Christmas Eve 2013

Good morning sons-

Merry Christmas Eve 2013 to you. I write this to you from the bottom bedroom just next to the bathroom in your Papa’s cabin in Colorado. Hopefully this place will be the setting for many beautiful memories from your childhood both in the icy white of winter and the vibrant colors of summer.  I’ve been aching to get here for the longest time. I’ve yearned for the silence and the space and the grandeur of the mountains. There’s not much silence in the house as you and the Marsolek girls play ring around the rosy and such, but outside, it is so still, so empty and yet so full. In the still silence you are confronted with all the thoughts and emotions that fill you up to the point of overflow. Bear, you’re just 2 ½, but you’re such a manchild. How you understand social situations and the subtleties of communication, both verbal and nonverbal, its amazing. Boss, you’re still in your mommas belly for another 3 months and I’m so very excited to meet you. It’s such a wondrous thing to have kids and dream about what kind of person they might be. So far as we can tell right now, you’re a pretty chill guy, content to save most of your movement for a few good donkey kicks to various vital organs inside your mom. Not sure what that means yet, but I’m eager to find out.

This morning, as I was taking out the trash here at the cabin, I was struck by the quiet and noticed that in the east, the sun was just preparing to peak out over the ridge. I decided to grab a brisk moment of solitude and watch it rise fully into the sky. As I did, I started to think about the things I’ve been too busy to think about, like missing my dad, like the pit of loneliness I feel when I’ve been distant from the Father, like my inadequacy stuff that the enemy tries to lie to me about, but especially my dad. It’s been just over 5 weeks since my dad, your Papi Rus, went home to be with Jesus. I miss him so much. Not all the time, becaue I’m an adult and I have my own family and my own life, but in those moments that you still share with your dad even when you’re grown. I missed him when texted your Noni and Gigi to tell them we were headed into the mountains and would be out of cell range. I would typically always just text my dad that. I missed him yesterday when I was out scouting for Christmas trees and just riding around with your Papa Kevin in his new Jeep. We ran up on a pack of mule deer, 4 or 5 does and one buck, and they didn’t spook, so we got some pretty good pictures of them. On the way back, I stopped to take a shot of a beautiful view. I so wanted to send those pictures to my dad. To share with him the wild beauty and freedom that he hadn’t experienced in such a long time. You know that for the last 4 years of his life, he was pretty much homebound, restricted by his pride and his health to hide out from the world and all its beauty and splendor and heartache. I tried to share with him as much of my life as I could, and I think he enjoyed it as much as you can enjoy someone else’s joy. But maybe his joy was fuller, knowing that his son was filling up with life’s goodness. I think that’s the joy I just experienced watching Bear discover that he can see his own spit particles dance in the morning sun beams as they shine in through the window. Pure discovery, pure joy, pure wonder. The same wonder perhaps that I felt this morning as I watched the sun peak over the trees, but looking different than I’ve ever seen it. It looked to me not like the typical yellow ball of fire in the sky, but more like a clear diamond, shifting and moving like clear molten lava. A ring of pale crimson surrounded the diamond. Not bright red, but deeper and softer like the underside of a rose petal. And from the diamond sun, wisps of gold, more pure and delicate than anything I’ve ever seen, danced their way around, swirling like fall leaves in a breeze. Such beauty. And yet just a shadow. I’m reading the Chronicles of Narnia this week, and if I’m struck by anything, it is the deep mystery of the Lord and my limited understanding of all that the universe holds, and the seeming folly that I bring with me as the Lord invites me to discover him and his kingdom more and more.

I want you both to know something. This year has been incredibly difficult and incredibly good all at once. This spring, I spent a semester working 20 hours a week, taking 15 hours of grad school classes, interning at the Tulsa Boys Home 20 hours a week and attempting to be a husband and father. In the middle of that, I found out about the blood pressure stuff, then I graduated with my masters, walked with all my friends, convinced the announcer to tell everyone I had a smoking hot wife, drove to Stillwater twice a week that summer so that I could actually graduate and looked forward to my new career. We found out we had Boss on the way and then two months later, I landed my first job, and those two months before were a major shot to my self worth and manliness feelings as I tried to figure out how to take care of finances and imagine taking care of the whole family financially while you’re unemployed is a bit of a trip. I started work and then about a month later was my dad’s birthday. November 11 to be exact. In the last 4 years, I’ve always had a sense of knowing that my dad wasn’t going to be around forever, and towards the end, that sense got stronger and sometimes that led me to avoid being around him or talking to him. It was just really hard. But on that night that we went over to celebrate, I decided to just kneel down by his chair, and pour out my heart to him. I told him that I loved him, that he was a good man, that I was proud to be his son. I told him that I knew that life hadn’t turned out the way he wanted it to, but nonetheless, it had been good. I reminded him that you can tell a tree by its fruit, and the fruit of his life was exceptional. It was vulnerable, it was raw, it was honest. It was the last real conversation I had with my dad, and I’m so so grateful I did. The last thing he did say to me was something about how I looked funny without my beard (I grew it out for 5 months and then shaved it that week). My last words to him were something about not giving the nurses too hard a time. That was how our relationship was. I poured out my heart to him. He received it. I hoped he would reciprocate. He usually didn’t. We would banter or talk about football or something like that. The moments that are the hardest are the moments when I’m watching football and something crazy happens, or thinking of sending him a picture or when there’s a storm on the way and he would typically send me a warning because those were his moments. He chose those moments to reach out and connect with me. They weren’t deeply emotional or sentimental, but they were the moments where he felt safe and able to connect, and I’d give anything to get a text from him right now. 

