I walked to Tranquility from Wellstar Hospital on the afternoon of March 3rd. I had just received word that my sister, Janet, was accepted into inpatient hospice care. After seven days in the hospital with my sister, I needed the fresh air. I also needed the time to process the decision I made to commit my sister to hospice. There was relief and guilt associated with this decision.

Then I met you.

You were so kind and so understanding. When I described all my sister had been through over the last three and a half years, you listened with such empathy. I was relieved to speak to you because you knew everything I was telling you before I even told you. You’ve seen it, and you assured me Tranquility Hospice was the right place for her at this point in her life.

When you used the term “terminal agitation” and defined it for me, it was the first time I realized the seriousness of my sister’s condition. I still remember sitting across from you in Tranquility’s library when I learned I made the right decision. I saw it in your eyes. Thank you.

My sister died on the afternoon of March 9th.

Every day I visited her in hospice was special and difficult. Every day, I asked Dr. Amdur, Renee, John, and Cheryl to assure me that I made the right decision to admit Janet to hospice. Every day, you, the doctor, and all the nurses were so kind and patient with me. As I write this, I can relive that same feeling of calm and peace they gave to me when we talked.

Renee was the first hospice nurse I ever met. She was so kind to my sister and me. She admitted my sister and settled her, cleaned and comforted her. And that made me comfortable knowing my sister was in such kind and capable hands.

Then John. Wow. We had so many wonderful conversations. He told me, “I really like your sister. We have a special bond. And I know she likes me as much as I like her. She is so special.” John would answer all my questions, calm all my doubts, and be there for Janet and me whenever we needed him—a true servant of God.

I met Cheryl on the day Janet died. I remember that afternoon when my sister passed. I was in the room with the nursing assistant, and we seemed to realize at the very same time that my sister wasn’t breathing. The assistant called for Cheryl immediately. Cheryl came in and listened intently for a heartbeat. After a minute or so, she turned to me and said, “I’m so sorry. Your sister passed.” She shared my sadness.

Amazing people all. I felt like everyone I met at Tranquility was somehow related to my sister and me. That was the level of care, the level of love, that I felt from the moment I was introduced to you all.

Thank you.

Something else I learned about hospice that is so different from the world. There are no atheists in hospice care. I am a follower of Jesus. I realize how difficult it is to navigate faith in this world. Each of you respected me, but also was clear that death is a God moment. I remember knowing God was real at my first child’s birth. I felt that same presence when my sister died at 3:15 PM on March 9th.

We were holding hands. She opened her eyes briefly and said, “I like it here. I love you.”

Thank you for this gift to my sister.

With gratitude and love,

Charlie Paparelli

I got the call on my landline (cell phones weren’t available yet). It was a fundraising call from the University of Miami, my alma mater.

I was about to sit down to dinner with Kathy and the kids. It was hectic and crazy. But despite this family chaos, I was in a really good mood. It was a good day at work, and I was making good money. It would be fair to say that on that night, I was feeling rich.

The student on the other end of the line was asking for a donation to the annual fund. I was ten years out of college and had never given a dime to the U.

The student chatted me up. I was enjoying our time together. He was a junior doing this fundraising gig to help pay his tuition and earn a little spending money. He asked for $1,000.

I was flabbergasted.

“A thousand bucks is a lot of money,” I told him.

But to his credit, he didn’t back off. He learned in our conversation that I was an entrepreneur who sold his company. Now I was running a software company for the new owner. He stood his ground knowing I could afford $1,000.

So I started to negotiate.

“I’ll give you the $1,000 if you send me a U of M hat, t-shirt, and jacket.”

He said, “I’ll do the hat and T-shirt but not the jacket.”

Deal.

I sent him the donation, and he sent me the hat and T-shirt.

I tell you this story because this was the first time I gave more than $50 to anybody.

What I didn’t know was that it was the beginning of my life-long giving. I slowly opened up to the idea of giving. Very slowly.

