I sat there on the gym bleachers feeling like the ceiling has landed on me.  My catholic priest sat next to me asking what brought me to him.  I simply said, “I broke the heart of someone I loved.”  He said, “Why did you do that?”  I said, “I had so many feelings in my head, and it all was happening so fast.”  He said, “You are a sixteen-year-old kid who is still trying to figure it all out, it’s what kids are supposed to do.”  We finished high school together never saying a word to each other, and then she went on to become the woman she wanted to be. 

Several years later I located her, professed my love, and faded back to the land that consumed me.  I wanted to stay, but to be honest I knew what I was doing then would not work with a relationship, and I was still trying to figure it all out.

Several years later friends thought it would be a good idea to put us together.  I had changed both physically and emotionally.  The life I was living was a lie, but I was being paid to live that life.  My hair was long, my face was hidden, and in some respects my soul had edges that were burnt.  At my core I was the same boy from ten years ago, but the layers of life had suffocated or maybe protected that boy from the life I was pretending to live.  Some of those days in that life I do not recall, but the day we reunited is deeply etched in my memory.  She did not seem to get hung up in the hair, the beard, or my burnt edges.  She saw me as she always did.  A boy who was still trying to figure it out.  We walked through woods, and I asked her, “Hypothetically, if I asked you to marry me, would you?”  She said, “In a heartbeat.”  

A little over a year later, the scared little boy had the courage to say I do.  We stood before that same priest from my teenage years, and she placed the ring on my finger.  We rode off into the sunset on what we called a Harley honeymoon.  It was like a long-awaited dream come true, until I received the message that one of the jobs I had applied for wanted to hire me.  I recall sitting on the edge of the hotel bed explaining to the man on the phone I was on my honeymoon.  He simply said, “Do you want the job or not?”  My new bride smiled from across the room.  We rode over 1000 miles in one day on the Harley to get home.  We walked into a barber shop and in minutes, six years of hair lay on the floor.  The next day I was on a plane, and I did not see my bride again for three months.  Over the next two years I was only home for ten twenty-four-hour time periods, but she always seemed to smile.  After a few years at that job, I changed jobs and changed jobs again.  A moving truck and a moving box became part of our life.  It was over 4 years before I found the job and the place that we would call home.  It appeared I was finally settled.  In five years our first son was born and two years later our second son was born.  I have said more than once watching the love of my life become a mother made me love her even more.  Yes.  As a mother there was less time for me, but there is something magical about watching a woman become a mother. 

I struggled to navigate the path to juggle my passion for my work, and the dedication it took to be a good father.  There was less time for what I called the “bride moments” but it was mutual.  We had our moments once a year when we took our family vacations, but we were never good about taking the time to be away from the boys.  Since we had children late in life, we both agreed that we wanted to be with them because one day they will be on their own path. 

When the option came for me to retire before my mandatory date the “bride moments” were a factor that played into that decision.  I had hoped we could have more time together since our family business would keep me busy, but not as busy as my old job. 

I was once told by someone that we make plans and God laughs.  I do think there is some truth to that.  Our family business kept me very busy and the “bride moments” were not as often as I would have liked.  I volunteered our family to help some people clear a wooded lot.  For the most part I was the one who cleared the lot, working on it when I could.  One Saturday I asked my bride and the boys to help me with the job.  It was a nice day with the sun out and just cool enough that you needed a long sleeve shirt.  We could see a storm approaching from the West, so we started to rush before the rain came down on us.  There were a few remaining trees to cut down with a series of vines tangled in those remaining trees.  I stood there under the vines looking at my bride and sons when I saw something from the corner of my left eye.  The next thing I remember is laying on the ground in pain.  I tried to get up, but I kept falling down.  My bride and oldest son ran to help me, and I was able to stand but only if they helped me.  My bride who is in the medical field insisted I stay down but I kept getting up.  I said, “I am fine, but something hurts.”  They explained a large dead limb had fallen from the vines and they yelled but it was too late.  I told them I was fine to walk and the next thing I remember was waking up on my back.  My bride was holding my head and my youngest son was pumping my legs trying to get blood back to my upper body.  Our oldest son was away from us now trying to dial 911.    

I laid there, fading in and out and everything seemed to be in a fog.  My bride reached down and pulled my wedding ring off my finger.  I could see our oldest son on the phone and our youngest son had a fear in his eyes as he continued to pump my legs.  It was hard to describe the pain because it was all over.  Years ago, in the swamp I got my foot caught in a beaver trap.  The only way I got out of it was to keep fighting the urge to lay there in pain.  I told my bride I was getting up.  She said, “Please lay here the ambulance is on its way.” I said, “I’m getting up.” I was able to stand with my bride’s help and I could walk.  It did not take me long to figure out something was wrong with my left shoulder.  If I supported my left arm the pain seemed to be less.  My bride said, “It looked like the large limb hit your left shoulder.”   

