I praise God every day for the place we are right now. We are happy and fulfilled. We have overcome some dark days together, and Rick has overcome many, many more dark days alone. The many nights when he could never dream or imagine this life of ours are now in the past. That time is done.
Once you see the light, you know it’s there and you hold onto it.
Once you realize that you can get the right medication and that talking to a counselor can give you the perspective you need, you don’t forget it.
Once you realize that God really does speak to you through His Word and that prayer is so much more powerful than you ever knew, you cannot—you will not—go back to the life you once lived.
Those anxiety attacks Rick once experienced are few and far between, and the nightmares don’t come often. The difference now is that life is good. It’s good every morning he wakes up with a wife who loves him unconditionally. When he wakes up in a home he just bought, brewing his coffee every morning, reading the Bible that sustains him, believing the promises found inside. It’s a good life when a blond baby boy laughs with pure joy, feeding Rick’s soul with pure manna from heaven.
That boy is everything Rick could have ever dared to dream of—with a face just like his. We imagine that little boy from forty years ago, and know that our little boy will have everything he didn’t. We imagine what Rick went through, and we know that our boy lives in love, with parents who adore him.
It’s that hope, that truth, that reality, that makes it all okay, really. The boy Rick never got to be is the boy Jacob will be privileged to be. Rick prays every day that his mind will be free from the struggles of depression, of mental illness, and that his heart will love Jesus, that he will be full of kindness and grace and wisdom and joy.
To come from complete darkness and live in this light is truly a miracle. It’s surely not a human accomplishment because there weren’t that many good humans who walked by on this journey. That’s why this story is so important to tell. There are people out there who haven’t seen the light. They’re not living in the light, and they don’t think they will ever see that light.
Rick’s life is God-given proof that there’s something better out there and that you don’t need the right parents or family or job or even opportunity to find it. It’s by God and only by God that it’s found.
A pastor at church recently said that our jobs are not the way we make money. Our jobs are just a resource God uses to provide for us. And that’s true of everything in our lives. We must remember none of it is our own—not our jobs, not our homes, not our relationships, not our breath. They are all gifts from the Lord.
Rick’s life was held by the Lord from the time he was conceived—a tiny seed of hope planted in a very dark world. Human sin corrupted the purity of that beautiful life. But God never left him, and forty years later, that seed grew and developed into a man of God.
The leaves may come in randomly. The petals may not look perfect. There are days when the flower misses the sunshine or wants to curl back into the ground. But it’s too late. He is above ground—he has bloomed. He is out there for the world to see, even when he doesn’t want to be.
And every single day, he gets better at showing his face to the world.
CHAPTER 39
THE FAMILY HE NEVER KNEW
Soon after Jacob’s birth, Rick discovered a brother he never knew he had—and he found him on Facebook. Actually, it was his half-brother Mike who made the connection and reached out to us. In fact, we got the e-mail from him the same day Jacob was born—so Rick gained a brother and a son all in the same day. For someone estranged from his parents, with little contact and knowledge of extended family, this revelation was comforting, intriguing, and a little weird.
Rick was excited to discover there was someone out there like him, that the two of them had similar experiences growing up and could relate on a level where very few could ever meet them. It was a little shocking to find that Rick’s dad had fathered another child.
And Mike wasn’t the only family Rick discovered. Along with him came other siblings, aunts and uncles, even cousins—and each one seemed like the nicest person in the world. Facebook allowed everyone to begin connecting, and they all seemed to adore our photos of Jacob, even though we had never met in person.
Rick e-mailed back and forth with Mike and other family members, sharing life details, asking questions, and piecing the past together bit by bit. Finally life was making sense. Happiness wasn’t just a dream that came and went in a dark theater. It wasn’t just an escape. It was everyday life. Even better, Rick wasn’t a lost little boy wandering the wilderness of life, hoping he wouldn’t end up homeless or in prison. He was a grown man with a wife and a son. He had confidence he’d never thought he’d attain. He had happiness he’d never known existed. This was the best life he could imagine.
Being in contact with his half-brother served to bulk up Rick’s sense of identity. Missing puzzle pieces were coming together, and knowing he shared DNA and fatherlessness with this other person was a comfort. The whole situation was overwhelming, strange, and interesting all at the same time.
Mike, too, had been through some truly awful life experiences, and it was clear that he, like Rick, had a lot of emotional healing to do. And apparently he and Donald had also been in touch later in life and, similarly, things hadn’t worked out. Rick and Mike bonded over e-mail, and we all got to know one another on Facebook as well.
There was talk of meeting up one day, a prospect that caused a little anxiety for Rick. Nevertheless, within months, Mike and his partner had planned a trip to Indianapolis, and the meeting was officially on.
Oddly enough, Rick didn’t seem at all nervous about the meeting. Something about “family” gave him peace of mind. We spent the weekend with the two of them as well as Jenny’s family—going to dinner, hanging out downtown, and talking for hours one night outdoors. It was, I think, therapeutic and comforting to everyone to make the connection—and one more step forward in the Rick’s emotional healing and soul restoration.
