3 Lessons I Hope To Teach My Son Before I Die

1. Always be TRUTHFUL to yourself and others.

2. Know your PRIORITIES in life and stick to them no matter what.

3. LOVE God, yourself, and others…just as God does.

Birth

Have you sat and thought about your life and came to the conclusion that you were made to do something entirely different than what you’re currently doing? Or have you ever had this ever-present feeling that you’re in some type of “human incubator or glass box” that you can’t quite break out of? Lately I’ve been experiencing both of those feelings, and I must admit it’s a very frustrating place to be! It sort of like having to go to the restroom really really bad only to have to wait outside of the door because it’s currently being occupied. Or maybe what I’ve seen/heard of mothers in the delivery room go through: “I know you’re ready to push but we have to wait on the doctor so just hold on until we tell you to push”. I can’t imagine carrying something in me for 9+ months and then finally get to the place where I’m to birth that which I’ve nurtured and patiently anticipated, but then I’m to hold on just a little longer until the “Doctor” arrives!

I can relate on some level because for 31 years I’ve carried and nurtured a dream; a dream that has brought me joy and pain, happiness and disappointment, fear and boldness, triumph and heartbreak, and now I’ve reached the “9th month” and I’m ready to birth this dream but I can’t quite yet. I’m ready to share this dream with the world as well as have my private moments in delight watching this dream grow and take on life itself, but my gratification has been deferred because I’ve been told that the “doctor” isn’t quite ready for me to “push”. Like the distraught and frustrated mother-to-be who lies on the table in agony, I sit…and wait.

I wait in excitement because I know, in my heart, that when this dream is shared with the world it will be a catalyst of energy that spurs people to greatness. I wait in fear because I don’t know if, once revealed, people may mock what I’ve labored over for years, treating it as a dismal failure in their eyes. I wait anxiously because I look at the clock and notice how time is not waiting on this hope to make it’s way into reality. So again I wait. How long? Who knows? But until then I’ll continue putting the final touches on this dream, and when the time comes…I will be ready!

14 Signs That You’ve Graduated To Ol’ School

1. You begin yawning during prime time television
2. You get ready to leave your house and can’t remember if you brushed your teeth
3. All of a sudden 60 Minutes has become your favorite TV show
4. You constantly find yourself using phrases such as “See, back in my day…”, “I remember when…”, “…those were the days.”
5. You get up at least once in the middle of the night to use the restroom
6. You start eating cereal with buzz words like “Oat, Bran, and Fiber”
7. When you get in the car you actually turn the volume down.
8. Ibuprofen/Tylenol/BC Powder are a must when traveling.
9. Sitting around to people watch becomes adventurous
10. You’ve become a “bargain shopper”
11. You just can’t understand “these kids today”.
12. You prefer to see movies during the daytime
13. All of your sports are now non-contact
14. You can’t remember what #1 was…

Feel free to add to the list.

“Are We Covered?”

Last week I went to visit my grandparents to check on them and make sure they were okay. As we sat there catching up on old news the conversation turned to the current hot topic at hand: health care reform. My grandmother began to go in detail about what she’d heard over the past few weeks via new channels, and I could tell she was a bit concerned. My suspicion was confirmed when she told me that her and my grandfather could possibly lose their Medicare coverage under the new plan and that, maybe, President Obama should just “leave it alone.” Then she looked at me and asked “Are we covered?” I was caught off guard. I wanted to belt out a “Yes, ost definitely!” but my mouth was paralyzed as I realized a very important truth: I had no clue!

Like many, I’ve watched and read from both sides of the issue but the fact remains that I still really don’t know the point of the health care reform bill and how it will affect different people, including my grandparents. So in my analytical way I decided to go and read the bill myself. What better than the original source. I Googled “health care bill” and a PDF document came up from the U.S. government website. Indeed, it was the document I wanted to see, but as it pulled up I noticed one minor detail about it; it was over 1,000 pages! I never read a book over a thousand pages let alone a bill. I was stumped as to how to better understand this health care reform bill.

I feel a certain obligation to understand this issue given how many people have been raising so much fuss over it. We have a US President that’s campaigning for this bill as if he’s campaigning for his job (hmmm…maybe he is). I did vote to elect him so shouldn’t I want to understand his plan? Usually I wait until it’s too late to have an opinion on such matters, but this time I want to engage in the issue, not merely be a spectator, or worse a Monday morning quarterback.

