You know, when you say goodbye to someone and have the big hug and the inevitable, “Call me”, or “Let’s keep in touch”… I stink at that. I always have.

I don’t really know what it is about me that struggles to keep in touch. Maybe it’s the “in touch” part. If I cant touch you, or see you, or occasionally run into you at Blockbuster, then I guess I don’t call you.

I know this is sounding harsh, but I have a real problem with this. Just yesterday, a friend of mine from high school and college and even post college (in fact we were in each other’s weddings and I even went out with his sister a few times) called me and we chatted for awhile. Thankfully he didn’t ask why I haven’t stayed “in touch” with him, being that we haven’t spoken since my wedding day in June of 2000. It wasn’t a falling out, or some vehement disagreement. He moved to North Carolina, and I didn’t. We both became pastors in different parts of the country. No worries. No hard feelings. He just wants to come by and hang out next week on his way through Michigan.

Why is it that no matter how close a friend is to me, when I move away I struggle to stay close? I know the obvious answer is geography. Then the always popular, “busy” excuse. But I think it’s more than that. Maybe I can retrace my steps to see what may have gone wrong in me. Maybe we can discover the culprit of my problem.

Potential culprit #1 – School.
I have a really odd track record in school. It all began with nursery school. It was in somebody’s basement and the teacher served those S-shaped Stella D’oro cookies and Juicy Juice. Then I started sneezing. I had to dropout of nursery school because they had cats.

Kindgergarten – My parents enrolled me in Blairstown Elementary School for my first official year of school. No half day shenanigans for me. Full day baby! I went from playing with blocks and Tonka trucks to logging 30 hours a week in a classroom. Anyway… I was a bit of a problem child in that classroom… It was kindergarten, so they hadn’t yet figured out the different levels of aptitude in the class yet. I was a fairly bright young boy, so I would finish our assignments quickly. As I waited for the other students to struggle to color within the lines, I would invariably get a little mischievous. I would often be led to stand in the hallway by myself, or sit in a corner for awhile, or any other number of public humiliations. Even in the midst of my shenanigans, I was building a small empire of followers for my little revolts. The paint scraping incident during naptime. The Great Pea Stomp in the Lunchroom of ’81. Me and my fellow miscreants were heading toward a long life of trouble and triumph when abruptly, my parents started their own Christian school in our town. As I left my B’town Elementary days behind me, good ‘ol Ms. Widmeyer told my next administration that I was “the worst behaved student in her 27 years as a public school kindergarten teacher”.

What an honor.
At the start of 2nd grade, I was getting into my usual ways with one of the girls in my class when my teacher instructed me very sternly to get my soccer ball and my lunchbox and come with her. This was a whole new level of trouble for me – these were my only two individual possessions! She walked me across the hall, opened a door and told me to walk in. So there I stood, 7 years old, in front of dozens of older kids all staring at me. Finally, the class was told that I was joining them all in 3rd grade! I skipped a grade? Nice!!! Once again, I had to say goodbye to my good buddies back in 2nd grade…

After this year I left the school that my parents helped start (apparently it became a hotbed for those that were kicked out of public schools), and started at another school called Faith Christian School. No more grade skipping, just 4th – 9th grade building friendships and relationships that I thought would be around forever.

We moved. I changed schools at the beginning of my sophomore year. I started attending a school where I was scolded for reading from my NIV Bible in Bible class. I had never heard that the King James was the only “inspired” text that existed. I also had to start wearing a tie every day to school. Me and my buddy Jason were the only two guys in my class and possibly the entire high school that didn’t wear a skinny black leather tie and cowboy boots to school everyday. I didn’t like that school.

I changed schools again halfway through my Junior year, citing spiritual reasons (who would have guessed that a Christian school would struggle with apathy?). It was a little awkward to transfer mid-Basketball season when I was the Captain of the Varsity team and joined the team of a rival and played them that season.

Each transfer. Each dropout. Grade skip. I was leaving someone behind. Sometimes several close friends. We left the church that I had been a part of since I was 4 years old when I was nearly 15. My parents say it was because they wanted to move to a lake, which was of course nice and a great spot to have parties with our giant boat and hot tub. But I think we left that church because the youth pastor that I idolized and my parents adored had an affair with a youth leader and broke our collective heart.

After college, I was tuxedoed in 13 weddings, all friends but one (sister’s wedding). Of those thirteen, I keep in touch with 2.

Potential Culprit #2 – 9/11

Not really, but it’s blamed for everything else – so it has to be considered…

Potential Culprit #3 – Music

One afternoon in fifth grade, while enjoying recess, a rare occasion with my teacher that year that kept on dishing out huge loads of homework and denying us recess all while promising how he was preparing us for high school - I have never had that much homework in my life. Not in high school. College. Or even grad school. Anyway – I was pulled out of a nail biting game of kickball to go take a “singing test” in the cafeteria. I hummed a few notes in tune and filled out a form. All my buddies were laughing at how they purposely sang out of tune – I suddenly felt silly for doing it right.

