The last time I wrote, Shelby and I were days away from setting out on a much awaited trip to see some really beautiful part of this country…two weeks together that would end with us getting to experience one of the greatest outdoor concert venues in this land, with one of our favorite Christian artists – Mercy Me.  That was over a year ago.

Lately, their song “Dear Younger Me” has been playing over and over in my head…I think maybe calling me to this keyboard to punch something out.  But, as usual, I didn’t know what or why.

To say a lot has happened in the 440 days since my last entry would be the understatement of a lifetime.  We don masks, wipe everything down, watch where we breathe – and observe people from all walks try to understand their own “new normal”.  And heck, this is just from the past 5 months or so!

There’s more an edge to everybody than I’ve seen in a long time – perhaps ever.  The stresses of everyday life – from routines interrupted to something as simple as going to the grocery store, are putting many, including me, on an anxious and/or angry brink that it’s just a bit of a challenge to find the joy sometimes.

But it’s not all for naught.  I’ve used the time to do some introspection as well.  I met and hired a wonderful coach for us by the name of Elizabeth…or Eli as I occasionally call her.  In our first face to face meeting, she had picked up on my concerns about money (this was well before COVID had a chance to push that stress to the limit).  I remember at the time she asked me point blank what my money story was.

I didn’t know what she meant – but I knew enough to get defensive.  Maybe she landed on a sore spot.

As time goes on, I find more and more sore spots.  My weight.  My diet.  My anger.  My anxiety…my ANXIETY.  My obsessive overthinking.  And I laugh to even say this – but my perfectionism.

I laugh because I think of anybody who knows me probably associates me as a guy who doesn’t give a damn about perfection.  In my mind, perfectionists have it all together…nothing out of place…everything, well…perfect.  I discovered my overthinking was perfectionism.

What many may see as a lazy underachiever – which isn’t far from the truth, is really a costume.  If I wasn’t near-paralyzed by wanting to know everything about every step…let me repeat….EVERYTHING, about EVERY step BEFORE I TOOK IT so that I KNEW…without a SHADOW of a doubt, that I’d do it right; well, you’d see a far more accomplished guy than what I have to show for it.

Sure life is great.  I’ve got love I never knew existed.  I’ve got kids – both of my own and three of Shelby’s – that I wouldn’t trade for anything.  I’m getting by.  We live in a nice place – even if it needs repairs WAY more often than I like.  We have wheels.  We have work and can make a living.  We are well fed (as mentioned above, I’m extra-well fed.

But I’ve got a BUNCH of limitations.  Money is just the easy one to see.  Hey, I’m an accountant – we naturally worry about money.  No, mine go way deeper than that.  If you found money as my problem, keep digging…you’re nowhere close.

Like a lot of folks, I’ve got some pretty good self-worth issues.  Sometimes I think maybe I don’t deserve some of the goodness I’ve been given, there’s no doubt about that.  But I did a lot of counseling on that over the years and was able to see the value better than before.  It’s amazing though, that that can still be a struggle here and there.

Keep digging.

There’s the anxiety.  That’s not a deep dive either.  That one’s in our blood.  We worry about stuff just for the sake of worrying about stuff sometimes.  Man that drives me crazy when I watch mom do it…but I do the same thing.  And the anxiety isn’t just about money or anything else I’ve talked about…I’m a constant “What-if analysis”.  I think that sorta drives Shelby nuts sometimes.  If anything, it’s made her a little more anxious about things than she wants to be – and for that, man I hate that part of me has rubbed off on her.

Still not there.

I’m not sure I’ve figured it out.  It’s like my old favorite U2 song, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for”.  I always thought that song was about finding the love of my life.  I’m starting to realize it’s more about life in general.  We all want answers…and my answer-seeking is usually about why I feel like I’m so (insert your favorite negative adjective).  The answers can’t be found.  And as much as I try to remind myself about the “fearfully and wonderfully made” in the Bible, I still want answers.

Twice this week, I’ve had mentors tell me a derivative of “Stop overthinking” and “Just do it”.

Perfectionism puts my feet in concrete blocks heavier than the foundation under this house I’m sitting in.  I hear it.  I process the words.  Stop overthinking.  Just do it.  And inside when I’ve got perfectionism cornered, it screams “WHAT IF I FAIL!!?”

The greatest pain is seeing these same things materialize in your kids.  My two own “younger me” kids…man I love them both so very much.  I want so much to hold them up like the character Jack Nicholson played in “As good as it gets” when he holds his puppy up to his eyes and says “don’t you be like me!”.

Grace, Ward…you guys are so perfectly made.  So fearfully and wonderfully made.  Don’t be like me.  I mean, sure, be witty and funny.  Be loving.  Be nice.  Be respectful.  Burp.  Fart.  (Those last two, refrain from doing it too loudly in public).  Be compassionate.  Don’t hate.  Stay positive.  But for God’s sake, please…don’t try to be perfect.  Be happy with your imperfections…they’re what make you both awesome.  You have nothing to fear.  YOU.HAVE.NOTHING.TO.FEAR!  So when you feel it – stare it down eye to eye and laugh at it. 

Briella – goodness gracious, girl you are a diamond.  Don’t compare yourself with anybody – they’re likely comparing themselves to you.  Run your race and know we’re cheering you on.

Nico, dude, you’re a far different person than you were 2 years ago.  You’ve gone from boy to man in front of our eyes.  And I see where you are working through some of the same stuff I’ve worked through in life…keep going.  Don’t stop.

Dom, you too.  You never really had a problem just being yourself.  You most definitely have your mother’s heart for people, even if you try to cover it nowadays with that early-teen, boy-to-man hormone overload.  Keep that heart.  It will serve you throughout your life.

And of course, I can’t say anything without turning to that woman that said yes to this crazy roller coaster a few years ago.  Keep pushing me. I need it.  I’m not sure I’d work as hard on myself if I didn’t see you doing the same.  And you seem to be getting better with not being so hard on yourself about little stuff. I think you’ve finally stopped beating yourself up about not being able to read my mind.  Trust me…you don’t want inside this head.  Just you being you helps loosen some of the dirt between my ears so I can think clearly.

“Dear younger me…all of you;
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this – any of this – beyond the cross.”

What does that mean exactly?  I don’t know…I think for me it means the perfectionism, the anxiety, the stress about money and everything else was covered at the cross.  My job is to just do the work and don’t overthink it.

And listen, life is going to be bumpy.  Expect it.  The corvette ain’t gonna work on these roads and as soon as you think you’re on a speedway, you better start looking for a 4×4 because something’s about to get bumpy.  That said, live life full on.  All out.  Hold nothing back.  You get one shot – make the best of it…and do it every day.

Love,

Tim

P.S. Here’s the song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-l70C3ePyIQ

There are a great many tributes to fathers this Father’s Day.  Some to current  dads young and old.  Some to step-dads who’ve taken big roles in their “bonus kids’” lives.  Some to moms, rightfully so, for pulling double-duty whether it’s due to them being single moms or married to the military – or any other reason (there are plenty of reasons out there).  All that I’ve seen are touching.  Some are funny…some are tear-jerkers.  Marketing gurus have honed in on all our celebrations these days so that, for those who watch any sort of recorded entertainment – whether it be the old fashioned television, or any number of subscriber services available online – we’re reminded, if not bombarded, that some holiday is upon us and let’s get some emotions stirring.

