What I’ve Learned so Far About Life

Life ain’t a straight line. It’s not fair, it’s not simple, and it sure doesn’t wait on you to get your act together.

I’ve learned life will knock you flat more times than you think is reasonable, and just when you think you’re done, it hands you something beautiful.

People come and go. Some stay. Some wreck you. Some save you without ever knowing it. And sometimes, it’s the same person doing all three.

What matters is showing up—being real, and not pretending you’ve got it figured out.

About God

God’s not the preacher in the pulpit telling you to try harder.

God’s been in the silence. In the tears. In the porch swing moments. In the second chances.

I used to think God just wanted me to serve and obey. Now I know He wants me whole, free, and home.

I’ve learned God doesn’t waste anything—not even the pain, not even the years I thought were lost.

About Me

I’m not bulletproof, but I’ve taken a lot of hits and I’m still standing.

I’ve carried too much for too long. I’ve hid behind work and projects because it was easier than feeling what was real.

But I’ve also learned I’ve got more heart than I gave myself credit for. I’ve learned I can sit in the hard stuff. I can love people who are hard to love. I can still believe in better days.

About Grief

Grief is a ghost with a key to the front door.

You can’t outrun it, and you can’t outwork it. It waits. It teaches.

I buried my grief so deep I didn’t even realize it was shaping me.

But now I see—grief isn’t weakness. It’s proof that I loved someone more than life itself.

And now, I carry that love forward. Not as a wound—but as a fire.

About Living

Living isn’t just getting through the day.

It’s paying attention. It’s listening to the quiet voice that says, “Don’t miss this.”

It’s letting someone in, even when you’re scared they’ll leave.

Living is remembering that I still have breath—and that means I still have purpose.

About Hope

Hope isn’t loud. It doesn’t kick the door down.

It whispers. It sits with you. It says, “Try again.”

I’ve had every reason to quit—and yet, I don’t.

That’s hope. That’s grace.

I’ve learned hope comes in strange forms—a text, a glance, a moment when the world slows down and something just feels right.

Hope is still choosing to build. Still choosing to believe.

And if I’m honest, sometimes the person who changed me didn’t preach, didn’t fix, didn’t even try.

Just listened. Just stayed. Just saw me.

And something in me started to shift.

Maybe that’s what God does, too. Just shows up—and stays.

And for the first time in a long time…

That’s enough.

I’ve been asking myself lately why I’ve done all of this.

I’ve been asking myself lately why I’ve done all of this.
Why, in 1989, I sat in the yard with a notebook computer, working while my son played nearby — but not really paying attention to him. Why I’ve poured 65 to 80 hours a week into work, every week, from college right up to now at age 67 — through Evergreen, ministry, and community service.

I can see the pattern stretching back decades.
In college, I juggled studying and part-time jobs because I thought that’s what it took to make something of myself. In 1993, I turned down a safe regional manager’s job because I wanted the freedom to build my own thing. I consulted for 26 years, worked in co-ops for 5, then left under a cloud. I started consulting again, built a WISP to $55K a month and 730 customers in two years, only to be dismissed by the majority owner for lack of fealty. Ninety days later, I started Evergreen — and I’ve been slogging ever since.

Somewhere along the way, I built my life around the belief that it was my job to build, to fix, to carry. That I should never settle for “good enough.” That if something needed to be done, I should be the one to do it — even if it meant giving up comfort, time, or relationships.

I’ve lost everything more than once, in cycles of 8 to 10 years. I’ve rebuilt more than once. And in between, I’ve driven myself with an intensity most people don’t understand — and maybe I don’t fully understand either.

If I’m honest, I think I’ve been chasing significance more than success. Trying to prove that what I build matters. That I matter. That I’m the kind of man who doesn’t walk away when things get hard, no matter how long it takes.

But lately I find myself wondering…
Can grace win over the cynicism I’ve picked up along the way?
Can purpose rise again from all the pain and loss?
Can light reframe what I’ve lost — and maybe even redeem it?

I don’t have those answers yet. But I know I’m still here, still building, still hoping. And maybe that’s where the next chapter starts.

Eighteen with 49 Years of Experience: Its been a Wild Ride

John Hargrove January 2025

Eighteen with 49 Years of Experience: Its been a Wild Ride

I have never felt completely sure of myself. But that never stopped me from trying things anyway. Life has been a mix of near-disasters, small victories, and the occasional moment of brilliance—sometimes all in the same day..

