A Roadway in the Wilderness

“Do not call to mind the former things,
Or ponder things of the past.
Behold, I am going to do something new,
Now it will spring up;
Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:18–19 (NASB)

In 2008, going through a dark period in my life, where change was happening to me and not by me, I felt powerless, alone, and afraid. I believed I had done everything right, and I felt like a complete failure. Kneeling beside a maple tree I had planted on my mini farm, above my beloved cat Newton’s grave, I was broken, and cried out to God. I was instantly comforted; He said I would be all right.

Not long thereafter, I met a wonderful woman who would become my  wife. God was right, of course. Together we found what it’s like to have a relationship with Jesus. Together we got to (and continue to) know Him, not just know of Him.

About nine years later, I had another God-nudge. I was doing well with my talents, but I could do better. The “better” wasn’t about earning more or advancing my career. It was about stepping out on faith to become an independent consultant serving small and midsized businesses. I was afraid of leaving the workforce, as I had been constantly employed since my teenage years (including part-time jobs in school), but I followed.

Not only did the business thrive, it became a platform for me to be open about my faith in the workforce. In a world where expressions of faith in the workplace can sometimes feel unwelcome, I chose to be open about mine in public forums such as LinkedIn and speaking at events.

God was right again, of course.

Now, about nine years later, I have another God-nudge. Recently, I have been asking and praying, “Lord, send me,” as written of in Isaiah:

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?’ Then I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!'” Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

Once again, there is the familiar uneasiness that accompanies change. Faith isn’t the absence of uncertainty; it’s choosing to trust God in the midst of it. Change is inevitable, but God remains constant. In response, He has placed in front of me a path that is only beginning to unfold. Proverbs 20:24 (NASB) says, “A person’s steps are directed by the LORD. How then can anyone understand his way?”

I don’t know exactly where this roadway in the wilderness leads. But I know the One who promised it, and that is enough.

God is right, of course.

Image: ChatGPT

I Was My Father, and He Was Me

My father died Monday, June 29, 2026. I am beginning to write this exactly 23 hours later. I want my thoughts to be fresh but not too fresh. It’s not as if I hadn’t thought of what I would write for months now. While the suddenness of this was a surprise, the eventuality was not. His destiny and likely timeline became clearer some time ago.

Perhaps it was that awareness that made our last few visits that much more special. The second to last time I saw him, the look he gave me as I was leaving their house, while he sat at the dining room table, still in the same spot where I had taken him for a few dollars in euchre, was new. That’s tough to say; it’s rare for anything to be new in a 58-year relationship. But this was. As I tried to describe to my wife, it was a combination of pride and satisfaction to know that he, nor I, had left anything back. We were an open book to each other. We knew we had to be; time was not indefinite.

Wolfgang Paul Carl Schaffer was his given name, but to me he was always “Dad.” But that always was not always consistent. Life, being as life is, was hills and valleys. And in the course of travelling those highs and lows, I learned that he was more than “Dad.” He was a kind, intelligent, loving man; one who loved simplicity and a good card game, a gentle soul with faults that he did not shy away from or make excuses for.

It was the faults that defined the earliest memories of Dad. My father and mother divorced when I was four years old. I don’t care how you spin it and who did what; divorce always sucks for all involved. No one goes into a marriage expecting failure. I know that well; I’ve said “I do” three times (and no more).

My mother raised me and my brothers, and we saw our father and his wife every two weeks. I still have the postcards memorized, an obvious requirement by some judge somewhere. It’d arrive the week before the weekend: “Sherry and I will arrive at 10 AM Saturday (fill in date) to pick up the boys and return them by 5 PM the following day. Paul.” Those weekends were filled with fun stuff like camping, bowling, and movies.

Yet in the early days I did not want to go. Divorce is the most difficult for children, I think. I needed time to process when I didn’t have the skills to do so. It was new to me. Everything was new to me. I had separation anxiety and needed my mother, and that was all. I would learn later that she needed me and my brothers just as much to survive.

Eventually I processed enough to enjoy those weekends with my father, his wife Sherry, and my brothers. It grew to be normal for me. And such continued until two major events; the recession of the early 80s and the dawn of my teen years. The recession ended up being the catalyst for an early retirement and refocus for Dad and Sherry, which involved them moving to cheaper North Carolina (from northern New Jersey), and my mother and I (both brothers were college men now) from the New York City suburbs to Binghamton, NY. Those years also marked my expulsions from three different high schools, but the last one let me back in to finish my academic work and graduate.

I did a lot of growing up between high school and college, an intentional year off between them to do just that. It was during that period that I came to two conclusions. First, the highs and lows in my past would inform but not define my future. Second, I saw the humanity in my father because I let myself see, and I gave up blaming him for my lows. I mourned not having a father at home, then I buried it, then I moved on.

I did a lot of growing up in college as well, even while enjoying the lifestyle. I met and married my college sweetheart. I joined the Air Force Reserve. I received orders to deploy overseas for war. Dad and Sherry were on an extended driving vacation, and I didn’t think they’d return until after deployment date, so I let his brother (who lived near him in North Carolina) know what was going on. They returned from their trip and immediately set back out on the road after learning of this, driving straight from North Carolina to Buffalo overnight to see me before I deployed, if even for an hour or two, to offer support, encouragement, and love.

That’s the type of person my father was.

Later, I, newly divorced because “life” (remember, highs and lows), moved to Knoxville Tennessee to begin a new life after college. This put me in close proximity to Dad and Sherry, two hours away across the hills (the Smoky Mountains). My father may not have been a full-time father in my childhood, but I had come to know him as a friend. Later I would know him as a man.

I don’t know when it started, but for decades my father and I played euchre whenever we saw each other. The stakes never changed, despite inflation; a quarter a point. If I were to be honest, he easily won much more than I did, including our last game a month ago. He had a knack for luck, and enjoyed parlaying that luck at casinos, including the one local to him in Cherokee, NC. He never played to make a living; to him I truly believe the thrill was just coming out ahead at the end of the day.

