"What do I want from this life?"- 41st Birthday Lament

Warning: This is a long autobiographical look at my life's ambitions and difficulties. Not particularly inspirational reading. I am not sure why I wrote it or why I am publishing it, but I think I should.

This year for Christmas, the blogger Fisherbabe was inspired to write a rather introspective post for the holidays. This particular paragraph really hit me:

This holiday season, it is my wish for all of you that you ask yourself the question, "What do I want from this life?"...and that you give yourself a truly honest answer. You may be surprised at what flows forth from one simple question.

For whatever reason, I feel compelled to write out an answer to the question for myself.

I read the question "What do I want from this life?" and started thinking about my answer. My first thought was that I don't want or expect much from this life, and that is just the way it is for me. However, I didn't stop thinking about the question with just that and pondered myself a little further.

What do I really want from this life? Then something from out of my past stuck out clearly in my mind's eye. What I really want from this life is to be used by God. Was not that what I really want?

While on a youth group mission trip to Puerto Rico in 1986, at the age of 16, on a clear starry night at the top of a small mountain, while all alone, I committed my life to the Lordship of Jesus Christ; I vowed to serve God for the rest of my life. And for the next few years, I prepared myself to do just that with vigorous immersion into Bible study, prayer, Christian community, and ministry. I went to Northwestern Bible College in St. Paul, MN, to study the Bible and Youth Ministry, which I thought was my career soul-mate/calling. I took my studies seriously and was a dedicated student. At this time, things were, for the most part, going very well in my life, and it seemed that my dreams were within reach and would all come true. I graduated with honors and immediately got the job I wanted with a company out of California that put on multi-media assembly programs in schools throughout the country. I thought this would be a fun job before I got into the business of a full-time church Youth Ministry.

The job was excellent, and one night before I went to sleep, I started thinking about a girl who went to Northwestern College. I didn't really know her well, but I found her quite attractive physically. On a whim, I wrote her a letter, not knowing if I would ever hear back. Sure enough, she did write back, and I came to find out that she also had admired me from afar. I was going to be in the Twin Cities in a couple of weeks, so I asked her out on a date, and she enthusiastically accepted.

October 10th finally came, and I took her out to eat at a place I loved, the Lido Restaurant, where I worked all four years of college. Within the first half hour of the conversation, I was hopelessly in love and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the woman I wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with. I silently pledged to myself to do everything I could to make that happen. The date went exceptionally well, and we went out the next day as I would be leaving town, not to be back until Thanksgiving. While on the road, we wrote many letters back and forth, getting to know one another and often bearing our souls. Through the letters and phone calls, I was growing to love her more with every interaction. Thanksgiving time came, and I had to drive across Wisconsin in a nasty storm to get home, so I could see her again.

The day after Thanksgiving, I drove to Glenwood City, WI, to meet her family and go on our 3rd date. Things went very well, and that night under the stars, we kissed for the first time. And if it wasn't confirmed yet, I was now passionately in love with this girl. On the way home, I literally cried with joy for at least 15 minutes for having met someone so totally wonderful. Once again, for me, it was life on the road with a courtship of phone calls and letters. I was on top of the world; life had never been so good. Christmas break finally came, and I headed home where I would spend as much time as possible with her. We went out multiple times on day-long dates, either up with her family in WI or down in the Twin Cities.

On New Years' eve 1992, I drove to WI to pick her up to take her back to cities where we would spend the night together at my parents' house in Bloomington. On the long drive to Bloomington, we reflected back on the year; I think she asked me what the highlight of my year was. I told her it was graduating from college, which wasn't true. Meeting her was the biggest highlight. I asked her the question back, and she responded that meeting me was the highlight of her year. I was "over the moon," never had anyone told me something so wonderful. We held hands, and all was right with the world.

We brought in 1993 in each other's arms.  We ended up falling asleep together, fully clothed people. I'm not having sex until I'm married. The following day we finished a book I had been reading her. She got pretty distraught as she shared with me the pain she and her family had gone through before her dad had come to Christ. He serially cheated on her mother. I comforted her the best I could, and we talked on a deeper level than we had ever before, and we had been plenty deep with each other before this point. My heart was now broken for her, and I knew more than ever there was no way I would ever want to live my life without her in it.

