You ever meet someone and just think, "I would love to hang out with him a lot more." This was exactly how I felt after meeting this person. My cousin introduced us and after about 10 minutes, we got into a discussion about the worst cuss word you can say. The opinions were varied and discussion was enlightening and engaging.
Now, after this video, I want to become his best friend...
Click here
26 October 2009
20 October 2009
10 Things I love more than I should
Here are 10 things that I love more than I should...
1. Radiohead
2. Krispy Kreme Donuts
3. Arsenal
4. Adidas Sambas
5. Top Gear
6. The number 3
7. Golf
8. Guinness
9. my car (2006 MINI Cooper S)
10. 30 Rock
All of these things produce a physical reaction of giddy pleasure more than should be allowed. Typically there is giggling and maybe even the clapping of hands. I am a 36 year old man who still greets his car with a, "Good morning."
Now don't get me wrong. I still love my wife and kids more than any of these things, and Jesus still is at the top of my list. However, I get weak in the knees when I watch 30 Rock and Top Gear.
I have shed tears when Arsenal wins because of the abundance of joy I feel. It is like God is causing His face to shine upon me.
I have played golf in sleet and snow and even now I am a bit nervous to look to the left of my chair because I will see my golf clubs and it makes me sad that I can't afford to play right now.
I refuse to see Radiohead live because I don't want to risk not liking them as much as I do. I usually emit an audible sigh when they come up on my iPod.
If I kiss my wife more than once, it has to be 3 times. She knows this and still has sex with me.
I have owned a pair of Adidas Sambas since the early 1990's. I love them and even when I get a new pair I have trouble throwing out the old ones. I right now have 2 pairs of the exact same shoe.
I don't think I have to apologize for the donuts or Guinness. In 1903, Harry Vardon had tuberculosis during the British Open. He almost collapsed between rounds and was coughing up blood, but sipped on a pint of Guinness for strength and then went out later that day and won. Guinness is wonderful.
What's wrong with me?
Anyone else want to admit to something they love more than they should?
1. Radiohead
2. Krispy Kreme Donuts
3. Arsenal
4. Adidas Sambas
5. Top Gear
6. The number 3
7. Golf
8. Guinness
9. my car (2006 MINI Cooper S)
10. 30 Rock
All of these things produce a physical reaction of giddy pleasure more than should be allowed. Typically there is giggling and maybe even the clapping of hands. I am a 36 year old man who still greets his car with a, "Good morning."
Now don't get me wrong. I still love my wife and kids more than any of these things, and Jesus still is at the top of my list. However, I get weak in the knees when I watch 30 Rock and Top Gear.
I have shed tears when Arsenal wins because of the abundance of joy I feel. It is like God is causing His face to shine upon me.
I have played golf in sleet and snow and even now I am a bit nervous to look to the left of my chair because I will see my golf clubs and it makes me sad that I can't afford to play right now.
I refuse to see Radiohead live because I don't want to risk not liking them as much as I do. I usually emit an audible sigh when they come up on my iPod.
If I kiss my wife more than once, it has to be 3 times. She knows this and still has sex with me.
I have owned a pair of Adidas Sambas since the early 1990's. I love them and even when I get a new pair I have trouble throwing out the old ones. I right now have 2 pairs of the exact same shoe.
I don't think I have to apologize for the donuts or Guinness. In 1903, Harry Vardon had tuberculosis during the British Open. He almost collapsed between rounds and was coughing up blood, but sipped on a pint of Guinness for strength and then went out later that day and won. Guinness is wonderful.
What's wrong with me?
Anyone else want to admit to something they love more than they should?
18 October 2009
The Search of God and Guinness
Labels:
book review
Thomas Nelson, the publisher of the book The Search for God and Guinness sent me a copy of the book for my review on my blog. This book, by Stephen Mansfield, tells the almost unbelievable story of Arthur Guinness and his family. Arthur Guinness founded the Guinness brewery in 1759. While the story of the growth and success of Guinness Brewery is amazing enough, what was a real surprise was the story of his family and descendants and how the simple brewing of, what is in my opinion, a wonderful beer truly changed the face of Ireland and possibly the world for the better.
Let me first say, this book will make you extremely thirsty. As Mr. Mansfield described the brewing process and even touched on the health benefits of beer, I found it difficult to resist cracking open a cold Guinness myself. Gladly, I succumbed to the temptation and from then on enjoyed the book even more.
With what appears to be little information on Arthur Guinness himself, Mr. Mansfield's story is one of the Guinness family tree and how they used their fame and wealth to help so many people. I was amazed at the collection of stories of those associated with the Guinness Brewery and all the good they did. While any one of the stories of the family rebuilding St. Patrick's Cathedral Church or one becoming one of the best known preachers in the world or being a pioneer of the concept that a company should care for the health and well-being of its employees, is inspiring, it is the weight of each story on top of the other that made this story truly remarkable and almost unbelievable.
There is a lesson regarding how individuals and organizations should use wealth and influence in making the world a better place, and given the current environment of much suffering due to the greed of those in power, this is something to be heeded. However, what God laid upon my heart was how the family passed down these values from generation to generation. All of us who, wether we are wealth or powerful, should, like Arthur Guinness, pass down eternal values to the next generation. If I can so deeply imprint the principles of God into the hearts of the next generation that those principles are passed on and on, then I have left this world a very rich man.
