Waiting Room

My two closest friends from home came by for a visit this past weekend. These guys stuck by me through this entire episode. Their wives are my ex-wife’s best friends. The three couples traveled together, spent holidays together, celebrated and mourned together.



When I was arrested they were there, not just for me, but for my wife and my sons. I got a little emotional the other day while they were here. I told them how much I appreciated what they did for me – and for my family. I also told them I’m not sure if the “old Larry” would have gone to the lengths they did to help me. I know the “new Larry” would. As bad as this experience has been, it has opened my eyes to a great deal. I’m not the pompous, self-absorbed ass I was in the past.


The guys filled me in on all of the happenings back in my hometown. They told me when I get out I can hold my head high. “People know you made a mistake, but they also know you’re a good man.”


A “good man”. Funny, but I never really felt like that pre-arrest. A lot has changed these past couple of years. My priorities, my outlook, my patience, have all changed for the better. My circumstances are much worse, but my faith is much stronger.


As I talked to my friends and told them about working with men in their 20s, 30s, and 40s who read at a third grade level, they looked surprised that impatient me could reach out to these guys.


Fact is, I was not a patient man, I liked things done now (at the latest) and I liked them done my way. That’s not me anymore.


In here patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s critical. And, surprisingly I’ve actually become patient. Shortly after my arrest, I was speaking to the jail chaplain. He was a kind man and he listened as I broke down and told him that I was in danger of (1) losing my wife and kids; (2) losing everything I had legitimately worked for for almost thirty years; (3) losing my freedom; and (4) losing my sanity.


He listened as I wept and went through my litany of fears. He then told me something that I’ve never forgotten. He said:


“I can’t tell you all that won’t happen. I can tell you God loves you and is with you. If you’re patient and trust Him all will work out as it should.”


It took me a long time to understand what he meant. But, every day thereafter I began reciting verse 14 from Psalm 27. “Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the Lord.”


I did in fact lose my wife and kids, all my worldly possessions, and my freedom. I didn’t, however, lose my sanity. I found instead, my soul.


After my friends left I wanted to write my ex-wife a letter. I wanted to tell her I still loved her deeply and missed her. I wanted to tell her that nothing compares to the loneliness I feel, that she was my soulmate and I will always hold her in my heart.


I wanted to write my sons and tell them what I’ve learned about people from helping the men in here. I wanted to tell them we are all interconnected; we can learn something from almost anyone; we are all children of God who deserve respect, and compassion and help. I wanted to tell them how much I loved them and their mother.


I didn’t write either letter. This wasn’t the time. For too long, I did things when I wanted to. If and when my ex wants to hear from me, I’ll know. If and when my kids want to know what I think, it will be clear to me.


For now, I wait patiently. I don’t have to rush things. I know all will work out as intended.