Diary of a Divorcee, Part 1

  Even now, sitting here in front of this screen; I am unsure of EXACTLY what it is that I am doing. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay, because I have seen with my own eyes the elephant in the room.

ELEPHANT?
   
  Yeeeessss,  I guess it could have been a Gorilla, but I prefer to think of it as an elephant. A gorilla may or may not be out of place, depending on what kind of party it is, but an elephant? Elephants definitely DO NOT belong in the parlor. And even though he doesn't belong, the majority of us would be more content to distribute our guest's tea cups around the elephant, maybe cover him with a doily... anything to avoid discussing his presence. But he's not going away just because we refuse to deal with him.

So what is this Elephant, Phillip ?

I'm glad you asked. The Elephant is simply the number of real Christian men and women who, for whatever reason, suddenly find that they are now divorced.   WHOAA!!!! Wait a minute... Stay with me. I'm not here to discuss the biblical obligations, or the ramifications of divorce. I'm not willing to get wrapped up in a debate about ethics
.
This is about people.

Maybe not "YOU", maybe it's other people;but it's people that no matter what side they were on, are REALLY  hurting. People that want to know that someone else understands the way they are hurting, and has felt the same wash of anger, frustration, and bitter loss.
 I have often thought someone should tell these people they are not alone, should NOT be concerned with how they themselves will be perceived. They should lower their guard, let people think what they will, and hope that their laughter, or tears, makes them feel a little less alone.They should understand this need, hear it begging to be filled, and step up to the plate. Someone should.

   I didn't want to be that person. Not because I didn't want people knowing what was going on with Phillip or because I was worried what they might think about me. 
Oh,..Wait --  It was for precisely those reasons.
Regardless, I will still do this, even if everyone I know hates it.  I will not try to teach any lessons or show anyone how to do things better. This is my life. This is real. I've been there too. Draw your own conclusions.   Let's begin with this date...... and boy was it a doozey

1/23/09

   Today. Today began like most others, with a sunrise. The alarm goes off (mine really makes the MOST annoying set of beeps in the whole world.),  It starts off at a low volume, a steady beep-beep, beep-beep.  The beeps seem to say: "get-up, Phil -up".  The longer it goes unattended the louder it gets... building to somewhere between the neighbor's dog barking, and a jet engine. BEEEP-BEEEP-BEEEP!!, BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEP!!!! "GET-OUTTA- BED!" "WHO CARES-THAT-YOUR- DEPRESSED!!!".  I lay there until there's a knock on the door. It's the neighbor's dog. He's annoyed because he's trying to sleep and my alarm is keeping him up.

   So I get up. I go to my second job today, a job I took because I couldn't handle the days I was spending alone, and because it pays me money.
The night before, I had called the EX. She thought she had kidney stones and no longer has health insurance. She doesn't have health insurance because I refused to pay for her insurance after the divorce. We get along for the most part, but I (much to my chagrin) had taken her insurance away right after the divorce. I didn't take anything from our home and I let her have whatever terms she asked for. I NEVER wanted to be divorced, and the pain was too much,.. I couldn't fight her.
 I carried enough guilt without that. I KNOW  that for the last two years of our marriage, I did absolutely nothing to remind her how special she was, or to love her the way Christ loves the church. I had resented the fact that she stayed home with the kids while I worked two jobs, and still struggled to make ends meet.
I resented her, because everything I did was for her, and I knew that I wasn't getting it done. If I wasn't getting it done, it couldn't be my fault right? It had to be because of the demands I perceived were being leveled at me, to give more, make more, get better things, not for me, but for her.
Demands which, just by the way, she never actually verbalized. I found out later, these expectations were phantoms.When she pointed out that she had never asked me for those things, I could only reply  "But that's what I FELT I had to do... I knew you deserved better than what I was giving."
 When I found out that another man was in the picture, spending more time with my children than I did, I was furious. I stormed into H.R. at my job, and with a stroke of the pen, snatched away her insurance. I could have simply asked her to reimburse me. She would have. But I didn't. I was angry, and I reacted. And Now, I am Ashamed.

