The Girl Next Door

Thirty-seven steps, forty-two in my favorite pair of flip-flops. That’s the exact distance between 278 Killgore St and 286 Killgore St. Forty-two steps is also the exact distance from my front door and the door of the woman that I was destined to spend the rest of my life with. Our story is peculiar and particularly amusing to the both of us. It’s the type of story that prompts us to instinctively smile at one another when asked, “how did you meet?’

She was wearing blue jeans, a light blue top and a light jean jacket when I first saw her. She had placed the trash from her house in the large brown can that sat outside of her garage. My immediate reaction is the same reaction I have when I haven’t seen her all day – wow… Not wow as in “You’ve won a million dollars!!” but more wow as in “so, that’s what beautiful looks like.” The chauvinist in me instantly assumed that she was the spouse of a very lucky Marine (we lived on base). Envy crept up my spine and turned my face a tad sour. She never spoke to me that afternoon and I can’t help but wonder if the look of disappointment on my face was an instant turn-off.

A single parent, I dreaded “getting back out there” for fear that I would never find true love and of course, I would repeat the same mistakes that caused my divorce. For a long time, I refused to date anyone so that I could ensure that I worked on my issues before inviting anyone back in to my life or my son’s. Living in a three bedroom house with nothing but my son’s nine year old world to keep me company can be a bit lonely. Nonetheless, I was hoping for “the one” and I wouldn’t settle for less.

Assuming the worse, I decided to grab a bottle of wine and try and be neighborly, although the gentleman next door had the pleasure of dwelling with the most attractive woman I had seen in a long time. To my surprise she answered the door again, this time donning a set of Marine Corps cammies. The beautiful woman by the trash can was also an extremely squared away Staff Sergeant. I introduced myself as her neighbor and informed her that if her and her husband (assuming) ever needed anything that, as a corpsman, I would be very happy to help. She said thanks, took the bottle and I walked the long, arduous thirty-seven steps back to my door (I was wearing my combat boots.)

A day later, the attractive SSGT knocked on my door and for some reason I instantly panicked. I learned that her name was Melissa so I no longer had to call her the “beautiful SSGT next door” when I thought of her. She told me that she appreciated the wine but didn’t have a wine opener. With lightning speed and agility, I had the bottle open and two glasses of Chardonnay poured before she could walk away. I asked if her husband was coming over and she informed me that she too was a single parent. Our similarities didn’t stop there. By the time I refreshed our glasses I found out that she was getting out of the military the same month as me, she wanted to move back to Texas like me, she was an avid Christian (big plus) and she had two beautiful children.

When Melissa left my house and returned to her own, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. It was as if God had shown me a glimpse of my future. Our conversation was very innocent but riddled with a very distinct connection. Though there was no husband, there was a boyfriend. I endured. I was positive that she was a blessing that was long overdue. After about a year, our situations changed dramatically and now I have the distinct honor of spending my life with her.

Forty-two steps. Forty-two steps separated me from my destiny and now I can’t be happier. Now, I never allow forty-two steps, miles, or hours to separate us. She is mine forever and that’s exactly how I saw the very first time I saw her.

Struggling

The very idea of struggling brings to mind a difficult situation that appears insurmountable by anyone’s viewpoint and definition.  You imagine a single mother sitting at a kitchen table toiling over a mountain of bills that she can't pay.  A man sitting in a hotel room with his face in his hands incapacitated with sorrow because he has allowed his indiscretions to remove him from his home.  A family, who once lived in abundance, now huddled in the back seat of a car (their last possession) using their bodies for warmth.

What if your problems are that great?  What if you knew exactly the cause and the moment that your struggle began?  What if you were the cause of your perceived struggle?  Most of all, what if your problems were only felt by you and the world refused to acknowledge them or show any sympathy for you?

Well, I'm there!  As with most Americans finances are a huge struggle for my family and me.  Were aren't losing our nest egg in the stock market.  Our home isn't threatened to be foreclosed.  We have plenty for our bills, just not enough for everything else.  At this point, anyone who has had to be financially creative will probably stop reading...I realize that coveting is a big no-no, but it isn't the "things" I covet as much as the lifestyle or ability to get those "things".  It is the desire to see exactly how green the grass is and find out for myself that the maintenance and upkeep of the grass comes with its on set of problems.

