I moved to Boston after completing my studies at Washington State University. It was a quick and impulsive move to accept the first job I was offered—three days from job offer to my showing up at the office in downtown Boston in early October 2001. I didn’t know anyone in Boston and had never visited before.

Working long hours and seeking friendships, I walked home from work to my studio apartment at around 10:00pm. I had no car and was not yet comfortable with the subway system. The walk took about 30 minutes. Winter was setting in over Boston and the once enjoyable Fall walk was turning tedious. However this walk was different. Out of a church poured a group in their 20's. I was passively looking for a church and seeking friendships with people of like values. Looking up on Park Street Church’s website I found out this group met weekly and welcomed newcomers. I decided to drop-in the next week.

Within a couple of months, I was connected with a dozen people of like faith, similar career stage, and similar ages. Surprisingly, many had also recently moved to Boston for their first jobs or to further their studies. This group got together three or four nights a week to socialize. After 6-years in Boston this group was invested in each others lives, we were holding consistent Bible study together, several of us got married, and at the tail-end kids were being added to the group.

From this group I met my late-wife, Bridget. We were married about 2-years later, bought a loft in Boston and started a family. As our priorities shifted from socializing with each other to raising our daughter, we decided to move to Portland, Oregon.

Portland is my hometown and the job I landed in Portland allowed Bridget to stay home with our daughter and for us to get a larger home. A year later my wife was pregnant. This first year in Portland was busy and unsettled. After several years of focusing solely on our relationship with God and with each other, Bridget and I were focused on raising a then one-year old Grace. We also were finding a house, buying the house, selling our condo in Boston, acclimating to a new job, Bridget was acclimating to being a stay-at-home mom, finding friends, finding a church. We were busy!

We were busy, but we accomplished a lot in that first year and were finally starting to shift into a new phase in Portland. We had started building a small community to fellowship with and to mutually support. We had settled into a new church, we commented to each other weekly about how blessed were were with our love for one another, our daughter, our house—things were picking up.

We had finally resolved our list of items associated with the move, Bridget was 4-months pregnant and tired, and then Bridget was diagnosed with cancer. We were trying to survive both literally and figuratively.

During the three months when we knew Bridget had cancer and before she died, Bridget gave birth to our second daughter, Chloe. Chloe was born three months early and weighted only 18 ounces. She was incredibly tiny, unbelievably fragile, and exceedingly determined to live. For the weeks after Chloe’s birth and before Bridget’s death, I was overseeing the house and ensuring Grace was well taken care of by family, working intermittently, trying to be alongside Bridget as often as I could, and visiting Chloe daily to view her progress and hold her when it was permitted.

Following Bridget’s death, I was 100% focused on raising Grace and the newly born Chloe. Those with little kids know, it is a full time job for a couple…and was more so for me as an only parent who also was working full time. I look back at the three nightly feedings I would wake up for. In preparation for the day following those times at night with Chloe, I would drink Pepsi after Pepsi—something I rarely drank beforehand—just to stay awake. I comforted myself with huge bowls of ice cream nightly.

I remember pausing 6 years into my life in Oregon and I could only identify one person, my girlfriend at the time, that knew well my walk with Christ. And, she would likely tell you it wasn’t bad, but wasn’t what it should be! My former girlfriend and I had such limited time together that we, in error, spent our time enjoying our friendship and love and didn’t dedicate ourselves to mutual fellowship with Christians.

Now, I look back 7 years into my life in Oregon and I am with my girls, have no girlfriend or prospects, and am focused on two things: (1) building a stronger relationship with Jesus and (2) building more and more deeper relationships with Christian friends.

What caused this? I think it was earthly survival. I leaned on God during much of this time for hope and perseverance, but I didn’t nurture the relationship with Him. Like a child in crisis takes from his father all the support possible; I took from God. I was living in a smokey haze unable to get all my bearings. So, I called to him only for my needs; I became even more of a taker. Now, it is time to pour into my Father out of love and appreciation for sustaining me and my girls.

What is the effect? I think the effect of not nurturing the relationship with Christ and with those that believe in Him is an atrophy, a distance, and a disconnectedness from the rhythm and routine of a healthy and strong relationship with Christ. In Boston I was on fire for the Lord and I related to Him in most everything I did. That flame grew faint through my trials. That lack of fire bleeds into other aspects of life. It bleeds into inter-personal relationships, into my priorities with work and my girls, with my patience, and with my hope. It also amplifies my shame, my need for grace, and fear of being vulnerable, and my depression.

I am turning back. I am turning back to the One that never turned or never will turn His back on me. (Deuteronomy 31:6)