The Road to Recovery

My dad got sober in the early '90s after a particularly rough bender that nearly took his life.  Thankfully, he found the gift of recovery instead of what he was looking for that night.  I never really thought too much of his drinking when I was a kid.  Sure he'd get out of control at times, but that was normal to us. Soon after rehab, his temper actually got worse.  We didn't understand what he was struggling with.  I know he wanted to drink, but he was determined to stay sober.  He later told me that Alcoholism ran in our family and that I would likely come face-to-face with it myself someday.  The disease eventually took some of our family members, but I'm so grateful that my father died a sober man. 

In my teenage years and early twenties, I considered myself a generally good person and did the things I thought I was supposed to do.  I worked hard, paid my bills, finished high school, went to college, and started a career. Lurking beneath all of the good in my life, however, was a destructive mess of bad relationships, debauchery, selfishness, lying, cheating, stealing, and the consequences that came with all of it: physical and emotional pain, financial trouble, and a constant lingering sense of guilt.  At the time, I couldn't (or wouldn't) see why my life was an absolute mess.  I knew I should stop drinking or at least slow down, but the insanity was that I didn't want to stop.  I drank daily, often to a blackout.  I lost most of my friends and nearly lost my job.  Despite all of the pain my drinking caused, I kept choosing the bottle.  Looking back, there were definitely a few times when God reached out with a helping hand, but I kept pushing it aside.

In 2006, I met Dara - my amazing wife, in case you haven't been following.  She was pretty awesome and I really liked spending time with her.  It was the first time I could remember wanting something more than my next drink.  I knew that some changes were in order if I had any shot of her sticking around.  She could see what I was struggling with, and I knew I had to make a choice.  By this time, my dad had several years of sobriety behind him and was more content, patient, and kind than he had ever been.  Remember Lieutenant Dan?  That was the kind of transformation my dad had (except he didn't get new legs).  He seemed pretty happy and peaceful, so I thought I'd try to find what he had.

Dara helped me look for a church.  Our first stop was a Baptist church that I had driven by hundreds of times.  We found the most down-to-earth pastor I had ever met (not that I've met too many).  One of his sermons was titled "Oops, I did it again".  Yes, he named a sermon after a Britney Spears song.  It still is one of my favorite sermons, which also turned me on to one of my favorite pieces of scripture (Romans 7:14-25).  He eventually came to visit with Dara and me a few times at my apartment.  I hinted that I might have a drinking problem and his response was perfect: "I don't know if you have a drinking problem, but the AA group that meets at the church on Tuesday nights probably would."  There was no judgment or further questioning.  I procrastinated for a few weeks before I finally went to that meeting.  I wasn't ready.  I didn't realize that recovery meant I really couldn't drink anymore, and the thought of never drinking again was just ludicrous.  Unfortunately, it took me almost another year of doing things "my way" and nearly losing Dara before I was finally able to give up and let these folks help me.

I started going to meetings every day and got involved.  I went to 90 meetings in 90 days, even in cities across the country when I traveled for work.  I listened to the old-timers.  They showed me how to make coffee and told me to "keep coming back".  I got a sponsor and followed his directions.  I stuck around and worked the program until the miracle happened.  AA helped me address my alcoholism, and my church helped me find salvation.  Neither of these gifts could have come to me without the other.  

Today I celebrated 15 years of sobriety by the grace of God, the good folks in AA, and the support of a handful of people who love and support me.  Dara was my rock, and we are blessed with two children who have never seen their dad drink.  I eventually stopped going to meetings regularly, but I still go when I need to.  It has been a long and bumpy road that I hope to share more about in this blog, but my worst day sober is a million times better than my best day drunk.

If you think you might have a problem with alcohol or just want to talk about it, you can reach me through the contact form at the bottom of this page or check out your local AA group.  They're great people, and I promise they can help.

The Grass Isn't Greener...

As I sit here gratefully employed on this quiet Christmas Eve morning, I was reflecting on where I've been and what I've learned over the past 12 months. 

I quit my job a year ago to pursue what I thought was a huge opportunity.  I enjoyed my old job and the people I worked with, but I had been approached several months earlier by a competitor with an intriguing proposition.  The new job was a big step up into a senior leadership position and a significant bump in pay.  The company was much larger globally, but a small player with a ton of growth potential here in the US.  They would also let me work remotely so we didn't have to move.  Over the course of several interviews, I had asked a ton of questions and done my due diligence to vet the company, its people, and the job, before making a decision.  Two weeks before Christmas, I submitted my notice and was promptly terminated for going to a competitor.  I expected that much and I didn't regret being honest with my manager about where I was going.

