What drives a person to leave a career they love? When you are working for a top level law enforcement agency and have 6 years left before mandatory retirement, why do you decide to take a walk into the office of a good boss and say “I’m done”? I put this question to Josey, because I think it will show others a lot about who he is. I could say he felt like he was restricted from doing the work he needs to be doing. Or perhaps it is because despite serving our country as an investigator, he needs to teaching others how to heal. While he is a good cop, special agent, etc., he has a gift for pulling hurting people out of the darkness of their pain. Although he is not a lover of the spotlight, when he is in front of a group of people who want to make a difference he speaks from a place of honest passion. Leaving his career was a giant step. In my opinion, it’s worth sharing why. I asked Josey to give me something I could share with others. Something in his own words. The Servant and the Yellow Tape helps to do that in a way that is all Josey.

“I stood there behind the register in that small-town grocery store waiting for the next customer.  A man I never saw before put his stuff on the counter.  A woman was behind him not dressed like anyone I had ever seen before.  The man spoke to her in a language I had never heard before.  Then the man spoke to me in English and the woman just smiled.  I figured out the man lived at some apartments up the street and was not from this small town.  The man and his wife shopped at the grocery store almost every day and soon I was a familiar face to them.  One evening he invited me to his apartment for supper.  The smell when I entered the apartment was much different than my mom’s cast iron skillet but to be honest whatever that non-English-speaking lady cooked was awesome.  Before I left the man handed me a small book of poems he had written.  The one poem that I remember to this day was a poem titled, “An Apology for his way of Life.  The man and his wife moved away, and I never asked him what the poem meant or why he felt he owed the world an apology. 

A few years later, on March 15 1990, the 16-year-old boy who read a poem found himself with his right hand held high taking an oath to serve and protect others.  The boy was now 21 years old and the path he was on may have not been the path he thought it would be.  I was following the words of my father as he told me many times when I searched for who I would be when I grew up.  I can still hear him say, “Son, go to school and get a job you love”. 

Over the years the uniform has changed more than once but the path has always remained the same.  To me at first it was an oath but soon it became a vow to simply do good.  The sacrifices ranged from sudden death, loss of sleep, health, precious moments gone but the rewards always seemed greater than the sacrifices.

As my shoes struck the pavement leading to the small church where our sons attend school it brought back that day on Parris Island when a 33-year-old man received his eagle, globe and anchor.  The day I became a Marine.  To many I was crazy to go to boot camp at my age, but I felt it was part of the plan. To be honest I felt I could do more on my path to do good.  My sons requested I wear my dress blues on this Veterans Day mass.  I originally told them I would not wear my dress blues.  I had purchased them for my Aunt Kathy when she asked me to carry her on the day, as she follows her path.   I made a last-minute decision to wear the dress blues and walked into the church.  I sat down and was joined by my youngest son and from where I was sitting, I could see my oldest son.  The boys grinned at me honoring their request.  The priest spoke and my mind drifted as it often does when I’m in church. 

My true church is in the woods.  The woods untouched by man but so blessed with God.  I heard the priest speak of people like me being a servant and oddly I never thought of myself as a servant.  Yes, I tried to do good, but I did not feel I was serving anything. I was just following my path.  My mind drifted to the place it has been for years now.  I write about it in my most current stories. It is sometimes obvious and other times it’s hidden between sentences. I feel I’m on the crossroads and I need to change my path or maybe change uniforms.  I did what dad told me to do, and I do have a job I love. But I feel restricted and like a tree in search of water and sunlight I’m not growing.  In six years, I will be at mandatory retirement time, and as of last year I can retire.  I’ve asked dad more than once “What should I do?” but he followed his path eight years ago. His monument in our back field only tells me he is not giving answers I can hear.  I’ve had Aunt Kathy’s hands hold my head as she prays over my conflicted soul and ask the Holy Spirit to guide me.  Aunt Kathy left the convent after 16 years to follow the path of marriage and children.  In her own words she was serving the lord just in a different way.  As the mass continued, I thought of you, the readers of the books, the people I have taught, and the people that have heard me speak.  I receive emails and phone calls telling me that I somehow have helped you find better days. To me, I just held the flashlight when your path got too dark.  To be honest my path has been dark for a few years now.  I’m a conflicted boy trying to honor his father’s words, a husband and father trying to provide for his family, and a son trying to make his mom proud.  How could I stop being the servant that’s inside the yellow police tape? Could I do good out there on the other side of the yellow tape.  Could I provide for my family on the other side of the yellow tape?  Will my mom be proud of me?  Will my father’s ashes rest easy knowing I left a job I love?

I did my best to hide the tears that were trying to escape from my eyes as the priest spoke.  They were not tears of sadness from almost 30 years of being inside the yellow tape.  They were tears of a conflicted soul trying the see the path.  As the mass ended the uniform spoke to me as my shoes struck the floor.  I can remember that day on the parade deck at Parris Island.  I can remember the drill instructor placing my eagle, globe and anchor in my hand.  I can remember the day I took the oath almost 30 years ago.  I can still smell the cigarette smoke from the sheriff. 

The next few weeks I felt the path was not so dark and my soul was less conflicted.  With my finger on the computer key and my wife and son’s fingers on top of my finger, the enter button was pressed.  The press of the button sent the message that I was retiring six years before I had to.  To this day I still cannot say I felt anything in the moment.  I was scared of the unknown but confident that the path would be easy to see.

On December 31st in small town not far from where this story started, I found myself siting at a wedding reception.  I was 1000 miles away from what I now call home.  The reception was crowded and anybody that knows me knows I’m not big on crowds.  I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and it was Aunt Kathy.  She said, “I’m tired, will you take me home.”  I said, “I’d love to”.  As I drove her home, I told her this was my last night inside the yellow tape.  She smiled and said, “You think it’s an accident you are here with me on this night?”  She said, “That thing you call your gut is what I call the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirt and some other key players have plans for you. Just like myself a long time ago, you too must follow your path. We are all serving the lord in our own way.”

Hours later my mom, my wife, our sons, and the magic man (our dog) saw the new year come in and I felt the yellow tape cross over my head and shoulders.  The night was cold, and I stood outside the small county hotel and looked to the clear sky.  I wondered what my guys (coworkers) were doing.  Did they need me?   Were they mad I left them?  I thought back to that poem and I get it now.  It’s hard to do it all.  It’s hard to balance it all out.  It’s hard to follow your path, be a husband, a son, a father, a friend, a worker, and at the same time feel you are doing good.  I get the apology and why the man would write such a piece.

It’s been weeks since the enter button was pressed and the reality is sinking in but it is not bad.  I’m back behind the keyboard and the stories are piling up to be written.  I can see now my path has pretty much been the same since I was a kid.  Am I still scared?  Yes, I am, but I have faith in life.  I had to realize in order to take the next step in helping others, I had to cross out of the yellow tape and be free to dedicate more time to writing and teaching.  I tell my boys that at age 51 I still have no clue who I want to be, but I know what I do not want to be.  I know that helping others see their own path just feels really good.  It’s not as simple as the job I loved, but simple was never something I did very well anyway. — Josey Visnovske