By Maik Strosahl
While handing out rocks as part of my PocketRock Heart Project (shared here on Moristotle & Co. in eight parts from December 2021 – February 2022), there have been several very moving moments. Thought I would take a moment to share one of those with you this week.
By Maik Strosahl
I am not delusional. I know a PocketRock will not lead to world peace, cure Covid, or prove once and for all the existence of a creator. But, in my experience, I know it can touch hearts.
I am just beginning on this new journey, a venture of reconnection, perhaps a path of redemption.
Already the response has returned so many blessings. In-person visits, phone calls, and text conversations—I even received a beautiful hand-written card from my 4th-grade teacher, the one I credit with first encouraging me to write.
By Maik StrosahlChristmas as a holiday does not mean much to me. I was exposed to its pagan roots while very young and figured out that if we really are supposed to celebrate Jesus’ birthday, it would be somewhere around October 1, not coinciding with the worship of the sun as it gained strength after the winter solstice (also my sister Mari’s birthday).
But what I do love about holidays such as Christmas is having a day off where we can gather and love on one another.
By Maik StrosahlWhile driving home from Colorado, thinking about what I wanted to do for Katie, I also was thinking about all the people who have had an impact on me. Many of them I have lost contact with due to new jobs, moving across the country, and, well, the changes I made along the way.
Wouldn’t it be nice to bridge the distance that has grown with time? Wouldn’t it be nice if instead of being further distanced by the state of world affairs, we could buck the trend and reach through time to share some good will? Those we may have wronged somehow, even those who currently are inspiring our steps, can we let them know how important they are to our daily lives?
By Maik Strosahl
Twenty-three years into the marriage I knew was over after two, it was time to make some changes.
In August, I was t‑boned by a girl who ran a red light while taking a selfie. The car was totaled, but I was not bleeding, just some back issues that would require attention from a chiropractor. But there was a moment after spinning around and thinking this could be the end that brought clarity. I couldn’t keep living this lie.
Katie also was dealing with change. She left her parents home in November, also leaving the church. I was not aware of the circumstances, but I knew her change of address was not really by choice.
By Maik Strosahl
I was four when we moved into the house my parents still live in, and very shy. As I explored the new backyard, never straying far from the sidewalk, I noticed a tall man walking on the other side of the grape vine, from the neighbor’s garage up to that green house.
“What do you know, Flanagan*?” he asked as he noticed me watching him. That was enough to get me running back inside.
By Maik Strosahl
I know that losing my faith didn’t really happen overnight. Truth is, although I really wanted to believe, I always felt empty inside.
I did everything I could. A large part of my church was sharing the “Good News” of God’s approaching kingdom and its solutions for mankind’s woes. I took on the work full-time out of high school, even serving the congregation as a Ministerial Servant. I enjoyed helping others, writing and delivering biblical discourses, even handling other responsibilities at the meetings. But the more I did, the less honest I felt.
By Maik Strosahl
Note: Because the first part began with reference to my truck-driving, this project was launched in my Highways & Byways column. However, as this project is a special, limited series, we have decided to give it its own overall heading. Also, there was confusion about its title due to finding someone else who is using “The Pocket Heart Project” to hand out little hand-sewn hearts to be carried in pockets of first-responders. My project was not inspired by, nor does it have any association with, that cause. To eliminate any confusion, we have adjusted my project’s title to “The PocketRock Heart Project.
Turtle
Katie was always special. Perhaps it is in some part because of the loss that came before her.
My older sister Kori was due to have her first child in the summer of 1990. We were very close then, and I was looking forward to having her new child in attendance at my wedding in November. Tragically, we all experienced heartbreak when he arrived stillborn, a victim of spinal bifida.
By Maik Strosahl
Heading back into work after spending Thanksgiving with my wife and boys, I received my next load assignment. Three deliveries and a pickup in the Quad Cities. First time for everything. A load heading to my home town of Moline, Illinois.
Now, I have been working out of Fulton, Missouri, for over three years and have taken many a load that goes farther than the 244 miles to Moline, but I have never pulled that load—mostly because their stores are usually serviced out of Janesville, Wisconsin. This was special.
