If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know that something as simple as a song can be the final act in the word plays going on in my head. Tonight is no different.

It’s dead center of the 5 weeks I lose my daughter to her beloved summer camp. And it had been a long week without my son before we enter a good 2 week stretch together. With no kids, no tax returns, nothing on my calendar except a couple of workouts, my brain can shift into overdrive on the roads filled with reflection, worry, regret, and a whole host of unproductive pursuits.

I pushed through some of that dead time with attempting to finish some half-read books. I rekindled a couple of long-lost friendships. I worked on making a couple of new friends. I spent some time on the business plans for the coming year. And still, I found myself with a little too much time to think.

And that’s when the Goo Goo Dolls’ “Better Days” came over my YouTube feed.

And you ask me what I want this year
And I try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days.

‘Cause I don’t need boxes wrapped in strings,
In designer love and empty things…
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days.

There it was. I’m already…or WE ARE ALL already past the halfway point of a lightning-fast 2014 and I feel no further along on my goals for the year than when I set them in December. In retrospect, I know I’m a little harsh on myself. Great things filled my early months this year…but with great things, often, come added stressors. And while I thought I was ready for the reaping, I found I was ill-prepared for some of the challenges thrown in along the way. And those results tend to be that mid-term report card I wished had some better marks on it.

Funny thing is…it’s not about any one facet of life. I’m sure this doesn’t apply only to me. But whether it’s career aspirations, financial goals, parenting, friendships, the love-life (or the lack of one…ha!), or any other roles I find myself playing, the report card shows similar marks.

It’s funny really…this is nothing new. In grade school, they had these 4 boxes on all your subjects: “Strong, Satisfactory, Needs Improvement, or Unsatisfactory”. I could rack up the Strongs on the top half of the report card. But the bottom half was always about conduct. And my happy face would turn to sad when I’d see that “Needs Improvement” box checked…often with the comment “talks too much”. (I know…I can’t figure that one out either). I switched schools in 6th grade – went to a school across town. I’m thinking, “yes…fresh start…new faces…they probably don’t even have the same report cards.” The first six weeks ended and there it was again, “Needs Improvement – talks too much.” 20 licks later (and yes, brother and sister…Dad DID give ME licks too!) you’d think I’d learn. But another six weeks went by and there it was again.

In these downtimes when I don’t have much going on, it’s like looking at those report cards and realizing that, while I’ve racked up some good marks, I’ve still got that one glaring thing holding me back. And what I want…

A chance that maybe I’ll find better days.

Oh these days aren’t bad. I’m blessed beyond measure. Sure, life threw a couple of curves I never saw coming. But I have no regrets…I just wish I could find a way to yank my butt out of the rut and avoid these same old report cards.

The lyrics continue into this chorus:

So take these words and sing out loud
‘Cause everyone is forgiven now
‘Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again

There’s the truth I was looking for. Everyone’s forgiven now. Tonight…right now…whether you’re reading this in the morning, at noon, or night…RIGHT NOW it begins again. Rut eliminated. Potholes filled. Stop looking back, just press on and know that the road in front of you is all you’ve got left. Yesterdays make for funny stories told over a drink with a beloved person or group of folks, but those yesterdays don’t have a permanent bridle on your direction for the road ahead.

Do you want your better days? Are you concerned all your better days are already behind you? I’ll offer my opinion using an old golf analogy…”100% of the putts hit short never go in the hole.” That’s one of the key truths of golf. Think about it real close. You go from point A to point B and your only concern is burying this little rock-of-a-ball into the bottom of a 3” cup some distance away from point A. And…if the ball stops short of the hole, can it possibly go in? Earthquakes notwithstanding, it ain’t gonna happen. The same holds true in life…if your “better days” are the point B that you’re pushing for, then keep pushing. Take a break when you need to, sure…recharge your batteries now and then…got it…but never let life’s challenges make you think you’ve lost your chance for better days.