Sorry just needed to grieve there for a second. So back to the point… All of this has happened in the last 12 months, and not once have I thought “ I have a good life because good things are happening” or “Life is bad because hard things are happening”. Life is life. Good and bad happen together all the time. Life is joy and sorrow side by side. That we have a single moment of joy is a gift. That we have breath in our lungs is a treasure. That we have love in our hearts for each other and moments to share like today, Christmas Eve 2013 is a kiss from Heaven. We live in a sinful, fallen world, separated from our Father and our true home. We need a savior, a messiah to rescue and reconcile us. This I am realizing in a deeper, truer, more honest way this year. And I am so thankful for Jesus. So thankful that he loved us enough to lower himself and come to us and take on our sinful humanity. So thankful that he knows what it means to suffer and was not afraid to enter into suffering on my behalf. I’m so thankful that in the moments of my deepest sorrow he is not far off, not aloof, but he is near to me. He was with me as I sat beside my father and read scriptures to him about the hope of resurrection. He was with me as I sat by my mom and told his that he was dying and didn’t have much time left. He was there by my side as I knelt and prayed at his side and in the moment that he left this earth, I faced the true despair of death and loneliness, and I was not consumed. My grief poured out like water; I felt completely helpless and weak and he was my strength. He was my sustainer and the lifter of my head. I’m not saying it wasn’t awful, I’m not saying that I didn’t have a massive headache from crying my eyes out. I’m not even saying that I don’t have a headache right now from crying as I type. What I am saying is that we do not have to fear death, or loneliness, or failure, or weakness. War has already been waged against these foes, and they stand defeated. We can enter the hard stuff and not be overcome. So what have we to fear? What can stand between us and our participation in God’s kingdom being established here and now? I can’t really think of anything, and I’m pretty smart. So there. Love you boys.

Dad.

the twenties

Son-

Tomorrow I turn 30 yrs. old. Today I wished a happy birthday to a friend who was born the day before me. We're birthday buddies and have been for 18 years. It's funny, because when I was 12 and 16 and 21 and even 25, 30 seemed so odd and far off. For a lot of people, turning 30 seems to be a scary thing. Its some kind of deadline for having your shit together. Unfortunately, for most people, that day comes and goes and people feel inadequate in their achievement or relationships or some other measure of success.

As I reflect on my twenties, I think of the magnificent journey of the last ten years. Ten years ago, i switched my major to Pastoral Care, opening the door for vocational ministry. I was in the thick of volunteering at Guts. Single, overweight, desperate for real friendship and belonging. I felt alone, and I chased after girls in real life and in chat rooms, hoping to be significant to someone else. I had no idea the journey God had me on. The sights I would see, the friendships I would develop, the love I would feel for you and your mom and your baby sibling ( your mom is 9 weeks pregnant with your little bro/sis, we're not sure yet), seemed like a dream. I wouldn't figure to have just finished a Master's degree and be waiting to hear back from an agency about my first counseling job. I definitely wouldn't think I'd have high blood pressure, taking medication and having to drop another 60 lbs, having already lost 40.

In my twenties I've been to Australia, Switzerland, the Caribbean, all over the US. I've lived in Brooklyn and bought a house in Tulsa. I've kissed 5 different girls, and one woman who I'll kiss for the rest of my life. I've coached young boys and called them to become men. I've taught, served and caddied. I've built and destroyed, I've fathered a son I couldn't be more proud of, graduated twice and successfully separated from my parents as an adult. As I've become a man, Father has taught me what it means to be a son. I've come to know the beauty of humility, the hypocrisy of pride, the difficulty and necessity of surrender. I've sat with countless men and boys, sharing my heart with them and hearing theirs. I've found my life's work. They say that when you know who you are, you have become a man. I feel like I've got a good sense of who I am and what I'll do with the next 30 yrs, but I know that the journey has just begun. There's a poem that I found in my twenties that gave me vision for what I am becoming. I hope to see it blossom in my thirties.