The first 6 weeks of my new job were pretty great.  I learned a lot and did my best to immerse myself in the new company culture despite COVID travel restrictions and working remotely.  The bigger paycheck and signing bonus were a nice motivational boost too.  Unfortunately, my excitement came to a screeching halt as I neared the end of my second month.  I was dealing with some challenges that were presented to me as mistakes made by prior leadership, so we worked through them in the spirit of building a better future.  I soon encountered new questionable decisions being made or suggested by others in the company.  I'm proud for pushing back and challenging these individuals despite wanting to make a good impression, but I wasn't always successful.  I began seeing red flags everywhere.  Trying to influence people to do the right thing became exhausting.  I brought my concerns to my manager, and he wasn't surprised.  Another red flag.  He sided with me and explained that we simply needed to drive change in the organization.  For a short period of time after our discussion, I thought I was up to the challenge.  I wasn't.  I had helped lead cultural changes in other organizations before, and it was a highly rewarding experience.  But I had never tried to do it alone, surrounded by people so willing to do the wrong thing or simply turn a blind eye to it.  I didn't think companies as misguided as this one still existed.

At the end of my 4th month, I was a wreck.  I hadn't slept in weeks and panic attacks were a daily occurrence.  I was grinding out 16+ hour days in the solitude of my basement office.  When I did come up for air, I took out my frustrations on my family.  My sweet daughter asked me one evening "Dad, why are you so stressed out all the time?"  It was then that I realized I was fighting a constant internal battle between my desire to please people and my need to do the right thing.  I lost that battle in early May after spending two days writing and revising a letter to say what my company wanted it to say about the safety of their products, but in a way that I thought I could live with.  The moment I clicked [Send], I instantly regretted it.  I printed the letter to read it because I couldn't believe what was on my screen.  I felt sick and ashamed.  I was disappointed at my lapse in integrity after a mere 5 months.  The slope is indeed slippery.  

I knew I had to leave, and my family knew too.  The idea of being jobless was much less-terrifying than being this new, worse version of myself.  If I could white-knuckle it through just one more month, I wouldn't have to pay my signing bonus back.  Instead of taking another ethical misstep, I prayed for help and immediately began writing my resignation letter.  Maybe I didn't have enough gusto, patience, or skill to lead change at this company, but I was ok with that.  I hate failure, but it's a blessing to know my limits.  My final closure came during the exit interview when the excuses I was given for the company's behavior made it clear that they had no interest in changing.

With my newfound appreciation of my old company and its culture, I reached out to a friend and found out that they hadn't yet hired my replacement.  Hat in hand, I called up my old boss.  To my surprise, he was excited to hire me back.  He gave me my old job with a small but unsolicited bump in my old pay.  I felt like the Prodigal Son who returned after a dark spell.  I think God was helping me learn some important lessons, and I'm so thankful that it didn't come at more of a price.  The past 6 months have been amazing!  Everyone is happy I returned, despite my fear that I would be seen as disloyal.  I wake up excited to work each day.  I'm proud and fortunate to work for a company full of talented people who always want to do the right thing, and you can't put a price on that.  After a brief stint on the 'other side', this side is better by a mile!

Start Walking

June 14th, 1997 was a clear, sunny Saturday.  I would soon be thankful that.  It was also the day that I took my SAT test.  You know, the test that was supposed to help determine whether or not you could get into the college of your choosing.  Like almost any other test I've taken in my life, I obsessed too much about it and did plenty of cramming to prepare for it.  At the time, I lived just outside Sunbury, PA and the test was being held 20 miles away at a high school in Shamokin, PA.  Early that morning, my father and sister dropped me off and wished me luck.

