Finding My Way Home - A Christian Testimony

By early November, I knew that I had to get myself back into school. My life outside the classroom during the past six months had not gone well. As a matter of fact, it had gone pretty dreadful, and things for the near term were not looking up! I had held two jobs and struck out with each. I had gotten myself involved with a dangerous crowd and even gotten my butt kicked! Therefore, I just wanted to get back to Old Dominion University and hide myself from all the difficulties of the workplace and of life, in general.

On November 6, I returned to the school's Administration Office. My plan was to apologize for my past behavior and ask for a second chance, and this time, I really meant it! I had seen enough of the real world, and I was truly sorry for all that I had done. As I drove to the school, I thought to myself that my task would be relatively simple. I would explain what I had learned over the past few months, exchange a few pleasantries with school officials, and then sign up for the coming semester, which was set to begin in January. Thinking that I had it all figured out, I expected to soon be registered for the Spring semester. However, like so often in my life, the plans which I had made would not come to pass. Once again, I had failed to accurately calculate the response of others. During my wayward year at ODU, I had chosen an irresponsible path, and now, just because I was ready to be serious and get on with my education, I had no right to expect others to fall into line with me. In junior high and high school, everything had been easy, but this time, I was not dealing with junior high and high school!

After arriving on campus, I went straight to the Administration Office, where I had made an appointment to see the Dean of Men Students. He was the person who would be able to admit me back into the Engineering program, so with his help, I had thought that I could quickly get myself back on track.

I waited patiently outside his office for about fifteen minutes, after which time I was led in and told to take a seat. While I sat there, he completed a phone call and then asked what he could do to help me. For the next fifteen minutes, I explained everything about my past situation. I could tell that he was a kind person, but I could also see that he was firm and deliberate, very businesslike. For those reasons, I knew, as I spoke, that I would probably need a real miracle to get what I wanted. During the entire time that I talked, he just sat there, staring at my records and shaking his head. I could only imagine what must be going through his mind, but I was beginning to sense that it probably was not good! By the time that I was done, I had already and perhaps even finally started to appreciate the real seriousness of the whole matter. I had not killed anyone, nor robbed any banks. I also had not broken any of society's laws. But what I had done at Old Dominion University and the years preceding had been completely irresponsible, and at that moment, I understood that I, in truth, did not really deserve a second chance!

When I had completed my plea, the Dean responded. His words were few, but painfully to the point. He basically told me that he could not help me, and then, he said that I could appeal his decision to his superior, who was the President of Admissions. That was it! There were no lectures, no additional discussion. He did not elaborate, nor offer to make any compromises. Clearly, my miracle would not be found in his office on that day, but as I was leaving, he uttered some very profound words. He said, "Good luck on the Draft!" I did not even understand why he was saying something like that to me, but in three weeks, I would be turning nineteen and at that time become very eligible for the Viet Nam Draft.

From the Administration Building, I next went to the Administration Annex, where I would be able to see the President of Admissions. Even though I did not have an appointment, I was told that I could wait, and a few moments later, I was led into his office. I knew that this man would be my final sounding board because there was not anyone over him. He truly was the end of the line, and if I were going to return to school in January, then I would have to sell him.

As I sat in the chair before his desk, I immediately noticed his nameplate and realized that I was in the presence of a retired U.S. Navy Rear Admiral. I did not know whether that would be good or bad, but I was beginning to think that it may not be so good! In sharing my pathetic story, I tried to appeal to his compassionate side. After all, I was still hoping for a miracle! I admitted my terrible mistakes from that first year. I explained that I had gained a wealth of knowledge through two bad job experiences, and I told him that more than anything I really wanted to resume my education. I must have said at least three times how sorry I was for all that I had done, and just like the Dean, he, too, calmly sat and listened for the ten or fifteen minutes while I poured out my hardest, hard luck story.

When I was done, he called for his secretary and requested a copy of my records. Those moments while I waited for him to review that first year's effort seemed like an eternity! Finally, he looked in my direction. I had gone to his office needing, wanting, hoping for, and expecting a miracle, but it did not happen! To make matters worse, that time, I did get the lecture! The President of Admissions spoke very candidly to me for several minutes, but nothing that he said sounded encouraging. Because of my obvious frustration and disappointment, I blocked out much of his reply, but I can still recall his very stern, closing remark. He said, "You have a wall of "F"s against you, and you will never overcome them!" With that, our meeting concluded, and I was excused from his office. My appeal for clemency had been rendered. I had done my very best to undo a wrongdoing, but those people who were the designated school leaders and who knew best, the Dean of Men Students and the President of Admissions, had responded with a resounding, "No!" Based on their independent, but identical decisions, I could not return to ODU in January!

November 6, 1967 was probably the single worst day of my life, and I can still make that statement almost thirty years later. I solemnly walked back to my car, reflecting on the morning's unfruitful activity. A few hours earlier, I had honestly or maybe naively believed myself to be a simple apology away from reinstatement. Even though my school grades had been so bad, I had still expected to be forgiven. But at that precise moment, my ever returning to college seemed doubtful. From all appearances, I would never be allowed back at this or any other state-supported university. I got into my car and drove home. It was, then, while driving back home that the realization of the Dean's words finally hit. The Viet Nam War was going strong, and I was certain to be drafted! With that final, depressing thought, my spirits sank all the way to the bottom. I could see that I was in a very desperate predicament, but I could not see any way out!