Amazon here
09 October 2009
Catalyst 2009
Wow, what a couple of days. For some degree of context, I need to tell you that I had a lot of expectations going into this conference. I was really struggling for the few weeks before. The worries of our finances, my professional future, the many decisions we are facing or could face, the insane pressure at work, transitions in our family, and then the obligatory list of small concerns were beginning to weigh on me. I was stressed and I needed God's help. I was close to the end of myself.
God did show up. There seemed to be a pretty constant theme throughout Catalyst this year amongst the majority of speakers. I wonder if others saw the same theme, or if God emphasized something else through the 2 days. What God impressed upon my heart was, God was asking me to run my race, not the race I see others run or trying to run, but my race, the race He has set for me and I should run that race well.
From the first session with Andy Stanley in which he reminded us that God does not come to play a role in our story, but we are designed to play our role in His story. Rob Bell called us all to enjoy the place we find ourselves and not to concern ourselves with others and their achievements or success but just the thing that is now in front of us and obey God in that, then the next, then the next, and walk with Him. Matt Chandler finished up Thursday with a message on running the race before you and running your part well. He said it was ingratitude toward God to desire someone else's place in life. Then Friday morning Priscilla Shirer spoke on leadership and she made gave us the example of Joshua, when crossing the Jordan, did not move until God moved. God was the leader and we should, like Joshua, not move unless God is in it. Jesus claimed He did his Father's will and nothing else. As a result, we should only do those things God asks of us and nothing else. Dave Ramsey was wonderful and challenged each of us to "Figure out our Deal" and then with Intense Focus over Time, with God, we can gain unstoppable momentum. Chuck Swindoll inspired us with some of the leadership lessons he has learned over the past 50 years. He said one concept he has learned is God's way is better than our way.
There were other great speakers and I was inspired and convicted and encouraged by all of them. However, this theme of finding God's calling for me (figuring out my deal) and then pursuing that calling or running that race well and moving only when God does step by step, day by day was something God really impressed upon me.
Right now, it's hard to know what to do. Should I be looking for another job? Should I be blanketing our industry and all my family and friends with my resume so that I can be ready if something goes wrong at my current job? Why does neither my wife or I have any peace about that?
Maybe, going forward, God is asking me to walk with Him step by step and leave the results in His hands.
Andy Stanley said his father lived by this principle: "God takes full responsibility for the life wholly devoted to Him."
That is what I am called to now in this season and throughout my life. To walk with God, day by day in a life fully devoted to Him and leave the results and consequences in His hands.
The future is no more certain now than it was before Catalyst 2009, but there is so much more peace knowing that by daily walking with Him, I will fulfill His perfect plan for my life and I can live in the freedom of leaving the consequences in His hands.
God did show up. There seemed to be a pretty constant theme throughout Catalyst this year amongst the majority of speakers. I wonder if others saw the same theme, or if God emphasized something else through the 2 days. What God impressed upon my heart was, God was asking me to run my race, not the race I see others run or trying to run, but my race, the race He has set for me and I should run that race well.
From the first session with Andy Stanley in which he reminded us that God does not come to play a role in our story, but we are designed to play our role in His story. Rob Bell called us all to enjoy the place we find ourselves and not to concern ourselves with others and their achievements or success but just the thing that is now in front of us and obey God in that, then the next, then the next, and walk with Him. Matt Chandler finished up Thursday with a message on running the race before you and running your part well. He said it was ingratitude toward God to desire someone else's place in life. Then Friday morning Priscilla Shirer spoke on leadership and she made gave us the example of Joshua, when crossing the Jordan, did not move until God moved. God was the leader and we should, like Joshua, not move unless God is in it. Jesus claimed He did his Father's will and nothing else. As a result, we should only do those things God asks of us and nothing else. Dave Ramsey was wonderful and challenged each of us to "Figure out our Deal" and then with Intense Focus over Time, with God, we can gain unstoppable momentum. Chuck Swindoll inspired us with some of the leadership lessons he has learned over the past 50 years. He said one concept he has learned is God's way is better than our way.
There were other great speakers and I was inspired and convicted and encouraged by all of them. However, this theme of finding God's calling for me (figuring out my deal) and then pursuing that calling or running that race well and moving only when God does step by step, day by day was something God really impressed upon me.
Right now, it's hard to know what to do. Should I be looking for another job? Should I be blanketing our industry and all my family and friends with my resume so that I can be ready if something goes wrong at my current job? Why does neither my wife or I have any peace about that?
Maybe, going forward, God is asking me to walk with Him step by step and leave the results in His hands.
Andy Stanley said his father lived by this principle: "God takes full responsibility for the life wholly devoted to Him."
That is what I am called to now in this season and throughout my life. To walk with God, day by day in a life fully devoted to Him and leave the results and consequences in His hands.
The future is no more certain now than it was before Catalyst 2009, but there is so much more peace knowing that by daily walking with Him, I will fulfill His perfect plan for my life and I can live in the freedom of leaving the consequences in His hands.
04 October 2009
It's beginning to look a lot like...
Maybe it is all the uncertainty out there, or maybe it is a change of perspective due to the economy, but I am really looking forward to losing myself in the Christmas season this year.
