Finding Love

"I admit, I was afraid to love. Not just love, but to love her.

For she was a stunning mystery. She carried things deep inside her that no one has yet to understand, and I, I was afraid to fail, like the others.

She was the ocean, and I was just a boy who loved the waves but was completely terrified to swim.”  

― Christopher Poindexter

In my past relationships I was notorious for "settling". I clung to the one or two desirable traits in a woman, and completely ignored the red flags that should have caused me great trepidation. Because a woman was beautiful, I tolerated how poorly she treated me; because another made me feel desired and special, I overlooked her self-destructive behavior; because I could help them and take care of them, provide for them and love them, I disregarded the fact that there was little to no reciprocation. For a time I had resigned myself to that role, accepting it and almost embracing it.

After a failed marriage and a broken engagement, however, I started to question whether or not having a partner at all was something for me. I shifted my focus completely onto my children and improving myself as a person, while also spreading the love that I had previously concentrated on just one person to as many people as I could. I spent my free time either doing the things that I enjoyed or helping others that needed it. My capacity for love began to grow so much greater than it had been before.

I was happy, and life was good. Make no mistake - I had endured my share of hardships, had experienced a fair amount of heartbreak, had loved and lost - and loved and lost again. In spite of it all, though, I still considered myself blessed beyond what I deserved, and happy with what I had been given.

I will also be the first to admit, though, that I am a bit of a hopeless romantic... and yet, even though I've always loved the thought of a lifelong companion, I was content with just having my faith, my children, my career, my family and my hobbies. My joy was not dependent on having a close relationship with a woman, and I felt secure about who I was and where I was headed in life. I was a strong, intelligent man who could make it on my own, and I didn't need anyone to share it with. I was a castle; a fortress of independence, whose walls were thick and nearly invincible. God allowed me to become as much, and likely for more reasons than one.

Then He gave me her.

God looked at these strong walls that He had allowed me to build for myself, and with one beautiful, wonderful woman, He smashed a hole right through them. He didn't tear them down, denying me their protection completely, but He allowed them to experience this one weakness in order that I might experience something wonderful, and for one who was content with what he had, I hadn't a clue how good things were about to get.

Here was a woman who had also experienced her share of love and loss. She had gone through both a marriage and a subsequent engagement that didn't work out, and yet she still had it together. She poured her life into her kids and their activities, she was outstanding at her job, and she pursued her dreams and goals with unapologetic passion. She was gorgeous, she was lovely, her laugh made my heart swell and her mere proximity made me giddy in a way that I had yet to feel around anyone.

Our relationship started as a friendship, for which I am grateful. We talked a lot, and we spent time outdoors hiking and indoors eating (and drinking coffee). With each new bit of information I learned about her, and with each moment we spent together, I liked her more. At first I was apprehensive and almost resistant to being romantically interested in her - after all, my track record for such relationships was not particularly good - but little by little God softened my heart, and allowed me to become more comfortable with the possibility of loving and being loved again.

It was terrifying.

I frantically pleaded with God to show me why I shouldn't fall in love with this woman. I almost wanted a reason, a red flag, a deal-breaker, bad habit, obnoxious mannerism - anything to warn me not to get too close and open myself up to being hurt once again. God's response was silence... and I could almost feel Him smiling. Not the cruel, indifferent smiling of one who foresees an oncoming calamity and yet stands by to watch it happen, but rather the smile of one who knows that something fantastic and beautiful is about to happen, because they have set the pieces in motion and now wait for the scene to play out.

My apprehension turned into elation, and my fears and reservations quickly dissolved.  I am now overjoyed to be able to call her my own, and ecstatic that I am hers.  There's no doubt that some will be skeptical or even fearful for either (or both) of us - understandably so, as we've both had our forays into romance, and have experienced upsetting results.  I remain convinced, however, that the quality and authenticity of our love is to be judged only by ourselves and God alone, and for once in my life I feel my desires and actions are in harmony with what He wants for me.

I don't pretend to know exactly where this relationship will end up, but I do have my hopes.  For now, though, I am delighted to be swept up in her adventures, and to sweep her up in mine.

The Hero

Pretty much every story has one. Some (like my own) might even have more than one. In some stories (like my own), the hero isn't even the main character or the focus of the story - rather, they are the influential and awe-inspiring rock from which the main protagonist draws his or her strength; the person who occasionally (or in some cases often) swoops in to save the day when things look hopeless and seem to be at their worst; a person whose character, bravery, selflessness and sense of adventure are something for others to aspire to; a champion of virtue and strength - physical or otherwise.

As I've said, the story of my adventure has more than one hero, but for now I will write about the hero in my life: that man is my dad.

Many boys hold such a view of their father, and that makes perfect sense to me. As a child and even to this day, my dad has always been there for me, always ready and willing to do whatever it takes to save my skin and make sure that I want for nothing. He has either protected me or fought alongside me against countless dangers, whether they be physical, emotional or financial. He has taught me so much about life - about enjoying and taking care of nature, about morals and how to treat others, how to build things and how to fix things, how to be a decent, dependable person and a productive participant in this world.

He introduced me to adventure.

My dad and I have been together on many an adventure. We've been to scorching and inhospitable deserts, freezing mountain tops, and alpine forests. We've traveled to about half of the states in the country, as well as Central America. Our adventures range far and near, but it's the memory of those near that have had the greatest impact on my life. The camping trips we've taken are just about the fondest memories that I possess.

The stories told by my father around the campfire are impressive, but the stories told about my father by his buddies around the campfire are nothing short of awe-inspiring. I've been treated to stories about a man who was utterly without fear and seemed to know no physical limitation, who thought nothing at all of swinging a 20lb. sledgehammer with one hand or dead-lifting an engine block with his bare hands to move it around in his garage.

This beast of a man, whose feats are renown to those who know him well, is the same man who picked me up when I fell down. He's the same man who held me in times of sorrow, who dried my tears in times of anguish and counseled me in times of confusion - and would do the same tomorrow, should I need it. These reasons, above all others, are why I still look at him to this day and see a Hercules of indomitable love and protection. It is my hope and prayer that I've inherited at least some of these outstanding qualities, and that I can be the pillar of strength and comfort to my own children that my dad was to me.

This man is my hero.

Life is an adventure...

We might have many adventures within our lifetime, but each and every one is a part of our Grand Adventure, the story of our existence from infancy to death. As with all adventures, our Grand Adventure includes danger, excitement, bravery, romance and many other fantastic, incredible experiences. There are those aspects of adventure, however, that aren't so pleasant to experience: pain, defeat, betrayal, loss, failure, hopelessness... these are the parts that are seldom highlighted in stories, yet are often necessary components of them. Any life worth living is going to be fraught with trials and adversity, but the contrast that these dark times provide make the good times all the greater. When dark times do come - and they will - do not give in to despair, but hold on and know that they will pass. The hour is always darkest just before the dawn. This blog is about my adventure - highlighting the fantastic, but not excluding the unpleasant.