At sixteen, my Broadway dream was sideswiped by my parents. I was frustrated with them, but I didn't know what to do with this overwhelming feeling. Most of the time, I shoved my anger under the rug, and hit the books. (I got good grades, but only because I worked really hard for them. I wasn't "gifted" like my other siblings).
After my parent's decision, life changed. I started working more hours, studying harder, and dating this really nice guy... I didn't want to have a relationship with my parents, so I decided to date a guy simply because he showed interest in me... It was a bad time at home, just ask my poor mother, I was mean! So I found an out.
I honestly wasn't trying to be rebellious, I had just lost my identity. I had completely lost sight of who I thought I was going to be, and so I was searching. The question I was trying to answer that whole year was, "where else might I fit in the world?" My confusion and inability to forgive made me angry and grasping.
Looking back, I really did lead on my boyfriend at the time. I suppose it was very manipulative and selfish of me to continue seeing a guy, even after I knew I wouldn't ever marry him... but he could drive and dating was exciting.
I rationalized that no one in high school was going to be thinking about marriage for a while, so this was just about having fun! He was nice and polite and did I mention he could drive? In hindsight it was a terrible thing to do, but I was a self-centered sixteen year old. This is a big part of why I feel the idea of "courting" is a much better option, and my kids won't "date" in high school. But that is for another day....
Junior year, I kept busy. My life was filled with scholarship applications, testing, studying, working, and dating. Then, summer came.
By the summer of my junior year, I was so tired of high school, that in July, I had already made a count down to graduation. I was tired of my dating relationship and I was also counting down the days until the guy went away to college. I would get excited about the day I was no longer feeling compelled to make out with someone every time we went on a date...
I wasn't comfortable "making out" and wanted to just be done with it all, but was really embarrassed and uncertain how to step out of it, now that it ended every date. I had allowed it before I was ready, and before I was even really committed, and now I was stuck in this rhythm and hated myself for it. Every time we would pull in the driveway, I would cringe, "now he expects us to kiss because he drove me home..." I wasn't strong enough to break-up or say what I actually felt. I just wanted him to leave town. (Healthy relationship, right?)
I don't want you to get the idea that we did anything scandalous, I just really knew my tongue had no business in this guy's mouth and I hated myself for being so desperate to leave the house that I put up with these sloppy kisses I didn't want.
Even though I was plotting our break-up, I was too shy to follow through until he was tucked away in college. To be completely honest, I wasn't actually sure what I would do with my life once he was gone... He went to concerts, I tagged along, he did stuff with his family, he volunteered at church, he hung out with friends and played x-box, I tagged along (even though I hated x-box)... Mostly, he had made it so I didn't have to deal with my own life. He was a distraction, nothing more, nothing less, and then he went to college.
Finally, toward the end of July, my mother and I had a heart to heart. I showed her my count down to graduation, all 300 and some odd days of it. She realized how discontent I had become. We started talking about the post secondary option our school offered. She saw my longing to spend my time away from home and found a healthy outlet (she really was an awesome Mom, though I didn't fully appreciate it at the time).
MVNU, the local college, did a program in concert with the high school in which students take college classes for both high school and college credit.
MVNU also happened to be only seven minutes from my home. My mom and I made a plan. By August, I was not only going to MVNU full time, I was moving into a dorm, full time. I was seventeen and had worked hard. I had made enough money to pay for on-campus housing. In late August of 2002, I moved onto the campus of MVNU.
This led to one of the best years of my life. Although I missed my sisters and mom, I was so happy to be on my own. I had stopped performing in theater all together. My life's goal slowly changed from Broadway to "teacher" or perhaps even "professor." I loved every moment of college. I still worked in the cafeteria there, and I began working the morning shift. I was the "prep girl." I was able to set my strict, disciplined schedule and actually stick to it.
5:15am run
6:30 work
8:30 first class
9:40 shower and get ready for the day...
etc.
I broke up with my high school boyfriend the first month of college. I felt a bit guilty, but I knew I had to be honest, we really didn't have a future.
I was liberated and loving life.
My roommate had very different ideas about college, however. She was there to have fun, meet people, and find a guy. When she had people over, I went to the library. We never had much of a relationship. She wasn't annoying or a bad person, she just had different goals... I loved the academic stimulation of the classes. I loved feeling in complete control and like I was finally doing things "right." I was exercising, making money, and studying... and I volunteered at our church.
In my eyes, I had arrived at a rather sufficient state of righteousness. I was doing life right.
I had recommitted my life to Christ my first week of college, and I felt Him stir up a life and a love in me that breathed energy and passion even into my strictest of schedules. I still had no idea what a relationship with Him actually looked like, I still thought it was all about my performance, but at least I had reopened my hands to Him...
I remember walking out of my dorm, early one fall morning, and breathing in the changing seasons. The crisp air seasoned with fallen leaves, the moonless morning, the world dimly lit but exciting lay before me. I felt unencumbered, energized, at peace... for the first time in my life, I felt alive. I ran and prayed for longer than usual that morning, and I was almost late for work. This new and overwhelming joy became a daily delight. I can't think about my college days without a whisper of that feeling washing over me, those were good days.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
Caleb: I Attempted to Go to College
There I was, a semi-pro cross-country mountain bike racer, having the time of my life. I was young, single, and living at home with no bills. I didn't have any responsibility besides me, myself, and I.