The test went ok.  It took several hours, but I got through it and ended up scoring high enough to get into most of the schools I was looking at.  After I finished, I wandered the halls of the school in search of a phone to call my sister to come pick me up.  When she answered, she told me that Dad was taking a nap.  I asked her to wake him up and see if he would let her come pick me up.  For some reason, he still hadn't gotten comfortable with her driving alone.  After a long hesitation, she set the phone down and went to wake him up.  A few minutes later, she returned and told me to find a ride home with one of my friends.  There were two problems with this.  First, I hardly knew any of the people who took the test that day.  Second, everyone else had already left.  After explaining this to her, I pleaded with her to come get me.  She sat the phone down again.  A few seconds later, I could hear my dad talking.  I couldn't understand all of it, but he was clearly pissed.  I was only able to make out the last two words: "start walking".  I started to panic.  She picked up the phone and said "Dad said to..." I cut her off.  "Yeah, I heard what he said, but is he serious?".  "Yes", she said.  I continued pleading with her, nearly in tears, but both of us knew this decision wasn't going to change.  After a minute or so, I heard him again "Hang up the phone!".  [Click]

I wish I had paid more attention to our drive than my last-minute cramming.  I had only a rough idea of how to get home.  No cell phone.  No Google maps.  Just me, my feet, and the shoulder of a long road home.  I think I cried for the first mile or so, which I regret.  I'm pretty sure it just made me even more thirsty.  After a couple miles, I decided to stick my thumb out and see if someone would stop to pick me up.  Almost immediately, I heard an approaching car slow down.  It passed me at a crawl and pulled over a short distance in front of me.  I thought "Holy cow, that was fast!".  I smiled and broke into a slow jog.  As a approached the rear of Joe Dirtbag's Camaro, he floored it, shot gravel into my chest, and flipped me the bird as he roared away.  Thirsty and humiliated, I cursed my thumb, put it back into my pocket, and continued walking.

I didn't really keep track of time, but I estimate that it took me about 6 hours to get home.  Obviously, it was a memorable experience.  I told my daughter the short version of this story last night, and even showed her the original copy of my test scores, accompanied by a quick pep talk on working hard to succeed in life.  After I kissed her goodnight, I began wondering (for the thousandth time) why my dad made me walk home that day.  Perhaps he wanted to "toughen me up"?  Maybe he was simply too tired?  I'll never know for sure, but I often try to reflect on these experiences to learn a lesson and gain something from them.  In this case, I realize that I am usually very reluctant and sometimes even embarrassed to ask for help...especially from strangers.  That's it!  I need to be more willing to ask for help.  I think I'll share this perspective with my daughter tonight.  It's certainly easier than a 20 mile walk. Life is better when you ask for help.

2017 Part Three - Affirmation

I believe that God has His ways of encouraging us when we're following his lead.  Whether it be with plans "falling into place", from overwhelming support from friends and strangers, or being filled with a calming sense of peace, He lovingly pulls us along the right path.  On the other hand, I've experienced a great deal of stress, frustration, and futility in trying to forge my own path, especially when I'm doing it for the wrong reasons.  I wanted to conclude this third and final part of our family's transition by sharing some of the things, both big and small, that assured us we were making the right decisions.

One of the first miracles was actually landing my new job.  Before I even applied though, it was amazing that my best friend had recently joined the same company and was able to give me his first-hand account of what it was like to work there.  Another miracle was the fact that we sold our home so quickly - in about a month.  We had a lot of "stuff" to get rid of before we moved, so we spent a lot of time selling things on Facebook, Craigslist, and one big yard sale.  I think some people wonder why you're selling your stuff, so we made it a point to note that we were moving and everything had to go.  Naturally, the folks we met during this time would ask us "Where are you moving to?".  When we said "Lancaster", every single person would respond with some encouraging story about how much they love the area or that they had friends who lived there and loved it.

When we were searching for our new house, every home we turned down was a clear "no" for us.  There really wasn't much uncertainty or debate.  We tried to purchase two homes, and both of those opportunities were abruptly taken out of our reach.  When we found the home we ultimately bought, there wasn't anything for us to say "no" to.  The neighborhood was bustling with children, the schools were great, and the neighbors were awesome.  When I looked at the house for the first time, I had the chance to meet a couple of our future neighbors.  They told me we had to buy the house and that, even though they hadn't met my wife yet, they said I seemed "okay" and if she married me, she must be "okay" too!  We hadn't even put in an offer on the house and we already had some cool new friends.  A week after we moved in, the neighborhood had their annual block party.  Our new friends introduced us to a LOT of other families in the neighborhood!  I also learned that there was a men's group that met every 2 weeks just a block away from our house.  It turned out to be a great way to meet some of the other guys in the neighborhood, have some fellowship, and discuss our day-to-day struggles with being a good father & husband.

