STILL STRONG
THE STORY
Not untouched. Not unbroken. But still strong.
PONTIAC, MICHIGAN
I was born above a little bait-and-tackle shop in Pontiac, Michigan. My parents were just kids themselves, seventeen years old trying to raise one. My mom ran the shop downstairs while my dad worked nights at the GM plant and trapped minnows at dawn. That small apartment over the store was home, and though I didn't know it then, those early years were laying the foundation for everything I'd one day become.
GREENVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA
When I was five, my baby brother lived only a few hours after birth. A few short days later we buried him. I have a very clear memory at the graveside looking up at my parents' grief-stricken faces and wanting to take away their pain. The very next day we packed up what we owned, and moved to Greenville, South Carolina, where my dad answered a call to ministry and attended Bible college full-time. My mom stayed home with us. Even though nobody talked about money, I knew we didn't have much.
My lunches looked different than the other kids at school. My baths were taken in the same water as my siblings'.
More than once, I dug through couch cushions and car seats for spare change just so my dad could put gas in the family car and make it to class.
Every now and then, when the cupboards were empty and dinner really was our last meal, we'd wake to groceries waiting at the front door. God shows up like that, quietly but faithfully. Those moments stayed with me.
Christmases were simple. Sometimes we negotiated for a tree at the last minute so we could afford it. We'd string popcorn with needle and thread. And as a boy, I knew we were poor but I never felt unloved.
FORT MYERS, FLORIDA
At age ten, we moved again, this time to Fort Myers, Florida, where my dad planted a church and my mom homeschooled us. Our family of seven lived in a two-bedroom, one-bath home with a converted carport for my parents' room. It was tight. But it was ours.
As soon as I was old enough to hold a shovel, I worked mowing lawns, laying sod, backfilling pools, laboring on a stucco crew and framing houses. The carpentry trade became more than a job; it became a way of life. There's something honest about showing up to a bare slab and leaving with a roof over it. At fourteen, I learned what it meant to sweat, to build, to stand back at the end of the day and say, "I did that."
BUILDING A LIFE
I tried college at eighteen, mostly because my parents wanted me to, but my heart wasn't there. I wanted to work. I wanted to build a life. I ended up getting kicked out before the first year was over and that's when my real life began.
I married the girl I fell in love with. Karen was eighteen; I was twenty. We built our first home with our own hands and started our family. Money was tight, work was heavy, but purpose was clear.
THE COMPANY
By thirty, I was running a framing company with nearly 100 employees, building thirty to forty houses a week. We were bringing in more money than I had ever imagined, but success exposed a truth I wasn't ready for:
I was a great worker.
I was a terrible manager.
The thing I built for freedom became a cage I couldn't escape.
So at thirty, I sold the company for $2 million.
SLOWING DOWN
For the first time in my life, everything slowed down. I bought a boat, spent catch up time with my kids. Even bought a small breakfast-and-lunch restaurant for the family to run together. We lived off investment income until 2008 hit.
Overnight, the economy crashed and the investments disappeared. The restaurant which was supposed to be a simple family project became our only income. In my desperation to keep it afloat, I compromised parts of myself, my joy, my peace and even pieces of my faith.
FINDING THE WAY BACK
Then, almost by accident, some of the men who used to work for me found me again. We started doing small framing jobs on the side and the business exploded. My wife was running the restaurant and the books for both companies, and I told her we had to choose.
So we sold the restaurant and when we did, I got my soul back.
Today, our family business is thriving. My children work alongside me. We frame homes, run a steel shop, build structures that will outlive us and have a small ranch where we host wedding venues. I finally have people I trust, loyal men and women who carry the weight with me. I have time with my children. I have time with my grandchildren. I have peace.
STILL STRONG
Above everything, I have gratitude, the kind that comes from knowing where you started, what you survived, and Who carried you through.
Still Strong isn't a slogan.
It's not something I wrote because it sounded good.
It's the story of my life.
Not untouched.
Not unbroken.
But still strong.
And if you're reading this, maybe that's your story too.