Every year, my Christmas obsession begins at the first sign of autumn. In Atlanta, it is typically over 90 degrees through August and well into September. In early September my mornings typically include my wife wining how hot it is and that she can't wear her long sleeve t-shirts and how unfair that is since it is September and how the weather is cool in Paris or New Jersey right now and if we lived there...about this point I tune out to keep from crying.
However, there will be one 3 day stretch near the end of September in which we will get a lot of rain mixed with a slight cool front, and I will wake up to a slightly brisk morning with temperatures in the low 60's. I will notice a brown crunchy leaf on the ground. Against my will, a switch is set to the "On" position in a part of my brain that knows how to decorate sugar cookies and thinks the combination of red and green is brilliant.
All the voices in my head simultaneously stop their constant jabbering and begin to softly sing..."It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, Everywhere you go...". It's the one of the few times the voices agree. I see evidence of this everywhere. I see the red and green of traffic lights as decorations. As my son puts together Legos in the living room, I am suddenly transported to Christmas morning in which I attempt to figure out some piece of technology while my beautiful wife and son put together a 500 piece Lego model of the Death Star. The classical music on NPR sounds more like the beginning "The First Noel" by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir than Bach. I break out the sweaters and jackets.
Of course, a few days later I regret this as I hear the talking head on the weather channel call for "Freaky Hot in Atlanta mixed with humidity as thick as my over styled hair. If you can go through the day naked covered in ice, that would be best." I sweat through the next few days in a wool sweater and a festive turtleneck, but do not let the pool of perspiration that builds in my pants on the way to work and the fact my eyes burn at the smell of my own body odor diminish the level of my Christmas spirit.
My commitment is rewarded like it was this weekend at Target. We just finished picking out my son's Halloween costume for the year, and I was getting over my jealousy that my son grows up in an age in which full Darth Vader costumes, with full internal musculature and lightsabers, are available where I was forced to pretend to be Obi Won by stealing my parents brown bed sheets and trying to make a broom handle blue with food coloring and crayons. I tell myself to be happy for him as I turn the corner and find myself in the middle of an isle surrounded by decorations for "the most wonderful time of the year." To my left are fake evergreen trees while to my right are enough decorations for all the trees in the world. There are candy canes, and stockings, and garland. I am absolutely giddy. Right now, even the small figurine of Santa visiting the manger of Jesus does not detract from this moment. Christmas is here in all it's glory...at least it is here at the one isle in Target in early October. But it's here.
My wife sees me and knows it has begun. I will soon come home from work with a bag of groceries filled with hot chocolate, smores, and peppermint candy canes. We begin asking each other what we want for Christmas. We both know that these requests are not to be taken seriously. They are fueled by my delirious ecstasy that is the beginning of our Christmas season.
For me Christmas is filled with hope. It is the end of another year and I am filled with hope for next year. Our industry is a lot slower from right before Thanksgiving until the new year. Rarely does a developer want to begin a project at the end of the year. There are parties and get-togethers and time spent with those I love. It is a more relaxed pace and a time we as a family connect and laugh and play games and watch old Christmas movies. We over-decorate our house, as those who have visited can attest. Last year we had 5 trees in our little house, with garland and stockings and lights inside and outside.
But it is so much more. I take the Christmas time and reconnect with God, thanking Him for sending His son to save the world. Not just the people in the world, but to redeem the world itself. There is so much pain and suffering by so many people and that is not what God intended. He loves us so much that He did not give up on us. His plan is to redeem His creation and return it to the perfection we and His creation were created for. That is a comforting thought. I see the glass nativity scene on my mantel in the office and am impressed at the bravery of Joseph and the love and commitment of Mary and the irony of that small baby in the manger. I love that small baby more than anything, more than my wife and kids, more than myself and more everything on His earth. I have devoted my life in serving and saying "Thank You" to that small baby for all He has done for me. God's crazy plan was the redemption of all of creation through a baby. Amazing.
In the midst of all we find ourselves in, all the frustration and happiness, all the broken and realized dreams, all the sadness and joy, all the pain and beauty, I try to remember that He has not given up on me. Christmas reminds me of that.
I can't remember a holiday season in which these words ring so true for me.
We need a little Christmas
Right this very minute,
Candles in the window,
Carols at the spinet.
Yes, we need a little Christmas
Right this very minute.
Slice up the fruitcake;
It's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough.
For we need a little music,
Need a little laughter,
Need a little singing
Ringing through the rafter,
And we need a little snappy
"Happy ever after,"
Need a little Christmas now.
Need a little Christmas now.
Come on Christmas. If anyone is up for caroling anytime soon, let me know.
I need a little Christmas now.
Every year, my Christmas obsession begins at the first sign of autumn. In Atlanta, it is typically over 90 degrees through August and well into September. In early September my mornings typically include my wife wining how hot it is and that she can't wear her long sleeve t-shirts and how unfair that is since it is September and how the weather is cool in Paris or New Jersey right now and if we lived there...about this point I tune out to keep from crying.
However, there will be one 3 day stretch near the end of September in which we will get a lot of rain mixed with a slight cool front, and I will wake up to a slightly brisk morning with temperatures in the low 60's. I will notice a brown crunchy leaf on the ground. Against my will, a switch is set to the "On" position in a part of my brain that knows how to decorate sugar cookies and thinks the combination of red and green is brilliant.