I guess it’s good I don’t watch a whole lot of TV…or YouTube…or much else for that matter.  Not because I’m noble…probably because I scroll too much Facebook or play too many games on my phone.

That notwithstanding, I do cherish the time I have with family…and that time gets sweeter by the day as I prepare myself mentally and emotionally to drop my oldest off at college in 9 weeks.

The other night, my lovely bride and I got back to an old card game she taught me a few years ago.  We both grew up fond of board games and card games so it was a natural fit that we took to playing games with one another.  Friends cringe in disbelief that we played a whole lot of card games on our honeymoon two years ago.  I can say with all honesty that we’ve played cards in some of the most beautiful scenery you can imagine…from the patio of a hotel with direct view of Denali in the midnight sun, to an airport in Cozumel waiting to board our plane home, or from our balcony on a cruise through the Inside Passage, there’s just no place we won’t pull out those cards.

In my own father’s tradition…a bit of an obnoxious one…each time I come out victorious, I stretch my right arm in the air and say to her in the same voice Dad used to: “HOLD MY HAND UP!”.

I watched a lot of Saturday Night Wrestling when, as a child, my parents would go to friends or family to play cards or dominoes.  I watched an occasional boxing match as well…and, if you’ve never seen it, at the end of a match, the referee holds up the winner’s hand as a symbol of victory.  So when I’d play games with Dad, and he’d win, he’d holler “HOLD MY HAND UP!” and, just like my dear bride, sometimes I would and sometimes I wouldn’t strictly out of disgust.  LOL.

Yeah…see, I told you…it’s a little obnoxious…but it’s a little fun, too.

But I’ve been on a fast moving train of reflection the past few weeks and months, and have been stirred recently to write a bit.  It’s been almost two years – back to my wedding day to be exact – since I last posted anything on my blog and, again, very honestly, life’s been a little too crazy to be able to capture much time for writing.  However, with all the reflecting I’ve been doing, I felt it time to slow down and get this much out there.

So I want to start, by Holding Up the Hands of the children in this household.  Between us, Shelby and I have 5 kids.  We refer to our spouse’s kids not as step-children, but as “bonus-kids” and we both find that quite fitting.  For coming up with that term alone, I hold my wife’s hand up.  She’s the reason this household ever has a positive vibe and spin…much less the reason we get fed and out the door most days.

I’m honoring our kids oldest to youngest – without regard to whose they are – because, they’re all OURS!

First, Grace.  I HOLD YOUR HAND UP because YOU DID IT!  You got accepted to your first choice University, you balanced an incredibly crazy load the last couple of years, you rode almost every roller coaster known to man the past few years to get to this point, and…wow…you won!  I am so excited for you to experience learning in a brand new setting – to see how well the past 13 years at one school has prepared you, and most of all, to see just who you’re going to become.  I have no doubt about your success – no doubt there will be a few more roller coasters too, but know that you’re prepared.

Next up, Briella. I HOLD YOUR HAND UP because of all you have to manage…and how well you do it.  Yeah, we’ve seen the ups and downs, and ride right alongside you when you do it, but YOU’RE DOING IT!  You work to cover insurance and gas…and enough for some spending money of your own, and your grades are admirable standing on their own, much less after you take into account your after-school schedule.  I watch you honor your friends like nobody I’ve known…and you love giving gifts and doing nice things for people, even when you’re just flat worn down.  You don’t back down and I love that!

Ward, dude…I HOLD YOUR HAND UP because of all you’ve accomplished at school AND home.  I’m not sure if it was NOT getting salutatorian in 8^th grade that motivated you, or what, but to take home the honors in every class…EVERY class this year?  It was almost embarrassing!!!  Ha!  Not really, I was bursting with pride…and ecstatic for you!  But you’re even better at keeping the peace and fighting for what’s fair.  You don’t like conflict and strive to find peace between people if you sense something brewing.  I worried about that at first – that you were sticking your nose where it didn’t belong…but now, I see and know your heart, and young man, in my book, that’s a victory to have that skill.

Nico, bud…I HOLD YOUR HAND UP for perseverance.  I won’t go into private details from the past year, but we both know the challenges you’ve faced.  You proved the moniker “not an athletic kid” completely false by taking home not one MVP trophy at the Middle School Awards Banquet…but TWO!  You stuck to it during football season, even as asthma seemed to have a grip on you, and learned two field events in shotput and discus that you’d never even thought of before…racking up tons of points for your track team, and earning…EARNING the nickname “King Nico”.  Better than that, I see you sticking up for your friends – guys who may not be as accepted around school as the popular kids, and that is more honorable than an MVP award any day.

Dom…DOMINATOR…I HOLD YOUR HAND UP because of your heart.  Your mom likes to say you’re definitely her son…a reference to the tenderhearted kid that you are.  You wear those emotions on your sleeve, and I have a secret for you…so do I.  I did growing up, the same way you do every day.  (FYI, your mom and I are a LOT alike).  Here’s a secret…99% of the time, people are going to love that most about you.   You may see it as a weakness, but it’s a strength.  It’s those 1% out there I want you to watch out for.  You’re stronger than they are, but you don’t know it…yet.  One day you’ll know this and I know you’ll be a lot more confident in just how much you bring to the table.

I only briefly mentioned Shelby earlier, because I wanted dedicated space to honor my wife.

Those who have worked with her know her dedication.  Those who have befriended her know her sweet soul.  Those who have crossed her know of her grace.  Those who have eaten a meal at her table, know of her skill in the kitchen.  Those who have prayed with her know that she’s so authentic, her prayers often move her to tears – and she prays a lot.  Those who have been in or around her classroom know of her creativity and genuine care for every child under her care.  Those who have worshipped with her know that she sings her heart out at every song.

I’d be here all day, every day, holding up my wife’s hand because every day she IS a winner!  But like a lot of you winners out there, she doesn’t necessarily believe that about herself.

And pretty simply, that’s why I wanted to write this note.  You see, I’ve learned a lot about life…about winning…and about losing…the past few years.  A lot of what I thought was “winning”…wasn’t.  And conversely, some of what I thought about “losing”…wasn’t either.  Winning takes many forms, shapes, and sizes…and sometimes, it can take days or weeks of reflection to find even the smallest of victories.  But sometimes, those may be the only victories we’ve got to go on…and if nobody’s there to hold our hands up, we ought to do just that ourselves.

If you’re reading this far, I hope you’ll stop and reach out to those who you’ve seen do some things, no matter how ordinary they may seem, and hold their hand up in victory.  We could all use it these days.

I’ll close with this:  Psalm 63:3-4 reads, “Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.  I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I WILL LIFT UP MY HANDS!”

So you…I HOLD YOUR HAND UP!

When I look back at the road that led me to where I am now, I can certainly say that it’s not all smooth pavement.  There are some places that were paved, and some I saw wash away in a flood of emotions, tears, and pain.  Some of that was self-inflicted…some I’m not sure I could, to this day, define what or how it happened.  But the road of the past 18 months has certainly been an interesting journey.

18 months ago, I started a journey with a gal who would become the love of my life.  And today we will marry and put our wheels on yet another interesting road leading us through some breathtaking sights and sounds…and most likely a couple of off-road journeys we never saw coming.

