The Riches of my Rural Roots

I was born August 21, 1979 in Monticello, Utah, USA
Also known as the "Base of the Blues"

When it comes to obscure locales in the United States of America, it's tough to get more inconspicuous than my birthplace of Monticello, Utah.

Situated at the base of the Blue Mountains in the southeastern corner of the state, mingled in the "Four Corners" area of the Intermountain Western region of the country, Monticello has rarely boasted more than two thousand (2,000) residents since its founding in 1888 by four men (and their families), one of which (George A. Adams) is my great-great grandfather.   

I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and it was WONDERFUL!
At left with my older brother Joe (right) jeeping with our dad
in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

If you took a map of the Western United States and placed a dot on Salt Lake City, Denver, Albuquerque, Phoenix, and Las Vegas—and then circumscribed those five dots—you would essentially find Monticello smack in the middle of the circle, placing it a nearly five (5) hour drive from the nearest major metropolitan area in any direction.  

When I was growing up in Monticello in the 1980s and 90s, there were no traffic lights, no McDonald's, and no Wal-Mart—and to this day there is still no McDonalds or Wal-Mart, although the town does boast ONE traffic light!

If you wanted to eat at a chain restaurant or shop at Wally World, you had to drive an hour away to Cortez, Colorado. If you needed an advanced medical or dental procedure done, you had to drive two hours away to either Durango, Colorado or Farmington, New Mexico. And if you wanted to get to a major university or attend a professional sporting event, you were looking at a 4-5 hour drive.  

That's just the way life was! 

Bereft of city attractions, we'd go on drives up the
mountain for fun. With my sister Jessie.

For some, this is an unacceptable modus of living. For others, it is the only way to live!

For me, it was simply where I happened to enter the stage of life. And while it is unlikely that I would ever live in Monticello again, I wouldn't change anything about my birth or upbringing even if I could!

Indeed, I am proud of my roots and thankful for the exceeding riches that were made abundantly available to me by virtue of my rural upbringing. Moreover, one of the joys of my life is to return to my home town and county, excursions which always serve to "restore my soul."

The purpose of today's article is to share what some of those riches are, and to point out the ways in which they positively influenced and otherwise imbued my development as a self-action leader.

Natural rock arches and other unique sandstone formations
are common in the "Canyon Country" where I grew up

While Monticello may suffer from an extreme lack of urban amenities, it is inversely endowed with a bounteous cornucopia of nature's wonders.

Nestled at the base of the Blue Mountains, which rise to nearly 12,000 feet above sea level, and located within a few hours drive of numerous state and national parks, monuments, forests, and other geographic wonders, you would be hard-pressed to find its equal in terms of its plentiful access to the natural world with all of its enriching, ennobling, and picturesque accoutrements. As a result, residents of Monticello need merely glance out their home windows—or walk outside their front door—to access visual, aural, and olfactory endowments that city dwellers often have to drive many hours to access.  

Dam/lake construction and mud fight
with my cousin Preston Bunker (left).

I grew up smack dab in the middle of all of these wonders.

Moreover, I was uniquely blessed because my dad was a landowner, which meant that instead of a traditional, small, fenced backyard that fit neatly behind my home, my backyard spanned hundreds of acres—and later on thousands of acres—of forested desert hills and meadows complete with rivers, ponds, deer, rabbits, chipmunks, etc. It was an absolute wonderland for a young lad growing up, and I put the land to good use hiking, running, camping, exploring, tree-climbing, swimming/wading, mud-fighting, fire-building, shooting, hunting, four-wheeling, fort-building, apple picking, group dating, etc. 

Camping with my brother Joe and our dad.

I don't know how many hours or adventures I enjoyed on "The Land" over the years, but the number extended well into the triple-digits, and I deeply cherish the memories of those many excursions. And this does not even count the trips to the mountains, lakes, canyons, State and National parks, monuments, forests, and other wondrous locations scintillating to the eye and pleasing to the spirit. From Boy Scout activities and camps to family trips into the mountains and deserts; and from adventures with friends to excursions with girls (group dates), we didn't waste our opportunities—nor did we take them for granted.

My adventures in the great outdoors included: camping, hiking, swimming, fishing, hunting, shooting, rappelling, sledding/tubing, cross-country skiing, four-wheeling, snowmobiling, horseback riding, mountain biking, off-road jeeping, feeding and caring for animals, farming, gardening, kayaking, canoeing, motor boating, water skiing, and cliff jumping, among other endeavors I might be forgetting.

