It was the summer of 1996 and I was thirteen. After spending the week at camp, fervently praying that we would not have to move from our home in Fort Lauderdale, my parents broke the news. We were relocating to this small town called Fort Myers. Weeping into my pancakes I was filled with a myriad of emotions. Anger at them that they would pull me away from my upcoming eighth grade school year (when all the good school trips happen), sadness that I would be leaving my friends, nervous that I would be starting anew, and disbelieving that God would deny my requests. Through syrupy tears I prepared my heart to leave the life that I knew to enter a new (and what would end up as the best) chapter in my life.
In a whirlwind of activity my life was boxed up and moved to a quaint home in North Fort Myers, Florida. I tried to stay positive but it was summer and I felt utterly alone. Several parents forced their children to invite me over and luckily I hit it off with a few teenagers my age. It seemed like I blinked and summer was over and it was time have a flurry of firsts. My first experience on a public school bus, my first time having my lunch money stolen, my first time walking in on kids smoking weed. It was so great (sarcasm). I was filled with frustration and anger. Through it all, though, I kept smiling.
That first Sunday at church I wish I could say that I had some sense of homecoming and deep meaning, but I really don’t remember any of it. Years later my wife’s mom told me that I sat in the pew in front of her and when it came time to “greet those around you” I said hello to her and shook her hand. She told me she thought to herself, “this young man had such a nice smile, he should marry my daughter.” She knew nothing about me except that I was the new pastor’s son and that I would greet her with a grin and say good morning, but she felt a connection in that moment.
A seed had been planted, a possibility had been birthed, a potential idea had been put into the world, and I was completely unaware.
Lesson number 1: Sometimes we go through pain so that we can be ready for what comes next.
In my misery God was bringing me to the place that I needed to be. I truly believe that Courtney had been perfectly made for me just I have have been made for her. You may be able to recall hearing the countless songs that talk about our winding roads that lead us where we are meant to be. If I had stayed where I thought I had belonged then I would (probably) never have met the love of my life.
I remember that it took about a year for this new place to feel like it could be home. In the meantime, I developed a pure unadulterated judgement of those around me. A few years later I remember telling Courtney, with complete confidence, that if she listened to country music she would go to hell because good Christians could only listen to Christian music. I saw myself as a peacemaker but would stand above those around me and haughtily inform them the proper decisions they should be making. It took counseling and Courtney’s brutal honesty for me to face that my attitude was coming from pain. The pain of leaving what I knew behind as well as the pain of “appearing” to have my life together. Courtney’s consistent and relentless and often brutal love and honesty allowed me to accept and acknowledge that it was ok. It was ok for me to be vulnerable with her and eventually with the people who surrounded us in life. It was ok and I didn’t need to judge others because I could admit to myself that I am just as messed up. It was ok to be in pain over loss, fear, and uncertainty. It was painful being honest with myself but without Courtney, I couldn’t have learned this valuable lesson. She taught me that through pain I could let go of the past and prepare for what comes next. She helped me move from a plastered on, fake smile to an authentic one. She watered the seed of acceptance and forgiveness in my heart.
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