Eight years after this call, I began a new journey, following Jesus Christ. This got me into the Bible in a big way. It also opened up a whole new community to me. Christians. These business people showed me what it meant to be a good steward of my money. How to manage money God’s way.

This meant balanced spending, sound investments, saving, tithing to the church, and giving to support my community. These people did not hold on to their money white-knuckled. They were generous. And despite their generosity, they were doing really well financially.

It was during that time that I came to realize a truth. I had never met a person who gave so much money; he went broke. But I met many a person who had millions and tried to hold on to it and make even more, only to go broke.

I wonder who that student was who got me started with giving?

He changed my life for the better.

Being a caregiver brought me to my knees.

As a caregiver to my sister, who suffered from dementia, I arrived at a place of helplessness. This never happened to me in my lifetime. It was a feeling I was unfamiliar with. All the experience, money, network, friends, family, and wisdom meant nothing. I was out of answers and energy. I was spent. Done. Finished. But I was still the caregiver. I was still responsible for what to do next.

I didn’t realize it then, but I see it clearly now. I had arrived at a crossroads. It was time for me as a caregiver to decide something much more serious than was presented to me over the prior three and a half years of caregiving.

I was about to be thrust into a decision of life and death. To continue to decide on the next step in my sister’s life. To decide between providing comfort and letting nature take its course. To allow her to slip away comfortably.

But I didn’t know I had gotten to this stage. After three and a half years of doing all I could to keep her “healthy,” my thoughts could not, would not switch to the alternative. I was all about keeping my sister comfortable, safe, and clean. To keep her alive.

When I moved her to Atlanta, the first thing I did was find her a new set of doctors who could help me achieve her health goals.

I found her an internal medicine doctor to partner with me and guide me in this journey. Then a group of specialists who would focus on the critical organs of her body, including her mind. This team provided me with the baseline for managing my sister’s health.

Each of these doctors was on the mission of monitoring my sister’s decline and doing all they could to stop it or slow its progress. They weren’t focused on quality of life. They, like me, were focused on sustaining life. But I also had the added responsibility of the quality-of-life side of the equation.

The internal medicine doctor evaluated my sister every three months. The specialist in cardiology and neurology evaluated her annually. But I saw my sister every day. I interacted with her and evaluated her every day. I witnessed her good days and bad days. I experienced the slow decline early in my caregiving to the eventual rapid decline brought on by her dementia. They couldn’t help me with this. They weren’t there. I was.

Then, one day, I woke up to multiple voicemails from the early morning hours. Voicemails that showed the depth of my sister’s pain and confusion. The hallucinations, the paranoia, the abject exhaustion of her battle with dementia.

That morning, I was to take her to the dentist. On the way to the elevator, she fell. She broke her nose. Bruised her knee. She was rushed to the hospital for evaluation and treatment. Over the next seven days, the symptoms of the dementia were in full bloom. There were no rational thoughts, no reasoning, no way to communicate with her. She was now without agency. She was completely and totally my responsibility. Her life was in my hands. She was mine.

Each morning, I would get up to journal and pray. I journaled to get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper. When I look at those journal entries from the first few days of her hospital stay, it is clear I was all about getting her better and getting her out of the hospital. But that changed later in her stay.

The decision process around getting her better hit dead ends. Her mind was no longer controlling her body. Her mind was deregulated, and her body followed. She was no longer capable of doing what was necessary to get better and get out of the hospital. She wanted out, but would not make any sacrifice or put forth any effort to accomplish this desire. For example, when the physical therapy people came to sit her up in bed, she refused their care.

I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where she might go next. When I grilled the hospital doctors and nurses on the next steps, their answers were vague. The deeper I went into my questions, the more frustrated they became with me. Their ultimate answer was the medicare system. They would end our conversation by saying, “This is the next step as recommended by Medicare.” It solved nothing, and these professionals knew it. The next step in Medicare was a delay in the real decision at hand, my sister’s very existence.

The sixth morning of my sister’s hospital stay, I journaled this one question: “God, tell me what to do with Janet? I need a clear path. I need the truth.”

The answer came to me immediately. “Let me have her.”