All the voices in my head simultaneously stop their constant jabbering and begin to softly sing..."It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, Everywhere you go...". It's the one of the few times the voices agree. I see evidence of this everywhere. I see the red and green of traffic lights as decorations. As my son puts together Legos in the living room, I am suddenly transported to Christmas morning in which I attempt to figure out some piece of technology while my beautiful wife and son put together a 500 piece Lego model of the Death Star. The classical music on NPR sounds more like the beginning "The First Noel" by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir than Bach. I break out the sweaters and jackets.
Of course, a few days later I regret this as I hear the talking head on the weather channel call for "Freaky Hot in Atlanta mixed with humidity as thick as my over styled hair. If you can go through the day naked covered in ice, that would be best." I sweat through the next few days in a wool sweater and a festive turtleneck, but do not let the pool of perspiration that builds in my pants on the way to work and the fact my eyes burn at the smell of my own body odor diminish the level of my Christmas spirit.
My commitment is rewarded like it was this weekend at Target. We just finished picking out my son's Halloween costume for the year, and I was getting over my jealousy that my son grows up in an age in which full Darth Vader costumes, with full internal musculature and lightsabers, are available where I was forced to pretend to be Obi Won by stealing my parents brown bed sheets and trying to make a broom handle blue with food coloring and crayons. I tell myself to be happy for him as I turn the corner and find myself in the middle of an isle surrounded by decorations for "the most wonderful time of the year." To my left are fake evergreen trees while to my right are enough decorations for all the trees in the world. There are candy canes, and stockings, and garland. I am absolutely giddy. Right now, even the small figurine of Santa visiting the manger of Jesus does not detract from this moment. Christmas is here in all it's glory...at least it is here at the one isle in Target in early October. But it's here.
My wife sees me and knows it has begun. I will soon come home from work with a bag of groceries filled with hot chocolate, smores, and peppermint candy canes. We begin asking each other what we want for Christmas. We both know that these requests are not to be taken seriously. They are fueled by my delirious ecstasy that is the beginning of our Christmas season.
For me Christmas is filled with hope. It is the end of another year and I am filled with hope for next year. Our industry is a lot slower from right before Thanksgiving until the new year. Rarely does a developer want to begin a project at the end of the year. There are parties and get-togethers and time spent with those I love. It is a more relaxed pace and a time we as a family connect and laugh and play games and watch old Christmas movies. We over-decorate our house, as those who have visited can attest. Last year we had 5 trees in our little house, with garland and stockings and lights inside and outside.
But it is so much more. I take the Christmas time and reconnect with God, thanking Him for sending His son to save the world. Not just the people in the world, but to redeem the world itself. There is so much pain and suffering by so many people and that is not what God intended. He loves us so much that He did not give up on us. His plan is to redeem His creation and return it to the perfection we and His creation were created for. That is a comforting thought. I see the glass nativity scene on my mantel in the office and am impressed at the bravery of Joseph and the love and commitment of Mary and the irony of that small baby in the manger. I love that small baby more than anything, more than my wife and kids, more than myself and more everything on His earth. I have devoted my life in serving and saying "Thank You" to that small baby for all He has done for me. God's crazy plan was the redemption of all of creation through a baby. Amazing.
In the midst of all we find ourselves in, all the frustration and happiness, all the broken and realized dreams, all the sadness and joy, all the pain and beauty, I try to remember that He has not given up on me. Christmas reminds me of that.
I can't remember a holiday season in which these words ring so true for me.
We need a little Christmas
Right this very minute,
Candles in the window,
Carols at the spinet.
Yes, we need a little Christmas
Right this very minute.
Slice up the fruitcake;
It's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough.
For we need a little music,
Need a little laughter,
Need a little singing
Ringing through the rafter,
And we need a little snappy
"Happy ever after,"
Need a little Christmas now.
Need a little Christmas now.
Come on Christmas. If anyone is up for caroling anytime soon, let me know.
I need a little Christmas now.
30 September 2009
Someone should have warned me
I am ruined…let me tell you a story.
I lingered a few steps behind her, not knowing my place, as she waded through the sea of middle school kids. Everyone seemed happy and talkative with their friends. I caught a glimpse of my daughter’s eyes sweeping the crowd desperately looking for a familiar face. She was nervous driving over here and it just built as we pulled in and got out of the car. My heart just went out to her. Finally she sees a thin brown haired boy, and she calls out his name. He looks up as he runs to meet his friends behind us. “Hey Julia,” he says as he continues to run to catch up with his friends. She is hurt. Her one lifeline that she reached out for ran past her as quickly as she found him. Now I know that this kid was not being mean, he is an 11 year old boy and wants to hang with his friends, but I know that hope was gone and her fear grows as a result.
We are here at our new church on a Wednesday at a service specifically for 6th graders. We switched to this church hoping Julia would meet someone at church who also went to her school. We discussed this as a family and Julia was really excited. We felt it would be great for Julia to have friends that went to both her school and church as she entered middle school. So here we are, doing what we think is best, hoping God honors our efforts. God help my beautiful, sweet, fragile daughter.