In 2017 when I launched my business, they gave me a congratulations card and gift, wishing me luck and success. That card has remained displayed in my office ever since. I think my father saw some of his influence in my business actions, and in a way lived vicariously through them. When I was twelve or so, he had explained supply and demand to me at a sophisticated enough level that he bragged to his coworkers the next day how I understood it. Over the years he would ask me how the business was going, including the last time I saw him. Often those conversations would lead to questions and advice, or just sessions bouncing ideas. With the exception of my wife, he invested the most time and interest in that endeavor. I owe its success partially to him.

We had many conversations over the years, hours long discussions at the dining room table on just about any topic. Once I recall, later in his life, was conversation about what happens when we die. We would return to that topic sparingly, but it was enough to know that I believe I will see my father in my Father’s house.

One conversation focused on the past. I had long ago forgiven my father for any transgressions I may have perceived against me. That was actually one of three substantial moments of forgiveness in my life; the other two involving a priest and my ex-wife. In all cases I saw and lived the value of not wanting to know details of the past or the desire to get even to make up for being hurt. In all instances, I let go, and let God. Those three served as significant milestones in my faith journey and helped build me into the man I am today.

It was because of that I said he didn’t owe me any explanation when he offered to tell me about events of when I was four. Yet he insisted. Out of respect for him as my father and my friend, I listened. I understood. I empathized. When he was done, I realized I knew him as a man. No, it was more than that. I was my father, and he was me.

In our decades long relationship, one that I could have put aside because of how it was in the early years, I had the privilege of getting to know an extraordinary man, a gentle soul, a mensch to use a word he once used to describe me. I believe he saw me not only as a son and a friend, but as a man also. There was a comradery that went beyond the blood relationship.

Seeing him get ill was difficult for me. As a youth I saw him as the macho Marlboro Man. Ironically, it would be cigarettes that would accelerate his decline in health. Each of the last times I saw him, I mentally prepared myself to understand this may in fact be the LAST time. That brought me to be more present than usual. It also brought us to where we didn’t part with anything left unsaid. For that I am grateful.

When the call came from Sherry today (as I write), I knew before she said it. My first question to her was how she was doing. She was everything to my father, his angel. He wanted to do more, but while the spirit was willing, the body failed him. I have always tried to honor my parents as best as I could. Honoring him now means helping her where he no longer can.

I love him and I will miss him greatly. I have yet to shed a tear, as I am in the beginning stages of processing, but I know it will come. I joked to Sherry two days ago that she needed to tell Dad that he’s not going to get out of a euchre rematch that easily. I guess I’ll just have to wait a bit longer for that. Keep the cards ready, Dad. Until then, I miss you.

Photo from 2021 during one of our casino adventures.

Reflecting on a Year Without Alcohol, Part Three

Today (June 24, 2024) marks one year since I had my last alcoholic drink. I have discussed two reasons, body and mind, in separate posts.

In this post, I focus on the spirit, the most important category both for reason and for results. However, unlike the first two posts where I listed sub-elements, here I must tell a story. Sit down, and take it in.

My Life Shattered

In late 1992 I experienced the worst hurt of my life. In an instant I saw my marriage end. I had married my college sweetheart, my best friend, my soulmate. I was totally in love with her, as happy as one can be. I absolutely adored her.

Saying I was devastated would be a severe understatement. I lost my identity, my purpose, my life. The angst was so powerful I couldn’t face the days.

I wanted to kill myself.

I wrote myself a note to convince myself not to commit suicide, knowing that it would get worse before it got better. That letter indeed did save my life not long after.

I went on a 30-something day drinking binge. The first couple of nights I stayed at a close friend’s place. The first night he stayed up with me all night, even though he had to work the next day, listening to me in my drunken sadness. Would I be here today without him? I’m not sure.

I lost a lot of weight. All I ate was salad, all I drank was beer and coffee. It was an effective weight loss diet, but I don’t recommend it. I think I dropped below 140 pounds.

I had been a regular partier for several years, but this was the point where I began regularly medicating myself with alcohol, using it as a crutch to deal with the pain. Even when I emerged from my initial shock and found days of sobriety again, whenever something would bother me, I would turn to my poison of choice, beer.

Forgiving, Not Forgetting

I did not realize that I had formed a habit of self-medicating though. I just thought, as I’m sure many others do, that I was just taking the edge off the pain.

But every time I thought of her, and it was (and continues to be, more on that in a bit) often, it stung. All those feelings that I suppressed with alcohol in that 30-plus day binge would surface. A few beers would dull the sharp, stabbing pain of the memories of what happened. A few more would kill it.

In the early 2000s we had a chance meeting that can only be accurately described as a divine intervention. She asked for forgiveness, and I replied, truthfully, that I had forgiven years earlier.

But forgetting is another story. I never forgot any aspect of our short time together. It was a foundational part of my life and helped build me into the person I am today. I believe there are very powerful reasons why our lives touched that I won’t go into detail here, but finding forgiveness on both sides was one of them.

I didn’t want to forget, yet remembering continued to bring stabs of pain. But post-June 24, 2023 (my last drink), I faced each memory when it hit with strength and will power. I won over the pain. I pushed it away. I did it all myself. Spock was my mentor.

Not a sustainable path.

A Test, and a Decision

Fast forward to September 2024. I returned to my college town (Buffalo, New York) to reunite with several fraternity brothers, most of whom I hadn’t seen or, for some, conversed with in over 30 years. If ever there was a test for my newfound (three month) sobriety, this was it.

It turned out to be a non-test. I enjoyed spending time with all of them at several bars and tailgating for a college football game, and I was the only non-drinker. It was like old times, except clearer, and with a cold glass of cranberry juice instead of beer in my hand.

But God knew my path was not sustainable, and that my arrogance was not justified. He tested me, and it was gut-wrenching.

The afternoon before heading out to meet up with friends, I decided to take a walk around the campus (my hotel was next door). As I walked the halls of the interconnected buildings, though, the memories came flooding back of things she and I used to do together. Meeting in Lockwood Library. Bagels and cream cheese in the breezeway. Greek life in Talbert. Notes left on windshields in parking lots.

I was walking the campus of the University of Buffalo in the same daze with the same, intense angst. It was literally as if 31 years had not passed. The pain felt as intense as it did that day when I wandered aimlessly in 1992 with no purpose and no hope.

I wanted a beer. No, I NEEDED a beer.