Things settled down, and eventually, we went downstairs and started making out again, fully clothed as always.  During this time, I could not hold it in any longer, and I told her I loved her. She asked me if I was sure.  I told her I was and we went back making out. Later on in the afternoon, I took her back to WI, and this would be the last time I would be able to see her until late May because my next job tour would be on the East Coast. Before she got out of the car, we prayed together, kissed one last time, and then she was gone.

1992 was the best year of my life; 1993 would be the worst.

Life on the road started out well as I basked in the glow of love. However, her trouble would soon rise as she began to struggle with the question of love. She wrote to me that she promised herself when she was young that she would never tell a guy she loved him until she was absolutely sure. She noted that she cared for me more than any guy she had ever met, but she couldn't yet say she knew me well enough to say she loved me. I wasn't bothered by this as all and was satisfied that she obviously cared deeply for me. I was in no rush for her to do anything as I was sure she would come around to the point where she could say she loved me in time. In a letter, she questioned how I could say I loved her, and I answered her back, trying to make her understand. My love for her was more than a feeling but a deep conviction within my mind, heart, and soul. My answers did not satisfy her, and one night in late February, I got a call, and she was in tears over this question. I don't remember what I told her, but apparently, it wasn't right, and soon she would grow distant, and her letters stopped coming. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached her by phone, and we agreed that she needed some space to work things out. The phone calls would stop, but I could still write her letters, though I shouldn't expect any back. I was obviously troubled by this but not too deep as I was confident this was a difficulty that could be overcome. I was confident it was God's will that we be together, and nothing could stop that, right? The next few months were tough, but I had a deep hope that things would work out when we could get together and talk things through face to face when my tour was over.

Another thing that happened during this time was that my dream Youth Ministry job, Jr. High Minister of Youth at Hope Presbyterian (my home church), had opened up, and I went through the interview process. The people involved in the search were familiar with me because we had worked closely together for several years when I was in college, volunteering and interning with this youth program. Much to my dismay, I didn't get the job. The significance of this would weigh on me much heavier later on down the line.

In addition to candidating for the Hope Youth Ministry position, I applied to be a Camp Counselor at Camp Shamineau near Motley, MN. To this point, my experience with Church Camps was with Camp Ojibway, a small camp owned by Hope Presbyterian. I thought working at a massive camp like Shamineau would be an outstanding Youth Ministry experience. I was familiar with Shamineau because some of my friends from high school went there and/or worked on staff as Jr. Counselors. Also, the woman of my dreams had been a counselor there for the two previous summers. I got the job unbeknownst to me a few weeks later; the women of my dreams once again applied and got a job as Camp Counselor there.

When I found out she would also be working at camp, it confirmed that God had a plan, and this relationship was meant to work out. Finally, after five long months, my tour was over, and I was back home. After a couple of days, I called her up, so we could meet and talk face to face. Seeing her again was all I could think about for those five months. I thought it was good to clear the air before working with each other all Summer. She didn't want to see me or talk. I was stunned and really hurt.

Orientation in preparation for the camp started, and I saw her beautiful face again at long last. Finally, one afternoon we got a chance to talk, and she explained to me where her head had been. She told me that she learned I wasn't the person she thought I was. Frankly, I was confused and stunned. I didn't know what to say.  When I was with her, I was never more myself, my best self. (Note- that is the truth and hurts to write). She told me that she and the person she was seeking council from came to the conclusion that telling her that I loved her was wrong because it put her in a bad position. Apparently, despite numerous assurances to the contrary by me, she believed my declaration demanded that she respond in kind. For me, almost nothing was resolved, and I just had more questions with which to wrestle. Camp started, and I threw myself into the work of being the best counselor I could be.   Many nights I would silently cry myself to sleep. I was confused and didn't know what to do, but pray, lean on my faith, and be at myself so she could see me for who I really was.

