Hey boys-
It's January 19, 2015. Well this weekend was interesting. I picked up a stomach virus from a client and woke up three or four times Friday night just in a pretty bad spot, lots of vomiting, runs and such. I think I actually busted a blood vessel from puking so hard. Saturday, I was pretty much in a zombie state, and by Sunday, felt better but with some residual effects. Sunday night was when Bear got sick, waking up in the middle of the night vomiting all over everything. Apparently when you're 3 1/2, that stuff sneaks up on you. It was a long night during which your mom demonstrated her superior ninja mommy skills, remaining calm and collected while Bear was puking in one toilet, I was fixed on another and Boss was laying in the crib crying from being woken up.
Luckily, Monday was a day of rest. Though for some I don't think it was so restful. We just laid around the house watching TV and movies and trying to corral Bear's periodic yaking with a red rubbermaid bowl. About 4 p.m. Bear was quite expectedly passed out on the couch. We took you to bed, and maybe an hour later, you were having a night terror, which is way more common than I would like. Eventually, Bear and I ended up on the back porch sitting on the swing that hung at my childhood home. The swing I painted with my mom, the swing I held girls' hands on, the swing that was once fixed in mid air during a crazy violent wind storm. The same swing where I would take you when you were an infant and couldn't sleep. It was a half breath ago, but now you're legs hung down next to mine, your head no longer on my chest, but on my shoulder. I was struck by several thoughts. The ache of fatherhood being filled by that simple moment. The pace of time. The oncoming beautiful storm that will be your life. The bullshit injustice that a baby can't have peaceful sleep when there is plenty of nightmare to go around in the daytime. (It was in this moment that I had a breath to reflect and was inspired to write to you today)
Particularly on this day, a day of honor for a man with the courage to stand up against injustice. Its interesting to live 50 years removed from the Civil Rights movement of the 1960's and yet it feels like race issues and social inequality are so prevalent in media and in conversation, or so absent in conversation. Black men are so often in the news lately for being mistreated or killed by police officers, it seems like nothing has changed from then. I hope so deeply that you'll read this in 20 years and being astounded that these were the battles being waged in our world. But I also know that on this earth, until the Kingdom breaks forth, there will always be injustice, always pain, always evil and death seeking to blot out the joy and good and pure and life from this world. My prayer for you is that the scales of your hearts and souls will tilt heavy towards life. That, in the summarized words of Mr. Rogers (at least according to Google), that you would have eyes that find the good, that find the hope, that see the helpers and not the hurters. It can often feel pointless to stand up against the ever coming flood of darkness in this world, but when we stand rooted in the love of Christ, and we do all we can to stand, and then continue to stand firm, we remind the world to hope for more than just impending despair, we help keep the vigil during the dark night until the Redeemer comes. A lot of times doing community mental health work, it feels like society is set up so that some will always win and some will always lose. It's the daily story of the boy and the beach and the starfish. Sometimes we can barely make a difference, but a difference made cannot be unmade. My belief is that you have both been created to make a difference, and though at this point it seems that you're only purpose is to make me far too comfortable with bodily fluids and far more patient than I ever believed possible, I know that you're lives will count for something. The measure of that something depends on the eternal perspective and will of the Father, and also upon your willingness to submit to that something. Be diligent my sons, to carry the gifts and burdens that you have been given and carry them will all the courage and strength and patience that you can muster. You are my boys, but you are also the sons of God, if you are led by the Spirit (Romans 8:14-15) which you are wether you know it or not.
I love you with my whole heart and I cried at least 3 times writing this one.