I was working on an over-the-road construction crew, making good money, and taking off work with little to no notice. I was able to travel the country and ride the NORBA National mountain bike series. I was going places. The memories of the semi-pro races are still here. But I did all kinds of races in those years!
Like this one I did with my big brother Chad.
Or this one in Michigan.
I also participated in some grueling adventure races. Those were amazing. But they need their own post to do them justice. I was in the best shape of my life, and even during a 72 hour adventure race, I refused to take a caffeine pill! I was anti putting anything in my body that was a pill or drug of any kind. (I didn't consider alcohol a drug). I didn't really know what a caffeine pill was, but I was good without it.
At the top of my game, in mid June 2002, I entered a race here, the breathtaking Snowshoe, West Virginia. This was my favorite place to race. I really excelled at this course because of all the rocks, roots, and crazy-gnarly down hills. My parents came to watch me race that day. I can, to this day, recall the shrill screech of my mother, scared to death, as I flew past her and Dad down one of the awesome descents.
These races were big events for the riders. For the high altitude courses, I either tried to get there a week before the race, to ride the course and acclimate, or to fly in the day before, gear up, and hit it hard before my body even realized that I couldn't breath.
Snowshoe was the closest National event. Because it was close to home and my favorite, I would always go at least a week early. During that particular stay in Snowshoe, a cycling coach from Lindsey Wilson College in Kentucky scouted me out. A mutual friend pointed him in my direction and after he watched for a while, he asked me to enroll in his college and join the cycling team.
Of course, I told him to get lost. I hadn't even looked at book in four years..let alone written a paper. I never did care much for school. Math was okay, but reading, and writing !? I couldn't imagine why I would want to give up my perfect life to go to sit around and have to read stuff.
I happily rode in my race, and went home. One week later, the coach I blew-off at Snowshoe, called me at home. He asked me, again, if I "wouldn't at least come tour the campus and get a little more info?"
Again, I said, "No thanks, I'm good." Another week of my awesome life went by... Then, the phone rang, again, same coach.
Only this time, my mom said, "Caleb, maybe this is God trying to tell you something."
We decided to take the trip. What could it hurt? We packed a lunch the next day and I drove with my mother down to Columbia, Kentucky. When we pulled up, we found a really small, Methodist, Liberal Arts college.
Of course, after meeting with the cycling coach and taking a tour, I got really excited. I couldn't wait to move in that fall, even though it was just a few short weeks away.
I had no high school diploma, no GED... I didn't have anything that said I could even read or write and this guy got me enrolled in college with a full-ride scholership to race bikes. Oh, and I would be on a full expense paid cycling team.
The only thought I had, as I packed up my belongings to leave the only home I had known, was: "Wow, my dream of going pro is really happening."
The first couple of months, I was in pre-college level classes. They went well. I spent an hour learning to use a hi-lighter in one class... No big deal. I had amazingly fast teammates who pushed me and helped me get even faster.
However, this was the first time in my life that I was away from home for more than a week or two. I felt that I was invincible. I had complete freedom, or so I thought, and this is when I really start to drink, a lot, and first discovered pot. Many of my teammates smoked, especially the fast ones I hung out with. At first, I was hesitant, but I didn't really have any real defenses against it. I had never learned anything about it other than from my co-workers back home. Between their influence and watching these guys, it seemed like completely harmless fun.
I was still riding my bike six days a week, never missed class, and made it to a church service almost every Sunday. My walk with God, at this point, was merely just going through the motions for show. I went to church so that I wouldn't have to lie to my mother when she asked, during our Sunday talks every week, if i had been.
I used to get a lot of pride from seeing myself as an honest person. I hid stuff, I didn't tell the whole truth, but I didn't ever lie... so I kept attending church.
Time went on, and I received a letter from the college informing me that they just realized they didn't have my high school diploma on file. They notified me that I couldn't register for the Spring classes until they had it.
I quickly found a local place where I could take some pre-test practice and then, after spending three months in college, tested for the GED. I passed, got the results turned in and was good to go another semester.
Spring semester got even harder. I was actually taking a couple college level classes.
Even though my home education had taught me the Truth, I was still easily blinded by the counterfeit spiritual experience of getting high. I loved and respected my mom, and wouldn't have done anything she drilled into me and told me not to. At least, I was afraid of disappointing her, so I wouldn't pursue the relationships with girls like my friends did, I kept going to church, I didn't really see myself as rebellious, I kept the "rules" that made me feel like I was being a good son... And everyone knew pot was practically legal... Even some of the professors smoked... and Mom never said not too...
The rationalizations made my transformation seamless: from shy, quiet home school boy to campus pot dealer.
