Today is the day that we give thanks. Really what we do is eat too much and watch football and hang with family that we may or may not be really close with. But a little part of us also gives thanks.
Thankfulness is a pretty natural space for me these days. I have a life that I've worked hard for, but i've also been given gifts that I could never earn. My wife is one of the most phenomenal people I know. The perfect compliment to me in nearly every way. She loves and supports me and calls me higher as a husband, father and man. I have three healthy, beautiful, intelligent sons. I have a home and food and a job that I love. Gratitude is easy for me. Still, as I sat in the middle of a bunch of family today, watching you boys run around w/ your cousins Aubrey, Lila and Ellery, I felt on edge and lonely. Afton spent time connecting w/ Aunt Amber and Uncle Pat and Papa talked too. My brother and mom and grandma are in Tulsa together, my sister and her family are together too. I really miss my dad. It seems like 3 years out and I'm still grieving and more in the past week than in most of the previous year.
My family is interesting. All of us kids, we've led very different paths. We're very different people. And we've walked our paths on our own. Amber has always been close w/ my mom's mom and was pretty much raised by her in many ways. She works so hard to keep it together, but it's so hard for her to let people in. Miah was left to fend for himself and is still growing up, even at 29. He's struggled w/ shame and guilt that have led him to drugs to avoid the pain. I've had to figure out a great many things for myself, having to trust in the Lord most of the way. He's been super faithful to me and given me surrogates
So for about the past six months, i've been meaning to write to you. I've wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. I've wanted to tell you how grateful that I am for you. I guess today is as good a day as any. For the last 4 years, you have poured into me so much more than you know. You have been the mother and friend that I desperately needed. Even though she's still alive, my own mom just doesn't have the capacity to care for me in the ways I need. Wether you know it or not, I truly believe that the Lord smushed our lives together. There've been so many times that I doubted myself, doubted my gifts, doubted my career choice. So many times that I wanted to quit. Every time we talked, i left lifted. Our conversations at TBH and the Gypsy were the lifeboat that carried me through some unbelievably difficult times. You know me and my heart and you affirm me so well. You love my family and my kids just because. You're an incredibly skilled clinician of course, but what I learned the most was how much people need to be seen. You of all the people in the world know me best, second only to my wife, because you know, marriage. You saw things in me that i couldn't see yet. Calo is so absolutely the spot for me. I wouldn't have made it here without you. For the rest of my life, when I look back and think of the people who walked with me along my path, I will treasure our time together. Rebecca, I am so so grateful for you. I just wanted you to know. Love you.
-Josh
Monday, December 5, 2016
Grandfathered
So yesterday I got a text from a friend saying that a man named Merland Severson was celebrating probably his last birthday and his family was asking for letters and encouragements to read to him. This is what I sent to him.
Dear Merland-
In 2010, the Lord brought my wife Afton and I to Believers Church in Tulsa. I came to work as the Jr. High Pastor, and I came as an orphan. My parents were both still alive but I was an orphan no less. An orphan in my heart, very capable, but desperately seeking to find a home and someone to care for me. Believers Church represented that home for me, where I learned to settle into the Father's arms. You were part of that homecoming.
You see, I never really knew either of my grandfathers. My mom's dad died of cancer before I was born, and my dad's dad had a stroke when I was about 10. I remember him, but not well. This was a wound for me for a long time, especially as I grew into manhood and started a family. There was no patriarch in my family. My own father was frail and afflicted by depression and so I was thrust into that position. The strongest man in my family, but weakened by uncertainty. So I sought the Lord and threw my weakness at his feet. I decided to trust him, to depend on him, to need him for my strength. My wife gave birth to my first two sons, and I was so scared to try to raise them. I thought, how can I bring these babies into manhood when I still on that journey myself. Somewhere in that journey, I met you.