A few days later my parents were called by the Singing Boys of Pennsylvania, which was apparently a mildly famous choir of little boys that sang really high and wore robes and sang for old people. They had a record deal at the time, which the recruiter was sure to mention several times during the second audition. I made the group and quickly ascended through the minor league choirs up to the “1st Advanced”, which was The Show. The Big Leagues. The traveling choir. I was a First Soprano. I could really belt out the high notes. One of their veteran sopranos voice was about to change, so they called me up. I had left behind all of my buddies that joined when I did, having been promoted faster than they were. So I found myself once again, standing in the front of the class with my soccer ball and lunchbox, being told that I was skipping some levels, leaving friends behind.

It was odd for me when just after turning 9 years old I was signing autographs for girls that were older than I was. I met Tutti from the Facts of Life and Willis from Diff’rent Strokes at some International Kids Festival in Washington DC. I remember being disappointed that my true love of the time, Punky Brewster, had to cancel her appearance because she was sick. I quit that group after I finally got up the nerve to tell my parents that the Director was hitting me and others.

When I was fifteen year old, I ditched my best friend and bailed on my favorite basketball camp in favor of a 5 week journey across America with a singing group uniquely called “The American Christian Youth Chorale”. I had some experience in touring choirs, but hadn’t uttered a note in public in years (I was in the throes of the Too Cool to Sing Phase in my early teen years). Somehow, my parents coerced me to make an audition tape (I sang How Great Thou Art about 50 times in my sister’s room until the recording met with my suddenly high vocal standards) and filled out the ridiculously long application. Ironically, the application had an entire section devoted to allergies and health concerns, in which I carefully documented my extensive list of allergies – only to be assigned to host homes nearly every night that had cats.

During this life-changing trip, we performed approximately 85 concerts in 33 days… It was crazy… But I did forge some amazing friendships, and even swept one particular girl off her feet. She was soon to be 18 and I had just turned 15 – so I was feeling pretty good about the accomplisment. Amidst the hugs and tears, the sobs and the smooches, delusions of relational grandeur were being tossed my way by many in our 30 member troupe… Sadly, not one endured… Not even the philly that stole my heart for a few weeks in the summer of ’91.

Potential Culprit #4 – I am a die hard, lifelong, New York Yankees Fan.
People really hate that about me.

Potential Culprit #5 – Churches

I started working with the Student Ministry in my second home church, Heritage Baptist (attended from 16 until I was 25) and really fell in love with those kids. We saw amazing growth in the group itself and in the lives of the teens. I really felt a strong call from God to pursue ministry fulltime, so when the pastor approached us about the possibility we were very excited. What followed next was a harrowing tale of heartbreak and disappointment, a discouraging vote (enough to have a job – not enough to want it), and a move to Minnesota to work as a Student Ministries Pastor. We left behind many close friends to move to the Midwest, and once again, I didn’t “stay in touch” with more than 1 or 2.

There’s an old song that says “When you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.” When you don’t have an answer to the question of where your home is, you make home where you find yourself right now.

At the end of five great years in Minnesota, we moved out to Michigan last October to begin a new ministry to Young Adults at Woodside Bible Church in Troy, MI. We are now in the process of pouring our hearts and souls into building relationships here. We have made amazing friendships and plan on being here for a very long time. We have kept in pretty good touch with some of our Minnesota friends – but not very many.

I’m not sure if I’ve gotten so used to starting over in my life, if I’ve viewed each new place/school/group as a new chapter, with the old one forever closed.

Maybe Facebook will help me with this… I have reconnected with some old friends using this social networking tool, and it hasn’t been as awkward as I expected it to be.

Potential Culprit #6 – I hate forwarded emails.

When the subject line starts with FW: - I get really mad and delete it. I even typed UNSUBSCRIBE in the Subject line of an email to a notorious email forwarder in my church. I never heard from them again.

Potential Culprit #7 – College Summer Ministry Teams

For two summers during my infamous stint at Baptist Bible College, I was a member and then a leader of Summer Ministry Teams. We traveled for 8 weeks or so to camps and churches to preach, lead worship (it was called Leading Singing back then), counsel, recruit, lead games, and whatever else was needed. Each week we would invest in the lives of kids from great families and devastatingly broken ones, and we would become connected to them – only to drive away on Saturday morning after the big photo press conference with flash bulbs blazing. Those first few miles on the road someone would cue up the song “Would you love Jesus more?” by 90’s Christian SuperGroup Philips Craig and Dean and we would all weep like little school girls as the faces of those we left behind would flood us with memories. I did that 16 times over the 2 summers. I wonder what happened to those kids that came to Christ? Those kids that rededicated their lives? Those kids that were returning to abusive fathers?

Culprit #8 – Life

Maybe I’m making too big a deal of this. Maybe everyone does this. Maybe journeying through my past was a waste of keystrokes and your time. If it was – I’m sorry.

Maybe this is just life.

Making connections and losing them.

Falling in love, and breaking a heart.

Promising a call, and never ever doing it.

I confess this today because I want to change it. I miss you Chris. Jason. Manny. Ben. Jamie. Steve. Jon. Karen. Laura. Tara. Steve. Woody. Gus. Maybe even Varnish.

I don’t to view my life as a series of short stories, but as a sweeping novel. Not as a collection of short films – but as an epic. All of you had a role to play in making me who I am, and I thank God for all of you. I am excited as Angela and I make new friends and family here in Michigan to see what adventures lie before us and what memories we will share.

Home to me is being with my beloved in the place that my Beloved has placed us.