It was not the end of the healing process, of course. Nor was it the restoration of who Rick was meant to be all that time ago when he was first conceived. But it was progress—and having an extended family was part of that.
Rick identified with the story of Antwone Fisher, an abused foster child who grew up to serve in the navy and then became a Hollywood screenwriter, an author, and a producer. Antwone was someone with whom Rick found much hope and commonality. Rick read Fisher’s autobiography1 and watched the movie about his life.2 In fact, he gave me the book as a gift when we started dating because he didn’t know how else to help me understand him.
At the beginning of the book, Antwone is literally destroying his own life, repeating a pattern of abuse, anger, and violence. Fisher had experienced sexual abuse, something Rick did not, but the brokenness that resulted was something Rick could relate to. There’s a certain kind of hurt known only by a child who is a victim of his environment, helplessly exposed to the whims of the sinful people around him. The child is dependent on the adults in his life, handicapped by their decisions and actions. If they’re not healthy, he isn’t going to be healthy, and their sickness is planted in him. If that sickness grows without redirection, imagine the results.
As a young man in the navy, Antwone found a mentor in a navy psychiatrist (played by Denzel Washington in the movie). He told the man that he struggled with the abuse he experienced in his foster home and that he was looking for his parents because he had a desire to belong, to be accepted, and to know where he came from. He felt his identity didn’t really exist and that he had been robbed of who he was supposed to be by the foster family who treated him so cruelly. He was never allowed to be Antwone Fisher.
Rick felt like that too—that he was never allowed to be the Rick Sylvester God intended him to be when he was born. That was stolen by alcohol, drugs, abuse, and neglect.
As a child, Rick was always acting, pret
ending to be someone else to make his mom happy—an impossible task. And he kept up the act for many years. He didn’t see the glaring problems until he was long past his teens, and he held on to a victim mentality for much longer than he should have. It’s one thing to know you are a victim—which he is—but another thing not to take the steps to overcome that victimhood because of it. But how could he know when no one was there to guide him?
I so wish a “Denzel” had showed up in Rick’s life when he was younger—someone who could have grabbed his shoulders, lifted his chin, and said, “Hey, you can do this. You’re gonna get out of this. You’re better than this.” Sadly, Rick had no Denzel. But he did have James, and he had Jenny, and he had other, stranger angels along the way who planted seeds and kindness in his path.
With Antwone, it was more than the psychiatrist who made the difference, though. He also met a girl. He fell in love and she was healthy and wonderful, and he realized he couldn’t be what he needed to be for her if he stayed that same scared, sad, hurt little boy he’d been his whole life.
It’s a very similar story to our own.
Included in the book and the movie is a poem by Antwone—one so powerful that you almost feel like you’re in it with him. Reading it with Rick, I felt like the poem was for him, by him, about him too. And that told me that Rick’s and Antwone’s stories are more universal than they should be.
Part of Rick’s healing came by asking Antwone’s question: Who is going to cry for the little boy? For so many years, Rick was crushed and neglected and taken advantage of. He never really got to be a little boy. As a result, his emotional evolution stopped somewhere along the way. He lived in the past, a stunted little boy who was never treated right and couldn’t find healing. So when things turned around in his thirties, it was like time traveling—he grew up twenty years in only three or four. Growth spurts like that can be difficult, but you can make it through as long as you keep growing and adapt.
Even in his thirties, Rick felt like a little boy until the spiritual transformation that ultimately changed his life. Finally meeting the right person to love him, reconciling with his mom, beginning to build a family—so much happened in five years to help him leave the scared little boy behind and finally grow up inside. He was finally happy—and learning exactly what that meant for the first time.
CHAPTER 40
HOW HE GOT HERE
Rick never thought he would be where he is today. When he was a teenager, he had vague thoughts that maybe one day he’d get married and have a family, but it didn’t seem too likely. Then, as life brought explosion after explosion, he didn’t see a path to happiness, family, or stability of any kind.
When he discovered he had fertility issues, the dream of becoming a father was dashed. When multiple relationships failed, how would he ever find someone worth staying with?
Today Rick will tell you that what he has now is far more than he deserves. But in many ways, that’s true for every single one of us. We don’t deserve anything special, because we are all imperfect humans to whom God graciously gave life. That being said, you can tell a man is really on his way when he begins to count himself as blessed with the ability to recognize faults and work diligently to change himself—to take his broken life and let God truly heal it.
Our pastor says, “It’s never too late to be the person you were meant to be.” And while quotes like that can sometimes sound cliché, they are bursting with truth and wisdom. Rick has taken that quote, along with many other bits of wisdom, and applied them to his own life.
He often quotes Matthew 19:26: “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” And he has lived out that verse as he has overcome so many obstacles—incredible obstacles that simply showcase the mercy and power of Christ if we let Him work in our lives.
