The Touch of Life – A Rugby Novel by Ike Andrews

There have been distinct moments in my life where I have been extraordinarily proud of my father. The first was in the 4th grade during a “what does your dad do for work” presentation where he turned a pedestrian career in the paper industry into an exciting exposition of international business, making me the envy of the classroom for having such a “cool” dad. The second was when he delivered the eulogy for his best friend Brian, honoring him and his Lord with his convicting message. And upon my re-reading of The Touch of Life, that feeling of pride swelled within me once again.

I was roughly five years younger than Professor Michael Burke the first time I read this book, an age where I was too occupied with partying and making skateboard videos to read a 500-page novel. Yet, despite my prodigal tendencies, remnants of God’s command to honor your parents still clung to me. So, I read on. And for a kid who found reading to be a chore up until that point in life, I genuinely enjoyed the read, much like a teenager’s first viewing of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was a surface-level enjoyment, where I laughed at the antics of Ripper, cringed at the weasel known as Jeff Sheonick, and was on the edge of my seat during its climactic finale.

And to this day, I can still remember the night I finished the book. I was glued to the final chapters, unable to sleep until I discovered the fate of the Select Side rugby players. This of course, became problematic, since I was slated to wake up at 5 AM for a full day of salmon fishing with my father and some friends from church. On paper, it’s an experience any man would be grateful for, but for a 21-year-old college student on Christmas break, I wasn’t exactly enthused for the outing, nor for the eight hours spent in the middle of the Snake River freezing my butt off.

I actually caught one during one of those trips!

Despite the dread of an early morning fishing trip, I put down the book that night satisfied that I had just read a well-written thriller that any connoisseur of fiction would be proud of. But even though I would go on to recommend it to others, I still lacked the maturity to understand the deeper themes presented. And similar to the Lord of the Rings, it would take half a lifetime to truly appreciated the emotional and spiritual depth of this book.

When my father approached me with the idea of re-releasing The Touch of Life (now that eBooks have made reading more accessible), I happily obliged. Feeling that I owed him a favor after he graciously proofread my own novel, I also knew it would be a good exercise for someone who had just started his own publishing company. What I didn’t expect is how much more I would enjoy reading it the second time.

Now, being the approximate age of my father during the time he wrote this, the story hits from an entirely different angle. It astonished me how well my father captured the zeitgeist of not just Wisconsin in the late 1970s, but of being a young man navigating the path into adulthood. From the very first chapter, I felt like I had been there, a stranger in a strange land, finding routine and contentment with the little you have. I could relate to the feels and struggles of the professor, and even found joy in the simple details of his surroundings, from the scent of freshly mowed grass to the peaceful ambience that encompasses a college campus after students have left for the summer. Though the settings may differ, it’s during these transition periods that lead us into wonder, longing for change, yet clinging to that last vestige of an adolescent spirit. It’s what led the professor to the sport of rugby, and strangely enough, it’s activities like rugby—molding the physicality of youth into the courage of manhood—that best propel us into the throws of the real world.

There’s brutal honesty portrayed in every facet of the story, a quality that’s often missing in modern writing, especially given the superficial culture promoted through social media. The foul-mouthed, beer-guzzling antics of rugby culture, though humorous at times, will make many wince. Graphically depicted are the carnal desires of sex, not for titillation, but as a reminder that the temptation is real in every man, and in a day and age where pornography is accessible at our fingertips, it’s a sin that is too-often ignored in fear of self-implication. “The Rape of the Planet” reminds us that there is unabashed evil in our world. Yet it’s evil that all good men must eventually confront, for evil has a way of metastasizing if left unabated.

And that’s the risk of honest writing. It exposes our own sins, insecurities, and weaknesses, and can give wicked men ammunition to tear you and others like you down. But, in doing so, there is also the potential for great reward. It shows the most depraved among us that there is salvation, no matter how much of a misfit they are on and off the field. That like them, we are severely flawed, but if we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, He has a way of destroying those demons and promoting the good within us; qualities like loyalty, determination, and most of all, courage that are developed on the rugby field.

And that’s what I find most admirable about this story; the courage my father displayed in writing it. In exposing his own vulnerabilities, he reminds us that like rugby, life can be quite muddy. It’s filled with messy situations, violent encounters, and requires decisions where morality is often muddled. And after a long-fought match, win or lose, we often come away better equipped to face the next, having persevered through the very end. And whether it’s between teammates, opponents, or even enemies on a battlefield, there is great honor that is shared amongst men in these environments.

I believe there’s a providential connection between the passage of time and the re-release of this book, for perhaps the greatest endorsement I can give is by the time I got to the last page, I had shed a tear. Like those characters in the epilogue, I’m wiser, married with kids, and have had time to reflect on the many trials of life. And despite the pain felt during many of those trials, the second reading truly made me grateful for those life experiences, and God willing, for a life that has several years left.

Nobody but my old man and the Lord will fully understand the amount of time, heart, and sacrifice that was put into writing this book. The unfortunate reality for most writers is that the fruits of their labor will never be fully realized. And having written a novel myself, I can sense his passion for this story, paying homage to the game of rugby and the teammates he met along the way. In doing so, he has brought honor, not just to them, but to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

If you are among the few who have stumbled across this gem, consider yourself blessed. You are in for an exciting adventure. You are about to dive into the rough and gruff world of rugby. You are about to see how the Holy Spirit can rebuild the most broken among us. And for that, I am honored to share this book with you.

Zachary Michael Andrews
Grizzly Chadams Publishing

The Touch of Life is available now on amazon.com. If this post spoke to you in anyway or if you know anybody who would enjoy a sports thriller based around rugby, please consider supporting us independent authors by purchasing a copy using the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H2PVQN5N

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No laughing about wee wees!

Recently, we visited this place called Lotte World. Think of it as Korea’s version of Disneyland. And though clearly a knockoff, it was still pretty fun. Of course, they had all sorts of rides, long lines, and a resort for guests to stay at.

