More open honesty: You've [almost] been served

Call me Elphaba, because unfortunately this makes two stories in a row following the theme "no good deed goes unpunished." Even more unfortunately, while today's subject matter is practically the same as my previous novella, it concerns another "friend" who has taken advantage of me.

First, the backstory:

In 2011, two acquaintances from my small group at church (a husband and wife, whom I will call "H" and "W" for the sake of at least some anonymity), were fighting a court battle to retain custody of their daughter; while the details of the case are public record, they are not relevant to this discussion. Through a combination of grapevines and little birdies, I had heard that "H" and "W" needed a significant amount of cash to pay their lawyer, some of which they'd be able to borrow from their parents, and the other part, they didn't know where they'd be able to scrounge it.

Though I couldn't express myself with big fancy words when I was younger, since childhood I have held to this cockamamy notion that those who are capable of making the world a little less unfair, also carry the moral obligation to do so. This deep-seated belief informs who I am as a person. It goes beyond an Hippocratic oath of "do no harm," and instead says, "do good where you can." I'm no saint, and I'm under no illusions about that: I am not guiltless, I've transgressed my fair share against my fellow humans. But in the case of "H" and "W", I knew I had the capability of helping, and therefore, I felt, how could I not?

I called "W" and offered to loan her and "H" what amounted to my entire savings, so they could pay their lawyer. There is a deeper significance here, that until now, I've only told one other person: by offering "H" and "W" this loan, I sacrificed my own plans of moving to Los Angeles, at least for the time. I had been saving and dreaming and longing to move, and I knew that depleting my savings would erase any possibility of that for a long time. And though it tore at my heart, I chose to do so anyway, because I wanted to do Good.

Disclaimer: like in my previous post, I'm not writing this to garner a pity party. Once again, I neither need nor desire pity. The situation is what it is, we can't change the past, etc. I'm choosing to share that part of the story because the whole point of this blog post is complete, open honesty.

Disclaimer the Second: me not moving to LA at the time, is a good thing. Realistically, I'm still not ready emotionally, so having the option wrested from me (albeit by my own choices) is not something I regret.

Continuing. "W" insisted that she and "H" sign a repayment agreement. I didn't think it necessary at the time; especially because these were acquaintances from church, I never suspected that repayment would ever be an issue. But we agreed to some terms and signed the paperwork. The first two payments showed up on time, even exceeding our agreed-upon amount, and then after that everything went to hell.

Long story short, "H" was found guilty, the couple permanently lost custody of their daughter, and "W" divorced "H" and moved back home, out of state. Sucky situation all around.

At this point, the repayment checks stopped coming, and I didn't complain, because obviously they had more important things to worry about right then.

"H" finished serving his time in the workhouse, and began trying to re-build his life. "W" stopped replying to me altogether. This sets the stage for how I've regarded each of them since then.

It's not my job to judge whether "H" was or was not guilty - that was up to the court. My job was (and is) simply to be his friend. I admired that he completely owned his situation: there was no animosity toward the judge or the justice system, no visible anger toward the prosecution, etc. I mean, I would have been pissed if my life had been ruined like that.


In January 2012, I sent the following email to "H" and "W":

Friends,

What happened in your lives breaks my heart. No one should have to endure what you've both endured, and especially not at our age. You are too young to have this kind of life experience.

I hate dealing with money. In our signed agreement last year, you agreed to keep me updated if you'd be unable to make the monthly repayments. I know finances are tight, but I'd like for you to start keeping me posted each month about how much you might be able to repay that month. The number is much less important than the communication.

Thanks.

"H" replied in under 12 hours, and over the following months continued to keep me in the loop about his job search, applications, interviews, etc. It wasn't going well, but I could tell he was trying. Every so often we'd get together for burgers, and more than once he tried to hand me a $20 bill, saying "this is all I have, but I want you to take it, because I know I owe you a lot more." I'd reject the offer, because I knew he had more important debts to pay than me; $20 one way or the other won't break the bank for me, but I knew for him it might make the difference between eating or skipping a meal. But the most important part, for me, is that he was trying, and he was communicating.

The thought has occurred to me that I've been proven a terrible judge of character more than once; maybe "H" is just giving me a sob story and I'm eating it up. But I don't believe that to be the case. I think he's human and has made mistakes and has to pay for them, but I don't believe he's deliberately trying to take advantage of me. (Dear God, please don't let me be wrong)


In April, still having no reply from "W", I emailed both parties again; once again, "H" wrote back promptly, "W" never did, and so in July, I texted "W" the following:

"W", I haven't heard from you in many months. I hope you are well, but I also need to ask for an update on your repayment plan. I know money's tight, I just need to know what the plan is. Thanks.

This time, she replied!

Hi Jeremy. I'm sorry about my lack of communication. Money is tight, and it's been tight since "H" went to the workhouse. Yes, I did move back to <home city> bc I was being evicted. As far as paying back bills, you are def on my list. being a personal loan, I want to make good on it. I just started training today for a <specific profession> job. Its only part time, but at least I finally got something. I plan to get another job as well. I don't have a plan on the amount I'm sending each month as my income will vary. Can we agree that I start paying you something monthly come August 1? You are one amazing person to have come this far and not shanked me by now. There are many reasons behind me going AWOL, but none are your fault. I'm sorry I've affected you.

I replied, reiterating that the communication is what's most important; I was grateful she'd finally replied to me, I appreciated her apology, and I became hopeful this was heading toward resolution.

Once again, I was wrong.

Months went by, no communication, no checks in the mail. In early November, I texted her again; no response.

In December, after my debacle with "A" went down, I decided I needed to pursue the issue with "W" more aggressively than I had been. On December 28, 2012, I sent her this email:

"W", I have not heard from you since a text message in July 2012; at that time you stated you would resume monthly loan repayments on August 1st, however, it's now 5 months later and I've heard no updates from you. I would like to have the entire debt off the books by May 2013 (two years after our original signed agreement).

Please communicate with me by January 15, what your new plan for repayment is.

I also Facebooked, texted, and left a voicemail, saying she needed to respond to the email by January 15. She posts on FB all the time, so there could be no excuse for not seeing my message. There was literally nothing more I could do to get her attention. Just kidding, there was one more thing: I asked a mutual friend from church to ping "W" and ask her to respond to me.

Frankly I didn't actually expect a response, but I went above and beyond in my attempts to reach "W" because, assuming she didn't reply, I intended to file small claims court papers the day after my deadline, and I wanted there to be no doubt that I'd done absolutely everything I could. A darker analogy of which I've grown fond is that you "give the person enough rope to hang themselves with." In my situation with "W", as previously with "A", I feel that I have been far more than reasonable in what I've asked when it comes to them showing some personal responsibility. If I'm missing something, please, call me out on it. (but I don't think I am)

In preparing to file the small claims paperwork, I consulted with one of my lawyers, specifically about MN Statutes 491A.01 and 543.19; I had concerns because "W" had moved out of the state, but my lawyer said that because our business was transacted in Minnesota, and because I as plaintiff still reside here, the local courts would still hear the case.