Below is the link for the Goo Goo Dolls’ official video of “Better Days”. I challenge you to start your day off with this one for a week. Just a week. Watch it at least once…but listen to the words before you set out on your days’ tasks. What does it feel like to know that today’s the day your world begins again?

It really can be that simple.

Try it…I dare ya.  (By the way, when you click play, it’s restricted by Warner Bros to run on blog sites…just click the “Watch on YouTube” that pops up and you’ll be redirected)

And by the way, in the rest of the lyrics, I found a couple of other jewels…if you watch the video, see if you see the flash of words like “trust”, “hope”, “faith”, and “love”:

I need someplace simple where we could live
And something only you can give
And that’s faith and trust and peace while we’re alive

And the one poor child who saved this world
And there’s 10 million more that probably could
If we’d all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words and sing out loud
‘Cause everyone is forgiven now
‘Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight
And somehow stop this endless fight
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days.

So take these words and sing out loud
‘Cause everyone is forgiven now
‘Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again

‘Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again

Here’s to better days…for you, for me…for all of us!

Peace
Tim

For those who haven’t yet seen DreamWorks’ new release “How to Train Your Dragon, Part 2” and are planning to see it, you might want to bookmark this for another day. I promise not to recant the entire story.

 

Another Father’s Day in the books, another day filled with mixed emotions on several fronts. If my relationship with my kiddos doesn’t remind me daily how far I’ve yet to come as a dad, certainly this annual “celebration” sticks out like a sore thumb. So many areas I could do better…so many moments I’ve let slip away…so many “laters” that turn into empty promises. Yes, this annual celebration kicks me in the gut on that front alone. Then, to deal with my own abandonment issues, my day turns to thoughts of my dad…and of course, my mom. But today I had a beat on it…the movie I was to take my son to yesterday fit better in the schedule today. I thought, “if nothing else, I can break the doldrums that have tended to set in the past few Fathers’ Days.”

The day started off like every other Father’s Day I’ve had the past few years…text messages…this year, starting as early as 6:45AM! Each one well received…but each one hitting that stone façade I’ve so eloquently designed from the past. Never an empty reply…but always…always a protective wall to not let my emotions get the best of me.

With my daughter out of town, it was just “me and the boy” – a boys’ weekend…we accomplished only a little short of nothing! Actually, that’s not entirely the truth. I spent a good bit of Saturday cleaning up, catching up, and prepping for the week ahead. Those that know me well know that this is a very unusual activity for me. Today, the work continued while my son played his games, watched TV, and played with the dogs. Oh sure, we’d check in every now and then…but our euphoria on some of these boys’ weekends tends to be the silence. I sat on my bicycle trainer for the last 40 laps of the NASCAR race, and had him check in with me every few minutes to make sure he was ok. Once that was over, it was time to get ready for the show.

One ICEE later, we donned our 3D glasses and shortly the movie was in full swing. For those who’ve never seen either of these two shows, the big tough Viking leader, aptly named “Stoic” has a runt of a son who, by many accounts, is also aptly named “Hiccup”. A scrawny kid – he and dad never really quite get each other. Hiccup lost his mother when he was just a baby – to a dragon attack…or so he thought. But in part 2, he happens upon this masterful dragon rider who recognizes him as her son. Not long after, dad, in pursuit of his son who had gone on a very dangerous (and unauthorized) expedition, finds Hiccup and tries rescuing him. But Stoic is set back – 20 years in fact – when he finds his long-lost wife. They reunite and begin scheming ways to bring peace back to the land.

Seeing this couple on the screen, and the childhood that Hiccup had missed coming forefront before his very eyes, was quite touching. I couldn’t stop my mind from thinking about the days I watched my parents and their love affair. Dad, whose strength was surprising to those who saw him as weakened by his physical handicap, would not necessarily be seen as stoic. But when the moment called for it, he’d go from being the cut-up of the party, to being a very stern and serious leader. Mom was every bit the sweet peace-keeper who made everything go at the house…whether it was keeping us fed, cleaned, or just overall physically well, mom did her job better than anyone I knew. And some, amazingly, would mistake her sweet demeanor – the sweetest – as a potentially weaker soul. That, anyone who knows her can attest, is the furthest from the truth. My parents…both of them…were/are amazingly strong people. They’d give you the shirt off their back and do anything to get a smile – but never, ever –did they do anything that might hurt another person.

