I’m not a confident man. I doubt myself. Even as I write this, I wonder, “Are you sure you doubt yourself enough to write this?” I doubt my doubting. Doubts lead to a lack of confidence. The unknown world before me is one big chance for failure and rejection. I’m not blaming anyone for this. […]
It was a normal Monday; at least, I thought it was normal when I got a pop-up reminder “HMR Zoom Meeting.” I was at work and tried to remember what those initials meant. Then I remembered it was the “Helping Men Recover” training I was at when my friend Karen told me, “Deb was found
It was late November when my washing machine broke down. At least, I assume it’s broken; nothing happens when I hit buttons on the machine: no whirring, no movement, no water coming in or out, nothing. I tried to fix the thing myself, but nothing I did worked. I even called a local repair
Something bristles inside us Americans when someone suggests we don’t have the right to do something, especially when we say we don’t have the right to ask a question. In my mind’s eye (and ear), I hear angry people yelling with angry fists raised high in the air, “I am an American. I have the
I’m at the early stages of understanding grief. Its scope is more significant than I thought it was. Actually, I never thought about grief so much. I’m like a little boy lost in a department store without his mom trying to figure this out. I’m scared and alone, and I feel the need
Last night was a very dark night. To the outside, it may seem obvious, but to me, these grief waves always catch me by surprise. It’s my first Christmas without Deb, a holiday she loved. She was my Elf. There was magic in the air at Christmas time with Deb, and she helped me see
I’ve allowed periods of silence in my life, post-Deb that is. Silence allows me to think and to understand my feelings. I’m starting to like it. Sometimes, there’s a war going on inside me. Silence allows me to become connected with myself. It involves all of me: psychologically, spiritually, physically, and grammatically. I’m trying to
I compare myself to others and believe I’m supposed to be “grieving better.” I instinctively think others do it better than I am, so I respond with pressure. I push myself to “grieve better” even though I don’t know what that means. I get caught in the comparison game and always lose. I think
Our culture doesn’t know how to suffer. And since I live in my culture, I have become a bit of a “cream puff.” When I feel pain, I assume something is wrong and try to fix the problem. Something wrong happened, and it needs to be stopped. I struggle with the idea that
Tim Keller was an inner-city pastor and brilliant teacher. In his podcast, “Walking with God through Pain and Suffering,” he shared his some of his research for his book, “Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering.” He said, “Pain and suffering makes us all small.” I find this is true. In my
