Pain as my teacher

I was an unplanned child, born to two love struck teenagers in Latrobe, a small city located amongst the factories and steel mills of southwestern Pennsylvania. My life has been deeply marked by instability, tragedy, and a plethora of setbacks. It sounds kind of morbid, but my earliest childhood memory consists of seeing a 21 year old man dressed in a red and blue checkered suit, lying in a casket on a cold November morning. That man was my father, and his death by the hands of a drunk driver would change the course of my life in many ways.

We moved around a lot, and our family had lots of financial challenges. We even lived in a small camper for several months with a few garbage bags full of our earthly possessions, after our house burnt to the ground in 1981. There were bouts of brokenness along the way including major illnesses, abuse, divorce, and enough shame and anxiety to last a lifetime.

Through it all, I was fortunate enough to have amazing grandparents, a few great mentors, and some outstanding teachers and coaches to help me along the way. I dedicated myself to sports, clung to my faith, and made some very important decisions very early on in my life. I would channel my disappointments and setbacks in life towards something meaningful and greater than myself.  I determined to find a way to serve people and help them process their hurts.  I learned that if I was going to heal from my own wounds, then I would need to play a part in helping others to heal from their own struggles.

I’ve come to realize that pain can be a gift if we choose to view it through the lens of love.  Mother Teresa once said, “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” I believe that pain without a purpose is suffering, but pain that is experienced with purpose is actually power.