When I think back to my teen years, I remember really, honestly, trying to do what I could to make sure I wasn’t on dad’s bad list. Life was much easier if you could just keep him happy. To say I was a people-pleaser is probably short-sighted. If anything, I just wanted to be a dad-pleaser. Ha. Mom was easier in that respect. And if she got upset, she’d just tell dad and poof, there you were again in jeopardy of getting on the bad list!

In the movie, Stoic is helping protect his son during a battle when he takes a fatal blow. That instant, my chest swelled and my eyes began to tear. I was thankful I was in 3D glasses. Stoic had been really working hard on getting Hiccup trained to take over the kingdom and Hiccup was having nothing to do with it. But there we were, in the heat of battle, and Hiccup thrust into a role he didn’t feel prepared for.

Why was I emotional? Simple. I saw it coming. I saw a replay in my mind of where I’ve allowed myself to get stuck at times. Dad passed when I was pushing my way through the late teenage years…the years where a boy turns into a man and learns how to survive. And there I was, thrust into a role I wasn’t prepared for…or so I thought.

As they send Stoic’s body away in a traditional Viking funeral, Hiccup echoed some of the very thoughts I’ve held these past 26 years. In so many ways, I’ve not lived the path that I would’ve set before me if I were doing things like Dad. Oh sure, I’ve not been a bad guy, or done evil things, but my path was rarely a straight line from point A to B. I was all over the place trying to find my way. Hiccup says to his father’s lifeless body that he’s sorry for not living up to the expectations that his dad had for him, but that he’d do his best to make him proud. I remember saying almost that very thing over my dad’s casket.

With the war raging behind him, Hiccup looks to the friends gathered ‘round…who were now looking to him for leadership, and says “A Chief protects his people.”

We are a great family…a crazy family…a funny family…but we are a protective bunch too. And nothing, in my opinion, has shone more true than that over these years. Dad may not be with us, but his protection still permeates all of us in how we treat those that are precious to us.

My dragon? Metaphorical of course. My overriding fear? I honestly think it’s a fear of not being enough. In this “prove yourself” mantra I’ve let guide me since dad’s death, I see constant reminders around me daily of where I’ve failed in some area or another. Sure, I’ve succeeded at many things. But it’s sure easier to point out failures, isn’t it? I barely escaped A&M with a degree. It took an awesome GMAT score and my awesome power of persuasion to get into a reputable MBA program. I took a job before I finished the degree (but finished the degree later), and then job-hopped a bit hoping to one day have my shot at my own business. That shot arose, I took it, and it, too, failed. I’ve gone through bankruptcy, divorce, and post-divorce dating…none of which I’m too fond of. I’ve made some great memories, sure…but there’s a whole lot of life I would’ve preferred to script another way.

But then again, this was my dragon. And were it not for me learning how to train my own emotional brain, I might still be mired in the funk that resulted in the immediate aftermath of each of these failures. That, though, was not what I learned from my parents. Dad always believed that things would work out alright…no matter what. Anything…I mean anything could happen, and he’d just be real cool…ha…kinda stoic, if you will. Mom would keep her head down and keep pushing ahead…nothing set her back. If you can’t learn how to train your own dragon from those two examples, I’d say you’d need professional help.

I won’t claim that the dragon doesn’t still rear its ugly head now and then…sure it does. But head down, push ahead, stay calm, and know everything will be alright…that’s the best way I know how to train my dragon.

The question is, have you trained yours?

Happy Father’s Day, Pops. And Mom, Happy Father’s Day to you, too. You had to assume that role without a say in the matter, and I’ve got to say, you did a hell of a job. I love you both, dearly!

It’ll all be good.

No matter what.