The Summer was emotional agony as I was so close to her, and she showed herself to be everything I knew her to be, entirely beautiful both inside and out.  I had a conviction that working so closely together, she would come around. The Summer went by, and towards the end, we had a couple more talks. It became clear things were not going to work out in terms of a romantic relationship. I was deeply disappointed, but I had tried my best, and it was what it was. We talked, and I told her because I cared so much for her that I wanted us to be friends, and I meant it. I guess I was naive because, in my experience, there were girls who liked me that I wasn't interested in with whom I had built good friendships. To me, that was normal.

The Summer finally ended, and at first, I was just dazed and shocked that things didn't work out. But soon, the shock gave way to the sting of rejection, and I began to hemorrhage hurt and shame. I went into a deep depression and was emotionally shattered into a million pieces. My heart was broken, and there was nothing to soothe the pain. I did attempt to build a friendship with her, but she was cold, and I thought she was annoyed with the whole situation. Even though it hurt enormously, I knew I had to say goodbye for good. I didn't tell her what I was doing, but I made one last phone call, and that was my final goodbye.

I basically mourned my loss hardcore through the Fall, Winter, Spring, and into the next Summer. I was in dire need of friendship and even professional counseling, but I hid my deep hurt and suffered alone primarily, crying out only to God.

"What do I want from this life?"
I wanted to love and serve and minister to LEN every day of my life, and I wanted that more than anything I have ever wanted or will ever want. And it didn't happen. The whole experience wounded and changed me, and I don't know of one good thing that has come of it.

Still, while the most important, this wasn't my only dream.

"What do I want from this life?"
Wasn't what I really wanted from this life is to be used by God? Despite the emotional blow of that relationship failure, my commitment to God remained firm. In the Fall of 1994, I once again pursued the calling of a career in Youth Ministry by registering to go through the 7 week Tentmakers Youth Ministry training program. That Tentmaker training experience was good and, in many ways healing to me, but the truth was I still needed a lot more healing; I had fissures that would only grow as the strains of ministry took their toll.

My first official full-time paid Youth Ministry position was at an ELCA Lutheran Church in Canby, a small SW Minnesota town just a few miles from the South Dakota border. The Church was not the best fit for me as I didn't grow up in a small town or the Lutheran Church. In some ways, the culture, especially that of older teens, was foreign to me. With Tentmakers, you sign on for a two-year commitment, and it was pretty clear to me early on that the position would probably not grow into something more long-term beyond those two years.

My time in Canby had its highs and lows, and I lasted 2 years and 4 months, but as the last 12 months went by, things progressively got more difficult personally and professionally. I didn't go out on my own terms. Frankly, the situation sucked for a couple of different reasons. Without going too far into the weeds, the Church had a pastoral staff of two, Sr. Pastor and I. About a year in, the Sr. Pastor retired, and so the Synod brought in an interim Pastor while the Church conducted its search process for new leadership. The interim Pastor was fantastic and became a much-beloved mentor to me. The biggest suck at the end was the lousy position the interim Sr. Pastor was put in by the Church. The Church board rejected his advice about how to best handle my situation, and it was he that got hung out to dry because of it. He had to soldier on alone in a very demanding position for another year after I left because several consecutive Pastoral prospects fell through, and they kept having to totally restart the search process.

I had hoped to stay on at the Church through the end of the Summer for the sake of Pastor Cy; I would have been willing to stay on longer because there definitely would have been a need. As it was, the Church dumped me at the end of April. It seemed to work out well enough for me as I moved into my family's lake cabin near Annandale, MN. I fished all Summer into the Fall and applied for a few Youth Ministry positions. In early September, my parents' intended retirement home on some land up by Mille Lacs Lake, where I now live, was totally destroyed by a tornado. I then spent quite a bit of time here helping to clean up the mess.