On the evening of January 13th, two days before the deadline, "W" replied to me, asking how much was still owed (I'd previously spelled this out in the April email, but whatever), followed by something all-too reminiscent of "A"'s antics (previous blog post):

Okay I see. I gotta figure out how I'm going to make this work. I will get back to you in a couple days. I am looking for employment as the restaurant is really slow til good weather hits. I've had shifts where I didn't have a single table. My <specific profession> job is super part time. I just moved in with a roommate a month ago. How're things with you?

Really? You're going to go incognito for a year, then tell me how it's important to you to "make good" on repaying the loan, then not respond to me for another five months, now give me a sob-story, and finally pretend we're still friends by asking how I'm doing? That just happened? In "W"'s defense, I wouldn't be nearly so sensitive about it, except for the fact that I just went through this game with "A" last month, and I'm in no mood for a repeat.

My reply, in which I bring us back on task:

Busy but otherwise doing well. I wish you well in your job search, however I can't stress enough the need for timely communication going forward. This evening I was literally starting to fill out paperwork for small claims court, because you haven't responded to my messages since July. I'm not trying to be a monster, but the fact is you ... [have] continued to take advantage of me (not only by not repaying the loan, but by failing to communicate any timeline or even intent to repay it). Sorry for the bluntness. I need to know what the plan is.

I think at this point it's important to re-iterate my Jurassic Park reference from my previous blog post: "I don't blame people for their mistakes. But I do ask that they [in this case, quite literally] pay for them." I had the best intentions in offering "H" and "W" a loan, and I can only assume they had the best intentions in taking it; and then life took us in a different, unexpected direction. It is tragic, but that doesn't grant cart blanche to ignore our situation, or absolve responsibility for repaying the loan, and the very least, communicating.

And so once again I find myself praying, "God, I'm sorry I'm not You."

While I waited for "W" to reply, I continued working on the small claims form. I'd filled everything in, except "W"'s address. From Facebook I knew she had moved twice since living in MN, most recently last month, but I didn't know her new address. I couldn't file the court papers (let alone serve them) without that, and it's not like I could ask her for her address now that she knew my intent, so I had to be more creative.

Having honed over many years my skills in the fine art of Facebook-stalking, I found photos of "W"'s new house on her new roommate's FB page, and in one of those photos was the house number prominently displayed on the front of the house. While I could use Google Maps to "drive" up and down the city streets looking for this house, that seemed like a huge time-suck.

I called my Public Safety officer friend from college, and one of her co-workers suggested that if I sent snail mail to "W"'s old address, with the special words "Don't Forward: Correct Address Information Requested" prominently written on the front of the letter, it would come back to me with her current forwarding address on a yellow sticker. Digging through my checking account online, I found a deposit image of one of the checks "W" had sent me a year and a half ago, which had her previous address on it. At the post office I verified the appropriate verbiage to use - they said to write "Address Service Requested" instead - and I dropped the blank letter in the mail.

Because I know the correct house number from "W"'s roommate's FB photo, once the letter came back I'd also know if the postal service gave me "W"'s most current address, or if she hasn't filed a new change of address from her most recent move. This... sort of worked. The envelope did come back a few days later with a yellow sticker, but the address was "H"'s new address. Looks like the postal service didn't bother to check the name on the envelope, just the address itself. Shoot.

Knowing I might not get a positive hit (though I'd assumed I'd at least have gotten her old address in her home state, rather than "H"'s!), my backup plan was to hire a service that could serve "W" the papers at her place of employment - again thanks to Facebook, at least I have that address.

I say "my backup plan was" because "W" finally replied to me at 9 p.m. on January 15th. (This was after I had again emailed, texted, and FB'd her that morning: "Today is the 15th. You need to let me know your plan for repayment by midnight tonight, or I will proceed with filing the forms for conciliation court. Please don't make me do this.") While "W" and I were texting, I called my parents for their counsel. Dad encouraged me that he's always in favor of giving someone another chance. And so, "W" and I negotiated a more-than-reasonable[-for-her] monthly rate. To this I added:

Yes, that [monthly amount] would be acceptable. However, you promised the same back in July / August; you need to follow through this time. I'm not trying to be a monster, I'm really not, but the no-communication / no-payment exercise has dragged on for too long.

"W" replied:

I completely agree with you. 100%. I'm really sorry I disrespected you. While moving to <home state> has been a positive step overall, I've found myself trying to change everything around me to resemble something completely opposite of what my life used to be. That included any attachments I had when "H" and I were together. I know I disconnected, and while I needed to do that to fully finish the divorce, I am so sorry that I cut you off as well. At the time, I didn't want to associate with anyone who had even a remote tie with him, and esp anyone who was friendly with him. I see the error in that now. I will keep consistent communication with you from this point.

My reply speaks for itself about my feelings on the matter:

Please do. I can understand your motivation... but whether or not I'm in contact with "H" is irrelevant to your and my financial situation. Apology accepted, conditionally, the condition being that this time around needs to go down different than July / August. Thanks for your replies, thanks for explaining.

That is the end of the play-by-play narrative, as nothing else has happened since then. Quite honestly I don't think she'll follow through; I desperately hope to be proven wrong.


I don't like what this experience, and the experience with "A" last month, have done to me. I'm scared my heart has grown colder and less compassionate as a result. What makes it worse is that, had "W" simply communicated with me and been a responsible adult, we wouldn't have had an issue (or at least not to this extreme), and I wouldn't have been forced into threatening a lawsuit. This entire affair was completely, 100% avoidable.

I've waffled whether to publish this. On one hand I fear I am dis-respecting my friends' privacy; even though I've done my best to keep them anonymous, I know some readers will know who these folks are. If that's the case, then you also know they're not bad people, it's just a bad situation. On the other hand, I hope my experiences will serve as a vicarious learning opportunity for someone reading it, and that you can avoid the time- and energy-wasting stress that my choices has wrought on me. I hope, by writing this, I might bring some Good to the world. As one of my co-workers put it, "sometimes all you can be is the bad example for someone else to learn from." If not, at least it is a deeply personal and honest journal entry for myself.

So what lesson did I learn? Never, ever loan money to anyone ever again for as long as I live.

Except I know I'll break that rule. Piggy-backing on an example my Mom gave me, if one of my nearest and dearest friends were in crisis and needed help, of course I'd do what I could, and that might mean financially.

I think the deeper lesson for me, is that if I'm going to hold onto my philosophy of "do good where you can," I need also be more discerning in the future about how I go about that. Rather than internalizing another person's problems as my own, I need to learn a healthy separation, and exercise more creative thinking, about how to help. Maybe "helping" still means financially, but maybe not.