Tim

Weekday mornings when I was growing up, the stereo in our house on Hood Street was tuned to WBAP 820AM.  The voices of this morning talk radio station were so memorable, that I find a bit of childlike comfort when I happen by that station 30 years later to hear a couple of those voices still on air.  But one voice in particular stood out to me and millions of other listeners across this country.  When Paul Harvey came on at 7:20 AM, it marked that time in the morning when Dad would want everything quiet so he could hear.  It also meant that I better be wrapping up getting my belly full from Mom’s breakfast because as soon as Mr. Harvey would end with “Paul Harvey…Good Day!” we were on a dead sprint to get teeth brushed and butts in the car for the school commute.

In the afternoon around 5:20 PM and on Saturdays, you could hear “The Rest of the Story” – an editorial, sort of “unplugged” version of Paul Harvey where he’d get on whatever sandbox he wanted to and talk about a story in such a way that you couldn’t overlook.  His stories were always gripping and oftentimes upsetting, but always challenging – challenging the listener to think…and perhaps act differently from there forward.

After passing in 2009, Paul Harvey was resurrected in a sense when a Dodge Truck commercial edited a speech of his as a backdrop that I’ve heard replayed several times since Mr. Harvey first delivered it in 1978:  his “So God Made a Farmer” speech.  If you’ve never heard the speech in its entirety, or would like to see the slightly condensed version used in the commercial, this link has both along with the obituary written about Mr. Harvey by The New York Times (http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2013/02/paul-harveys-1978-so-god-made-a-farmer-speech/272816/)

I searched for this speech after having my mind triggered a bit from a sermon I heard last Sunday.  In Mark 14, we’re told the story of Mary (the sister, not the mother) breaking open an expensive bottle of perfume and anointing Jesus’ head with it.  This was no ordinary bottle of perfume, but one that was worth enough to garner at least a year’s wages.  It was likely imported from south Asia and some scholars believe it could’ve even been Mary’s dowry – the estate that a woman traditionally brought into a marriage.  It was also tradition to anoint a person’s head for burial (among many other traditions and sacraments that utilized anointing).  While anointing was a special thing, it was not overly rare.  One could be anointed with anything from olive oil to milk, water, perfume, or other substances.  It was rare to use an expensive perfume…and absolutely unheard of to break a bottle of the finest perfume – one that represented all a person had to give – to use in its entirety for a single anointment…but that’s just what Mary did.

It brought about a tremendous reaction against her from those around the table that night – but Christ jumped to Mary’s defense.  She had given everything she could to honor Him – as she saw His time coming to an end much like He’d been predicting all along.

The pastor made a great point at this juncture.  She looked out over us and asked what side we would’ve been on that night.  Would we defend Mary’s actions?  Or would we search to find ways to reclaim that perfume and help her try to retain at least some of that expensive perfume?  Would we ask her if she’d lost her marbles?  Would we berate her?  Would we chalk her up to a lost cause?

By now I’m sure you’re wondering where Paul Harvey’s speech about God making a farmer and this story about Mary, seemingly wasting everything she had to offer in order to anoint the head of The One who would die within a week, seem to intersect.  Bear with me only a little longer…

If you listen to Paul Harvey’s speech and read the text that was provided along with it, you’ll hear a vast number of chores of the farmer – and he certainly didn’t capture them all; but rather the extremes of the farmer’s calling.  Many of us think of farmers just harvesting their crops – but I know from the frustrations of attempting to grow a simple vegetable garden, that there’s a lot more to harvesting successfully than carrying a basket outside and plucking a few ugly tomatoes off the vine.  There’s prep work months before – there’s watering, weeding, fertilizing, and trying to come up with ways to keep the dogs from digging out the bowls completely, or keeping squirrels and other wildlife from eating my precious crops.  I’ve often romanticized and fantasized what it would be like to be “a real farmer.”  What would it be like to get up hours before dawn every day?  No thanks.  What would it be like to physically work my body to the bone day in and day out?  What would it take to put that much of life “on the line” as my everyday life?  I don’t know about you, but it sounds like more than just a daunting task.  It sounds pretty scary to me – maybe worse breaking a dowry worth more than a year’s wages and just giving it away.