School work became less important than partying and I experimented for the first time with cocain. That turned into a few times, then extacy twice. My buddies and I would look the stuff up online before we tried it to see what it was and what it was supposed to do. We had no idea what we were messing with.
Then, the great entrepreneur lessons from my childhood paid off, and business was great. I thought I was somebody important. I walked around campus barefoot, wore hemp necklaces, I hadn't been "cool" before. Pot made me so cool. Everyone knew who I was...
My RD found out and then they were trying to find a way to get rid of me. I was on a history class field trip visiting Grace Land and I got the call... (to be continued)
I was working on an over-the-road construction crew, making good money, and taking off work with little to no notice. I was able to travel the country and ride the NORBA National mountain bike series. I was going places. The memories of the semi-pro races are still here. But I did all kinds of races in those years!
Like this one I did with my big brother Chad.
Or this one in Michigan.
I also participated in some grueling adventure races. Those were amazing. But they need their own post to do them justice. I was in the best shape of my life, and even during a 72 hour adventure race, I refused to take a caffeine pill! I was anti putting anything in my body that was a pill or drug of any kind. (I didn't consider alcohol a drug). I didn't really know what a caffeine pill was, but I was good without it.
At the top of my game, in mid June 2002, I entered a race here, the breathtaking Snowshoe, West Virginia. This was my favorite place to race. I really excelled at this course because of all the rocks, roots, and crazy-gnarly down hills. My parents came to watch me race that day. I can, to this day, recall the shrill screech of my mother, scared to death, as I flew past her and Dad down one of the awesome descents.
These races were big events for the riders. For the high altitude courses, I either tried to get there a week before the race, to ride the course and acclimate, or to fly in the day before, gear up, and hit it hard before my body even realized that I couldn't breath.
Snowshoe was the closest National event. Because it was close to home and my favorite, I would always go at least a week early. During that particular stay in Snowshoe, a cycling coach from Lindsey Wilson College in Kentucky scouted me out. A mutual friend pointed him in my direction and after he watched for a while, he asked me to enroll in his college and join the cycling team.
Of course, I told him to get lost. I hadn't even looked at book in four years..let alone written a paper. I never did care much for school. Math was okay, but reading, and writing !? I couldn't imagine why I would want to give up my perfect life to go to sit around and have to read stuff.
I happily rode in my race, and went home. One week later, the coach I blew-off at Snowshoe, called me at home. He asked me, again, if I "wouldn't at least come tour the campus and get a little more info?"
Again, I said, "No thanks, I'm good." Another week of my awesome life went by... Then, the phone rang, again, same coach.
Only this time, my mom said, "Caleb, maybe this is God trying to tell you something."
We decided to take the trip. What could it hurt? We packed a lunch the next day and I drove with my mother down to Columbia, Kentucky. When we pulled up, we found a really small, Methodist, Liberal Arts college.
Of course, after meeting with the cycling coach and taking a tour, I got really excited. I couldn't wait to move in that fall, even though it was just a few short weeks away.
I had no high school diploma, no GED... I didn't have anything that said I could even read or write and this guy got me enrolled in college with a full-ride scholership to race bikes. Oh, and I would be on a full expense paid cycling team.
The only thought I had, as I packed up my belongings to leave the only home I had known, was: "Wow, my dream of going pro is really happening."
The first couple of months, I was in pre-college level classes. They went well. I spent an hour learning to use a hi-lighter in one class... No big deal. I had amazingly fast teammates who pushed me and helped me get even faster.
However, this was the first time in my life that I was away from home for more than a week or two. I felt that I was invincible. I had complete freedom, or so I thought, and this is when I really start to drink, a lot, and first discovered pot. Many of my teammates smoked, especially the fast ones I hung out with. At first, I was hesitant, but I didn't really have any real defenses against it. I had never learned anything about it other than from my co-workers back home. Between their influence and watching these guys, it seemed like completely harmless fun.
I was still riding my bike six days a week, never missed class, and made it to a church service almost every Sunday. My walk with God, at this point, was merely just going through the motions for show. I went to church so that I wouldn't have to lie to my mother when she asked, during our Sunday talks every week, if i had been.
I used to get a lot of pride from seeing myself as an honest person. I hid stuff, I didn't tell the whole truth, but I didn't ever lie... so I kept attending church.
Time went on, and I received a letter from the college informing me that they just realized they didn't have my high school diploma on file. They notified me that I couldn't register for the Spring classes until they had it.
I quickly found a local place where I could take some pre-test practice and then, after spending three months in college, tested for the GED. I passed, got the results turned in and was good to go another semester.
Spring semester got even harder. I was actually taking a couple college level classes.
Even though my home education had taught me the Truth, I was still easily blinded by the counterfeit spiritual experience of getting high. I loved and respected my mom, and wouldn't have done anything she drilled into me and told me not to. At least, I was afraid of disappointing her, so I wouldn't pursue the relationships with girls like my friends did, I kept going to church, I didn't really see myself as rebellious, I kept the "rules" that made me feel like I was being a good son... And everyone knew pot was practically legal... Even some of the professors smoked... and Mom never said not too...
