MLK

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