  As I get ready for work, the conversation of the previous evening echoes in my head. Hearing the pain in her voice, my kids playing in the background. I had gotten on the phone with them, told them how much I missed and loved them, and then I cried... alone. I miss my children... A LOT. I know they don't understand, and they hurt too. I know WE  are responsible for that, And I am ashamed.   When we got off the phone, I had offered to take the children, even though I also heard her boyfriend in the background. I fought down anger, and then resentment, and offered anyways. Not a real sacrifice. They are my children.  And even though I've had them 4 days out of the last week, I would take them again. The brief periods when they are with me are the brightest spots in my "divorced life."

   She said she would call back and never did. So I called her this morning. No answer. I brush it off and go to work.  I work part time for the family YMCA, in the water, four hours at a time, doing therapy with autistic children and patients with spinal cord injuries, or illnesses that make conventional land therapy impractical.I am NOT a therapist, but I work for one.   The day is full, and just distracting enough so I don't really have to think much about the EX/SICK/KIDS situation. It's over quickly.  I fill another hour or so working out in the gym before I go home.
 On the way home, I see that I've missed a call from her, so I call back.    She answers this time, And I am overwhelmed with sympathy. She sounds pitiful. I want to drive to where she is, and take her o the hospital myself. Instead, I get on the interstate and head home. She says she knows I have to work at the fire station tomorrow , and doesn't want me to get the kids. She has help she says. I hear him in the background. He's playing X-box with my stepson, and they are laughing and talking in excited tones.I feel like an outsider looking into the world that should have been mine, and I feel alone. So I ask to speak to Jaime (my stepson), and as he's telling me he loves me, I hear something else.

     I can visualize what happened. My youngest (two) has strolled up to the television and displaying his knack for mischief has gotten in the way of the screen, or hit a button to change the channel. In a loud voice, I hear "this guy" say "UN-UH!".
 He's correcting my son!! .my blood boils.
I try to hold it together, but when my EX is back on the phone I tell her what I intend to do if I EVER hear him raise his voice to my kid again. I ask her to handle the situation, but she hangs up on me.In my anger, I've completely forgotten how sick she is, how little she needs this right now.
  A second later the cell rings, and it's her number.
 I answer, but it is most definitely not her. "THIS GUY"  is confronting ME, saying he didn't do that and now-- WELL-- Now it's on. Like Donkey Kong.

  Trying to refrain from verbiage that could land me in jail, I inform "the guy" that I HEARD HIM say "UN-UH" to my child  (is this sounding ridiculous to anyone yet?) and he had better never address me again, in any fashion.I'm so angry I'm shaking. I hang up. 
 What just happened? It was so quick, I don't even know. I know I'm angry, angrier than I've been in quite a while.
As my blood pressure returns to normal, I know something else.

 I know that what I just did is sin.

Later on I pray, and ask God to forgive me. He lets me know that I have to ask the same of this man and my EX. So I text message an apology... it is all I can do at the time. I can't fix this, and I feel helpless, lonely, and  ashamed.
I have just failed to be Christian in a situation where it could have made a world of difference.   Why?  Because he said "un-uh" to my kid.
WOW... Phillip, way to blow things out of proportion.

   Tonight I try to remind myself that we all fail sometimes, and that God is merciful. But today, I know that I could have done better, and I am ashamed. I tell myself I am only human, and mistakes happen. It sounds lame, even in my ears. Today I confused emotions, allowed myself to be reactive, and severely crippled my witness. 
Why? 

Because someone whose presence I resent told my child "un-uh." Tonight I AM ASHAMED.

I Think Jesus was a Firefighter

All across America today, thousands upon thousands of times; the tones have "dropped" and men and women have scrambled into their gear, climbed aboard apparatus, and screamed off down the street to someone else's emergency. The reality is that whatever is happening down there, at the end of the "Run", really isn't their business anyways. So why do they do it ?