My friend Bernadett wrote something beautiful in response to my story about "A", and I'd like to close with that:

"Do unto others as you would have them do to you". This topic has been coming up a lot in my personal life, and in the lives around me. Some people follow this golden rule, some do not. Some people are givers, some takers, most are balanced by being a little of both. When you give freely your love, time, money, advice, etc... you are extending your grace and distributing the gifts you have been given that overflow from within you unto another. This my friends, can make the world go round, and it is wonderful! However, once in a while there are people that come into our lives that manipulate our good nature and take advantage of our generosity- making us feel like fools. But what happens next is the most unfortunate thing of all. As a fool, we begin to harden our hearts, retract our trust, and fold in our hands that we used to hold out so innocently and so purely. Have the "takers" ruined us? Have they made us lose our innocence, our charity, our compassion, our consideration, and have they blocked our blessings against those in the future who might truly need and/or deserve our love, time, money, advice, friendship, etc? Do not allow yourself to be ruined. Do not live your life in regret because you did what your heart called you to do. Be proud that you were capable of giving away such a beautiful gift to someone in need. And be sorry and pray for them that they were not thankful beings. We want to become the best version of ourselves, not the worst. Let's not worry about who will stab us in the back next, let's celebrate and focus on those who have our backs now! "To thine own self be true." That is our legacy. That is how we move forward.

Some open honesty: Abusive Friendship

No good deed goes unpunished.

Mmm, yes, overly melodramatic, I'll admit, but I recently finished reading Wicked so that seemed like a good opening.

Last year I had a roommate, who throughout this novella I will call "A" to protect his anonymity. The long and short is he took advantage of me financially and emotionally. In retrospect, now I can recognize I was a victim of an emotionally abusive relationship. But the worst part is I didn't realize that until someone else pointed it out to me.

To anyone reading who has suffered extreme emotional, psychological, or physical trauma, my claim of victimhood may sound offensive, and for that I apologize. Let's be honest: I'm really doing okay, and I'm not permanently scarred. My intent here is *not* to garner a pity-party; I do not need nor desire pity. My situation is what it is, we cannot change the past, etc.

Instead, my purpose lies in the hope that my story will help someone else, a wandering Internet traveler, recognize if they are or were in a similarly abusive relationship, and give them the strength to fight that.

My essay is lengthy, firstly because I did not want to take the extra time to write anything shorter, and secondly because including fewer details would deprive us of critical plot points.


A year and a half ago I had a friend, "A," who needed a place to stay - his mom was on her death bed, his search for sustainable work was not going well, and in general he was down on his luck. Years prior, "A" had helped me out tremendously on some large projects (I apologize, because I hate hate hate when people are so vague, but in order to protect "A's" privacy, I need to use that awful generic language), and so I felt I owed him the help, if I could. At the time I had a spare bedroom I was using only for storage, so "A" and I agreed on a rental rate, and he moved in.

Immediately this became a disaster. Not only did "A" spontaneously arrive days earlier than planned (and before I even had the room cleaned out), but once he was in my home, he proceeded to regale me for hours on end about his life's problems. The first night I figured "okay, we haven't seen each other in a while, this is just catch-up, I guess that's fine. It'll just be this one time."

I was wrong.

Night after night, I would arrive home from work, and "A" would commence talking at me for literally one or two hours straight, standing in my office doorway while I was clearly trying to work. And... his problems were always the same: every story he brought up I'd already heard from him the night previous. Then he would ask for advice, and my advice was always the same, because he never heeded it. Over the 10 weeks he occupied my home, this routine rarely changed.

I started working longer and longer hours, just to avoid my house. I scheduled more events out with friends (though this isn't a bad thing), in order to escape.

Now lest you accuse me of being a bad friend, let me clarify a few details:

1. "A" and I were never best friends. At best, we had been acquaintances.
2. I am not a trained psychologist.
3. "A" never (maybe once?) took my advice, even though he asked for it time and again.
4. I work from home a lot, and "A" did not respect my time and space when I was "at work" in my home office.
5. I do not have 1-2 hours every single night to devote to someone who isn't my significant other or a family member. I do often (and happily) spend an hour or two in a night talking on the phone with some of my closest friends, but then it's a different friend each day, not the same ONE person day in and day out.

There were other red flags (coming to mind: not closing the bathroom door or washing his hands until I called him out on it; gross!!!), and so at some point I began asking "A" when he would find his own apartment. This was mostly though not entirely selfish: I knew that getting his own place would be a huge step for "A" toward getting his life back on track (and he concurred). Because I knew he was low on cash, I offered him a loan in order that he could place the deposit on the apartment he'd been eyeing. After a few days' consideration, he accepted my loan offer and I wired him the money. At this time he also signed a repayment agreement specifying a timeline for the loan, as well as rent, depending how many weeks total he ended up staying at my house.

This same week, "A's" car broke down and needed repairs, for which he used my initial loan. Hearing this, I offered him another loan, this one specifically to secure the apartment, and he accepted. Naïvely, I assumed he would be a responsible adult, and go straight to his prospective landlord to lock down the apartment; imagine my surprise days later when I found out he deliberately had dilly-dallied, and as a result, lost the apartment to someone else. This meant "A" would be occupying my house even longer.

I. was. livid.

As I described my roommate situation to friends and family, everyone could hear in my voice (perhaps even see in my physical stature) the toll "A" was having on me, and I found myself falling deeper into an angsty, unrestful, unhealthy emotional state. The hour-long psych sessions continued almost every day, and the stories never changed: "A" kept talking about the same girl he'd had a crush on and stalked (yes, stalked) almost a year prior. This was *while his mom was dying*, and he was talking about a girl. Seriously?

Everyone encouraged me "you just gotta kick him out, he's taking advantage of you." I knew I couldn't deal with it much longer, but instead of kicking "A" out, I kept making excuses for him: his mom had just passed away (while he was living with me), he had an emotionally unhealthy job at his church that was draining him, he just needs a little more help... excuse after excuse after excuse. I assumed I knew him and his situation better than all these other friends of mine, and again, I just wanted to help him get his life back in order.

In late July or early August I again asked "A" when he would be finding a place of his own, using the loans I'd given him. Oddly, even though I felt like a bad guy for eventually saying "we need to set a move-out date," he never saw me as being mean.

We agreed upon August 15 as the day he'd be gone; I even got a little passive-aggressive and asked my parents to send "A" an email, something like, "I understand you're moving out this week..." Well, August 15 came and went, and he was still here, no sign of packing or anything. Exasperated, I explained to "A" that I didn't know what to do - while I didn't want to kick him out on the street and make him homeless, at the same time I had a new roommate moving in in a few weeks, so he needed to be gone soon.

Eventually, finally, "A" moved out, mere days before new roommate Ellen moved in. And btw, new roommate Ellen was freaking awesome.

Ordeal over!

... I wish.

That was late August 2011. "A"'s and my mutually agreed-upon (and signed!) document stated he was to pay the back-rent by December 31, 2011, and repay my loans by March 31, 2012. Now in fairness, he did pay back *most* of the loan, but not all. And none of the rent. It is now (when I started writing this) December 2012. This is when everything comes to a head.