But I couldn’t do that. I knew God had been nudging me to quit drinking for some time. I saw the A-Fib warning as just one in an increasing escalation of messages that I had to stop turning to alcohol instead of Him.

And that is exactly what I did. I gave the pain of those memories to God in that moment, and I received His peace.

I can’t express how I felt, just to say that was another experience that showed me the truth of God’s love. I had been able to deflect the pain of thoughts of her during the first three months of sobriety by relying on my inner strength. But here God put me in a situation where I HAD to face it directly, and I HAD to make a choice. I chose Him.

As to the pain of when thoughts of her emerge, that also has subsided. Thoughts still occur, and I’m not sure why. Maybe back then I had programmed myself to think of her often, all those days and, even worse, the lonely nights when all I wanted was her back. Maybe you never stop thinking about your first love. Regardless of the reason, I am glad that we both found love and happy lives again, that we are brother and sister in Christ, and that I am free from the chains of alcohol to deal with the pain, because I have given the pain to God.

That is the most powerful reason why I continue my sobriety trek, not just because of the physical or mental benefits, but because I was given the choice to repent, and I did. Repent is the correct word, as it is a sin for a believer to turn from God, which is what I was doing with my alcohol habit. We as Christ-followers are not called to be so part time; we are to live our life for Christ. Jesus is not just our Savior; Jesus is Lord of our lives.

Turning the pain over to God strengthened an already solid marriage. Vicki, my wife of 15 years, helped me in my faith journey. Without her, I may not had arrived at the point where I could give make that choice. Therefore, without her, I might have taken that drink to dull the pain in Buffalo. I believe there are very powerful reasons why our lives touched as well, and this is one of them.

Finally

If you’re struggling with alcohol, perhaps you realize you’re using it to medicate as I did or maybe it’s stronger, a physical addiction, and you want to seek help but don’t know how, the most important step is the first one, making a move. It can be any move: reaching out to a friend, a pastor, your spouse, and so on. You are not alone. Even in the darkest of lows, God walks with us. All we have to do is turn to Him.

Reflecting on a Year Without Alcohol, Part Two

Today (June 4) is my 57th birthday. I’m starting this year off much healthier all around than when I began my 57th orbit, as I took my last drink of alcohol June 24, 2023.

There were reasons, of course, for giving up the habit, in three categories: body, mind, and spirit. In this three-part series, I discuss my reasons for and associated effects of quitting alcohol for each of these buckets. 

In part one, I discussed how alcohol affected my body and the resulting physical benefits. I also dived a bit deeper into my relationship history with alcohol. In this post, I focus on the mind.  

The Effects of Alcohol: The Mind 

For most of my decades-long dance with alcohol, particularly the latter part, my mind ill effects were confined to perceived increased productivity, perceived enhanced professional interaction, flirting with driving while intoxicated, and the wonderful experience of decompressing. The latter spans two buckets, mind and spirit, and was perhaps my biggest reason for the crutch of using alcohol. 

Productivity: I don’t know when I began the habit of working while at a bar. Perhaps it is rooted in my undergraduate days. In grad school (circa 2009) I would regularly work on my assignments while downing a few Sam Adams at an O’Charley’s on the route. More recently, later day typing on my laptop’s keyboard while downing a few pints at one of the local establishments near my office or at my desk taking advantage of Yuengling on tap in the workspace cafe for the taking. 

Why was this predominant? I had convinced myself that I could enhance productivity in the latter half of the day by “lubricating my brain”, tired from the stress of the day. At least, that’s what I told myself. I believe now that any increase in productivity was minimal and fueled by the desire to give myself an excuse to drink. After all, if I was working, then it would be acceptable, right? 

However, in the grand scheme of things, overall productivity suffered. 

Professional Interaction: For my entire career, one constant has been the prevalence of alcohol at conferences and other vendor-funded events. It makes sense after a long day of sessions, discussions with vendors, and walking, unwinding with colleagues with vendor-sponsored (i.e., free) drinks can be a welcome event. 

I think many see me as an extrovert, but I consider myself an introvert. I find (or used to find, as I’ll touch on later) initiating discussions with peers intimidating. I think introverts given extrovert appearances is common. Alcohol is a natural inhibitor of that negative feeling, and I found that after a drink or two (usually beer, sometimes red wine, never hard alcohol), I was more willing to have an open discussion, and people seemed more willing to talk to me. 

Yet I can recall many times when I regretted saying something, caught in the buzz, or heard myself slurring a but, or feeling the glazed eye look, either from me or at me. None of this felt too professional. Well before I stopped drinking, I began to pull away from these events. I’d leave conferences before the booth crawl, decline vendor after-hours events, and not accept vendor-sponsored executive networking dinners, where for the price of two or three hours (plus travel time) I could interact with many of my CISO peers while learning about the sponsors product. All that while enjoying a great dinner, with drinks, of course. 

I need to stress, though, that I don’t see anything wrong with these events. I just preferred to distance myself from them, because I didn’t care for the drinking (or the late hours). I learned to adopt a whole different approach to these events, though. More on that shortly. 

Decompress: I’m going to touch more on this subject as part of part three of this series, spirit considerations. However, decompressing more immediately involved shutting down stress in my mind. 

In the middle of my career, I took a chance and accepted a position that proved to be in a toxic situation. I knew it was a mistake by the third month. While my previous position had yet to be filled, pride prevented me from asking for my job back. I was stuck in a terrible environment, and my morale (and health) suffered. 

Often, probably at least three of the five days of the work week, I would stop at some bar on the way home for at least a couple of pints. I had a few favorite watering holes, often dependent on distance from home and the need to destress. I don’t believe I was ever physically addicted to alcohol but those days my mind needed the drinks. They served as a firewall separating the ugliness of the day from the home’s sanctuary. 

Driving: I had learned to manage my drinking if I was going to drive later. Generally, for men, blood alcohol content (BAC) increases 0.2% for each 12-ounce regular beer (around 4% alcohol). The body metabolizes 0.2% per hour beginning after the first hour. Therefore, I could have four pints in 3 hours and legally be fine: 4 pints at 16 ounces each equates to 5.333 regular-sized (12 ounce) beers, which produces a calculated BAC of 0.67% (5.333 times 0.2%), then subtract the alcohol metabolized, 0.4% at 0.2% per hour, first hour excluded). This was below the legal limit of 0.8% with a decent margin. 

