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If you were to ask my family and friends to describe me in a single word, it would be “passionate.” I seize life with an energy and vigor, as if each day were my final. As a relational extrovert, I am surrounded by many dear friends and a strong accountability network that keeps my eyes fixed on Christ and His Word. On a personal level, I enjoy vacations that require a minimal amount of luggage and a maximum amount of exercise, such as cycling in Europe, trekking in the Andes, or kayaking in Alaska. My daughter is the only one keen to accompany me, so many excursions are ventures on my own with strangers from all over the world.

Like many, I aim to lower my golf handicap as well.

I have been fortunate to enjoy a diverse and dynamic career as a global project manager and operations leader, encompassing travel throughout the world and also seizing unique opportunities to share the story of God’s amazing grace in my life. A native of Southern California, I now reside in beautiful northeast Ohio with glorious scenic views that should all be translated into screen savers.

In my deep and quiet space, God has graciously granted the gift of poetry. I wrote this particular one years ago; however, the lines have “returned” to my heart and mind in many circumstances and reminded me of true Purpose.

Purpose


Where did all the years go as life comes to a close?
Are the snapshots plain to see, or are they unexposed?
Did I grip the bitter moments as trophies all my own?
Or melt their grandeur down and distribute polished stones?
Did I take the harsh, cold winters and with spring remain inside?
Or appreciate each season and choose there to abide?
Did I stand so tall that others could not see within my eyes?
Or kneel level with their hearts and hear the inner cries?
Did I fan the flames of fiery rage over justifying the truth?
Or let morning dew reduce to ash knowing character needs no proof?
Did I comfort in my prisons, hanging pictures on the walls?
Or allow Him to unlock and walk down freedom’s halls?
Did I crumble under rocks of pride with injuries prolonged?
Or let those wiser dig me out, admitting I wasn’t strong?
Did I shake my fists at heaven, demanding answers why?
Or recognize more wisdom represents the best reply?
Did I take each chapter written, seal it for my selfish prize?
Or generate an epilogue to share with younger lives?
Did moments pass in emptiness with conflicts in the soul?
Or were the last words on my lips, “I truly do feel whole”?