My own personal garden on a lot adjacent our home.

All of these activities provided me with many rich memories that were almost always positive. There was the odd exception of course, like the time a bunch of us teenagers from church went tubing in the wintertime and one of the boys (not me) ended up breaking his hip when he hit a stationary object on his way down the hill—a story for another time, perhaps even in NEXT WEEK'S ARTICLE.

My dad was an adventurer at heart and he LOVED to hit to open road. I was fortunate to accompany him on many travel excursions as a result. Sometimes these events were short trips lasting less than a day and would involve going shooting, or visiting a ghost town, or just enjoying the beautiful countryside and stopping for a candy bar and soda at a convenient store along the way.  

REX Buckley and his namesake, Jordan REX

Other trips were more involved and would last for several days or even a week or more. Three such opportunities enabled me to cross significant swaths of the United States with my Dad, enabling us to visit a host of historical sites and other points of interest, including large cities (Denver, Chicago, Cleveland, New York City, Washington D.C., St. Louis, etc.) and other famous locales like Yellowstone National Park, Redwood National Forest, and the Gateway Arch.  

As a little boy, I greatly admired my Dad's ability to build and develop things. As a result, I became a loyal "Daddy's boy" who sought to be by the side of my father every chance I got. I especially enjoyed accompanying him on road trips, visits to the hardware store, or when he was engaged in a construction or other work project. It made me feel important to be by my dad's side at such moments during my childhood.

The construction of the Loyd's Lake earthen dam in Monticello
in the mid-1980s.  Dad's brown CJ-7 jeep in the foreground.

In addition to his love for building things himself, Dad also took enormous interest in the construction projects of others; and the bigger the better! Whether it was a home, subdivision, building, skyscraper, bridge, dam, or something else, Dad took interest if it was under construction. The two of us were particularly fascinated by the construction of earthen dams—and loved to visit dam sites under construction to observe the progress that was being made thereon.

In the mid-1980s, an earthen dam was built just outside our hometown of Monticello to capture snow melt runoff from the nearby Blue Mountains for community use throughout the year. During the dam's construction, Dad would drive up every few days to check on its progress and I would often accompany him. After the dam had been completed and began to fill up, we would place little rock cairns a few feet away from the water's edge and then return a few days later to see if the lake had risen sufficiently to cover up our cairn. Such was our makeshift method of measuring the progress of the new lake's steady rise. These were good times that produced cherished memories to last forever.  

Donning the English Bobby's hat my dad brought

home from England in the mid 1960s.

My dad was an extraordinary man in possession of an incredibly curious mind, a sharp intellect, and an eclectic array of hobbies and interests. Despite his rural upbringing and career in construction, he was also well-traveled and highly educated. In addition to being a General Contractor, he also spent two decades in the formal classroom teaching middle and high school English. He also spent two years in England as a young missionary and returned home with a treasure trove of souvenirs, including an English Bobby's helmet, the Complete Works of William Shakespeare—bound in leather and published in the late nineteenth century—and an array of other literary masterpieces penned by great British writers and poets of yesteryear. 

Knowing how much I love these books of his, Dad decided a few years back at Christmas time to gift me poetic anthologies of Longfellow and Wordsworth—published in 1912 and 1888, respectively—which now stand as two of the most cherished volumes in my thousand-plus book personal library. With degrees in English and communications—and being an avid reader of books, news, and other material throughout his life—Dad was without question one of the most gifted and stimulating conversationalists I have ever known. On road trips, we would talk for hours on end with hardly a pause or break in our dialogue. These conversations were intellectually stimulating and uplifting to my mind and heart.

Dad was also incredibly inquisitive. I discovered this along the pathways of our many excursions together, for whenever we would meet other people, he would pepper them with an array of questions in a sincere desire to learn all he could about their trade, profession, education, background, interests, and expertise. It was clear he loved to learn and on our longer trips, we would keep track of new vocabulary words we were learning together, in conjunction with trip statistics such as miles covered each day. 

With Mama after moving to the city.

