My Biggest Regret

My biggest regret? Good Lord, the list is long. There is one that really sticks out to me and is going to sound corny. I took way too long in life to get close to God.

My first wife didn't necessarily steer me in this direction. More likely, she was looking to head in this direction herself. In any event, I wasn't listening, hence my first wife. My second wife (I often refer to her as my best wife) was a long-time Episcopalian. Somewhat different, but she wasn't directed through her family. She first went to church with one of her girlfriends when they were both ten years old. At the time, she lived near a Naval Air Station. She noticed how the church rallied around the widows of Naval Aviators' who were killed. Even in peacetime, many of these brave men and women die when taking off and landing on aircraft carriers. Her father was a pilot, so she wanted to be closer to God.

When we got married, she tried her best to get me to go to church with her. I had fifty excuses about why I couldn't. It was that I worked long hours and needed to totally relax on weekends, or that playing tennis at a high level was so important to me.

She finally convinced me to go. We lived in a small community that didn't have an existing Episcopal Church, though we eventually built one. Short term, we were meeting at A Seventh-day Adventist Church, since their Sabbath day was Saturday. Rather than formal services, we tended to study and discuss scripture. I enjoyed this. It caused me to read the bible more. A book that I'm afraid wasn't used much by me growing up.

We finally built our church. When I say we, it was. The congregation did much of the work. That can certainly be more centering.

Our priest was a female. This was quite new for the Episcopal Church. Her name was Beverly. I asked her once how I should address her. Father Beverly didn't sound quite right. She said, "How about just Beverly?" We became very close. She baptized me at fifty years old. I became a Lay Episcopal Minister, often sharing communion with shut-ins and people in hospitals. She talked me into teaching a group of teenagers, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

A moment that will always be etched in my mind was when I lost my job at age fifty-five. The first Sunday after, she invited me into her office for a laying on of hands and a prayer. We both got on our knees in her office. I was looking at her beautifully coiffed hair, and it broke my heart. You see, it wasn't her hair; it was a wig. She'd been diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, and the therapy had caused her to lose her hair. She was dying, but here we were in her office praying for me. We lost her about three months later. I read a eulogy at her funeral. My tears flowed freely.

It became crystal clear that a church family can help you get through tough times. I'm seventy-six now, and that church family has become more meaningful as I age. In the last few years, I've lost a father, a mother, a brother, a mother-in-law, a sister-in-law, and numerous friends and relatives. My biggest regret is that it took me so long to discover God in a meaningful way. My biggest comfort is that I have.