We enter the church and find out that the 6th graders are upstairs. Julia practically sprints up the stairs hoping someone up there will say hello and give her someone to sit with. She beats me up the stairs and as I reach the top I catch a glimpse of her heart and a lump begins to grow in my throat. The fear on her face is so familiar. I have felt exactly what she is now feeling. She put on her coolest T-shirt and favorite jeans and Chuck Taylor shoes. She even put her contacts in. She hates her contacts, but she bears the discomfort. Her hair is overbrushed because she does not like the way it looks. She does all this just so she can find someone to sit with and not feel out of place.
She paces through all the kids and finds no one. She looks up at me with eyes that I hold so dear. Eyes that catch the sun and bring such joy into my life. Her beautiful face is flushed with fear. The awkwardness is thick and she feels it so hard. It crushes her, feelings of being out of place, fear of disappointing me, anxiety from just not knowing what to do. If someone…anyone would just show up now it would all be fine. Just one girl out of the dozens and dozens that are here, one girl with a smile and an invitation, “Hey Julia, will you sit with us?” That is all we hope for, and it is not to be found.
She comes and stands beside me the only safe place she can find. She knows this respite is temporary and continues her search. The exercise of desperation with trying to look cool is impossible. I tried it and could not pull it off and neither can my wonderful daughter. I almost begin to blame myself for not giving her the genes that I lacked in situations like this. I wanted her to be brave and confident in her beauty and sweet spirit. She is so smart, smarter than anyone in my family, and she is a great friend, loyal and funny. Her wit and sarcasm makes even me laugh every day. Those who have had the privilege to experience it understand. She is one of the best things that will ever happen to me in my life and right now I just wish all these other horrible middle schoolers would just recognize what an amazing person they are ignoring. She is better than all of them, but she feels the complete opposite right now. She feels she is the worst of them.
I ask her if she wants me to wait or leave. I did not want my presence to make things difficult. Julia, being the sweet girl she is, leaves it up to me. I look her in the eye with all the compassion and seriousness I have and say, “What do YOU want?”
“Please stay,” she replies and gives me a smile.
Tears begin to well in my eyes and I have to look away. I want to grab her and take her away from all of this and love her and somehow show her how special she is and how she deserves to be delighted in by the world. Songs should be created in her honor. The gap between what she deserves verses what she is experiencing right now, right in front of my eyes, is bigger than the love of God, at least that is what it feels like.
Blinking back the tears, I turn as I hear the leaders asking everyone to head in. It’s time to start. I see Julia look up and possibly see a life raft in the dark angry sea she is swimming in. It is someone, and even without asking she follows her into the room. Julia doesn’t look back to say goodbye and I understand. She can’t let this person out of her sights.
I stand there, a mess inside, completely ruined as I see the pain my daughter went through and wonder why did it have to be that way. She is doing the right thing. She is doing what she is being asked and she knows it would be great for her to go to get involved at this church her parents chose. She shows courage that I don’t have and does not give up even though every one of those evil voices in her head are using this opportunity to destroy her heart. She has to fight off the voices that tell her she is not pretty and she feels the rejection deep within her. Why her? Why is she different? Where is her friend? Why can’t God give her someone, anyone, just a familiar face, just someone to sit with? She is doing her part, why can’t God do his part.
The helplessness I feel is overwhelming, knowing this is one incident and there will be so many more. I can’t protect her from this. She does not deserve this, but what can I do? Nothing…I can do nothing to keep the wounds from building on her young and precious heart.
Now I sit and wait. Praying desperately that she is having a good time and that her face is lit with that breathtaking smile she has. I hope she feels God’s warmth and pleasure through a friend. I hope they get in trouble from giggling too much tonight.
God, I love her so much. Take care of her when I can’t. She is the best of me and deserves so much better than what I have to offer her. Protect her heart because I can’t and that kills me.
I lingered a few steps behind her, not knowing my place, as she waded through the sea of middle school kids. Everyone seemed happy and talkative with their friends. I caught a glimpse of my daughter’s eyes sweeping the crowd desperately looking for a familiar face. She was nervous driving over here and it just built as we pulled in and got out of the car. My heart just went out to her. Finally she sees a thin brown haired boy, and she calls out his name. He looks up as he runs to meet his friends behind us. “Hey Julia,” he says as he continues to run to catch up with his friends. She is hurt. Her one lifeline that she reached out for ran past her as quickly as she found him. Now I know that this kid was not being mean, he is an 11 year old boy and wants to hang with his friends, but I know that hope was gone and her fear grows as a result.
We are here at our new church on a Wednesday at a service specifically for 6th graders. We switched to this church hoping Julia would meet someone at church who also went to her school. We discussed this as a family and Julia was really excited. We felt it would be great for Julia to have friends that went to both her school and church as she entered middle school. So here we are, doing what we think is best, hoping God honors our efforts. God help my beautiful, sweet, fragile daughter.
We enter the church and find out that the 6th graders are upstairs. Julia practically sprints up the stairs hoping someone up there will say hello and give her someone to sit with. She beats me up the stairs and as I reach the top I catch a glimpse of her heart and a lump begins to grow in my throat. The fear on her face is so familiar. I have felt exactly what she is now feeling. She put on her coolest T-shirt and favorite jeans and Chuck Taylor shoes. She even put her contacts in. She hates her contacts, but she bears the discomfort. Her hair is overbrushed because she does not like the way it looks. She does all this just so she can find someone to sit with and not feel out of place.
She paces through all the kids and finds no one. She looks up at me with eyes that I hold so dear. Eyes that catch the sun and bring such joy into my life. Her beautiful face is flushed with fear. The awkwardness is thick and she feels it so hard. It crushes her, feelings of being out of place, fear of disappointing me, anxiety from just not knowing what to do. If someone…anyone would just show up now it would all be fine. Just one girl out of the dozens and dozens that are here, one girl with a smile and an invitation, “Hey Julia, will you sit with us?” That is all we hope for, and it is not to be found.
She comes and stands beside me the only safe place she can find. She knows this respite is temporary and continues her search. The exercise of desperation with trying to look cool is impossible. I tried it and could not pull it off and neither can my wonderful daughter. I almost begin to blame myself for not giving her the genes that I lacked in situations like this. I wanted her to be brave and confident in her beauty and sweet spirit. She is so smart, smarter than anyone in my family, and she is a great friend, loyal and funny. Her wit and sarcasm makes even me laugh every day. Those who have had the privilege to experience it understand. She is one of the best things that will ever happen to me in my life and right now I just wish all these other horrible middle schoolers would just recognize what an amazing person they are ignoring. She is better than all of them, but she feels the complete opposite right now. She feels she is the worst of them.
I ask her if she wants me to wait or leave. I did not want my presence to make things difficult. Julia, being the sweet girl she is, leaves it up to me. I look her in the eye with all the compassion and seriousness I have and say, “What do YOU want?”
“Please stay,” she replies and gives me a smile.
Tears begin to well in my eyes and I have to look away. I want to grab her and take her away from all of this and love her and somehow show her how special she is and how she deserves to be delighted in by the world. Songs should be created in her honor. The gap between what she deserves verses what she is experiencing right now, right in front of my eyes, is bigger than the love of God, at least that is what it feels like.
Blinking back the tears, I turn as I hear the leaders asking everyone to head in. It’s time to start. I see Julia look up and possibly see a life raft in the dark angry sea she is swimming in. It is someone, and even without asking she follows her into the room. Julia doesn’t look back to say goodbye and I understand. She can’t let this person out of her sights.
I stand there, a mess inside, completely ruined as I see the pain my daughter went through and wonder why did it have to be that way. She is doing the right thing. She is doing what she is being asked and she knows it would be great for her to go to get involved at this church her parents chose. She shows courage that I don’t have and does not give up even though every one of those evil voices in her head are using this opportunity to destroy her heart. She has to fight off the voices that tell her she is not pretty and she feels the rejection deep within her. Why her? Why is she different? Where is her friend? Why can’t God give her someone, anyone, just a familiar face, just someone to sit with? She is doing her part, why can’t God do his part.
The helplessness I feel is overwhelming, knowing this is one incident and there will be so many more. I can’t protect her from this. She does not deserve this, but what can I do? Nothing…I can do nothing to keep the wounds from building on her young and precious heart.
Now I sit and wait. Praying desperately that she is having a good time and that her face is lit with that breathtaking smile she has. I hope she feels God’s warmth and pleasure through a friend. I hope they get in trouble from giggling too much tonight.
God, I love her so much. Take care of her when I can’t. She is the best of me and deserves so much better than what I have to offer her. Protect her heart because I can’t and that kills me.
21 September 2009
Was I like that?
Right now, my poor wife is trying to get our son to take his medicine for a cold he caught over the past few weeks. He is sitting at our kitchen counter overcome with nervous laughter and as a result delaying the inevitable. He tries to engage his mother in a lively discussion on where in the mouth is the best place to put the medicine to reduce the anticipated unpleasant taste. He claims directly on his tongue is best, while his mom argues for the side of the cheek or under the tongue. She begins to explain the concept of taste buds and where they reside in the mouth of humans (directly on the tongue), but she stops herself. Eventually, she gives up and tells him to take the medicine wherever he wants, just please take the medicine.
He requires glasses of water and a certain dispenser syringe. He now is asking if he can squirt the medicine into the water and then just drink the water. Months ago, we tried this, and it made the water so disgusting, he could not drink it so we had to pour it out and he took his medicine the normal way. We remind him of this and it appears he had remembered this previous incident all along. It appears he was just voicing his options for our benefit rather than an actual proposal he might have considered.
By now, I jump in, attempting to be rational and show my son a new and larger perspective of things. I ask him to consider if there is any way he will get out of taking the medicine tonight. Between giggles, he responds with a "No". I then tell him that he is just delaying the inevitable, so why not just get it out of the way, take your medicine and we can then all go and enjoy our evening. This however appears to fall on deaf ears. He responds to my comments with a request to discuss the Halo Legos toy he has been promised by his mother once his 2 weeks of medicine is up. We assure him that he will get the Halo Legos toy, but he needs to take his medicine now or that reward may be in jeopardy.
This appears to have some affect on my son. He turns to face his fate and as he starts to raise the small plastic syringe to his mouth, another round of nervous giggles burst forth, and we are once again where we started.
My wife is not amused by this, while his sister finds this a bit humorous and responds with a quick laugh. He takes this reaction from his sibling to manufacturer fits of laughter and glee which make him powerless to take the required medicine.
Sighs emanate from his parents and there is an unseen "hitching up of the pants" from both his father and mother. Things have turned serious and we know our daughter senses this by clamping her hand over her mouth to remove any possibility of any further outbursts.