My decompress stops, therefore, involved time and drink calculations. At least mathematically, I would be below the legal limit. Some would call this rationalization. 

All of this is only playing with numbers while discounting the cumulative effect of alcohol. Impairment doesn’t suddenly go from nothing to significant at 0.8% BAC. Many times, I felt while driving my reaction time was reduced, but I rationalized the habit anyway, so long as I was legal. Thank God I didn’t get into an accident, or worse. 

Mind Changes 

My productivity vastly increased gradually the first month I was sober. I attributed this to better rest and more positive body chemistry overall. I found myself getting up earlier, until today I routinely wake up at 4:30 AM and am at the office at 6 AM (as I write this sentence, it’s 4:47 AM). I joke that I get more done by 9 AM than most complete in a day of work. That’s how productive I feel. 

The time before dawn is wonderful, filled with peaceful serenity that many do not regularly experience. I use it to clear my mind for the day’s tasks ahead. I’m blessed that each morning I get to look forward to a day of doing what I love to do, and I want to experience it as fully as possible. These days won’t last forever. 

Professionally, I enjoy the clarity of mind when interacting with colleagues and others. I was put to the test early on when I was invited to a reception welcoming the new dean of the Jones College of Business at Middle Tennessee State University last summer. I found myself next to the free drinks bar, a cold, droplet-covered bottle of Sam Adams on top of the portable mini-bar seemingly staring me down, but I did not flinch. That day, cranberry juice became my go-to at events where alcohol is prevalent. Of course, that eliminated any driving concerns as well. My only worry now is if an event is later, as I tend to start winding down by 8 PM since I wake so early. 

Most importantly, I am much less anxious nowadays. A significant part of this is the abstaining from alcohol, but improvements in diet and maintaining regular exercise play major roles. I find the need to decompress much less prevalent because of these changes. 

In part three, I’ll discuss the most important leg of this triad, the spiritual detriments from drinking and the changes abstinence have brought. While body and mind considerations were important and changes in those areas have been significant, it is my spiritual well-being that benefitted the most from this change. 

Reflecting on a Year Without Alcohol, Part One

I took my last drink of alcohol June 24, 2023.

I had been a regular drinker for pretty much my adult life. I don’t remember consuming my first beer, but my one and only one experience with Mad Dog 2020, the first time I recall getting vomit-inducing drunk, was when I was 17, and therefore my relationship with alcohol lasted about 40 years. I never kept count of how much I drank beyond ensuring I wouldn’t pass the legal limit for driving. My guess is I averaged four pints, five times a week, though I’m sure I often exceeded that. 

While I had given up alcohol in the past for stretches (I believe the longest was six months), this time I knew it was likely permanent, at least to the extent of how I related to alcohol. I divorced the routine; the relationship had died. There were reasons, of course, for giving up the habit (and it was a habit; I may not have been physically addicted, but I certainly was using alcohol as a crutch). Those reasons, and their effects, fall in three buckets: body, mind, and spirit. In this three-part series, I will discuss my reasons for and associated effects of quitting alcohol for each of these buckets. 

This post focuses on the body. 

The Effects of Alcohol: The Body 

For most of my decades-long dance with alcohol, my ill effects were confined to hangovers and battling weight gain. It would be later when another, potentially more serious physical effect entered the equation, one that would serve as the ultimate trigger for giving alcohol up completely. 

Weight: Weight management has been a struggle for me my entire life. Early on, I took to running as a solution, and accelerated the activity when I began drinking regularly. I also took up smoking as a teenager, therefore running became a way to try to stay neutral. I would work out with weights and run a few miles just so that I could drink and smoke guilt-free. One would balance the other. It worked for years, but ultimately was not a sustainable strategy. I don’t recommend it. 

However, no amount of working out could effectively counter the extra calories from alcohol and, sometimes, the associated “death dogs” (those things posing as meat spinning on chrome rollers at 7-Eleven) and other late-night meals. As a college student though it was easy to cut out calories in other areas, as dining funds were limited. I learned to limit real food to make room for beer calories and carbs. 

Weight management gets more difficult as we age, though. My metabolism seemed to drop significantly at age 30, resulting in slow weight gain over the years. If I hadn’t been a regular runner, I believe I would have had a serious obesity problem. 

In the latter years of my drinking, I had whittled alcohol down to mainly Michelob Ultra as a strategy to maintain weight, with an occasional flirtation with Samuel Adams or Yuengling, the latter because it was freely available on tap in our office suite. 

Hangovers: I could have the worst hangovers, manifested as a horrible headache right behind my eyes. Some of these became migraines, for which I was prescribed a drug that would, within a half-hour, almost completely eliminate the migraine. While the drug left me quite loopy, it did provide a license to continue to test the boundaries with drinking. 

Eventually I learned (by listening to my body) that the root cause of these hangover headaches was dehydration, with a mix of low electrolytes. This, I began to alternate water with my Michelob Ultras (which some beer drinkers consider only a small step above water anyway). 

PAC: I could live with the weight management challenges and occasional hangovers, both which I learned to manage. But it was the PACs (Pre-Atrial Contractions) that led me to stop cold turkey. A PAC is an extra, early heartbeat that originates outside the upper heart chambers, which then resets the sinus rhythm. PACs in themselves are benign, so long as the burden (percentage of beats) is low. However, they can lead to Atrial Fibrillation (A-Fib), a condition where the heart beats irregularly and can lead to a stroke, or worse. 

My first encounter with PACs was the night after my stepfather’s funeral in 2022. My heart would beat two or three times, then skip a beat (or so I thought), then repeat. Much internet research led to the PAC self-diagnosis, further confirmed by two doctors and a cardiologist. The latter reassured me it wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but I knew my body. Something had changed. 

I began experimenting with diet and supplement changes, a long process. The silver bullet, which literally was very effective overnight, was to add taurine and l-arginine supplements to my daily routine. I also increased sodium supplements (LMNT is great), and removed alcohol from my diet. While I’ve made other adjustments to supplements and diet, these were the most impactful. Adding the supplements helped make me less susceptible to PACs and removing the triggers (namely, alcohol) reduced the conditions that resulted in PACs. 