I didn't get any of the ministry positions for which I was interviewed. When the weather got too cold at the Annandale cabin, I moved back in with my parents in Bloomington. It wasn't long before I started to get very depressed that I wasn't getting any offers for a new ministry position. Once again, my dream job of working at Hope Presbyterian had its whole Youth Ministry staff open up; I got a short letter thanking me for my interest and informing me I wouldn't even get an interview. I was significantly hurt by that development. As the winter wore on, I got extremely depressed. I lived a very isolated existence, having lost touch with friends from high school and college. I didn't get involved with Christian fellowship anywhere in the anticipation that a new church position was forthcoming, and that is where I would plugin again. However, I think it was in March or April that I attended my first meeting of the Fishers of Men Club (Twin Cities)

Winter turned into Spring without any offers and few interviews. Early in the Summer, I voluntarily assisted Tentmakers Youth Ministry for the first two weeks of the 7 week Youth Ministry Training. I hoped that experience might turn into something more, but it didn't, and I just got more depressed when no offer came. It was into September, and I was highly discouraged when I got a call for an interview with an Evangelical Free Church in the NW Suburb of Rogers, MN. The position was at an Evangelical Free Church, the one that runs Camp Shamineau. The interview process went well, and they offered me the job starting in October. I quickly found an optimal housing situation for me and my dog Soren and things seemed to be really clicking. Obviously, things were happening in God's timing, and I was the happiest I had been in a long time.

I wasn't in the Church very long, and I felt right at home. I thought that this was a position I would be in for a long time. The longer I was there, the more comfortable I felt, and things seemed to be going well. In March, I was to have a 6-month evaluation, but it didn't happen until mid-April. I was given a form to complete evaluating how I thought my performance had been and what I thought could be improved. I filled it out, turned it in to the people responsible for doing the review. Within a few days, I met with the Pastor and a couple of Men from the Church Board.

I was 100% blindsided by what they told me; in their view, my performance was unsatisfactory, and many problems needed immediate attention. To say the least, I was shocked. They basically put the ball in my court, giving me a few days to think and pray about it and get back to them. I went to my parent's cabin near Annandale to get away, and I fell apart. It was like getting rejected by her all over again. All those feelings of inadequacy dogging me ever since the breakup came to the surface wave after wave. After about a day of that, I went back home and sought counsel from several people about just what I should do. My ministry training said something was seriously wrong with the picture, and I was in an impossible situation where the chances of turning things around were relatively low. The only people that counseled me differently were the couple at the Church I was closest to on my ministry team. I decided it was best if I resigned, which I did as gracefully as I could.

Once again, my heart was broken, and there was no fix. After that fiasco, no church in their right mind would hire me, and I had 100% lost the ambition to ever try and be a Youth Pastor ever again.

"What do I want from this life?"
I wanted to be a Youth Minister serving my God for life, but I obviously wasn't very good at it when it came down to it. Epic Fail!

But on the bright side, at least I had my Norwegian Elkhound dog Soren, and I had found spiritual kinship in the Fishers of Men Fishing Club.

"What do I want from this life?"
That's a hard question when my two biggest dreams in life died miserable, longsuffering deaths. Some people are very resilient, and they quickly find new motivations; they find new dreams. I haven't. I just try to survive and am glad that the severe emotional pain has mostly gone away.

"What do I want from this life?"
I could still be used by God; wasn't that what I really wanted and had committed my life towards?

I stayed at the Church for a while because I liked the people and the youth, but eventually, I became disillusioned with and bitter towards the Pastor. I decided to leave the Church at that point. Turns out the Pastor didn't last much longer after having served there for about 20 years.

I ended up losing my ideal housing situation in the Spring of 2000 and then bounced around in a few that were less than ideal for the next couple of years. I had a job at an Outdoor retailer, which I enjoyed, but it didn't pay very well. I found myself sinking deeper into debt, a problem that had started back in Canby when I got sick, and my medical insurance was insufficient by a couple thousand dollars.  I didn't think to ask the Church to step up. I probably had the chance to advance the company, but I wasn't motivated to do it. I got a 2nd job working nights in a warehouse that paid better, but then I was too tired to work at the store, so I had to quit.

