One Year Later

It has been one year.

            Leaders of companies and organizations give annual reports. Educators give progress reports. Politicians give a state of the union/state. What should I offer?

            Earnings for the last year has been steady, in that it has been very slow to almost nothing.

It has been a year of some progress, some learning, but there is much room for improvement

            The state of Malone’s union is… well… um… it exists… kinda.

            It has now been a year since I preached my last sermon at the First Baptist Church of East Greenwich. Since then I was fortunate to be part of an extensive NOLS expedition in canyons and over rapids gaining training, certifications, and amazing experiences. I have cycled from Buffalo to Albany, eating more ice cream than anyone outside of the state of Wisconsin should eat. I have led various groups through the wilderness of New Hampshire, New York, Pennsylvania, California, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. I have learned about liability insurance, the benefits and challenges of starting an LLC, the benefits and challenges of starting a 501c3 non-profit, and how important it is to call and talk to a forest ranger when planning a trip (seriously, rangers are better giving information than any social-media influencer or web site out there). I have been in the snow, in the water, in the desert, in the forest, on the mountains, and at the ocean.

            I have witnessed people sharing deep, powerful revelations; I have witnessed and shared “first experiences” with many people in the wilderness, and have shivered and wondered at the clear and vast night sky. There have been tears (some of my own) and there has been laughter. There has been cussing (a lot of my own) and there have been moments of expressed silence because there is just nothing else that one can say.

            It has been a full and wonderful and amazing year, and I’m looking forward to even more in the next year with more trips, more adventures, and more sharing and amazing.

            The year has also been full of anxiety, of worry, and of sleepless nights. It has been a year of searching, of wondering about my own sense of who I am and what it is that I am doing (I still am not fully sure what it is that I am doing). It has been a year of scraping by financially (I am so grateful for my spouse/partner). It has been a year of learning hard, expensive lessons. It has been a year of hurt and disappointment and grief for a myriad of reasons.

            And as I look ahead to the next year I see more anxiety, I see more worry, and I am afraid. I am afraid because most businesses don’t make it past the first three years. I am afraid that I made a bad decision that negatively impacts my family. I am anxious about hikes to plan, permits to obtain, people to be mindful of, and bears (even though bears are not that much of a worry). And I am still not sure who I am.

            It doesn’t feel right to tell people that I am a pastor, even though I still am. It doesn’t feel complete to say that I am a wilderness guide, even though that is primarily what I do. And it feels a little hokey and odd to say that I am a wilderness pastor, even though that is a fairly accurate description.

            But, when I am in the wilderness it feels right. When I am in the wilderness with others, it feels right. I have two favorite moments from the past year that happened on multiple trips. One is when I have witnessed the beauty and awe of the wilderness through someone else’s eyes. I see the vista again for the first time. I enjoy the moss and mushroom again for the first time. It is a joy.

            The other is when, in the evening, we have been sitting and enjoying supper and talking. The conversation about the day, about our lives, about the experience is a moment of relaxation and wonder. The joking and the sharing are wonderful moments for me.

            One year ago, I made the painful decision to change my life, to leave the job that had shaped me, formed me, and was my identity. I made the difficult decision to leave people that I loved and a vocation that I had been dreaming of embracing since I was a child. The change has not been easy. The transition has not been without bumps and pains. And now, one year later, I realize that I am still in the midst of it. I am still working through the change, through the transition. I’m not done. But then again, are we ever?

            As the song states, “regrets, I’ve had a few,” but I still feel like I made the right decision even when I also, at the same time, fear that I didn’t. “If it was easy...”

            I have spoken to a number of others who muse about making a similar decision, or who express awe at what I have done. While I’m grateful for the awe, I also wonder if it there is a morbid curiosity to see what happens. Cheering for the car wreck. I want to tell people who are considering a major change that the chance for the “car wreck” is real and close. This is hard. I have found too many tropes and narratives about people who make a change and then everything is great. I want people to know that it is not easy, it is not simple, it is a challenge. It is scary. But I also want people to know that ultimately, I still feel right about what I am now doing. Even though I really am not sure what it is that I am doing.

            Here’s to another year with hopefully a little less anxiety and definitely with many more miracles.

Postscript: I feel it is important for me to stress that I could not be making this kind of vocational transition without the support and help of so many people; friends, colleagues, mentors, and especially my family. And especially, especially, especially, my spouse and partner. Even when it seems that someone is going solo, one does not journey through life alone.

I would love to have you join me in this next year – check out my upcoming trips, or reach out to me directly to talk about what we could do.