The year was 1979 and for all I knew, my life was normal, lower mid-class family, living in North Minneapolis. Nothing significant or out of the ordinary. I was baptized in 6th grade at a LCMS right after a service on a beautiful Sunday morning, My mother usually brought us to church on the bus… but today, My father drove us. Dad only stayed for few minutes before he needed to take a cigarette break that lasted the rest of the service. So there I was, “normal”. I had no clue bare butt spankings with a wire coat hanger that left stripes, stripes that fused to your underwear. I knew it wasn’t “right” but was it not “normal”? Public humiliation & belittling for wetting the bed, that is normal too?….Profane insults, horrible words & statements like “you kids are the worst (colorful expletive) thing that ever happened to me” would now set the stage for the next few chapters in my life… but to me it was normal. Trust is never easy for me, even today…

I was working in the garden when my mother called me inside. Grandpa died in some far away state out west. He was my champion! Rumor says he knew every verse in the bible by heart (rumors only? sure). I remember He stood up for me against my father. I was overwhelmed and I remember breaking down and asking God to do something in my life. I dont remember exactly what, but I made a deal with God. I told God that I would always follow him and He would always be the one I trusted. 

Years had past since I had friends in the house. My father’s hoarding took on epic levels. The bath tub, the kitchen sink, the dinette, dining room, living room, basement and finally the our bed rooms… including my bed. I prayed and asked why. I don’t remember a time I didn’t feel Gods presence, but nothing changed!

When my mother fell and hurt her back, the doctors prescribed pain meds, as much as she wanted! Always stoned, never in touch with life. More and more pain meds. 

My rebellion started with a “party” where I learned to drink. I ran into at least three cars while pedaling my bike home. I learned how easy it was to steal smokes from my father.

My sixth grade year: the year I started drinking & smoking cigarettes, but still listened to my Snoopy radio that I had found and fixed.

Fall of 1979 finally came around. I became friends with some of the old timers in the neighborhood. John with the perfect lawn, the Kurkies who always had cookies and Mr Jones who worked in his garage sharpening roofing blades. MR JONES. What happened to me in that garage is something no young boy should ever experience. Scared and confused, afraid to tell anyone, especially my father…. I yelled at God and I determined to fight God over this for about 25 years.

I lived a life trying to prove I was “normal” all I wanted was to be normal, and I tried to prove it alone, without God. I dropped out of school as a sophomore. Started living at friend’s houses and working, Drinking, smoking, doing drugs of every kind and proving I was a normal guy. I tried to show the world I was not that guy in the garage. I was determined to prove to the world “I was normal”. By 21, I had a daughter. I was never there for her; I cant undo that! Not being there for her is my biggest regret in life.

At 25, I got married, had three sons and lived a “normal life”. I was now the dad I should have been. Trying to prove I was a normal guy, a good dad, the classic “man’s man”, I was very good at doing things my way, and I guess I still am. 

At age 34, 9 years into a 20 year marriage that was only getting worse, my MOM was about to give me a Christmas present that would change everything. $200.00 cash.

I decided to tell God he needed to prove to me that he wanted me back. He needed to prove to me he still loved me after all the things I did, after all the girls I hurt. After all the horrible things I had done over the years. (I don’t recommend this approach, its not a good idea.) But our God is bigger than our issues. I was at work one day and I drove by a “Northwestern Book Store”, when a still small voice said, “go” and I went… God “needed” to show me what to do with this $200.00. I knew God would not be able to show me anything in that store… I knew it and I was kinda gloating about it because I have dyslexia and reading for any amount of time is so burdensome that I simply do not read. But, OUR GOD IS BIGGER THAN OUR ISSUES. There it was, I knew in an instant why God wanted me in that store… an audio bible,(bound in a nice vinyl case containing CDs) that cost $199.00… I bought it and it changed my life forever. I couldn’t stop listening, all day at work, at home, everywhere! BIBLE BIBLE BIBLE. For the first time in my life, I read, well listened to God’s Word, cover to cover. 

My marriage got worse. I heard comments like… “Don’t expect me to become some bible fanatic like you!” It was ugly. I don’t have a need to share more of that chapter today. My marital status changed to single.

In 2015, I married Jessica, my best friend and helpmate. We met at church, in choir. She stole my heart! We are now a blended family of 8 guys (if you include our two dogs) and one gal. I had never known a God centered marriage, but together we are both discovering how a God centered marriage works. (I am still a hard man to live with, but she has more grace than I have issues). She is absolutely the greatest. 

I don’t know why God chooses to keep me safe and helped me endure the hard-aches, sufferings, abuse & self destructive behaviors. I have experienced a father who was abused by his drunken father. I have experienced a mother who was checked out on pain killers for years. I have experienced first hand the self-destruction of drugs and alcohol. I have experienced a marriage destroyed with infidelity and drinking. I have experienced a friend that drank his life away after being laid off. I have experienced survival. I have experienced the joy of a Godly wife that learned how to manage her addiction(through faith in JESUS). I have experienced so much, both good and bad. It’s hard to believe that Our God is bigger than our issues at times. BUT HE IS

I have a tattoo on my chest, it is a reminder of so much. I guess in a way its a life verse. It’s written in Hebrew, it reads… “there is a time for love and a time for hate, Ecclesiastes 3:8” there is a time for everything, good & bad. This tattoo is a reminder of where I have been but more than that it reminds me that JESUS was always there, in all the pain, sorrow and struggles but even more-so, Jesus still is here with me.

Everyone has a story. Your story is different than mine, but every story is just as important as the next story… Please ask yourself these two questions: What are you going to do with my story?, What are you going to do with your story?