I had reached a point where I could control my condition. For several months, I knew that drinking could (and usually did) trigger PACs (yet not nearly as intense as before the taurine, l-arginine, and sodium strategy), but I was able to continue enjoying beer, so long as the PACs didn’t get worse or trigger A-Fib. 

I received my first, and only, A-Fib warning from my Apple Watch (a great piece of technology), on June 24, 2023. That was a line I would not cross, and that day any beer, including non-alcoholic, that I had at the house, I dumped down the drain. I have not had an A-Fib warning since, and I am very thankful that I had been given a chance to turn around. 

Physical Changes 

After over eleven months without alcohol, I can say the most significant, and most welcome, benefit is the quality of my sleep. I routinely have the best nights of sleep. I cannot overemphasize how important and impactful this has been for my overall well-being. This alone is a powerful motivator to not return to drinking. I don’t want to give up my awesome sleep. 

I’ve developed a sweet tooth and enjoy ice cream (keto usually) on a regular basis. I also changed from drinking black coffee to adding creamer and sweetener (usually stevia). Because of that, I didn’t experience much fluctuation in my weight either way. I replaced carbs with carbs. 

I saw no significant change in blood pressure or running (my slowdown is age and mileage related). 

My daily PAC burden was probably around 15-20% at its worst. While it’s been a while since I’ve tested (I bought a Holter monitor as part of my strategy to learn what changes work), I’d guess my burden is less than 1%. 

Finally, among the most noticeable changes, I no longer have hangovers, and headaches are infrequent.

All of these changes have greatly benefitted my quality of life. However, as I mentioned in the beginning of the post, the physical aspect was but one of three that factored into my decision to retire alcohol. In part two, I’ll discuss the mental reasons and benefits. 

It’s My Mother’s Fault

My father left my mother for another woman when I was three and a half. At 33, with only a high school education, little employment experience, and minimal financial assistance from my father, she was faced with the daunting task of raising three young boys alone.

Times were different then. The Catholic Church shunned her because she was divorced through no fault of her own. She was denied a credit card because she was a woman. She was not welcomed by a majority of her friends, most married, because she was, as she described it, “the fifth wheel”.

Our story could have easily ended there, but it didn’t, and all because of her tenacity and love for her children. In later years, when I was old enough to understand, I learned that my brothers and I were her reason for continuing on. We became her purpose, the source of her drive.

Those early years were rough. Our wardrobe was from a local thrift shop. Our milk was powdered. Our apartment was infested with cockroaches. My brothers and I didn’t have most of the opportunities our peers had. There was no money for sports and other extracurricular activities, and no room for error. We were latch key kids, with the strict instructions to walk straight home from school and stay inside.

She kept moving forward. Working minimum wage jobs, she took classes at the local community college at night. How she maintained her energy and sanity I don’t know. I doubt not many then, or now, could have done what she did. She said she often bumped into walls, she was that tired.

Her drive paid off with an Associates Degree several years later, which in turn was her key for landing a position as a chemist technician. She then completed her bachelors degree and had a nice career as a research scientist. Through this, she taught us to strive for success with little resources.

My brothers and I had a paper route as soon as we were allowed to by state labor law. For me, that migrated to my first “real” job at 16 (the minimum age at the time for employment in New York) at a local Burger King. In fact, since that time I have generally always held at least one job. I have constantly strove to better myself, regardless of circumstances. I could not control external conditions, but I could control how I reacted to them.

She taught me that through example, words, and love. It’s her fault that I have this drive that has served my career well. From her I learned, regardless of negative situations or setbacks, to keep moving forward. There will be times when we are knocked down, but that’s okay. But to lie there, that’s a disgrace.

That Burger King is long gone, but I find myself today a successful business owner because of learning to persevere through adversity. I relay this story to provide a little context when I encourage those down to keep at it. They are not empty words from me, rather they are sentiments born from deep life experiences.

After my mother had successfully raised her three sons to be independent, she found two new loves of her life. The first was running, beginning at age 47. She would go on to become one of the most successful and well-known older runners in the Hudson River Valley region. The second was meeting, while running, he who would become her husband, with whom she would share over 30 wonderful years together.

Today her running days are over, and she lives as a widow. About to turn 86, she misses her past loves but continues with the positivity that has been a staple of her life. She keeps moving forward, because that is what she had to learn to do, and what she has always done. It is just who she is, and through her, how I am as well. In a sense, I am part of her legacy, a fact that I remember not just on Mother’s Day, but every day.


The photo was taken by my stepfather in 2021 after my mother ran what was her second to last 5K and less than a year before he passed. I joined her at this event to run the half marathon distance (where I broke two hours for possibly the last time). Those who recall some of The Daily Bible Wrap Up podcast episodes (the ones from the brick studio) may have noticed this photo prominently displayed. Doing so was a small but consistent honor of her influence on my life.


If you would like to learn more about my mother’s extraordinary running life, which included completing races of distances from one mile to 50K (including Bug Sur, New York, and Boston Marathons) and receiving hundreds of trophies, medals, and plaques, you can purchase her book At the Pinnacle: One Woman’s Running Journey at Amazon here: https://www.amazon.com/At-Pinnacle-Womans-Running-Journey/dp/0991105281/

A Podcast Hiatus

Over the past 20+ months I have been producing a podcast; first weekly then daily, where I shared my journey of reading the Bible from Genesis to Revelation in a year. For me, The Daily Bible Wrap Up podcast was an exercise in obedience; I felt led, perhaps even commanded to do so. And so I did just that.

Every morning I’d read, then go live around 7:15 AM Central. Later, I realized I could be more efficient and avoid possible sudden issues by recording and then broadcasting the episode later. That led to prerecording episodes days in advance to counter any possible longer disruption, such as a vacation or illness.

During this process, I learned a lot. And I’d like to think I did a pretty good job. When a flu-type illness hit me, knocking me out for a few days, I never missed a 7:15 broadcast, thanks to the prerecording habit. When we vacationed in Florida, I recorded from our condo, as I also did at other times when on the road. I had created a great routine, and I often patted myself on the back for how skilled I had become.