The rationalizations made my transformation seamless: from shy, quiet home school boy to campus pot dealer.
School work became less important than partying and I experimented for the first time with cocain. That turned into a few times, then extacy twice. My buddies and I would look the stuff up online before we tried it to see what it was and what it was supposed to do. We had no idea what we were messing with.
Then, the great entrepreneur lessons from my childhood paid off, and business was great. I thought I was somebody important. I walked around campus barefoot, wore hemp necklaces, I hadn't been "cool" before. Pot made me so cool. Everyone knew who I was...
My RD found out and then they were trying to find a way to get rid of me. I was on a history class field trip visiting Grace Land and I got the call... (to be continued)
Lindsay: My Story
My earliest memories are full of the essence of New York City. Dirty water dogs, salty, sweaty hands polishing off a soft pretzel at the Central Park Zoo, and the cool yet smelly respite of "the penguin house" in the heat of the day: my childhood.
We lived in Queens, New York. I had four siblings, a rather large family for the city, and when we entered the public school, we were called "the goldilocks family." Out of the eighty different ethnic groups in P.S. 22, we had some very rare blond hair. I loved every minute of being different.
When I was five, my grandfather, Papa, gave my mother the soundtrack for Les Miserables. By the age of six, I had every song memorized, except the two my mother always made us skip... At six, I decided my life's goal was to be Eponine or Cosette.
Also at six, I got saved. My daddy was a pastor and I was inquisitive and sat at the kitchen table with him and he helped me pray: an eternally valid six-year-old prayer.
So, at six, I knew my purpose: Broadway.
I knew my eternity was set.
Great things were coming. The city was mine.
Then, suddenly, my family moved to Ohio. It was after my tenth birthday, and the sameness of everything nearly suffocated me. I wore my brilliantly colored bell bottoms and my bright city clothes were my pride. They kept me close to the memory of my city... where I was something special... but they didn't get a warm reception among my new peers.
When I was five, my grandfather, Papa, gave my mother the soundtrack for Les Miserables. By the age of six, I had every song memorized, except the two my mother always made us skip... At six, I decided my life's goal was to be Eponine or Cosette.
Also at six, I got saved. My daddy was a pastor and I was inquisitive and sat at the kitchen table with him and he helped me pray: an eternally valid six-year-old prayer.
So, at six, I knew my purpose: Broadway.
I knew my eternity was set.
Great things were coming. The city was mine.
Then, suddenly, my family moved to Ohio. It was after my tenth birthday, and the sameness of everything nearly suffocated me. I wore my brilliantly colored bell bottoms and my bright city clothes were my pride. They kept me close to the memory of my city... where I was something special... but they didn't get a warm reception among my new peers.
My each of my
Thursday, April 24, 2014
It started in Innocence
Caleb:
I started out life as a home school kid with eleven siblings. Growing up, I did my best to be "good." It was a wonderful, loving, Christian home. Good behavior was most assuredly expected and required. My four older brothers went to pubic high school starting in ninth grade, so that they could play sports. I was the fifth born son. When it was my turn, I had the same desire as my older brothers, I wanted to play sports. This meant I had to attend public school. I was unaware at the time, but I believe now, that due to my older brothers discovering alcohol and "ways of the world," my mom was concerned and didn't want me to go to public school. I have a very chameleon-like personality and tend to adapt to the ways of the people I choose to surround myself with (or the people who surround me). But don't we all?
Of course, I was disappointed by my parents' decision, because this meant that I was not able to play football. But life went on.
The summer I turned 15, I went on a week-long bike tour, the Great Ohio Bicycle Adventure (GOBA), with my best friend, Aaron. We had grown up together in the "home school" setting. In order to go on the trip, I purchased Aaron's old bike for $50 (most of the gears worked). Then I proceeded to buy clipless pedals and shoes for $100. GOBA is approximately 3,000 people, and we rode on average 50 miles a day for a week. During this week long adventure, we discovered what we believed were some mountain bike trails and rode on them one evening at the end of the normal day's ride. Of course, we thought we had just done something AMAZING!
This was something that I thoroughly enjoyed and I got excited about trying out the trails back home. I couldn't wait to ride my bike off-road again. I asked around and discovered that there was an off-road trail outside of Loudonville, nine miles down Wally Road.
One Saturday morning, I set out in my jeans, a long-sleeved cycling shirt, no water, on my $50 diamond-back fully ridged "mountain bike." I road seven miles down 97 to Loudonville, thinking that Wally road was just across Rt 3. I headed on down, anticipating finding this mountain bike trail, but to my disappointment, 3 miles down that road, I discovered I was on the wrong road. I asked a gentleman if he knew the whereabouts of the Mohican Wilderness Camp Ground. He gave me directions, and I back-tracked the 3 miles to Rt 3.
Next, I road 9 more miles down Wally road to get to the Mountain Bike trail.