I have often struggled to explain to others what it means to me to be a firefighter. 

When someone asks: "What made you want to be a firefighter ?" or " What makes it worth it ?" I don't often know what to say.

The second question is especially difficult, because it references more than one issue - long hours away from home, low pay, and even things as far reaching as paying that ultimate price. I always wanted to answer, and answer well, but the words fail. It's not that I don't know, it's just that I don't know how to put in words what I feel inside, what I think, concerning this thing called firefighting. Maybe this will clear things up a little.

The other day I stumbled across the picture above, something I had read long ago, and forgotten. In a moment the disconnect between words and emotion was bridged. I read it over and over again, and want to share it with you now. It is important for one simple reason. Every man or woman who truly wishes to be a firefighter, aspires to the profession for these reasons. 

In the excerpt above, Chief Croker eloquently puts down these essential elements of understanding what firefighting is about. Allow me to unpack it.

1.) "Everything is destroyed by fire." Fire Destroys everything --it is as sure as any physical law. Provide it three things, fuel, oxygen, and heat, and it will exist, and it will continue to exist until it has consumed all of it's fuel. It is described in the new testament as being the way this world ends.(2Peter3:12) We know that nothing.... NOTHING, is "flame proof".... it's only " flame resistive" . Everything will burn once it's hot enough.

2.) " We strive to preserve from destruction the wealth of the world..."-- For the good of society, things that are valuable must be protected from destruction.The world of man collapses when The Good things of man; what he has created for the betterment and/or enjoyment of all, is destroyed. In a broader sense, If the good that man does is taken away, then what is left is only chaos and confusion.

3.) " But, above all; our proudest endeavor is to save the lives of men- the work of God himself." -
 Life is to be preserved, if possible, at all costs. Not just because it is valuable to us individually, but because it is the gift of God. Man is valuable to God, the Creator. Man is the only thing in the creation story that God took the time to fashion with his own hands... everything else he spoke into existence.

Condensed, the whole idea looks like this: I see the good in what man has created, and recognize his individual worth to God. I will gladly stand between these, and their ultimate destruction in this physical world, because if he were physically here, that is exactly what God would do.....would do? It's exactly what he did.

In the garden, the serpent hated Man. He knew the law that existed, and what God had said would happen to man if he broke that law. He knew God couldn't lie, and all he had to do to assure man's destruction was to get him to eat of the tree. And so he did.

What should have happened next was the absolute destruction of man,  the end of all humanity... the serpent laughing evilly in the background.

But what actually happened was this: The word of judgement was spoken. Fire fell from heaven to destroy the man God had created. The demon laughed... and then stopped suddenly, laughter frozen on his lips.

Across space and time a new sound was heard. For just a moment the sounds of angels singing above a tiny stable in Bethlehem sounded like the distinctive highs and lows of station tones. As all heaven grew silent,  the king of Glory vacated his throne, and stepped into the "Turn out" gear of his own mortal flesh. Without consideration for himself, he responded; and took his place between humanity and fire. 

Maybe that's overly simplistic, and a little "out there" for most people. But to me that's simply how it went down. There was no reason for God to come to man's rescue. He didn't have to, but he wanted to. His love for his creation made it "worth it". And in my mind, there is nothing more noble, nothing better served than the thing that is closest to the heart of God.
The serpent had it right; and at the same time, completely wrong. There was no way to avoid the natural consequence of Fire...  But the heart of GOD is the heart of the firefighter.


"No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his well being, to risk his body, to risk his life, in a great cause." 
                                                                                                                -Theodore Roosevelt

The Deal about Real.

     Much is said around fire stations about being "real". Around fire stations, people reminisce about the "Old Heads" saying things like "now so-and-so... he was a real firefighter.".  Being a real firefighter seems to make up for quite a few character flaws too. It's usually added to the end of a statement like this... " Did you hear _______( insert firefighter name) was arrested for __ ( insert heinous crime here)? I heard he drinks like a fish and kicks his dog too." (pause) "But he was a real firefighter." Maybe I exaggerate, but hey... Firefighters do that.

