As I work on scanning some photos of my children, so that I can send them, along with other memorabilia, to them as gifts, I'm watching on GAC, the Gaither Gospel Hour.

I may have negative feelings about organized church, but believe me - when I hear gospel music, old time hymns, and feel the sharing of love, I feel like I'm in God's Church.

The first time I went to a Gaither concert, in San Diego, it was with my first wife, Crystal, and her Mom & Dad.  Mel Pohlman was more a Dad to me than my own, and he was definitely my spiritual sponsor.  A few weeks before this concert, he had led me back to the Lord, and I asked God to open the doors to the ministry to which he had called me, and to close the doors if they weren't right for me, or it was simply time or better according to his will.

Later, after seminary, and two problem churches, I allowed my human nature to convince me that I was a failure, and that God was not on my side.  Years later, I now know that I ministered as I was supposed to do.  But I was not supposed to hang my head in shame, and turn to the "dark side."

It was only a few years later that Crystal asked me to leave and go to Florida and stay with my birth family.  Indeed her Dad had advised that she divorce me.

She suggested that I take the money from our checking account to buy a plane ticket.  I packed all that I could.  Then I sat out on the curb, trying to explain to my kids that even though I was leaving, I would always love them.  As I write this, tears are in my eyes right now.

A sister took me in until I got a job and an apartment.  I'll never forget, though, the agony I was about to feel - even worse than the heartbreak of a 21-year marriage ending and my family breaking up and leaving my kids behind.  I called Crystal to ask her to delay the divorce, and to meet me somewhere "neutral" and allow me to try to win her back.

She informed me that this was not possible, because when I asked if there was someone else, she said it was the man who had, I thought, been my best friend.

Being only a man, with the 3 to 4 hour time difference between Florida and California, I would envision what was going on there, and I thought it was more than I could bear.

I put on a cassette tape of the Gaithers.  And the song, "Have you had your Gethsemane?" started to play.  Thank God for helping to put my sorrow and pain into perspective!  It still hurt, and it even hurts all these years later.  But God through Jesus and the Holy Spirit (because that was my path to God) began to comfort my heart and to show me new ways.

I prayed that God would restore my marriage and my family, and help me to not turn hard, but to be able to love, and be loved.  My marriage was not restored, but I found peace even to wanting Crystal to be happy.  And I knew that we both had failed.  There was no need to feel that I am a bad person, nor that she is.  We are humans wanting to be loved and appreciated.

I set out on a program of learning new lessons of self-discipline, and learning to love myself.  While there's still a long way to go, I think that my relationships with my children is still open to healing and restoration.  We may not be able to go back, and be what we were, but we can be who we really are, and care for one another.  And I do care for them, and love them.

As I've said on other essays, I believe that Marge was, and is, my gift to help me love and be loved.  She has even helped me to not condemn myself, but accept what is done, and go on.

So, whatever your heartaches, whatever your failures, may you begin to reach within and give yourself a hug.  You KNOW that this person wants to be loved.  If you cannot forgive yourself and love yourself, how can you (and I) expect that others will do so?

And whatever speaks to your spirit and soul and heart - music or stories or the wonder of the world around us - may God open your heart to love, and to Him.

Since I don't currently have a BLOG apart from my spiritual search (don't get frightened - I'm the least likely example of a "holy" person that you'll ever meet), I'll just post this as an aside.

It concerns cooking.

My first wife pretty much controlled the kitchen.  I did help with cleaning up and some odds and ends, but it was plain that it was HER kitchen.  We were married for 21 years, so it's not like everything was wrong, and I give her full credit for persevering so long to try to keep the marriage going.

When the marriage ended, I had a LOT of growing and learning to do.  Taklng responsibility for my life was the common denominator.  I did make many good strides, I believe, but I also stumbled a bit.

After about five or six years, I married again.  My second wife and I were more of a team in the house, I believe.  Yet, I had not grown or learned or matured enough, and we parted ways (as husband and wife) within a year.  I'm happy to say that we parted and remained friends.

About two years later, I met Marge.  She and I both acknowledge that neither would have been "ready" for the other at earlier times in our lives.  But now, we mesh really well.

I realize that was long-winded, but NOW I can address the main intent of this post.

During my "batching" years and early in my marriage to Marge, I have been very grateful for a cookbook published by Doubleday.  Not only is it clear and concise, but it gives alternatives.  In addition, I've learned to experiment and adapt recipes to what I like, or what Marge likes.