I arrived at the trail-head around noon, in the heat of the day, overdressed, with no water, and I barreled into the woods. About half-way through, a couple of other mountain bikers caught up with me. Thankfully, they had a bottle of water! (God goes before us!!) I had shared with them all about my morning ride. When they discovered I was a novice, and heard how far I had come, they correctly assumed I was completely exhausted and knew I had a long way to get home. They generously offered me a ride. I accepted. Since it was in the old days, before cell phones, I wouldn't have been able to call for a ride and would have...?
This experience, the awesome exhilaration of rushing down single-track through the woods, dodging trees and rocks, was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. It overcame my desire to play football. It also cured the sadness that had settled on my heart from not being able to play football. I had found my place in the world.
Within a month, I made my way to the local bike shop and spent my life savings of $1,057 on a full-suspension Schwinn mountain bike. I discovered a local mountain bike racing series and started racing mountain bikes. My first race was only two months after GOBA. I did pretty well on my first race. I was considered a natural. Racing consumed my life, it became who I was. I was all about getting more fit, better parts, better bikes, I spent every dollar I made on mountain biking in some way. This was also about a year into me "quitting school" and working full time on a construction crew.
Between the co-workers that I was around daily in the construction world (probably worse than any high school kids), and mountain biking becoming more important to me than anything else, the fragile relationship I had with God, began to quickly deteriorate. He was my mother's God anyway. I went through the motions because I knew it was right, but it was beginning to interfere with my Sunday racing schedule. Mom layered on the guilt. Sometimes it worked, other times I didn't care and did what I wanted to do anyhow. I tried to convince her that God could use me as a witness in the mountain biking scene. This was just so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about missing church to make it to a race.
My co-workers thought that I hadn't received the full education a 16/17 year old boy should have received. My mother thought they were decent fellows and that I was getting an education that would offer me a solid career. Hands on was just as valuable as what I could have learned from books at home, and since I was working with my neighbor, she didn't ask questions.
So between getting unplugged from church, and my co-workers "education" I was changing fast. I rode my bike daily, and became pretty successful. I started racing at a national level, traveling across the country. I was competing with pro and semi-pro athletes.
Staying away from everything but alcohol, I felt I was still abiding by the rules my parents had adamantly enforced. After some of the big races, I was starting to celebrate with the friends I was traveling with to these events. From what I witnessed in the construction world, I figured a few drinks every once in a while was still pretty saintly.
And so it began. A few drinks turned into, I got drunk. And then I knew what a buzz felt like. I began to really enjoy catching a buzz.
I felt that I was peaceful and relaxed when I would catch a buzz. But there is truly no peace better than what I have now free of addiction and buzzes. The peace that I have knowing there are no secrets between me and my family far surpasses anything from the past. The peace to know I can love and be loved, not be controlled by something anymore and constantly worrying about covering a lie with a lie or my double life being discovered, this is TRUE peace. Perfect peace. And it is beautiful to be able to have another chance. Having another chance isn't something that is only for me. It is available to any who desire it. A free gift, that is life abundant.
I started out life as a home school kid with eleven siblings. Growing up, I did my best to be "good." It was a wonderful, loving, Christian home. Good behavior was most assuredly expected and required. My four older brothers went to pubic high school starting in ninth grade, so that they could play sports. I was the fifth born son. When it was my turn, I had the same desire as my older brothers, I wanted to play sports. This meant I had to attend public school. I was unaware at the time, but I believe now, that due to my older brothers discovering alcohol and "ways of the world," my mom was concerned and didn't want me to go to public school. I have a very chameleon-like personality and tend to adapt to the ways of the people I choose to surround myself with (or the people who surround me). But don't we all?
Of course, I was disappointed by my parents' decision, because this meant that I was not able to play football. But life went on.
The summer I turned 15, I went on a week-long bike tour, the Great Ohio Bicycle Adventure (GOBA), with my best friend, Aaron. We had grown up together in the "home school" setting. In order to go on the trip, I purchased Aaron's old bike for $50 (most of the gears worked). Then I proceeded to buy clipless pedals and shoes for $100. GOBA is approximately 3,000 people, and we rode on average 50 miles a day for a week. During this week long adventure, we discovered what we believed were some mountain bike trails and rode on them one evening at the end of the normal day's ride. Of course, we thought we had just done something AMAZING!
This was something that I thoroughly enjoyed and I got excited about trying out the trails back home. I couldn't wait to ride my bike off-road again. I asked around and discovered that there was an off-road trail outside of Loudonville, nine miles down Wally Road.
One Saturday morning, I set out in my jeans, a long-sleeved cycling shirt, no water, on my $50 diamond-back fully ridged "mountain bike." I road seven miles down 97 to Loudonville, thinking that Wally road was just across Rt 3. I headed on down, anticipating finding this mountain bike trail, but to my disappointment, 3 miles down that road, I discovered I was on the wrong road. I asked a gentleman if he knew the whereabouts of the Mohican Wilderness Camp Ground. He gave me directions, and I back-tracked the 3 miles to Rt 3.
Next, I road 9 more miles down Wally road to get to the Mountain Bike trail.