But something else strikes me about this…in a way, each and every one of us is a farmer.  You’ve heard the old adage you reap what you sow.  That adage, also used frequently in the Bible, is not just about the physical act of farming, but about the offshoots of the choices we make every day in life.  If we sow bad seeds, we’re sure to reap some bad harvests along the way.  Oh sure, we’ll occasionally have highlights – likely a result of some good seeds mixed in along the way, but those are likely to be sparse if we primarily sow poorly.  I’m challenged at times sowing poorly as a parent.  Every parent reading this can nod along I’m sure…but I judge myself rather harshly for things I’ve said or done that I wish I could take back.  My simple prayer is that I can overseed that poor sowing with a better seed the next time around.

Similarly, we plant seeds sometimes on ground that is barren – with little ability to cultivate and grow into anything.  Is this a waste?  Perhaps.  Most likely, yes.  My own issues here include wasting time – whether it’s watching DVRs while crashed on the couch instead of tending to my chores around the house, or sleeping in on Sundays as opposed to using the day to get my emotional and spiritual batteries recharged, I’m certainly not planting seeds on fertile ground when I’m wasting time.

It’s pretty easy to see why we ought to focus on sowing good seed.  By a simple process of elimination, if we reap what we sow, I’m thinking it’s a pretty good idea to sow good seed.  What is that?  Simple.  Always do your best.  Walk with a smile on your face.  Look upon others with compassion.  Help a person in need.  Speak softly.  Offer a pat on the back.  Be a better listener.  Give of yourself cheerfully…with no expectation of anything in return.  Listen again to all the things Paul Harvey’s “Farmer” does every day of the week.  There is a metaphor in your own life where those extremes apply.  Find that metaphor and do those things.  Sure you won’t succeed every day…but if you’re attempting at it with your best of efforts, you will reap what you sow.

And bear this one other thing in mind…

One place the metaphor ends and reality sets in is in the harvest.  As seed-planters, we’re showing people who we are by the way we love and respect the world around us.  When we “do a good” for someone around us, we may not be around when that person’s ultimate triumph is harvested.  We may sow an awful lot of seed before we ever witness a harvest of any sort, as a matter of fact.  But trust that the harvest – your own triumph for sowing good seed – is coming.  It’s around you every day actually.  You may be harvesting the good seeds that others sowed along the way.  Be cognizant of that…be thankful for that.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I see people on social media talking about what they’re thankful for day in and day out.  That always warms my heart…in a way, that is a recognition of personal harvests for those who care to share.

For me, I’m thankful for parents who loved me unconditionally, for siblings who were great farmers in their own ways, for the siblings’ spouses who made our family better, for kids who are the perfect harvest even when the seeds I sow aren’t the best, for an employer that allows me flexibility to be a better dad, for clients who trust me and care for me as a person rather than a bean-counter, and for friends like all of you – who remind me just why…that on the 8^th day, God made us all farmers.

Good day!

Tim

Last Saturday, I arranged my schedule in such a way to free me up to see my kiddos who were staying at their mom’s place for the weekend. My son, following his big sister’s footsteps, has a renewed focus this summer to continue his path to black belt in Tae Kwon Do. He’s still probably 2 years away, but it’s good to see him get serious about something other than a video game during his summer break.

For those who haven’t read my thoughts before, I’ll take a moment to describe my handsome little 8 year old. He’s as bright as can be, very quick witted, has rarely met a stranger, a bit on the hyper side and all bundled up into a package that can wear down even the higher endurance folks out there. And one more thing, he’s also in a group of kids that are known for being “learning different”. Yep…as smart as he truly is, as sharp of a memory as he has, my son sometimes has an issue taking something from his brain to his fingers. With the hyperactivity thrown in, Tae Kwon Do, as you might imagine, can be quite the challenge.