My ancestors migrated from Sweden, so I was I think naturally drawn to your Scandinavian stature. I'm a big guy myself, so I don't often feel hugged, but man, I enjoy a hug from you. Probably every time I saw you on a Sunday, we would find ourselves in a hearty embrace and you would say "Oh bless you, bless you, bless you".Your joy and presence bring me joy. I remember sitting in church one morning in some kind of crisis, wondering if I could manage to serve the Lord for the rest of my days, and lamenting that I had no idea what that really looked like. Tim played the song "I Need Thee Every Hour". Behind me I heard this booming voice, which was so sincere and honest and humble, crying out to the Lord. I looked back and saw you with your massive strong hands lifted to the Lord and tears in your eyes. I thought to myself "surely this man has lived so much life has got a great many things figured out and yet there was no pride in your voice". I felt the Lord telling me "this is what it looks like to serve Me all of your days" and I wept. You didn't know it, but your obedience and humility filled a hole in my heart that day.
Another great time was when you and Ann invited me to your house in Tulsa and we just sat and talked for a bit. You told me stories of working with Leonard Ravenhill and you prayed for me. I wanted to have that space of stories and prayer with my own grandfathers and even with my own father, but never did. You were the Lord's surrogate for me and brought me great joy.
My most precious memory though is when you honored me in standing with my family as we dedicated by oldest two boys to the Lord. Bear was 4 and Boss was less than a year old, and we finally got around to doing it. You were about to leave Tulsa, and my own father had passed away the previous year. I felt more fatherless than ever. I don't really remember what was said, but I remember your hand on my head. I felt in that moment as you prayed a blessing over my sons and over me something like when Jacob must have spoken blessing over Joseph's sons Ephraim and Manasseh. It was a moment so full of the Lord's presence that I just cried and cried. I felt like you passed something to me. I felt like the Lord was again reminding me of His faithfulness that Mark 10:29-30 describes. I knew that God will forever meet my needs as I lay them at His feet. I haven't seen you since that day, but if I could, I would wrap you up in a hearty hug and tell you how much I appreciate you.
So I will end with this and I hope you get to hear it:
Merland Severson, I bless you in the name of the Lord. I bless your years of faithfulness to the Lord and your humble obedience. As your heart turns toward your eternal home, I can hear the Spirit whispering the words that you will no doubt hear booming from the Father someday soon. "Well done! Well done good and faithful servant. You have run your race well and finished strong". May your family be filled with peace and may they carry the legacy and the mantle that you have borne so well for so long. I will miss you dear friend, but I know that we will see each other again and find ourselves in yet another hearty Scandinavian embrace. Please know, that each time I think of you, I am reminded of the Lord's goodness and faithfulness. If that's not a hell of a way to be remembered, I don't know what is. I love you.
Josh
Dear Merland-
In 2010, the Lord brought my wife Afton and I to Believers Church in Tulsa. I came to work as the Jr. High Pastor, and I came as an orphan. My parents were both still alive but I was an orphan no less. An orphan in my heart, very capable, but desperately seeking to find a home and someone to care for me. Believers Church represented that home for me, where I learned to settle into the Father's arms. You were part of that homecoming.
You see, I never really knew either of my grandfathers. My mom's dad died of cancer before I was born, and my dad's dad had a stroke when I was about 10. I remember him, but not well. This was a wound for me for a long time, especially as I grew into manhood and started a family. There was no patriarch in my family. My own father was frail and afflicted by depression and so I was thrust into that position. The strongest man in my family, but weakened by uncertainty. So I sought the Lord and threw my weakness at his feet. I decided to trust him, to depend on him, to need him for my strength. My wife gave birth to my first two sons, and I was so scared to try to raise them. I thought, how can I bring these babies into manhood when I still on that journey myself. Somewhere in that journey, I met you.
My ancestors migrated from Sweden, so I was I think naturally drawn to your Scandinavian stature. I'm a big guy myself, so I don't often feel hugged, but man, I enjoy a hug from you. Probably every time I saw you on a Sunday, we would find ourselves in a hearty embrace and you would say "Oh bless you, bless you, bless you".Your joy and presence bring me joy. I remember sitting in church one morning in some kind of crisis, wondering if I could manage to serve the Lord for the rest of my days, and lamenting that I had no idea what that really looked like. Tim played the song "I Need Thee Every Hour". Behind me I heard this booming voice, which was so sincere and honest and humble, crying out to the Lord. I looked back and saw you with your massive strong hands lifted to the Lord and tears in your eyes. I thought to myself "surely this man has lived so much life has got a great many things figured out and yet there was no pride in your voice". I felt the Lord telling me "this is what it looks like to serve Me all of your days" and I wept. You didn't know it, but your obedience and humility filled a hole in my heart that day.
