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Weary Traveler
Weary Traveler
When I was growing up, I do not remember being one of those kids who constantly asks "are we there yet?" You know the one…that kid who never shuts up in the back seat all the way from Point A to Point B? Fortunately for my wife and me, our son has never been one either. Perhaps that was due to the fact that my family never really took many long trips. When I was growing up, we rarely if ever took long vacations. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times that we ever went on a grand, epic vacation. That is not to say that we didn't go off and have adventures; we did have adventures, they were just usually the type that took place within close vicinity to my house and most often within a few hours to a day’s traveling distance from home.
In fact, I believe the furthest we ever traveled on a regular basis was to visit either of my grandparents, both of whom lived about an hour and a half away from us. Trips to Jackson, MS were a treat that we looked forward to. And as a small kid from a small town in the rural South, getting to go to the "big" city was always an awesome and eye-popping experience for me. I can remember going to shop at the Metro Center Mall or the Northpark Mall in Jackson and being overwhelmed by the sheer number of stores to walk and peruse through. I suppose it really is true when they say that the things that seem "magical and captivating" when you are a child suddenly lose their mysterious allure as an adult. Nowadays, I can go to any major city in my travels and I no longer see anything magical about the experience; rather, I find the experience of traveling through a city quite claustrophobic and indeed capable of inducing a panic attack. But as a child, I had never had the opportunity to venture into any major city except for Memphis, TN, so the great metropolis of Jackson, MS never failed to excite me.
When I was a sophomore in college, my dad's job transferred him to the Monroe, LA area and my parents and I arrived at the mutual decision that I would remain behind, alone, in Hattiesburg, MS. Since I was already well into my studies at Jones College and then later at the University of Southern Mississippi, they felt it was best if I stayed there and continued my education. It was the first time that I had ever truly been left on my own. It was quite an adjustment, and since the distance between Monroe and Hattiesburg was considerable, I did not make the trip back to my parent's new home very often. I did, however, semi-frequently go to my grandmother's house in Crystal Springs, MS on the weekends to partake of a home-cooked meal on occasion. Of course, I was heavily involved in my life in Hattiesburg, so even those trips were not as frequent as they should have been. I remember traveling back and forth between Hattiesburg and Crystal Springs, and at other times between Hattiesburg and Monroe and actually enjoying the drive. It held a grand sense of adventure for me, and even though I knew what my ultimate destination was going to be, I enjoyed the time alone as I watched the scenery fly by outside the window of my trusty old Dodge car.
All of these trips that I took in college (as well as a trip to New Orleans with my roommate and my friends) helped to prepare me for the long, long journey that I would make right out of college. Right out of college, I accepted a job which led to me working in the accounting department for the largest store on the south rim of the Grand Canyon National Park. Right after graduation, I loaded up my clattering old Dodge car (complete with a small tiny U-Haul trailer in tow) and set off on a multi-thousand-mile journey. Over the course of the next two years during my time in Arizona, I would make that trip back and forth to Mississippi several times. It was quite the journey, and I relished those times with nothing but the open road ahead of me, an audiobook on cassette playing in my cassette player, and the steady hum of the car tires beneath my seat. I never found myself lonely on those trips or even ready for the trip to be over; no, I truly enjoyed those times to myself in the adventure that it presented.
Once I moved back to Mississippi, I got married and started my new journey as a married man. Now, road trips consisted of many, many trips back and forth to the Carolinas to visit my in-laws, trips to Texas to visit my brother, and trips to Florida to visit other relatives. With my wife by my side, trips were more enjoyable and we shared much laughter and good times on the road together. We had eight years together, just she and I, before my son joined us and our lives were forever changed.
Once we had a kid, road trips became a little more complicated. Suddenly, the amount of luggage and kid paraphernalia that we had to carry with us increased exponentially. But as I mentioned earlier, my son has fortunately been a great traveler ever since he came to us at 15 months old. These days, he is content to play a video game in the backseat or perhaps read a book as he passes the miles away. Only in the last year or so, as an eight-year-old, has he started asking the dreaded question: "Are we there yet?" My son is incredibly smart, so it is funny to watch his analytical brain process the amount of distance we have already covered and compare it with the distance we have left to cover.
As a middle-aged adult, solo road trips no longer hold the allure that they once did. Fortunately, I rarely, if ever, have the occasion where I must make a solo road trip. I remember one occasion from a few years ago, when my best friend from high school and college was facing brain surgery in Nashville, TN at Vanderbilt University Hospital. Unknownst to him, I plotted with his wife to make the trip up to Nashville and surprise him on the eve of his surgery, then spend the night with them and be there with him and pray for him right before he went into surgery the next morning. I remember thinking that the trip to Nashville was not all that bad; it was just a very long trip. However, the next day I had to turn right around and rush back home after they took him into surgery because I had to be back in Clinton for something going on that night. It was the longest, most excruciating trip ever. I remember being so disconnected from everything on that trip. I don't even think I turned the radio on, but I did spend a lot of time (from time to time) praying to God. When I got back to Clinton that afternoon, Stephen was really weary and had discovered that he did not like solo trips as an adult one bit.
