Onsite (part one)

Onsite (Part One)

(NOTE: I do not have the right or the permission to share the parts of this story that are not my own. It is a story however that needs to be told. Parts of this story need to be shouted from the roof tops. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. If you were there, and you know these stories first hand, and you feel that I am over stepping my bounds, please tell me. I will gladly remove them)

Against their better judgment everyone somehow agreed to let me get into my truck and drive off alone. This is probably a raving tribute to the deep amount of BS that I was still able, despite my condition, to sling at will. They all had serious doubts as to whether I would show up at Onsite or not.

I had every intention of showing up. I simply had no intentions of staying. I already had my exit strategy mapped out. I was there to make a showing of good faith, to do my part, then leave and come up with my own way out of this mess. God or someone else was going to have to get my attention real quick.

He wasted no time.

When I arrived at Onsite, I was a few minutes early. So, I hid in my truck for awhile. My anxiety was at a critical level. It was hot and I was nervous. I remember sweating like a pig. I rolled the windows down and listened to the radio for awhile. I didn’t see a soul. The place looked deserted. When I could no longer sit still I finally got out of the truck and walked sheepishly up to the main building.

Two smiling ladies met me just inside the building. They sat behind a table with everyone’s name badge and cabin key all neatly arranged. I could tell by the table that they were expecting a lot more people. My badge and Key were first. I remember one of the ladies patting my hand as she handed me my cabin keys. “It will be alright.” She said softly. It wasn’t so much what she said; it was the look in her eyes when she said it.

I knew that look. I had used that look a million times over the years. I had often used it at the bedside of a dying patient to comfort and reassure the families. I had used it to calm patients who were heading into life or death surgeries. It was a look of caring, understanding and sympathy. It finally started to dawn on me what I must really look like at that moment.

I went and found my cabin. It was nice, rustic, clean, and cool. I found a water bottle with my name on it sitting by my bed. I saw from the other water bottle waiting in the room that my room mate (if I stayed) would be a guy named Ralph. There were three beds, but only two water bottles. I took this as a good sign.

I went outside and sat on the cabins covered porch and waited. There were old time rocking chairs. It was shaded and much cooler than I had remembered it being only 5 minutes ago. It was then that I witnessed my first of many “God Moments.”

He was the first person that I met at Onsite. He walked up onto the porch, smiled and introduced himself. His name was Linus. He was the kind of person that you just instantly like. He was handsome, confident, real, honest, and kind. We hit it off instantly. It was like I had known him for years. I wondered what would bring such an obviously good person to a place like this.

He explained without going into much detail that a very good friend of his had recently committed suicide. He said that he was just having a hard time dealing with his friend’s death and needed some time. I gave him my best look; I told him it would be OK. I was sincere.

Linus was assigned to the cabin right next to mine. He said he was going in to put his luggage away. I told him to check out the water bottles and see who his roommate would be. He smiled warmly, said he would, and then disappeared into his cabin.

The odds of what happened next simply can not be calculated. There is no such thing as chance. There are no coincidences. Ask anyone who knows this story first hand. There is simply no explanation.

Linus soon returned to the porch. But, something had obviously changed. Linus looked shaken and sick. I asked what was wrong. It took him a minute or two to answer.
He told me then that his dear friend had been named Kendell. He said that no one knew that. Linus had just learned that his new roommate, according to the water bottle just happened to be a guy named…. You guessed it… Kendell.

It was right then that I decided I had better stay awhile. That place was magic. No, that place was sacred.

Turning the Corner

My miraculous new found ability to finally seek and accept help was the first baby step on my long road home.

I had already been to Medical Doctors, Counselors and a Psychiatrist, all to no avail. It was time to call in the “Big Guns”.

Lynetta, Russ, and the church elders (shepherds, as we heathen like to call them) got busy. Phone calls were made, and my bags were packed. They were sending me away.

The “Big Guns” turned out to be a beautiful, quiet little “resort” hidden back in the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee, called OnSite http://www.onsiteworkshops.com/

Long ago, back in my saner days, I remember believing and teaching that there was no such thing as chance - that there were no coincidences. I remember believing that everything happened for a reason, and that someone very powerful was in charge. Turns out I was right. (Even a broken clock is right twice a day)

There is a scripture in the New Testament where Peter says something like; “Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who ask you about the hope that you have within you.” What he means is this: Always be ready and willing to share your “God Stories.”

The next part of my story is exactly that - a “God Story”. it is one of the many reasons I have for believing in and relying on God.

The next part is difficult for me to tell. Not because of the pain or the depression that came with it, but because the next part is different - the next part is, to me, sacred.