On a Friday in December 2012, at 4:20 a.m. - yes, a.m. - "A" texted me the following:

"Wanted to ask if you could forgive the remainder of what I owe you? In the spirit of the holiday and also appealing to you from the Word from Christ when he spoke of the man who had his debts forgiven. My wish is to go into the new year clean and truly moving forward. I've stepped out of my daily work at the church, from doing it for 10 years and that is why it's been difficult [to] find substantial work. I appreciate your help and friendship and please know you can always call me for anything. Merry Christmas!"

I... truly had no idea how to reply. I discussed at length with my parents, and also with my friend, mentor, and self-volunteered anger-management counselor John. I prayed. And I was distraught. The next day, I replied with the following email:

"A,"

I have to say, I'm a bit at a loss. You've put me in a lose-lose situation: I can say "your debt is forgiven" and lose $<remaining loan money> (far exceeding any spirit-of-the-holiday gift I'm buying for my friends or family), or I can say "no, you must pay me," and thus be the bad guy. On top of that, you took this a step further and are guilt-tripping me with an appeal to my faith, which you know I [try to] take very seriously. It would be hard for me to turn my back on Luke 7, but even more convicting, Matthew 18.

"A," you took advantage of me while living here: by disrespecting my time and privacy for hours on end, almost every day; by not paying timely rent; by accepting a loan specifically meant to be used as a deposit on an apartment, and then not making the deposit; by accepting an additional loan for the deposit you finally did put down; and you have continued to take advantage of my good will since then by deferring repayments an entire extra year. Against my better judgement, I let all of that slide, because I wanted you to get your life back in order, and I thought if I let you pay back only what you could (which most of the time meant no repayments for months on end), I'd be doing you a favor - I figured after everything you did for me on <previous projects he'd helped with>, that I owed you that. But it's been a year and a half. While I'm glad you're no longer working at the church - remember I wholeheartedly supported you moving on - I am left feeling that you have abused my generosity. And now with your text message, you are taking advantage of my faith, by laying a guilt-trip that I cannot ignore. So, yes, "A": your debt is forgiven, but this "friendship" is over.

I truly hope you will be able to get your life back together soon. Be well, and go in peace.

- Jeremy

Before sending, I ran my email past my parents and John (and revised based on their recommendations), and everyone agreed: it was worth losing the loan money in order finally to be done with the whole debacle and get "A" out of my life.

My plan backfired (sort of - I guess it depends how you look at it): "A" replied saying that my friendship was worth more than the money; he apologized, acknowledged it had been wrong of him to ask what he asked in the text, and promised to pay me back after all. Then a day or two later, I suppose to prove to me how poor he was, "A" texted me a screenshot of his bank account balance: $2 and change. I felt awful for him, I truly, truly did. At the same time, I recognized his further attempt at emotional manipulation.

I recounted this story to a few close friends, one of whom is facing a similar situation with her former roommate. One of my friends wrote me an incredibly encouraging, build-me-up kind of email. Being the emotional wreck I was at the time (knowing in my mind that I was doing the right thing, not being a jerk, etc, yet not truly feeling that in my heart), I greatly appreciated the support. However in replying to her email, I realized I wasn't 100% sure if the debt I'd tried to forgive was for the remaining loans, or for the loans+rent. It's a niggling fear I had had since that dinner conversation with my parents, but until writing this particular reply email, I had not investigated. The distinction is important because it's one thing to forgive a few hundred dollars (again, worth it, just to be done with the whole situation), but if the rent money was also involved, now we were talking about a much higher number.

Unable to shake the fear I'd made a mistake (and yes, "fear" is absolutely the right word here), I spent well over an hour digging through all my emails to and from "A", and then every. single. deposit in every. single. bank account, to figure out exactly what had been repaid and when.

And that's when I realized I dun goofed: for the past year, every time I emailed "A" asking for repayment updates, I had told him the wrong number, and completely forgotten about rent money owed.

Major. Oops. As in, multiply "A"'s outstanding debt by more than three.

I felt awful. Not only had I made a terrible mistake, and repeated that mistake in no fewer than four emails sent to "A," but also this was yet one more case of him taking advantage of me. That rent should have been paid in full over a year ago, and it should never have been my responsibility to hound him about it.

With my parents' help, I crafted an email to "A", documenting what I'd found, and also asking, almost begging, if he had records of paying the rent that could prove me wrong (I so desperately wanted to be wrong). If not, then I formally retracted my previous offer of debt forgiveness: "I was willing to forgive the $<small money> in order to put this ordeal behind us and move on. However, with the new amounts, forgiving $<small money> will no longer accomplish that goal." I asked him to repay the full amount he owes me by August 1, 2013.

Within minutes, "A" replied that he didn't remember ever talking about rent.

... Excuse me?

And thus once again I found myself speechless. As my Mom put it, "He’s going to make this tough on you."

I replied to "A" that what he'd claimed "is completely untrue" and reminded him that I have a signed agreement with his signature with the rent amount clearly spelled out.

That evening, while I was at band rehearsal, "A" left me a voicemail asking if we could talk on the phone, as he had some questions about the numbers. Though I dreaded the phone call, I knew it might be easier to explain the math verbally than through writing. However, for my own protection, I put my phone on speaker, and used my voice recorder to record the call - if "A" insisted on deviating from written communication, I darn well was going to have a record of what was said. As I understand it, Minnesota law did not obligate me to disclose to "A" that the call was being recorded (MN Statutes 626A.02 Subd. 2.d), but I did tell him anyway.

Our phone call lasted roughly three minutes, during which I repeatedly asked "A" if he understood the numbers. He repeatedly confirmed that he did (so, why are we talking, then?). And then, this happened:

A: Where's our friendship stand?

J: Um. I- I don't really know how to even answer that, "A". ...you've made it pretty clear where you stand with the friendship, and that is that you don't respect me, and that you are going to continue to take advantage of me, so, I think that you've made it pretty clear where the friendship is, and I guess I don't have anything to add to that. So. Sorry. ....

I was proud of myself, for standing up for myself. I called my parents right away to discuss the phone call, and during our conversation "A" texted me and asked "Can you please call me back once more. I forgot something."

Now began the real sob story. "A" tried to get another psych session out of me. This phone call lasted almost 10 minutes, during which, I really stood up for myself. When "A" asked me to help him understand, help him think clear so he can fix himself, I replied:

Well, "A" my honest opinion ... is the same as a year and a half ago: you need professional help; ... I did my best to listen to your issues when you were here as my roommate, but you continually did not take my advice, and continued to pour out the same problems day after day without changing, and from the sounds of it you haven't gotten better ... there's not really anything I can do for you, because everything I can do I've already tried. I thought that I was doing you a favor by giving you the loans and by helping you get your own place, ... but it's been a year and a half to pay back, frankly, not that much money... I'm sorry if that sounds cold and harsh, I really am; I feel for you and my heart does break for you, because you're not in a good place. But you need professional help and I cannot be that person.

