Would I go or would I stay? – Lessons Learned from NEVER SETTLED (Ch. 3 – NOT MOVING)

Would I go or would I stay? Chapter 3 – NOT MOVING was a pivotal point in my journey. My family moved nearly 80 times and I lived in almost 20 states before I graduated high school, yet at this point in my life—the spring of my junior year of high school—I was done moving, regardless of what my dad was going to do.

Becoming a highly competitive high school wrestler drove me to success and a sense of personal pride. It helped me belong and have hope. My dad was about to take that away from me again and I was resolved to dig my heels in. Sports—particularly wrestling—had become my life. I wasn’t about to lose it.

Yet, I didn’t want to lose my family either. My older sister, Terri ran away from home at thirteen and finished high school with a foster family. My older brother, Jimmy also ran away at thirteen and finished high school with a friend’s family who took him in. When they left, it broke my heart. I missed them dearly. I had three younger brothers and a younger sister, as well and I didn’t want them to go through what I went through, yet I felt like I had no choice.

What do we do when our family wants something different than us?

How do we handle the conflict?

I cannot begin to tell you the depth of what this chapter ultimately means in my life.

I moved into Springfield, Ohio after serving in the Marine Corps in 1996. I have lived there ever since. At first, I loved it. The people were so much nicer than those in Small Town, Colorado. The grass was literally greener without even having to water it. The trees were large and full of enormous, lush leaves. I loved the biological contrast from my days out west where everything, it seemed, was dead.

The people I met in Springfield—primarily those at High Street Church of the Nazarene—had taken me in as family. They loved me. They accepted me. They even admired me.

Yet, in the years to come, I began to truly hate the weather in Ohio. It wasn’t the clouds and rain, though I did notice that and have been annoyed by the lack of sunshine from time to time. It was the cold and bitter winters. I know, I know, the winters were not much different than Colorado. 

It’s not that I grew up in the warmth, but I had the most difficult, depressing winter when I was deployed on a Med Float in the Marine Corps. My wife was pregnant during that time with medical complications and I was half-way across the world from her. 

Winter has depressed me ever since.

I have wanted to move south for more than twenty years. My wife and I have discussed it and even made plans to do it a few times, yet never felt like it was the right thing to do at that time. Ultimately, we stayed for the benefit of our girls.

My dad wanted to move and did so many times for selfish, personal reasons. Yet, when he made the decision to move (oftentimes on a whim), we simply did it—at a moment’s notice. 

I resolved to never treat my family like that. My wife and I have had many, many discussions on potentially moving and ultimately, we have stayed because we were never on the same page to move at the same time. 

I believe, in my heart and with everything that I know, that we have made the right decision for our girls. I believe we made the right decision for our marriage. I hope that they know that I have continued to live in a climate that contributes to my winter blues for their benefit. I hope they know it is because I love them, I have been willing to sacrifice for them. That’s what a parent should do. That’s what a husband should do.

Here are the lessons learned…

Communicate: When big, important decisions come into play in our lives, we must communicate with those we love before we make decisions. We must know how it will impact them and how they feel about it. We must ask and we must listen. They may not make the decision for us, but we need to know how it will impact them.

Sacrifice: Great leadership requires sacrifice. No one taught this better than Jesus, simply by the way he lived his life and ultimately his death. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13 If we are to lead our families well, we must be willing to sacrifice for their benefit. This is the type of leadership that Jesus demonstrated and the type of leadership that best benefits the whole family.

I know that my time will come and it is coming soon. I can’t wait to tell you about it. 

But for now, know this. 

When big, important decisions in your life come—talk to your family about them. Listen to them. And make the decision about what’s best for the entire family, not just yourself. Be willing to sacrifice, if necessary.

I fell in love with 80s music—an excerpt from Ch. 15 of NEVER SETTLED

Initially, when we moved back to the plains of Colorado, we moved to a very small town called Deer Trail. Deer Trail is the Home of the World’s First Rodeo if that tells you anything about the kind of town that it is. Most of the streets in the town were dirt. Not gravel, but dirt. And dusty. The rodeo grounds sat at the northwest outskirts of town and the K-12 school sat at the southwest edge of town. We settled down just a few blocks away from the rodeo grounds in a small trailer court nearby. This was where I first began to become a big fan of music myself, as I finished out the seventh grade here.

Deer Trail was a small, public high school that housed a community swimming pool. I only had eight total classmates in my grade at Deer Trail, so coming by friends was a bit more difficult. These small town kids were only into cows or basketball or both. I was not. They had all grown up with each other for the past eight years of school. I had not. However, the one area I may have been able to connect with them was music. Due to my dad’s influence, my musical tastes coincided a bit, as my favorite artist was Glen Campbell and I loved the song, “Rhinestone Cowboy.” That is, until my older sister, Terri came home.

Terri graduated high school with her foster family the year before and spent the following year at a community college in Indiana. She decided that wasn’t for her after her spring term was complete and she returned home to live with us in Colorado for the first time since Christmas of her freshman year of high school. I continued to be the family chef, but Terri helped out also; making pizza and brownies as her specialty. Another of our family favorite meals was sausage gravy and biscuits, but Terri introduced us to her version which included chocolate gravy instead. I hated it, but others in the family enjoyed it. 

“You’ve got to listen to some better music!” Terri exclaimed. She hated my Glen Campbell. He wasn’t so popular in southern Indiana in 1985 when she graduated high school. 

“Well, what else would I listen to?” I responded, not really knowing many artists or band names.

“Johnny Cougar, for one!” she said proudly. “Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and Bryan Adams,” she continued.

“Well, put them on. Let me hear ‘em.” We had been making pizza for dinner and Terri had just placed the pizza pan in the oven and was getting ready to put some brownies on the upper rack. She placed them in the oven and ran down the hall of our trailer. She went back to her room that she shared with my younger sister, Shelby. She returned with her boombox and a few tapes. She slid a tape in the cassette slot and pressed play. The boombox erupted with, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper and she started dancing all around the kitchen. 

Terri had this way of just letting loose. She could fully live in the moment and enjoy music or the company of friends. I couldn’t believe the years we had lost without her and I was loving getting to know my sister again. I imagined how much fun she was to hang out with as a friend in high school. She often talked about her friends from that time, confessing stories of their parties and activities. I wished I had been there to experience it with her. I also wondered what it was like to stay in Loogootee and experience a somewhat normal life for four years. The song ended and she stopped dancing. 

“Here’s another great one,” she said as she pulled the tape out of the boom box and replaced it with another. “Summer of 69” by Bryan Adams filled the room.

“I got my first real six string…” Terri began playing air guitar and rocking around the room, singing every word. “Bought it at the five and dime… played it ‘til my fingers bled… was the summer of 69!” 

Her boombox blared at the top of its lungs. That was the only way to listen to music in our house. We didn’t just want to hear the music, we wanted to FEEL IT! And feel it, we did.

Terri continued to exchange tape after tape, introducing me to John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses” and Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl” and Toto’s “Africa.” We jammed and laughed and had a great time. Suddenly, we noticed smoke coming from the oven. We were having so much fun we didn’t even notice the burnt smell of pizza and brownies emanating from the kitchen. 

“Oh, crap!” Terri yelled.

“Dad’s gonna kill us!” I screamed back.