     How about Christianity? Is there a "Real" Christianity and a "Fake" Christianity? If there's a real thing, then the statement itself infers that there must be some question as to it's authenticity, and therefore THERE MUST BE something that looks similar, but isn't... "real".

     I think if you want to know if something is real, you go back to the source, and see how much it looks like "the source".  For example to see if someone is a real Christian maybe we take a look at what we know about Christ... We take it back to CHRIST... Christian means "like Christ" right?  You can't possibly get any more real than the person or thing you are impersonating, so what do we know about Him?

   Isaiah 53 speaks of Christ like this: "There is NO beauty that we should desire him."  He is "despised and rejected of men", a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. It states further that he had "No form or comeliness".  The prophet is so turned by his vision of "Christ" that he says "We hid our faces from him." We esteemed him as ".. stricken, smitten by GOD, and afflicted."

   Doesn't sound like the popular definition of Christianity. Popularly (Christianity that is)  doesn't look sweaty, and ugly, and tired, and hurt. It looks like an extra five in the offering or hugging the neck of someone you don't really like or dropping a can of creamed corn in the "food drive" bin.
  Seriously, you were NOT going to eat it anyway. 
   But all too often, that view of Christianity leaves people who aren't familiar with Christianity wondering: "Is He for real?"

     Maybe to find real, we have to look past the way things appear and see what really is. Maybe appearance, no matter how pleasant; is just appearance, and "real" means actions that really matter, a  sacrifice for another, and a resolute character that isn't easily shaken from "what is right."   Maybe it isn't nearly as pretty as we think it should be sometimes, but it's realness is unshakable; and  people who are looking to be real themselves.... well, they recognize it right away.

Today I thought about Jesus, and whether I am "real"... I sit here writing this; and my heart is troubled. I found two things to include in this blog, and I hope one of them touches you.
  

Excerpt from the velveteen rabbit:

(or how toys become real)

" What is REAL?" asked the rabbit one day,

when they were laying side by side near the nursery fender, before

Nana came to tidy up the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you, and a stick out handle?" 

"REAL isn't how you are made," said the skin horse. "It's a thing that happens to you.

When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you,

then you become real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the rabbit. "Sometimes," said the skin horse, for he was always truthful. "BUT when you are REAL, you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once?" he asked. " Like being wound up, or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the skin horse. "YOU BECOME. It takes a long time.

That's why it doesn't often happen to toys who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you become real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out. You become lose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose YOU are real?" said the rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the skin horse might be sensitive. But the skin horse only smiled.

"The Boy's uncle made me real, " He said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are REAL, you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

   

All About Heroes

  01/30/12

  Tonight, I have just returned from assisting with the instruction of a basic firefighter class in a neighboring county, the topic of which was "hands on" primary search with an entrapped victim. This is something that is very close to the hearts of all firemen ... and most would say it's what we sign up for.
  In fact, if we are truly honest with ourselves; I believe that all firefighters begin this career in the hopes that one day they would become a hero. And maybe we're the kind of guys ( and gals) that need that. I don't mean to be disparaging. I don't think that necessarily means that firefighters are glory seekers, adrenaline "junkies", or reckless "hose monkeys". For me, It only means that I must aim my life at a greater good; something extraordinary, in order for it to have meaning.

 "Why do you want to be a hero?"  I have asked many rookies why they wanted to be firefighters, But I don't think I've explained my own reasoning to more than a few. While I was still a young man, I lost a cousin in a structure fire. Katrina (blackwood) Walker was only 13 when she died on July the 1st, 1991.
 In the early hours before dawn, she had woken to flames consuming her home. My Great Aunt Betty and uncle H- had made it safely to their agreed meeting spot, but Katrina wasn't there.
 Katrina had fled to the bathroom, stuffed a towel in the crack of the door and waited for help.She had been taught (correctly)  that this was the best thing to do if you couldn't get out of your house during a fire.
 Her home was less than a mile from a firestation... the response was direct and timely, the firefighters there did their ABSOLUTE best. It wasn't enough.
Katrina had an infectious smile.She had been born mostly deaf, but somehow she was still teaching herself to play guitar. She had a pet skunk. She was 13.