As I reach this point in my life, your life is just beginning. You are beginning to have the experiences that will stick in your mind as memories of your life. Your personality is becoming so evident. Your joy, your willfulness, your ability to connect with others and lead them with your tender masculinity. They make me laugh with glee. Every night I sing you to sleep. Your requests are consistent. "The Dance" by Garth Brooks, "Amazing Grace", "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan, which you sing with me and crack me up. Then always "Twinkle Twinkly Little Star" and "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". Singing and rocking with you brings me more satisfaction than 20 year old me could have fathomed. As I enter my 30s, I hope to teach you manhood as I live it out more fully every day. Be inspired by the words of Rudyard Kipling's poem "If":

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

 

I love you with my whole heart son, and I love being your dad. 

Dad

tough guys

Son-
Tonight, on the way home from Ma Dubs, we sat at a stop light and I saw across the street, about one hundred yards away, a couple having an argument. The woman seemed to be trying to walk away, but the man continued to get in front of her, holding her captive, bumping her and harassing her. Disgust rose up in my heart, and I couldn't help but act. When the light turned green, I cut across three lanes and I'm sure ticked off a few people, drove over near the couple and rolled down the window. I hollered out the window to ask if the woman was ok, the man, as all abusers do, answered for her. What a tough guy! He then proceeded to threaten the woman I'm sure and they began to walk back from whence they came. I asked if she would like me to call the police and he again, answered me belligerently. I wanted with my whole being to get out of the car, to grab him by the throat, pin him to the ground and show him what a tough guy is. 

America right now is lost. Families are weak, mostly because men are weak. Boys have no idea how to become men, so they follow the brokenness that has been shown to them. This is mostly because no viable alternatives are visible. Boys think that manhood lies in power, either physical, emotional, financial etc. If a boy can attack and destroy and oppress, then he is man. So broken boys oppress women, children, the poor, the immigrant, the people on the fringe. They attack people of different political parties, different ethnicities, different sexuality, different sports teams. They destroy their marriages and the dreams of their children, because to nurture and serve feels like weakness. Never having felt the Father's true love, they are too afraid of the vulnerability required to love and be loved. So they destroy. This is not the way of men. The Father is the Creator, destroying only to build again, build stronger, build higher.

In a lot of ways, America is a country built by men, but not in the way that you might think. Throughout history, many wealthy, talented and extremely powerful men have paid for and sponsored many grand things, but rarely have they built on their own. Railroads that crossed the country and carried "civilization" West were built by immigrants and the poor. The Southern plantations were built by slaves. Big business on Wall Street built on the pocketbooks of the everyday person, struggling to get by while the "men" at the top line their pockets. This is not the Kingdom. This is not your heritage. Let this not be your legacy on the earth. 

Deut 10:17-19 
For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. ¹⁸ He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. ¹⁹ And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.

Psalm 10:16-18
¹⁶ The Lord is King for ever and ever;
    the nations will perish from his land.
¹⁷ You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted;
    you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
¹⁸ defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
    so that mere earthly mortals
    will never again strike terror.

Ps 82:3-4
³ Defend the weak and the fatherless;
    uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.
⁴ Rescue the weak and the needy;
    deliver them from the hand of the wicked.

Proverbs 31:8-9
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves,
    for the rights of all who are destitute.
⁹ Speak up and judge fairly;
    defend the rights of the poor and needy.

A man is one so secure in the Father's love, so convinced that his every need is considered and provided for, that he is able to look beyond himself. Right now you are selfish. Sweet, but selfish. Your every whim is the center of your universe and in your eyes ought to be the center of everyone else's as well. And that's ok, because you are two. And that will still be ok as you grow and mature. But at some point, you will move from boyhood to manhood. You will be accepted into the company of men. Hopefully into the company of Christian men. And you will learn that a strong man is one who can prefer others, who can serve others. He is not one who sits idly by while others suffer, he acts. A man is one who comforts the weary and broken. He fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. He dies to himself so that others might live. He does this because he is not afraid of being forgotten or forsaken. He can look beyond the present and defer his own gratification for the well being of others. 

I want you to know that the worm chest bumping a lady because he feels embarrassed or scared or sad but can only express it as anger is no tough guy. I had to defer my want to be the protector of some poor, oppressed woman tonight because I will always pick my family over others.But I will always remember this afternoon as a picture of my role as a man. I don't know that I did any good. Maybe I actually did more harm. But if for one second, this random, scared, abused woman saw that she is worth respect and care. That she doesn't have to be treated like collateral damage for some boy's insecurity and brokenness, then I'm ok with it. 