Right after 9/11, I ended up moving in with a good friend from high school. He lived in an apartment in South Minneapolis that didn't allow dogs, so my dog Soren, much to my dismay, had to go live with my parents. After coming home one weekend from being up North fishing, I got back to find a note from my friend saying he was skipping town and I was on my own. Fortunately, the landlord was an understanding guy and let me stay there until I could find a new place. As it turns out, I would quickly find a great situation with a fantastic group of Christian guys in a house that was much closer to my job and took dogs, so Soren was back with me.

Life in this house was good for me as I was surrounded by great fellowship. I got involved with a good church one morning while I was reading my Bible and praying. I had a mystical experience; A brilliant white light came to me and spoke, and it was as if all the pain I had been carrying was taken away. Once again, I started to experience real profound joy, which was something that had escaped me ever since my heart was broken the first time. I was on a "spiritual high" for at least six months. But then my job situation started to sour as the company wasn't keeping its promises to me. I started getting physically fatigued. I went on vacation and didn't return until a couple of days after I was supposed to be back. At that point, the company owed me a raise which I hadn't seen in more than 6 months; I figured they owed me. They didn't see it that way, and I was fired.

I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do next and very half-heartedly looked for new employment. Pretty soon, I started getting very discouraged again. I began slipping spiritually, emotionally, financially, and, as I would soon find out, physically.

I had been unemployed for about 6 months when on March 14th, 2003, I woke up with the flu. It was awful. I also developed a nasty pain in my upper back between my shoulder blades. I had been experiencing similar pain after playing broomball games that winter, but I thought it was just a chronically pulled muscle. That morning the pain became excruciating at times. I thought I had terrible cramps from dehydration as I couldn't keep anything down. Eventually, I called my youngest brother, who didn't live very far away, to come to take me to the hospital so I could get an IV. I was miserable, and the pain was highly intense. I got to the emergency room and was admitted. I'm surprised I didn't pass out while being admitted; I was in bad shape.

The doctor came into my room and immediately zero' ed in on my shoulder pain, and brought an EKG into the room. Upon getting the readings, he knew I was going through something more serious than the flu. They wheeled me out of the room and gave me morphine, which made me feel worse as it tightened my already badly nauseated stomach. They also gave me nitro pills. Another doctor showed up, and they informed me I was having a heart attack and would be immediately ambulance to Mercy Hospital in Coon Rapids, where there is a Cath lab.

"What do I want from this life?"
While I waited for the ambulance to be ready, I was in so much pain I just wanted to die and was totally at peace with it.

As I am writing this now, I obviously didn't die, which is a bit surprising because my problem was in the "widowmaker," where a blockage often means you don't get to write a blog about it. I had an angioplasty with a stent put in, and then I was taken to Intensive Care. When I woke up, I was already feeling better, and the nurses were fabulous and all good looking which helped my mood;). Eventually, I was soon moved to a regular hospital room.

On the day of my heart attack, my Mom started heading home to Pennsylvania, where her Mom was dying. Upon getting the news about me, she immediately headed back to Minnesota. I think my Grandmother died the same day I was moved into the regular hospital room. Since it was clear I was out of the woods, my Mom headed back to Pennsylvania to be with her family there. The people of the Church where my youngest brother was a Youth Pastor were wonderful, and I was visited several times by one of their pastoral staff; I was given a prayer shawl knitted by the ladies of the Church, which was a true comfort.

"What do I want from this life?"
How about my medical bills paid?

One night while lying awake alone, it hit me that I was already beyond broke, without insurance, and I would have no way to pay for this. It was very depressing, and I cried myself to sleep that night. As it turns out, I was visited the next day by someone who inquired about my financial situation, which I laid out. This person assured me that things would be taken care of, and I didn't need to worry. I don't remember if I believed him very much.

I wasn't in particularly good shape, and when it came time to leave the hospital later in the week, I went to stay at my youngest brother's house. The Iraq War started, and I watched "Shock and Awe." I think it might have been the second night when my youngest brother, his wife, and I were watching TV sometime after 10PM when we got a call from my Mom asking us to pray. Her only remaining sister, of two, was unconscious, and my Aunt's heart had stopped. My Mom is a nurse and had been giving her sister CPR until the ambulance came. My Aunt was pronounced dead either in the ambulance or at the hospital; I forget which. Needless to say, it was a nightmare of a week for my mother.