Last year, my nephew accepted Christ at his church in Odessa, Texas, and my family drove out to Odessa (a 12-hour journey) to spend Easter weekend with my brother and his family, as well as to attend my nephew's baptism. I don't know why, but I just have an aversion to staying in motels. It is not so much the fact that I don't like to stay in them, as it is that I just like to push myself to the point where I just can't go on anymore. I don’t like to stop; I like to continue the journey until I basically become so exhausted I can't continue on any longer. My wife does not like to drive on long trips, so I usually am stuck with the majority of the driving. In any case, we made the trip to Odessa in one day. The Monday after Easter, I had off work and my son was out of school for the holiday as well. However, my wife had to be back in town that Monday for a very important work meeting that she had to attend. My son wanted to stay one more night in Texas, so we flew my wife back to Jackson, MS that Sunday evening so that she could be back for work the next day. The next morning, my son and I started the long, long journey back to Mississippi. It was a great trip; my son and I really had a bonding time. I also put an audio Bible on the radio and we listened to Bible stories for a good portion of the 12-hour trip. It was neat to hear my son say on multiple locations "Daddy, I already know that story from Sunday School at church!" Before we even got out of West Texas, I had put my foot down nearly to the floor, and we were flying. I remember when we arrived in Vicksburg, MS later that day, it felt like we were on the home stretch even though we still had another 30 miles to cover until we reached our home in Clinton.
Stephen was a weary traveler that day. Stephen quickly found out that he hated road trips. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely cherished the time spent with my son, and that was a great day to be able to spend time in the car with him as we talked and bonded over the many miles. But it was an exhausting trip. By the time I reached back home, I was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. It was not a trip that I wanted to do again anytime soon (and nor have I).
The past few years have been a difficult journey for many people. I would dare say that there isn't one person out there who has not been affected in some way. Over the past few years, my wife and I have experienced losses of family members within our family. We experienced the loss of my son's brother in 2018. We experienced the loss of another foster child in 2019 who had to be removed after he became abusive to my son. Graduate school started in 2019 and drained me emotionally, physically, and mentally. Midway through grad school, my supervisor (whom I had a very good relationship with) experienced a mental breakdown and was forced to leave, shouldering me with her former responsibilities plus my own at work. Covid struck and removed church, Samson, small group gatherings, and friends from my life. All of this happened while I was still trying to negotiate the rocky road of graduate school and maintain my 4.0 average.
Last year, graduate school suddenly ended and Covid started easing up a bit. But I was absolutely shell-shocked. I did not know what to do with myself, my thoughts, or my feelings anymore. I did not know what to feel anymore. I did not know how to cry out to God anymore. I did not know how to be real anymore. I was absolutely weary and broken. Then last October, Ethan, a young man that I had mentored a few years back, committed suicide and selfishly took his own life. I remember experiencing the absolute shock that I felt when I got the news on that day at work, and then how I packed it up and did not do anything with it. As things came to a crashing halt over the past few weeks, I realized a lot of grief existed in all areas of my life that I had not dealt with or processed. I believe that I had already been carrying a lot of unprocessed grief, but the loss of Ethan was the nail in the coffin. Stephen had become a weary traveler. Just as your mind becomes numbed after miles and miles spent on the road, Stephen had become numb to anything and everything. Things that I once took great joy in such as writing on this blog, spending time with my family, delving into a hard project at work, reading, or even spending time with God suddenly no longer held any interest to me. Stephen had become weary. Stephen was a weary traveler. Stephen had lost his way. He had lost his map and his GPS had short-circuited and malfunctioned.
I woke up a few weeks ago and it was like I had suddenly realized that it is now 2022. I feel the heaviness of the world and I know of so many people who are struggling right now. I feel burdened by all of that, but subconsciously I know that I cannot fix it. I know of so many right now who are struggling with brokenness, and I count myself among those. I want to be real and to share these things with people, but I keep silent.