Another great time was when you and Ann invited me to your house in Tulsa and we just sat and talked for a bit. You told me stories of working with Leonard Ravenhill and you prayed for me. I wanted to have that space of stories and prayer with my own grandfathers and even with my own father, but never did. You were the Lord's surrogate for me and brought me great joy.
My most precious memory though is when you honored me in standing with my family as we dedicated by oldest two boys to the Lord. Bear was 4 and Boss was less than a year old, and we finally got around to doing it. You were about to leave Tulsa, and my own father had passed away the previous year. I felt more fatherless than ever. I don't really remember what was said, but I remember your hand on my head. I felt in that moment as you prayed a blessing over my sons and over me something like when Jacob must have spoken blessing over Joseph's sons Ephraim and Manasseh. It was a moment so full of the Lord's presence that I just cried and cried. I felt like you passed something to me. I felt like the Lord was again reminding me of His faithfulness that Mark 10:29-30 describes. I knew that God will forever meet my needs as I lay them at His feet. I haven't seen you since that day, but if I could, I would wrap you up in a hearty hug and tell you how much I appreciate you.
So I will end with this and I hope you get to hear it:
Merland Severson, I bless you in the name of the Lord. I bless your years of faithfulness to the Lord and your humble obedience. As your heart turns toward your eternal home, I can hear the Spirit whispering the words that you will no doubt hear booming from the Father someday soon. "Well done! Well done good and faithful servant. You have run your race well and finished strong". May your family be filled with peace and may they carry the legacy and the mantle that you have borne so well for so long. I will miss you dear friend, but I know that we will see each other again and find ourselves in yet another hearty Scandinavian embrace. Please know, that each time I think of you, I am reminded of the Lord's goodness and faithfulness. If that's not a hell of a way to be remembered, I don't know what is. I love you.
Josh
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
The Lake
My Sons-
Well, a tremendous amount of life has happened since I last wrote to you. It's 2 days before Thanksgiving 2016. I'm sitting in my office at Calo in Lake Ozark, MO where I've worked for the past 6 months. Three years ago, I sat in a Career Counseling class and wrote down my dream job. I wrote about working in a beautiful setting doing residential treatment w/ a team that I could collaborate w/. I wrote about doing work w/ families. I wrote about having some pressure but not too much and doing long term, intensive work, not just the typical hour per week sort. 2.5 years ago, I found out about Calo after a colleague had interviewed here. I applied and was offered the job but turned it down because it wasn't enough money we thought. The dream was still there though. I left excited about the future as I drove back to Tulsa w/ almost 3 year old Bear and 1 month old Boss in the back. I went back to Tulsa w/ a knowing that I had to leave my job at Believers Church and focus on being home and being a husband and dad as much as possible. 8 months after that, Calo called me and offered me the job again, but then pulled the offer because I wasn't licensed yet. Another log on the fire, keeping the dream burning in my heart. The week after I received my official license to counsel professionally, I reached out to Calo. As I write this, I'm sitting in that dream.
Bear, this morning I dropped you off at Dogwood Elementary. We walked through the lunchroom so you could grab some cereal for breakfast. As you do most every morning, you grabbed the 1% milk, a spork and the cereal of the day. Apple Jacks today. But as you do every morning, you skipped the graham crackers and the fruit and grabbed the juice cup. You're reading better than anyone in your grade. You're super social. Today we had to wait for your amiga Alejandra so you could walk together. All sorts of kids call you by name when we walk in every morning. Earlier this year, you got an award and a medal from your teacher for being Proactive and doing what you know is right. You're so driven and your success is truly your own. You follow the rules and expectations like a roadmap to the Promised Land. You're teacher told us a few weeks ago that she thinks that you're "exceptional" and will be recommending you for the gifted program at the end of the year. I'm most proud of you when you are flexible though, because I know that it's hard to deviate from the plan in your head. You're A LOT like your mom in that way. We play Uno in the evenings after your brothers are in bed, and you're still sleeping in our bed. I love it when you snuggle your whole body into the curve of my back. I don't like it when you sprawl out and hog the covers. You're super sweet w/ Boone and sometimes struggle to include Boss. You and Boss are very different people. I pray that you grow to appreciate those differences and develop a deep and lasting friendship. If that's not the case on down the road when you read this, then get over yourself and make it happen.