There’s not another lady on this planet I’m better suited to, nor another person on this earth I’d entrust to join me on a journey of this magnitude.

If you’ve read my blogs before, you’ll know 9 times out of 10, I’ll tie what I’m writing to a song or two.  It’s like a thought gets stuck in my head and a song pushes that thought into a message.  Well, on the eve of our wedding, I’m going to share eight songs that define so much of what we’ve learned and experienced as we’ve grown through our own individual lives…and these eight songs are playing during our wedding celebration.

U2’s “Where the Streets Have no Name” starts it off pretty simply.  “I want to run.  I want to hide.  I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.  I want to reach out and touch the flame…where the streets have no name.”  There’s plenty written about the meaning behind this song, and I’m pretty sure mine is not unique, but also not common.  Specifically – to me – it speaks as a song to address anxiety.  I’m no stranger to fear – and allowing it to impact the decisions I’ve made along the way.  The idea of tearing down the walls that hold me inside is precisely what I want.  And it takes an undeniable amount of trust in selecting a partner to whom you can divulge and just get that vulnerable with – to address anxiety that can sometimes suck so much of the fun out of life.  The representation of street s that have no name, to me, is going places I’ve never been before – dreaming dreams and doing things I’ve never thought I could accomplish because I was held back by some sort of fear.

All that said, I’m still not a fan of roller coasters.  😉

John Mayer’s “The Heart of Life” speaks to the core of our relationship.  There is good all around us…we just have to choose to see it.  I generally was a bit of a Pollyanna growing up, but I allowed some of those washed out roads to turn me into a cynic…and that cynicism is not a flattering color on me (and it’s really difficult to wash off).  But as the song says, “Pain throws your heart to the ground.  Love turns the whole thing around.  No it won’t always go the way it should, but I know the heart of Life is good.”

Shelby is the Pollyanna I used to be…she even gets uneasy when I talk bad about the next Texas A&M opponent – saying they’re all God’s children.  We continue to disagree as to whether that applies to my Longhorn friends…I’m sure she’ll swing me on that someday, too.  But in all seriousness, another great line comes in the bridge of this song where he repeats “Pain throws your heart to the ground.  Love turns the whole thing around.”  But he changes the next line to “Fear is a friend that you misunderstood.  But I know that the heart of my life is good!”

If I’ve come to grips with anything the past few years in my life personally, I very much misunderstood my fears and have learned, one by one, to come to grips with them.  I’m in repair…and I’m getting there.  Having someone that is the female version of me has really helped that work progress.

That leads to another song that we’ve both learned the hard way – each in our own ways.  “Ordinary Love” by U2 (yes, again) says something about this winding, bumpy road we’ve been on: “All the beauty that’s been lost before, wants to find us again…The sea throws rocks together but time leaves us polished stones.”  I’d venture she’s far more polished than I am at this point, but we’re certainly both in much different places than we were in recent memory.

The chorus of the song says: “We can’t fall any further if we can’t feel Ordinary Love.  And we cannot reach any higher if we can’t deal with Ordinary Love.”  That’s pretty self-explanatory.  Love takes work…and a whole lot of that requires an Ordinary Love.  But if that foundation is strong, that love will take you to extraordinary heights.

From there, we move to the Goo Goo Dolls remake of Supertramp’s “Give a Little Bit.”  I grew up a giver.  I loved surprising people…and blessing them in whatever way I could – especially if I could make it meaningful.  But my brand of giving usually involved a female love interest.  Yeah I’d give to others in need, etc., but I didn’t seek that out.

When we went out on our second date, I had it figured out.  We were going to Barnes & Noble (I know…romantic) after dinner and I’d buy her a book I had picked out (she loves real paper and real books).  But low-and-behold, this girl had beaten me to the punch.  Shelby read one of my early blogs – one that meant a lot to me in writing because it summoned memories of growing up and listening to Paul Harvey with my mom and dad (“What really happened on the 8th day”) – and on that second date she had a gift wrapped all pretty in what looked like a repurposed paper sack and tied with a piece of twine…what was it?  An album of Paul Harvey’s “The rest of the story”.  She knew I had bought a record player for my daughter just a few weeks before for Christmas so she effectively tied several things together.

Later when I got a little freaked out by this lady’s generosity, my friends said, “Tim, she’s just like you.”  On the outside looking in, I get what they were saying.

But they were wrong.

She’s so much more about giving of herself than I ever thought I’d be.  Here’s  a kindergarten teacher raising 3 kids – and when she hears of somebody in need, she doesn’t waste a breath to help.  There’s no payback.  There’s no expectation.  There’s no hope for a love interest or any string attached.  She lives out the Golden Rule at every turn.

Telling her to “Give a Little Bit” might just be asking her to cut back.  But she has such a sacrificial love for all people – even complete strangers – that one has to try really hard to NOT see God’s light shining through her.

The Beatles’ “With a Little Help From My Friends” was always a fun song to me.  It’s a short little song that’s pretty self-explanatory.  We get by with a little help from our friends.  Hey look folks, we’re all in this together – living with genuine friends – not just those that always like our FB posts, but people we stay in intentional community with – those relationships are irreplaceable.

Our processional was settled the moment we saw Guardians of the Galaxy 2.  Electric Light Orchestra’s “Mr Blue Sky”.  The words are pretty repetitive and some even seem to imply we’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.  Hmm…I guess maybe?  Either way, it’s a fun song that the kids identify with and, at the end of the day, with us putting her 3 kiddos with my 2, there’s plenty of goodness to be had in making this a fun event for the kids.

My future bride settled on Pharell Williams’ “Happy” for her processional.  There’s just no better song to try to wrap around the feeling we both have that this moment is in front of us…until you get to our recessional.

 

A few weeks back at church, during the reflection time at the end of the service, we sang a favorite among modern Christian music listeners – This is Amazing Grace (by Phil Wickham).

 

I grew up singing Amazing Grace in church for years.  Great words and an overall favorite hymn of many church-goers.  But, I will say, if anything…Amazing Grace doesn’t sound all that exciting musically.  And while it speaks to how fortunate we are to be in receipt of such grace by a God who loves us, it honestly sounds like somebody else’s song.  But “This is Amazing Grace” really speeds it up to a real life story.

We’ve both worked individually on our faith journey the better part of 6-7 years.  God was working on us…and…sometimes cooperatively and sometimes not so much – He got us situated in a position to meet 18 months ago.

When you hear Shelby’s story…where she came from and how she got here.  Or when you listen to mine and how stubborn I was at any number of times during my adult life.  It is nothing short of amazing that we met in the first place.   But that this thing developed into a love of a lifetime…where we’ve met our match and then some – that’s nothing short of Amazing Grace.

We firmly believe – because we’ve seen Him at work in our lives as a couple the past 18 months – that God’s hand is in this.  And when you tie in the fears we both have – fears I didn’t even touch on in the first few paragraphs – you know it’s going to take something very special to push this thing the right direction.  It takes knowing that The Heart of Life – that is, a loving Savior who loves you regardless of your decision – is very good.  It takes an understanding that you ought to have Ordinary Love so you can achieve Extraordinary Love.  It’s knowing that life isn’t about taking, but giving.  It takes a little help from friends.  It takes Mr Blue Sky moments – where you get to just be a kid again.  It takes dancing down some aisles to Happy…even when the happy moments seem to be absent for a period.