A few pics from the park to give you an idea of what it’s all about.
From the Outside
And Inside…
They even have a parade at night.
Although Mrs. Lotte was a bit voluptuous for our taste (you should’ve seen her bunny friend. She was even worse!!!).

Thus, when we weren’t at the theme park, we were able to find some other activities to keep the kiddos occupied, one of which was swimming (sorry, no pics of the dad bod this time).

As we were finishing up one of our sessions at the pool and heading into the locker room, there were of course people doing what they needed to do in preparation for their swim. No problem. Completely normal. Though for a 5-year-old boy having limited exposure to locker rooms, there were obviously some oddities to take note of.

“Look daddy,” said my son taking notice of one of the gentlemen in the throws of a wardrobe change. “That man has a strange wee wee!” No doubt the man, as well as the rest of locker room patrons, heard what was said. As for his ability to understand English, I prayed it wasn’t great, but an educated guess tells me he understood in some capacity the words that were uttered by the boy.

Making the best out of such an awkward situation, I played it off as no big deal and replied to him simply and tersely. “Zander, let’s just focus on getting your clothes on. We will talk when we get back to the room.”

“But dad, his wee—”

“Zander!” I reminded him, and continued to do so a few more times before we exited the locker room, since that’s how an innocent 5-year-old is expected to act. Eventually, we were able to get out of there, where I was able to salvage enough credibility to recover from the situation.

Or so I thought…

I waited until we got back to the room to speak, since for his sake, it was only fair to converse in as private of a setting as possible; and the resort hallways and elevators just wouldn’t do. No need to embarrass the little guy after all.

Back at the room, we dropped our pool bag and I sat him on the bed, taking a moment to brace for the conversation at hand. “Zander, it’s important that we don’t point and talk about other people’s wee wees when we’re in places like the locker room.” As soon as those words came out of my mouth, my wife starts giggling, fully knowing she shouldn’t be. “Hun, it’s not funny!” I scolded, for in fact this was a serious talk between father and son—between man and young man—and I intended to keep it that way.

Instead of quelling her laughter, the comment only seemed to intensify it. However, doing my best to maintain composure, I continued with the boy. “Also, we shouldn’t point or look at other people’s wee wee’s when we’re in the locker room either.

“But daddy,” he started to reply, his voice softening and eyes lowering. “I didn’t mean to look at his wee wee.” At this point, I could hear my wife snickering on the other side of the bed, popping out just like that stupid dog does when you miss in Duck Hunt.

He always got on my nerves!!!

“Seriously, knock it off,” I reprimanded once again through gritted teeth. I suppose one could give her some credit for trying to hold it in, but in reality, she wasn’t helping the situation—One bit. And every time I yelled at her, it only seemed to make things worse. Again, understanding the importance of our conversation, I wasn’t going to let her behavior get in the way of what was right. I brushed it off as best as I could and continued.

“I know you didn’t, and if you see another person’s wee wee in the locker room, that’s ok. We just shouldn’t stare. Do you understand?” The boy just kept his head down, feeling like he had failed his old man. Of course, shame was never my intent, for all I wanted to do was use it as a teachable moment and prevent him from future troubles, as any good father would do. With that mindset, I changed tactics.

“Hey bud, why did you think his wee wee was strange?”

“Well, it was hairy and black all around, and in the middle there was a white dot.” At this point, my wife was pretty much dry heaving, like she was about to blow a gasket at a moment’s notice. I had to wrap this up quick before a catastrophe was afoot.

“Well, buddy, just like people look different, the same is with wee wees. Some have lots of hair and some don’t, Some are bigger, and there’s even some that are smaller…” I could sense heavy movement in the corner of the room. I glared over at my wife, who stood there convulsing like she was in the middle of a seizure. For the love of everything holy, keep it together! It was a tall order, one I doubted she could uphold, but I had no other choice. I had to continue.

“But the important thing to remember, is that just like people, it can be rude to talk about wee wees… even when they indeed, look a little… strange.”

What ensued was the equivalent of a MOAB going off in the desert. My wife howled with laughter, foregoing the last remnants of dignity in the room. “Hun! Seriously! You couldn’t control yourself for a few more seconds?!” The words served as fuel to her sense of “humor,” as the bellows came out heartier than before, further intensifying my frustration. Yet, outburst after livid outbursts only served to exacerbate her manic state, leaving me at the end of my rope.

“C’mon, Zander, let’s get out of here!” With the situation now far beyond my control and all other options exhausted, I signaled for a retreat. But as we walked down the hallway, I, as well as other guests, winced at the maniacal laughter echoing across the hallway. I hung my head in disgrace, fearing my well-intentioned chat may have resulted in years of therapy. What have I done…

At the end of the day, are there things I could’ve done differently? Sure, nobody’s perfect. Was there a better venue to have this talk at? Possibly, though in the fog of war, time and clarity are luxuries often not granted. And that’s what parenthood comes down to. You don’t have to be perfect, for half the battle is just showing up with the courage to have those difficult discussions, even at the risk of humiliation.

And you know what? Since then, wee wee talk has gone down considerably! And I can already see the growth, so much so that he earned the right to see his first movie last week at the theater (Project Hail Mary, which was quite good, and recommended if you haven’t seen it already. Check out the post here). And given how mature he acted throughout, I’m starting to think that this little talk about strange wee wees was a turning point! And I, for one, am proud of how far he’s come along.

So ladies, I know when us guys are having these types of talks, you may think they’re funny. And you’ll be tempted to use that as a prime opportunity for embarrassment and ridicule. But that’s ok. As men, and more importantly, as fathers, that’s a sacrifice we’re willing to make. Because at the end of the day, there is no wee wee strange enough that’ll keep a father from having a heart to heart with his son.

So remember that next time you see your husband, and don’t be afraid to cut him some slack every once in a while.

And what better way of showing your appreciation than with a good book for them to enjoy???

Or, if you simply enjoyed what you just read, feel free to support me by purchasing a copy of my book (and leaving a review if you’re ever so kind!)

-Grizzly Chadams

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Project Hail Mary: The Perfect Movie for the Easter Season

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

I reached a major milestone in my dad status this week: my son and I went to our first movie together, “Project Hail Mary.”