Boss, you bring me such great joy. 2 1/2 year old Boss is like a force of nature. Watching you is like watching a grizzly in the wild fishing for salmon. You are wild and untamed and pure of heart. You talk so much more now than you did before we had your adenoids removed and tubes put in your ears. No ear infections anymore either. You sleep like a machine, 12 hours straight, every night. No muss, no fuss as long as you have your "binket". You still have a scar on your right cheek from Rocket the boxer pup who found a new home a few days after you got that scar. It was equal parts him biting you and you constantly picking him up by the face/leg/ear. Maybe one day we'll have a dog. You love to do "the hotdog dance" from Mickey Mouse Ahouse". You consistently ask for "sobydink" and "wogurt". I most love when I walk in the door from work and am greeted w/ a running, screaming "DADDY" and huge hug. I don't like the only 5 second window between when your mom cleans up toys and you get them out again. You love doing whatever Bear is doing, much to his annoyance and you're super sweet w/ Boone. I'm so excited to see what kind of boy-teen-man you become.
Boone Ransom, aka Boone the Spoon. Man, what a joy you are. You just turned 1 last month and your first few steps last week. You might be the most efficient baby communicator of the three. We never have a problem knowing what you want/need. It may also just be that your mom and I have really honed our parenting skills over the past 5 years. Sorry Bear, we probably made the most mistakes w/ you. Boone, you're always good for a smile, and you're the kind of cute that knows that you're cute, which is trouble. You crawl around the house w/ a spoon in your hand 75% of the time and you loooooove the boobie. Our special time together is when you let me feed you half of my oatmeal and yogurt in the mornings. I also really enjoy the look of panic in your eyes when I start walking towards your room w/ you at bedtime, because you definitely don't want or need to go to bed, even though you fall asleep within 30 seconds. I'm really excited to get to know you more and more and watch as you discover this wonderful world.
Your mom likes it here I think. She definitely misses the friends that she made in Tulsa and the church that we went to. But I feel so strongly that we made the right choice. So much of life in Tulsa revolves around doing. People find so much worth in what activity their kids do, what school they go to. It's just a lot of pressure. In Tulsa, I couldn't leave the house without running into someone I knew, but everyone was always so busy and spread out that you never could really do life together. Our hope in moving to the Lake is that we can slow down and enjoy each other. That I can do work that I love, that you can play in the yard and have adventures in the woods. That mom and I can have space to paint the canvas of your childhood with quality time and adventure. That you could have a life outside of tv and video games and sports and all the things that people try to fill themselves up with to try to feel full. I hope that we can connect w/ nature in a way that leads us closer to the Lord. I hope that we can kayak and hunt and fish and golf and do whatever we want but in a way that gives us life.
We bought a huge house with 3.5 acres so that you three can have room to grow into the mighty men you've been created to be. We hope that it is big enough. We hope that we are strong and patient and wise enough. I hope that I get to be here long enough. It's just a week and 3 years ago that my dad died at the age of 64. I cry almost every time I think about getting that old, because I want to be for you guys what my dad couldn't be for me. That's why I'm writing these things to you. I want you to have a glimpse of my headspace at this point. It will be 30 years before you can maybe understand, and I've realized that time is just one more thing that I can't control, so I write while I can.
I love you boys with my whole heart.
