“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

James 4:14, New International Version

My favorite country music artist is Brad Paisley. He writes some of the most clever songs, both heartfelt and hilarious, and is one of (if not) the best guitar players alive today. In 2009 he released a single called “Letter to Me”. It was written from Brad to himself, as the title states. The older Brad was trying to let the younger Brad know that everything he was going through was worth it, and would turn out okay.

More often than I care to admit I have conversations with myself, my own audible “letters to me”, trying to convince myself that everything will be okay. Lately those letters have started with the first half of the verse above. If I were to write an actual letter, it may go something like this …

January 3, 2010

Hey Joe, it's me … Joe. That's right, yourself is writing you a letter. Don't waste too much time getting hung up on the how's or why's, just trust me, it's me … or you.

So that last 19 months have been something else eh? Actually the past 13 or 14 years have been pretty interesting. That first surgery you'll have on your back … don't sweat it … you'll be back to work within three weeks, and back to playing basketball within four weeks. Life will keep on clicking like a Swiss watch for seven years after that until surgery number two. Like the first one though, you'll be back on your feet in no time.

The job offer you'll get in October of 2000 … take it. You'll learn a lot, meet some great people, and earn a pretty good living too. Plus you'll get to start playing basketball on a nice wooden floor in the gym next door to your new office. That will do wonders for your back. Well, at least until you have surgery number three. That will be one to remember. Not the surgery itself necessarily, but the events leading up to it. You'll be in Durand that day for a meeting, but you won't be able to get back into your car. Eventually you'll man up, get in your car, and start driving back to Lansing. You'll stop halfway though, because you'll be screaming and writhing in pain for 20 minutes, which eventually will wear you out. A friend of yours, Sam, will meet your wife out where you're parked to help get you to the hospital. You'll have your third surgery three days later after being doped up on Dilauded for all of those three days. You'll like that stuff, though eventually you'll develop an allergy to it.

Around this time you'll get an opportunity to work in Tennessee on an amazing development project. You'll travel to Nashville three or four times to work the deal out, all the while falling in love with Music City USA. Don't get too worked up though … that deal will fall through.

About this time you'll start noticing some changes in your life. By this time you've had to give up playing basketball, your one true exercise love. You'll give away your golf clubs and related stuff. You'll sell your downhill skis, and pretty much quit doing everything you love. The “stuff” you're noticing persists, and you still won't know exactly what it is, but eventually you'll get diagnosed with Adult Attention Deficit Disorder and depression. That will rock your world to say the least. Thankfully you'll have a wonderful wife, a supportive family, and a few good friends to help you through it. It won't be easy though, and you'll continue to battle it for … well … quite a while.  You'll also teach yourself to play the guitar, which will do more for you than you'll know at the time.  When you feel like quitting, or that you're not good enough, don't quit.  You'll end up touching a lot of people over the years.

If that wasn't good enough, on May 19, 2010 you'll have a fourth back surgery. This time it's one of the big ones … you'll have your L4-L5-S1 vertebrae fused together. That's a procedure that you will not be ready for. And the healing process … oh, brother, let me tell you. You'll be home for three months, continuing to move even further toward nuts.

After you heal up, you'll go back to work. You remember that place you hired into 8 ½ years prior? Yup, that's the one. You'll find out that when you return to work you've got a target on your back. And why? Because clients like you, and you've done a good job for them, and it's intimidating to some you work with. You'll even be told that you can't ask questions in staff meetings anymore. And why? Because you're the only one who has the guts to ask what everyone else is thinking.

Six months later … guess what? You guessed it … surgery number five! This time you'll get the L4-L3 level fused. Another doosey. The crazy thing is that you won't even be healed from your fourth surgery yet. Another three months off work, another three months of way too much time on your hands, and another chapter in the roller coaster ride that your depression takes you on. Three months later when you go back to work, you'll be there three days before you get laid off. Surprise!

You'll learn that you have no idea what tomorrow will bring. You can plan and prepare all you want, but there are just some things you can't control. Bad things happen to good people. The rain falls on the just and the unjust. And 'stuff' happens. There is good news though … this life is but a mist … a blip on the radar … and when it's over, you'll be whole, healthy, and of sound mind, hanging out in Heaven with Jesus. Hang in there kid.

Sincerely,

Joe

Ever have a bad month, or a bad year, or a bad several years? Write down the 'bad' some time, then compare it to God. It will still be bad, but God's shadow will cause it to fade, and maybe … just maybe … one day it'll be gone from sight. It won't be easy … it'll be a fight like none other, but know that I'll be fighting too. God bless.