....

My recommendation for you, which I know you won't take because you never do .... go work at Starbucks, go work at McDonald's. Starbucks is nice because after a few months they have benefits, they have health insurance, and they pay more than minimum wage. So, go find a job like that, get out of the church, do whatever you need to do to make yourself healthy again.

(he protests, and starts tangenting)

"A" I'm not going to let this conversation get drawn out into another 2-hour sob fest. Sorry. Calling it like it is. I put up with that enough when you were living here, and I cannot allow myself to get back into that position again. [I reiterate my previous points] I can't help you anymore. I'm sorry. I wish you well. I hope that things work out. I will be praying for you, for whatever small bit that is worth. But there's nothing else that I can do for you.

At this point he asks if he agrees never to contact me again, if we could go back to having the debt forgiven; I explain that's no longer an option, because the amount actually owed is more than three times what I thought I was forgiving in the first exchange. I say "I'm sorry. It sucks," but I also explain I'm not asking him to pay me back immediately, noting that he could even wait until July 31 (the day before my August 1 cutoff), and that'd be great! He doesn't need to go out of his way right now to pay back money he doesn't have. I continued:

I'm not trying to be a monster. I am asking you to be an adult.... I think that 7 months [between now and August 1]... is a reasonable amount of time to be able to get a full time job, and get a little bit back in savings, and to be able to repay that amount of money.... At that point it will have been 24 months, and I think that is far more reasonable than what most people would do in this situation.

....

I'm sorry for the tough love. I really am. I want to see you get better. But you're not going to get better if I continue to let you take advantage of me. And you're also not going to get better unless you seek out professional help. That's my opinion.

This phone call was emotionally draining. "A" truly had put me in a lose-lose situation. Even though I realize his problems are not my fault, it's just plain hard when you have to say these kinds of things to another human being. But it needed to be said, because he hasn't changed, he hasn't grown up. Even so, I feel that I became a bad guy.

After 18 months, I finally stood up for myself. And it sucked. But it was what needed to be done.

I went to bed feeling a complex mixture of emotions, mostly negative toward myself, and was drained. I kept praying, "God, I'm sorry I'm not You. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." As someone who professes to want to follow Christ's example, I experienced, and continue to experience, major feelings of failure. The situation's not even my fault, but God, I am so sorry.

I also went to bed that night with a fuller understanding of why people stay in abusive relationships, not wanting to get out. If it was this hard for me, even when I know I'm physically safe from repercussions... The worst part about emotional abuse, is that you can't see the scars left behind.

In the first Jurassic Park, John Hammond has two lines that really sum it all up:

I'm sorry about your financial problems, Dennis, I really am, but they are your problems.... I don't blame people for their mistakes. But I do ask that they pay for them.

The facts are: I'm a genuinely kind human being who tried to help someone I thought was a friend. He took advantage of me, emotionally and financially. And I didn't understand the distinction between helping, and letting someone take advantage of me, until it was too late.

To anyone else out there who finds yourself in a relationship like this, call me and we can commiserate. As much as it sucks doing it, I encourage you to stand up for yourself. Accept the fact that you are not being the "bad guy" by walking out on that relationship. When the other person puts you in a lose-lose situation that is not your fault.


It is not my fault.

Maybe some day I'll believe that for myself.

Waking up was such a disappointment

Dreams are so weird.

Last night I went to Taylor Swift's concert with my friend Peter and his girlfriend. An understatement might be to say it was an "odd" concert; I don't remember all the details but basically it started out like Disney on Ice, and somehow I was skating around on the ice with all the camera crew. Then I was sort of getting in the way of the performers, so I got off the ice and went back upstairs and sat with Peter and Stephanie in our car... which shortly afterward became plain old folding chairs. We had awesome seats, like, practically front row to the elevated stage (above the ice?), and that meant that during one of her songs, Taylor and I made eye contact.

A couple songs later, our eyes connected again, and she gestured for me to join her on the stage! I questioned, "me?" and she beckoned again. On the stage there appeared evergreen bushes (bushes with tiny evergreen trees growing on their limbs) frosted with snow - she picked one and handed it to me, I played along with the act and picked one to gift her in return. I held her coat (snow means it was cold... and maybe there was still an ice rink below?), joked around, and then we ran off backstage, because she had to do a costume change while her band kept playing. She ran down a staircase and said "stay right there I'll be right back" while I waited in the hallway.

When she came back she was in a hurry (obviously, because she had to get back to the screaming fans), I followed her back to the stage, and on the way she asked if I preferred to do dinner or dancing; I realized the flirting earlier when we'd been picking tiny evergreens had been authentic, not just part of the act, but then before we could finalize our plans I got stuck holding the stage door open for a tour group of senior citizens, while Taylor went back onto the stage. By the time I found my seat, Taylor was sitting across the auditorium from me, and an African American pastor was stepping onto stage to give his sermon. Taylor signed at me: "6:30?", I nodded. "Do you have my number?" "No," I replied, so she stood up and wrote her phone number on a chalkboard so I could type it into my phone.

Then I freaking woke up. Before our dinner. Noooooo!!!!!

While it lasted, quite possibly best dream ever.

"Punch 1 on the old speed dial"

I'm working my way through the complete series of Stargate SG-1. In the episode I'm currently watching, Colonel O'Neill, in describing the current crisis to General Hammond, suggests the General might want to "punch 1 on the old speed dial" (his assumption being that speed dial #1 goes straight to the President). General Hammond's response is priceless: "My grandchildren?"

This is priceless for two reasons: first off, it's comedic relief. More importantly in my mind, though, what a wonderful role model this man is, that, even though he's a high-ranking, decorated, career military officer, his family comes first. This isn't the first time we've seen General Hammond put his family above his career, either. And it just warms my heart.

Back to Stargate now.

Valuing each word

A few months ago Molly, one of my AWAKEN friends, pastored to me and described how she ponders at length each word when reading a scripture verse. Still wary of the Bible, I chose to explore this with a song lyric instead: "You make all things work together for my good"

You. The God of the universe, the one who knew me before I was born, the one who knows my past, present, and future better than I do myself. You.

Make. You not only create from nothingness, but you make from what is already here, from my current circumstances, and you form it into something, you bring about something new, you make it happen. Make.

All things. Not just some things. Not just the "good" things. You take all the things, all the broken pieces, all the joyous moments as well, and you piece them together. All things.

Work together. It's not all disparate. Everything is interwoven, all the mistakes, all the excellent choices, all the events that happen because of my choices, and all the events beyond my control, you bring them to work together as one, unified, God-driven motion. Work together.

For. There is a purpose. This isn't aimless. You have a direction, you're heading somewhere specific, and I want to come along for the ride. For.