I arrived at the trail-head around noon, in the heat of the day, overdressed, with no water, and I barreled into the woods. About half-way through, a couple of other mountain bikers caught up with me. Thankfully, they had a bottle of water! (God goes before us!!) I had shared with them all about my morning ride. When they discovered I was a novice, and heard how far I had come, they correctly assumed I was completely exhausted and knew I had a long way to get home. They generously offered me a ride. I accepted. Since it was in the old days, before cell phones, I wouldn't have been able to call for a ride and would have...?
This experience, the awesome exhilaration of rushing down single-track through the woods, dodging trees and rocks, was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. It overcame my desire to play football. It also cured the sadness that had settled on my heart from not being able to play football. I had found my place in the world.
Within a month, I made my way to the local bike shop and spent my life savings of $1,057 on a full-suspension Schwinn mountain bike. I discovered a local mountain bike racing series and started racing mountain bikes. My first race was only two months after GOBA. I did pretty well on my first race. I was considered a natural. Racing consumed my life, it became who I was. I was all about getting more fit, better parts, better bikes, I spent every dollar I made on mountain biking in some way. This was also about a year into me "quitting school" and working full time on a construction crew.
Between the co-workers that I was around daily in the construction world (probably worse than any high school kids), and mountain biking becoming more important to me than anything else, the fragile relationship I had with God, began to quickly deteriorate. He was my mother's God anyway. I went through the motions because I knew it was right, but it was beginning to interfere with my Sunday racing schedule. Mom layered on the guilt. Sometimes it worked, other times I didn't care and did what I wanted to do anyhow. I tried to convince her that God could use me as a witness in the mountain biking scene. This was just so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about missing church to make it to a race.
My co-workers thought that I hadn't received the full education a 16/17 year old boy should have received. My mother thought they were decent fellows and that I was getting an education that would offer me a solid career. Hands on was just as valuable as what I could have learned from books at home, and since I was working with my neighbor, she didn't ask questions.
So between getting unplugged from church, and my co-workers "education" I was changing fast. I rode my bike daily, and became pretty successful. I started racing at a national level, traveling across the country. I was competing with pro and semi-pro athletes.
Staying away from everything but alcohol, I felt I was still abiding by the rules my parents had adamantly enforced. After some of the big races, I was starting to celebrate with the friends I was traveling with to these events. From what I witnessed in the construction world, I figured a few drinks every once in a while was still pretty saintly.
And so it began. A few drinks turned into, I got drunk. And then I knew what a buzz felt like. I began to really enjoy catching a buzz.
I felt that I was peaceful and relaxed when I would catch a buzz. But there is truly no peace better than what I have now free of addiction and buzzes. The peace that I have knowing there are no secrets between me and my family far surpasses anything from the past. The peace to know I can love and be loved, not be controlled by something anymore and constantly worrying about covering a lie with a lie or my double life being discovered, this is TRUE peace. Perfect peace. And it is beautiful to be able to have another chance. Having another chance isn't something that is only for me. It is available to any who desire it. A free gift, that is life abundant.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Caleb: My Story
This, our story, is not easy to write. My name is Caleb. I am a redeemed (most would call it, recovering) eleven year heroin junkie. I have the most beautiful wife, Lindsay, who I now consider a wonderful gift from God and my best friend. We have been blessed with four very beautiful children. They make us smile almost continually with the way they think, the words they use, and the things they create. They can do anything with a roll of tape and some paper. Usually, you have to ask what it is, but it is always something unique!
I am semi-retired from a very successful electrical contracting company. I acquired my state license to be a contractor because of my wife forcing me to study at the end of each work day (and those work days were always too long for a family man). It was a dream of mine to have my license, but I lacked the drive to sit and study. She would sit me down, hand me the lesson she had prepared for that day, and say "Thirty minutes, GO!" As much as I felt that owning and operating my business was God's plan for my life, it now seems that it was an idol and it was more my plan than God's. As hard as it has been, due to the decisions that I made, it now appears that God is taking me down a different path.
Two years ago, my addictions took me to a place called "The Good Samaritan's Inn" in Hamilton, Ohio. This was my first attempt to get inpatient help. I only agreed to it because of a family intervention. (I have a very large family, but that is for another day). My wife and children dropped me off on Tuesday, December 18, 2012. My wife was due to have our fourth baby December 28. I made it one week in there before failing a drug test, due to sneaking in some Suboxone in an attempt to prevent myself from having extreme withdrawals. But I wasn't there to get clean, I was there to subdue my worried family.
A year later, unknown to my wife, I had been using again. She found out a little after Thanksgiving. She knew that I needed an inpatient program if this was ever going to work for me. I had gone through the outpatient programs twice, just to fall flat on my face every time... I was always just going through the motions to appease family and friends. Sneaking, lying, hiding, it came so naturally I had forgotten there was any other way to live.
Finally, my wife gave me the ultimatum: go or divorce. I didn't believe her about divorce, she had threatened before, but I knew I was in deep, spending on average $1,000 a week just to keep from being sick. I had ruined every holiday for years. I was tired of all of it.
