Malcolm Marler’s Blog

This is my first blog post ever.

It’s been a busy year.

Mary and I eloped (with Brendan and Kiki) on July 4, 2004 with only the four of us knowing the secret wedding details along with pastor Sarah Jackson Shelton, and Judy Bridgers standing in as photographer and witness. It was the happiest day of my life. Wedding pictures.

I moved to Chapel Hill, NC to live with my new family settling into being a husband, stepdad, and a North Carolinian. I drove back to Birmingham for a week each month to meet with UAB colleagues and to keep my dream home on the lake knowing that someday I would have to sell it, probably sooner rather than later.

I began to network in North Carolina and develop Support Team Trainings across the state so that I could stay close to home and not travel across the country.

But the financial stress of paying two mortgages took its toll in the form of a hospitalization in April 2005 that served as my wake-up call. I thought I was having a heart attack. Two days of tests in CCU at UNC Hospital yielded nothing definitive.

Mary made the accurate diagnosis quickly . . . and I eventually knew. “Just stress,” I heard myself say. Of course, “stress” can kill you. It was clear that we needed to simplify our lives and live in one state in one house and be a family together. I assumed it was time to grieve and sell the lake house.

And so we began to make our next big family decision—where shall we live?

Much to my surprise, the kids favored living on the lake and leaving where they had lived for half their lives. Schools were explored, numbers were crunched, advantages and disadvantages were discussed. A family pow wow resulted in the Alabama nod. Miraculously the Chapel Hill house sold in the first week without a realtor.

On 11 July 2005 our family is moving to Smith Lake in North Alabama.
Lake home pictures.

I could not have dreamed this scenario just 30 months ago. At that time, I was making peace with the fact that I was probably going to live alone for the rest of my life.

And today, I will be living in my dream house on the lake that I thought I had lost, working in the job that I love, and most of all having a wife and family that I’ve wanted all of my life.

It is more than I deserve.

And herein is the lesson for me—Decide what’s most important and make the changes to reflect that priority. For me, I choose family and relationships.

My heart is full. This is grace. What a gift!

Thank you God.

We are consolidating two households into one, and it’s three days before the movers show up.

I’m a hoarder, my wife is a purger. . . thank God. If we were the same, we’d have too much stuff or nothing at all.

My hoarding focuses primarily on cell phones and more accessories and cords than you can imagine. I have a hard time throwing some of these things out.

These things still work. Of course, I never use them anymore.

And so why do I want to hold onto something that I never use?

Good question.

It’s simply more baggage to move to a closet in another house.

It reminds me of baggage that serves no useful purpose in the dark corners of my mind. Old beliefs, tired grudges, worn out ways of thinking that never have worked that well come to think of it.

Ok, breathe deeply Malcolm. Give it away or throw it away . . . but don’t hold on to it.

Maybe I can learn to let go of stuff that no longer serves a useful purpose . . . on the outside, as well as the inside .

I’ll be 50 in two days. I think its about time.

Today is a significant life passage for me. I am 50 years old.

I am thankful. I have a wife, family, home, job, and life that I love. I have a small circle of very good friends and I have many acquaintances. I feel like my life has meaning, and yet I believe there is so much more still to do. I am thankful for my health.

I’ve had so many good things happen in my life. I had the opportunity to play college football in front of thousands. I graduated from college and seminary, and even ran a marathon. I’ve developed a lot of programs that have made a difference even if for a brief time. Some of these folks have been divorced, widowed, grieving, jobless, elderly, or had health concerns like AIDS, cancer, Alzheimer’s, and many others.

I’ve done many foolish things like worked too much early in my life and kept too many feelings to myself that laid the foundation for a divorce after sixteen years. I have hurt people with my actions or inactions. I am sorry.

I am more aware today that I, like everyone, will die. I do not mean this in any kind of morose way. In fact, this is a new gift in my life. Instead of assuming I will always have time to do things, hopefully I am becoming more intentional how I want to live each day.

So what has had the biggest impact on my life and what do I want my legacy to be?

I have been fortunate to be loved. I had two biological parents who believed in me and always encouraged me . I have a sister who has been steadfast in her support of me. I’ve had a stepmother for 38 years who has made a difference in my life. I’ve had two “adopted parents” in Harry and Ina Durham who have nurtured me and stood with me in good as well as hard times .

I want to love my wife and two stepchildren, and those closest to me in a way that leaves no doubt in their mind that they too are loved.