I find myself asking God why he didn't choose me to be a millionaire or a man with enough means to offer my family a comfortable lifestyle.  I know what his answer would probably be - to be happy with all He has blessed me with.  So am I wrong for wanting more?  Am I ungrateful because my desire is for my family to live in a big beautiful house and for my kids to go to great schools?  

I don't believe it's wrong but I do believe that if I measure my life on what I have than I run the risk of losing what God has in store for me.  It may not be riches or fame, it

may only be the opportunity to touch a life I have never and may never meet.  It may only be to address my sons or my daughter Mr. or Miss President.  How awesome would it be to realize one day that this life I cursed and despised was something bigger than I would ever be? 

Trust me there are times that I throw my hands in the air and wonder if God hears my pleas and sees my tears.  There are times that I wonder if my faith is vain, especially when it seems that those who have denied Him are basking in the fruit of abundance.

I have to believe in my heart that my prayers have not gone unanswered and that all that I seek will be revealed to me in time.  I have to believe that understanding God's plan and his infinite wisdom is beyond my feeble, earthly mind.  It gives me comfort to know that I’m not required to rely solely on myself to navigate the troubled, choppy waters of life.  

There was a time that the story of the man with no feet angered me.  Why would I stop weeping because I have no shoes because I met a man with no feet?  He doesn't need shoes!  But now I get it.  The point isn't to see that his need is greater but to focus on a need other than my own. Instead of weeping about my shoe problem I should reach out and help someone whose need is just as great as mine - because they too have a need!  Through faith, God will provide for my needs and my heart's desire so I have better things to do with my time and energy.  When I turn the focus from myself to someone else, the mountain I’m climbed suddenly feels like a small grade.  Loving thy neighbor applies today more than ever.  An outward focus makes an inward struggle manageable.  Suddenly in the midst of being in the presence of God's awesome power and love, I find that my only struggle is the desire to be more and not have more.  

Hearing God's Voice

Much like the wind the voice of God can be incredibly gentle, soothing  and unnoticable when compared to the hustle and bustle of our lives.   If we don't pay attention we can miss the intimate conversations God  so desperately wants to have with us.  I have tried to remove the word  coincidence from my vocabulary and recognize those incidents I have  written off as chance as God's gentle whisper in my ear. 

For instance, when I pray for favor on my job my boss opens my eyes to an  opportunity I was previously unaware of.  Or traveling to work or home  I seem to hit every green light.  This isn't luck but God showing traveling grace.  Conversely, when I'm in a situation in which i'm not  sure how to proceed God closes a door only to open another one.  With  this attitude how can I see any situation as negative? 

 So if it seems that I can't miss a red light or that a  police officer is following me for miles, maybe God's hands are slowing me down to protect me from unseen danger.  Maybe a disagreement with my  

wife is God asking me to see a side of a situation that no one but her could illuminate to me.

Don't get me wrong, I've known God to be quite brash in certain instances.  Usually he deals with me in the very same fashion I deal with my own children.  There are times they require my swift hand of justice or protection, a hand they fear but respect all the same.  I believe God is no different.

I believe that being a believer is a choice.  God has given us the awesome gift of FAITH.  To no longer be boggled down with why or how is  truly a blessing.  It is because I believe that "it" is.  I have faith that  to have an intimate conversation with my redeemer requires me only to close my eyes, open my heart and listen.

TMass

On Love...

My wife Melissa is truly the person that God has put on this earth for me.   She has stood by me for the past three and half years of our courtship and marriage through obstacles and turmoil that would have sent a lesser woman running for the hills.  Through it al,l I believe her faith in God and the beauty and wonderment of marriage has kept her faithful not only to me but to our future.  You see, my wife sees into me.  She doesn’t see the me that I am, (though she loves that broken man) she sees the man that I have the potential to become.  My wife understands that the only reason that a good woman is behind every good man is because that’s the perfect place to push him to the purpose and greatness that he has lying dormant inside him.  Boy does she push!!

I married a woman who has an affinity for competition.  Understand, when I say competition I mean any sport or contest that calls for two or more sides to face one another and one victor to emerge.  Recently, I sat quietly as my small 5’2” statured beautiful wife armed with a 12 gauge shotgun shot clay pigeons out of the sky after barking pull!  A strange blend of fear and eroticism overcame me as the brightly colored “pigeon’s” were obliterated by wife’s rifle and the men on her team cheered on her perfect and deadly aim.