Dad
Well, a tremendous amount of life has happened since I last wrote to you. It's 2 days before Thanksgiving 2016. I'm sitting in my office at Calo in Lake Ozark, MO where I've worked for the past 6 months. Three years ago, I sat in a Career Counseling class and wrote down my dream job. I wrote about working in a beautiful setting doing residential treatment w/ a team that I could collaborate w/. I wrote about doing work w/ families. I wrote about having some pressure but not too much and doing long term, intensive work, not just the typical hour per week sort. 2.5 years ago, I found out about Calo after a colleague had interviewed here. I applied and was offered the job but turned it down because it wasn't enough money we thought. The dream was still there though. I left excited about the future as I drove back to Tulsa w/ almost 3 year old Bear and 1 month old Boss in the back. I went back to Tulsa w/ a knowing that I had to leave my job at Believers Church and focus on being home and being a husband and dad as much as possible. 8 months after that, Calo called me and offered me the job again, but then pulled the offer because I wasn't licensed yet. Another log on the fire, keeping the dream burning in my heart. The week after I received my official license to counsel professionally, I reached out to Calo. As I write this, I'm sitting in that dream.
Bear, this morning I dropped you off at Dogwood Elementary. We walked through the lunchroom so you could grab some cereal for breakfast. As you do most every morning, you grabbed the 1% milk, a spork and the cereal of the day. Apple Jacks today. But as you do every morning, you skipped the graham crackers and the fruit and grabbed the juice cup. You're reading better than anyone in your grade. You're super social. Today we had to wait for your amiga Alejandra so you could walk together. All sorts of kids call you by name when we walk in every morning. Earlier this year, you got an award and a medal from your teacher for being Proactive and doing what you know is right. You're so driven and your success is truly your own. You follow the rules and expectations like a roadmap to the Promised Land. You're teacher told us a few weeks ago that she thinks that you're "exceptional" and will be recommending you for the gifted program at the end of the year. I'm most proud of you when you are flexible though, because I know that it's hard to deviate from the plan in your head. You're A LOT like your mom in that way. We play Uno in the evenings after your brothers are in bed, and you're still sleeping in our bed. I love it when you snuggle your whole body into the curve of my back. I don't like it when you sprawl out and hog the covers. You're super sweet w/ Boone and sometimes struggle to include Boss. You and Boss are very different people. I pray that you grow to appreciate those differences and develop a deep and lasting friendship. If that's not the case on down the road when you read this, then get over yourself and make it happen.
Boss, you bring me such great joy. 2 1/2 year old Boss is like a force of nature. Watching you is like watching a grizzly in the wild fishing for salmon. You are wild and untamed and pure of heart. You talk so much more now than you did before we had your adenoids removed and tubes put in your ears. No ear infections anymore either. You sleep like a machine, 12 hours straight, every night. No muss, no fuss as long as you have your "binket". You still have a scar on your right cheek from Rocket the boxer pup who found a new home a few days after you got that scar. It was equal parts him biting you and you constantly picking him up by the face/leg/ear. Maybe one day we'll have a dog. You love to do "the hotdog dance" from Mickey Mouse Ahouse". You consistently ask for "sobydink" and "wogurt". I most love when I walk in the door from work and am greeted w/ a running, screaming "DADDY" and huge hug. I don't like the only 5 second window between when your mom cleans up toys and you get them out again. You love doing whatever Bear is doing, much to his annoyance and you're super sweet w/ Boone. I'm so excited to see what kind of boy-teen-man you become.
Boone Ransom, aka Boone the Spoon. Man, what a joy you are. You just turned 1 last month and your first few steps last week. You might be the most efficient baby communicator of the three. We never have a problem knowing what you want/need. It may also just be that your mom and I have really honed our parenting skills over the past 5 years. Sorry Bear, we probably made the most mistakes w/ you. Boone, you're always good for a smile, and you're the kind of cute that knows that you're cute, which is trouble. You crawl around the house w/ a spoon in your hand 75% of the time and you loooooove the boobie. Our special time together is when you let me feed you half of my oatmeal and yogurt in the mornings. I also really enjoy the look of panic in your eyes when I start walking towards your room w/ you at bedtime, because you definitely don't want or need to go to bed, even though you fall asleep within 30 seconds. I'm really excited to get to know you more and more and watch as you discover this wonderful world.