Katrina's incident has always been, and always will be; in my mind. It's something I carry with me out the door to every shift. I can't imagine what those firemen that were there felt... But the fear of feeling it?  Well... It makes me want to be a hero.
 


  Talking about "Heroes" tonight made me remember this story.
. I want to share it, because to me, heroes are not defined by the status their actions may bring them, but instead by what action they will willingly give themselves to... for the sake of another, seeking nothing in return. This one event created a lasting impression on me, and here for the first time in a long time; I saw what I think heroes truly look like.
   I've had to change the names, but I promise the story is true... I hope it blesses you.

6/10/11
"She's Gone."
Just moments ago, I received that simple text message. Two words, simple and expected, but devastating.
  " Jasmine", who would have been five years old in little more than a week, had finally lost her fight with Cancer. I had met Jasmine through my girlfriend, and at the beginning of our relationship, we took the picture you see above. She had met Jasmine and her family while volunteering at Duke University's Oncology department. She had helped the girl's family that day, and the picture above is from the simple dinner they prepared for us, their way of saying " Thank you."
  Despite the best efforts of the medical professionals, the child grew worse. I vividly remember the night the child's mother called, panic in her voice as she begged my girlfriend for help. We had to be on a plane at 4am the next morning, but still ( at my girlfriend's insistence) we drove to their house and picked them up, mother and child, so they would have a way to the emergency room. I have never felt so helpless as I did that night, listening to her whimper in the back seat, her tiny voice saying, over and over; " me duele, me duele." ( it hurts me, it hurts me) I asked later what it meant, but there was no need... somehow I already known..
Earlier today, my girlfriend rushed out of class to be with Jasmine and her family, stopping only long enough to pick up dinner for them. She called me on her way, and I was moved by the genuine concern I could hear in her voice as we talked. Mary ( the girls mother) had called her earlier in near panic, begging her to come. She had not been there long when I received the text.  " She's Gone."

My girlfriend didn't go because she had to, or because she would get some satisfaction from going. She didn't go because everyone would know what she had done. Until this post, only a very few knew the story. No one was watching, and there was no medal for her to carry away. She owed those people nothing, would profit nothing to suffer with them, but still she went.  Her motive was simple... Love. Not fleshly temporal love, but the love that each of us should nurture in our own hearts, love that seeks no self fulfillment, but is simply an echo of the Love shown us by Christ. This was heroism. This was Christianity, and this one event taught me more about Christianity than any of the time I spent in bible college.

  As firefighters we are blessed to be in a position of "helping", being there for those crisis moments when no one knows what to do.We assist those in desperate need, making sense of it all. This too, I believe; is very Christ-like. However, we are also very isolated from  the reality that exists outside of each "scene." When our work there is done, we go back to station, clean the gear, do the reports, and move on. This is our refuge. If we were unable to disconnect from the tragedies and trauma, I don't think our careers would last very long. We cope, we grow; distancing ourselves further from the pain, but perhaps also further away from our reason for being here in the first place. Maybe the callused, distant veteran doesn't even remember the "hero" he wanted to be.
 This one event however, was something I was forced to see in it's totality. I saw it up close and personal, and I learned what heroes really look like.

They don't always look like a "Rescue". The guys in Katrina's yard that night, dejected, exhausted... they were heroes. They don't always look like superman in a "10-10". Because to this firefighter heroes don't always look like the guy who saved a life, or put out the most fire.
Sometimes heroes look like people who didn't have to be there. People who couldn't change the outcome. But People who were there anyways, and gave it everything they had.