And it turns out, 5-year-olds are much smarter than we give them credit for.

It was a risk taking him to a sci-fi thriller, knowing there would be some tense scenes in there, but I was impressed with how well he was able to stay focused through the slower parts, understand the basic themes of the movie, and how he really grew to love both Grace and Rocky, the human/alien duo who meet and establish a strong friendship.

“So, it sounds like the risk paid off,” you say. Well, yes, but not without a few hurdles along the way…

He got attached to Rocky. I mean, really attached. And when it looked like Rocky wasn’t going to make it, it was just too much for one little guy to bear. He began rubbing his eyes, then started taking deep breaths, trying to keep it together in a room full of strangers. I wrapped my arms around him to let him know it was going to be all right, but as he climbed up on my lap and buried his face into my chest with tears filling his eyes, he uttered phrase in between sobs that was almost became too much for me to bear.

“Dad, can we go home now? Please…”

He knew that Rocky was likely a goner, and being wise beyond his years, his instincts were correct. He didn’t need to be there to see it, didn’t need the pain to fester by watching him in that comatose state. But as I held him in my arms at that moment, a simple phrase came into my head. “Have faith,” I whispered to him. “…Have faith.”

A few moments later, Rocky’s hand started to move, signaling to Grace that indeed, his friend was alive and well. “Look,” I said to my son with as much excitement as I could express in a silent movie theater. He turned his head, and to his relief, there Rocky was, moving, talking… interacting.

Rocky had risen.

For anybody who has watched a few movies in their day and has a basic understanding of story structure, you can recognize the “all hope is lost” plot point, when things look like they’re over, only for our hero to miraculously come back to life/save the day/finally bag the babe and find true love. But I can’t blame my little dude for reacting the way he did, for it wasn’t too long ago where I found myself rubbing my eyes in the theater during “Homeward Bound,” believing Shadow was never going to climb out of the muddy ditch at the end.

Geez, that scene still tears me apart to this day!

But as we walked home that afternoon, I couldn’t help but think of how the disciples felt after Jesus was buried in the tomb. It’s said that John was the only one of them who witnessed His crucifixion, for the rest of them, much like my son, couldn’t bear to see their Lord suffer and die. But unlike my son, they were full-grown men. And in the midst of despair, they too had lost faith.

Faith. It’s a concept that should be easy, yet when pressed, it easily crumbles. Just think when Peter walks on water to meet Jesus but quickly sinks, to which Jesus responds, “What little faith you have.” And if I were standing in Peter’s place that day, I don’t think I would’ve fared any better.

The good news is, we have several examples of how faith comes through. David when he slayed Goliath, Daneil in the lion’s den, and most notably when Jesus showed faith by obeying his Father with the words “Thy will be done.” And in the ultimate show of love, He willingly gave up His life to save us all from our sin.

Then, three days later, he rose from the grave.

Some of the greatest stories have elements of the greatest story of all time, which is why I think my son, and many others like him have resonated with Project Hail Mary so much. Aside from the fact that it’s free of foul language and explicit content (which actually is a big deal for me these days), it has elements of what’s good, true and beautiful in life. How love and sacrifice are some of the highest virtues. Why we hold in reverence those who make the ultimate sacrifices, for that is the highest form of love somebody can give. And like Rocky showed when he was willing to sacrifice his life, not just for his friend but for both his and Grace’s planets, it’s a replication of the love that Jesus showed 2000 years ago on the cross, a love that none of us deserved but received regardless… which is why they call it love.

So, if you need a great pick me up, or if you’re in need of a good activity to do with the family this Easter weekend, I would highly recommend seeing Project Hail Mary. And if you’re a dad trying to find a way to relate the Easter story to your son, it’s the perfect complement to the season.

If you enjoyed this post and want to support my work, please check out some of my other work available on Amazon.com.

And if you like what you see, please leave a review!

-Zack

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All-American Halftime Show Challenge: Let’s Transform More Kid Rocks into Robert Ritchies

From the buzz I’m seeing on Facebook and other social media sites, it seems that the All-American Halftime Show that Turning Point USA put on was effective. And I, for one, am happy, since it seems like the NFL is becoming less interested in representing people like me, so I hope Turning Point can continue to build off this.

But beyond just the entertainment value was something personal to me, and that was the transformation of Kid Rock.

I was a huge fan of Kid Rock my freshman year of high school. From a young adolescence in the thrusts of puberty, his foul-mouthed, hard-hitting style of rock and roll spoke directly to the rush of testosterone suddenly flooding my body. That wasn’t, of course, without great risk for a teenage boy.

Not only did his album include derogatory lyrics, but the album title alone of his first major release “Devil Without a Cause” provided enough caution for any Christian parents. And just to add an extra level of flair, as soon as you opened the case, the CD itself displayed a giant middle finger (in case you didn’t get the message). Needless to say, my fanaticism for Kid Rock was kept on the downlow to prevent a hard lecture and potential butt whippin’ from my mom.

Not to Mention the PARENTAL ADVISORY Sticker!!!

Fast forward almost 30 years (hard to believe it was that long ago), and seeing him play the title track to that album “Bawitdaba” made me wince a bit at first. And for a moment, I really thought that he and the team at Turning Point really missed the mark.

Then, he did something that surprised me.

After a string instrument interlude, he was reintroduced, not as Kid Rock, but by his real name, Robert Ritchie. He stripped away his old attire to something much more humble, and instead of singing about “the midnight glances at the topless dancers,” he gave a much more uplifting message. And it was during that song, where he took a moment to proclaim the gospel.

The more I think about this, I believe the song selections (and even the choice to lip sync the first song, given some of the lip-syncing controversies that float around with live performances) were intentional. And in a strange way, they were touching, for it reflected some of the transformation that I’ve seen in my life. Now, I was nowhere near the level that Kid Rock experienced, from his walkout at Woodstock 99 in a pimp’s coat to his hard partying and dating of some of the most beautiful women a man can get his hands on. But if I were in his position, would I be willing to resist some of those same temptations? Truth be told, I probably would’ve found myself indulging in some of the same excesses.