He’s finally at the rank where, to achieve his next belt color, he must learn to spar – the equivalent of fighting with pads on. It’s not really all that violent at all, and with the protective gear, kids his age rarely get hurt at all. But it’s part of the process of becoming a higher belt rank…and so, my son has embraced it and is a bit excited about it. When I saw him Saturday, I asked how his class went. “Dad, I had to fight 3 BLACK BELTS! What were they thinking making me fight against BLACK BELTS???”

My son’s rank, as mentioned before, is still 2 years (out of a total of 3 years typically) away from black belt, so it was quite a step up for him to spar against black belts. Then again, in my own training, I recalled many occasions where the black belts would take me aside and show me some of the finer points about what to do and what not to do when sparring.

As he began to rattle on, my mind began to hone in on a teaching point. At the end of his next sentence, I asked my son if I could borrow his computer. “Sure, what do you want to look up?” We pulled up the search engine and I began to type: S-T-E-E-L S-H-A-R-P-E-N-S

He was eagerly reading over my shoulder “Steel sharpens…dad, what are you looking for?”

I hit the search and there came the quote I was looking for…

Proverbs 27:17 “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

My son read it. He looked at me with that inquisitive look on his face. The teaching moment was locked in. “What does that mean to you, son?”

“I don’t know…” he said rather nonchalantly.

“When a person sharpens a knife, do you think they use wood?”

“no”

“What about dirt?”

“uh, no”

“What about grass?”

“Dad, come on get serious…”

“Typically another piece of steel is used to help sharpen a metal blade.” (For all you folks out there that want to call into play the use of grindstones, etc., take it somewhere else…ha! You’re missing my point).

My son nodded. I continued, “See son, just as it takes steel to sharpen another piece of steel, this verse says that one person sharpens another. You were sparring with black belts to help you get better. It’s the same in anything you do – you learn from teachers who sharpen you every day at school, from friends who sometimes teach you lessons the hard way, from your parents and grandparents on all kinds of things…”

And about then, the lecture was lost…he was ready for something else.

But in that moment, I found a lesson for myself…and it is the purpose for this note.

Too often, I’ve tried to go through life with the same old dull knife…not learning from lessons of the past. Too often, I’ve let days, weeks, and months pass, with little or no progress, or even negative progress on goals I so ardently set out before me. Too often, I’ve let those little teaching moments dissipate into “shoulda beens”. Too often, I’ve found myself worn down from the comings and goings of everyday life without taking a step back and trying to learn where I might be able to sharpen myself from my experiences.

At dinner last night, I had a discussion that seemed to further that point. Too often we’re so wrapped up in the here and now, that we don’t chill out, we don’t back off…we don’t remove ourselves to try and see things from a new perspective. I’ve often written about seizing the day…grabbing life by the horns…going for the gusto…and all those sorts of great notions.

Never underestimate the power of chilling out and seeing where the lessons may be.

As steel sharpens steel…

Thank you son, for never backing down from who you are.

Thank you son, for being so willing to forgive and move on.

Thank you son, for talking your little head off…even when my eyes are about to pop out.

Thank you son, for being brave about your differences, and never letting them stand in your way.

Thank you son, for being one great piece of steel… I learn a lot from you every day.

I love you, my little man of steel!

April 14th every year weighs on me more than most any other day. Many would think it’s because, as a tax preparer, I’m ready for the season to be OVER! While true, that would be only scratching the surface.

I moved to a new house in February after renting for just over a year. After being a homeowner for 15 years, the notion of renting was a challenging experience. I conditioned my mind by saying, “I’d rather have the money in my pocket than tied up in dirt” and things of that nature. But at the end of the day, it wasn’t MY place and therefore that pride of ownership stopped and the pride of just being presentable took over. They say pride comes before the fall…I guess in some respects, I understand that a little better today.