“I see that person, and there’s not a day goes by that I don’t walk toward that person,” Rick said. “For the longest time, I had lost that person, and I had no direction or meaning—no purpose. I was just lost at sea . . . with no lighthouse on the shore to guide me. So my life is good. So, so good. So much better than anything I deserve. . . . I have a beautiful wife who has an amazing heart, and I have this precious boy . . . just so much more than I deserve. So yeah, my life is good. And I know that my life will only get better, and I hope that my faith in God continues to grow.”
Rick wants people to know they are not alone—and to remember that all things come to an end. He wants people to recognize the broken patterns and people in their lives and to make strides to fix these areas if possible. He referenced Alcoholics Anonymous, saying that like alcoholics we all have to recognize our problems first, then figure out what we can do to fix them in our own way. Do not be a victim of circumstances, he warns. Whether it’s addictions, abuse, or something else, step back and ask yourself, How am I contributing to this? Then get out of there.
When you break a bone, it doesn’t heal overnight. It takes time. It’s the same thing with the spirit. Emotional wounds take patience, and they require dedicated healing processes in order to move forward.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day.” That was the stand-out line in Rick’s Match.com profile the first time I glanced at it. It was a line I would hear him repeat multiple times during the next several years. It’s the mantra he acquired for his life, to reassure himself and others that baby steps are still steps and that greatness doesn’t happen overnight. Repeating it helps him accept grace for himself and adopt rationality for the monumental task of building his life and making it better.
It took 1,009,491 days to build Rome, according to one commenter on Quora.1 That was the time from the traditional founding of the city to the moment of the comment. But that was six years ago, and Rome is still being built. That means, in our lifetimes, we could never finish doing what we need to do. Rick knows that—which is why every day he perseveres and adds another brick to the building of his life. He truly lives by that phrase, and even when he feels nearly paralyzed by fear or complacency or hardened by a soul-sucking memory, he does not give up.
Success, to Rick and me, may not be the obvious achievements in the eyes of the world. For some, it’s setting a world record or becoming a CEO, writing a science-fiction novel or traveling to Tahiti. For others, it’s graduating from high school, quitting smoking, or buying a Ferrari. For us, it’s living in God’s purpose, grace, and truth knowing that the past is forgiven and the future is bright. We get to define success and happiness in our lives on our own terms, and it doesn’t require gold medals, thousands of social media followers, or even a high school diploma.
Sometimes success is the simplest of things—holding a full-time job, owning a home, taking care of a family. Every day might not be bursting with joy, but it’s settled, simmering in the life juices that sustain us, protect us, and give us the fuel we need to make it successfully through the next emotional spin cycle.
If you ask Rick what he always wanted in life, he will tell you he has more today than he ever dreamed of. He said recently, “You know, we’re going to grow old together. I never thought I’d have that.”
That’s his success. This home, this mundane job, an unconditionally loving wife, and a beautiful child.
The day he began praying for healing and reaching out to God is the day it began to get better. The only thing required was that little bit of faith and a willingness to humble himself.
That doesn’t mean Rick’s life is always easy or fun. In fact, sometimes it’s a daily battle to just get up and do it all again. But it’s the small steps we take each day, sometimes without realizing it, that eventually take us to the place where we look up and realize we’ve actually gone a mile—or completed a marathon. But you have to start taking the steps to eventually have that realization. And once you do, it’s a beautiful journey to look back on, even when you realize you have a lot farther to go.
Our Rome is looking spectacular these days—as we will soon welcome another baby into the family.
I said to Rick recently, “Get ready to start having the best Christmases of your life,” referring to how much fun little ones are at the holidays. And that’s the best part about all of this. The second half of Rick’s life really will be the best half, and he knows that without a doubt.
He’s back on Cloud 9—and this time, it’s no trailer park.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As I got to know the many stories of my husband’s childhood, the vision for a book began to take shape and, with his encouragement, we began the long process of hours upon hours of interviews. Over the course of five years, we pieced together the many complicated and heartbreaking parts of his life, not realizing the full scope of the book was still being lived out in real time. It did not begin as a faith story but certainly ended up as one.
First and foremost, I thank my husband, Rick, for his willingness to share his story with the world. His resilience, bravery, and beautiful heart are just a few of the reasons I fell in love with him. I’m in awe of his ability to constantly move forward and better himself in the face of so many hardships. He never stops trying. And I thank him for spending so many hours putting this book together and listening to me stress out about it, patiently clarifying things over and over, and trusting me enough to tell his story to the world.
I also want to thank my sister-in-law, Jenny, for being willing to speak with me to make this book happen and for being the rock in my husband’s life that he has needed all these years. Her faith and leadership in his life is so incredibly meaningful. Her presence is invaluable and I’m so thankful for her.
Thank you to James for opening up and sharing so much about his life with Sylvia and helping us paint a full picture of the hard times they endured. And thanks to James, as well, for being a light in the darkness for Rick as a child.
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