A Secret Mission

No shit, there I stood, buck ass naked in the battle of Thisdum Lai.

This won’t be about that kind of secret mission, rather a mission that I would like to be on, or have been on without telling anyone. I suppose the only difference is solely in my head. It has to do with an idea that my Heavenly Father seemed to put into my head one day while praying for purpose.

Before I tell you the idea, which will sound way too lofty for me, I will say this; I pray often, sometimes a simple “Thank You Father”, sometimes a long running conversation, others are in written form. Each of those types can be for numerous reasons including, prayers when I am hurting. When the weight I carry feels heavier. He has often answered those lonely, crying out in pain prayers with other hurting people. Like with a man named Dale.

I met Dale in June 2019 when I was making my pilgrimage up the Appalachian trail (A.T.). I was approaching the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, and I had been riding an unbelievable high since March when I started. I was right where I was supposed to be, Thank You Father. But it was also Father’s Day weekend and well I was in my feels. Three of my four children were struggling and at varying stages of talking to me, and then there is the thirty years overdue grieving I am trying to do for my father. In short, I wanted to disappear further into the woods. I knew that I couldn’t hide the things I was processing, and I did not want to have these temporary feelings around the fellow hikers. The plan was simple, find a spot off of the trail, often referred to as stealth camping, take a zero day or maybe two.

The best part is that I was close enough to the park amenities like showers, burgers, laundry and loving families with their laughing children. The spot was perfect. I set up camp first, showered and ate “town food” second, I noticed that the Park Rangers were sharing a presentation at dark about the park and the stars above it. This is where I first spied the man named Dale, we were both sitting on opposite sides of the outdoor auditorium, in the back corners, alone, isolated from connections. The sum total of our first interaction was a head nod, a Namaste of sorts, “sup, I see you”.

I didn’t give him much thought beyond the nod, the noise in my head wouldn’t allow it. In my head I am praying that God heals my children, and me. I bolted after the awesome presentation. Standing still whenever I feel like this is dangerous, like that anytime all of the feelings will catch up. Better to keep moving.

The next day was an absolutely perfect June Saturday. The park was filled with love, children playing and the smell from grills. The plan was to take my journal, load up from the snack stand, find a spot adjacent to all of the Love and laughter, and ask for healing from my Heavenly Father. Best laid plans and all of that. As I was walking towards the facilities I notice the man from the pavilion again This time he was sitting at a picnic table away from my intended direction. To be honest, I was still in my feels and wanted to be left alone. I considered just giving another head nod, but something was telling me that I should head towards him, reluctantly I did.

I sat there across from him for quite some time. I learned a little bit about the man named Dale, I shared a bit about my struggles that brought me there that weekend, he shared about his divorce and it was plain to see he was struggling. We made no great breakthroughs, just two men talking and me trying to remind myself of my real purpose, To show others His Love, His Light. This is hard to do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself and sobbing, so most of my prayers were directed at helping me to just listen. It is sadly too common, often people need to sound things out, they have words that they need to use, they need to feel heard. I know with divorce especially, people can find themselves unable to talk with the friends the couple once shared about the pain. I listened mostly, but steered the conversation when the pain presented as anger. When we reached a natural conclusion we said our farewells and I returned to my earlier snack laden direction.

Now filled with snacks too heavy to carry on the trail I sat for a bit and enjoyed the proximity to families who were trying, and crushing it. I decided to do a leisurely wake up Sunday, slowly pack up then hit the trail for a few miles. The goal was to stretch the legs then to hide from people again, maybe this time successfully. I did just that, but popped up briefly a mile or so down the trail at another facility in the park to make use of the plumbing. There sat the man named Dale. We sat and talked again. I had the feeling at the time, he confirmed it later, three times this man came into the park to take his own life, three times God put me directly across from him. I am as thankful for the opportunity to be useful as he was for the help in his darkest time. The point was that My Heavenly Father has often answered my loneliest of prayers with someone who needs help.

Those prayers seem to be what brought me to this little town. There are people here who seemingly have been put into my path, their pain poorly hidden. I can see the fruits of some of the relationships made, and see others with no clear way to help. I also have met some amazing fathers, ones that have Love and knowledge to share. When I first came into town I was sure that I had found home, and the people to help me build the vision. To complete the mission my Heavenly Father has shown me.

A mission from God, well what is it? you ask.

A place to help the fatherless. A place where fathers can come and learn things that maybe were never passed down but they want to be able to pass them down. A place where the young fatherless can come and experience safe, solid male role models. A place to house children without families. A place where you can learn all sorts of things, Things as simple as changing oil, or as complex as forging iron. Things like fishing or golfing, or any number of things that most of us would love to learn, if there were a patient teacher.

Between the strong men and the struggling ones, I felt like I was in the right place, but no one asked the question, no one seemed interested in what I envisioned, then things got a little darker for me. I still felt like I was supposed to be here, but it was not going well. I had not made any meaningful connections beyond Walt, am 86 year old crotchety old man. I would join him every Friday for dinner at Ollie’s. It was the origin of the now Friday morning breakfast with the old men. Every time that I feel like moving on, there seems to be something pulling me back. The problem is that I am no closer to this vision, and there still seems to be no way to help the men I think I was supposed to help.