would go to work, and come home, and do some things with the kids, but mostly I was working as hard as I could to keep breathing, from one minute to the next.

Naturally, perhaps, my relationship with my wife suffered during this time- badly. She was fighting her own issues, with health and circumstances, and I wasn’t really there for her; so, she withdrew from me, as well, until we were two people living together, not really much of a husband, not really much of a marriage, in a lot of ways. We would deal with the kids in harmony, we always did have that; but, we didn’t do anything together, and we didn’t talk or share much with one another, at all.

Compounding the isolation, I had spent years- about 20- ignoring something that I’d been hearing, all around me, that God was trying to tell me, over and over. I, however, knew better than God did, so I would ignore it, as best I could. Until it became “unignorable”, and so my next response was to run away. I stopped attending church, I actively avoided it. I stopped praying, I stopped singing, I stopped seeing God in all the works around me. Basically, I tried to hide. (And if you think THAT’s easy, you’re crazier than I am!)

Okay, so now turn to the summer of 2006. July, sunny day, clear blue skies, hot- and I’m cold. I’m so cold, from so deep inside myself, that nothing is going to warm me. I’m sitting at work, at my desk in the cube-farm, and start having this overwhelming feeling of despair. Since I am at that point, convinced that I am less than useless, and that many would be better off without me around, imagine the relief when I realize- hey! Dummy! All you have to do is die a little bit, and it will stop hurting. Just think, you wont have to feel that unending pain, the isolation, the despair- you can make it all stop, if you just take care of business.

So, I left. I got up, and walked out of the office, and climbed into my truck- because I knew exactly what I needed to do. I figured that at 90+, running into the bridge stanchion would take care of business quite nicely; and, because it would be a traffic accident, the insurance would remain in force, and at least I could do one good thing for my kids.
So cold, it was icy. Yes, I know the temperature was 93, outside- but I was like a frozen imitation of myself, my blood had stopped moving around, or something. I drove. I went north, then west, and about 20 minutes after leaving the office, I was within 2 miles of “my bridge”.

So I accelerated. A lot. There was nobody around, for which I was grateful- I had no intention of harming anyone else, and I didn’t want to have to circle around. The truck I had then was newish, had plenty of oomph, with an empty bed- so I watched the road, and the speedometer.

75, 80, 85, 90, 95. Bridge coming up fast, and my hands locked to the wheel- and everything slowed down, I can still see so clearly, still feel so acutely, that moment. I can see the grass of the median, I can see the line I’ll have to follow to clear the little signposts, and ensure a nice direct hit. I can feel the road vibrations, the speed, hear the wind and engine noises…

The rattling thumping as I start to move left, crossing the rumble strips, checking that I’m still going fast enough…

95+, should do it…

and warmth. Warm, soft, gentle bur firm-

Hands, on mine, over mine, touching me. But- the truck, you see, is empty. I’m alone, there’s nobody here. And yet, the pull- softly, but there was no resisting it- turning my hands, ever so little on the wheel, not overcorrecting, not going to spin… the littlest, tiniest “click”… which, later, I realized was the drivers side mirror, scraping the edge of that concrete pillar. It scraped the plastic, grooved it- and didn’t break the glass of the mirror in it’s casing.

And the warm, deeply loving presence, of the one that I’d left- or tried to- leave behind me, filling me, telling me, “not yet, not now. I have things for you to do still.”

I slowed down, I pulled- he pulled- the truck back to the roadway, and I sat, stunned. 85..80..75..65..55… and over there, on the other side, a firetruck, an accident scene. Volunteers, out on the highway, struggling and working to help, to save someone, to assist and comfort, whatever is needed.

And I thought. If I had done this, if He had let me, my own brothers and sisters (firefighters, not my siblings) would be the ones to clean up after me. That would be horrific, for them, could I do that?

And I remembered… (was reminded? I think so, yes.) Something I’d seen on postsecret, that there is a number you can call… so I turned around, and went to the bookstore, and found the book- to look up that number. I was numb, I was dead, I was cold and alone- yet, I was led to that point, to pick up the phone, to call…

And, for the first time ever, told somebody that I’m depressed, and need help, and what can I do.

I have been taking the handy anti-depressants, for 2 ½ years now; I have been relearning how to be a human, to be a husband and father and lover and friend again. And, most importantly, I have been relearning how to listen, and talk to, and pay attention to, the God that made me, and saved me.

I’ve told this part of the story to 3 people, I think, total- but for some reason, today I had to write and post it here. So, that’s part one, and I’m not sure why, but as I say, I am being told it’s time to do this, so here it is. In a while, when it’s time, I guess, I’ll know why this needed to be posted, and why now; or perhaps I’ll never know, and at this point? That’s okay, too.

I Wish

I wish I had my naivety back.

I wish I understood.

I wish I could believe.

Nostalgia

I’ve been playing with my camera a ton, in the last couple years, which is a wonderful thing for me. I’ve actually sold some images, which pleased me, because I don’t think of myself as a professional. Although not many, it was a nice feeling that others appreciated my eye.

One of the things I’ve been doing is using the flickr service. In flickr, there are many, many groups, in all kinds of themes, that people can join, and send their photos to, just for the fun and feedback. Groups such as: “Only Yellow Flowers”, “Still Life with Vegetables”, “ArtsyNudes”, and so on. There’s a group for just about anything you can think of, and if there isn’t a suitable group for your tastes, well, you can create one.

One group I just joined, is called: Mission 24. Basically, about once a week, an email is sent with a theme; you then have 24 hours to interpret, photograph, process and upload photos that meet that theme, to your mind. Today, I completed my first assignment, and wanted to share one of the photos here too.

The theme is Nostalgia; one of the photos is here:

Here’s the text I put beneath the photo, explaining why this is nostalgic to me, and where the inspiration came from:
For Mission 24, “Nostalgia”. I started thinking about that, and my mind wandered to my paternal grandfather. When I was young, from about 6 through perhaps 10, He would on special occasions get out the Edison Cylinders, and play them on this antique player.

I used to love those times, he and I would sit on the floor in front of the machine, listening to the crackly, scratchy old recordings of artist’s long gone, and in some cases not identified on the recordings and so unknown.

When I took these shots, I had the “Root Beer Rag” playing, as it was his favorite of them all. Not that you can hear it or tell the player is going- but I know, and I smiled.

Silly, maybe, but I think Granddad may have smiled, too.