Don "Known, Needed, Loved"
Photography by Randy Bacon
My name is Don and I hope you see a theme that is intrinsic and evident throughout my journey through life so far. As much as I seek to avoid telling you a story that resembles a sermon, greater is my desire to remain truthful, real & loyal to that theme that has characteristically steered my journey to where I’m at today…
I was raised going to a Baptist Church and thought of myself as always being a Christian. My parents strayed from church and their walk which left me to interpret God, the meaning of life, marriage, and many other things, as best as I could with what I had been provided. I did what I thought I was supposed to, in that I lived my life on my terms and turned to God during times of helplessness, hopelessness, or any situation I couldn’t resolve on my own, which created overwhelming anxiety and a sense of no direction. Then I became angry and frustrated when it seemed he wasn't answering. My conditional turning to God continued in my life until one day as I found myself in my fourth failing marriage, estranged from my two older children & failing my two younger children partially due to a toxic lifestyle of actively abusing alcohol to escape the painful life I had created for myself and once again contemplating suicide.
Allow me to provide a little perspective. Although I made it through school having no clue what profession I wanted to pursue, the inner need to serve others and do whatever I could to help those around me led me to the police academy and a successful career in law enforcement that lasted fifteen years, five of those years as a D.A.R.E. Officer, and two of those years I received awards for M.A.D.D Officer of the Year. The relevance of these facts surface as you continue to read my story. My law enforcement career spanned from 1993 to 2008. I then continued to help & serve in the healthcare field and also appreciated ten years as a Security Specialist on the Missouri-1 Disaster Medical Team. I don’t share my pedigree to boost my own ego, rather to provide perspective to the weight of the trauma I experienced when the bottom fell out of my life.
Life began to spiral out of control for me in 2008 and I hit bottom in that very same year. I was fired from my job and ran into multiple closed doors when I tried to bounce back. I was unfaithful to my wife. A very long & painful battle for custody modification ended with a phone call from my attorney with a harsh realization that I would have to accept going from being a part-time father, to a part-time, part-time father. As my problems mounted, I desperately sought relief from the weight of the pain and sense of failure piling up. I began to believe that life would never get better as I found myself facing struggles and challenges that I simply did not have the tools to employ to help me cope. Eventually, I just wanted to stop waking up and living in pain, hurt and sinking further into a life of failure. I faced multiple legal challenges because I was trying to remain functional as I slipped further & further into alcohol abuse. I was arrested multiple times for DWI and to this very day, I am so thankful I never physically hurt anyone in a horrific accident.
Even though I knew I should not drink and drive, and even though I knew that alcohol was not the answer to my problems and would or could ever solve my problems or lead me back into the lifestyle I once had. I quickly realized I took for granted most of the benefits of life I used to enjoy, on many levels. The pain and hurt was so great, my days soon revolved around doing whatever it took to not feel. The only time I couldn’t feel was when I was sleeping. Therefore, my alcohol abuse became a continuous cycle of drinking until I passed out, and when I woke, I would just continue the cycle. For the better part of three years, this was how I lived, on a couch, with no purpose or goals in life. This pattern couldn’t continue forever and for me and where I was mentally, there was only one way out.
On March 9th, 2011 the enemy had poured so many toxic lies into me and I was convinced that an alcoholic who was a poor excuse for a father, an even worse husband, who had just wrecked his wife's Mercedes; had no place in this world. I was at the point where I knew that I needed to stop ruining the lives of those who loved me and if I really loved them, I would do them justice by ending my life. Yes, the enemy had some really good rational lies that helped me rationalize my actions when I pulled the trigger that fateful day. I found my service weapon as the tool to take care of business. My mind was so unstable that I had decided not to shoot myself in the head because I didn’t want my children to find that mess; seems logical, until you consider that I had concluded that that mess was too much, but that finding their father dead was okay. That afternoon I shot myself in the stomach and coupled with severe intoxication, I quickly lost consciousness and breathed my last breath...or so I thought.