Yet, with his reintroduction as Robert Ritchie and his proclamation of the gospel, it was as if he was making a statement. “Here I am Lord, born again and ready to serve.” After all, new names have often been given by God and Jesus. Abram to Abraham, Jacob to Israel, Saul to Paul, Simon to Peter, and on and on.

Now that Robert has proclaimed the truth, will he completely shed his previous lifestyle and stay on the narrow road? I certainly hope so, and will pray that he does, for I believe his story going from the “devil without a cause” to unapologetically preaching the name of Jesus in front of 22 million plus people (I believe that was the final estimated number, and a conservative one at that) is a powerful one. It is a difficult road, however, and many in his space have stumbled (think Kanye), so I encourage others to pray for him as well (for he’ll certainly need all the help he can get).

But this now leaves a challenge to us believers. There are many Kid Rocks among us. Those who have indulged in sinful lifestyles, whether it be promiscuity, drunkenness, drug use, or been stuck in idolatrous behavior. There are probably many of those who are holding onto sin deep in their heart that is keeping them from accepting salvation. How will we minister to those? They may be foul-mouthed partiers, but they also, like Kid Rock, understand that there is a deeper truth. That they’re longing for change… that they’re longing for Christ.

Because though we may have cringed listening to his first song, that’s ok, because we weren’t his target audience. They were.

Transformation doesn’t come easy, and it often doesn’t happen overnight. And for those of us who grew up in a church culture who shunned this type of behavior, it will be quite uncomfortable (which is probably the point). But just like how Jesus met the lepers, tax collectors, prostitutes, and the most broken and misfit in society, we can step out of our comfort zones to welcome them into discipleship. There is a hunger amongst many of us sheep that have strayed from the flock, and if we allow it, the Holy Spirit will work through all of us to transform lives.

So let’s welcome in the Kid Rocks among us, and through the power of Christ, let’s turn them into Robert Ritchies.

If you enjoyed this blog, please consider supporting some of my other work. Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep takes the same message of a broken young man and rebuilding him anew, and The Significance of a Birthday is a great birthday message (and gift) for all ages, emphasizing the miracle of life and how much you changed the world the day you entered it.

Thank you, and God bless.

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We Must Stop the Evil in Minnesota Before Our Kids are Forced to…

I’ll probably lose some friends or followers over this post. So be it. I love my kids and family more than any favor I may receive on social media, and I need to speak up.

What’s going on in Minnesota right now is evil. And I’m not talking about ICE. I’m talking about the so-called “protests.”

I watched the video of the events leading up to Alex Pretti being shot. And yes, it’s a tragedy, but not surprising. When you have people resisting and interfering with arrests, organizing federal law enforcement disruptions, blowing whistles and creating stressful situations for ordinary people doing a dangerous job, I’m actually surprised more of these incidents haven’t occurred given the laws of human nature. And for those agents who have been able to keep their cool and shown restraint during this time, much kudos and respect to you.

But the real tragedy of this, whether he realized it or not, is that this individual served his master well, and from the looks of him and his activities, I’m guessing he received his reward in full and is currently being tormented in hell. Yes, I know that’s harsh to say at this time, but it’s also a time not to mince words, because the devil will use all of us the same, and he doesn’t care what happens. And I rather not see my friends meet that same fate.

And here’s the part I really don’t want to say, for I have lots of friends and family who belong to this party, but again, but just like a loving friend would tell his best bud if his girlfriend was cheating on him, it needs to be said. The Democrat Party has become demonic.

Am I calling all Democrats demonic? No, but if you consider yourself a member, you need to confronted with that fact, and I urge you to cut ties, for what’s going on is evil. I could list numerous examples, from abortion on demand, promoting transgenderism on children, to the current sewing of chaos among our cities for people trying to get bad guys and enforce the law. Though it may hurt those of you who vote Democrat, hell is worse, and I would not be considered a loving friend if I weren’t to warn you of that.

And just to get this out of the way, I’m not even saying to become a Republican, because Lord knows we have several problems on our side, cowardice and comfort being on the top of that list. And if I’m being honest, I’m almost more furious at them for their lack of action! I know full well because I’ve been among the cowardly class most of my life and trying to work myself out of it. I may not have a lot of influence or power, but if I’m calling them to act, then I better put my money where my mouth is and do something for once.

Problems rarely, if ever, get better with time. When the check engine light comes on in your car, how many times have you said “Gee, I’ll just wait until it goes away,” and the problem’s solved? No. What happens is you end up with a bigger problem and bigger bill down the line. And it’s a history lesson we’ve sadly had to learn several times. If nations would’ve stood up to Hitler in the mid-1930’s, 6 million or so more Jews would’ve been saved. If the international community wouldn’t have pressured Irael to capitulate the Hamas (or if Israel would’ve told them to pound sand), we may not have had an October 7th attack and a resulting war that ravished Gaza because of it. At the time, the risk made these decisions unpopular, but by not following through, the problem was kicked down the road and made worse… much worse.

Which is what I fear in this situation. If these agitators, rioters, and evil-doers (sorry, not going to call them protestors, because they aren’t engaging in good-faith protesting), are not put down (figuratively, for all you dinguses out there who will want to take that as literal), this will not simply go away. It will get worse to the point of civil war with several more casualties.

Do you think it’s a coincidence that people like Nick Fuentes and Andrew Tate have grown in popularity? Or how much Tucker Carlson has deconstructed seeing the evil that is happening in our own country? For how much I despise their belief systems, I’m actually coming to understand why they believe what they believe when moral authority is at an all-time low! The more we push chaos and lawlessness on future generations, and the more the church and other “good” men stands on the sidelines and refuse to act, the further things will boil over until it ignites. And it won’t be us fighting it. It will very likely be my son and your sons. And no, I do not want to pass that onto him, nor should you to your kids. You may not believe me, but history has a different track record, and I’d like to avoid that at all costs.