So as I sit here typing I’m still trying to find out a simpler way to answer my grandmother’s question…as well as mine. Maybe there’s a cliff notes version somewhere I can read…who knows??? Oh yeah, you can read the bill here: Health Care Reform Bill

Why Can’t I Start?

Have you ever had the infamous dream where someone is chasing you and you’re running in slow motion? Now, do you experience that same feeling in real life? I do. A lot lately, too. I can’t figure it out though. I know what I need to do and (usually) what it takes to get it done, but when it comes to actually doing it I begin to move in s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n. From projects to chores to hobbies I seem to be in some type of “funk” regardless the task. Lately, I’ve begin to wonder if I’m lazy…or burnt out…or over committed…maybe even depressed. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m afraid of the failure or success that could come about from the task at hand. Whatever the case I’ve found a couple a ways to stop “procrastinating” and get the job done:

1. I visualize myself completing the task
2. I reward… lol! I’m just joking.

Honestly, I don’t have a proven system to get stuff done (yet), so I just get up and do it! Wait! Maybe that’s it. I’ve actually come to realize that once I begin something I can continue it until it’s completed (or close to). One truth I’ve had to address in my life, though, is that if I don’t tackle this issue of procrastination on a small scale it’ll eventually turn into a monster that will kill my dreams! I have a ton of ideas that I want to see become a reality before I die, but if I can’t get off of my behind and start at least one of them then the odds are others will never come to pass. The last thing I want in life is to be an old man constantly wondering “what if” simply because I never stood up and did something. So in the words of one of my friends, “Ain’t nothing to it but to do it!”

Model Rockets

This year’s Fathers Day was slightly different for me than past years. I actually spent this Fathers Day more as a father than a son or grandson. Usually on the reserved Sunday in June I’m hauling the family from house to house appeasing and thanking those who’ve made a difference in my life or who I’m suppose to lead to believe they have. But this year I did any gift shopping early, dropped in the mail, and made phone calls as I spent the day with my own family. My wife confessed to me that this time of the year stresses her out because she never knows what to get me (Okay, I confess, I can be a bit picky), but I told her I really didn’t want anything this year. She insisted on getting something so our three year old son, Deuce aka Metric II, could give me something (he loves to give gifts and then tell you what it is while you’re opening it!) so I told her to grab me a couple of tee shirts. I also told her that I just wanted to spend time as a family, so we went to church and brunch and had my favorite…pancakes!

While driving home I thought of something, “I have a model rocket I can put together and take Deuce out to fly it.” So after a nap and a errand or two I sat at the kitchen table to assemble a favorite pastime of mine. I hadn’t put together a model rocket in over 20 years but I figured I had it down. The truth is it ended up taking me much longer than I anticipated; so long that the sun begin going down. But I was committed to fly this rocket for a few reasons: One, after I told Deuce about the rocket he reminded me every fifteen minutes about the “rocket ship that we were going to fly in”, and I wanted to keep my word to him. I want him to have the memories of doing stuff with his dad that I never had with mine. Secondly, I believe it was therapeutic and keeping me busy from the fact that I attempted to contact my father a couple of times that day to wish him a “Happy Fathers Day” and maybe stop by (he stays 15 minutes from me), but only got the voice mail and no returned phone call. I must admit that it hurts to continue trying to do my part in a relationship with no joint effort, but I’m trying to be the bigger man. So putting that rocket together for me was a legacy in the making; one that may continue when my son has a child of his own.

At about 9:20 PM I finished the rocket! I announced to my wife and son who then scurried to put on his shoes so we could go to the local park. It has a big field and I figured that if it was too dark I could keep the car headlights on to see. All three of us arrived at the park, jumped out the car, quickly paced to the middle of the field, and I begin to set up the launching pad for the rocket. After connecting the remote I told Deuce to come over so he could do the honors of pressing the launch button. I told him we’d countdown from 10 to 1 but soon realized that a three old usually can only count up to 10 so we did that. As we yelled out “Ten!” I showed him the launch button to push and when he did…nothing happened! I figured something wasn’t connected so I checked everything and was right. So I reconnected a fuse and we begin the process all over again. As Deuce pressed the launch button this time, nothing happened again! I was clueless, yet at the same time thinking that maybe I had bad batteries. After tinkering with it for I while I concluded that it was the launcher and would have to exchange it.