I consented to go to Teen Challenge in Youngstown, Ohio. A good friend had been through their program and I was able to witness the amazing changes God had done in his life. He and another friend assisted my wife in delivering me there on December 27, 2013. It was the day before our youngest daughter's first birthday, but I hadn't made it home to her celebration the night before, that is how crazy things had become. I had rationalized everything very well. The evening of the 26th, her party, I had been more concerned with keeping a final customer happy than celebrating my daughter's first birthday. I had convinced myself it wasn't a big deal, I figured I could manipulate my wife to let me stay home a few more days so that we could celebrate the baby's birthday. For once, it didn't work.
I lasted 28 days in Teen Challenge. I will tell that story another day, but once again I was asked to leave. It wasn't Suboxone this time, it was because I got high.
I spent three days in Youngstown before I finally called home and asked my dad to pick me up, I knew not to ask my wife for a ride at that point. To my surprise, even he was not overly anxious to help me find my way home. Thankfully for me, my brother Josh was in the area doing some work. He came to the homeless shelter and took me home. That was the first time I realized the affect my decisions were really having on the people I cared about. Due to my inconsiderate actions, when I chose not to communicate with my wife for those three days in Youngstown, I put her in the position to go through with a divorce for the safety of our children and herself. She told me she had met with a divorce attorney and was in the process of getting papers drawn up. In that moment, it came as a surprise and shock to me, although I don't blame her. I'm not sure what I thought she was trying to hold onto and I now feel she was making the right decision. I still hadn't realized the half of what I had put her through.
For the first time in my life, I started praying with purpose. I was begging God to help me figure out what I needed to do in order to not lose my wife and children. I always had loved them, and never wanted to lose them, but was living in a foggy cloud that affected my actions and thoughts, causing me to make the wrong decision most of the time.
For a few days, I was living with my mom and dad. By the Grace of God, and after several phone conversations with my wife, I started to come to my senses and realized that living back at home was not the life I wanted. I knew it would be some time before I could live as a family with my wife and children, but I was finally willing to do whatever it took to begin the journey all the way home.
I called Teen Challenge, they wouldn't take me back for thirty days. I knew that wouldn't be soon enough. I couldn't maintain my sobriety that long without a safe environment, not yet.
At 9:00pm on Friday, January 31, 2014, I found myself online looking up "The Refuge" in Columbus, Ohio. It was local, it was free, and it was all about Christ.
The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was to volunteer to get locked away from everything I had ever known. I had to pass an interview to enter "The Refuge" the following Tuesday. I had to want to go to "The Refuge" or they wouldn't take me. I knew it would cost me my business. I knew it would cost me everything. But I was finally ready to be free.
It has been very difficult letting go, but as part of my redeemed life apart from drugs, I am learning to let go, and trust God. I am trying to walk in His perfect peace each and every day.
I now try to live each day by prayer and faith, my hands outstretched to God, letting Him fill them moment by moment. This is much more difficult than I ever thought. I am now excited about living my life for Christ and being a disciple of His, it IS a much better life waking up every morning and not dry heaving or feeling like I have the flu...
Instead of a daily fix, I have daily devotions. Instead of rushing off to get my next fix, while telling my family I needed to get to "work," I get to peacefully enjoy my mornings surrounded by giggling children. I make breakfast and get the kids off to school, every day is different now.
Instead of doing the jobs I want that make me the most money, I have been able to reach into the lives of others and do things like build shelves, clean gutters, fix a broken door for people who were not able to do these things for themselves. I feel so blessed that I can leisurely live. I discovered I do have spiritual gifts, even though I'm not an ordained minister.
It is amazing how relaxed I am, and how free I feel, knowing I don't have to commit myself to every customer who needed work done yesterday but decided to call tomorrow. God has blessed us above and beyond and I am no longer as concerned with chasing a dollar than I am with living life and doing the next right thing.
Hopefully as we journey together, we can all make the commitment each day to take it one day at a time and focus on just doing the next right thing.
I am semi-retired from a very successful electrical contracting company. I acquired my state license to be a contractor because of my wife forcing me to study at the end of each work day (and those work days were always too long for a family man). It was a dream of mine to have my license, but I lacked the drive to sit and study. She would sit me down, hand me the lesson she had prepared for that day, and say "Thirty minutes, GO!" As much as I felt that owning and operating my business was God's plan for my life, it now seems that it was an idol and it was more my plan than God's. As hard as it has been, due to the decisions that I made, it now appears that God is taking me down a different path.
Two years ago, my addictions took me to a place called "The Good Samaritan's Inn" in Hamilton, Ohio. This was my first attempt to get inpatient help. I only agreed to it because of a family intervention. (I have a very large family, but that is for another day). My wife and children dropped me off on Tuesday, December 18, 2012. My wife was due to have our fourth baby December 28. I made it one week in there before failing a drug test, due to sneaking in some Suboxone in an attempt to prevent myself from having extreme withdrawals. But I wasn't there to get clean, I was there to subdue my worried family.