In December, 2008, Marge's 86 year old Mom (87 on 8/25/2009) came to live with us.  She has strength and health problems, and has to use a scooter in the house, and a wheel chair (or electric cart where one is available) when we are away from home.  I drive Mom to another town to the church she attends, and has joined.  Sometimes I stay with her, and sometimes I run errands and then come back for her.  Remember, I'm a former Pastor, so I still like singing, and sometimes I like the sermons (but not evidences of judgmentalism).  And I simply hate the arrogance and disregard I see toward people who hurt and need to see God but are, in my opinion, kept away by so many church and church denomination's insistence on acceptance of dogma (rather than acceptance by God).

Last weekend, Marge, Mom, and I went to a suburb of Tampa, where we used to live, for the birthday of Marge's son, Patrick.

While there, I commented on a bag of limes that had been bought by Marge's brother when he, his wife, and our nephew visited us about a month ago (many more than needed for a case of Corona he bought - along with other beer and soft drinks).  I half-jokingly asked Mom if she would make me a key-lime pie.  I knew that she wouldn't, so it was only a joke.

I have to explain that she does make pies (with Marge's "help") on occasion, but usually it is a lemon pie for "Marge" (and her) and a banana cream or coconut cream pie for "me" (and her).

Mom answered me, "No!  I don't like key lime."  It kind of hurt my feelings.  I didn't say any more, but I thought to myself: "Well, I don't particularly LIKE going to church, either, but I take you."

Marge already knows that I take a very long-winded path to get to my point.  And now you know it, also.

I checked my old Doubleday Cookbook to see what ingredients I would need.  Last time Marge, Mom, and I shopped, she picked up some condensed sweet milk for me.  We decided to use some little small graham cracker pastry shells rather than a pie shell.  And we got cool whip for the topping.  And so, today, I put the "pie" together myself.  Filled (to the brim) 6 small shells, plus a bonus bowl.

They're all in the refrigerator now chilling.  I grilled steaks tonight, and Marge cooked asparagus and baked potatoes.  And soon I'll be sampling the key lime desserts I put together.  I already know it'll be good, because I licked the spoon after pouring the filling into the shells.

So, my hat is off to Doubleday.  I heartily recommend this one, or any cookbook for males who want to take a step into adventure.  Want something in particular?  Make it yourself!

But you know what?  Mostly I acknowledge that Marge's cooking is far superior to what I could do.  So here's hoping I never have to do all my own cooking.

Nevertheless, if Marge were unable to cook, I know that I would do my part.  That's what teamwork is all about.

I'm reading Catherine Coulter's Wizard's Daughter. I enjoy the mysticism.

As I reflect, I am reminded that throughout my life, I have encountered people who touch my soul. Some stay in my immediate life for some time, while others I have interacted with for only minutes.

Yet, each one had a lasting and memorable impact on my life and my thoughts.

It would be hard to fit them into a label, as I have felt bonds with people of diverse philosophies, spiritual insights, and paths of living. If there is a connection, it has seemed to me to be something quite intangible - of being open to giving of oneself and to receive.

I remember the man I will always think of as my Pastor - Orval Butcher. And there was his Father, a special man whom we called Pop Butcher. And a retired Army chaplain, Chaplain Lauby. Then, there was a so-called American Indian, or Native American, that I chatted with for some thirty minutes in a sidewalk café in La Jolla Colony. A friend is Wiccan.

Another friend might be thought of as an entertainer by some, and by many others, a Christian minister. I recognize her as much more.

I look forward to other special moments - when I encounter someone I know I was meant to meet.

What about you? Do you ever have times when you feel a sense of wonder?

Religion - like politics - evokes strong feelings.  Despite lip-service to tolerance, so many people are convinced that they know what God likes and dislikes, and "the way" to God.

As chronicled in John 21:15-25, Peter asked his Lord, "...what about him?"  We seem to be more concerned about others whose spiritual path seems different than ours than we are with our own path.

Jesus answered Peter: "...what is that to you?  You must follow me."

The so-called "Minor Prophets" has a recurring theme wherein God wonders how we can glibly call God our Father, when we refuse to accept our brothers and sisters.

I very much like the repeating comment - in Wm. Paul Young's The Shack - made by Papa (God the Father) as She (I use the pronoun used so provocatively in Young's book, which I find very refreshing) tells Mack that She is especially fond of him (and of everyone else, also).  She was not fond of all of their actions and thoughtlessness and pride and fear, but each person is special in Her heart.

As each of us seeks and finds God (whom I believe is just waiting for us to open our eyes and hearts), I think we should trust God to lead each person as to what is "right" and "wrong" for that person.

Religions seek to define God and our God-talk (theology) and who and what we must be and do.  But God is larger and more faithful than any religion or philosophy.