I regrettably told Deuce that we would have to launch the rocket the next day, but at that moment I saw something: Deuce wasn’t disappointed. Though he wanted to see the “rocket ship” go into space he was having enough fun being outside past bedtime and running around in a big field. As we returned home, put Deuce to bed, and sat on the couch my wife asked me if I was upset that the rocket didn’t work. In that moment I thought about my childhood, my strained relationship with my father, the unanswered phone calls, how Fathers Day is usually a drag for me, and the excitement of Deuce at the anticipation of us doing something together, and I told her that I wasn’t upset about it. I learned this Fathers Day that being a father is more about the journey than any destination…and about going to the store to exchange model rocket parts.

Always Consider The Source

I’ve been told some pretty amazing thing in my life; people seeing demons, tales of unimaginable human feats, and even “stories” about myself! Often I accepted the information at face value never second-guessing nor verifying it, but of lately I’ve really been on a quest to do my on “fact finding” missions when someone decides to include me in on the latest and greatest news.

It started when I begin reading this book about how to read the bible (imagine that!) and in this book the author begin to dispel many conventional thoughts of some commonly known bible stories. At first I challenged it thinking “These liberals just want to tear the Bible apart!”, but as I continued reading and confirming their conclusions I reached the point of an epiphany: “Maybe much of what I’ve been told all of my isn’t totally true…” This sent me in a tailspin; going through notes, revisiting previously read books, and conducting impromptu interviews to find out how this could be! The realization I came to was startling: much of what I’ve come to believe as truth came from people who ALSO believed it to be true. This wasn’t some sort of “Malcolm X in prison realizing that all black people had been bamboozled by the white man” type realization, but one of coming to grips with the fact that many good intentioned people in my life had neglected to factor in one important step in the process of revelation: to consider the source.

It scares me how often we believe so much of what is fed to us without taking the time to confirm it. Now, I don’t believe we should become neurotic conspiracy theory skeptics, but I do believe that we should at least use common sense (and a bit of logic) before we begin passing information along. Because I’m a parent now, this really forces me to grapple with this because God-forbid I have children going around naively believing everything they hear.

So the next time you read your favorite gossip column about “who’s out of the closet now”, your Inbox welcomes that “unbelievable” e-mail to receive a free computer if you forward the e-mail to ten people, or you hear that family member describing your father as a jerk who hates your existence, consider the source. In every matter of life there’s only ONE truth…the rest, well, makes for a good story.

little gods

On yesterday I listened to a guy talk about false gods. He mentioned that we all have them and they look different for all of us. I was really challenged to evaluate my own life as to which false gods I harbor, and I discovered one: happiness. Okay I really didn’t see it as happiness at first, I saw it more as a struggle to be content with life in such a way that I place that above God and my relationship with him. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting better or working to build upon the current but when it gets to a point that it supersedes my number one priority (God) then I have a problem.

I often pray to make my current situation(s) better (you know, career, marriage, finances, etc) but maybe God wants me to see Him in my current predicament and appreciate Him there than always waiting to see Him "move in a powerful way". Sometimes my prayer are more of an ritual prior to me doing what I choose regardless of any "answer" rather than a requirement before making a next move.

I want to be happy because that’s what society tells me I should be, even have a right to be, and if I’m not I should do WHATEVER IT TAKES to make myself happy. That’s a pretty scary thought but it’s where we are as a society. It’s also where we’re moving as a religion.

As I mature I’m learning to appreciate a life marked by simplicity. I’m also learning that though I’m an advocate of change and growth, it should never cause me to make it such a priority in my life that it becomes my god.

Suicide on Easter

On last week I attended the funeral of a guy that used to work near me. He was a middle-aged white guy (with the coolest Fu Manchu) who would occasionally come by the office for, what I assume now, was company. I didn’t talk to him much, but from what I heard around the office he was an interesting person, to say the least. He was single and had no children. He lived with his mom up until her death a couple of years ago. A couple of weeks ago I heard that he’d not been at work for a couple of days…and this guy never misses work! A guy I work with, who talked to him regularly, took the liberty of calling around to hospitals and the man’s home but to no avail. The next day he was informed that the police went to the guy’s home, kicked in the door, and found the his body decomposing. Police also found a bottle of pills, alcohol, and a gun. They concluded that he’d overdosed on pills and died by suicide on Easter.

