I miss radio.

There.

I said it. I miss radio.

Not the mundane things like paying royalties and juggling rotations, or even the excitement of getting new music in the mail. What I really miss is the emails I would get at just the right time. When the studio computer needed work and the royalties were past due and I was just about ready to give up. Those emails would come in.

Telling me that something that we played or said made a difference in someones life. An eternal difference. And it suddenly was worth every second I put into it. I miss making a difference. I miss seeing lives changed.

I often wonder when I gave up. At what point did I make the choice that I would take the easy path of working my job and nothing more?

Was it when someone I considered a friend and a partner in ministry filed a restraining order against my family so we couldn't interact with their kids? Was it when the local churches failed to show the moral fortitude that should have come easily and refused to stand up for us? Maybe. I know that is when organized religion started to make me throw up a little every time I was around it.

All I know is that it quickly became too painful for me to reach people through radio. We sold the station, and I focused on escape.

I miss radio.