I was the first grandchild in my family on both sides, and from many memories and pictures I could tell I was spoiled rotten! My family was all in Michigan, and the first 6 years of my life I grew up as any child did - wearing some very interesting plaid clothing and Oxford saddle shoes. My parents were divorced around the time I was 6, and when that happened, my mom got re-married and moved out to California, where I followed soon after they were settled. The plan was that I would come visit my dad and grandparents for a couple months of every summer. I became a world traveler at a very young age, because they put me on a plane by myself to Michigan, and it became some of the most fun times I remember. I visited my dad for about 3 weeks at a time, however, I never saw him because of his job. He was a high school football coach, teacher, and driver instructor which kept him very busy, and there was only a few times that we really ever spent time together as father and son. He got remarried eventually and had another son, my brother, when I was about 12 years old. I was so happy to have a brother, and when I finally got to see him, we hit it off immediately. I remember having some fun times with him even with the age difference. The last time I really remember him was when he was about 3 years old, but the time we had was really fun- I taught him how to skip rocks in a pond, and we did it for hours and we would laugh. When I went to leave, he said that next time I come we should throw rocks together and laugh. I never saw him again.
My mom and step-dad got a divorce when I was about 13. My step-dad, incredibly, stayed involved in my life, even though we were not blood related, he and his parents and siblings treated me like I was their own. I really felt love, but there was still something missing- I still hadn't had that father-son connection with my biological dad. I really started to feel the hurt through my teenage years, and couldn't understand the lack of affection and attention from my dad.
When I was 16, my real dad was involved in a messy divorce from his current wife. The mess divided our families from each other- my dad's side and his wife and her family's side. Because of the circumstances, my brother's mom was protecting him from us, a fact that I understood from a certain perspective, but it still hurt. I desired a relationship with my brother, but was not able to have one with him due to the things that occurred. I desired a relationship with my real dad, but was unable to. I felt lost. Through my teenage years I began to try to fill my emptiness and hurt with alcohol, pornography and inappropriate relationships that really started to taint and ruin my image of women. I had a great family around me- my mom did an incredible job raising me as a single mom, and my uncles and aunts were always there for me- I felt more like a brother to the family rather than a nephew- rarely, if ever, did I call them "uncle" or "aunt"- I always called them directly by their names. Still, my thoughts were of how I could fill the emptiness in my heart- partying, drug experiments, sports- anything that would gain me acceptance. I needed to feel accepted, the kind of acceptance that a son gets from his father.
Enter the most beautiful woman in the world. Christmas of 1989, I met the woman God chose for me and we fell in love immediately- neither one of us were believers nor had we been brought up in any kind of church. We knew we were for each other, and that we would get married. Then, Jesus showed up! This is where it gets good, and due to the length of this first post, I will end part 1 here. (cliffhangers are cool!)
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