Awesome stuff happened at my new job, too.  During my first week, I was in orientation with several people who shared that they didn't drink.  This was encouraging for me, since I was not looking forward to having to explain to my new coworkers that I didn't drink either.  It just kinda' came out quickly and painlessly.  Early-on, when I was still commuting and staying at my buddy's place during the week, I found an awesome Wednesday evening bible study.  I had asked my cube-neighbor where I should take some cardboard for recycling.  She said that she usually takes her cardboard to church for crafts and other projects.  I asked her where she went to church, which eventually led to an invitation for me to join them on Wednesday nights.  We hadn't even moved yet and I already had a lead on a great new church!  I was also very surprised by just how many of my new coworkers were Christians and/or actively involved in a local church.

Our actual move did not disappoint either.  A bunch of folks from our old church family had volunteered to help us pack and load the U-Haul.  Of course I didn't want to actually ask for help, so I nonchalantly agreed that we could use "a few extra hands with some of the heavy stuff".  Thank God a literal army of our church members and their families showed up on moving day.  I had seriously underestimated the amount of stuff that we still had to pack and get into the U-Haul, and we definitely needed their help.  One family took our children so that we could focus on packing.  Our pastor packed that truck like nothing I've ever seen before...and I've moved A LOT.  After we had everything loaded up, I'm not sure you could've found a hole big enough to fit a baseball.

Dara and I still ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish packing and cleaning.  Now, we had to drive our cars (separately) to Lancaster for our closing, come back for the U-Haul, drive it down and unload it, then make another round trip to get everything out of our storage units.  We could have taken an extra day to rest, but I had only reserved the U-Haul for 2 days.  We were exhausted, and my rough timeline estimate was telling me that we'd get less than 4 hours of sleep in the next 24 hours if we were going to get everything moved in time.  About 20 minutes into the drive, I really started feeling the sleep deprivation and  I began to panic that we'd never finish in time or that I'd end up in an accident.  Just then, I received a text from our pastor.  He wanted to make sure that we had help unloading in Lancaster.  Somehow, he knew that we needed help.  Not only did he have the U-Haul waiting for us at our new home after our closing, he also managed to recruit one of his buddies in Lancaster to stop over after work and help with the unloading.  We finished the first load in time to get a full night's sleep so that my buddy Scott and I could make the final round-trip in the morning.

We found out that our daughter's school had just been built that summer.  The idea of being one of the first 2nd graders to ever attend this new school seemed to take some of the "new kid" jitters off of her mind.  We had another incredible surprise when we learned that my best friend's wife also got a new job...as the Vice Principal of our daughter's new school!  Now she practically had a family member working at her school.

We knew this transition would be challenging.  In many ways, it definitely was.  We ended up having to dump a considerable amount of money into repairs at our old home, but we still tried our best to find a little joy in the fact that our sacrifice was a blessing to the new owners and their family.  We didn't let it drag us down.  So many other things were working out far beyond our expectations.  I have no doubt we're supposed to be exactly where we are, and I'm so grateful for the many people who have touched our lives and given so much to help our family.  I'm looking forward to discovering why God brought us here and what He has planned for us next.  Whatever it is, I hope and pray we can do it with the same amount of faith, ambition, energy, and support.  Through Him, all things truly are possible.  It is true for us, and I promise it is true for you too.

2017 Part Two - New Home

Soon after accepting a new job that required my family to relocate to Lancaster, PA, we began the process of selling our home and searching for a new one.  As we began the process of listing our home for sale, I instantly regretted my procrastination of the home improvement projects that my wife had been asking about for months.  Time and money now didn't allow for much more than a quick bathroom renovation and some light painting, but apparently it was enough.  We were very blessed to find a buyer within 3 weeks, which put our house hunting into overdrive.

My best friend, Scott, and his wife allowed me to stay at their place so that I could start my new job until we were able to relocate to the area.  Their incredible generosity allowed me to focus on work during the day and spend the evenings house hunting.  Unfortunately, it also meant that my amazing wife would have to take care of the children on her own while also continuing to work three days a week.  My family spent a lot of time on FaceTime in the evenings to help us stay connected while we were apart.  Some of my evening chats were fun and silly, while others ended with teary-eyed pleas for me to come home.  It was tough, but we knew it would be worth it in the end.