I want to work to build community and connection for people who hunger for it.

There are three things I believe about God today:
1. God is always with me and never leaves me alone.
2. God will give me strength to get through whatever happens.
3. God can take what does happen and work for good in my life if I am open to it.

More, later.

There were two water fountains at the park near where I grew up.

One was cold, clean, and refreshing. The sign above it said “White.”

The other fountain looked as though it had never been cleaned, and dispersed warm water on sweltering days. The sign above it said “Colored.”

One day, when no one was looking, I drank from the Colored water fountain to see what it was like and quickly spat out the water that was almost hot.

And even though I was a little boy, I knew deep within my soul, “Everyone deserves a cold drink of water.”

You see, I was born in Selma, raised in Montgomery, and attended high school in Birmingham, 1955-1973. This was the heart of the Civil Rights movement in the U.S.

I also learned a song as a child in Sunday School during those tumultous years in the South:

“Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

Today, the signs of color and discrimination have been exchanged for new signs that declare that it is ok to act unjustly to persons who are gay, or to women (especially in the church), or persons living with HIV/AIDS, or to persons living in countries like Sudan.

I still believe everyone deserves a cold drink of water.
_____________________________________________

"Injustice
anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."  Dr. Martin Luther King,
Jr., Letter from Birmingham Jail, April 16, 1963.

"Do
all you can with what you have in the time you have in the place you are." 


Nkosi Johnson, 12 year old boy in South Africa who became a spokesperson
for children with AIDS in Africa.  Nkosi died of AIDS in 2001.

I attended the funeral of my former father-in-law, Jim, today. I wondered if I should go to the funeral when I got the word about his death from a friend .

My pastor described my feelings well when she said to me, “I would imagine this is one of those things for which no rules are written down and awkwardness is everywhere.” Exactly.

Would I be a distraction to the family’s grief since we’ve had almost no contact in ten years? Would I be welcome? Would it make things harder for the family? Would it be hard for me? I decided to go anyway because I greatly respected and appreciated Jim and the way he lived his life.

I slipped in the church and took my seat. This is the same sanctuary where I was married to Jim’s oldest daughter 26 years ago almost to the day. Life moves so fast, doesn’t it? It has taken me places I could not have possibly foreseen—through good and difficult times.

Jim was a good husband (50 years), father, grandfather, and so much more. He lived his faith in an authentic, faith-filled way. He was always encouraging, kind, and patient with me for which I am very thankful. We shared the love of college football having both played at Auburn and Clemson.

As I sat by myself in the service I realized I was shivering the entire hour. Literally shaking. It was as though my body was letting go of something that I thought I had let go of years earlier.

When the service ended, I wasn’t sure what to do. Slip out the side door quietly, or speak to the family that I had rarely seen in a decade?

I breathed a prayer for guidance. I decided to stand in line and at least speak to my former mother-in-law, Judy. I hugged her neck, and told her I was sorry for her loss, and that I wanted her to know how thankful I am for having had her and Jim in my life.

I walked over to my former wife whom I had scarcely said more than a couple of sentences to in a decade, opened my arms and hugged her. I said with tears welling in my eyes and my voice shaking, “I want you to know how proud I am of who you are, and what you are doing with your life.” And I meant it. She is a respected sociologist in religion, a prolific writer, skilled researcher, and creative college professor.

I moved on to find her two sisters, their husbands and children, her cousins and extended friends. I was so thankful each treated me with kindness, hugs, and interest in how my life is going. I tried to catch up on what has happened in their lives. Toddlers I knew were now teenagers. These were the people that I used to call family. I shook the hand of my former wife’s husband and looked him in the eye and wished him well.

I am aware that I have moved on with my life in so many ways even before today. I cannot express in words the love I have for my wife, Mary Sullivan, and my teenage children, Brendan and Kiki who have welcomed me into their lives with open arms. And today I was reminded again that working through the grief of a divorce has many steps over many years.

One lesson I am trying to learn once again is to be fully present wherever I am. Today is what matters. Tomorrow will matter only when it arrives. Pay attention Malcolm, pay attention!

The theme of Jim’s funeral was taken from a wonderful old Christian hymn called “It Is Well With My Soul.”

And as I left, I thanked God that something significant was happening in my soul as I told Jim goodbye.

It’s hard to describe. Peace? Gratitude? Letting go? Grace comes in so many ways, even when we are saying goodbye. And in the process, I too realized that my soul really is well, too.

Goodbye Jim, and thank you.