My. Me. Little humble me. You are a personal God, you listen when I talk, and you speak to me when I ask. You're focused not only on the cosmic big picture, but on the tiny small Jeremy-picture as well. My.

Good. What you're doing is good. You have a goal, something great that will be, but is not yet. And I can trust that you know better than I how we'll get there. I need not worry, I need not despair, because ultimately, you've got this. Good.

Leftovers

I went to market today. All I wanted was just to buy some bread, maybe a few figs; the usual, boring ordinary. I got swept up in a crowd, though, saying they'd seen a prophet. Skeptical, I sat and listened. Couldn't really hear anything - too many people in the way.

Unimpressed.

Then these guys started handing out lunch. I realized I was hungry, having not made it to the market yet. Bread and salmon. Free meal in these tough times? Twist my arm, I guess I'll have some. Wonder where they got it all? I mean, there are a LOT of people here, thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Math isn't my strong suit. That had to be expensive. Must be someone important from Rome or something. No matter. Good food.

I never made it to the market, but I came home with my basket filled of leftover scraps of bread. Guess they overbought for the crowd. It all worked out: my neighbors have been hungry for a while, maybe I can help.

Never did figure out who the man was that was speaking. Oh well.

Plumbing Mayhem

Aka, "when you think it can't get worse, you're wrong."

Murphy took a dump on my house's plumbing mid-October. It all started innocently enough: shortly after midnight on Sunday night / Monday morning, I noticed a small pool of water around the basement floor drain. As far as I could tell, not raw sewage, just accumulated H20 from the de-humidifier and the furnace drainage tubes. I mopped it up, and emailed the plumbing company we've used in the past. I also emailed my boss and let him know I'd have to work from home Monday morning while I waited on the plumber.

The plumbing company called me bright and early, and said they could have a guy out there that morning. Whew! Good.

He showed up on time, we found the main line access, and he started snaking out the line. Meanwhile, I moved my computer upstairs to work, because once he opened up that access pipe, an awesome smell began permeating the basement.

Zach the plumber was great - he was friendly, explained everything clearly, and kept me updated on his progress. Unfortunately his progress was slower than he'd hoped: he was pulling out, in his words, more tree roots than he ever seen. So it was going to take more than the one-hour he'd originally quoted. "That's fine," I said. "Do what you need to do."

He ran his snake out a half dozen times, pulling more and more roots off each time it came back, and then... it got stuck. No going forward, no going back.

What does that mean?

Well, first it meant having another plumber dude come out with a camera, to sneak a peak at the pipe and see why the snake was stuck. The camera was an additional $200ish (on top of the plumber's original $99/hour). They discovered the pipe was completely filled with roots, and that the bottom had rusted or somehow dissolved away almost completely, so it would need to be replaced.

Zach got on the phone with his office, and within hours a series of trucks started arriving: one to paint and flag the gas line, one to mark ... I don't know, something else, and so on. Then the giant backhoe arrived with a digging crew, and they dug a ten-foot-deep hole in my front yard. The cost? $4,500. (they did at least deduct what I'd already paid for the morning's plumbing work).

Meanwhile I'm still trying to get work done. Email my boss and tell him I'll be stuck at home all day with this catastrophe. Also called my parents and kept them in the loop.

The hole got dug, a giant pile of dirt appeared over the rest of my lawn, and my 4-year-old neighbor and her grandma parked their chairs out front to watch all the action.

By evening, the digging crew couldn't quite dig deep enough, and so told me they would have to come back the next day with a different backhoe that could go further. They put metal barrier walls in the hole and covered it up so no one could fall in, then left.

Next day I went to work; the plumbers came, dug, and then called me with the cheery news that they would need to dig a second hole, under the sidewalk, to replace a second section of pipe that was also broken because of the invasive roots. This would double the price to a total of $9,000.

Ugh.

At this point, I called Dad and said, in so many words, "Your turn, I don't trust myself to deal with this anymore." He and the plumber talked, approved the work, and the company started getting more city permits in order to dig up the sidewalk. Because it was late in the day, they weren't able to get approvals to start that night, and had to wait until Wednesday. However on the plus side by this time they'd freed the first plumber's snake, so he could get that out of my basement. And they'd unclogged from the yard to the house, so at least we could use water again, though sparingly. "Military showers" and minimal flushing were the rules.

Wednesday... nothing happened. The crews must have been dealing with even larger emergencies, because they weren't at my house.

Thursday when I came home from work I had a second giant hole, this one in the middle of the sidewalk. That day they successfully replaced both sections of pipe, and used an extremely-high-pressure thingy (technical term) to blow out all the roots in the line. We could once again use water in abundance! Showers, laundry, dishes, toilets, sinks, LOTS OF WATER!

End of story, we lived happily ever after.

I wish. This story's only half done.

The city inspector couldn't make it out until Friday morning, so the crew covered both holes again, and came back Friday to "backfill" - put all the dirt back into the holes.

But Thursday night, after taking my first shower in several days, I found a 1" LAKE of water in my downstairs bathroom. Leaking from the ceiling.

I called my parents, and started mopping. At least the drain worked this time, so I didn't have to fill a bucket and lug it outside. Mom and Dad showed up, and my friend Peter, who I'd planned to hang out with that night, also came and helped out. Dad turned off the electricity to the bathroom, pulled out the heating / fan unit in the ceiling, and identified the source of the leak as the pipe leading to the outdoor water spicket. Fortunately, this meant it wasn't the upstairs bathroom leaking again. (a few months ago we'd just had the tub replaced because it was leaking into the basement - another costly venture).

We put a cup under the pipe and I emailed the pluming company again. Parents went home, Peter and I hung out, I went to bed exhausted. On top of the plumbing chaos, my two co-workers who are the resident experts on the software I am charged with testing, were both on vacation that week. And there were lots and lots of bugs in the software. And a new site was just going into acceptance, and needed that software. Trial by fire, and I rocked it! But still: long week.

Friday afternoon a different plumber came to look at the bathroom ceiling pipe. Embarrassingly, all he did was tighten a nut. Though he refused to concede, my / my parents hypothesis is that, when the digging crew high-pressured out the roots from the main line, some of that pressure came back into the house, through the slightly loose nut, and flooded the bathroom. Because the total amount of water that leaked overnight was minuscule compared to what was on the floor Thursday evening. In any case, the plumbing company didn't charge us for the extra trip, which (since I'm still sure they caused it) was the right thing to do.

Three-quarters done.

Now, let's talk about the state of my yard. When the crew left Friday evening, in my yard I had: two giant mounts of dirt where the holes used to be, two missing panels of sidewalk, yellow marker flags left from the gas line guy, wooden retaining beams askew, a blue glove left over from a worker, and clay all over the sidewalk. I mean ALL over the sidewalk. And, to top that off: no communication whatsoever from the company about when this giant mess would be cleaned up. For $9,000, I expected more. I was pissed.