When I wrote this down, all the stress left my chest. I never had this happen before.

I wasn’t sure what this meant regarding her next treatment step. But I did know this. I was no longer alone. All I had to do was open my hands, and God, who created her and loved her, would step in and take care of her. I was no longer alone on this journey of my sister’s next steps.

I didn’t have to do anything. God didn’t say, “Give her to me.” That would take effort on my part. He said, “Let me have her.” All I had to do was open my hands and release her to Him. He would take her. My responsibility in this is to let Him. So simple. So easy.

Within twenty-four hours, the right doctors and healthcare professionals appeared. They guided me in my transition from life-giving support as a caregiver to comfort care as a caregiver. They showed me what was happening to my sister and her condition. I observed the changes in her physical and cognitive condition, but I didn’t know how to interpret them. These people showed me. Then they explained the next step. And it was the first time the next step made sense to me.

It was time we moved her to inpatient hospice care. Every morning, I struggled with this decision. Did I just take the easy way out for me? Was it really time for my sister to die?

Three days into hospice, my sister awakened for a moment as I held her hand.

She looked into my eyes and said, “I like it here. I love you.”

Then I knew. She was where she needed to be.

Those were her last words.

Two days later, she died.

Now God has her completely.

But what about me?

After three and a half years as a caregiver, I was no longer a caregiver. For three and a half years, my sister was my first priority in life.

Now what?

Kathy and I walked through the funeral home's door. Out of seemingly nowhere, this lady rushes to us. She greets us with a big smile, leans in, and gives me a long, warm hug. She then steps aside and hugs Kathy. We were both stunned.

“What a welcome from someone I have never met before,” I thought.

She showed us to a conference room and asked us if we wanted a beverage. We declined. She told us she needed to get my late sister’s paperwork and would return shortly.

She sat across from me. Kathy sat next to me. I must confess that I operate in life applying stereotypes. This young woman was not what I expected to find in a funeral home. She did not look like a mortician to me.

My first question was, “Are you a mortician?”

“Yes,” she said, “I am fully licensed and have been practicing for the last twenty years.”

Because her occupation and my stereotype didn’t match (at all), I had to ask her, “When did you decide to become a mortician?”

She said, without any hesitation, “I knew I was going to work with the dead from six years old.”

I reacted to this bizarre statement by saying, “No way, that is true?”

She said, “Really, it’s true.” Then she told us the story.

Her elementary school was next to the town cemetery. One day, her teacher took all the kids on a class trip to this cemetery. She told me she wasn’t weirded out by the experience. Instead, she took writing paper from gravestone to gravestone and created an impression image of the pictures and writing on the gravestones.

When she got home, she showed her mom all she had done and told her all about the class trip to the cemetery. She then told her mom, “When I grow up, I am going to work with the dead.”

Her mom let this comment pass by with a simple, “Ok?”

Years later, as a freshman in high school, there was a job fair to get the kids thinking about making a living someday. There was a funeral director at the job fair, and this woman told us, “I made a beeline right for him. We talked for a long time about all he did, and I knew I wanted to be a mortician for sure.

“As soon as I graduated from High School, I entered a three-year certification and training program to become a mortician. I have been doing it ever since. I am now forty-two years old. I love every day of it.”

We then got down to business. This included signing all the cremation documents. It also included the required information for my sister’s death certificate.

With this completed, Kathy and I were shown into a room for one last viewing of my sister before she was cremated. I was dreading the thought of seeing my sister “prepped and ready” for viewing and then cremation. I wasn’t sure how I would handle this emotionally.

We then went back to the conference room. We had a couple of next step questions. She answered all my questions. We thanked her and stood to leave.

She said, “Wait. I have a gift for you.”

She stood quickly and returned with a black shopping bag. There was something big and awkward in the bag from what I could see.

She said, “This is for you. It’s a frozen Stouffer’s frozen lasagna.”

I was stunned. I asked, “A what?”

“Yes. I do this for clients. I am the only mortician who works here who does this.”

“Thank you?” I said, quizzically.