Looking back, I’ve built things, broken things (intentionally and otherwise), raised a family, started companies, rejoined companies, and somehow managed to survive a quarter horse with a mean streak. I’ve designed nuclear security systems, climbed radio towers, and watched Star Trek recover from its worst movie (looking at you, 1979). Through it all, I’ve realized that work was never just work—it was always fun. And somehow, I’m still here, still learning, still trying.

Along the way, I’ve designed electrical control systems for substations and regional grids, implemented one of the first utility fiber control systems (1982), and developed leading-edge cybersecurity systems for power plants and grid transmission.

All that said, I still feel like an 18-year-old with 49 years of experience.

The Best Times of My Life

(In Chronological Order, Because That’s How Time Works)

The Early Years: Learning, Surviving, Horses That Bite, and Learning Things the Hard Way

Age 11

Age 12 – Survived the mile swim. Earned a merit badge for not drowning.

• Age 13 – Earned Eagle Scout rank, proving I could navigate the woods, tie knots, and not set the camp on fire.

• Age 14 – Discovered Newton’s Laws the hard way by losing control of my quarter horse while riding bareback. As I rotated around to her neck, she decided to bite me while at full gallop—which seems like an unfair move in hindsight.

• Learned drafting from my grandfather, setting the stage for a lifelong appreciation of good engineering (and good erasers).

• Spent summers on the Neches River at my dad’s camp, developing a deep love for nature and mosquito repellant.

Graduated Buna ISD

The Family Years: Running From Kids, Finding Purpose, and Speaking in Public

• Pretended to run from my 3-year-old son, because making toddlers think they are faster than you is part of the Dad Code.

• Thirty-nine years later, repeated this with my grand-nephews and niece (ages 4 and up). Kids never get tired. I do.

• Got my BSEE from Lamar University (1981)—a degree that would later justify many of my wildest projects.

• Became a telecommunications engineer because my boss discovered I knew Morse code.

• Married Leisa, a moment of sheer brilliance on my part.

We had a Son – Joshua Blake Hargrove – a gift from God. 1984-2002

• Age 42 – Had the life-changing realization that Jesus loves me, this I know. That moment when you TRULY know it, and realize you were ignorant before. This alone saved me from what was to come in less than two years.

• 1994 – My wife twisted my arm into attending Toastmasters to learn public speaking. I physically got sick before my first talk. Turns out, you don’t actually die from it.

The Career Years: Work Was Never Just Work

• Started an internet company—because apparently, I like a challenge. During a pandemic…

• 1993-1995 Redesigned and oversaw a replacement and rebuild of a transcontinental microwave system from Houston to NYC, proving that yes, sometimes the right people DO get put in charge.

• 2010-2019 Designed cybersecurity systems for power plants and the grid—because keeping the lights on is kind of important.

• Put in one of the first utility fiber control systems in 1982, back when fiber optics were considered risky and cutting-edge.

• 2002 onward – Led Bible studies, where I saw the Word come alive in me and others.

The “Geezer Paradox” Years: Dancing, Trek, and Perspective

• Age 64 – Learned that I can dance like no one is watching and, more importantly, not care if anyone is. Look up the “Geezer Paradox”—it’s real.

• The Worst Times of My Life (Because Life Isn’t Always Fun and Star Trek)

• 2002 – The death of our son, Joshua. Until then, I did not know pain. Afterward, grief became a constant companion—one that never leaves, but you learn to live with.

• 1983 – The passing of my maternal grandfather at age 26. The first close relative I lost. I didn’t know how to process it.

• 2013 – The passing of my father at 85. He had a full life, but I wasn’t ready to let him go.

Final Thoughts: What I’ve Learned

No one ever feels truly complete. I’ve done a lot—some impressive, some just weird—but in the end, I’m just a guy who tried his best and constantly fell short in his own eyes. I’ve been a legal adult since 1976, but some days I still feel like a kid. Some days I act like one.

Sometimes I’m proud of what I do, sometimes I’m not.

But whether good or not-so-good, I rinse and repeat. Adjust. Keep going.

Looking back, I’ve been privileged to lead in both professional and personal areas. And yet, I still feel like I have so much left to do.

Family is huge, they made me who I am.