We understood our "needs" and "wants" when it came to a new home, and we were prepared to make the necessary concessions on our wants in order to meet our needs.  With what seemed like very little effort, we assembled a list of several homes that we wanted to check out.  At the top of our list was a great home that, despite being a little far from my job, seemed perfect for us.  To be thorough, we checked out a few other homes before making an offer on it.  We carefully negotiated our terms with the owners, who seemed quite committed to selling to us despite our need for a contingency on the sale of our home.  It was "for sale by owner", so we had some additional hoops to jump through in order to get our offer submitted.  Our realtor graciously volunteered to help us submit our offer "free-of-charge", assuring us we would only have to pay a small administrative fee to her office if our offer was accepted.  What she didn't tell us is that her next phone call would be to the sellers to ask for a 3% commission.  This nearly cost us the deal.  The sellers responded by giving us 24 hours to find a lawyer to draft the agreement before they moved on to other offers.  It wasn't until we shelled out nearly $600 in attorney fees that they told us they wanted to be able to accept a better offer right up until our closing date.  This was non-negotiable for them and unacceptable for us.  Frustrated at having wasted nearly 3 weeks on this process, we moved on and resumed our search.

One of many homes that didn't make the cut.

We looked at several other houses over the next few weeks.  Most of the homes were in bad neighborhoods, had poorly-rated schools, or needed significant repairs.  We certainly didn't mind getting a 'fixer-upper' with good bones, but we couldn't afford a major project.  Our search eventually turned up another charming and affordable home in a nice development, so we decided to check it out.  We hadn't wanted to move into a big development, but we also hadn't considered the sense of community that these types of developments could offer.  The first thing I noticed as I arrived was the many families with children outside playing and the sound of laughter all around.  I was excited that this could be our new neighborhood.  The house was pretty great too.  It was fairly new and in need of no major repairs.  It had a great layout, enough (but not too much) space, and a decent yard with a spectacular sledding hill.  Unfortunately, Dara couldn't make it to the showing, so she would have to settle for cellphone video footage of the walk through.  We knew we needed to make an offer on this house, and fast!  The closing on our home was just a short 5 weeks away, and we didn't have any more time to waste.  Just for fun, and because I had a little extra time that afternoon, I asked my realtor to show me another home that was just around the corner in the same neighborhood.  It was definitely out of our budget, but it kept showing up on our Internet searches and seemed amazing in the photos.  In person, it did not disappoint.  We loved everything about it except the price.  Dara agreed, and we decided to put in an offer on the more-modest home that night.

The next day, we received a call from our realtor.  She was having trouble reaching the owner to find out if our offer was accepted.  We said a prayer and continued to wait.  A few hours later, we received another call.  Our realtor sounded frustrated and explained to us that the owner had abruptly left the country, with no response to our offer.  In fact, she didn't even know if or when the owner would return.  We felt defeated.  With less than 5 weeks to find and close on a new home, we became desperate.

Dara and I spent several long nights on the phone revisiting all of the other homes we had seen.  We didn't want to rush into a home that we'd regret, but we also realized that we needed to lower our expectations if we were to find something quickly.  To avoid "buyer's remorse", I suggested that we just needed to find a rental.  Dara wasn't crazy about the idea, but it was certainly more attractive than going into debt for a home that we hated.  Do you want to know how many rentals we found in Lancaster County that would be big enough for the four of us and was willing to allow our 3 dogs?  Two.  One of them was out of our budget, and the other was just awful.

The next few days were torture for me.  I obsessed over the worst that could happen if we couldn't find a place to live before our house was sold.  Would we actually be homeless?  Probably not, but we'd definitely have to continue living apart, find storage for all of our possessions, and board our dogs for weeks using money we didn't really have.  I lived a constant panic attack for two straight days.  When I came home from work, Scott asked if I was alright.  I could see that he was genuinely concerned.  I wasn't ok.  I was terrified.  I went upstairs, fell to my knees, and buried my face into my hands.  I began asking myself: "What have I done?"  "Am I making a mistake?"  "Will I be able to take care of my family?"  "What is going to happen to us?"  I cried out to God: "Please help us"  It was at that moment that I realized I had replaced my praying with worrying several days earlier.  I had stopped trusting that God would provide, and I was back to trying to do things on my own.  No wonder things seemed to be an unmanageable mess!