A year later, unknown to my wife, I had been using again. She found out a little after Thanksgiving. She knew that I needed an inpatient program if this was ever going to work for me. I had gone through the outpatient programs twice, just to fall flat on my face every time... I was always just going through the motions to appease family and friends. Sneaking, lying, hiding, it came so naturally I had forgotten there was any other way to live.
Finally, my wife gave me the ultimatum: go or divorce. I didn't believe her about divorce, she had threatened before, but I knew I was in deep, spending on average $1,000 a week just to keep from being sick. I had ruined every holiday for years. I was tired of all of it.
I consented to go to Teen Challenge in Youngstown, Ohio. A good friend had been through their program and I was able to witness the amazing changes God had done in his life. He and another friend assisted my wife in delivering me there on December 27, 2013. It was the day before our youngest daughter's first birthday, but I hadn't made it home to her celebration the night before, that is how crazy things had become. I had rationalized everything very well. The evening of the 26th, her party, I had been more concerned with keeping a final customer happy than celebrating my daughter's first birthday. I had convinced myself it wasn't a big deal, I figured I could manipulate my wife to let me stay home a few more days so that we could celebrate the baby's birthday. For once, it didn't work.
I lasted 28 days in Teen Challenge. I will tell that story another day, but once again I was asked to leave. It wasn't Suboxone this time, it was because I got high.
I spent three days in Youngstown before I finally called home and asked my dad to pick me up, I knew not to ask my wife for a ride at that point. To my surprise, even he was not overly anxious to help me find my way home. Thankfully for me, my brother Josh was in the area doing some work. He came to the homeless shelter and took me home. That was the first time I realized the affect my decisions were really having on the people I cared about. Due to my inconsiderate actions, when I chose not to communicate with my wife for those three days in Youngstown, I put her in the position to go through with a divorce for the safety of our children and herself. She told me she had met with a divorce attorney and was in the process of getting papers drawn up. In that moment, it came as a surprise and shock to me, although I don't blame her. I'm not sure what I thought she was trying to hold onto and I now feel she was making the right decision. I still hadn't realized the half of what I had put her through.
For the first time in my life, I started praying with purpose. I was begging God to help me figure out what I needed to do in order to not lose my wife and children. I always had loved them, and never wanted to lose them, but was living in a foggy cloud that affected my actions and thoughts, causing me to make the wrong decision most of the time.
For a few days, I was living with my mom and dad. By the Grace of God, and after several phone conversations with my wife, I started to come to my senses and realized that living back at home was not the life I wanted. I knew it would be some time before I could live as a family with my wife and children, but I was finally willing to do whatever it took to begin the journey all the way home.
I called Teen Challenge, they wouldn't take me back for thirty days. I knew that wouldn't be soon enough. I couldn't maintain my sobriety that long without a safe environment, not yet.
At 9:00pm on Friday, January 31, 2014, I found myself online looking up "The Refuge" in Columbus, Ohio. It was local, it was free, and it was all about Christ.
The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was to volunteer to get locked away from everything I had ever known. I had to pass an interview to enter "The Refuge" the following Tuesday. I had to want to go to "The Refuge" or they wouldn't take me. I knew it would cost me my business. I knew it would cost me everything. But I was finally ready to be free.
It has been very difficult letting go, but as part of my redeemed life apart from drugs, I am learning to let go, and trust God. I am trying to walk in His perfect peace each and every day.
I now try to live each day by prayer and faith, my hands outstretched to God, letting Him fill them moment by moment. This is much more difficult than I ever thought. I am now excited about living my life for Christ and being a disciple of His, it IS a much better life waking up every morning and not dry heaving or feeling like I have the flu...
Instead of a daily fix, I have daily devotions. Instead of rushing off to get my next fix, while telling my family I needed to get to "work," I get to peacefully enjoy my mornings surrounded by giggling children. I make breakfast and get the kids off to school, every day is different now.
Instead of doing the jobs I want that make me the most money, I have been able to reach into the lives of others and do things like build shelves, clean gutters, fix a broken door for people who were not able to do these things for themselves. I feel so blessed that I can leisurely live. I discovered I do have spiritual gifts, even though I'm not an ordained minister.
It is amazing how relaxed I am, and how free I feel, knowing I don't have to commit myself to every customer who needed work done yesterday but decided to call tomorrow. God has blessed us above and beyond and I am no longer as concerned with chasing a dollar than I am with living life and doing the next right thing.
Hopefully as we journey together, we can all make the commitment each day to take it one day at a time and focus on just doing the next right thing.
And so it has been, and so it's written...
There is something sentimental about starting a public journal where we present our journey in honesty and vulnerability.
But now we are here, for you, dear reader, in hopes that our story can bring encouragement and hope to your story. When our stories intersect and hope is exchanged, something melodic comes to be. Alone, our pain has no purpose. Together with God, there is purpose in all things. Together with you, our story could be the strength you needed to just do the next right thing,
Welcome.
We have come home. If you're lost, perhaps we can help you find your way. If you made it home too, perhaps we can encourage you to stay. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you can join us and participate in something beautiful... Like these guys did:
Of course, our relationship will look and sound different, but I like to think it can be something just as beautiful.
Summer's coming.
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