My parents came by and reassured me they [the plumbing company] couldn't possibly leave the yard like this, and that the crew must be coming back Monday to finish up. It was late Friday, after all. Okay, fine, I'll buy that. I mean, I was still mad they were leaving it in this embarrassing state over the weekend, but, if they come Monday and make it right, that's okay.

Monday I got home from work and... nothing had changed. I called the company and asked when the cleanup crew was coming. They had Zach, my original plumber and apparently the point person for the entire project, call me back, and he asked if they hadn't filled in the holes? I explained yes, they did the backfill, but everything was a mess. He explained the mounds of dirt need months to settle - okay, I'll accept that, but I asked for them to clean up the rest of the mess. Ugh. Long story short, he had a supervisor come out that week, who agreed it was kind of messy, and said they'd send some people to do something about it. My parents' largest concern was the sidewalk, with Halloween coming up it presented quite the tripping hazard.

Then I went to LA for a week and a half, and when I came back... hardly anything had changed. They filled in the sidewalk a little better, enough so it's not a major issue until the city comes to pour new concrete. But all the other issues were not addressed.

In the end I hired a friend to do some cleanup, and then spent half an hour out there with a hose spraying the clay and dirt off the sidewalk. I got most of it looking decent.

I sent a letter of complaint to the plumbing company last night, and Zach called back within a few hours. I re-explained the situation to him, particularly emphasizing how, when we used this company to replace the tub, our plumber was exceptionally consciencsious about cleaning up after himself inside the house, vacuuming, leaving it better than he found it, etc. For $9,000, I expected the same or better from the outside crew, but they blatantly didn't even try. Zach said he'd pass this along to his manager. I doubt anything will come of it; they probably think I'm just a huge whiner. I don't think I'm whining, I've taken great care to speak facts, but I just find their behavior unconscionable.

On the plus side. At least all the house plumbing is working swell.

The end?

Only the Beginning of the Adventure

Blast from the past: this post should have been written and published in May 2012

"Welcome to the Adventure" is just something I have to say anytime I talk about AWAKEN. Also, listening to the AWAKEN soundtrack seems almost mandatory while writing about the drama. So that's what I'm doing right now.

AWAKEN's final performance was Sunday, April 29, at Riverside chapel in Story City, Iowa, the very same venue where the ministry was born seven years ago. By the end of the show there was not a dry eye amongst the cast or crew, because this was the end of the adventure. AWAKEN isn't happening next year. It may never happen. Jon and Tiffany feel God's calling to devote themselves wholly to serving their church, where Jon is a lead pastor. The other three AWAKEN leadership folks are 1) moving across the state next year, 2) having a baby, and 3) getting married. All good reasons to need to step away. Thus, AWAKEN is entering a "season of discernment" while the board discerns God's call for the future of the ministry.

We arrived, set up, and performed Saturday the 28th, then spent the night in the Riverside cabins. Sunday after church, the team ate lunch, and gathered for the end-of-year party. Normally this event happens several weeks after the last tour stop, but since there are always a few people who's schedules conflict, having the party during our last tour weekend allowed everyone to be there. Unlike most tour stops, we had lots of extra time - because we were performing in the same venue two nights in a row, we hadn't needed to tear down Saturday night, drive to a new tour location, and load-in and setup on Sunday.

I don't remember the exact sequence of events. But in roughly this order, the end-of-year-party started with Jon and Tiffany reading to us from "Oh, the Places You'll Go!," by Dr. Seuss, followed by a mini-sermon. We had time for team members to share memories from the season, funny stories, what AWAKEN has meant in our lives, how we've been changed. Then came the AWAKEN awards - ridiculous "awards" presented to each team member. Mine, for example, was the "I spend more time listening to audio books than being at AWAKEN," award (I listened to a lot of audio books during my drives). Afterward, per AWAKEN tradition, we went outside to play whiffleball. Everyone was "required" to enjoy it and have fun for "at least 15 seconds", even Beth, who hates whiffleball. It was cold and a little rainy, so we only played one inning. I had fun (even past the requisite 15 seconds).

Inside we had a large group prayer, and an hour of free time before dinner. "Team Bad Guys" (the demons) met backstage for a small group prayer. And that's when I first started crying. I'd been doing okay denying "the end" up until that point, but large group, and especially our small group time after, my tears started coming. Reality sunk it and it sucked.

Dinner happened. I snuck over to leave thank you cards backstage and on the control center, all signed by the team the previous night. Make-up happened. Family photo (all the cast together with our makeup) happened. Prayed out our voices. Then walked over to the chapel and took our places for Creation, one final time. Surreal.

My memory is a blur. Months have gone by now, which, added to the emotional finality of that night, means my specific memories are scant.

I remember in the 'calling of the disciples' scene, normally Howie, who played my fisherman son, gives me a bear hug when he is called to follow Jesus and leave me - this night, he literally picked me up off the ground when we hugged. He's done that during rehearsals as a joke, but never in a live performance. I had to resist the urge to laugh out loud.

I remember hearing someone from cast saying, after the show, how easy it was to bring out tears during the mourning scene while Jesus hung on the cross, because the tears [of mourning AWAKEN] were real, not much "acting" required. I remember a lot of people crying in the back of the venue during the mourning, and into the resurrection, scenes. I was near Kindra and Jess, and I gave them both a big hug right before their cue to go back into the scene. And when Haley, as Satan, was cast out after the resurrection, I made sure I was waiting to catch her as she ran out - I knew how very, very emotionally difficult that role had been all season for her to play.

And my favorite memory from the show itself: during the resurrection song ("Take Heart" by Hillsong), Jon walked up to the sound board, and he and Blair turned up the music as the tomb light faded and Jesus prepared to come back on stage, resurrected. Jon and I both, independently, gave a little punch into the air as the music climaxed and Jesus appeared. Maybe you had to be there.

As the show ended, we angels left the stage, but instead of heading to the makeup room like we normally would, everyone stayed in the sanctuary to listen to Jon's final closing talk. He was choked up, but somehow held it together; the entire cast/crew though were sobbing. It is finished.

Pause for a moment of silence, please

As Jon spoke, many hugs were going around amongst the cast and crew. Somehow, I wasn't crying, not at that moment. My "pre-mourning" earlier helped me keep it together at this moment, so I could try to support my friends. An understatement would be saying we were heart-broken. AWAKEN is more than a performance, more than a show; it is a community. It is Church.

Walking back to the makeup room, it had rained, and the ground was wet. My slippers were soaked and muddy after only a few steps. My brain works in funny ways: the metaphor I drew was that my slippers, much like me, had given their all, and might now be ruined. Weeks later I could look back and say that my slippers, much like me, had given their all, and then after a good washing, were ready to tackle life again.

As usual I was the last one to finish taking off my face paint. Beth waited for me. We shared a moment, not ready to go back into the chapel to start tearing down for the last time.

We were the last two back; I was about to put my gloves on and start wrapping cables, but... I couldn't. I walked over to Beth and Amanda, gave them a big hug, and Kindra, seeing me tearing up, came over and gave me a huge hug.