It quickly became apparent that my heart had suffered significant damage, but it would not be evident how bad it was until another 6 months. While at my brother's, I got a letter in the mail informing me that all my medical bills would be paid in full by the hospital and the people of the great state of Minnesota. When I saw just how much it was, I was in "shock and awe" along with being very grateful. THANK YOU, Allina Health Systems and Minnesota!!!

Since I was weak and we didn't know just how bad off my heart would be, the decision was made that I would move in with my parents at their place on Platte Lake in Central Minnesota. Upon moving in with them, I started cardiac rehabilitation therapy at the local hospital in Onamia. I started regaining some physical strength and endurance back, but I needed to sleep a lot. I fell into chronic depression, but it wasn't as bad as it might be because of having my Mom and Dad so close, and of course, there were our dogs.

After 6 months, it came time to get checked to see how bad the damage was done to my heart. The results were not encouraging. I think my ejection fraction was down around 20, and 55-75 is considered a normal healthy heart. My cardiologist told me sometime in the future, but there is no way to know how long I will go into congestive heart failure and probably need a heart transplant. Also, I am at high risk of developing a fatal, irregular heartbeat, so I recommended that I get an Internal Cardio Defibrillator, which I had put in right before Thanksgiving.

"What do I want from this life?"
I just want to go fishing.

I have been lucky my heart function has improved with time, and now my ejection fraction is around 30, which is still pretty bad but way better than a 20. I dragged my feet but eventually decided to start the long process to apply for Social Security Disability about a year later.

Despite having my medical bills paid, with no income and little to no prospect of income in the immediate future, my financial situation was hopeless. I filed for bankruptcy, which was quite depressing. Pretty much the only assets I had were my fishing equipment and my truck; I got to keep those because they were such small potatoes.

I could become more independent, but I started running into conflicts with my mother over some things. My Mom and Dad were worried about my mental health, specifically my depression. They strongly suggested that I get counseling, which I did. I didn't tell anyone, but I started having strange mental symptoms and thought I was going crazy at times. I was put on medication for depression, but I don't think it helped, and my mental health was actually deteriorating. I started showing symptoms of bipolar disorder, but I kept that hidden for the most part, at least to the people physically around me. The people at the Internet message board RealityTVPlanet.com witnessed some of my erratic thoughts as I would go through manic phases.

By the end of the cardiac rehab in the Fall of 2003, I had regained a fair amount of physical stamina and was able to go fishing for extended periods. I continued to be involved with the Fishers of Men Fishing Club. In 2004 I joined a  bass fishing club with the sponsorship of my oldest brother and his wife. I volunteered with Great Expectations Ministries or GEM, a fishing ministry to mostly underprivileged and inner-city youth based out of the Twin Cities. GEM runs Summer camps around greater Minnesota. In November of 2004, I started my blogging career.

Something that surely did not help matters in terms of my mental health was that on December 15th, 2004, my dog Soren suddenly and unexpectedly died at the young age of only 8. In his last couple of years, Soren had developed a series of health issues, and apparently, there was something more serious going on than the vets or we knew. Looking back, I think I handled it somewhat well. I always knew my time with Soren would be limited; I just didn't know how long. As it was, I could have died before Soren. While Soren was alive, I loved and enjoyed the dog about as much as I could. Losing Soren was tough but not wretchedly painful. I have a firm conviction that there is an afterlife, and I believe dogs make the cut.

"What do I want from this life?"
Soren to visit in my dreams, and from time to time, he does.