My son in a last ditch effort plays the single card that gives him the delay he so desperately seeks. "I gotta go to the bafroom." I look my beloved bride in the eyes who once dreamed of living in Paris, being married to an successful author and spending her time taking photographs of the world, and see the tiredness grow. We know we are going to lose this battle. Images of the result of released bowels and bladders spring to mind. We see our son, with tears streaming down his face, standing in the middle of our living room with half the pink syrupy medicine mixed with spittle and vomit on his shirt and the other half still in the syringe. His pants are soiled along with the carpet around him. He looks at us with eyes filled with fear and confusion and malice and says, "I told you I had to go to the bafroom."
"Fine, go to the bathroom, but get down here as soon as your done and take this medicine, you understand." His lack of reply is noted as he scampers up the stairs faster than one who in his supposed predicament should.
Silence cuts the tension as me and my once radiant wife and our daughter look at each other and await the sick one's return. He comes out of his bathroom with his pants around his ankles and stands at the top of the stairs.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I'm scared"
"Of what"
"Of the man I accidently saw on TV today."
I shoot a glance at my wife and see her hang her head. She relates the story of earlier today of my son watching a popular television channel that show cartoons for kids. For reasons I cannot begin to understand in my feeble mind, this particular movie company thought 7 year old boys were the perfect target audience for a movie that is to come out this Halloween season that features a masked man stalking and killing innocent victims in lightning storms. How that ties in with SpongeBob Squarepants, is beyond me. My wife attests to the scariness of the trailer and with heavy steps I go upstairs to turn on the bathroom light and check behind the shower curtain.
I return to my seat and in a few minutes hear strange noises coming from the bathroom. Grunting of an unusual nature can be heard. My wife calls my son's name and there is no answer. I start getting a bit worried. After all, my son is sick and he may be having some allergic reaction. I yell louder, "Are you OK?"
"Yep", he replies in a loud and content voice.
"What are you doing up there? Were you grunting?"
"What's grunting" is the reply heard from my first born.
My wife steps in, since she is more fluent in the language of toilet that exists between a child and a mother. "Were you pushing?", she yells up the stairs.
"No, I was sort of pulling in", is his reply.
We both stare at each other in shock and wonderment. My daughter is required to clamp another hand over her mouth to suppress laughter as my wife runs up the stairs to see what that comment was concerning.
5 minutes later, she returns alone, looking even more shocked and desperate.
"What happened up there?", I ask of my lovely soul mate.
"You don't want to know. It hurt him to...go."
"No really, what happened? Is everything OK?'
"Let's just say I had to resort to telling your son that he needs to push because the...well you know...were bad guys and he needed to push them out to send them away."
"What the..."
"Listen, it worked, all right. He got it. I don't to talk about it anymore."
Just then we hear my son bound down the stairs. He appears ready for another round.
"Listen," I say feeling the full exhaustion of a dreadful day at work in a miserable economy and a profession with no future and the knowledge that my son needs to compare his own waste to bad guys. "If you take this medicine, right now, we will get ice cream tomorrow."
"Really?", he asks.
"Really."
"And I get my Halo Legos and the ice cream?"
He's got me here. Clever one. I forgot about the promise of his mother. By using his youth, he has taken advantage of our slow minds and has gotten another reward for doing something that will only make him healthier, happier, and stronger.
"Yes, Halo Legos and ice cream." I can taste the resignation in my mouth as the words pour forth. I am ashamed in front of my wife that I let my 7 year old son trick me like he did. I look up and see compassion in her eyes. She knows I am dealing with a foe that can so easily be underestimated. I see a knowing look in her eye. I immediately recall the time my son could not find his shoes for some function that required shoes, so were were forced to go get him a new pair. Given our haste we were not able to fully negotiate as we would have wanted and as a result, my son received another pair of light-up Spiderman shoes that did not have laces and were way too expensive. He managed to find the original pair of shoes within hours of getting home. Clever one.
"Great! I get Legos and ice cream." And with that, before our eyes, our son plunges the medicine into his mouth, takes a small sip from one of the many glasses of water in front of him, kisses both his mother and I on the cheek and bounds upstairs for bed.
I have no right to get angry. I got what I wanted. My son took his medicine and then went calmly to bed. He played me like a fool and as a result he deserves his due reward.
I slump in my chair resigned to the fact that I have been beat. The realization that in less than 24 hours, we will be confronted with the same battle sends a shiver down my spine. However, there is peace tonight, and for that I am happy. I begin to plot my revenge. I bet if I could find a mask like that guy in the movie trailer, my son would think twice about pulling another one over on his father.
Where can I get that mask?
He requires glasses of water and a certain dispenser syringe. He now is asking if he can squirt the medicine into the water and then just drink the water. Months ago, we tried this, and it made the water so disgusting, he could not drink it so we had to pour it out and he took his medicine the normal way. We remind him of this and it appears he had remembered this previous incident all along. It appears he was just voicing his options for our benefit rather than an actual proposal he might have considered.
By now, I jump in, attempting to be rational and show my son a new and larger perspective of things. I ask him to consider if there is any way he will get out of taking the medicine tonight. Between giggles, he responds with a "No". I then tell him that he is just delaying the inevitable, so why not just get it out of the way, take your medicine and we can then all go and enjoy our evening. This however appears to fall on deaf ears. He responds to my comments with a request to discuss the Halo Legos toy he has been promised by his mother once his 2 weeks of medicine is up. We assure him that he will get the Halo Legos toy, but he needs to take his medicine now or that reward may be in jeopardy.
