I posted a Tweet that I was "off to the opening of the Dutch Town development, a home for the homeless. Not a shelter. Shelters are not the answer!" A home is.
The brand new construction sits on five acres on the city's south side and is beautiful. Hundreds of people showed up for the opening. The Mayor, County Commission Chair, state legislators, were present. Pastor Ricky Temple of Overcoming Faith Church delivered the invocation. The Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous (Jerry Rainy) was the Master of Ceremonies.
I sat on the second row, off to the right beside a wife who had already made up her mind to leave me for something better. The next time I would see her she'd inform me of our impending divorce.
Also unbeknownst to me was that my trusted Chief Financial Officer was misappropriating hundreds of thousands of dollars. It would be another few weeks before I found that out.
Nor did I know that members of the staff were formulating complaints against me primarily because I was making significant changes to the way the company was running.
A behavioral health collaborative I'd been instrumental in starting had begun to unravel because people were resistant to change, entrenched in politics and greedy to keep things the same. It would soon blow up and be front page news leaving me the bearer of the blame.
I didn't know any of these things sitting there proud of the million dollar development. It was the latest, and last, in a series of grand developments we'd orchestrated. A million dollar hospital for homeless and poor people, a behavioral health center costing the same and now Dutch Town.
I was riding high.
So when all of these things happened in pretty quick succession, my fall was far and fast.
When the air cleared, I walked away from it all. Truth be told, lots of people wanted me to, praying for it and doing anything they could to make it so. At the end, the door slammed shut behind me.
If you've never spent time wandering in the wilderness, it's quite the experience. I bounced between Tybee Island and St. Martin, maintained relationships with a very small group of friends, did some work throughout the country with the International Street Medicine Institute but mostly spent time hurt and wounded on the beloved back deck of my house.
The world I'd happily lived in was no more and I was overwhelmed by the loss.Today I can still feel some of the feelings. The sudden loss of love, the brutal act of betrayal and the abandonment of people you believed in are things you never completely get over. All of the scars are on the inside.
I got through it though. Actually a lot of little things that got me through it. A tiny collection of friends formed themselves into my personal church, believing in me when I no longer believed in myself. They strung together little acts of kindness and my healing began to happen. I am forever indebted to them.
Looking at it today in the rear view mirror, I'm proud of it all. Great things are never accomplished without controversy. Some grow to hate if you're more successful than them. Though there is only the slightest tinge of regret, I can't think of much I would have done differently. I gave it all my best.
Today my eyes are ahead, no longer looking back. "It's time to create new things," I used to tell people I worked with, "so go! Create!"
If anyone cares, that's what I've been doing. New love has been born. My family is bigger than it was.The routines are all different. It's a slower life though no less intense. I've held on to places and things I love but they're all different now too. I'm not the same. I've been reborn.
"No one puts new wine in old wine skins ... new wine calls for new" ... things. I'm focused on creating new things, a new me, a better one because "old things are passed away, behold, all things become new."
I like new.