A week later I awoke in the hospital with very little memory of what took place, but the overwhelming feeling of guilt & shame covered me thickly. The surgeon that saved my life walked in the room and looked around to as if to make sure no one else was there as he looked me in the eyes and said, "Look, I don't say this to people but someone was looking out for you that day. When they radioed and described what they were lifeflighting in, I thought for sure, you would be dead on my table. When I cut you open, I looked for damage but somehow the bullet missed every vital organ, vein, vessel and ureter. You nicked your bowel and I had to cut out about six inches. You’ll have a colostomy for about twelve months and then it can be reversed. You’ll be fine.” He started to walk out of the room and then stopped just before reaching for the door, turned, and said, “What I don’t get is how a 9mm bullet that leaves the barrel at 1200 feet per second travels less than four inches and stops before taking out your spine.”
As the tears came and the guilt and shame were slowly washed away, I clearly saw that God chose to let me know and make it very real to me that he was in fact very real and very much alive and at work in our lives. I had always heard stories of God and had an idea of who he was, but that never really meant anything to me personally and with vivid reality. This was the day God chose to reveal just how real he was and just how huge of a role he was to play in my life’s journey. He also knew that for me, I would need to be shown all of who he was in doses. This was my first real life dose of God and it was surreal and unbelievable. The reality of God didn’t miraculously fix every issue in my life that was the source of pain and hurt, so as you are probably guessing, while recovering from my injuries, I began to abuse alcohol again.
The toxic and destructive alcohol filled lifestyle resulted in yet another DWI arrest. This time I was charged with a felony and the weight and seriousness of life, which should have registered a long time prior to this, became very, very real & I was terrified. Ironically, I was arrested in the jurisdiction where I was formally a deputy sheriff and upon being booked into jail, I was immediately placed into protective custody. Protective custody for a cop in a jail filled with criminals sounds like a good thing on the surface, however, the reality is that I was all alone in a jail cell for twenty-three hours a day with nothing to do but get into my own head. Although I was let out for one hour a day, it was usually at 2 or 3 in the morning so I couldn’t call my children, family, or anyone.
After about four months into a seven month period of being incarcerated, I was standing in my cell one day when a guy came around with a cart of books. He stopped at my cell and asked me if I wanted one. Even though I was extremely bored and desperately searching for something to do to occupy my time, I really did not like to read. So, I looked at him and asked him to give me the smallest book he had. He handed me a small book that was around three-hundred pages called, “The Shack.” The day came when I was forcing myself to read and I came to the part in the story where the main character was speaking with an angel. Prior to this point in the story, his four year old daughter was kidnapped, raped & murdered when he took his kids on a family camping trip. As he is speaking with the angel, she points out that he has two children left but he can only save one and must choose. He tells her, I love them both, I can’t choose. She insists that he must choose. He begins to break down crying and insisting he loves both of his children and cannot choose. She reveals to him - neither can God. We are all his children and he loves us all. I suddenly felt like I was punched in my spiritual gut as I suddenly realized from this story, that God loves me as much as he loves the Pastor behind the pulpit, even with all of my screw ups and mistakes.
I hit my knees and cried out to God in desperation and feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I was raw and real and honest in realizing that forty-three years of my best planning lead me down a path that ended in a jail cell, removed from society and my loved ones, and being of no use to anyone, especially myself. It was during those key moments of realization where I truly understood that even though I thought I was saved and walking in this world as a follower of Christ, without the genuine surrender of my control that leads to fervent submission to Christ’s will and purpose for my life, true salvation was questionable.
Even though there were no magical moments and the sky never split open with angels singing my name, without a doubt, things began to change. Shortly after, I was told that my brother had decided to post my bond and I was able to begin my merge back into society. Although I hadn’t noticed right away, I realized a few weeks later that I had not thought about consuming any alcohol. As my life slowly improved and the problems and pain dissipated, I had no need to numb out by abusing alcohol. I also began to examine just what went wrong along the way that lead me into that season in a valley. What I discovered was the theme I was speaking of initially. I was missing many of the psychological and social tools that are gained in life through parenting moments and from the benefit of having that vital spiritual foundation to always fall back on.