Some of us from the office went to his funeral on last Friday. His family decided to do an grave side service, the first for me. They obviously were still in the midst of shock and grief from the suicide gauging from a comment his brother made; “As soon as we bury him we’re going to piss on his grave!” There was an overcast that day and it started to mist a little. People were asked to come up and say something they remember about the deceased. Many came up and told stories of humor and some of frustration, but one man came up and said something that “punched me in a gut.” He was the neighbor of the deceased and spoke of him contrary to many others. He talked about how the deceased had a good heart and how he would go out of his way to help others. Then the neighbor mentioned that he was a Christian and that, though, he knew the deceased he never really reached out to him. He stated that as a Christian he’d shown love to those in the church but rarely to his neighbors, especially one needing it the most. He, as many others there at the grave side (including myself), felt if he would have just showed this guy love maybe he’d still be around.

Whether that’s true or not I don’t know but what I do know is that I’ve done a crappy job of reaching out to others, especially those who are not like me. I have an unintentional habit of looking down on people who are not like me…you know, the ones who work at Wal-mart, the ones who don’t speak “proper English”, the ones who are classified as low income. The weird part is that I don’t try to. I usually try to talk to everyone and make them feel comfortable around me, but I’ve learned that the real me comes out when “I’m not trying”. My natural reaction and tendencies are revealed when I’m not comfortable. I hope that this changes about me (and I believe that it is), and though I don’t know WHY I’m like this I know it’s not right. More importantly it’s not Christ-like which is something I usually strive to be.

As I walked away from the grave side, staring at the casket of this guy I use to see often, I wonder if my own arrogance helped kill him. If my refusal to speak, smile, or even engage in conversation pushed this guy to his last resort…suicide. I don’t know that for sure, but what I do know is that I can start today making sure that I embrace and love people where they are, not where I think they should be. That’s real love!

Second Wind

If you’ve even been involved in any athletic event then you know the sheer excitement that the anticipation brings. You’ve stretched, warmed up, your adrenaline is pumping, your heart is racing, and you’re ready to go! The whistle blows, the gun goes off, the kickoff has taken place; the competition commences, the “game” has started…it’s action time. You’re doing fine matching up with your opponent running to and fro as the sweat beads up and trickles down your body. You’re moving, you’re panting, and the all of a sudden you feel “it”…the brick wall! You feel as if you’re running in mud, your lungs feel as if they’re going to explode as they try to pump oxygen. Your reflexes are not as sharp, and you don’t feel that you can finish. Your opponent (whether a person or the event itself) seems much bigger than before. You feel as if you’ve hit a brick wall and there’s no getting around (or over) it.

In the midst of your exhausted plight you begin to think “This is it.” or “I’m done.”, but at that point something peculiar happens. You begin to feel a slow rejuvenation in your body. All of a sudden you’re able to breath a bit easier, see clearer, your legs seem lighter, and you have a sense of clarity. You’re not sure of what just happened, but you are sure that you can finish. You experienced what many call a “second wind”. It’s been defined as “an ease of breathing after internal exhaustion” or “renewed energy or strength to continue an undertaking”. Technically it’s the body using less oxygen and more lactic acid to burn as fuel. Whatever the case, the end result is that, because of this “second wind”, you’re able to continue on in the pursuit.

Likewise, I’ve also come to realize that in life itself I’ve hit “brick walls” that I didn’t think I’d overcome. At the current time the wall looked SO MUCH BIGGER than it really was because I’d run out of energy to face it. And when I’d hit a place called “rock bottom” I was certain it was the end for me. As a matter of fact I was content with that reality and begin to live as if it was the end, but at that point something peculiar happens. All of a sudden I begin to look at the wall from a different perspective and it wasn’t so big after all. As I stood up I begin to breath a little easier. As I thought about my circumstances I begin to have more clarity. As I begin to run ahead I realized I’d regained my strength. I saw that there was hope beyond the wall. This wall that I once thought was a towering feat was nothing more than a speed bump for me to step over all because I got my “second wind”.