She hugged me and Kathy goodbye. She said, “I am sorry for your loss.” She turned and headed to her office and was gone.

I looked at Kathy as I held my black bag with the lasagna and asked her, “Did that just happen?”

We went home, and Kathy cooked the lasagna. We ate it while remembering my sister. She had an adventurous life that is now being remembered over a lasagna from a funeral home.

This really happened!

Trump, for the first time in his life, is negotiating with people who are religiously principled. They are willing to die for their beliefs. Their mission, as commanded by their god, is to eliminate the infidels.

He asks, “Don’t you care about the Iranian people?”

Iran’s leadership’s answer is, “The Iranian people are either on our mission or they are not. If they are on our mission, they, like us, are willing to die to obey god’s command. If they are not on our mission, then they are no better than any other infidel.”

Trump’s entire history is negotiating with people whose core values are money and power. He gets them as these are his values.

But even with the entire power and might of the United States military, he can not get the Iranian leadership to capitulate.

It is impossible to negotiate when there is no overlap in values, including the value of life itself. Religious ideology-driven values will win unless they are obliterated with force.

There was a scene in The Godfather II. Michael Corleone, the new head of the family, is in Cuba. He is there to negotiate his piece of Cuba’s future. The Mafia is negotiating with Cuba’s then-president.

Michael is being driven to the meeting. His car is stopped by the police. They are dealing with a protester who is intent on overthrowing the Cuban government. The protestor fights with the police as they try to control him. He sees he is outmanned, so he blows himself up and takes everyone around him with him.

In a meeting with the Mafia boss, Michael says, “This government will not stand. They will lose.” He then tells the story of the protestor.

He concludes with, “The Cuban President can not win against a people who are willing to die for their cause.”

The Godfather, Part II - “They Could Win”

There is no win-win in this negotiation. You win by killing them all. Short of this, you will lose in the long-term and they will prevail and kill you.

Who wants to be the President of the United States?

Every day presents a seemingly intractable problem on the mission of protecting the American people and their allies throughout the world.

“Wow, what a talented artist. I am equally blown away by how many pieces she created and the variety. She had a fascinating level of creativity.”

I share this quote from a friend who visited my sister’s website after reading my Eulogy of her death.

Because of his interest and others’, I have decided to share a bit more about Janet, my sister, the artist. I believe it is a continued tribute to her body of work and love of art and artists.

Here is a short video of Janet about her life:

Visit her website.

I hope you enjoy Janet Paparelli and her life’s work.

Love,

charliep

Here’s what nobody tells you when you start backing founders — the ones who make it aren’t the ones who control everything. They’re the ones who finally figure out what was never theirs to control in the first place. These six lessons took me decades to learn — and I’m still learning them.

• When I’m looking forward or back and become anxious, I say a prayer and ask God to bring me back to the present. He is in control, not me.

• God has a plan, so you never know where your work will take you or the destiny it will fulfill.

• If God wants you there, there you will be. The question then becomes: Why did God put you there?

• Occasionally, God gets our attention by eliminating what the focus of our attention and time is.

• The entrepreneur plants, waters, and tends the field. God brings the harvest.

• I am powerless, but I am in God’s hands. That is the best place to be.

What is one thing God removed from your life that you later realized was clearing the way for something better?

Celebrating with Janet on her 81st birthday.

Tasha, the caregiver at the hospice facility, asked, “Your sister was an artist?”

I said, “She was very well recognized back in her day. She still has paintings hanging in all the Florida Neiman Marcus stores.”

I showed her the picture of Janet in her heyday.

She said, “Did she always paint such big paintings?”

“Yes, she did.”

When we ended our conversation, I remembered how talented Janet was as an artist. She told me several times, while she was here in Atlanta, how she painted.

She said, “I never had a plan. I would walk up to the canvas and paint what I painted. I don’t know where it came from. There was something in me that needed to be expressed and it came out through my brush on to the canvas. That’s how it worked. It was such a wonderful feeling to paint. It freed me.”