Although there are absolutely life challenges that come with being labeled a convicted felon, I continue to find that if I accept ownership of the control and choices I had that lead to that label, then no one else can continue to pick up that label and throw it in my face. I’ve also come to realize that this world often convinces us to hide our mistakes, cover our scars of life and even pretend to be someone we are not. However, following that plan never leads to genuine success & fulfillment that results from our true character and life experiences. When we courageously share our life’s journey in raw, honest detail, what happens is your story becomes someone else’s life preserver and even the springboard that launches them into their intended life journey.
I am living an incredibly fulfilling life, working part time in the medical field while launching a venture to travel as an inspirational speaker. My life is full of friends and rebuilt family relationships as a result of my journey. I have found the inner purpose of my life and I face each day with anticipation and expectations of meeting new people to share the good news I’ve discovered. I hold no reservations in taking the opportunity to begin investing in those relationships to eagerly shed truth into the dark, shadowy lies constantly heard in this world. Confidently sharing with every person I meet that they are known, they are needed & they are loved.
Life is the gift of the opportunity to set out on an adventurous journey to discover your “why” and to pursue that courageously with full confidence that there is no “how” that can stop you.
Story Update: August 2020
A Perfect Plan
It’s been almost two years since I shared my story at 7 Billions Ones. I am so grateful for Randy Bacon and everyone involved with the movement. There is power that can lead to a pathway of healing, restoration and purpose when we share our stories. Since I was about 8 years old, there has been a constant conversation in my mind trying to convince me just how valuable I was, how important my life was, and the potential I had to make a positive impact in the world. For some reason I didn’t listen or I didn’t believe it to be true. I knew the miracles that I lived through so well I was brought to tears in wonder and awe. I knew the incredible gift I had been given. Even in the process of reliving the pain, failure, and feelings of hopelessness in my story as I wrote it out, I still wasn’t sure why I was doing it. I wasn’t convinced it meant anything to anyone, especially my family and loved ones that were hurt so deeply because of it.
The moment that the spark of hope inside me began to grow and the volume of my internal narrative grew louder came when I was notified that my story was accepted. I can remember that day like it was yesterday. I read that email over and over like I was a sixth grader who just received a note from my crush. Not because I didn’t understand it, but because there was a narrative change taking place each time I read it. Not the narrative of my story, but the narrative of the value and meaning within it and whether I believed it or not. My own story and its meaning hit differently when I heard Randy, Amy and Larissa speak to it. I’ve read that the greatest single factor that leads to low self-esteem is never experiencing unconditional love. For most of my life, I didn’t like who I was and was convinced that no one else did either. Not liking myself and believing no one else did, didn’t bother me as bad as not knowing why? Because the question was never answered, I carried it with me everywhere and it was heavy and often crippling. The day I received validation from the team at 7 Billion Ones, was pivotal for me emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. For the first time that I can remember, I was faced with an internal narrative that conflicted with the reality I was experiencing with my new found friends. The love, compassion, care, understanding, empathy and value they expressed was foreign to me. It was unconditional. Almost as though I was worthy of being accepted and treated that way all along. Because I received love, validation, and encouragement from some amazing people that hardly knew me, for the first time I saw the ugliness and sadness I had been carrying around most of my life. I think it’s worthy to mention the authenticity and transparency in the way I was cared for. You see the behavior and words are important and relevant, but the catalyst that revealed the toxic lies in my past narrative was expressed through Randy, through Amy, and through Larissa as though they were created that way. Yes, I fully realize the irony in that statement. I am so excited to share that I am so grateful for the journey I’ve been on since that monumental day. A journey that wrecked me when I understood that that’s exactly how they were created, and so was I.
One of life’s greatest gifts is the benefit of hindsight. We always have the option and opportunity to examine the places, people, and circumstances we have come from. I draw the greatest comfort and confidence when I do just that. When I intentionally examine my past seeking to celebrate the victories and grow from the challenges, there is no way I can convince myself or anyone else that it was all coincidental. I don’t have enough faith to believe that. Up to this very moment, and every moment yet to come, my feet, my heart, and my spirit have been set on a path designed for me.
Why I chose to title my story Known, Needed, Loved.