I leaned up against our truck and they helped me remove the chainsaw chaps from my legs.  It appeared the only injury was to my left shoulder.  I told our boys to start packing up our equipment because the rain was almost upon us.  The youngest still had that look in his eyes but did what he was told.  The ambulance arrived and they took my vital signs which were good and clearly something was wrong with my left shoulder.  As the paramedics asked me questions to determine if I was with the program, I told them the president was Ronald Reagan.  I had learned from my father, a man who knew about pain, to always have your humor.  The paramedics were young enough to be my kids, but they replied to my statement by saying they wished Reagan were still the president.  We opted to drive ourselves to the emergency room.  We told the boys to drive the truck home and we would take Momma’s Jeep to the emergency room.  As we pulled away, I could see the tears in the youngest boy’s eyes.  It was painful to get out of the Jeep, but I did.  I walked up to the truck and told him, “I’m fine.” He said, “Daddy, I thought it hit your head?” I said, “No just my shoulder and I will be fine.  I’m pretty sure it’s broke but it will heal.  I need you to go with your brother and be strong,” With tears in his eyes he said, “Yes sir.”

The ride to the emergency room was not long but the time seemed to stand still.  My head spun with what was wrong.  I worried about our boys.  I worried about my bride.  She is always calm but still waters run deep.  I refused the wheelchair and walked into the examination room.  There was some half bed, half table, and part chair they wanted me to sit on.  I chose to sit in a normal person chair.  My bride sat on the hybrid thing that looked like something from the Jetsons.  We were left alone and that’s when the still waters started to move.  My bride leaned forward, put her hands in her face and started to cry.  She said, “I cannot stand to see you in pain.” I said, “You love me?” She replied, “Well of course I love you, why would you ask that?” I said, “It cannot be easy being married to me.  Being married to me is like a crazy roller coaster ride in the dark.” By now she had stopped crying and the still waters were back.  She said, “What attracted me to you from the get-go was your ambition.  You are not a dreamer but ambitious.  Your ambition has proven to bite me in the ass but it’s that drive that makes me love you.” In 36 years of loving her I never knew that.  We sat there in that dimly lit room with that hospital smell and to me we just were married again.  My pain was less, and my bride never looked so beautiful.  

Our moment was interrupted by the doctor who informed us my collar bone was broken and I would need to see a surgeon on Monday. 

A nurse put a sling on my left arm and the doctor offered pain meds.  I told him I would not take them; pain is part of living.

Our boys were happy to see that I was ok.  Our not so puppy sniffed my body like she knew I was hurt.  I slept in the chair that only comforts me when something is recovering.  My bride slept on the sofa like the woman bitten by a man with ambition.  The next day my ambitious self-told my bride I promised a customer I would work today.  With a very still-water look she said, “Then I will be your left arm today.” To some, on the outside of our fish bowel this was crazy, but I enjoyed spending the day with my bride.  

I’m 20 feet up today in a bow stand just a few days before Christmas.  It’s been almost a year since I learned about deadly tree limbs, love, and ambition.  At the end of the month, it will have been 3 years since I retired.  I retired from a 30-year job some would consider dangerous.  For most of us, we retire to spend more time with family.  To cash in those remaining years to be closer to the ones that supported our years full of ambition.  As I type these words to you, I look down at the ground and recall the ground the day my bride held my head and removed my ring.  I recall the thought that raced through my head as I laid there.  To this day I have not shared that thought with anyone until now.  The thought is what I call The Retirement Effect.  I knew a man once who retired and died the next day.  He had plans with his wife, his daughters, and his grand kids.  He retired at our mandatory age of fifty-seven.  So, when I went early at fifty-one, I thought I might be ok.  As I lay there in all that pain and confusion, the Retirement Effect raced through my soul.  My whole 53 years of living were piled on my chest.  No matter how many times I have had the hell knocked out of me I always got up, but not this time.  Did I live those 30 years to go out like this?  My bride never asked why I fought so hard to get up, but it was simply the Retirement Effect.  

Last year at Christmas I wrote a blog in another tree across the farm.  It was titled “Where is the Jesus in that.” At the time I thought it was not the best, but currently it’s now been read over 164K times.  Clearly some people got the message.  When I laid there on the ground the Retirement Effect ran through me, but from a place of fear, not love.  I feared it was the end of my time here.  I was going to miss those moments I had planned for.  I was going to miss out on those bride moments.  My ambition consumed the time that should have been spent with my bride.  But that night in that emergency room I learned that love and ambition go hand in hand.  My bride loved me because I was that ambitious man.  From that point forward the Retirement Effect came from a place of love, not fear.

 If I had a Christmas wish or a shooting star to cast my wish upon it would be that more people embrace life.   If people would smile more, love more, embrace the not so perfect moments in life, and realize tomorrow is not guaranteed.  We would live in a place of love and not fear.  We would accept the large limbs of life even when they knock the hell out of us; or take us before what we feel was our time. 

My collarbone is healed now, and my wedding ring has not left my finger.  The large oak limb hangs in one of our buildings as a reminder of love and ambition, not out of fear.  I tell my bride all the time that I would break my collarbone again to learn about her love of this ambitious man and for her to be my left arm for a day.  

It’s a cool day here with no sun, but it’s bright.  It’s bright because our boys are in their own trees this morning.  It’s bright because my bride is at work doing what she does best, caring for others.  It’s bright because even though at 54 years old I’m still that little boy trying to figure it all out.  It’s bright because the Retirement Effect flows through my soul.  It’s bright because I have faith, love, and hope that the world can be more united if we embrace its uncertainty.  

From The Roadmap Company, we wish you a Merry Christmas.