On September 26th of 2005, my deteriorating mental health came to a head, and I had a psychotic breakdown. I was hallucinating, and I had all kinds of distorted thoughts which I was acting out. It was bizarre, and I remember most of it. Literally, I had gone crazy. My parents called for an ambulance and their Pastor. I was entirely out of my mind. The Pastor showed up, as did the first responders, and then the ambulance came. I was coaxed into the ambulance by an excellent-looking parametric and maybe a good-looking first responder too. I may have been out of my mind, but not so far as to not be a sucker for a pretty girl. I was taken to the Onamia Hospital emergency room, where I was sedated and stabilized until they could find an open Psych Ward where they could send me. After a few hours and a visit from my youngest brother, the Youth Pastor, I was sent to a hospital in Duluth, MN. By the time I had talked with my brother, I was returning to normal but medicated. When I got to Duluth, I calmly explained everything that happened and what I had been thinking.

As you can imagine, this episode significantly frightened my parents and family. I stayed in Duluth for a few days of observation though I think I was back to totally sane before I went to bed that first night. I had daily meetings with the staff Psychiatrist and group therapy sessions with some of the other "guests." In a few days, I was cleared to go. My Mom wasn't so sure as I don't think she had been given a good explanation and was not assured it would not happen again. Dad drove me home on a beautiful Fall day.

"What do I want from this life?"
After that experience, just being in my right mind would be nice.

I was put on medications by the Onamia hospital Psychiatrist and got a different psychologist who was better equipped to deal with my case. The drugs seemed to make a positive difference, and my new therapist and I got along really well. In addition to being a licensed psychologist, he also has a Master of Divinity which I think helped immensely because spiritually, we were eye to eye. Eventually, my parents came to a few therapy sessions, which was really good for them and our relationship. My parents understood me better and what I had been and was going through. I think they felt a great deal more compassion for me, especially my Mom. In time, it seemed that my counseling sessions had run their course, and so we stopped, but I don't remember exactly when that was.

"What do I want from this life?"
I just want to go fishing, but soon I didn't even want to do that much.

In the Spring and early Summer of 2006, I started to develop an aversion to the heat when it was hot. I was getting fatigued much more quickly and for a longer duration. It may very well have been a side effect of my psychiatric medications. On July 8th, early in the morning, on my way to a bass club fishing tournament about 20 minutes into the trip, I hit a deer with my truck and pretty much totaled it. Amazingly I was able to turn the truck around and limp it home. Dad wanted me to take his vehicle and go to the tournament, but I was bummed out by this development and just went to bed. I went into a heat fatigued fueled depression and never fished another tournament with that bass club. The only thing I blogged about the whole month of July was about hitting the deer. On August 23rd, I blogged:
Ever since I hit that deer, I have had very little interest in fishing. I've only been on the water twice since; Both trips, I was fishing with someone else, or I wouldn't have bothered. Since I've had no interest in fishing, there has been no interest in blogging about fishing or anything else. I guess the BP is just drowning in the dog days of Summer. I didn't blog about a single thing in Sept 2006, the only month I haven't blogged anything since starting the Bass Pundit project in November 2004. Slowly my desire to fish and blog have come back, although ice fishing and Fall walleye trolling on Mille Lacs no longer animate me like they had previous to the breakdown.

"What do I want from this life?"
To be used by God, isn't that what I really want?

After the breakdown, I got actively involved with a Christian Missionary Alliance Church in Garrison, MN. That was good for a while, but I ran out of inspiration to be involved. After about a year and a half of attendance, I just stopped going. I haven't made any attempts to find a new church since. My participation with the Fishers of Men Fishing Club and with GEM would soon start to diminish significantly as well. The fact is my desire to be used by God has become seriously sapped out. I still acknowledge God with my head and still pray occasionally, but my heart is far away. Spiritually speaking, my heart is cold and indifferent.

With blogging and fishing in time, my desire to do those things has returned. Will I ever find desire and passion for God again?

"What do I want from this life?"
I want to love the Lord God with all my mind, heart, soul, and strength. But with what I've been through right now, I just can't seem to find much love. My mind seems dull, my heart is cold, my soul is in the wilderness, and my strength has failed me. Even still, I believe God has a great love for me even though I really just don't understand it.

In Psalm 73, one of my favorites, it is written:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."