The next day, I shared my realization with Dara.  She hadn't lost faith and she assured me that everything would be ok.  She suggested we revisit our list of prospective homes again.  Of course our dream home showed up again and we joked about whether or not the sellers would accept a low offer.  We had skipped over it so many times since starting our search, but this time we somehow felt compelled to seriously consider it.  We had exhausted all other options and already tried to buy two previous homes with no success.  With nothing to lose, we prayed about it, double-checked our budget,  and decided to make a crazy offer.  The next day, our realtor informed us that the sellers had just left for vacation.  (Of COURSE THEY DID!)  We simply laughed and kept praying.  God surely has a sense of humor.  This was in His hands, and we knew it. 

Less than 24 hours later, we learned that the sellers accepted our offer and we were under contract for our new home!  It was an incredible blessing after one of the most difficult tests of faithfulness that I have ever faced.  This journey certainly reminded me that God will provide for us, and His plan is often different than what we're expecting.

2017 Part One - New Job

For most of the 11 years my wife has known me, I've been a student.  We met when I had just started working on a business degree part-time in 2006.  It took 5 years of hard work and sacrifice to earn that degree, but the result was worth it.  My wife took on more than her share of housework and parenting while I studied.  She never complained and was a constant source of encouragement for me.  After graduation, I was blessed with a series of promotions that allowed us to buy our first home and pay for the birth of our first child.  We were amazed by what God had helped us to accomplish as the sun set on our twenties.  In 2013, we decided that our long-term goals would be easier to achieve if I went on to earn my MBA.  My best friend, Scott, had the same idea, so we decided to apply to graduate school together.  It was amazing to have him as my classmate, and surreal when we attended graduation together just 2 short years later.

A year before earning my MBA, I applied for another promotion.  It seemed as though it could be my dream job.  I thought it was the opportunity that would finally allow us to live on my income and allow my wife to become a full-time mom.  I also thought it would be the type of job that would challenge me in many exciting ways.  It almost was.  I got the job and, for awhile, it was everything I'd hoped it would be.  I worked for a great leader and learned more in 6 months than I had in the previous 6 years, but it was short-lived.  A few months after earning my MBA, change happened.  Through a bizarre twist of events, my boss was fired, our team was disbanded, and I found myself passively demoted several levels, stripped of 10% of my pay, and working for one of the most awful people I've ever met.  I had taken a chance, but it didn't work out.  I was miserable, but thankfully God had a plan.
Within a year, I was fortunate to get the opportunity to make a lateral move into IT, working for another great leader with a fun team.  It took a lot of the sting out of my daily work life, but the damage had already been done.  My passion for my work and for the company that had gainfully employed me for more than 17 years was gone.  I knew it was time to start looking for a new career outside my company.
Dara and I hoped and prayed that I could find a new career locally so that we didn't have to move.  Our family had really put down roots and we had just welcomed our newest addition, Fletcher, into this world.  We were plugged into an incredible church family and, other than my job, life was absolutely perfect.  I occasionally dropped hints to Dara that we might have to consider relocating in order to find my new career, but she didn't bite.  For months she made it clear that, although we had worked so hard to put me through school, there were more reasons for us to stay put.  She was right.  I didn't know it at the time, but God was working in her heart too.
In December 2016, with no warning at all, she said to me "I think God wants me to stay at home with the kids, and I know we're going to have to move in order to make that happen.  I think we can consider moving."  I was pumped and immediately got to work.  I diligently studied and applied what I learned from Dick Bolle's Flower Exercise and renowned job-hunting and career-changing bible, which gave me precise direction on what my next career should be (I highly recommend his book - it was amazingly helpful).  Dara and I spent some time discussing potential destinations (Orlando, FL and Lancaster, PA were at the top of our list) and I expanded my job search.  That January, Scott started a new job with a building products manufacturer in Lancaster, PA.  From a logistics standpoint, Lancaster was certainly an easier move than Orlando.  It would also be awesome to live so close to my best friend.  The right position at this company would keep me in an industry in which I had nearly two decades of experience.  I asked him to keep me updated on how he liked the company and the people who worked there.  In a very short period of time, his feedback convinced me that it was definitely worth a shot.  I found and applied to three different job openings at his company.  Up to that point, I had applied for 17 jobs in 3 different states, resulting in only a pair of phone screens but not even a single interview.  My expectations were low, but I stayed patient and prayerful.
Two months after applying, I was finally contacted by one of the company's recruiters.  That call began a 3-month process of phone and in-person interviews.  I was blessed to have close friends and former colleagues who had made similar transitions, and were willing give me a lot of incredible advice and support throughout the process.  Everything about the job seemed perfect - it would be immensely challenging, but it would also leverage my strengths and experience in a way that I knew I'd enjoy.  I continued to wait and pray. 
Just as Charlotte finished her last days of the school year, I received an offer.  Now, in "Dave's Plan", the ideal opportunity would help us to relocate and would pay enough to replace Dara's income so that she could be a full-time mom.  An offer like that would have made the decision very easy for us.  Their offer was reasonable, but was much less than what we were hoping for.  They wouldn't budge on my counter.  We prayed hard about this, asking God to make it clear to us if we could make this huge transition.  We thought back to December when we started this process.  We reminded ourselves that we weren't making this change for the money, but primarily to spend more time with our children. When we took a harder look at our budget and trimmed it down to just our necessities, it almost exactly matched their offer.  I realized that this was God making it clear to us that he would provide what we needed.  Of course it wouldn't be an easy decision; it would require faith and sacrifice.  We decided to be faithful enough to take this opportunity as the blessing that it truly was  I got an amazing new job, our family found a new town, and our children get to be with at least one of us every day.  As I walk into work each day, I thank God for this amazing life and trust Him with whatever comes next. 