I just wanted to be known. I went from pursuing selfish and inwardly focused goals, to wandering lost, bouncing from circumstance, situations and relationships that I stayed in as long as they made me feel good and gave me the illusion of being alive. It wasn’t until I found myself at the end of my self-guided goals, some met and some not, that my eyes were opened and my vision began to clear. Like a newborn baby, at first I could only see what was bold, vivid and right in front of me. The miracle of surviving a suicide attempt left me with an intense perspective of life. A miracle so evident that the trauma surgeon who saved my life, refused to take credit for it. In his brief explanation when I woke in ICU, he simply pointed to the ceiling. When I reached the end of my road that I planned and chose to go down and found no purpose or desire to go on, it was in that moment I found myself facing death but I never wanted to live more. In my divine rescue I was known. Rescue would not have been possible had He not known me first. In my impossible survival I was known. No successful intervention or quality act of care would have worked had I not been known and cared for by each and every person that helped. As the days passed, relationships were being restored because my family, friends, and loved ones knew me. We all want to be known. I am known.
I had a deep desire to be needed. The moment I woke in the hospital, the weight of my last memory, believing that my life, everything I had done and everything I could possibly do was meaningless and the world, my children, my mother, my wife, everyone would be better off without me began to suffocate me emotionally. But it didn’t last. A voice whispered to my heart, “LIE!” I knew in that moment that I was needed. My mother needed me. Who else was going to fulfill the hopes and dreams she had for me? My brother needed me. Who else was going to fill the shoes and carry on the conversations that only a brother can? My children needed me. Who else was going to be the dad they needed and deserved? Who else was going to walk my daughters down the aisle and give them away? Who else was going to tell my oldest son how proud of him I was? Who else was going to teach my youngest son how to fish? This world needed me. When we are created and set upon our path in life, we are needed to walk out our purpose. Like a small piece of a larger puzzle, we are needed to complete the finished masterpiece. We all want to be needed. I am needed.
I so desperately wanted to be loved. When we are emotionally unhealthy, we can unintentionally limit the love in our life. Everyone longs to feel loved unconditionally, blinded from seeing that we are usually the ones who apply the conditions. Not always. We’ve heard stories of the strict, unwavering father who expresses disappointment and withholds affection when his son delivers a subpar performance at the ball game on Saturday night. This boy feels as though dad’s love is conditional on his performance. My experience, although different, caused deep emotional wounds. These wounds became the foundation of toxicity upon which every relationship in my life began.
It was a beautiful summer day as we were getting ready to sit down for lunch. My mom and dad were talking about work and my brother and I were racing to make our plate and inhale our lunch so we could head back out to play. I was just 7 or 8 years old and was all boy. A quick spin, a loose grip on a glass pitcher and poor reflexes caused me to drop the pitcher. It shattered on the kitchen floor.
The yelling that ensued was so loud and with such contempt, I can’t even remember what was said. Even unremembered words hurt. The good news is the yelling didn’t last long. It was quickly replaced with a barrage of open handed swats to my backside as I ran to my room in a futile attempt at escape. There I sat, ugly crying with an empty stomach trying to make sense of what just happened. I couldn’t get past the overwhelming feeling of shame simply because it was an accident. But now matter how bad I felt and how much I wanted to right the wrong, that wasn’t an option. Even in the midst of that misery, I had no reason to question whether my parents loved me or not. I never questioned if anyone loved me. I just assumed they did because at some point I understood that was what they were supposed to do.
Until…
The impact of what would happen over the next few minutes would prove to be significant concerning my spiritual, emotional, and relational health. As I sat on my bed, the weight of my punishment was inescapable. Suddenly, I heard a loud crash come from the kitchen. I ran out and saw my father standing over what used to be the glass coffee pot. That coffee pot lay shattered on the kitchen floor.
There stood my dad, having just dropped the coffee pot and there I was trying to contain my nervous excitement. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of punishment he would receive. As I stood there, my thoughts that were focused outwardly slowly began to shift inward like I was slowly being engulfed in dark clouds of confusion and fear. I was frozen in disbelief and misunderstanding. There was no yelling. There was no spanking. Nothing happened. No conversation. No explanation. I wanted to know why punishment never came or at least when I could expect a thorough explanation of what happened? Why isn’t someone talking about this?
