Introduction
In recent weeks, I’ve found myself at the center of an online tempest. Accusations, judgments, and a swift “cancellation” by the digital court of public opinion have been hurled my way. What’s truly disheartening is the complete lack of journalistic integrity; not a single news outlet has reached out to verify claims or ask for my side of the story. Instead, unchecked rumors and hearsay are amplified, leading to an onslaught of negativity across social media platforms. My inboxes and feeds are flooded with thousands of hateful comments, and as a result, events and writing opportunities I had scheduled have been abruptly withdrawn. It seems I, too, have been “canceled.” People are quickly distancing themselves, wary of being caught in the crossfire of unverified allegations.
Yet, despite this digital onslaught, I feel anything but canceled. In fact, I feel the opposite. Here on our farm, life has continued with a quiet, grounding rhythm, much like the early days of the pandemic when the world outside seemed chaotic but our local community remained a sanctuary. Rebecca and I have been joyfully settling into our new life as a married couple and family. She’s been transforming our farmhouse into a home, filling it with the comforting aromas of sourdough, canned tomatoes, and pickled okra.
Meanwhile, I’ve been immersing myself in new songs and even set up a pickleball court in our concert hall! We’ve been enjoying evenings filled with laughter and friendly competition with family and friends during the downtime between concerts. Indy is thriving with homeschooling, enthusiastically calling Rebecca “Mama” for weeks now. She’s also discovered a passion for weaving, started piano lessons, and is loving her “joggery” (geography) class with other homeschoolers. As autumn’s chill graces middle Tennessee, we’re savoring meals on the back porch and taking long, reflective walks as the sun dips below the horizon.
If this is what being “canceled” feels like, it’s certainly not as bad as I imagined. Perhaps it’s because my concern for my online reputation pales in comparison to my focus on my actual character. I remain largely unbothered, knowing that the accusations leveled against me are simply untrue.
The truth is, my family is far from perfect—much like any other, I imagine. Our struggles aren’t new; we’ve always been a work in progress and likely always will be. There are unresolved issues between my older daughters and me, and we’re currently at an impasse. A week and a half ago, I drove to Florence, AL, with two bouquets of peace lilies, hoping to sit down, talk, or simply listen and offer a hug. Despite their cars being there, no one answered. I left the flowers and headed home, soon receiving a text stating, “we are only willing to talk with you with a licensed therapist or attorney or both.”
This is where our paths diverge. They believe professional intervention is the solution to our family’s brokenness, while I believe it’s our shared responsibility as adults to set aside our differences, understand more than be understood, and forgive more than be forgiven, as St. Francis of Assisi wisely taught.
Until that understanding is reached, it seems the accusations and attempts to dismantle my reputation will continue. My plan, however, remains steadfast: to continue loving them, praying for them, and trusting in the larger plan unfolding. I have no doubt that even this will be used for a greater good.
In the meantime, please know that Indiana is doing incredibly well. She is loved, safe, and surrounded by people who adore her. I would never, ever allow her to be in an unsafe situation. To all the family, friends, and supporters who have offered encouragement these past few weeks – from our neighbors who know us best, to the kind stranger at Home Depot who said, “All that stuff they’re saying is silly. You just keep doing what you’re doing” – thank you.
These past few weeks have been incredibly enlightening. They’ve revealed the fickle nature of public opinion and how easily it can be swayed. The distance between love and hate is surprisingly short. Secondly, true cancellation only occurs if you grant others that power. With a clear conscience, sometimes all you need to do is put down your phone and keep living your life. Like your fleeting moment of fame, a moment of infamy will also pass.
Finally, and most importantly, contrary to what some may claim, the person truly being hurt by all of this is our precious little one. I am a grown man; you can drag my name through the mud all you want. But Indiana is an innocent ten-year-old girl who doesn’t deserve any of this. One day, when she’s older, the untrue words her big sisters and others have spread online will still be out there, and they will hurt her. People will look at her differently—not just because of her almond eyes, but because she’s been unfairly used as a pawn in a sad game. So, if the mudslinging must continue, I implore you: please keep Indiana’s name and picture out of it.