Hit Me!

Special thanks to my pal and gifted artist, Anwar Hanano
for recreating this epic moment for me.

I've said before that my dad was a really smart dude.  Genius at times.  But his plans didn't always work out as planned.  This is one of my all-time favorites, so I hope you enjoy it too.

When we moved up to PA in 1994, we had arranged to rent a trailer in Sunbury under the premise that the landlord would build a ramp or provide a lift to help my father get in and out of the trailer safely.  For as long as I can remember, my dad's primary means of getting in and out of elevated spaces (especially our van) was a pair of 6' long aluminum ramps.  Prior to moving to Pennsylvania, we had gotten used to the fact that they would become a bit slippery in the rain.  What we hadn't experienced yet was how impossibly slick they got when exposed to snow.
The process of unloading my dad from the van usually went something like this: Set the ramps up with one end on the ground and the other end in the van.  Walk up the ramps to grab my dad's chair, and guide him backwards while walking back down the ramps.  Once he started down the ramps, he couldn't stop.  Otherwise, his momentum would kick out one or both of the ramps, dropping everyone to the ground backwards and head-first.  Standing on the ramps helped keep them in place, but safety was never guaranteed.  He must have fallen literally dozens of times.  Now, imagine walking up those ramps with snow-covered boots for the first time.  "Slippery" is an understatement.  Fortunately, I planted my chest instead of my face into them when I fell.  Shockingly, this only happened once.  This was the means we used, in the snow, to get in and out of the trailer while waiting for our landlord to follow-through on his promise to build a safe, permanent ramp.

My dad tolerated only one fall from the trailer before he began to threaten our landlord with a lawsuit.  The Americans with Disabilities Act was passed in the early 90's, and my father was keenly aware of its provisions for accessibility requirements.  Our landlord dismissed him with empty promises for weeks.  That's when he took things into his own hands, and his litigious threat became real...

He told my sister and I that he was going to have a bad accident, and that we'd get our payday, get a permanent ramp, or both.  He said it might hurt, but it would be worth it in the end.  I have to admit that at the time, "sticking it to the man" seemed like an exciting idea.  It was easy to villainize our landlord after watching my dad's head bounce off of our concrete sidewalk the first time he fell backwards out of the trailer.  Dad's plan was simple.  We'd stage a fall, call 911, and let the lawyers handle the rest.  Unfortunately, he said our injuries needed to look real...and my dad was an "all-in" kinda' guy!