This thought came to me and made me cry. Not from guilt but from joy. She found something in life we all want. We want to find a way to express ourselves. Some of us do it by creating companies. Others through the friendships we make and maintain. And still others by marrying wonderful people and creating beautiful families.

Each of these, in my mind, is from God’s hand. He created each of us uniquely and for a purpose. And when we express ourselves through that unique gift and purpose, we are making the world more beautiful. And we get to enjoy the fulfillment that comes with this purpose. God is good.

Janet created over 400 paintings.

They are all over Florida and all over our houses, from Miami to Atlanta to NY to London. Each of these is evidence of her self-expression. It is her gift from God and her gift to each of us.

I loved my sister through thick and thin. And while lying in hospice in a moment of lucidity, she looked me in the eye as I stood at her bedside and whispered the words, “I love you.” I’ll never forget her eyes and the way she spoke those words.

There is a lot of water that has flowed under the bridge of life for all of us. Janet wanted friends and family. And she wanted to be alone and independent. The difficulty for her was living with this tension. It was a lifelong struggle. Life was hard for her.

If each of you stood at her bedside in that hospice facility just like I did, I believe she would hold your hand and tell you, “I love you.” In the midst of all the relational chaos, she really felt this way. She never felt she deserved love, so it was difficult for her to share it.

My prayer is in death, Janet finally came to realize how much God loved her. And I pray she will know that love for eternity.

I’ve been doing this a long time — investing in entrepreneurs, sitting across the table from founders who are convinced they've got it all figured out. But the lessons that changed me? They had little to do with deal terms or valuations — and everything to do with getting out of God’s way.

1. When the dissatisfaction comes, trust the process. Step out and see what God does to bring you to your destiny.

2. Life has taught me that God has me in a process. His journey. Never mine. This is a lesson I continue to learn.

3. When faith meets initiative, God’s plan is about to happen. Watch out!

4. Discontent can be God’s way of letting you know He has an exciting plan just waiting for you.

5. Don’t let your insecurities limit the Almighty.

6. An entrepreneur can control risk, but he can only experience destiny. One is controlled by him and the other by God.

1. To know if you should call an end to something, picture the future outcome if you stay with the status quo.

2. Do we work so hard because we are competitive and driven or envious? Know what drives you.

3. When God is present, there is abundance. When he is absent, there is scarcity.

4. If you understand a person’s motivation and serve them, you can achieve greatness together.

5. Angel investors should only go deep in their areas of proficiency. Otherwise, they are a distraction to the entrepreneur.

6. Being too busy to listen to God is too busy, no matter the importance of other priorities.

7. Personal growth comes from helping others succeed and grow, not simply working on yourself. Don’t make it about you!

Watch the rest of my conversation with Matt Stevens.

What’s one area of your business where starting smaller — and watching closely — would actually reduce your risk?

Watch the rest of this conversation.

I am sure I am going to hear all about it from my friends and kids, but I don’t care. Kathy likes the idea, and so do I.

She is excited about it because it means adventure. We can go places we could not go in a street-based, low-clearance, two-wheel-drive luxury car.

This car is different.

It has lots of black plastic, whereas other cars we looked at have beautifully painted exterior bumpers and fender wells. It allows us to be free from the thought that we need to pamper this car. It was made to drive anywhere without regard to dents and dings. It makes us feel like we can go, just do it, try it, and enjoy it.

Be free to drive!

It is our motorcycle on four wheels.

One of the car reviewers on YouTube was sponsored by “ON-X Offroad,” a mapping app for off-road vehicles, motorcycles, hunters, and fishermen. This endorsement sealed the deal for me. And when Kathy saw the off-road part of the review and the ON-X mapping, she was pumped.

“When can we get it?” she asked excitedly.

After we return from our trip to visit David and Amanda, we will pick it up on the Monday before Christmas.

We are both very excited.

This car will give us the ability to plan new adventures we will experience and enjoy together. Kathy makes life bigger and more fun for me, for us. In preparation for delivery, we are planning our first adventure.

See.

The anticipation is already building.