Daddy
P.S. This was written while listening to an album called Loma Vista by Family of the Year, the two best tracks I think are Hero and Find it
Monday, January 19, 2015
Thursday, January 1, 2015
2014
They say that the New Year is a time to start over. A natural transition point that supports new life, new goals, a setting aside of the past. Really its just Thursday. One day off before working again tomorrow. And though I'm trying to let go of my some of my over sentimentality and excessive expectation these days. I do think its a good time to write and reflect some. 2014 was a tough one in a lot of ways. It was my first full year without my dad. I missed him a lot on certain days, and in unexpected ways. I lamented his loss while watching sports, pretty much any time I had to deal with my mom, and on moments where I wanted reassurance that things would turn out ok or when I wanted to celebrate some victory. I transitioned out of vocational ministry and along with that lost a chunk of community and prayer space and just a general time to reflect during the week. Working full time as a counselor has proven to be tough, just in terms of having the capacity to sit with people in their stuff and then come home and engage with family. It's also been tough learning to really really seriously trust God with finances and believing that he has my back, never leaving or forsaking me. I've had to learn to remove the burden of others' happiness from my shoulders, especially your mom's happiness, and just do the best that I can with what I've got. I went through several mini seasons of anxiety and depression this year, and had to rediscover my place in the world in some ways (still sorting through that one). I had to choose less in order to gain more, to choose simple to gain time with who matters. I had to let go of several clients that I cared deeply about, for a variety of stupid reasons. I had to take on an let go of the patriarch role in my family. I had to learn how to navigate fathering two very different boys. There was a moment where your mom and I had a fight, because she felt like I just didn't care about her or what she needed in the months before Boss was born. And to be brutally honest, I didn't. It's hard to muster compassion and consideration for others when all you really want is to crawl into a hole. After that conversation, I felt something lift. I was finally able to say out loud what I had been carrying. And I felt lighter. I shared my story of grief at a Holy Saturday service, I took some time to go out into the woods, hunting and backpacking, finding stillness and exhaustion.
Haley became a lifelong member of our family this year, she was just around at pretty much everything: in the delivery room with Boss, bringing Chipotle and snacks in the hospital room, at every holiday, and randomly at lunch in the middle of the week because she had no money. She broke my heart and tested my grace, but also continues to win me over with her insight and vulnerability. She and I are linked by our mutual loss, journeying into truer versions of ourselves each day. We went to Colorado in August, to get away after resigning from the church, and it continues to be a place of rest and peace for me. I went turkey hunting for the first time and fell in love with the stillness and anticipation. I acknowledged the true pain and joy of life and death on Christmas Day, visiting a ct and my mother, then coming home to soak up the goodness of a 3 year old opening gifts and sharing with others. I went and sat with my dad in a cemetery outside a dying town, with his best friend who he hid from out of shame, and of course, Bear peed on the side of a gas station. I found new focus for my career, and was given vision for the future in a way that both stirs anticipation and forces me to wait and trust on God rather than chase the "great white buffalo". I let my health diminish as I tried to cope with SO MUCH transition. I struggled to find discipline in little things like eating and sleeping, and exercise. I found freedom in allowing Afton to be responsible for her own happiness. I feel like I've been pruned a lot this year. Sitting here, I've realized how much I've neglected the Word, and prayer. I've neglected finding quiet space to spend with the Father. I bet this year would've been easier had I been quicker to draw near, but I also know that hard times test your devotion and faith, and cool the fires of devotion and discipline. That doesn't mean that love is dead, just that it has to wriggle its way free from the shit pile of circumstances to breath freely again.
The greatest part of 2014 was meeting and knowing you Boss. You are such a gift. You are simple, and strong. You sleep something like 14 hours a day, cry when you're hungry and fuss when you're tired. You love to laugh, and also intimidate grownups with your steely stare. I love walking into the room and watching you get excited to see me, and I hate leaving a room and hearing you cry because I didn't pick you up. I'm so anticipating watching you crawl and walk, and begin to talk this year; to begin to know you as a person and begin to discover the unique man that God crafted you to be. I am so convinced of God's purpose on your life. There is none like you in all the world, though you are like me in so many ways.
Bear, you have so capture my heart this year. You finally decided to start using the toilet full time, which is a big blessing. It provoked a bit of anxiety for me, waiting and giving you the space to do things in your own time. You are so your mother's child, with a plan and a timeline all your own. I was so proud of you the night that I asked if you wanted a pull up on and you said "nope", and that was the last time I ever asked. Anything you set your mind to do, you accomplish. You are strong in heart and will. Watching you as a 3 year old has been one of the great joys of my life. To watch you master the English language and inventing your own words like "lasterday" is so fun. You communicate your thoughts and feelings better than a lot of adults I know and I'm so excited to see you blossom as you begin PreK this Fall. You are a sponge, and you will accomplish mighty things this year. It's an honor to love you and to be loved by you.