He said I was going to have to hit him in the face.  We needed it to look like his face hit the ground, hard.  I laughed.  He looked like he was serious.  We had an old heavy dictionary in our living room.  It was about 3" thick and had a coarse canvas cover on it.  He told me to pick up the dictionary and hit him in the face with it.  I laughed again.  Surely he wasn't serious.  He braced himself in his chair and said again "Do it!"  I nervously picked up the dictionary and stood in front of him.  "How hard?", I asked.  He said "Hit me in the face...as hard as you can."  Confused, I gave a reluctant, half-hearted swing that was apparently just enough to make him flip out.  "Damn it Dave, Hit me like you mean it!", he said.  I protested again "No, I don't want to hurt you!".  I started to cry.  He yelled louder.  I refused.  He started slinging insults and profanity.  At some point in the heated exchange, the word "numbnuts" came out of his mouth.  For some reason, being called "numbnuts" always pushed my buttons, and he knew it.  Something inside me snapped.  I lost control.  Everything went silent.  I stepped into it and laid him out.  CRACK!  He went limp and slumped over in his chair.  My eyes widened.  My sister screamed.  Seconds later, life began to return to his body.  As he licked his lips, one of his eyes opened, and he said in a rather subdued tone "Yeah, that...that's what I'm talking about."  Then he looked at my sister, slowly nodded, and said "Now".  I thought "Now?  Now what?"  I turned to my sister, and before I realized she was holding my aluminum baseball bat, she dropped me with a direct hit to the inside of my knee.  I fell to the floor.  For a moment, it was excruciating, but the pain was quickly replaced with numbness and swelling.  The part of his plan that he hadn't told me about was that he and his chair would be falling on top of me.  He must have known I'd never volunteer for that part, so he had his own arrangement with my sister to follow-up with the bat on his command.  There was still one more step we needed to complete to prepare for the fall.  He thought that it would legitimize our plan even more if his wheelchair batteries leaked some of their acid on me while we awaited the ambulance, so he had me loosen the caps on one of them to ensure the leak.  He had me tear one of the legs of my jeans for good measure.  We were a mess!  My knee was now nearly the size of a softball, and my dad had a small open cut above his eye, in the center of a decent goose-egg from the dictionary.  Now, we just needed him to fall on top of me.  Based on past accidents, this should be the easy part.  I backed my dad about halfway down the ramps, and he came to an abrupt stop.  Nothing happened.  Of all the times for the ramps to NOT kick out, of course this had to be one of them.  My dad, being the quick thinker that he is, told me to lift up one side of his chair so that my sister could kick the ramp out from under him.  I gave it everything I had, which apparently was just enough as my sister kicked out the ramp.  My dad and his chair instantly dropped on top of me, trapping my leg underneath the chair.  The fall hurt more than I thought it would.  It took maybe 30 seconds for the acid to reach my leg.  At first, I just felt wetness wicking up my pant leg.  Then it reached a cut that I must've sustained in the fall.  My GOD it burned!  My sister placed the call, and the ambulance was on the way.  It was then, trapped under my dad's chair with a busted knee, soaked in battery acid, that I thought "What if this doesn't work?".

The ambulance showed up and "rescued" us.  I remember having my jeans cut off of me in transit to the hospital.  It was a bit humiliating.  Remember that thing your mom probably told you about clean underwear?  It's good advice.  They asked what happened, and I gave them the rehearsed version of the story: "We were coming out of the trailer, he fell on top of me, blah, blah, blah".  They seemed skeptical, but I was probably just paranoid.  I mean, c'mon...they did just find me buried under this dude's wheelchair.  We spent a few hours getting cleaned up in the ER before they released us both.  After we got home, I spent another few hours cleaning up all of the spilled battery acid in and on my dad's chair.

Here's the best part...We never saw a cent or even went to court.  Apparently, our landlord's lawyer had a bigger bark than ours.  We did, however, convince him to finally put in a wheelchair lift for my dad as a safe way to get in and out of the trailer.  We were evicted within a year.  I suppose we deserved that.

Today, I'm actually glad that we ended up on the losing side of this one.  Even though it was successful in getting the lift that we needed to safely get my dad in and out of the trailer, I think our true goal was really to make some much-needed money.  Had we succeeded in suing the landlord, I may have started to think that this type of scheme was an effective way to make "easy" money later in life.  Instead, we learned the hard way that it was the wrong way.

My dad did eventually learn to trust God with his life.  I did too, and I'm so grateful to know that I don't have to dream up some elaborate scheme in order to get by.  I still have to work hard, pray for guidance, and do the right thing, but trusting the Big Guy is miles better than the consequences of searching for an easier way at the expense of making bad decisions.