What is Amazing Grace?  It’s the power to break the darkness.  It’s knowing a mighty love from God is above all else.  It’s those moments of awe. It’s knowing…KNOWING…that a Savior died not just for all the good things you do…but those not-so-proud moments too.

We are not so Pollyanna to think or assume this will be an easy journey.  There will likely be some bumps in the road…even a few washed out bridges.  The difference now for both of us:  This very Amazing Grace.  We know…we know of one another – that we are nothing without Him.  And we will call ourselves out for trying to do too much, when all we need is a little help from the one friend who counts most – God.

Shelby,

There’s not a person on this planet I’d take this plunge with.  I say that because none of them would’ve been sent from above.  I say it because there’s no doubt we understand each other’s yoke.  Most importantly, we understand that faith in the Father above will get us a lot further on our journey – and likely get us there with much less damage to the tires.

I love you.  Not more.  Not less.  I love you like you love me.  Ordinary.  Extraordinary.  A little more each and every day.

Let’s get this show on the road!

For those who’ve read my stuff along the way, you’ll know it’s been quite a while since I’ve put anything into words. To be honest, I’ve been enjoying a bit of life and not worrying much about writing everything down. But I’ve also been contemplating how to write this one for longer than I care to admit.

See, today is my oldest child’s 16^th birthday. And the new old car, and newer smart phone, and all the “happy birthdays” her dad can package up don’t do near the justice to the love I have for her. I told her a little bit ago, “”You get one life to live. Live it. Wisely, fun, whatever. Live it however you define it. Don’t let life box you in. You be the box-maker.”

Some parents would cringe at that advice. Some will pat me on the back and say “great job”. Truth be told, I don’t care much for opinions of others when it comes to my kiddos. They, like all of us, have their own strengths and challenges…their own talking points…their own sensitivities. And I usually think of myself as a reasonably good communicator and relator. But I digress…

In these past 16 years, we’ve both done lots of growing up. Some of it by choice…some of it by chance…and some of it like nobody ever saw coming. I’m so proud…so so proud of what this child has become, I can’t really put it into words. Resilience is a word that gets overused in discussing people who come through things with flying colors, etc – but my daughter is certainly resilient. Bravery is often used to describe warriors – but I think she defines a sort of bravery…those of you who were teenage girls – or heck, teenagers in general know what I’m talking about.

Adventurous is another term I’d brand her with…but perhaps not in a way many people think of adventure. From her earliest years, she’s managed not one week of camp away from home every summer…but 5. Topping that off, she added a few weeks away from home each summer to attend an academic camp. None of these have ever made me all that happy – but like my advice from above – “live it how you define it”.

This child has very much “defined it”.

I mentioned in a previous post our favorite song from the group Train, “Drops of Jupiter”. More and more this past year, I’ve felt like the writer in this song as it relates to my daughter. Throughout the song, the singer beckons the target of his affection:

“Tell me”

Such as, tell me “did you sail across the sun?”

Tell me “did you make it to the Milky Way?”

Tell me “did you fall for a shooting star?”

Tell me “did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”

Tell me “did the wind sweep you off your feet?”

Tell me “did you finally get a chance to dance along the light of day?”

Tell me “did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find?”

Tell me “did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”

I so feel all these things – especially when she returns from her summer weeks away. I just want to know what all has happened…what experiences she’s had…what was great…what wasn’t so great. And it hits me summer after summer, day after day really – she’s got her own life. She’s living that life. Living those choices. Living through her own good and not-so-good decisions.

She’s…frankly…a person.

And that causes me to reflect on plenty.

I reflect on my own choices. I reflect on good and bad decisions. I reflect on my health – emotional, physical, etc. But mostly, I reflect on my job as a dad. I’ve done reasonably okay in many categories, and flopped in others. I can’t help but thank God that my child has the aforementioned resilience. It’s her resilience that has often covered for my shortcomings.

The song says in one line, “she reminds me that there’s room to grow”. Anybody reading this ever feel the same? So often the fatherhood experience sends gentle (and plenty of not-so-gentle) reminders that there’s room for us to grow. My oldest has, over the years, given me lots of room to grow while she’s been doing her own growing.

Scottie;

I love you. I have since the moment I found out you were coming into this world. If a love can grow daily, my love for you certainly has. And as you’ve grown older, and needed me less and less, I want you to remember that no matter how those drops of Jupiter play out, I’m here. Good, bad, or ugly – no matter how life gets, I’m here.

You remember our old Pastor Dennis Wilkinson. I had lunch with him one day while trying to force my own resilience. I told him all these big plans I thought God had for me and, so wisely, he pointed out (in a way I’m going to butcher) that God wasn’t all about the big things. While those certainly are great and all, He really just wants to come along with me for the ride.

I guess I totally get that now. Not saying that I’m God by any stretch, but I understand the feeling when it comes to you and your little brother. I want to hear how things are going…I want to see your life experiences…I want to experience some of it with you. I, simply, want to come along with you for the ride sometimes.

If I get in your way sometimes, I’m sorry. Understand my duty as dad. And understand my undying love for you.

And beyond everything else, remember that I love you with an everlasting and endless love. Through all the ups and downs, the easy and the challenging, the camp songs I’m not allowed to play on the radio, the videos of us singing fairly awfully together…through anything and everything, I’ll always love you kiddo. 6, 16, or 60 and beyond. You’re my kiddo and I’m so blessed God picked me to be your dad.

Love,

Dad

And here’s our song for you…and if it’s a camp song, listen anyway and tell me the tears you’re crying are for me rather than camp. 😉

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc

For the first time in 3 years, and only the second time in 16 or so years, I finally took a vacation.  In this bachelor life I’ve come across so many who list “travel” as a passion.  It’s never really been one of mine (til now) because, well, frankly…I’ve just not done much of it.  Oh sure, the occasional road trip here or there…but never really going much of anywhere with the soul purpose of kicking back for a week and just letting time tick off without a worry in the world.

The trip accomplished its purpose…I kicked back, relaxed, had some fun, drove in a foreign country (without any knowledge of the language other than Cerveza, Tequila, and Baño…and Tortilla, of course), got the rental car stuck in beach sand in a rather remote part of said foreign country, saw whales, read a book, took a dinner cruise, hung on the beach…and the list of relaxing stuff goes on.  I conquered a fear – well, let’s say “faced” the fear…not sure I conquered it…but I zip-lined for the first time ever and had a blast.  And hey, I even searched (rather unfruitfully) for 5, yes 5, Sea Turtles that happened to call a beach outside of Todos Santos their home (refer to aforementioned getting stuck in beach sand).  While I found the much-sought-after “Turtle Time Share”, I was bummed to know I couldn’t see them unless I wanted to hang out for 4 hours when they were released…apparently the Sea Turtles take it easy til night time.  Oh well.

It was a bit crazy to take such a trip at this time of year – the cusp of busy season right in front of me…but whales don’t spawn year-round where I was going, and I was bound and determined to see it.  I got what I was asking for both going and coming, a relaxing life-long memory, and a world of BUSY-ness when I got back home.  It’s hard to find center sometimes when you come back from taking time off…that much I get.  As ready as I thought I was…I wasn’t.  But what I really wasn’t ready for was some of the emotional things upon my return…

***

In Coldplay’s “Fix You” (video link below), the line “tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can’t replace” was particularly poignant.  Upon returning, news rang out of two local teenage girls who’d taken their own lives.  Lots of confusion abounded as to motives, whether or not they were related, and a lot of other unanswered questions that arise in that time.  The gut-wrenching thing for me was that parents and family members were at a loss…an irreplaceable loss.