For me, this new year brings anticipation. I am getting a sense as I write this that the questions of 2014 will begin to be answered in 2015. I believe that the debts we have will begin to be paid, that the loneliness will give way to robust friendship, that the grief will give way to full joy. Bear will turn 4, Boss 1, Afton 34, and me 32. I will move ever closer to finishing my license, taking my exams and accruing hours. I'll get my health under control, develop discipline in fitness and nutrition. I'm excited to see what God has in store. I'm setting a goal to walk 2 million steps and do 10 thousand pushups. That averages to about 3 miles per day and around 30 pushups per day. Seems like a little thing, but for where I am right now, its a good start. Sometimes all we can do in life is start new, and hope for the best.
I Love you both,
Dad.
Haley became a lifelong member of our family this year, she was just around at pretty much everything: in the delivery room with Boss, bringing Chipotle and snacks in the hospital room, at every holiday, and randomly at lunch in the middle of the week because she had no money. She broke my heart and tested my grace, but also continues to win me over with her insight and vulnerability. She and I are linked by our mutual loss, journeying into truer versions of ourselves each day. We went to Colorado in August, to get away after resigning from the church, and it continues to be a place of rest and peace for me. I went turkey hunting for the first time and fell in love with the stillness and anticipation. I acknowledged the true pain and joy of life and death on Christmas Day, visiting a ct and my mother, then coming home to soak up the goodness of a 3 year old opening gifts and sharing with others. I went and sat with my dad in a cemetery outside a dying town, with his best friend who he hid from out of shame, and of course, Bear peed on the side of a gas station. I found new focus for my career, and was given vision for the future in a way that both stirs anticipation and forces me to wait and trust on God rather than chase the "great white buffalo". I let my health diminish as I tried to cope with SO MUCH transition. I struggled to find discipline in little things like eating and sleeping, and exercise. I found freedom in allowing Afton to be responsible for her own happiness. I feel like I've been pruned a lot this year. Sitting here, I've realized how much I've neglected the Word, and prayer. I've neglected finding quiet space to spend with the Father. I bet this year would've been easier had I been quicker to draw near, but I also know that hard times test your devotion and faith, and cool the fires of devotion and discipline. That doesn't mean that love is dead, just that it has to wriggle its way free from the shit pile of circumstances to breath freely again.
The greatest part of 2014 was meeting and knowing you Boss. You are such a gift. You are simple, and strong. You sleep something like 14 hours a day, cry when you're hungry and fuss when you're tired. You love to laugh, and also intimidate grownups with your steely stare. I love walking into the room and watching you get excited to see me, and I hate leaving a room and hearing you cry because I didn't pick you up. I'm so anticipating watching you crawl and walk, and begin to talk this year; to begin to know you as a person and begin to discover the unique man that God crafted you to be. I am so convinced of God's purpose on your life. There is none like you in all the world, though you are like me in so many ways.
Bear, you have so capture my heart this year. You finally decided to start using the toilet full time, which is a big blessing. It provoked a bit of anxiety for me, waiting and giving you the space to do things in your own time. You are so your mother's child, with a plan and a timeline all your own. I was so proud of you the night that I asked if you wanted a pull up on and you said "nope", and that was the last time I ever asked. Anything you set your mind to do, you accomplish. You are strong in heart and will. Watching you as a 3 year old has been one of the great joys of my life. To watch you master the English language and inventing your own words like "lasterday" is so fun. You communicate your thoughts and feelings better than a lot of adults I know and I'm so excited to see you blossom as you begin PreK this Fall. You are a sponge, and you will accomplish mighty things this year. It's an honor to love you and to be loved by you.
For me, this new year brings anticipation. I am getting a sense as I write this that the questions of 2014 will begin to be answered in 2015. I believe that the debts we have will begin to be paid, that the loneliness will give way to robust friendship, that the grief will give way to full joy. Bear will turn 4, Boss 1, Afton 34, and me 32. I will move ever closer to finishing my license, taking my exams and accruing hours. I'll get my health under control, develop discipline in fitness and nutrition. I'm excited to see what God has in store. I'm setting a goal to walk 2 million steps and do 10 thousand pushups. That averages to about 3 miles per day and around 30 pushups per day. Seems like a little thing, but for where I am right now, its a good start. Sometimes all we can do in life is start new, and hope for the best.
I Love you both,
Dad.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)