What does a person do when he or she has reached the end of the road, when all the available options of life have been used? Those questions were on my mind during those days, but I did not have any easy answers. Not only was there no one to blame for my predicament, but more importantly, there was nothing that I could even do. I could not arise the next day and go to school because no state-supported institution would tolerate my presence. By flunking out of ODU, I had already surrendered my right to pursue an education. I also could not get up in the morning and go to work because I had practically made myself unemployable. In less than six months, I had walked off two jobs, so no one was likely to give someone like me another opportunity. Thus, on November 7, 1967, the day after my terrible day at the university, I had no place to go and nothing to do. So, I did the only thing left. I sat in a chair and behaved as one with no hope!

Life from an armchair was very frustrating for me. I could not stand the uncertainty of the future, yet at the same time, I could not deal with the certainty of the present, either. Because of my very deep depression, I wanted to seclude myself from everyone and everything. For the next several weeks, I rarely left my house, except to go on those late night drives which were briefly mentioned in the opening chapter. I began going for those nightly excursions just to help relieve some of the pressure because I constantly felt myself under stress. Each evening about nine o'clock, I would drive to the same exit of Interstate-64. Once there, I would take the exit, turn around, and drive back home. Occasionally, if I were extra depressed or needed a little more time away, I would complete the cycle twice, or make the drive a second time, just to extend the duration of my journey. My days and nights were always the same, with little or no variance. I sat in the same chair all day, then went for the same drive almost every night. That redundant activity meant that I was simply going through the motions of living, and I was very unhappy. Unfortunately, as I have already stated many times, I simply did not know how to fix all that was wrong with my life!

On December 14th, about thirty eight days after my very disappointing sojourn to the university, I awakened to what I had expected to be just one more empty, useless day. By that time, I had clearly become a slave to my broken life, and just as clearly, I had not been able to set myself free. Mine was a worthless life, an insignificant existence! Every day, I just sat in that same chair. Then, when evening came, I would leave home for my usual nightly drive.

On December 14th, my evening began very much like all the others. I drove the same route to the Interstate. I entered the highway in much the same fashion as before. I even set out traveling toward the same usual exit, again with the same expectation of reaching my destination, turning the vehicle around and heading back home. However, that night turned out to be much different than all the others! As I made my way to the now very familiar exit, a destination which was only about twenty to twenty-five miles away, I felt myself beginning to break. Such an emotional outburst had never happened before! Nevertheless, while driving, I quietly began to weep. I found myself thinking back to the excitement which my family had first felt when the results of my Seventh Grade Aptitude Test had been made known. Then, I recalled how so many of my junior high and high school teachers had tried to encourage me and how at that time I had hated their persistence. Yet, at that moment through my bitter tears, I longed to have someone show that kind of interest in my life again. As I thought about my intense sadness and frustration, my stubbornness, and my many failures, the flow of tears increased.

Soon, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I had finally reached my breaking point, and I could no longer remain detached from my intense agony. For so many years, I had pretended to have everything under control and to be the master of my own destiny. But on that evening on that Interstate highway in December 1967, the same highway where I had once met the ridiculous challenge of driving one hundred miles per hour, I knew that I had only been fooling myself. That evening, while driving along Interstate-64, the truth about me finally became inescapable! I had to accept that I really did not have everything under control. In fact, I had to accept that I did not have anything under control! Every aspect of my life was in an absolute mess, and I was finally able to see that I could not fix all that was wrong with me. I realized that I was in too deep, that my life had reached bottom, and that I desperately needed help!

Thus, while driving down the highway and reaching those conclusions, I peered into the heavens and began to pour out my heart to an unseen God. On an earlier occasion, I had told my troubles to a stranger at a local bowling alley, but that experience had ended in another setback. Then, I had poured myself out to the school administrators at ODU, but that experience had also ended in disappointment and failure. This time, however, I was telling my hurt and pain to the Lord God Almighty, and this time, my solution was the right one! This time, it would finally work because, after so many years of struggling with myself, I had at last found the correct remedy for all that had ensnared me.

As a result of my having called on the Lord, I became a different person that night, a new and better person. For nineteen years, I had openly rejected all forms of religion. Even dating back to my preteen years, I had never wanted to be the religious do-gooder. Instead, I had always sought to be popular. Once, I had not wanted any part of God or the religious crowd, but those feelings had been before. By December 14, 1967, my priorities were altogether different! Through my earlier attempts to flee from God, I could see that I had nearly ruined my life, and I felt betrayed! I felt that I had joined with the forces of this world and with those powers who oppose God, yet in the end, I could see that I was the one alone and hurting! In my mind, I knew that those worldly liars of life's spiritual matters had failed me, and at that precise moment, I made a conscious decision to forsake and no longer be bound by that hopeless, loser mentality.

Through my car's front windshield, while still traveling at sixty-five miles per hour, I did my best to make peace with God. I did not utter elegant words, but at the same time, I tried to not speak foolishly. I prayed with sincerity and with a genuine concern for my broken life. I knew that I desperately needed help, and on December 14, 1967, I honestly believed that the Lord was my only hope. I told Him how sorry I was for all my evil deeds. I asked Him to please lead me out of my difficulty, and in return for His forgiveness and heavenly guidance, I pledged to Him my life. Because I was not looking for the easy fix, I also asked the Lord to let me experience the full realization of my past actions. While I wanted to be released from my burdens, I recognized the danger of easy solutions. Because I never wanted to forget how far or why I had fallen, I asked Him to always keep my past experiences in my remembrance. Finally, as I looked into the sky, I promised to Him my uncompromising, unfailing love and devotion. I told Him that if He would shine a light before my path, then I would follow that light all the days of my life.

I prayed all of those words, plus a few more, at sixty-five miles per hour in about five minutes over twenty-five years ago. However, I meant each one then, and I still stand by every syllable. Despite time and my eventual deliverance, I do still remember!