This would not happen with a luxury sedan. It would be a “me” car and not an “us” car. And in this season of our lives, “us” cars are what life is all about, at least for us.

Watch both conversations: Jason Smith 1 | Jason Smith 2

Here’s some real wisdom from friend and mentor Sig Mosley — the Godfather of Atlanta Angel Investing. After 32 years and 122 deals, Sig has seen every kind of entrepreneur walk through his door. In this conversation, he told me something I’ve watched play out dozens of times — the founders who fake an answer in a pitch almost always get caught. But here’s the part nobody talks about. Being too humble is just as deadly. Sig calls it a balancing act — humility and confidence, working together — and he says most founders never figure it out. These soft skills all interact with each other in ways that will surprise you.

Watch the full interview with Sig to hear all 10 X Factors he looks for in a fundable entrepreneur.

I just attended a funeral. It was for a friend whose wife died.

I learned a big lesson from this experience.

A little background

This friend was my CFO in a business I ran back in the late eighties. We were very close. We worked together every day, all day, for close to five years. After we both left this business, I connected my friend, Craig, with another business owner friend, Phil. Together, they built that business and sold it years later. They then both retired.

As I walked into the lobby of the church, there was my friend, Craig. He looked different. He aged. He was now seventy-eight. The last time I saw him was ten years ago.

The first words I said were, “I am so sorry for your loss.” Then it hit me. He didn’t recognize me. I saw it in his expression. I had changed, too. Ten years in this last season of life will do that to a man. So I said, “I’m Charlie Paparelli.” He quickly said, “I know who you are.”

It happened again

Sitting in the pew, I turned and saw his partner, my other friend, Phil, with whom I connected Craig a while ago. He aged too. I might not have recognized him if I wasn’t looking for him specifically.

When the service ended, I was waiting in the church lobby for Phil and his wife. They looked at me and walked right past me. These are two people I’ve known for over forty years. We were close, very close. We shared lots of our lives, kids, parties, golf, the whole bit. But at some point, life circumstances changed, and we were no longer in each other’s orbit.

All this shook me up. We didn’t recognize each other. A close co-worker, a good old friend, and we walked right past each other. I’m sure they saw me just as I saw them. They even probably said to themselves, “Is that Charlie?” but kept going.

What I learned

I am now in my early seventies. I see this decade as the beginning of my last season of life. It is far different from any other season of life I experienced. It is a season of no second chances. I either do “it” now, or “it” will never happen. This includes visiting with friends, neighbors, former business associates, and people in my church community.

The question I asked myself today, after wrestling with what happened to me at the funeral, is this: Whose funeral would I go to if I found out they died today?

If I am willing to change my schedule, to drop everything, to honor them by attending their funeral, why would I not be visiting with them while they are still alive?

This thought hit me hard

I need to change how I plan. I need to build plans focused on people. Not plans focused on projects.

Life is short. In this season, the richness of life is in people, not projects.

This morning, as you can see, my feelings and thoughts from the funeral all came together. The question made all the difference. Whose funeral would I go to if I found out they died today?

I made a list. What surprised me was the size of the list. There were so many people to spend time with. But I realized that with many people, all it takes is a simple ten-minute call. With other people, it may be a coffee a couple of times a year. And still with others, it may be a regular dinner date or a trip and a longer visit.

The change for me will be in how I plan my day-to-day. This list of people comes first, then the projects!

I am calling my former business partner, Bob Lasher, this week!

When you’re evaluating a founder (or pitching as one), what matters more — the vision or the plan to execute it?

Watch the full conversation on YouTube.

“I am impressed with many men for their accomplishments. I am most impressed and intrigued by men who have accomplished a successful marriage. You’ve been married for forty years. What is the secret?” he asked.

It was eleven o’clock at night, and we were standing on the terrace of our hotel. We were under a clear sky filled with stars. As we looked out from the terrace, we saw below us the lights of Florence, Italy, with the Duomo standing proudly in the middle of the city. This was one of our stops on our 40th-anniversary motorcycle trip. Kathy was in the hotel room, fast asleep. Phil, one of our fellow riders, and I talked as he smoked a cigarette. His question stunned me. I was like a deer in the headlights. I knew this was a moment, the moment, to share great wisdom on what makes a marriage work long-term. Nothing but platitudes raced through my mind.