I’ve got a 15 year old daughter (one of the reasons I don’t take too many vacations the past 15 years…ha).  She’s had her ups and downs.  She’s a sweet, smart, gorgeous girl with a huge heart and a passion for music.  And usually…mostly usually…she loves her dad, and that’s what matters.  I’ve got an 11 year old son…gregarious, slightly obnoxious, almost always funny, and, well, as my family says, a spittin’ image of his dad.  I can’t help but hold both my kids a little tighter after the news of the two local girls.  I missed them while I was away…but missed them even more when I got back and got that news.

But that particular news story wasn’t quite done…

I’ve got a dear friend who works in healthcare at a local ER.  Not only had her hospital taken in one of the girls, but the other girl’s mom is a friend and co-worker of hers.  That’s not necessarily any closer to home for me, personally, but it felt like it was.  I work with a crew of folks that I know quite well, and in many senses of the word, we are like family.  Losing anybody off the team, or anybody’s family member off the team would take its toll on us, for sure.  I can’t imagine the pain of the parents of these girls, and, quite honestly, can’t imagine the pain of feeling like you’re that close to someone going through it.

Then, another story…relayed to me from one of my very best friends.  It was a family friend who had a young boy clinging to life after successfully fighting off Leukemia with chemo and other aggressive treatments.  Apparently the treatments had been so aggressive that it caused some other maladies inside his body – and ultimately the young boy succumbed to brain swelling, etc.  It affected everybody who knew him…young classmates who’d been pulling for him, facebook followers who were collectively pulling for him…and a community who had committed to prayers and everything else to keep his hope alive.

While I didn’t know any of the kiddos, or their families…I couldn’t help but get emotional about the news, and the impact on my friends’ lives as well.

So here we are entering Lent, a season when Christians focus on prayer and atonement in order to grow closer to God.  One custom many are aware of is self-denial.  Often you hear of people giving-up meat, chocolate, or something else meaningful in order to accomplish this focus and growth.  I couldn’t help but parallel that these families are already denied having their precious kiddos – not for 40 days…but for a lifetime.  How do they grow closer to God in a time like this?

I’m not sure I have any answers…but I have one that works for me.

If you’ve read much of my stuff, you know I associate music to life – it’s certainly a passion of mine to practically become engrossed in music.  When this song came on, it helped make a little sense of things.  I don’t really agree any more on the premise that anybody can be “fixed” by another person.  I know there’s plenty of research out there supporting that…and trust I have plenty of experiences where I’ve either been on the giving or receiving end of a repair, and it doesn’t work as well on people as it might on cars, houses, and any other fixed non-living object.  But the overriding message of this song was this:  “Lights will guide you home…and ignite your bones.”

Without a faith in “The Light”, this walk of mine would be far worse than me wandering around in a foreign country stuck in beach sand looking for turtles that don’t swim til night-time.  When everything else fails…when stuff falls down around me and I can’t seem to see any way out, I remind myself to look for “The Light”.  It may not replace the thing I’ve lost, it may not give me what I thought I wanted, it may not stop the tears streaming down as fast as I’d like, but it will, without fail, guide me home.  And in that home, I’ll find rest…I’ll find the one thing that CAN fix me.  And I will, like the song says, have my bones re-ignited to go try again.

This Lent (which honestly I haven’t participated in very much, if at all, in years past) my prayers and reflection are about my commitment to family, friends, and the Light that can guide me home.  If there’s any self-denial for me the next 6 weeks, it’s about giving up those things that take me any further away from my path than I already am…it’s not about giving up anything for me this year, as much as it is about me growing closer.

With all the tough news, there was a single flash of light for me last week.  I’m fairly close with a very cool younger couple who I know through my work.  On my first day back, I texted one to meet me outside so I could give her the pancho she’d asked for from my vacation.  While we were outside, she told me some great news.  These two, who’d faced struggles for a number of years trying to have a baby…were finishing their first trimester…they were pregnant!  And there they came – tears streamed down my face.  I asked later if they had a nickname for the fetus…and you’ll never believe the answer:  “Turtle”.

 

Lights will guide you home.

 

Blessings to you all,

Tim

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM&index=1&list=RDk4V3Mo61fJM

 

 

I’ve spent much of my reflecting in these blogs on my personal issues, the lessons I learn from my kiddos, and memories of my dad who passed away over 25 years ago now.  Focusing on my problems is easy – I’ve got plenty.  And who doesn’t love reflecting on their kiddos – it’s easy.  With the influence of my dad – that’s an easy target to write about as well.  But it’s tougher to write about somebody who’s right there in the trenches with you – and has been since you were in diapers…and before.

I’m talking, of course, about my mother.

It’s easy to write something on Mother’s Day – everybody remembers them on Mother’s Day.  But for 364 of the other days of the year, my mom goes quietly about her way making sure everything is fine in the world she cares about.  And besides the obvious biology lesson, I wouldn’t be where I am without her.

Right this minute, she’s in carpool line covering take-home duty that I would otherwise have to take time from work to do myself.  I guess I chose this time of day to write it so she’d not have anything emotional to mess with til she gets home later today.

My mom has been through tons – her whole life.  I may only identify with the last 46 years of it – but the stories I heard of her picking cotton in the fields as a child til her fingers bled, and seeing a family down the road completely decimated by a tornado when she was a child, and every story she’s cared to share since then, make me realize I have the love of the most special lady God could’ve ever chosen for me.

That cotton-picking story…always reminded me of Proverbs 31:17-19.  I see so much publicity given in social media to being a “Proverbs 31 woman”, and so many folks striving to do it – but mom…she did it…and she does it every day.  To this day she can still sew – although she does it less than I remember as a child…when patterns from the fabric store draped our dining room table every weekend.  She’d cut, and sew, (and cuss a little in the process – ok, so maybe not FULLY Proverbs 31), and cut and sew some more, until she’d made the prettiest clothes for whomever it was she was making it for (I think usually my sister).  And Proverbs 31:24 always reminded me of Mom when I’d read it, too.

Mom’s not perfect.  None of us mortals are, anyway.  She worries too much and even though she knows she shouldn’t, she does anyway.  No one…and I mean NO ONE questions Mom’s loyalty, and Mom’s love for her kiddos, grand-kiddos, and now, great grand-kiddos.

Mom’s dealt with loneliness far more than I hope I ever have to.  And yet she’s done so with strength and grace…and some great friends she’s made along the way.   Some of these folks are lifelong friends, and some she’s just become acquainted with in recent years.

Proverbs 31:30 (Amplified version) says:

“Charm and grace are deceptive, and beauty is vain [because it is not lasting], but a woman who reverently and worshipfully fears the Lord, she shall be praised!  Give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates [of the city]!”

Mom, I’ve never thought your charm and grace were deceptive, but very sincere.  And I still think you’re the most beautiful lady I know.  You should be praised, every day, by all of us who know you…and especially by me.

Thank you so much for all you do…I could never begin to repay you for any of it.