When I was seven (7) years old, we moved to the city (suburban Phoenix, AZ). During this time, I shifted to become more of a "Mama's boy." This was not hard to do because my mother was an incredibly loving parent and person who was as extraordinary as my dad in her own unique ways. Aside from raising seven children to successful adulthood, who in-turn bore her and my dad 31 grandchildren, my mom was also a skilled craftswoman and a successful saleswoman, store owner, church and community leader, actress, vocalist, teacher, artist, writer, college graduate, and entrepreneur.

Indeed, the combined talents and abilities of my parents amounts to a staggering reservoir of personal and professional gifts and I credit them openly and appreciatively for passing such a treasure trove of genetic and mimetic gifts on to me and my brothers and sisters, all seven of whom have been profoundly influenced and impacted thereby.    

After seven years in Arizona, we returned to Monticello. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I would remain close to both my father and my mother. This was due in part to the onset of OCD in seventh grade, which stunted much of my social growth and development throughout my high school years. One blessing of this social retardation was my maintenance of close relationships—even dear friendships—with both of my parents, with whom I spent a great deal of time as both a child and adolescent.

Helping my dad and brothers get wood up the mountain.

In addition to the wonderful outdoor adventures I enjoyed growing up in Monticello, I was further blessed with opportunities to engage in hard, productive, manual labor. As previously mentioned, Dad was a general contractor and an ambitious man by nature. As his fifth and youngest son, I was blessed with many opportunities to work hard and expend a great deal of sweat equity by his side; and it was good for me—and my future!

These manual labor opportunities included: gardening, weeding, mowing, pruning, cultivating, and construction. Aside from yard work at our own home and that of my paternal grandparents, my dad also owned an apartment complex and my brothers and I were responsible for tending the yards.

At home with five trampolines set up; four (4) of which were for sale.
(I am in the front center wearing a navy shirt and turned to the side)

As you can see, Dad was more than just a general contractor; he was a rural renaissance man! Among his many different vocations and interests, he was unquestionably an entrepreneur. For example, one year, he decided he would sell trampolines; and guess who his setup crew was? 

You guessed it: his five sons! 

I don't remember how long this particular project lasted, but I do remember helping my brothers set up a number of trampolines for various villagers around town—and beyond! I was not strong enough at the time to be able to stretch the springs like my brothers, but I would still tag along and help out wherever I could.  

Building a log cabin with my dad and brothers in the summer of 1985
(I am on the far right [third from right] wearing a navy shirt)

Speaking of tagging along and helping out wherever I could, I spent the summer of 1985 helping my dad and brothers build a cabin on our land. I was only five-going-on-six, but assisted regularly, earning the title of "Fetch-it," my job being to "fetch" whatever tools my dad or brothers needed at any given moment.

I earned $40 for my labor that summer, $20 of which my dad put into my "mission fund." I was free to spend the other $20 however I chose, with $4 being tithed to my church.

Later on, as a teenager, I received many additional opportunities to work manual labor jobs doing a variety of different tasks, including: construction, groundskeeping, varmint extermination, wood hauling, chopping, stacking, and wood stove fire-stoking, painting, fence-building, farming (dry-wheat), ranching, food catering, flyer distribution, shelf-installation, serving on cleanup crews for wrecked semi-trucks, and an array of service projects with my local church and scout troop.

Admiring my first pay check for summer's work, 1985

These work opportunities provided me with wonderful adventures. But they also taught me that I didn't want to do manual labor as an adult professional. This helps to explain why I thought I had died and gone to heaven when, in 10th grade, I got my first job as a professional writer covering sports, city council meetings, and other community events for a local weekly newspaper! And why I ended up pursuing a doctoral degree later on.

Despite making a conscious decision to pursue a professional, white-collar career, I still enjoy aspects of manual labor to this day. This explains why I experienced such joy building a brick garden box in the backyard of Lina's and my first home in Houston, Texas, and why I enjoyed doing yard work around our home as much as I did. 

Brick garden box I built in the backyard
of Lina's and my first home in Houston, Texas.

Upon moving to Florida a couple of years ago, I confess that we bought a home in a community where yard work is performed by professionals hired by the HOA, and I'm not gonna lie—these days, I'm okay with that!

I confess further that at this point in my personal and professional life, I look to avoid manual labor when and where possible because it simply isn't an effective use of my time as a writer, speaker, teacher, and business builder.