And during all of that self-praise, I lost the reason why I was doing this.

As I wrote above, I started this project in obedience to God. Somewhere along the line, my Type A and OCD traits took over.

The Daily Bible Wrap Up had become more something I did because I did it well. It would take a second flu-type illness in five weeks to make me realize that I had drifted away doing it for God to doing it for my obsessiveness. Which, as I thought about it further, I think was God’s plan. I hadn’t been sick with a flu-type bug since COVID in late 2020, a span of nearly three years. Getting sick with similar twice in five weeks could very well have been God’s way to force me to slow down. After all, I can be stubborn, and sometimes it takes a spiritual smack in the head to see clearly.

I fell ill at exactly the time I had let my recording buffer dwindle from five days to one. I simply did not have the strength to record while experiencing chills, fever, aches, and a completely stuffed head. I was angry at myself for slipping in recording.

Then the revelation. I had already received the message to put the podcast on hiatus at the end of the year, to refocus and determine what next steps would be. My plan was to finish Revelation, then reassess in 2024, with the idea of returning to the podcast in 2025. But God had other plans, He showed me that what was a response to his call had become a vanity exercise for me. I was trying to finish out the year not for God but for me.

Ouch.

I opted to end the podcast immediately. After missing one day, which prompted comments of concern as I had never missed a day, the following day, still ill but on the backside of the illness, I broadcasted live at 7:15 Central; you can catch the archive of the livestream at https://youtube.com/live/6_MIKn-bxCc?feature=share. I know it was the right decision because after I finished the livestream, I felt immense relief. I had indeed finished well, because I had done what God had wanted me to do.

What did I learn? First, I now understand quite well how to create and produce a daily podcast. It is a lot of work, and is difficult at times for a small business owner (I own an information security consulting firm) to devote the time to the project. One day I plan to retire, though, and I know I will stay busy during retirement. I have little doubt that The Daily Bible Wrap Up podcast will be one of my retirement passions.

Another lesson surprised me somewhat. In September I was compelled (led) to share The Daily Bible Wrap Up livestream on my LinkedIn page and I explained so in a post. To summarize, being in the Word daily helped me in my professional life, and I thought it could benefit others.

The one thing I expected to happen did. I lost some followers. Whether they did not agree with the content or just got tired of seeing the daily notifications, for that or other reasons they dropped. But the purge was minimal; I estimated about 1%.

But what I didn’t expect was the level of support and encouragement I received. Even those who did not consume the podcast said that just seeing the notification encouraged them to be in the Word themselves on their reading or devotional plans. That convinced me that there is a significant need for such on LinkedIn. Therefore, when The Daily Bible Wrap Up returns, it will be livestreamed on my LinkedIn page again.

I have more thoughts but one thing this and other media endeavors have taught me is to not be too lengthy in the written or spoken word. I’d like to close by first thanking all who have supported me in this endeavor. Your words of encouragement mean more than you know.

While it seems obvious, try to be open to God and his plan in your life, and not let your desires overshadow what the Spirit is guiding you to. As for future plans, as I indicated The Daily Bible Wrap Up will return, but it will be in God’s time, not mine. God has prepped me for something through this experience, of that I’m sure. I’m excited to discover what that is as the years unfold.

Following God’s Command

Earlier this year I announced the launch of the Weekly Bible Wrap Up podcast, where I go over the previous week’s Bible readings following a one-year Bible reading plan. I wasn’t sure of my “why” for doing it, only that I got the message that God wanted me to do it. When God asks, the best response is “Yes”!

I had no expectations, only to follow what I was commanded to do. Thus, every week, usually on time but occasionally a day (or as in this week, three days) late, I basically read my notes from the readings. I am sure I miss the mark sometimes, and sometimes I am lost to the meaning of some verses. Reading King James doesn’t help the matter either. But I plug on. Here are a few lessons I have learned along the way:

  1. This is an exercise in faithfulness.
  2. Because of number 1, listener count is not a goal.
  3. However, for each listener I feel a sense of responsibility to continue.
  4. I have felt like quitting many times, but see numbers 1 and 3.
  5. Using Anchor by Spotify and my phone makes production easy.
  6. I have become a more intentional Bible reader.
  7. Because of number 6, I understand the Bible more.

Today I also had an epiphany. As I stated on the episode I recorded a few hours ago, I occasionally revisit my pain from my failed first marriage. Even though that happened 30 years ago, the pain never fades; I just learn to deal with it by submerging it in my being. But somewhat like the Vulcans and the imbalance caused by Ponn-Far, it seems that I periodically need to revisit that pain intensely to purge it. It reminds me of a saying from my college years – “you need to go crazy some of the time, otherwise you’ll go crazy all of the time”. Last night I intentionally revisited that pain, though I didn’t know why, only that I have the feeing that God leads me to a message or revelation when this happens.

I found the why this morning. I had to catch up on two days of readings before recording, which meant beginning Hosea. There I was reminded of the premise of God comparing His relationship with Israel to Hosea’s with his unfaithful wife Gomer, and therefore the reason last night of revisiting my pain. By doing so, I more acutely understood, even felt God’s pain with Israel’s unfaithfulness through Hosea.

Experiences like that continue to teach me to seek and follow God’s plan for me, not just long term but this day, this hour, and this minute. I hope you too constantly look for God’s plan for your life, and don’t save those thoughts only for Sunday.

Announcing the Weekly Bible Wrap Up Podcast

In my last post, I mentioned how podcasting is another form of indie publishing. That was a prelude to a calling that at that time I was just beginning to understand, and have since developed into a final product called The Weekly Bible Wrap Up at https://anchor.fm/weekly-bible-wrap-up.

I’ll start with context because I think it’s important with any story, interpretation, or opinion. Because this podcast is not just about summarizing the Bible, I think it’s important to have context behind that to try to understand the intent and the communication and the message of the person delivering that and that goes to when reading the Bible – understand the context when it was written.

I grew up Catholic, but non practicing, in that we didn’t go to church regularly. It was only when I was about 16 that I reached out to the Catholic Church to learn more, as a young adult on my own. My first Communion and my confirmation were later than those going through the faith I went through that as a young adult, and some might argue that that actually makes it more impactful because you’re making a decision as an adult.