And if that happens, the devil wins, and America loses. And frankly, if we can’t change our ways as a nation, then we probably deserve to lose, just like the Israelites in the book of Jerimiah (try that book of the bible if you want a real mood killer)! The Lord will find another nation to carry out his will, or maybe Jesus will finally come back with a robe dipped in blood and a sword in his mouth. But if I claim to be a God-fearing man, then I can’t and won’t be silent in this time, and when the time comes, I don’t want to stand before my creator as a coward.

So how about we take a stand against evil. Let’s maybe let’s take a rare collective sacrifice as a generation (or multiple) so we can pass on the America we had to our kids. There’s lots to do, and I have a lot more I can do. But speaking truth and standing up for what’s right is at least a place to start. I encourage you to do the same.

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Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep – My First Novel

It took me twelve years.

Twelve years, twenty rewrites, and God knows how many late nights at coffee shops to get to this point, but I’m finally finished.

My first published novel:

Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep

This has been a very personal project for me. Not just because of the amount of time and work I put into it, but also because it represents a journey that almost all of us have or will go through at some point, and that’s how to say goodbye to a loved one.

It’s an experience I certainly went through (and have gone through a few times now), and a day I can remember vividly: coming home to my dog of 12 years in the process of dying.

That morning, all I could do was sit next to her and shed a tear, wishing we could share one last run together… wishing she could have one more chance to be a dog before we had to say goodbye. During that moment, I prayed to God. Not so much asking him for that chance, for it was a wish I didn’t deserve, but it was more that I talked to him… I lamented the inevitable loss of my dog, and the devastation I felt. I guess in the end I knew he wasn’t going to grant me that wish… it was just nice to have somebody to talk to.

Me and Maggie, Circa 2012

As the day progressed, there were a lot of strange events that shaped how I would write this book, starting with going to the gun range with my sister’s boyfriend at the time to blow off some steam, to even having somebody mention to me in a half-serious way “I can help you put her down,” which led me to consider for a moment, “is this something I need to do,” and “if I were forced to be the one to put her down, how would I do it?”

With so much going through my mind, I needed to get away—needed time to process. So, I did what any normal person would do: pop in a little Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” and run.

And that’s what I did. I started running… for miles.

During that run, each song that played invoked a different emotion. I was confused, then scared, then sad, then angry—FURIOUS! Fury that manifested into a dead sprint, leading me to almost barf on the side of the road.

Then, there was a sense of emptiness, but strangely enough, as I wrapped up my run, there was even some resolve. And as the days and weeks went on, more strange events took place. Events that were almost too coincidental…

Almost as if in an unexpected way, God listened and answered my prayers… just not quite the way I imagined he would.

It was a combination of events and emotions of which I felt compelled to capture. So, I started writing.

At first, I had no idea what I was doing, and no idea this would turn into a novel, which is partly why it took so long. But looking back, there was also a lot of growth I needed to go through in order to tell the story properly. After all, I started writing as a young professional in my 20’s, and though on the outside I was successful, there was a large part of me that felt discontent with life, almost as if the world I was sold wasn’t what I received.

Since then, I’ve gotten married, had kids, have had the privilege of living in a few different countries, and even went through a few miserable global events that I’d rather forget about.

But those experiences were an integral part of me to start my journey back to my Christian faith, which lead me to read the bible cover to cover for the first time. And for the first time in my life, I was finally able to understand the true meaning of love and the power it has.

And that’s what’s at the core of what this book is about: A story of a young man, which during such a despairing event, embarks on an emotional, physical, and spiritual journey and rediscovers the true meaning of love and the power it has to overcome death and bring hope in the darkest of times.

So, if you’ve gone through this experience before, this book will remind you that you are not alone.

If you feel or have ever felt stuck in life and not sure how to move forward, this book will give you hope to climb out of that valley.

And if you simply enjoy a good coming-of-age story about love and redemption, I think you’ll appreciate this book, for it speaks to many of the struggles those in my generation have gone through (and likely you may have gone through) in life.

If you are interested in supporting me and purchasing a copy, this is available on amazon.com (link here). I would love for your support and for you to share with friends, family, and anybody else who you think would enjoy this book and benefit from its message.

Lastly, I can’t end this without a slew of thank you’s:

Silverdale Starbucks (Bucklin’ Hill Road) homies – thank you for making me feel at home all those years by inviting me in and serving me while I worked on this. If you worked there and ever served me, feel free to send me a message, and I’ll hook you up with a copy.

To Chanel from Athens – Thank you for being the first to read this book. It meant a lot to me that you took the time to read this and your feedback was extremely valuable.

To my old man for doing a big proofread/copyedit job for me. Not only did it save me lots of money, but much time and energy was put into helping me get across the finish line.

Oh, and my bud Damian too, for doing a few last minute quality assurance checks.

To my teachers of the past, Mr. Healey and Mr. Black (may you rest in peace). Thank you for planting the seed of storytelling at a young age (for I wasn’t always a kid who enjoyed reading and writing). You have been inspirations not only to me, but to all those who you taught.

And last but not least, thank you to my wife and her support, especially this last year as she watched the kids, allowing me to take time to go down to the coffee shops to wrap this project up. I couldn’t have done it without her.

And of course there are a million other people who I could (and should) thank, but unfortunately, it’s impossible for me to remember everybody and give them the credit that’s due. Fortunately, there’s a Big Guy upstairs who knows this stuff, and he’ll reward you accordingly, whether it’s in this life or the next.

So in general, thank you all for your support, and I really hope you enjoy this book, and I’m so glad that after 12 years, I finally get to share it with you. And if you’re able and willing, please leave a review on amazon.com. Reviews are one of the biggest things that help independent authors like me get exposure and share the story with the rest of the world, so your willingness to review means the world to me.

If you have any questions about the book or have questions (or are interested) in learning about writing and the process of writing a book, please leave a comment below, as I would love to share with you my knowledge and experience.

Thank you all again, and may God bless.