Hours passed as I laid frozen on my bed trying to understand. I slowly began to make sense of it all because I needed to justify what happened. The conclusion I came to said If both of us broke something, both made huge messes but I was the only one punished, the only reason that made sense was that I was a bad person. I was unaware of just how bad I was until that day. Not only was I bad, but I must also be unworthy of value. If I was worthy, I would have received an explanation. And of course, there’s no way that someone as unworthy as me deserved to be loved. Now it made sense, the treatment I received was a direct reflection on the fact that I’m not loved because I don’t deserve to be.
Once these thoughts began, they didn’t stop. They didn’t stop until I found the truth about love 34 years later. We can become very skilled at doing whatever it takes to survive. For 34 years I became a survivor, faking it in every relationship I was in. I knew that relationships were based on love. I also knew that I wasn’t loved because I didn’t deserve it. It’s still difficult to think that for 34 years I never liked who I saw in the mirror. Based on the untruth of a toxic narrative established in the mind and heart of an 8 year old boy, he wasn’t worthy of love and therefore didn’t receive it, even from himself.
When Jesus finally caught up to me in a jail cell, somehow I knew that He knew my deepest hurts and pain. I wasn’t sure how or when but I knew healing was coming. I just didn’t know that it was coming in the way of truth in who God is. God is love.
The level of pain and hurt that comes with not knowing or receiving the love that every other human has is inexplicable. A lifetime of convincing myself that others did not love me because I simply didn’t deserve it, kept me bound up in anguish wanting to love so much, believing I never could. If love could be carried in a bubble, we could absolutely give it without ever knowing it. But that’s just not what love is or how it’s meant to be shared. Scripture tells us that God is love. Love begins with God and comes from God. The full blessing of receiving and giving love can only be experienced through the human condition. We love out of overflow, and in order to have an overflow of love, we must first receive it.
If you hear nothing else or take nothing else away from this story, this is what I want you to read, absorb, and believe with all of your heart. Know this; no matter how much we need and desire to receive the love that God pours out to us, we are incapable of accepting and receiving His love until and unless we believe we are worthy of it. The truth that escaped me for 34 years is that we are in fact worthy of His love and it has nothing to do with who I am or the sum of all of my mistakes. (Sigh!) I can take comfort in knowing that I am worthy of being loved by God because of who He is.
Earlier I mentioned that we can limit love. For 34 years I limited love because it was foreign to me. I limited love in my relationships with my parents, my brother, my children, my spouse(s), every relationship was limited. I found myself looking into the face of my daughter as tears ran down her cheeks, telling her I loved her and wanting nothing more than for her to believe me. It hurt so much to know that I wanted her to believe me but even I didn’t believe me. That’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Because God is love and He delights in reconciliation and restoration of relationships, He makes available to us a path of redemption. It's been 9 years since I held the crying face of that little girl in my hands, wanting desperately for her to know that I loved her. A trip is scheduled for this September. I’m excited to meet her husband and my grandson for the very first time. I’ll hold her cheeks once again only this time I’ll be able to confidently tell her just how much I love her. So thankful to continue on this journey with my new understanding of who God is and how valuable I am to Him.
When I begin to see that my life is about something so much bigger than me, the tragedies from my past became testimonies of God’s power and glory; my hopeless messes became empowering messages of impact and purpose; finally the deep pain that I suffered became my platform that points to the hope intertwined throughout my story in Jesus. God never wastes a hurt. My eyes have been opened to the relationships where I am known. Clarity came down, revealing that I am needed. I had been told my whole life I was loved but my unbelief blocked my blessing. It’s not possible to know a love you don’t believe in. I never knew I needed a catalyst to ignite and establish my belief. Words can never express the level of gratitude I have for the 7 Billion Ones movement and the incredible individuals that pour so much heart and soul into everything they do to make the magic happen. We are rescued to rescue. Love isn’t a story with a happy ending. Love is a story that never ends. You have a story and your story matters. Someone in this world wants to hear it. Someone in this world needs to hear it.
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