For a guy good with words, I find myself limited when I tell you just how much I love you.  I’m glad God picked you to be my mom…and glad He picked me to be your son.

I love you!

-Tim

Patience is more than a virtue

18 more days.  In that much time, my daughter will come home from a summer filled with friends – old and new, a new crush, a happy smile, and a lot of dirty laundry.  And I can’t wait.

Some of you may already know my daughter’s affinity for music.  Her playlist is mostly filled with the songs and genres she and her peers listen to, but occasionally she doesn’t mind listening to one of her dad’s favorite “oldies”.  It’s rare, though, that she likes a band that I liked first – if anything, it’s the other way around.  And it’s lightning-strike-rare that she would EVER care to go to a concert to see someone I like.  Well…before she got away for her summer activities, she was actually EXCITED to go see one of my favorite groups, Train, perform when they came through town.

That little girl probably doesn’t know it…but she made my day.  Heck…she made my year…

We enjoy some of the same songs, but her favorite is “Drops of Jupiter” (video link below).  Well, she’s more industrious when it comes to her concert-going than I am, and she’d found the playlist for the night and noticed that her favorite song would be the last one of the night.  So much for her Dad’s “let’s get outta here before traffic gets bad” M.O.  We were staying til the end.  And honestly, for making this memory – I cared less about traffic and more about just seizing that time.

If anything, that song depicts to me a stage of life I’m watching her go through.  She’s all over the place this summer – and while she only enters high school next month, it feels like she’s practically headed off to college tomorrow.  I know God’s preparing me for something.

She acts like summer and walks like rain,

Reminds me that there’s a time to change,

Hey, hey, hey…

Since the return from the stay on the Moon,

She listens like Spring and she talks like June,

Hey, hey, hey…

I see my oldest needing me less and less.  And I’ve heard before that it makes parents do their own bouts of soul-searching.  I’ve defined almost 15 years of my life now as trying to be a good parent…no, a great parent.  I haven’t always succeeded…and things certainly aren’t what I thought they’d be…but are they ever?  And I can’t help but mix in all the desires to know what tomorrow holds for her…and her brother…but also…FOR ME?  My soul-searching journey is once-again kicking in, and I’m wondering where the next stop will be.

It’s a conundrum, really…wanting to look into tomorrow while holding so tightly onto today.  It’s a challenge in every corner of my life.

A friend whose spiritual journey I respect quite a bit recommended a daily devotional series on the topic of not living life by emotions – but the app was filled with several applicable series that piqued my interest.  The first in the series?  “The Prophet with the Blues”.  Often quoted and oft-used for inspiration, Jeremiah was one of those “gifted” with the ability to see into the tomorrows of centuries ago.  And guess what?  He wasn’t crazy about his ability.  In Jeremiah 9:1, he laments “Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears!”  He saw his people held captive, cities plundered and burned, military disaster, etc.  He also saw the successful arrival of Jesus, so I guess you could say he saw the good and the bad.  Still…I considered after my reflection that getting through each day as gracefully as possible really ought to be my goal.  Concerning myself with too much of the future…the KNOWING HOW IT TURNS OUT AND KNOWING IT NOW attitude needs not be even in the back seat – but left on the side of the road for this particular journey.

Easier said than done – that’s for certain.  In fact, that may be the only thing that IS actually certain.  And that’s where faith steps in.

My faith has to be that the steps I’ve taken to prepare my kiddos for life have all been received and implemented.  What I teach them from this point forward is to have faith.  Just because they can’t see more than a step or two out in front shouldn’t freeze them.  Instead, their confidence in their own abilities coupled with their own fledgling faith in God will get them to the other side of life’s most troubling waters.

One other poignant line in that song speaks to an issue of pride:  The singer sings, “Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”  After laying out all the jet-setting of the love he watched walk away, all he wants to know is that somewhere along the way, maybe she missed him.  I struggle with that not only with my kiddos, but with friends and family at times, too.  If I feel that way about family and friends, I can’t imagine how God must feel about me.  Funny thing is, if I’d consult him while I’m out “looking for myself out there”, perhaps I wouldn’t be looking so much!

I’ve made pretty good strides at times in my faith, but I also take a few steps back every now and then.  It’s part of the human condition.  At the end of the day, in every person’s life, we do our own version of jet-setting through the galaxy and try on our own to experience some pretty amazing things – sometimes we succeed, sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes things are everything we could’ve ever imagined…other times it doesn’t live up to expectations.  I do know this, though…the things I’ve believed in most…where I’ve committed it to prayer, and believed that no matter what, everything would work out as it should, it’s always worked out exceedingly well.  There are times I look around and realize what I’m missing is my most important relationship – the one with the very God who put me on this earth.

It reminds me to “act like summer and walk like rain” – and to remember it’s not all that hard to change my own impatience to an excited expectation of things to come.

Patiently, excitedly expectant of what tomorrow brings,

Tim

PS – here’s the video of Train’s “Drops of Jupiter” for those who want to watch.

I’ll never say I haven’t been blessed. Born into a family of good-hearted parents and siblings, raised a bit sheltered, spoiled for being the baby of the family – I haven’t had to deal with a ton of trauma. It’s a challenge at times, as a single dad, to try to replicate that for my own children – but all it takes is one call to (or from) that same family and we’re back together around a table laughing, playing games, and rehashing the same stories we’ve rehashed for decades now…and laughing more. My daughter mentioned not too long ago how we feel like a family and hearing that felt better than winning a Nobel Peace prize.

By the same token, I’ve been surrounded by friends I wouldn’t trade for anything. We come and go – weaving in and out of all our daily routines – but when we do finally circle around, a quick recap is all it takes, and we’re caught up. We share laughter and tears; we talk about our victories and our fears; and much of the time we just brag about our kids.

Wow…did we go off and grow up somewhere along the way?

Without my friends and family, this particular week would’ve been especially difficult. My youngest was signed up to attend his first-ever overnight camp – for an entire week. He’s 10. No big deal for most folks. Heck, my 14 year old daughter has been attending a 5-week camp since she was in Kindergarten – not that I’ve ever been that crazy about her being gone that long! But anyway, Ward is probably what my family would refer to as “Tim Jr.”. Good-hearted parents, sheltered, spoiled as the baby, etc. Raised as he was, he associated better with adults than kids his own age, so socially he’s had some challenges.

My daughter, who is wrapped up in her own stuff much of the time, now, can sure get her feathers ruffled if anybody thinks of messing with her little brother. Earlier in the week, she asked me how he was doing and was anybody bullying him. I have zero worries that my daughter won’t be able to take care of herself down the road…she’s tough…I’ve seen her in action.

The first full day of camp, my son’s mother received 2 calls from camp, and I got one too by the end of the night. My boy was homesick…and trying to think of everything he could to get away from there. My video-game kid just wanted to come home – saying he missed everybody all the way down to the dogs. The next day, they allowed him to talk to me. His voice cracked and as quietly as he could (so as not to offend the camp director) he asked if I could come get him so he could come home.

I knew I needed to get him through the rest of the day…but I knew by Wednesday, we’d be covered up with rain from a tropical depression moving in and it would be even another day or two before I could venture a trip. Still, my mind was kicking into gear about just going and getting him then – I tortured myself with a “just in case” scenario that said he’d just be safer and feel more loved if I had him with me. By the same token, that other half of my brain was telling me I’d be short-changing him an opportunity to grow.