Your mom likes it here I think. She definitely misses the friends that she made in Tulsa and the church that we went to. But I feel so strongly that we made the right choice. So much of life in Tulsa revolves around doing. People find so much worth in what activity their kids do, what school they go to. It's just a lot of pressure. In Tulsa, I couldn't leave the house without running into someone I knew, but everyone was always so busy and spread out that you never could really do life together. Our hope in moving to the Lake is that we can slow down and enjoy each other. That I can do work that I love, that you can play in the yard and have adventures in the woods. That mom and I can have space to paint the canvas of your childhood with quality time and adventure. That you could have a life outside of tv and video games and sports and all the things that people try to fill themselves up with to try to feel full. I hope that we can connect w/ nature in a way that leads us closer to the Lord. I hope that we can kayak and hunt and fish and golf and do whatever we want but in a way that gives us life.
We bought a huge house with 3.5 acres so that you three can have room to grow into the mighty men you've been created to be. We hope that it is big enough. We hope that we are strong and patient and wise enough. I hope that I get to be here long enough. It's just a week and 3 years ago that my dad died at the age of 64. I cry almost every time I think about getting that old, because I want to be for you guys what my dad couldn't be for me. That's why I'm writing these things to you. I want you to have a glimpse of my headspace at this point. It will be 30 years before you can maybe understand, and I've realized that time is just one more thing that I can't control, so I write while I can.
I love you boys with my whole heart.
Dad
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
My Sons
My sons-
For the rest of my days, this is how I will call to you, my children. Three boys, three strong men. Men of courage, compassion and wisdom. Men who stand and fight for truth and justice, who love with their whole hearts and who fear God.
A friend of ours came up to your mom the other day and told her that she believed that God was giving us three sons because the world is in desperate need of godly men. This could not be more true. Every day, I work with the broken, the hurting, the hopeless. But none of us is born this way. We are born with endless potential. They say that ignorance is bliss, that it is better to not know what you don't know. The more you live life, the more you will know pain and suffering, because that is the truth of life. Life is tragically beautiful. We experience joy and sadness both. This will always be the case.
I was mowing the yard today and I happened to glimpse the neighbor a few houses down doing the same. I thought, how silly we must look, walking in a line, pushing this machine that cuts the grass that begins to grow back the second it is cut, then turning and walking another line. How silly to manicure and tame that which cannot be tamed. Continuously working to control that which will always seek to be wild. Then I thought, well isn't this what we do with cutting our hair and eating and sleeping? Isn't everything in our lives an exercise in futility, like hamsters on a wheel, or soccer moms on a treadmill? Isn't everything we do just an attempt to make ourselves more appealing to each other so that we don't have to be alone? We strive and scrape and claw to be enough, to be ok. This is an eternal hole, one that only Jesus can fill. Mental health and spirituality are my fields of work. Both are about seeking to find rest. I'm here to tell you boys. Jesus is our only rest. That's it.
I love you boys.
Dad
For the rest of my days, this is how I will call to you, my children. Three boys, three strong men. Men of courage, compassion and wisdom. Men who stand and fight for truth and justice, who love with their whole hearts and who fear God.
A friend of ours came up to your mom the other day and told her that she believed that God was giving us three sons because the world is in desperate need of godly men. This could not be more true. Every day, I work with the broken, the hurting, the hopeless. But none of us is born this way. We are born with endless potential. They say that ignorance is bliss, that it is better to not know what you don't know. The more you live life, the more you will know pain and suffering, because that is the truth of life. Life is tragically beautiful. We experience joy and sadness both. This will always be the case.
I was mowing the yard today and I happened to glimpse the neighbor a few houses down doing the same. I thought, how silly we must look, walking in a line, pushing this machine that cuts the grass that begins to grow back the second it is cut, then turning and walking another line. How silly to manicure and tame that which cannot be tamed. Continuously working to control that which will always seek to be wild. Then I thought, well isn't this what we do with cutting our hair and eating and sleeping? Isn't everything in our lives an exercise in futility, like hamsters on a wheel, or soccer moms on a treadmill? Isn't everything we do just an attempt to make ourselves more appealing to each other so that we don't have to be alone? We strive and scrape and claw to be enough, to be ok. This is an eternal hole, one that only Jesus can fill. Mental health and spirituality are my fields of work. Both are about seeking to find rest. I'm here to tell you boys. Jesus is our only rest. That's it.
I love you boys.
Dad
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