Sincerely,

Zachary Michael Andrews

Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep is Available on Amazon:

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Turning Point: Charlie Kirk took the bullet I deserved

I never considered myself a huge Charlie Kirk fan. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the guy and appreciated his work, and would occasionally watch his content when it popped up on the algorithm, but I never followed him on social media. So in a way, it’s strange how much I’ve been mourning the death of somebody I never knew. But after the initial shock, I understood why I was so crushed by the news, and why many others were as well.

Charlie Kirk represented people like me. But even more than that… he was among the best of us.

And if I’m being honest, I saw in Charlie Kirk a better man than me. I saw a man who didn’t give up hope, even through some dark times. I saw a happy warrior, someone with the courage to go straight to the battle of ideas with the wisdom. He had the emotional intelligence to not just defend his ideas, but to sway others to his side in a positive manner. In Charlie Kirk, I saw a man who emulated his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and though he probably made plenty of mistakes in his life, he looked to be much closer to Him than I certainly was.

Which is why the enemy, aka Satan (for he truly is the enemy of all of us), had him murdered.

A year ago, I was faced with a difficult choice. A choice that tested my faith… a test I failed miserably. It was pride month, and my office I was overseeing was tasked to put up a banner in honor of it. Though I have friends with people who consider themselves among the LGBT community and try to show love as best as possible to them, as a Christian man, I’m called not to take part in those activities. I’m called to take the narrow road and to make those hard decisions in obedience to God, even if it costs me friendships, money, or my job. During that time, I prepared myself to have a talk with management about it, telling them I needed to respectfully abstain from participating. But when it came time to meet, I cowered out. I didn’t bring it up, and ended up going along to get along. In ways, I acted like Peter when he denied Christ those three times before the rooster crow.

I’ve thought about that incident several times today, how I allowed that event to crush my spirits. And while I kept my head down and stayed out of the fight, people like Charlie Kirk put the team on their backs. He was out there battling when very few others would—when the rest of us had already given up. If Charlie were in my shoes, he wouldn’t have been a coward. He would’ve done the right thing, because it’s what he did his whole life.

And his reward? He doesn’t get to kiss his children goodnight ever again. He doesn’t get to watch them grow up. He doesn’t get to grow old with his wife and have the joy of seeing his grandchildren. Instead, he got a bullet.

And what eats at me more than anything about this, is that it’s a bullet I deserved, not him.

It’s that thought that has brought me to tears more than once today for a man I never met. I can only imagine it’s the same reason many men like me have also found themselves weeping. In Charlie’s short life, he inspired millions, changed minds on his campus travels, and built one of the most influential political organizations in the world. He was so influential, that it’s difficult not to compare him to another man who only made it to His early 30’s before he was murdered. A man who died the death we deserved! A man who lived the sinless life that we could not. A man who out of a love we did not deserve, took it upon Himself to take our sins and die the most excruciating death on the cross.

Now, if Charlie were alive today, I’d be willing to bet he would never compare himself to Christ. Yet, I can’t help but reflect on both their lives while feeling a weight of shame with my own. Shame that I haven’t shown the love, courage and obedience to my Lord and Savior that Charlie showed in his. Shame at how much I’ve squandered my talents while Charlie faithfully carried his out. And perhaps most shameful is through a grace I don’t deserve, I’m still here. Despite my failures and disobedience, I was able to eat dinner with my family tonight, pick my son up from the bus stop with my wife, and lay my daughter down to sleep, all things Charlie was deprived of through an utter act of evil.

Romans 8:28 states that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” a verse that reminds us that even through tragedy and evil deeds done to believers, God finds a way to use those events to ultimately glorify Him. And with that, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Charlie’s organization was named Turning Point USA.

2,000 years ago when he saw the resurrected Christ, Peter turned from a coward, into a courageous man willing to die for his Lord and Savior, so much that when he was crucified for spreading the gospel, he requested to be done so upside down, stating he was not worthy of being crucified like Jesus. This too can be a turning point for us. This can be a time to reverse course, put down our idols and comforts, whether it be Netflix, Fox News, X, the NFL, or Call of Duty, and confront the evils around us to make our communities a better place for our families.

There is no doubt we live in dark times, and for millennials like me, we often reminisce about life in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, wishing we could go back to simpler times, times when the world seemed so much more peaceful, and much more… easy. When those thoughts pop into my head, every now and then, I’m reminded of wise words told by a far wiser man than I could ever be:

We are put here on this Earth and at this time for a reason. And with that comes a great opportunity, for although the enemy may have killed Charlie Kirk, they did not kill His spirit, the same spirit that flowed through Charlie, a spirit I believe is flowing through many of us today. We have an opportunity to go out into the world, to honor and serve Him. To spread the gospel. We have an opportunity, like Charlie Kirk, to hear the words, “well done, good and faithful servant,” from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Let’s go forth and make a difference in this world. Let’s become the men and women we were called to be.

-GC

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Kalispera Kai Kali Vrathia

September 14th, 2024

Good morning, Rich.

I’ve been up since around 3 or 4 AM this morning.  My little girl has been up since around 4 in the morning, and who can blame her?  She’s probably just as jet lagged as I am!  So, I took her out walking around early in the morning, and it hit me.  I can no longer say Kalimera to you, for returned home a few days ago.

I know it’s home, and the US will always be my home, but these Greeks, they were good to me.  And let me tell ya, Rich, I’m already missing the heck out of them, and for a while, I just won’t be my regular self.

These guys I worked with… Let’s just say I’d bet you get along with em’ just fine, sort of like how we get along with our buddy Mike.  Because no matter how much of a dingus he can be, by golly, he’s still family, and we still love em’!  And that’s the same with these guys as well.  They were family to me, and I loved them as if they were my brothers and sisters.  I just hope I get to see them all again, whether it’s this life or the next.

I put together a little slideshow of the memories I had in Greece.  You’ve probably seen most of them, but it’s a good summary of my time here.  Just looking at it and listening to the music brings a tear to my eye.

