I went to seminary in Berkeley California. Did my pastoral internship in paradise California. My cross cultural experience as they called it in the Navajo nation in rock point Arizona. I completed my clinical pastoral education at at Mark’s hospital in Salt Lake City utah.

After four years I graduated with a masters in divinity, an mdiv and no call. The lierrhan church was not interested in me or my attitude. That is a story for another time

Midland senior year. Common area. A professor I took classes from in New Testament Greek and logic tells me there is a representative from his seminary on campus.

A couple years ago my sophomore year I thought about the ministry but never seriously. My dad was a Lutheran minister. Church was always there. I more or less went. Habit more than passion.

I was 22. A senior in college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. Seminary was four more years of school. Better than nothing. I signed up

My dad was excited. I was going to be his legacy. He spent the summer making me go up in his study for hours reading books. I resented him for it. But something happened during that time.

I became confident. Confeodnet that I was the best seminarian. That how I looked at life, theology, ministry was best. My dad always seemed right. He was always respected. I had a floating arrongance I embraced.

I wish I could find a narrative I liked. It is hard to get excited playing the role of a 48 soon to be 49 year old man. Not many great options

My best isn’t good enough. I have tried and failed. But I can’t give up. I don’t know what surrender looks like. I don’t know how to rearrange my life and do something else. Ibiilt this life in California on the notion I was or would grow to be a strong hospice executive.

Fuck at this rate I am going to have 15 jobs in fifteen years. The nimbers are staggering

I feel like I am getting my narrative back. That I am owning me again. I long for rebirth. I love Dana point but I need a new perspective

I lost my virginity when I was 18. Or the first time I had sexual intercourse with a woman was 18. I was a senior in high school. She was a class mate and a co worker. We were doing dishes in the back of a pizza parlor. talking about sex. We were friends and I asked her how she thought I would be. She offered to find out.

I had a couple girlfriends in high school but no sex. In college I had my first girlfriend that we regularly had sex.

I had another girlfriend in seminary before I met my wife. All told there were a handful of other women that didn’t amount to much. A couple one nighters, Some petting, groping oral sex

Am I a resourceful survivor doing what it takes? or am I a fail clown beating his head against the wall?

I am the bad guy in this story. You will not think highly of me when you are finished. You will sympathize with the people I hurt and bemoan the way I acted. I dully acknowledge I am embarrassed and apologize to the people I hurt. Most notably my wife who put up with more than she should. The husband of the woman I love. I apologize to everyone this story will shock came from me. The people that will be uncomfortable by my behavior and revelations.

It is not so much that it ended. Logically I accept that. It is waking up every day anew having to relive the emotional trauma that my best days are behind me. That I had my moment, my glory. I die a thousand times. I feel the loss of her leaving and closing the curtain on that moment. I am tired of dying inside every day.

I simultaneously want to recapture that glory and hope to god I never do. I live in turmoil because that means the moment exists in someway. The torture is proof it was uniquely singular and powerful. Not just in my life but the world.

I live only in the hopes that I see her one last time and die in her arms

I covered the pan handle northern utah. An unaffiliated hospice chaplain from wyoming that got ran off from the Lutheran church making sure the spiritual needs of predominantly Mormon people were met. My territory was officially Davis, Weber and box elder counties. At times I helped cover cache, heber, summit and salt lake. I estimate in my time as a chaplain I helped over 2000 patients and families at the end of life.

I visited before they died on death calls, in homes and hospitals. Nursing abilities assisted livings. In the best neighborhood and the worst. In trailers with no heat.

I felt alive. I was in love and death was always near by reminding me it was always possible. I had purpose battling a mortal enemy

I took pride I. Telling people what I did and who I was. I guest preached at churches and taught about hospice. I was fully proud and realized

The book I poured over and read during my happy time was graham greenes the power and the glory. I guess in a lot of ways I lived the story. I related to the priest

I read it so much I know it by heart. Not much that will surprise me. Not sure why I brought this up

Am I seeking salvation?