As believers, there is a hope that we possess in the fact that we know how the story ends. We know where our ultimate destination is, and while we may not know the exact route that we will take to get there, we know where we're going. We know where the road leads. Even if the GPS malfunctions or we lose our map, we know the road will eventually lead home. When I was traveling to Arizona, I thought the state of Louisiana and part of Texas had to be home to some of the most boring scenery that I had ever laid eyes on. It was not an exciting or fun part of the trip, and I was ready for my destination to arrive. But once I got into West Texas and into New Mexico, the scenery began to change and gave way to a landscape that was unlike anything this Mississippi boy had ever seen. Suddenly, my trip was fun again and my weariness gave way to the joyful anticipation of what lay before me at the end of my journey – "the majestic Grand Canyon."
Perhaps you are in a season like I am – perhaps life's journey has you going through a boring and desolate landscape as mine does right now. Perhaps you too are weary. But just keep in mind, there is a joyous day coming and the destination that we have to look forward to is more beautiful than anything the Grand Canyon could ever hope to be. I am a weary traveler, and maybe you are too. But it will get better and we just have to remember to hold on and hang on and look out for people along the journey who need us as much as we need them.
Start By Honoring His Wife. (You Have To Assume) She's Who He Sleeps With Every Night.
Married Samson guys often have wives that have been deeply hurt by their transgressions (prior to stepping foot into Samson Society). Some of these women are still married to their spouses only because there're children in the home. That combined with the hope that Samson Society can help to provide a steady road ahead for their marriage, often keeps them begrudgingly, bittersweetly committed.
When I entered Samson Society back in '14, Angie (my wife) was wholly supportive of my commitment to the community therein. So much so that she was elated to know that she would no longer be my sole "post job loss (trauma)" sounding board. As such, it wasn't long before I found guys within the Samson community that more than compensated for her generosity to (attempt) to support me - to the best of her ability - for such a horrendously difficult time as that.
For example, Angie immediately became my Covenant Eyes ally post-job loss. And this was the case because I had no other friends that I felt comfortable engaging as such.
And though she remained a CE ally for some time after I began my journey within Samson Society, she trusted wholeheartedly the other men that God brought into my life to continue therein supporting her husband. In other words, she found relief from a responsibility that she felt didn't suit her (as my wife) one iota.
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Now, my primary attraction to Angie is rooted in her trust in me. And it is a profound trust that's rooted in her willingness to be subservient. For I'm a dude who struggles with same-sex attraction and always has. Yet, she knew going into our marriage, 25 years-ago that this would be an ongoing narrative for me.
Many women would balk at this no holds barred trust approach, and I get that, but they're not Angie. Hence, my reason for not marrying anyone but her.
One thing that's unique about she and I is how long we've known each other (since our teenage years). I believe this has had a profound impact on her ability to trust me. We weren't anything other than friends in high school, but the relationship was decidedly built on mutual respect.
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I am slated to chat with my newest Silee's wife (with my Silee on the phone too) this afternoon. This man (& his spouse) live in Hotlanta, and he and I became fast friends during the 2022 Gulf Coast Samson Society retreat (photo below) from a few weekends back. After chatting with my new friend late last week (our first post-retreat, I'm now your Silas, dialogue), and hearing of the interpersonal dynamic between he and his spouse, I felt compelled to recommend to my Silee that we should kickoff our friendship by honoring her.
In the past, I've never made this move. Instead, I naively assumed that my Silees' wives were like Angie. Sorta relieved to be hands off.
But I have found - over the past eight years - that this typically wasn't / isn't the case.
Many of my Silees' wives were - and understandably so - actively looking over the shoulders of their husbands in response to the traumas that they'd endured (either directly or indirectly by his hands), and this form of self preservation began well before these men entered into Samson Society.
One of the most surprisingly creepy discoveries regarding this was how unabashedly these ladies snooped on their husbands by reading his text message exchanges (sometimes in real time), his email, etc. Many too tracked their man's whereabouts via his smartphone location. All of this sounded so fatiguing to me.
And oftentimes, I would only find out about this due to her questioning / complaining (to him) about some broached hyper-sensitive subject matter (that she'd read behind his back) that I'd brought to the forefront. For if you know me, I tend to not pull my punches when it comes to the nitty-gritty / granular.
And then there's just the overall suspicion / mistrust that I was up against relative to her wanting to maintain some semblance of control over her husband's recovery (& arguably justifiable, taking her trauma into account). As such, I found that this was her way of serving as his Recovery Nanny.
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The lesson here is that many (if not all) of the spouses of Silees need to know me - at the outset - as the Silas. They need to have an opportunity to personally vet my capability / motive in order to NOT SUDDENLY FEEL LEFT OUT. And that's what I'm going to attempt to accomplish today (please pray for this conversation).
Women want security from their men. By me (& my Silee) being respectful of that need, we can certainly take the time to show my Silees' wives we truly care / have her husband's best interests at heart.
And then from there, we'll see how things go, knowing that I've attempted to not discount her role as his wife (having known him far longer than I have).
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