Is your religion - or sect or denomination - the "only way" to God?  Why not work on your own impediments and wait and see.  As for myself, I know that I have sensed God's love and gentle spirit within people of every walk of life and way of thought.

Look to God - not to others.

Angels come in packages you don't expect.

One night a man got my attention as I walked by him in a piano bar in Brandon, FL - a place called Armand's. I don't know if there is a "politically correct" way to say he was Jewish-looking. But he did, to me. He made some comments that showed he knew things about me that I doubt anyone would know.

We went to the bar, where I set my drink and he held his stogie. I don't recall seeing him smoke it, though. He told me he knew that my excuse for not doing right was because I didn't feel "loved." He wanted me to know that God did love me. He also warned me that although he thought it was too late to change, something bad would happen to me on State Route 579 if I did not get right with God. Since I usually drove that way when I put the bar to bed (after starting the evening with happy hour at the Outback), this got my attention! I remembered an old harassing technique you could use if someone was witnessing to you: "If I get right, will you be my friend?" True to character, I still wanted to "feel" loved. But when I tried that on him, he said that he was only friends with the Lord.

I now believe he was the Angel of the Lord. And I believe He, one more time, showed me He loves me.

I went to the bathroom again, and when I returned, he was gone. It began to occur to me the next day, to wonder if I had passed out and had a dream. But in that bar, I would have been kicked out for that. And I thought about it and realized that nobody in the lounge or at the bar seemed to pay any attention to us. Of course, that's not completely a surprise, when people are talking quietly. But the bartender didn't even wander by. I now believe, based on what someone who has had angel experiences told me, that I was in like a time warp - outside of time, if you will.

First, when I got home safely, I prayed and prayed. Then I cleaned up my act. Then, I turned back to the church (I was a former minister). But I soon saw that my views of the GOD who loves people as they are and as they hurt and no matter what disease they have, or sexuality they exude or don't, or how many mistakes they have made, or what they drink or smoke... didn't sit too well there. I began to realize that spirituality doesn't require membership in a particular church or denomination or even religion.

About this time, I met Marge. Our first date was in Armand's. We both love music and football, and if we sin, we sin together! She is teaching me the rules. Sometimes, I have to ask forgiveness because I cause a misunderstanding (you know, "A female is never wrong." "If a male thinks the female is wrong, he should immediately apologize for causing the misunderstanding."). But I included in our vows that she is to remember that I "am just a man!"

Angels come in packages you don't expect.

One night a man got my attention as I walked by him in a piano bar in Brandon, FL - a place called Armand's. I don't know if there is a "politically correct" way to say he was Jewish-looking. But he did, to me. He made some comments that showed he knew things about me that I doubt anyone would know.

We went to the bar, where I set my drink and he held his stogie. I don't recall seeing him smoke it, though. He told me he knew that my excuse for not doing right was because I didn't feel "loved." He wanted me to know that God did love me. He also warned me that although he thought it was too late to change, something bad would happen to me on State Route 579 if I did not get right with God. Since I usually drove that way when I put the bar to bed (after starting the evening with happy hour at the Outback), this got my attention! I remembered an old harassing technique you could use if someone was witnessing to you: "If I get right, will you be my friend?" True to character, I still wanted to "feel" loved. But when I tried that on him, he said that he was only friends with the Lord.

I now believe he was the Angel of the Lord. And I believe He, one more time, showed me He loves me.

I went to the bathroom again, and when I returned, he was gone. It began to occur to me the next day, to wonder if I had passed out and had a dream. But in that bar, I would have been kicked out for that. And I thought about it and realized that nobody in the lounge or at the bar seemed to pay any attention to us. Of course, that's not completely a surprise, when people are talking quietly. But the bartender didn't even wander by. I now believe, based on what someone who has had angel experiences told me, that I was in like a time warp - outside of time, if you will.

First, when I got home safely, I prayed and prayed. Then I cleaned up my act. Then, I turned back to the church (I was a former minister). But I soon saw that my views of the GOD who loves people as they are and as they hurt and no matter what disease they have, or sexuality they exude or don't, or how many mistakes they have made, or what they drink or smoke... didn't sit too well there. I began to realize that spirituality doesn't require membership in a particular church or denomination or even religion.

About this time, I met Marge. Our first date was in Armand's. We both love music and football, and if we sin, we sin together! She is teaching me the rules. Sometimes, I have to ask forgiveness because I cause a misunderstanding (you know, "A female is never wrong." "If a male thinks the female is wrong, he should immediately apologize for causing the misunderstanding."). But I included in our vows that she is to remember that I "am just a man!"