A well spoken, opinionated, dainty, rough and tough United States Marine agreed to offer her emerald-green eyes for me to get lost in and her hand for me to marry on Valentine’s day in 2006.  I would be lying if I said every day was roses, actually I wouldn’t be lying I would be ignoring the fact that many of those roses were well protected with razor sharp thorns.  The word divorce was uttered more than once as we felt one another out testing the bonds of our union and questioning the other’s motives for doing “it” again.  Shouldn’t it be easier this time?  We’re older this time around and wiser right?  We aren’t enamored with the idea of love pass the point of reason like we were when we were younger.  We understand that love is more than poems, holding hands and lust…right?  Wrong!

I believe every single person in this world wants the fairytales that we pay millions for in the form of movies, books, poetry and music.  Otherwise, why would stories of prostitutes being loved for who they are by rich business men or a man living on one side of the country falling in love with a woman from the other side be so fantastic to us?  We love the idea of love; we love the idea that love is a fall, a stumble from our normal lives and rational thinking.  Love is an edification of a side of us that life tends to dumb down with our problems.  Love brings hope and the freshness and newness of a cool wind or warm spring day.  Love returns us to a place that, as infants, it was the only currency we had to attain the necessities of life.  No child ignores the power and magnitude a smile or a hug has on even the grumpiest and stingiest of grown ups!

Love, most of all, is promise.  Unfortunately that promise can often times be overstated or completely broken.  I believe in love but as I mature I also understand that love is a multi-paged contract that is well equipped with fine print and corporate verbiage that can easily be overlooked.  The words, “I love you” are so powerful that just the utterance can return hope to the hopeless or leave the betrayed forever bewildered.  “You said you loved me!”  Three words that are so complex in their meaning that any action that can be viewed as a deviation from their intent is an automatic breach. 

I've loved in the past and to be perfectly honest, not very well.  I've perpetuated the idea that love is selfish and unless my needs are being met, love is worthless.  The reality, of course, is that love in its truest form is the most selfless act that exists.  To say I love you means that I forsake myself for you.  "You" become my obsession and "Love" becomes my motivation.  "I" is nothing more than a directional term that helps me to stay on course.  I thank God everyday for the turmoil I have felt by my own hands and my own unwillingness to understand love and the power that it has.  I thank God for this because because without those tears, I would not appreciate and bask in the utter joy that I feel right now...

Blessed...

For the past two and half years, I have had the pleasure and utter privilege of sharing the responsibility of parenting with my wife.  We are a blended family in every sense of the word and of course, along with any blend there are subtle nuances that must be mastered in order to achieve an acceptable flow that's pleasing to the senses.  I entered the relationship with one child who would eventually become a big brother, a role although he is suited for, he does not take willingly.  My wife presented two beautiful children, a boy and a girl that would become my son's siblings and my "kids."

We share a sentiment that was introduced in my lineage that the concept of step-parenting would not be used in our house.  I often tell my children that the only "steps" in our house are the ones that lead to the front door.  This forced family oneness comes with it's own set of issues and dilemmas.  For the most part we have made the smooth transition from single households to a single household.  I love watching these children grow and in a often times voyeuristic fashion watching as life shapes and molds their individualism and personalities.

My oldest is the introverted jock.  The kid in high school we all knew was special but he rarely spoke of such greatness and his shyness (not humbleness) wouldn't allow himself to brag or boast of his achievements.  My youngest son has developed a middle child view of life that causes him to long for the spot of "the baby" while demanding the privileges of the oldest.  His personality speaks for his character and his outgoing nature allows him to speak to absolutely anyone.  He is bold in his demeanor and craves the spotlight by any means necessary.  Our youngest and only girl is just that.  She relishes in her many roles as "the only."  The only girl, the only one with a t.v. in her room, the only one who doesn't have to take out the trash, the only one who...etc.  

Yes, my wife and I are completely to blame for the double standards we have set in our home and we sleep at night with the comfort of knowing that life will repeat these standards throughout their lives.  For now we keep things fair only because we define fairness.  We act as judge, jury and unwilling participant.  My wife and I have learned to refrain from looking to heaven asking God silly questions such as, "what are we going to do about these kids?"  Instead, we make thought provoking statements, "Lord, you made them...teach us to raise them."

He listens and with every smile, accomplishment, goal, and gut wrenching laugh...He answers...