Rich, I’m not one to get sentimental, but I’m not one to lie either, and the truth is, I’m going to miss this place. The people, the functional madness that somehow keeps things running, the beauty of the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas, the white and blue buildings on every Greek island, Taking my son to the cafe on a Saturday Morning for some spanakopita, A cappuccinos and lattes for $2.50–Rich, let me tell ya, I went to Starbucks this morning for a latte… over 6 dollars and 50 cents! I couldn’t believe it! And the service was terrible too! I walked in, and they didn’t serve me for almost 5 minutes–let alone acknowledge I was even there! Last time I go there–See, I haven’t even been here a full day and I’m already worked up!

I suppose the moral of the story is, we have it pretty good in the States and like you, I’m darn proud to be an American, but at the same time, I can really learn to appreciate different cultures, especially ones like Greece. After all, they did influence a lot of what became of western society, so we have a lot to thank them for. And if you ask any Greek, they’ll swear that every word in the English language comes from Greek words (and that’s the honest truth, not just a joke from the Big Fat Greek Wedding movie)!

We’re home for about a month or so, and then it’s off to our next adventure, South Korea.  So far, I hear good things, and it’ll be great for the kids.  Dennis Rodman raves about the North, but from what I hear, it’s hard to get in.  Apparently, it’s so good, that most people don’t ever leave, but you know me, I’m not really into those types of crowds who think there better than everybody, so if Mr. Kim Jong Un wants to be exclusive, then so be it.  I’ll take my money where I’m welcome.

I got one last token of appreciation for my Greek travels coming your way.  I know how much of a coin collector you are, so I have this one coming your way.  I know it’s not Navy, but the Marines aren’t so bad, and if you serve the country in uniform, then you’re alright with me.

So, although our Greek adventures have concluded, we have some new adventures just around the corner.  Korea will be different, and it surely won’t be Greece, but I think it will be good, and I’m looking forward to sharing the stories with you.

So until next time, as the Greek’s say, “Kalispera kai kali vrathia!”

And of course, I can’t end this without a clip from one of the all time most famous Greeks, Zorba!

Oh, and when you do make it out there, Rich, make sure they teach you how to dance…

Very respectfully,

Zack

PS: If you enjoyed reading the story of our Greek Adventures, please consider checking out a copy of my book “The Significance of a Birthday”. It also makes a great birthday gift, not just for children, but for people of all ages!

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Idolatry and the NFL – How Our Worship of Sports is Ruining the Experience

Taking a quick detour from my Greek adventures, as this has been blowing up on social media and been sort of eating at me.

There is a clip going around of a Packers fan (a young woman) being berated by an Eagles fan, or who I will term “bully” who proceeds to call her an ugly “See U Next Tuesday” if you get the reference.

***Warning, harsh language***

Lately, I haven’t been commenting on these types of things, for there seems to be plenty of that on twitter and other social media sites, but I came across a clip from Matt Walsh, who berated the woman’s fiancée for not “defending her honor.”

I usually appreciate Matt Walsh’s commentary, for I do believe there are many places in today’s society that require a no-nonsense approach to solving issues, and his deadpanned style of humor can actually not just be informative, but quite entertaining in some of his documentaries.  But one foible of his I’ve noticed is he seems to lack grace with men in certain issues, or at least that’s the perception he gives, when I think grace is required as we live in a fallen world.

Also, in this particular commentary, I think he misses the broader picture, something that’s an even greater plague on our society, which is the idolatry of this game that so many of us are wrapped up in.  And when I say “us,” I’m including myself, for I can be just as guilty as everybody else.

First, let’s talk about manliness and defending your honor.  Unfortunately, like he mentioned, the clip that’s shown doesn’t share the entire story.  There could’ve been an altercation between the two prior, and the guy filming could’ve had a few extra words to say after he stopped recording.  But  judging by the woman and the fact that she was sitting in front, it’s hard for me to believe she did anything egregious other than being a typical fan rooting for her team.  And let’s just assume the man recording left it at and didn’t say anything the rest of the game to him.  I’m tempted to say “I would’ve done this, or that…” but doing so would simply be Monday morning quarterbacking the situation, of which there’s already enough of that going on.

But the question remains, should he have gone and punched or physically assaulted the bully in the face and risked going to jail or the hospital?

I think it’s worth nothing that in these situations, we should make a distinction between being courageous and being stupid.  If you’re on a date and take a wrong turn down a street and suddenly, you’re surrounded by a group of dangerous robbers, one of whom insults your wife/fiancée/girlfriend.  Should your first reaction to attack him?  I would say no, for your duty is to get her out of harms away above teaching that guy a lesson and live to fight another day, of which attacking one of them would simply rope you in to doing exactly what they wanted you to do.

And though going to an NFL game is a little different, the concept still holds.  The woman and her fiancée were in a no win situation, surrounded by people of which were he to act as Matt suggested, he would be giving in to exactly what the bully wants, which is to create a situation where he could easily beat up a fan of the opposing team with little repercussions, with the excuse “he threw the first punch.”

But while people can debate whether or not the guy filming violated the man-code for not defending his fiancée’s honor, I think the better question is, “where were the other men?”  The bully was apparently with his two friends, whom were surrounded by several other people, of which more than half were also men, who sat around couldn’t care less as a woman was being called vile names?  Nobody had the gall to say, “hey bud, knock it off!”???  We can harp on the guy filming all we want, but when it comes down to it, he’s closer to powerless in this situation than we would like to believe, while being surrounded by people who actually have the authority to step in and correct the bully’s behavior.  And I’m not even suggesting physical confrontation, but imagine if another Philly fan went over to him and said something like, “before we are Packers fans or Eagles fans, we are human beings, and we don’t treat people like that!”  That guy probably would’ve been a bit humbled, maybe even apologized, and would probably still have a job, for it’s said that the company he works for has since terminated him as an employee.

I think if we take an honest look at ourselves as men, there are times where we’re in positions of authority for others who do not have that power, and at the risk of being uncomfortable, we simply do not act.  And I know at least for myself, I can do better.

But the broader issue at stake that is mostly ignored here is the idolatry of our sports teams.  And I get that there’s many forms of idolatry in this world, but I think it’s safe to say that the NFL, being as big as it is, is one form that has captured many of us.