This appears to have some affect on my son. He turns to face his fate and as he starts to raise the small plastic syringe to his mouth, another round of nervous giggles burst forth, and we are once again where we started.
My wife is not amused by this, while his sister finds this a bit humorous and responds with a quick laugh. He takes this reaction from his sibling to manufacturer fits of laughter and glee which make him powerless to take the required medicine.
Sighs emanate from his parents and there is an unseen "hitching up of the pants" from both his father and mother. Things have turned serious and we know our daughter senses this by clamping her hand over her mouth to remove any possibility of any further outbursts.
My son in a last ditch effort plays the single card that gives him the delay he so desperately seeks. "I gotta go to the bafroom." I look my beloved bride in the eyes who once dreamed of living in Paris, being married to an successful author and spending her time taking photographs of the world, and see the tiredness grow. We know we are going to lose this battle. Images of the result of released bowels and bladders spring to mind. We see our son, with tears streaming down his face, standing in the middle of our living room with half the pink syrupy medicine mixed with spittle and vomit on his shirt and the other half still in the syringe. His pants are soiled along with the carpet around him. He looks at us with eyes filled with fear and confusion and malice and says, "I told you I had to go to the bafroom."
"Fine, go to the bathroom, but get down here as soon as your done and take this medicine, you understand." His lack of reply is noted as he scampers up the stairs faster than one who in his supposed predicament should.
Silence cuts the tension as me and my once radiant wife and our daughter look at each other and await the sick one's return. He comes out of his bathroom with his pants around his ankles and stands at the top of the stairs.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I'm scared"
"Of what"
"Of the man I accidently saw on TV today."
I shoot a glance at my wife and see her hang her head. She relates the story of earlier today of my son watching a popular television channel that show cartoons for kids. For reasons I cannot begin to understand in my feeble mind, this particular movie company thought 7 year old boys were the perfect target audience for a movie that is to come out this Halloween season that features a masked man stalking and killing innocent victims in lightning storms. How that ties in with SpongeBob Squarepants, is beyond me. My wife attests to the scariness of the trailer and with heavy steps I go upstairs to turn on the bathroom light and check behind the shower curtain.
I return to my seat and in a few minutes hear strange noises coming from the bathroom. Grunting of an unusual nature can be heard. My wife calls my son's name and there is no answer. I start getting a bit worried. After all, my son is sick and he may be having some allergic reaction. I yell louder, "Are you OK?"
"Yep", he replies in a loud and content voice.
"What are you doing up there? Were you grunting?"
"What's grunting" is the reply heard from my first born.
My wife steps in, since she is more fluent in the language of toilet that exists between a child and a mother. "Were you pushing?", she yells up the stairs.
"No, I was sort of pulling in", is his reply.
We both stare at each other in shock and wonderment. My daughter is required to clamp another hand over her mouth to suppress laughter as my wife runs up the stairs to see what that comment was concerning.
5 minutes later, she returns alone, looking even more shocked and desperate.
"What happened up there?", I ask of my lovely soul mate.
"You don't want to know. It hurt him to...go."
"No really, what happened? Is everything OK?'
"Let's just say I had to resort to telling your son that he needs to push because the...well you know...were bad guys and he needed to push them out to send them away."
"What the..."
"Listen, it worked, all right. He got it. I don't to talk about it anymore."
Just then we hear my son bound down the stairs. He appears ready for another round.
"Listen," I say feeling the full exhaustion of a dreadful day at work in a miserable economy and a profession with no future and the knowledge that my son needs to compare his own waste to bad guys. "If you take this medicine, right now, we will get ice cream tomorrow."
"Really?", he asks.
"Really."
"And I get my Halo Legos and the ice cream?"
He's got me here. Clever one. I forgot about the promise of his mother. By using his youth, he has taken advantage of our slow minds and has gotten another reward for doing something that will only make him healthier, happier, and stronger.
"Yes, Halo Legos and ice cream." I can taste the resignation in my mouth as the words pour forth. I am ashamed in front of my wife that I let my 7 year old son trick me like he did. I look up and see compassion in her eyes. She knows I am dealing with a foe that can so easily be underestimated. I see a knowing look in her eye. I immediately recall the time my son could not find his shoes for some function that required shoes, so were were forced to go get him a new pair. Given our haste we were not able to fully negotiate as we would have wanted and as a result, my son received another pair of light-up Spiderman shoes that did not have laces and were way too expensive. He managed to find the original pair of shoes within hours of getting home. Clever one.
"Great! I get Legos and ice cream." And with that, before our eyes, our son plunges the medicine into his mouth, takes a small sip from one of the many glasses of water in front of him, kisses both his mother and I on the cheek and bounds upstairs for bed.
I have no right to get angry. I got what I wanted. My son took his medicine and then went calmly to bed. He played me like a fool and as a result he deserves his due reward.
I slump in my chair resigned to the fact that I have been beat. The realization that in less than 24 hours, we will be confronted with the same battle sends a shiver down my spine. However, there is peace tonight, and for that I am happy. I begin to plot my revenge. I bet if I could find a mask like that guy in the movie trailer, my son would think twice about pulling another one over on his father.
Where can I get that mask?
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