Despite this reality, you probably won't be surprised to learn that one of my retirement dreams is to buy a 10-15 acre plot of land and spend my free-time "playing" on my land with tools such as an axe, chainsaw, wood shredder, shovel, rake, a cement mixer, trowel, and a backhoe! Yep... someday I'm gonna build me something akin to a Secret Garden and Fort, and putting my shoulder to the wheel throughout the process is gonna be one of the joys of my golden years.

Minute Maid Park; Houston, Texas
It's tough to see a Major League Baseball
game in a small town.

You've heard the saying: "The only difference between a man and a boy is the size of his toys." Well, I daresay there is a lot of truth to that! My wife thinks I'm crazy—and she is right; I am CRAZY... besides what ails me. But bless her heart; she is okay with me pursuing my dream—assuming we can afford it.  

To date, I have actually spent about 70% of my life living in cities/suburbs, including: Mesa, Arizona; Spokane, Washington; Provo, Utah; Edmonton & Calgary, Alberta, Canada; Atlanta, Georgia; Houston, Texas; St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada; Houston, Texas (again); and now West Palm Beach, Florida area.

And realistically, I'll live most (if not all) of the rest of my life in cities as well. 

Helping my brother Wayne with his Eagle Scout project.
I am in the back standing and wearing an orange shirt.

Despite this fact, there will always be a piece of the country in this city boy. As the old saying goes: "You can take the boy out of the country; but you can't take the country out of the boy!"

And I think that is a good thing.

Another benefit of my rural upbringing was the quality of character that existed in many of the people I associated with growing up. As a wise man once told me: "You have been blessed to be born in these small mountain communities where good examples are prevalent."

I earned my own Eagle Scout award

in 1997. My Eagle project was to build

a bench next to my brother's in the same

park in Monticello.

Boy was he right!  

From parents and siblings to aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, neighbors, teachers, coaches, scout leaders, and church leaders, it seems as though from the moment I was born I was surrounded by an entire family, neighborhood, church congregation, school, and community of individuals with stellar character. Of course nobody is perfect; but some people are certainly more fortunate than others when it comes to who they are allotted to spend their time with in their earliest and most impressionable years.

I, for one, was sublimely blessed in this regard.    

My rural upbringing is a part of who I am; and it will always remain that way. I am proud of my roots and upbringing, and I am grateful for the riches of my rural roots.

Small town living is not without its downsides. You obviously have fewer social options and urban amenities. You may also experience various challenges that may arise from everybody knowing everybody else in the community. On the flip side, however, city dwelling is not perfect either. You usually have less immediate access to the wonders of the natural world, and urbanites may sometimes wish that their neighbors cared a little more than they do... as rural dwellers tend to be more neighborly by nature.  

My three children during our time in Carlsbad, NM; 2020.

In the end, I feel immensely blessed to have lived in a vast array of both urban and rural areas. Indeed, in addition to spending 11 years in Monticello, Utah; I've also lived in Gunlock, Utah; Camrose and Innisfail, Alberta, Canada; and Carlsbad, New Mexico. And I've spent time in or passed through countless small towns throughout the United States, Canada, and Great Britain.

This broad array of diverse living experiences has served to richly decorate my life with associates, friends, neighbors, colleagues, and adventures that have, in-turn, woven an incredibly unique, colorful, and vibrant tapestry into the fabric that is my life.  

And I'm only half-way through it!  

I look forward to the next half, and express my undying thanks to God and my family, friends, and neighbors for helping to make my life so wonderful thus far.  

—Dr. JJ

March 22, 2023

Homestead, Florida, USA

Author's Note: This is the 313th Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013 and the 139th consecutive weekly blog published since August 31, 2020.   

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To the Love of my Life: A Husband's Tribute to His Wife

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,

Ne'er has it been my lot to meet

And her modest answer and graceful air

Show her good and wise as she is fair."*

I love ROMANCE.

     Always have.

          Always will.

"Tell them, dear, that if eyes were meant for seeing, Then beauty is its own excuse for being."**

— Ralph Waldo Emerson  

To me, few things can compete with, much less eclipse, the majesty, glory, and joy accessible within the magical experiences of authentic ROMANCE. At a very early age, it became evident to me that the greatest things I could possibly aspire to in life were love, marriage, and family.

Have you ever properly been in LOVE?

Is there anything better in life than being authentically in Love?