I specifically remember taking my wife (then my girlfriend) to a Packers/Redskins game a few months after we started dating.  I did my usual routine of getting super excited, drinking a little too much, hooting and hollering and heckling Redskins fans and players, and overall acting like a fool, something I easily got away with as a single man (or more appropriately, a single boy).  The next day, she made it crystal clear that I would not be acting like that ever again.

And she was correct.  My behavior was childish, and looking back at how I acted as a fan in my 20’s and early 30’s, I’m a bit embarrassed to say the least.  The arrogance I displayed when my team won, the meltdowns I publicly had when they lost, and in my more “matured” response, I would talk as if my team was the center of my life, which is the definition of idolatry, and as a Christian man, I was breaking that commandment day in and day out.  Through marriage, having children, and also living outside the US for the last couple of years, I’ve thankfully been able to take a step back and not make football the center of my life.  But although I may not publicly display it, in my heart, there are times when those feelings of hatred and animosity towards rival teams’ surface, and there’s no good reason for it.

It’s this idolatry that causes people like the bully in the video to talk to that woman that way, because his sports team, “must be placed higher than anything else, and anything that gets in the way of this must be torn down, belittled, and shamed.”  It is literally the worship of a sports team, and being that the Eagles have only won one Super Bowl, it is worship that will let him down more often than not (as it will let down all of us, no matter what team we root for).  It’s forms of this idolatry that prevent people from doing the right thing, because doing so may make us uncomfortable and violate whatever the idol commands against, which in this case, includes diminishing the sacredness that comes with rooting for our team.

A point was also made that, “you should simply not take your fiancée to an Eagles game period.”  And to a certain extent, I get that, for I probably wouldn’t take my son to an NFL game until he’s near adulthood for that reason.  But how sad is that, that we’re starting to collectively accept that a professional sports game is no place to bring your family?  I can remember how special it was as a kid when my mom and dad took us to a Mariners game and getting to see Ken Griffey Jr. hit a home run.  And now as an adult, I feel that I won’t be able to give that experience to my children because some adults may ruin it, again, all for the sake of idolatry?  And imagine if we held this standard all the way?  “Oh, we can’t go to Billy’s high-school football tonight because he’s playing an away game, and the fans say disgusting things to our wives and children…”  That would not be tolerated on that level, and the same should go for the professional level as well.

I’ve heard Philly has a reputation, as seen by this video of a Viking’s fan (and mind you, that I am certainly no fan of the Vikings), which I would hope the leadership in the Eagles organization and the NFL would make strides to correct this, for it’s making ordinary people akin to rabid animals in the wild.

Again, language warning

But even if it doesn’t exist to this extent with other NFL franchises, other forms of idolatry still do.  We let these teams control our emotions, our behavior, how our weeks, months, and years will go, and we act like it’s the center of the universe.  I say, let’s try to find something else to put front and center, my recommendation being Jesus Christ.  And I get that not everybody is a Christian like me, but there are certainly other things we can put before football in our lives, our family and friends being one.

Until we do that, football, and sports in general, will continue to become less and less enjoyable to watch, both for the bullies and the innocent among us.

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Kalimera! Fall 2024

September 12th, 2024 – France… No Wonder They Call it Les Misérables!

Kalimera, Rich.  I wish I could tell you I was in a better mood, but the times have their way of catching even the best of us off guard…

We just got back from this place called France, and boy, what a dud!  Everybody acts like it’s the bee’s knees, but you saw just as I did on the Olympics when that freaky lookin’ blue guy showed up!  The warning signs were there, but unfortunately, the wedding would go on with or without us, and there was nothing I could do about it!

I mean, c’mon! What a weirdo!!!

Let’s get this out of the way first and foremost.  French babes, waaaay overrated!  I know it doesn’t matter to us since we’re happily married men and all, but if it came down to it and I had to choose, I’d take a good Greek woman over them, any day!

And whenever they have lunch or dinner, it’s like it takes 3 hours just to get through the dang meal!  It’s like they take a bite, then talk for 20 minutes, then take another bite, and after one course is done, it’s more waiting and more talking!  I mean, let’s get with the program guys!  I have things to do and people to see!

And that’s another thing!  The food ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be either!  The cheese smells, I ask for a steak and they give me this pate crap, but they have this stuff called “foie gras,” which I’m sorry, but I’m not impressed!  I think there was only one restaurant here that was worth the trip for me, but the wife was in a hurry to get out of there, so I barely got a picture of it for ya.

You and me, Rich… we’re good ol’ fashioned meat and potatoes types of guys, and I’ll hand it to the Greeks, they do meat and potatoes probably as good as anybody I know!  Just give me a nice hunk of souvlaki, a side of fried potatoes and a nice pint of beer and I’m satisfied!

Oh, and here’s the worst part!  Look what they did to our bags!

My bag, toast!

Sunglasses? Toast.

iPhone cord? Done for…

Nice shirt?  Well, it was…

And worst of all, LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY GREEN BAY PACKERS SHORTS!!! HOW COULD THEY DO SUCH A THING?!?!?!

Completely unacceptable.  I mean, how does something like that happen?  And just imagine if this was Mike and his Eagles’ shorts? Geez Louis you wouldn’t hear the end of it! I bet ya he’d be complain at the office for weeks!!!

Oh, they also ruined one of my wife’s handbags. Not sure what YSL stands for, but all’s I know is she was even more upset than I was!

Well, at least I could salvage a few moments with some pictures…

Oh, and Grandma and Grandpa got to come visit as well, so I suppose that’s all right…

And to add to the craziness, we get back in town with only days left to spare, and this dude shows up!

I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I mean, we’re already running around like a bunch of chickens with our heads cut off! The last thing I need is some hot shot coming around making things worse! He did like my Green Bay Packers lanyard, so I guess he was alright in the end.  Probably heard good things about Wisconsin and would like to visit someday.  Who knows?!?!

Well, gotta go finish packing.  Looks like I’ll be up for a while.  Wish me luck!

Part 15: Kalispera Kai Kali Vrathia.

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