As a practicing Catholic and was pretty good about maintaining attendance with church, but really didn’t connect well with the whole environment. I felt like I was doing something as an obligation, like I had to go to church because I wanted to get to heaven. That was the only reason why I was doing any of that. It’s like “Well, here I am, putting in my time so that when I die you can see the attendance sheet and yay Greg, you can go through, that’s great.

Not exactly the most fulfilling way to look at the entire Bible and the faith.

I drifted away from the Catholic Church. But through a rather spontaneous or perhaps planned (I don’t believe anything is a coincidence) circumstance, I was invited to attend an interdenominational church in Murfreesboro, TN called World Outreach Church, and this was about 13 or 14 years ago.

Now you must understand a little bit more about context too. I grew up in the north, New York. I was a Yankee obviously, moved down to the South about almost 30 years ago and have claimed Tennessee as my home. I love it in Tennessee. It’s just been very fulfilling for me here. There’s a whole host of reasons why I really feel that I’ve reached my own personal promised land.

And in the south, they call it the Bible Belt and there’s reasons for that, you know? In some cases, there are large, very large churches and World Outreach being one of them. I accepted the invitation and went, but in the beginning, I didn’t see it as “real” church.

I saw it more as like a Christian Community Center type thing gathering. I didn’t get the holding of hands in the air. I didn’t get any of that. But it was nice, and the people seemed nice, and so I stayed.

And I did resonate with the first sermon that I ever heard from Pastor Alan Jackson. In fact, my friend introduced me to him right after that first service and I told Pastor Allen him that I was floored by his message. If you’ve heard Pastor Jackson speak, you know he has an excellent and sometimes self-deprecating sense of humor and I think his response was somewhere along the lines of, “Well, sometimes when I preach people end up on the floor.” In other words, he puts them to sleep. That was my introduction to him personally.

I started to attend world outreach more and more and then around this time is when I met my wife. Before we got married her and I started to attend together. We were regular in our attendance off and on, off and on, and became slowly over time more on than off and something was happening within us. Several years ago, I think about six years ago we joined the choir and that certainly opened up more about the church.

What was happening to me was that I was understanding and growing in this concept of a personal relationship with Christ. I always thought that that was sort of like marketing mumbo jumbo from the extreme evangelicals. But it really, really resonated with me.

Every year the church does a weekly well daily rather Bible reading. The idea is that if you read the Bible for 10 or 15 minutes a day, you will get through. And I use those words on purpose because I’ll explain why I said that in just a moment you will get through the Bible within a year. I thought, well, I’ve never read the entire Bible. I probably should if I really want to get a better understanding about what it is that I believe. Plus, Pastor Jackson had kind of implanted in my mind that you can’t really understand the New Testament without really understanding the Old Testament. That makes sense, and makes more sense as you read the Bible.

I began listening on my commute. I would commute one day to a remote office about little more than two hours one way, and that would be my day that I would catch up on the Bible. During the commute, I would listen to a podcast called the Daily Audio Bible and it was my introduction into the regularity of the Bible. I was trying to catch up on all the daily readings for the week in one day. With all the Bible readings, because I’m a type A personality, I wanted to make sure I was staying on schedule, because I wanted to get through the Bible.

There’s a problem with those words – get through. It signifies an obligation, really, nothing different than what ended up turning me off from the Catholic Church.

But God was working through me, and after two years or three years of passively listening to the Bible, whether it be driving or then I got into a better habit of doing it daily. Sometimes I still had to catch up, but I would listen while I was working out. It was still in the list of priorities, a background thing, but at least it was on my list of priorities of things I was doing.

I think I’m into my 4th year now of reading (not listening to) the Bible. The first year I did it, it was the same methodology. I would read one day, and then I’d skip a few days and then I’d be like, “Oh gosh, I have to catch up and I go through it really fast and then yay, I could check that off and move on.”

At the beginning of the pandemic, I became a lot more intentional about this. I made two changes. First, every morning, first thing in the morning, I would read my Bible. I wouldn’t put it in some other place on my schedule whenever I had a chance to do it. I would make that the priority.

The second change is I began to write notes about it. Now sometimes I’d write down verses. Sometimes I write down feelings or opinions, or where I’ve seen things in relation to today’s modern culture. That was all just for me. It took two years, but I filled a 200-page composition book with daily notes. It helped me to focus on being more intentional when I was reading the Bible. I was reading and trying to absorb it.

Then I changed the translation. I don’t remember the first couple of iterations NIV was one of them. Maybe I read NIV twice in a row and then switched to Living Bible, which was a much easier read. After that I thought, well, I probably should go in the exact opposite direction and read King James. Old English that makes it for a very difficult reading, but I bought the Holman King James Version Study Bible. They do a wonderful job of explaining not only what some of the English means, but also what some of the Bible means, like what are they getting at here? Why are they doing this?

There’s so many elements in the Bible, so many rules. In Leviticus, for example, that when you’re reading Leviticus, talk about having to get through something, it seems like! It is a difficult read, but there is a reason, a structure, that makes perfect sense as to why these sacrifices were done as they were, given the context of when it was written.

During these years, in my day job in information security, I had started a few years ago a YouTube series called The Virtual CISO Moment (CISO stands for Chief Information Security Officer). The series began as a marketing strategy to try to get folks interested in the services we offer. Then that video series slowly. developed into more of an effort of giving back. I have more than 30 years of knowledge and experience in this field to share.

This year I put it up on Spotify and other platforms through a unique opportunity that came my way. Spotify was looking for amateur video content creators like me, those who have already demonstrated that they’ve done videos in the past that they wanted us to be the first wave of their new expanded video and audio podcast creation platform called Anchor.

The Virtual CISO Moment was accepted, and that accelerated my growth into the podcast space this year.

All of this was coming together for context as to why I’m doing this podcast. There are a few elements that have converged. First, I have learned and grown in reading and understanding the Bible, particularly through the intentionality of reading every morning and writing about it.

Second, I’ve learned about how to create a podcast efficiently. One of the first rules of podcasting I would say (I didn’t read this anywhere but may be common advice) is to be consistent about it, so I do this every week. That’s why a new episode drops every Sunday at 6 PM Central (US).

