Lost!

No, not the popular TV show. And, No, I can't really draw any parallels to it, because I have never found time in my life to actually watch the popular TV show Lost!

But I do have a "Lost!" story of my own to tell. From somewhere during high school through the time I got married, I was lost. My ship (plane, bus, train, whatever) had ended up far away from those I loved and who loved me. I chose a college that was 1,000 miles away from my childhood home because I wanted to be as far away from home as was possible and economically practical.

My Plan (listen for God's laughter now) was to be an engineer. I was going to build airplanes and spacecraft and do great things - for myself. I no longer had need for church, for God, for people to be close to, and I did not need to be needed. I professed myself an athiest. I belittled those who clung to religion and scoffed at their silliness and reliance upon blind faith.

I had come from an upper middle-class part of southern Connecticut, bedroom community to New York City, and home to a large number of Italian and other European, mostly Catholic, immigrant families. If you've read any of my previous chapters, you know about the formation of my faith foundation (or, more specifically, the lack thereof).

College in Atlanta was a blast. In 1983, the state of Georgia started raising the legal drinking age, and since I started college when I was 17, my friends and I played hopscotch with the laws for several years. Frat parties, off-campus bars, chosen friends, assigned dormitory roommates, and my selected extracurricular activities all only served to feed the hunger (and thirst - mostly thirst, come to think of it) and lust that comprised my bad habits. I am now convinced that these days, which seemed until recently, pointless and without purpose, framed my mind and soul for the man I was to become later on. For little did I know, God had planted a very special seed in my heart right smack in the middle of all of this chaos and confusion, and I was fortunate enough to realize it and to keep it.

I believe I visited the Catholic Student Union once during my college days, was dragged kicking and screaming to the Campus Wesley Foundation by a Methodist girlfriend (hint: you'll hear more on her later on) and may have darkened the door of the Baptist center once. Suffice it to say that I had no exposure to evangelical baptists during my childhood and so the whole Baptist, bible thumping, ceiling scratching, praise and worship, Campus Crusade for Christ thing really freaked me out. To make things worse, I am not a social animal. I much prefer the solitude and alone-ness of my own company to that of a large group of strangers. I am as good at "working a room" as a tall inconspicuous floor lamp.

My freshman year was the darkest, my sophomore year somewhat brighter, my 2nd sophomore year about the same, my junior year was OK and full of changes (see Methodist girlfriend reference above), my year-off hiatus was a struggle, and my senior year as a married undergraduate student marked the beginning of my recovery.

I refused to acknowledge God's role in my life. But then, something happened that I did not expect - and I didn't even realize it at the time.

The story continues . . .