Christ showed the fiercest strength of all time when he said to his Father "if there's any other way....nevertheless, not my will but yours be done". My hope for you son is that you will stand, that you will serve, that you will defer, that you will speak up, that you will rescue, and encourage and listen. That you will know when to speak and when to be silent. That you will rise up when you ought and bend your knee when you must. I hope that you will defend the fatherless and the oppressed, not for any gain, but because you are so convinced that you are loved. I hope this because when we know that we are loved, we can truly walk as God's sons. Because " the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God (Rom 8:19). 

The world needs tough guys, tough guys like you. 

You are eternally and extravagantly loved my son. Walk in the strength of that love today and always. 

Dad

I see you with my eyes....

Son-

I'm laying here in bed at midnight on a Friday night, thinking about you and how weird it is that you haven't woken up once since you went to sleep tonight. This is odd. I also had this thought that I want to make sure you know. You are the great joy of my life. I find so much delight in you. The garbled but coherent vocabulary you employ grows seemingly every second. The other day at the Zoo, you apparently said, per Ma Dub, "I see you with my eyes...Pen..guin" in a very menacing tone. The other day we were on a walk, and with you strapped to my back, I asked "Bear are you ok?" "da, i'm otay" "Bear, are you tired?" "No, doggy's tired, daddy's tired, I'm not tired". These are just a couple of the many wondrous two year old things you say, and I love it. I love it when you say thank you unprompted, I love it when you take a sip of juice and proclaim it to be "awetum!"or when you show off your "munaa" and flex your little arms. And I can't say enough how great it is to walk in the door and hear "oh hey diddy, diddy, sit DOWN!" while you slap a chair.

So I just wanted to say thanks for being great and thanks for being my son. You've saved my life, quite literally. Since I was forced three months ago to face the thought of not being around for you for the next 60 years, I've lost 33 pounds and gotten my blood pressure under control for the most part, though I'm still having to adjust medication. Apparently, high blood pressure is a thing for Nordean men, keep your eyes on that stuff, even now, I'm only 29. My goal is to be under 300 for maybe the first time in my 20's before I turn 30 in two months. Just 15 lbs to do that.

Back to the subject of you. It breaks my heart that we have someone else take care of you on a day to day basis, I wish that it was you and your mom at home doing fun stuff, but we're doing the best that we know how to do, and the Willards are pretty much family now anyways. I know that you're getting the best possible care with the most possible love besides being with me and your mom. I hope everything works out and you don't resent us forever. Time will tell I suppose. Oh, one last thing, will you hurry up and learn how to use a toilet already! Diapers are expensive and you pee on the floor when we let you run around neked. Figure it out!

Love you son, with my whole heart, that gets stronger every day

Diddy

Laugh

Bear-

Hey son, it seems like its been a really really long time since I sat down to write to you. A lot has been going on around here lately. I'm halfway through the Hellmester (semester from Hell). I've been working at Tulsa Boys Home 20 hrs a week, working at the church 25 hrs a week, and taking 15 graduate hours of class, not to mention reading, writing papers and trying to love your momma and take care of 21 month old you. This was a particularly rough week. Your mom is going through a stressful, tough time at work, feeling forgotten and unvalued which combined with our yard being torn up from the city replacing sewer lines, leaving the dog inside all day to make messes, and not getting any time to herself is a bad life plan. So yesterday, I you and I went out to Nani and Papi's house to take the dog to stay with them for a couple of months until things slow down around here.

That was tough for me, because its my job to take care of the dog, and I haven't been able to do it well, which messes with my inadequacy wounds and all my control issues. SO yesterday was tough, the past couple of months have been tough, and I haven't had a chance to spend time with you, which I don't like. So that's the backdrop for this story...

So at about 7:30p, I picked you up to put you to bed for the night. I was wearing a hoodie with long strings and you didn't really seem very sleepy. I've been singing you a song lately, just to help you calm down before we say prayers. I was singing you one of my favorites, 'Your Song' by Garth Brooks. I had just finished the first verse and the chorus when you grabbed one of the strings from my hoodie and stuck it in my mouth. We had been playing that game earlier, and so I spit it out and made a funny face as is the custom. You proceeded to laugh your marvelous laugh, which is part sunshine, part unicorn sparkle (coincidentally your cry is part thunder, part banshee cry, part wherewolf howl), and I started to laugh too. When I laughed you laughed more and when you laughed I laughed more. It built to a joyful crescendo leaving my beard soaked with happy tears. For about 5 minutes we just laughed and laughed. I needed that 5 minutes so much. It seemed to be a Holy Spirit joy of the Lord kind of moment  that cut through the cloud of 'meh' and set things right in my heart. I just thought you should know.

Bear John Carroll bringing smiles since 5-26-11.

Love you son,

Dad