Third, I’ve gotten proficient at speaking into this big foam-covered microphone on a regular basis. I record three episodes per week of The Virtual CISO Moment. I don’t have microphone fear anymore.

I started to get the God-nudging beginning of May. “Hey, Greg. I think I want you to do something else.” That’s how I started in what I’m doing in my career now; five years ago, it was a God nudge, and you can learn more about that if you to the other podcast (first episode titled Genesis).

Here it was, another God message, the shoulder tap, a little whisper in the ear. “I’ve given you these talents. I’d like you to bring them together, for my purpose.”

And thus, The Weekly Bible Wrap Up was born. I don’t know how many people are going to listen to this, but if just one person listens, it’s worth it. I hope more will. I hope that this becomes for some people a vehicle to help bridge from that “I’ve got to get through the Bible” to “I’m living the Bible and I’m living the relationship.”

The one thing that I, nor any podcast, or preacher, or anybody (not even God) can give is the desire to begin. The desire comes from faith. You must believe, when reading the Bible, first and foremost that there is a God who created the universe and loves us.

If you go to the Bible looking immediately right out the gate for proof, chances are you won’t find it, because you’re reading it with the eye of its skeptic. But if you read it as a believer in God, it is amazing how it opens understanding.

I now look forward to reading my Bible every morning, it’s not something I have to get through because it seems like every day I gain more insight, I learn something new. I’m excited about it! I’m excited about this path that God has put me on. I hope it helps you.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. I’m certainly open to any feedback. I hope this podcast becomes a real blessing to you.

Post based on the transcript of the introductory episode of The Weekly Bible Wrap Up.

Iraq Invaded Kuwait 30 Years Ago Today

Thirty years ago today, Iraq invaded Kuwait. Today there is an initiative to build a memorial to commemorate and honor those who, as members of the Armed Forces, served on active duty in support of Operation Desert Storm or Operation Desert Shield. I was on beach in Florida that day in 1990 on a weekend Air Force trip when I heard of the invasion. I had no idea then how much that snippet of information would affect my life.

Logo+on+black+lo+resIn the summer of 1990, I was a newly married 23-year-old, preparing for what would be my fourth year of a five-year aerospace/mechanical engineering curriculum at the University at Buffalo. I had enlisted in the US Air Force Reserve the year before. My career goal was to fly planes. I’d get experience around aircraft as a C-130 cargo plan mechanic, then move to a pilot position flying something (I wasn’t sure what) once I had my undergraduate degree.

The reserve seemed like a great safe path to that experience, all while earning great money for part-time work. I volunteered for as many weekend trips as I could, as they paid well and were informative and fun. If there ever was a war, which I was sure there wouldn’t be because the Soviet Union had crumbled, we may be activated to fill in for the full timers that would go overseas to fight. But there wouldn’t be a war.

Wrong.

When the situation escalated to where we were sending troops overseas, slowly I realized that our unit could be activated, likely for stateside service. I wouldn’t be pleased about the inconvenience of putting off my college degree. I was eager to start being a full-time breadwinner. But if duty called, I’d respond.

Early in my college career, prior to joining the reserves, I had a conversation with a friend. He said that if there ever was a war that brought back the draft, he’d go to Canada. I couldn’t agree. I felt back then, as I do today, that so many of the blessings in my life were a direct result of the freedoms we have, fought for by many, some who paid the ultimate price. If my turn came, I’d go and pay my dues, I said with the confidence that it would never happen.

It did.

The message on the answering machine that late September day in 1990 was short and simple: I had a few days to report for duty for overseas assignment. Tears welled up in my wife’s eyes, and she asked, “What does it mean?” I didn’t have an answer, but I tried to be the rock I thought I had to be. “I guess I’ll be going on a three-month vacation to the land of the sand,” I said.

The truth is, I didn’t have to go. I could have pushed for a deferment because of my college status, as a few in our unit did. I never seriously considered that. I had made a commitment, and I would honor it.

That would become one of, if not the strongest defining moment in my life.

Desert Shield, and then Desert Storm, permanently shaped my life path and my perspectives. Some changes were good, some not-so-good. That’s life. Our characters are tested daily. I’d like to think that I have been more true to my character with every test partially because of my decision to not defer.

When we returned home from Desert Storm, it was flags and yellow ribbons everywhere. Americans were united. The mood of the country was good, and the ghosts of Vietnam had finally largely been put to rest (though some will always remain). That was the United States that encouraged me to serve.

Things are a lot different today.

I don’t know how it happened, though I, like everybody, have theories. I don’t have to tell anyone who was an adult then that we are more divided now than in 1991, or maybe in almost any time on our country’s history. If you don’t agree with the other side, your thoughts, positions, morality, and even standing of a human being are often questioned, if not completely berated. How did we come to this place?

I have experienced this firsthand, especially on Facebook (see my last blog post). I feel that I have lost my right to express my opinion. This is a topic for another post, another day. People are openly posting statements that are so blatantly full of hate. The worst part? I doubt that many, if not most can even see the hate. They take the worst possible aspect of the side they don’t like (you name the issue – politics, COVID, etc.) and automatically assume that if you don’t agree with them, you are the worst of the other side. And if that doesn’t work, the fallback is “if you’re silent, you’re complacent.”No middle ground, no consideration of discussion.

The United States of 1990 was one of differences, yes, but also one of compromise. We have lost much of the ability to discuss issues in a civil manner. Just open any news site. This is a very dangerous situation. Without discussion, divisions will widen. Our republic’s continuing existence isn’t guaranteed. It must be constantly attended to.

I haven’t lost all hope. If I were called back to defend the United States, I would serve, in whatever capacity I could. I love this country. I bleed red, white, and blue. But it won’t happen without fundamental changes in everyone’s hearts. And I believe that won’t happen without prayer. Lots of it. Honest, fervent, passionate.

God bless the USA.

The National Desert Storm and Desert Shield Memorial is a new national monument that has been approved by Congress and President Trump (March 2017) to be built by 2021 on the National Mall in Washington, DC. Visit http://www.ndswm.org/ for more information. Image from http://www.ndswm.org/