I emailed a counselor Ward has seen a few times, texted family and friends, and pretty soon, I had my own support group in place. Some agreed I should get him. Others encouraged that he was ok…but nobody was polarized…it was all supportive, whatever direction I chose.

I thought back to my own camping experiences as a boy scout…pretty close to Ward’s age now. It was my first overnight camp – a 2 night camping trip over to Lake Grapevine. It had been a little rainy and gross…but we got there and while the sun was shining, everything was fine. But I freaked out a little when things started winding down and that homesick bug attacked. My brother-in-law was the Assistant Scoutmaster and I probably put him in a bit of a pickle. If he didn’t succumb and get me home, he might have a little hell to pay if I ever remembered it long enough to say anything. I have no idea if he felt that or not, but he let me sit in the truck for a little bit to collect my thoughts and when he came back to check on me, decided he’d take me on back home. He even left my stuff there and went back to the campsite so he could take everything down, etc.

Well, that same Assistant Scoutmaster called when he heard of my son’s struggle…because he knew I was struggling too. We talked through things…nothing I hadn’t already thought of myself…but the humility behind the delivery was like a loudspeaker to my brain – “Tim, he’s ok. He’s not hurt. He’s not dying. He’s in good hands. He’s just homesick…and he’ll be ok.” We talked about all our homesickness over the years – even his when he was separated from the family for the better part of 2 years while working on the other side of the world. It hurts, but you push through.

Somewhere in the midst of all this flying around me this week, I heard an old favorite song of mine that seemed to be the perfect caption for the struggles this week. I’ve always thought of Hootie & The Blowfish’s “Hold My Hand” as a bit of a love song…but as I listened this week, it came across more like the friends and family I described above. In reality, when I sat down to write this morning, I truly thought I’d be weaving this in as my love song to my kids.

“I’ve got a hand for you, cause I wanna run with you…hold my hand! I’ll take you to a place where you can be…anything you wanna be because I wanna love you the best that I can.”

It’s certainly what I want my kiddos to know. We can always take each other by the hand and walk the challenges together. And undoubtedly, I’ll spend a lifetime loving them the best that I can.

But my blessings are even bigger than that. I’ve got family and friends who live this out towards me every day. From encouraging texts, to supportive listening, to positively distracting humor – each and every person in my life this week proved that they had a hand for me. They got me through this week. When I wanted to hop into rescue mode, they threw support at whatever decision I made. Whether I buckled and hauled butt to the camp to get him, or decided to let him tough it out, they were there with nothing but supportive words. Nobody ever said “you’ve gotta do this…you’ve gotta do that” – mostly because they know I shut down when directives start flying around. It was unconditional support.

It got me thinking about a bigger topic though.

Where would we be as a civilization if we could execute this same behavior on a daily basis…to everybody out there? Social media so easily recedes into the derogatory. News is filled with hate crime after hate crime. We are pummeled daily with news of “wars and rumors of war” – the stuff talked about in the same conversations of end times.

Why couldn’t we start by just trying to hold hands and push through our fears? After all, the world is bigger than just us…but we ARE the world. It’s not a planet – it’s a people.

The song starts:

With a little love,
And some tenderness
We’ll walk upon the water
We’ll rise above the mess.

With a little peace
And some harmony
We’ll take the world together
We’ll take ‘em by the hand.

It’s funny…it parallels one of my favorite verses from the Bible…Matthew 17:20 that says if we have just a little faith – faith “the size of a mustard seed” – we can accomplish anything. With a little love and tenderness, we can walk upon the water and rise above this mess. I’m baffled by how much hatred can exist these days – but it’s probably been a truth in this world since the beginning of time. There’s just more of us, now…and things like the internet seem to speed everything up – news to our screen within seconds.

It’s time. It’s time to have some compassion. To rise above the mess. To take our world back. I’m not talking about any geographical grab – I’m talking about peace and harmony. Sure, I’m a Pollyanna at times, but I doubt few will disagree that lately things seem to be spiraling a bit.

Before it gets too far gone, let’s all learn to say, “Hold my hand”.

I wanna run with you.

Loving you all the best that I can,

Tim

PS – if you care to hear the song or even see the video…here you go:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoW3bqnr7tw

With every 9/11 that passes for the past 13 years, we’re struck by the heroics of so many people…people who, most typically, never knew one another before that day.  There’s no shortage of gripping stories from that day…and the images…I confess, I really can’t look at too many of the images for what it conjures up in my own psyche.

It was only a couple of years before 9/11 that I sat in my living room floor, glued to the TV for hours, watching a tragedy that mostly only graduates of my undergrad understood.  Given what we see in our headlines these days, our tragedy that cost 12 fellow Aggies their lives pales in comparison to the terrorism that a handful of campuses around the US have experienced – but still, it was very real to me, having spent time working on Bonfire myself.  Images of heroes – aged anywhere from 18 to 60 and on up, male and female, with all the colors bleeding into one – were all over the screen as students, faculty, residents of the community, etc., all came together to unravel this giant log-pile in an effort to uncover every body buried in that stack.

Fast forward to 9/11 and literally months of newscasts to follow would report on one heroic story after another.  Just this past week, I read the story of Lieutenant Heather Penney, an F-16 fighter pilot, who’d been given an order to take down the 4th jet that had headed toward the Capitol that morning.  The thing about it was…there were no armed fighters that morning, and arming an F-16 would take a minimum of an hour.  So her mission was heroic in more ways than one – she’d been given an order to become a kamikaze pilot.  But as the story would unfold, there were 33 passengers and 7 crew on board flight 93 that morning that will forever be remembered as heroes – as they took it upon themselves to take the plane down well off-target, and well-away from any populous areas.

*****

This week is always a heavy week…for millions of us across this country and abroad.  But truth be told, these stories were only rumbling around inside of me when I sat down for dinner with my kiddos the other night – and stumbled across the reason why I felt compelled to write tonight.

I’ve made mention before of our nightly routine.  It probably doesn’t make my mom proud, but my version of family dinner is throwing together whatever I can that I think the kids will actually consume, getting it all served up…and…sinfully, I’m sure…we all take our spots on the couch and recliner in the den to watch a DVR episode of Modern Family while we have dinner.  Oh sure…it’s not perfect.  It’s not around the table with the TV off and all of us talking about our days until we’re all well-informed – but it works for us, and almost without fail, it gets us all laughing before we jump into our nightly routine.

This past week was an episode from Season 4 titled “My Hero”.  To be honest, I didn’t catch the title until after the episode completed, and I only did so in order to quote it on this blog.  True to form, the episode weaved in and out of 3 simultaneous stories – all of which kept us laughing.  But the sneaky thing about the writing in this show is that they somehow manage to pop you at the end with the feel-good moment – even after laughing at some typically-off-color humor throughout the show.  This night was no different.  At the climax of chaos, things resolve into the typical family harmony when Manny, the step-son of the elder member of the cast, reads from his class assignment on heroes:

What qualifies someone as a hero?  Obviously a hero has to be someone we respect; a person we look up to; a person who is generous of spirit; who’s willing to grow and learn.  Maybe it’s the person you love most in the world; or the guy who makes the most out of life no matter what anyone thinks.  For me though, the hero in my family…IS my family.  Because of who we are together.