Years ago, a famous television personality hosted a program on a major news network in the United States. A memorable schtick of this particular host involved posing this unique question to celebrities and other high profile guests on his show. On some occasions, he would slightly change his query, as follows: "How many times have you properly been in love?" 

Ever since tuning into his show, both of these questions have intrigued me. So I naturally posed them to myself, from myself. 

For me, the answer to the first question is easy: "YES, I have properly been in love." 

The answer to the second question is: "ONCE"—albeit with a fairly detailed footnote attached.

Why the footnote? And what does said footnote entail?  

     I had a feeling you'd ask me that question!

Since I was just a boy—from kindergarten and first grade on-up—I have always had a crush on some girl (and later on some woman). It's hard to remember a time in my past when I wasn't in love (or at very least deeply infatuated with) some girl or woman.

For example, at the beginning of my 4th grade year, I was all agog with a girl in my new class.

Her name was Tara.

To this day, I can still distinctly recall the brief moment Tara's and my eyes met and locked on to each other diagonally across the table one day at lunchtime. This dreamy eye-locking only lasted for about three seconds (which is quite a while, if you really think about it), after which we both reflexively looked away. Nevertheless, I remember the moment with great clarity—as if it had happened just yesterday—and it ranks among the most magical moments of my young life.

Within days of that moment, however, I was transferred to a 4th/5th grade combination class because there were too many students in the fourth- and fifth-grade classes at my school that year. I was devastated to be taken out of Tara's class, so much so that I recall crying in my bed one night before the official classroom switch was set to take place.

Pathetic?  

     Perhaps. 

Nevertheless, the pathos of that experience—and so many others like it—was REAL, and cut deep into the furrows and sinews of my young mind, heart, and soul.  

It did not matter too much, however, that I was taken out of Tara's class because I merely formed a new crush (of course). This time it was Lindsay—an older woman (5th grader)—in my new combination class. This relatively quick switch from Tara to Lindsay suggests that I must not have been properly in love with Tara, or Lindsay, for that matter. Such seeming amores must have been more akin to juvenile infatuations.  

Some of my infatuations were more intense than others, and some lasted for far longer than others, but they almost always existed for me. This was, no doubt, a part of my natural make-up. It was also influenced by romances I observed all around me, including the real-life connubial connections of my parents (My mom and dad were both hopeless romantics) and older siblings and cousins as well as the more idealistic versions I was exposed to in print and the cinema.

The latter variety had perhaps the deepest impact on me, and I'll never forget the pleasure of reading about Jefferson Davis Bussey (a Union spy) and his pure and innocent—albeit forbidden—romance with Lucy Washbourne (a sweet, lovely, gorgeous Southern Belle he met behind enemy lines) in Harold Keith's Newbery Award winning juvenile historical fiction novel, Rifles for Watie. Moreover, many a movie inspired additional romantic notions within my mind, heart, and spirit, thus leading me to waltz out of a movie theatre "walking on air"  for the passion and inspiration I derived from a motion picture. 

The Ladies, bless their hearts, managed
to do a number on mine over the years!

Throughout my entire childhood, adolescence, and young adult years, I was always "falling in love"—or so I thought. I also dated a lot. From age 16-19, I went on 40 different dates (mostly group dates) with 33 different girls. And YES... as an avid journaler, I kept detailed track of my experiences, so any stats I provide on the subject are trustworthy. 

I did not date at all between ages 19-21 because I was serving a full-time mission for my church. But after returning from my 2-year mission to Canada, I started dating even more prolifically in anticipation of eventually marrying.   

In all, I went on 218 dates with 100 different women before meeting Lina.

          That's right... I had to date 100 other gals before I was worthy of and prepared to date Lina, and she just happened to be the magical number #101!

Some gals I only went out with once; others I went out with twice, thrice, or even several more times. But come what may, I could never get any of these relationships to last. This fact was devastating—even heartbreaking—on dozens of occasions because in my mind, I really did "fall in love" with a score or more different gals. However, in hindsight I came to see over time that all of these experiences were more akin to powerful infatuations than authentic LOVE.

Despite all that experience over more than a decade, I managed to land only one "official" girlfriend; and she dumped me after one week of "official" dating.

Pathetic?

     Perhaps.

But all that failure-laden "despised love"*** proved to be an important part of my life's journey. Furthermore, it turned out to be entirely worth it because that pathway led me to where I had always sought to go, which was to make it to the end of the rainbow and find a pot of romantic gold.  

  

Eventually, I made it to the Rainbow's end, where I met and started to date Lina Tucker. For the first time in my life, I was not only properly in love, but I finally understood what it actually meant to "Properly be in Love." After all the failure and disillusionment, my success with Lina proved to be a truly magical experience that continues on and is even richer TODAY.  

I truth, I never spent enough quality time with any other girl or woman to have properly been in love. And while time expenditure alone is not a recipe for TRUE LOVE, it is unquestionably an indispensable ingredient.  

Now I know the difference between mere infatuation and real, deep, committed LOVE—and it wasn't just a matter of pulling a rabbit out of my hat by somehow persuading Lina to be my "official" girlfriend for more than a week—although that was undoubtedly a good start! 

It was really more about the time investment and personal commitment.  

Lina Marie Jensen
"My Darling, My Darling, My Wife and My Bride"****
From her Bridal Pics Collection, August 2008

Today's post***** is a tribute to my wife—my best friend, closest companion and confidante, the unrivaled apple of my eye, and the absolute LOVE of my LIFE.

Lina Marie (née Tucker) and I were married on August 8, 2008. It's an easy date to remember because it's 08/08/08, or just 8/8/8.

Our 13th wedding anniversary passed by a couple of Sundays ago.

This year's anniversary is extra special to me personally because I have a thing with the number 13—it's my lucky number (long story). This number also has a lot of importance to Freedom Focused as an organization (again, long story). Lastly, it is the first anniversary we will spend in our new home state—the Wondrous and Great Sunshine State of FLORIDA.

Due to scheduling issues, we will not be officially celebrating our anniversary until this weekend, which coincides nicely with my 42nd birthday on August 21st. Nothing like a dual reason to throw a party, especially where romance is involved! Thanks to my wonderfully kind and generous in-laws, who are taking our kids for the weekend so we can celebrate, Lina and I are looking forward to a magical two-night romantic getaway in Miami. 

With my girlfriend, Lina, on our first
trip to South Beach in March 2007

I sometimes refer to Atlanta, Georgia as the city where "Dreams Come True" because that is where I had the privilege and pleasure of meeting and dating Lina. If Atlanta is the city where dreams come true, then Miami is the "City of our Dreams." As such, we are most fortunate to get to make our home just an hour or so north of this subtropical jewel of the Deep South.

Lovely in every possible way, Lina is the most wonderful person in the world in my eyes.

          I absolutely adore her. 

There are endless things about her that I admire. She is incredibly beautiful (inside and out). She is wicked smart. She is fun to be around and has the most joyful and infectious laughs of anyone I've ever met. I recall a time back during our courtship when I was sitting next to Lina and a couple of other friends while riding in the back seat of a car. As we rode along, she was absolutely shaking with laughter. The reason I'll never forget the moment was because the metaphysical mirth and jubilant joy that emanated from her being at that otherwise commonplace moment was a key indicator that this was the kind of person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of eternity.

In short, Lina has a golden mind, a platinum personality, and a heart of diamonds.

I love her voice.

     I love her laugh.

           I love her smile and scent.

                I love her character, integrity, virtue, and endless goodness.  

Indeed, my admiration of and respect for her knows no bounds.

Lina is not perfect; no one is. But she is about as close to perfection as one could possibly hope for in a spouse. Moreover, she is the consummate self-action leader. I may have written THE BOOKS on the subject, but she is actually a better example of SAL than I am in many (if not most) ways.

Lina jumping for joy on South Beach in 2007

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; ...

I saw her upon nearer view,

A spirit, yet a woman too! ...

A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet; ...

A being breathing thoughtful breath,

A traveler between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect woman, nobly planned

To warn, to comfort, and command;

And yet a spirit still, and bright

With something of angelic light.******

Lina has a positive attitude. She loves other people and cares deeply about their needs, feelings, and welfare. Despite being a full-time career professional who travels regularly, she is a remarkably conscientious, caring, and devoted wife and mother. She is one of the most mature and selfless people I have ever met. She has made my dreams come true in so many ways, and our family has been endlessly blessed by her love, work, and endless dedication to us.  

Kissing on a camping trip in early 2008

She is, quite simply, better than the woman of my dreams.

The reason I describe her this way is because I, like many other single men, had certain ideas in my eyes, head, and heart about what kind of woman I wanted to someday marry. And it may surprise you to learn that Lina was not exactly what I had envisioned when I pictured my future wife. 

She... is... BETTER than what I had envisioned!

In other words, God took my own ideas for an ideal spouse into His compassionate and almighty Hands and said to me: "That's a good and interesting start, Jordan, but how about I do you a whole lot better? 

Here... meet Lina!"  

There she was... waiting for me
underneath a South Florida Palm Tree!

I would say I am the luckiest man in the world, but a lot more than mere LUCK went into finding, meeting, dating, and marrying Lina. It took time, effort, FAITH, focus, determination, persistence, consistence, vision, and a healthy dose of old-fashioned risk-taking.

Indeed, my journey to Lina was anything but fast or easy. Fraught with seemingly endless disappointment, heartache, rejection, and failure that at times bordered on despair, finally meeting up with Lina was like finally finding that elusive oasis in the Sahara desert after traveling for several thousand miles through that sweltering North African landscape of endless sand and sunburn.

But it was all worth it because Lina was waiting for me underneath the Palm Tree of that heavenly oasis. When the Country Music group, Rascal Flatts, sings: "God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you," they must have been singing about me. 

Lina and I met in Atlanta (technically Duluth) Georgia in September 2006. While it wasn't exactly love at first sight for either of us, it is fair to say that it was love at "Second Sight"—at least for me—and within a week, I was hooked! She understandably didn't fall for me quite as quickly, but thankfully grew to love me over time.

Our Wedding Day in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA
August 8, 2008  ~  8/8/08

The more I got to know her, the more in love I fell, and the more determined I grew to do whatever it might take—for however long it might take—to win her heart for good. It took six months after we met before she agreed to date me exclusively. And it took an entire year after that before she agreed to marry me. I was ready to get engaged after three months of dating. It took her nine additional months; but it was worth the wait! Never in my life has there been a more important or well-spent 18 months.

In light of everything I've said about Lina up to this point, perhaps you are assuming that we've never had an argument, unhappy moment, or felt cross with each other. 

NOT SO!

It was not all smooth sailing after we started dating. We had to endure two heartrending breakups before we were convinced that we wanted our relationship to last for the rest of our lives and FOREVER beyond that.

In addition, we have faced our share of marital challenges after tying the knot. Lina and I are human just like everybody else. Sometimes we hurt each other's feelings. Sometimes we feel irritated with each other. Sometimes we disagree. Sometimes we even argue and feel cross with one another. Every moment of our marriage has not been blissfully free of trial, error, disappointment, frustration, and pain.

Nobodies is.  

With Lina at Delray Beach after a couples'
speaking engagement in July 2021.

In fact, we have even been to marriage counseling a few times over the years, and every time we've gone our relationship has gotten better as a result. 

Nevertheless, in the aggregate, I honestly cannot imagine a better life-partner and companion for me than Lina. Truly, she is the gal for me—a woman even better than the woman of my dreams! And in this imperfect world so often filled with sadness, separation, and wo, there is no doubt that I am sitting in the Catbird Seat because I get to be Lina's husband. 

Thank you, Lina, for 13 wonderful years. And thank you, God, for helping me find her and somehow, someway, win her heart over time.  

So to my precious darling and wonderful wife, Lina, I say: Here's to at least 50 more years together in this world (God-willing), and forever and ever in whatever worlds will come after that!

Of all of the blessings I've ever been given,

The greatest of all and the nearest to heav'n

Is found in the heart, mind, and soul of my wife—

The key human source of all good in my life! 

All my Love,

-JJ

August 18, 2021

Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, USA

Author's Note: This is the 225th Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013. 

Click HERE for a compete listing of the other 224 FF Blog Articles.  

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Notes:

* This elegant and romantic quatrain is from one of my favorite poems, entitled: Maud Muller, by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892).

** This couplet is found in Emerson's poem, The Rhodora.

***  Phrase from Shakespeare's Hamlet (Polonius's Advice to Laertes). 

**** Phrase from Edgar Allan Poe's famous Poem, Annabelle Lee

***** This post was inspired by a similar tribute that Country Music Legend, Garth Brooks, made to his wife, Trisha Yearwood, on the Garth XM Radio Channel (55). 

******  Excerpts from Wordsworth's poem, She Was a Phantom of Delight