Blair commented to me that, "let's be honest, tear-down's gonna take a lot longer tonight than normal." I concurred. Marginally because the venue was not well suited for moving road cases around; but mostly because no one wanted to make it real.

While putting away the feeder (a ridiculously heavy cable that feeds electricity to all the equipment), I found a penny. ... Apparently I never blogged about this in the past: the backstory is when my Grandma Sue was dying, she promised to throw pennies down from heaven as a reminder that she's thinking about us. It makes finding a penny a bit more meaningful.

Loading the truck took longer than normal as well, because carpools were leaving, and that meant lots of goodbyes. With many of these friends it is not goodbye forever; I know I'll see them individually, maybe in twos or threes, but not again in this entire large group. So taking time for goodbyes was important.

There was a funny sight of Jon, Tiffany, and Chad driving around with a ridiculously large ladder on the back of a truck - I can't do it justice, other than to say they were having way too much fun.

Truck loaded, the few of us remaining took a short breather. On our way back out to the cars, Jon and Tiffany had just finished locking the chapel - we said our goodbyes, though I knew I'd see them again in a few weeks.

Blair, Alica, Levi, Jacob, Lyndsay and I caravanned from Riverside to the locker in Ames, where we unloaded everything back into storage for the last time. What I feared would be a somber task turned into quite the laughter-filled time with friends; sad, yet joyful, simultaneously. I think, too, we are all people of the mindset "get things done, then process emotions later." We really did have a blast, lots of jokes, lots of laughter.

That night I stayed with Blair and Levi in Ames, planning to drive home in the morning. Morning came, and I couldn't bring my car to get on the freeway toward home. Instead, I ended up back in Des Moines, to visit Beth at work. A 40 minute drive for a 10 minute conversation, but it's exactly what I needed: to see her in "normal" life, carrying on. After Beth, I went back to Blair and Levi's apartment, where they, and also Jacob and Alica, were hanging out, watching a sports game. You know how much I love me a good sports game. Spending time with people who were wrestling the same emotions as I, who knew exactly how I was feeling - invaluable. Even though we didn't talk much about AWAKEN, just being there, not being along, was what I needed.

I finally left Ames at 4 p.m. Along the way I needed to stop at a gas station and take a nap, because I was just so emotionally exhausted from crying - I had cried most of the way to DSM, remained on the brink of tears while talking with Beth, and then cried most of the way back to Ames. It reminded me of the 2010-2011 mime, after Jesus died, when I was playing a disciple and all the disciples hugged each other goodbye, and tearfully went back to our normal, every day status quo lives. In a very real sense that's what we all did at the end of AWAKEN, too.

What's amazing about that parallel, what gives me hope, is that our mourning wasn't the end of the story: in the mime, a few minutes later, Jesus resurrects, and called us back to living a meaningful life. I would like my life to parallel that. Like the disciples who walked and talked with the living Jesus, in what is perhaps an indescribable way, our lives from being in AWAKEN are changed and marked forever.

---

In the months since AWAKEN, Beth and I wrote a proposal for continuing the ministry, essentially volunteering to take over Jon and Tiffany's roles. We met with Jon and Tiff, during which they were exceptionally open and honest. A month later Beth and I met with Jon plus two members of the board to talk about our vision, and get to know each other. Beth and I felt the meeting went incredibly poorly (though later we were told the board members had not felt that way at all).

Two months after that, we met with the entire board. In the end, they said "no," they do not feel God's calling for Beth and I to become the core leadership. That is not to say the board doesn't see AWAKEN continuing, only that we are not the ones they see in those roles. Which is okay, for three reasons: They said "no" for [what I consider to be] the right reasons; neither Beth nor I really wanted to be the "buck stops here" people in AWAKEN leadership (our desire to see the ministry continue overruled that non-desire); and there are at least one or two other proposals on the table from others interested in seeing AWAKEN continue, and even though Beth and I will not be the "it" people of leadership, that does not preclude us from being on a larger leadership team, were it to happen.

The board's answer, while it could be seen as disheartening and disappointing, was neither to me. People who know me know how much I need "one more thing" on my plate, and, though AWAKEN would have become my priority over all else, it is admittedly a relief not needing to make those time-management choices that would have been required in my life.

My prayer after AWAKEN ended, and again after meeting with the board: "God, I don't know what my future is in AWAKEN, what you have in store, but, here I am. That's it. Here I am."

That applies to life, as well, not just AWAKEN. Major life changes from 2012 have included: a new job, starting a new company, the end of AWAKEN, acceptance into candidacy for seminary, a new roommate, a relationship starting, and ending, and, most recently, a major house plumbing kerfuffle (blog post coming soon). When I look at how much change could happen in a matter of two or three weeks, I realize I have no idea what to expect from the next two or three months, years, etc. God only knows. It's not something I need to solve, I just need to keep myself open to possibilities, and understand that reality will look vastly different than anything I dream up; my imagination is limited, His is not.

On April 29, before shutting down the sound system the final time, Blair and I played the song "Only the Beginning of the Adventure", from the Chronicles of Narnia soundtrack. It seemed fitting.

Welcome to the Adventure.

Vietnamese Vegans

Los Angeles brings me the weirdest adventures. Yesterday, Anne and I went to watch two of her friends in a softball game - apparently TV shows here have softball leagues, and they were both playing with the crew of The Middle. Afterward, Anne's friend Laura told me about a show she's assistant stage managing: a musical about Vietnamese vegans and vegetarians. No, seriously, those words were used to describe it.

Laura offered Anne and I comps for that evening to see the [one and only] performance. Anne likes musicals, I like musicals, so sure, why not?

Turns out this show was a freaking big deal. Red carpet, fancy dresses, tuxes (I felt soooo out of place in my business casual - blame it on being out of town, it's not like I packed a suit), and TONS of cameras. Picture the Oscars. Except Vietnamese. And vegan.

Will Call had trouble finding our tickets, so ended up giving us seats in the fourth row. Center. $75 seats. Free. Win. The acrobats in the first act were literally flying right over our heads.

The show took us on a whirlwind tour across the globe, featuring songs and dance numbers from more than a dozen countries, all based on the poetry of Ching Hai. Truly awe-some performances. The songs were interwoven by the story of strangers on a train, struggling to find their inner peace. That part of the show was predictable, but didn't detract from the amazing musical numbers.

And of course, also nerd-tastically fun to watch, were the cameras - a dolly right in front of us, a steadicam operator walking near us, a couple jibs/cranes. Quite. the. deal.

I'm still coming down from the high. What a night.

PSA Against the Marriage Amendment

Minnesotans will vote in November 2012 on a constitutional amendment that would prevent marriage equality. On religious and personal moral grounds, I strongly oppose this anti-family, anti-marriage amendment, so when my friend Maggie approached me with a script for a "vote no" PSA, I immediately agreed to produce it. We shot for one day in May 2012, and this is what we made.