I tell you what…I hate when this show brings a tear to my eyes…and it happens more often than I care to admit.

But I’m going to expand on Manny’s summary just a bit.  Over the years – 40+ years of trying to figure things out, and the past few years of getting my crash-course in Life 101, I’ve made friends with many whom I consider heroes.  Heck, if you’re reading this, chances are very good you’re one of ’em.  Why?  Simple…I’ve learned a lot about respecting the hand I’ve been dealt, rather than complaining about it.  I look up to almost everyone for their ability to get out of bed every day and keep on going on their own journeys to make the most of life.

I can also admit that I used to privately shun those who’d say their kids were their heroes…I just didn’t get it.  Well, I’m here to tell you I was wrong on that front.  In fact, I very much look to my two kiddos as heroes.  They’ve dealt with their challenges with grace and approach each day with that childlike faith that everything is going to be ok.

I’ve always said that it was around 2005 or 2006 when I was bit by the bug to write, but truth be told, that bug bit me 13 years ago after 9/11.  I sat down at my computer writing a love letter to my daughter.  I was so scared of what had just happened to our protected little world…and I knew I needed to capture my thoughts so she’d have something to go on years after I’m gone.  It was 2 days later that my little 10-month old earned “hero” status in my book.  We were on a walk and had been working with her on baby-sign language.  Because we lived on the flight path for DFW Airport, we saw PLENTY of airplanes on our walks so along with “milk”, “poop”, “eat”, and “more”, we taught her the sign for “airplane”. We’d been teaching her for at least 6 weeks with no real noticeable connection…until that second day of air traffic grounding when she turned around in her stroller, and with those sweet, inquisitive eyes, she held up her right hand in the sign of an airplane as if to ask where they were.  Since that very day, she’s been my hero.

I’ve written plenty on how my son earned his hero status.  And Manny had it right when he said his hero was his family because of who they were together…the same holds true of my family.  And gang, if I haven’t told you enough lately, I think you’re all heroes.  Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, in-laws, out-laws, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and so on…all of you are heroes in my book.  I’m proud to be one of you – even those one or two that have earned “crazy” status.  😉

Who are your heroes?  Do they know they’re your hero?  Take a minute to let them know…it couldn’t hurt – and it may just be the silver-lining they need on a rather grey day.

Best to you and yours,
To all my heroes,

Tim

 

The past 24 hours have been somber, to say the least. I personally feel like Robin Williams was the comedian for “my time” – having grown up appreciating him from the beginning as Mork on the sitcom Mork & Mindy – and watching him grow into more serious roles in movies later in his career. He was always crazy, always improvising, always…always…always, with so much heart, doing what he could to make others smile and/or think. Years ago, I recall actors and producers commenting that during the making of “Good Morning Vietnam”, it was useless to have a script because Williams just “went with the idea”. Was it great writing or Williams’ delivery that to this day, has all of us remembering just what “Carpe Diem” means? If anybody other than Williams had been cast for that role, I’m not sure I could ever say I would’ve watched it.

But Williams’ decision to call his life complete yesterday has social media abuzz with the fact that we all ought to pay much greater attention to mental illness – and especially depression. I don’t disagree with that whatsoever…but that’s not the intent of my rant tonight.

If today was your last day…

You know, I have a dear friend at work who consistently rides me for my choice in music. I get the “Hey Tim, 1996 called, they want their music back” type cuts all the time. It’s alright. It’s all in good fun. So when you see that I’ve allowed another of yesterday’s hits to inspire me to write tonight, you’ll laugh and hopefully forgive just why. I was out for my walk tonight, thinking through all I’d read – and putting my own life into perspective with where I’m at right now – right at this point in time. And when the opening bars of Nickelback’s “If today was your last day” came on, I immediately thought “Carpe Diem”. I couldn’t wait to get home and put it all into words.

But before I could do that, I had to wrestle with the boy a little…and watch a bit of Abbey Lee’s Dance Company with my baby girl…a bit of my own seizing the day. Meanwhile, the thoughts stirred around as I tried to come up with a point.

And tomorrow was too late…

At the end of the day, none of us really know. I’ve made this point far too often – in my writing, speaking, relating, etc. We just don’t know. What if? What if that last breath you draw happens now? Right now? Have you grabbed life by the horns and lived the life you wanted to live? Oh sure, there are bumps along the way…there are bumps for all of us…heck, potholes even. But where you sit tonight, is there a regret? A tinge of doubt that maybe…just maybe you could’ve done something different…or even something better?

The chorus repeats over and over:

“If today was your last day, and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday?”

What does that mean exactly? Heck, I’m a sentimental guy and have had a challenge or two thrown my way…are there things I wish I could’ve done differently? ABSOLUTELY! But there’s a difference between being victimized by a past, and coming to grips with it to be content with the way things turned out. I can’t honestly say I have that licked yet…but then again, that’s a part of the joy in life, learning everyday how to be content with the hand I’m dealt.

The song starts with a great quote:

My best friend gave me the best advice
Each day’s a gift and not a given right.
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride…

I think that’s great advice…the song is filled with cliché – but good cliché about how to live each day as if it’s your last day.

It’s a simple strategy – but so often difficult to execute. Come to grips with your yesterdays…get to a point of contentment that it all happened for a reason…and turn your thoughts to the only “now” you’re going to get.

If it hadn’t been for Williams’ role as Professor Keating in Dead Poets’ Society, I likely never would’ve purchased a collection of Walt Whitman’s writings. I’ve seen his poem “O Captain My Captain” quoted so often in the past 24 hours, it seems a bit much to include it here…but I will include the first two lines anyway:

O Captain my Captain! Our fearful trip is done
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.

The question in my own mind, what prize is it I seek?
Make each day about that prize.
Seize every day, every moment in the name of that prize.
See nothing as failure – for in such failure lies nothing but success.
The first step may truly be the longest stride, but physics teaches us that an object in motion stays in motion…so – define your prize and get in motion.

A final note about yesterday’s tragic end to a beloved husband, father, actor, and comedian…and this is purely my opinion, as is everything I write: If Robin Williams’ death finally brings the necessary attention to depression and all its subtle ways of permeating one’s soul…and if that causes action on the part of millions worldwide to do something about it…well, in this man’s humble opinion, it will have been his greatest role yet.

Wishing peace to all of you…the peace that passes all understanding.

Tim

 

Lyrics to Nickelback’s “If Today Was Your Last Day”

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day’s a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last
Leave old pictures in the past?
Donate every dime you had, if today was your last day?
What if, what if, if today was your last day?

Against the grain should be a way of life
What’s worth the price is always worth the fight
Every second counts ’cause there’s no second try
So live like you’re never living twice
Don’t take the free ride in your own life

What if, what if, if today was your last day and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past?
Donate every dime you had?

And would you call those friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories?
Would you forgive your enemies?
And would you find that one you’re dreaming of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you’d finally fall in love if today was your last day?

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it’s never too late to shoot for the stars
Regardless of who you are

So do whatever it takes
‘Cause you can’t rewind a moment in this life
Let nothing stand in your way
‘Cause the hands of time are never on your side

If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past?
Donate every dime you had?

And would you call those friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories?
Would you forgive your enemies?
And would you find that one you’re dreaming of
Swear up and down to God above
That you’d finally fall in love
If today was your last day?

 

 

And for the video lovers: