Songs of Pain and Hope

I was going to write you about how life is complex, including and especially our hearts. The heart is probably the most unknowable of all, to others and even ourselves. Mine was probably on the more complex side. I think it was a combination of who I was born to be as well as the circumstances I was placed in. But I want to write you about God. 

I did a lot of good in this life but I also made mistakes. My heart has its own darkness. I fought it. Sometimes I won, at others I didn’t. God watched over all and somehow made a path. He accounted for who I was, what I faced, needed, and wanted. I meant what I said about wanting to tell you about everything. For some reason, I feel God leading me that way. I do have many close friends and professionally and personally, some will understand some parts better than you will. But it’s you I want to know. It’s probably God as well as intuition. 

I talk to Him about several issues. The main ones, as I have mentioned, are the kids, finding the next position that makes sense, possibl getting more exposure for my writing, and you. What I hear back mainly is “Trust Me. I will take care of everything.”  

When I was at RM, I had only been in this country for 2 years. Although I spoke English in Malaysia, the adjustment was difficult. The social structure and environment were so different. I had to do it with an unstable family that sometimes veered into worse. When I met you, I was a senior and you were a sophomore. I was more comfortable then, but not really. I did not know what the future would hold and there was so much uncertainty. Who could I really rely on? It wasn’t family, friends, teachers, supervisors. In so many ways, they could not really understand what I experienced, felt, faced, struggled with. I suspect this is true of most, if not all, of us. The heart is so complex and difficult at times. This pattern would hold through really the rest of the time. The odd duck who never could fit in. 

But I think God understood. In the middle of the night, I often wake up with worry, sadness, and doubt. He comes to comfort me. The feeling is one of peace and hope. I go back to sleep. And this is true when I ask Him about you. “Trust Me.” 

I also think we are simple. At heart, we just want to be loved. Known and loved. I want to tell someone all that I was and still am – all of it, the good, the bad, the hidden, and hear those precious words back. You know what they are. This doesn’t take away from the journey I had. I learned so much. Sometimes I forget. 

When my daughter was still crawling, we went to the Children’s Museum in Boston. We dropped a phone there. We texted it in the hope that someone found it. Someone did. They said they would return it to us at the Museum the next day. When we went to pick it up, they said their grandmother got sick and they couldn’t make it to the appointment. When we followed up, we got the runaround. We brought the phone to a police station and showed the officer on duty the text messages. She said that they were honest and would give it back. But I kinda knew that wasn’t the case. We never got it back. They were messing with us. I tell this story because things aren’t always what they seem to be – it was so true of my life. Just recently, I told some for the first time that I once pulled a guy from a car wreck as an EMT. I would sleep at the fire station overnight and roll into work the next day. I rode the ambulance and fire engine. Learned to rappel (poorly) and to use the Jaws of Life, the tool used to access vehicles. 

At the risk of repetition, this wss primarily about being known and loved. I wasn’t on the most part. People said they loved me, but they didn’t know me. And many times, it was just words. Love for me was loyalty, unconditional acceptance, standing by me through everything.

The question I think God asks is “Can you trust Me with everything, including the pain?” Everything and everyone is so cracked, so broken. If it’s one thing I’ve leaned in this life is that everyone will fail you, fall short.  

A close friend, who was a former undercover officer, had an abusive mother (like mine at times). His uncle and aunt wanted to adopt him to rescue him but they didn’t. He confronted them and cursed his uncle out, who just hung his head in shame. I also confronted my uncle and aunt recently and asked why they didn’t intervene. I got some excuses. 

I’ve said this often. This society is overly therapized. I do not look down on it but it has significant limitations. What we needed were people to protect and love us. I needed to be rescued from these incredibly chaotic situations. The salt in the wound is when people throw our advice that is untimely or doesn’t fit. Especially without listening to the true and whole story. I really don’t like it when people overly simplify or downplay what I’m saying. They often want Cliff Notes summaries but that’s now how it works. Some of our stories are intricate and complex.

People ask me what’s next. I honestly don’t know other than to trust God and listen. I’ve had some major training and other experiences, we will see what God does with all of it. You are somehow part of it. This is one of the rare times I can’t see beyond the next day. If I look at anything but God, I despair.

What’s probably really happening is that God is still getting me ready to lead. That’s what all the loneliness and isolation is for. That’s the classic method. To learn to overcome doubt in Him and self.

When I first arrived in Maryland 33 years ago in 1990, people would make the 4 to 5 hour drive to New York City to eat Chinese food as what was available here was extremely limited. Nowadays, the Chinese food here is not only comparable, but in some ways, better. I told you before that I wanted to leave Maryland. I think it had something to do with dreaming and seeing new things. Also a bigger vision. No regrets on that end. 

Life is not easy for all of us. But in sone and many ways, I knew that staying here would be limiting. What I actually accomplished won’t really show up on my resume. I told my daughter that much of me was hidden, under the surface. She goes – Dad, you write poetry? You play sports? I don’t think it’s because I was afraid of showing it rather than it being a matter of timing and opportunity. 

I think this is all about destiny. I’m not sure how much that concept overlaps with fate. On one side of the scale is destiny, on the other, it is everything else in its way. I think the largest and worst of those is fear. People either propel you to destiny or get in the way. But maybe, all lead you to it. 

Few had very little idea how to stand by me and help me to find, if not my destiny, at least the path, calling, purpose, or whatever I had to do. Most never really asked that important question – “What is really happening?” 

So I may have lied. A little bit. I think it is still about being understood, at least to some extent. With some people, I can talk until I’m blue in the face, and they wouldn’t get it. I sometimes joke that I wish I had a video recording of all the crazy experiences and environments I’ve been exposed to. And it still wouldn’t be enough as emotions, motives, intent, are often hidden. 

I could always sense more than I could immediately describe. In law enforcement, one has to be able to articulate the reasons for a stop or arrest. On many occasions, it is difficult to do so in the face of intuition, experience, and instinct. I could tell with you immediately how I would feel. And that you had grown and changed. 

Life is so messy. It’s not even about the fairytale, script, plan. Many times, it just happens. A death without warning. A dangerous idea that almost makes sense. Most of my major milestones and life events were unplanned and unexpected. Like the kids. 

I wonder what has changed me the most. Was it my jobs, travel, friends, enemies, experiences, books? Maybe all the above, but it has to be pain, suffering, and wrestling with all that comes with those. I often say that what I’m proudest of was birthed in pain – my jumpshot, guitar playing, problem solving, the kids, even writing. While I truly despise pain, it is a most powerful and effective teacher. 

My friend who was a public defender said she couldn’t sleep for years after her casework. I was different. Malaysians can sleep anywhere and anytime. My reaction was not to cry. I joke somewhat that there are no tears allowed in these professions. I now see my daughter building her own armor that I built for myself. I no longer want to wear it. She will for a while as she is a lot like me. A pure defender in all forms of the word. She lives up to her name. 

The boy is different. He has my soft side. He writes and illustrated books. He has created a “Dumb Series” – about a dumb cat, penguin, fox, etc. He also is writing “The Dad Who Curses a Lot”. He is funny. He’s also a lot like me. His temper I think is also mine. The girl cries like me, from the gut. 

They are worth all the pain. The rest I’m not so sure.

Every morning, I wake up and remember what has happened on this journey. I don’t do it to relive the trauma or even good memories but rather to remind myself there is a thread running through all of it. To remind myself there is some sort of plan and master design. 

My first job out of college was at a biotech company. I worked the second shift from 2 to 1030 pm. The work was menial and repetitive. My boss was not good. She lied and manipulated. She didn’t even know how her own lab functioned. One day, the FDA conducted an audit, observing how we performed. She was supposed to lead us but ended up messing up one of the procedures. Embarrassed, she blames us all. 

I cut my thumb really badly during that job. I bled all over the floor and they took me to the ER at Shady Grove Hospital where I waited for hours in vain for someone to see me. I just went back to work and I still have a scar till this day. That job was miserable for many reasons. I would leave work drenched in chemicals and organic material. Working that shift threw off my sleeping schedule. I knew though that it wasn’t a permanent job because I was accepted to Maryland’s one year program to become a teacher, biology presumably. I dropped out after 3 days. It didn’t feel right. And that set me on a course I couldn’t have imagined going on. 

 I am tired. 

I would be lying if I told you I enjoyed every bit of this path, It was damn painful so many times. And I’ve already mentioned the loneliness. So crushing. So haunting. I did all of it with limited to no support while facing opposition and doubts. I could point to my resilience and strength but that would be also a lie. I think God watched over me even though many times it didn’t feel like it. All the incredibly high places, all the low ones. He was there. 

I often ask, who answers? Who intervenes? I think He did, sometimes in obvious ways, others more subtly. There was grace, mercy, and justice in the short and long term. I was a very shy and scared child. I cried before going to kindergarten. I prayed and prayed as a kid that I wouldn’t be weak and afraid, that I’d learn to be strong and brave. I’m not sure how much I really learned. 45 and I still feel like I did as a 3 year old.  

Maybe faith is really a gift and maybe it’s a double edged sword. I would have had less pain but maybe not as well. Love is not an easy thing. The only baggage that we can bring is all that we can’t leave behind. I took my basketball, Bible, and guitar. I no longer have any of them with me. They have been replaced by other things – not so tangible ones.

I remember your middle name, unbelievably. It is similar to a colleague’s I met in Austria. I don’t know why I even mentioned that other than the fact I feel we are all mish-mashes of our pasts and all we are. The hard part is to find where our mish-mashes fit in – whether it’s a place, profession, or person.

I once decided to look and find. This time, I’m listening and waiting to receive.

The sad part about all of this is that the qualities that made me special and them too are ignored.  I haven’t actually told anyone exactly what I’ve done and learned during this often painful uncertain journey but it will come into play for my kids in the future.  I know every parent thinks their kids are special but I’ve been around so many types of people that I know for sure.

Recently, I had two memories of you.  Both happened at the fair.  The first was you wearing a shirt that had a tortoise and a snail racing each other.  I made fun of it but it was a cute shirt.  My daughter said that would be the type of shirt she would like as well.  The second memory is when you picked up a guitar and sang a song.  You were actually quite good and have a nice voice.  And when you sang, it wasn’t that your voice was beautiful as much as it reflected your spirit, your soul.

I spent three weeks in the hospital.  Other than my parents, only two other parties visited – my college roommate and one set of mt daughter’s godparents.  My parents came every other day or two days.  Usually they would stay for a brief period.  My mom would pat my foot and that would be pretty much it.  I cried a lot and couldn’t move because of the pain.  One night. I woke up around 2 am and called out your name.  A nurse heard me and brought me some Jello.