The Front Door Opened

Then I told him our story, hoping the secret would emerge—the story of our lifelong love for each other. I met Kathy on a blind date in Denver, Colorado, on a business trip. A client introduced us. She was to be his date that night, and my date was Kathy’s girlfriend. Her girlfriend didn’t show up.

Jared, my client, drove me to Kathy’s house in his red, road-weary Ford Bronco. Hearing the rattling bucket of bolts arrive, Kathy opened the front door. I saw her. She saw me. Our lives changed forever. We played together for our first four years of marriage. I was working hard on my first startup. She took the time to finish her degree while working part-time. It was a great time of love, fun, and companionship.

Then My Dad Died

Shortly after my dad’s funeral, Kathy decided to have children. My mom wasn’t getting any younger, and she deserved to be a grandmother. Kathy and I knew we wanted a family, and now was the time to start.

My dad died in February of 1980, and Kathy announced she was pregnant in April. Julia was born in January 1981. As our family grew, Kathy focused on the kids. I focused on my career. It was an incredible time. Everything in our lives was new. Children, the sale of the business, houses, cars, neighbors, schools, kids’ sports, and career opportunities. It was all great.

What I didn’t realize was that we were growing apart. I was on the road chasing my ambition, making money, working, attending business dinners, and partying. Kathy was at home raising the children, changing diapers, getting the kids to school, taking them to the doctors, and keeping our household together. We never stopped loving each other through all of this. But we weren’t growing together. Our interests were divided.

Then I Lost My Job

Losing my job was a devastating time in my life. The merry-go-round stopped. Everything wasn’t excellent all the time. The diversions of employment and income were gone. It was Kathy, the kids, and me. Whom have we become? Where are we now? Where are we going? These were questions on our minds. Our marriage wasn’t great anymore.

Suddenly, I was forced to look at who I had become. I was not happy with what I saw. I saw a self-centered, overly ambitious, narcissistic egomaniac who drank too much to soothe reality. This was a gut-check on my life’s priorities.

It was either Kathy or me.

It was the kids or me.

It was God or me.

Sadly, each time I chose myself.

But Then God Won

I couldn’t behave my way out of this, and neither could Kathy. God stepped into our lives and changed us. We both became born again. We were changed. Jesus saved us from ourselves. He saved our love. He saved our marriage. He saved our family. Kathy and I now had a child-like personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. We both pursued this relationship with fervor. We couldn’t get enough of the Bible, small groups, and Christian mentors. Where were these people all our lives?

The more we pursued our personal relationship with God, the closer we became and the more in love with each other we grew. This second birth, our spiritual birth, ignited a love for each other like never before. “I get that you changed your focal point,” said Phil impatiently, “but what is the secret of a 40-year marriage?” When Phil said the words “focal point,” I wasn’t sure what to say. I was at a loss on how to answer him. Then, as often happens when mulling things over much later, it occurred to me.

The Focal Point Is the Secret

When Kathy and I changed our focal point, it changed our marriage. Before, our focus was on our individual needs, wants, and desires. Kathy had her focal point. I had mine. These different focal points caused a drifting separation in our relationship. We didn’t notice it at first, but over time, the distance became almost too great to overcome.

By focusing on the God who created us...The God who gave us love at first sight.The God who put us together. The God who keeps us together.The God who loves us. The God who gives us an eye, mind, and heart for each other.The God who gave us children and grandchildren. The God who provides for us.The God who gives us purpose. The God who is unchanging. By focusing on our God, we learned to stand firm in our marriage. With God as our focal point, it all makes sense.

Do You Want to Know a Successful Marriage’s Secret?

Jesus is the secret. Having him as our focal point is the answer Kathy and I discovered. Thankfully.

Watch the rest of my conversation with Gregg Hinthorn.