My 1 Story

I was born to a 15 year old girl in 1964. As she was too young to take care of me I lived with my grandmother until I was 4 years old when she was hospitalized for the long term effects of diabetes and eventually died. I went to live with one of my biological mother’s sisters along with her husband and two children (both older). I was never adopted officially because my dad didn’t feel like my mom let him be a father to me – she was probably protecting me because of my rough past. Subsequently, I grew up rather independent and didn’t open myself up – though I was often loud and disruptive. I guess I was afraid to get too close to people – fearing they might hurt me like I was hurt by my grandmother leaving me.

Door Number 3

Death has always been difficult for me. The loss of a friend or a loved one has been a source of intense emotional pain. 9/11 left me with a sense of emptiness that I just can’t put into words. Even Easter Sunday brings a flow of tears as I imagine the suffering and sense of being so alone that our Christ experienced.

Paul talks about his thorn (2 Cor 12:7) and the fact that that it will not be removed from him. Wow, can I relate. After being baptized in 1994, I moved my wife and son from Chicago to Denver in search for the next best job. God had impacted my life, and I needed to get the “rest” of it in line with the joy I was feeling. While in Denver, my daughter was born, and God placed me in the midst of a phenomenal group of brothers and sisters in Christ. I grew in ways that I am only now beginning to realize, but during this enormous blessing my “thorn” continued to remind me it was still there. Over the ten years in Denver, my job situation changed seven times, some I initiated and some I did not, but each time showed me that I did not have the control I thought I did. God blessed me over and over allowing each new chapter of my life to be a way to get closer to Him.

I was very fortunate to grow up in home that nurtured spiritually as well as physically. I remember having my name in the church bulletin for memorizing scripture and winning Bible drills. From an early age I knew which Bible characters did what and quite a bit about their significance. I was taught right from wrong, I wanted to “walk in the light”. I understood at an early age that I wanted to work for Jesus, as my 8 year old self put it.

My story begins simply enough. It’s probably not all that uncommon a story really, I’m sure. Yet it was this one experience that I can pinpoint as the one moment in time wherein my one life was changed.

I was a bit troubled after the ugly separation and divorce of my parents at the tender age of 9. But that was only the beginning of a series of traumatic events and later child abuse that would ultimately end in some pretty serious drug abuse, increasingly bizarre and perverse behavior and a careless disregard of life and people. (The abuse I suffered was not at the hand of my parents. I would just like to make that clear).