It was amazing what taking that time off of “owning” did for and to me. It changed my approach to things. It also helped firm my grip on exactly what, and who, I want to be. I took a 50-year-old house that had been pretty-well maintained and about halfway remodeled, and through the help of a fabulous contractor and friend, I now have a place that is fully remodeled, with some of those deep rich colors I thought I’d be too nervous to try. I allowed my kids to pick the colors for their rooms. My daughter didn’t disappoint – with “Candid Blue” as her choice – the only room it matches in the entire house is…well…itself! My son…he chose a tan color because it was a power color with one of his video game heroes – this only after I nixed black as his first choice.

Yes, with Spring marching its way into 2013, I’ve watched my yard start calling for help – just as it has every year. Weeds began growing faster, the neighbor’s pecan trees shedding their buds all over the place, and leftover leaves from last fall all beckon me to break away from tax preparations and begin enjoying my new yard. I have so many plans…so many dreams of what this yard will be. But still, I find myself glued…almost in fear of the albatross in front of me. I envision a backyard full of flowers and power – my own oasis where I can sit to enjoy many a long summer evenings – teaching my kids the value of elbow grease and reaping what I sow. The task is so large, and the April 15th deadline always sets me back about 3-4 weeks into the season.

But again, this just scratches the surface…

At breakfast this morning, I reflected on a theme that seems to weigh on me often these days. With any Spring season, my “off-time” spent preparing tax returns takes me away from what I love the most…my kiddos. I have a beautiful 12-year-old daughter who seems more glued now than ever to her technology – and as nicely as she is coming along, I long for the days that seem like yesterday when she was just so much more dependent on me. She still needs me…and I know she’s still a daddy’s girl all the way – for that I’m eternally grateful.

My son…that sweet, intelligent, ADHD, and sometimes mildly unmanageable little boy…he seems to be a constant reminder of where I think I fail as a father. All he wants is a tickle, a wrestle, or some video game time, and more times than not, I respond with that infamous “later”. If my daughter can teach me anything, it’s that 4 year age difference that ought to scream to me “NOW! NOT LATER!”

Twenty-five years ago tonight, my life changed directions that bring tears to me even to this day. The measuring stick of my success as a father – my own dad, whom my son is named after, passed away. I was a nineteen year old kid…a good kid, a sweet, intelligent, ADHD, and sometimes mildly unmanageable little boy. The man who’d been the rock of our family was gone and I was thrust into manhood faster than I ever expected.

Dad was a family man…family first…every time…without fail. We spent countless hours throwing balls in the front yard or shooting baskets, or playing tricks on mom. I learned a lot – good and bad – from the best dad I’ve ever seen. I may not have learned to fish like other boys, but I learned about what matters most in life to me – my family. Those who’ve come across our family over the years agree that it’s something special. We’re fun in our own way, we love each other, we back each other up…and we still play tricks on mom…just to keep things fun.

I guess over the past 25 years, I’ve struggled with “later”. I know someday…hopefully a long way down the road, I’ll cross paths again with Dad. And all I want to hear him say is that I did a pretty good job measuring up.

One of the songs that I love to sing – but can rarely finish without breaking up a bit, came on this morning while I was in my car. I’ve probably eluded to it in other writings – and I think I identify with it because of a particular phrase in the song about not being there the morning that his father passed away. But there’s more to the lyrics than just one parallel we all eventually share. In Mike and the Mechanics’ “The Living Years”, the following chorus repeats several times:

Say it Loud, Say it Clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye.

The premise is simple. As humans, we don’t all see eye to eye. As a family, we certainly didn’t. And yet we hold each other so dear, we still figure out a way to work through those differences and move forward. We don’t sacrifice a future with the bitterness that lasts from past quarrels.

I think that applies not only to familial relationships, but to our humanity as a whole. Say what needs to be said…VALUE your differences – but don’t hold any bitterness over them.

I remember the morning my daughter was born. I was scared to death! I had no clue how to be a dad, except by the man who’d passed away 12 years before. It was a wildly emotional event to become a proud papa…and boy was I ever emotional! But some of the drama had been eliminated from childbirth, as the mother and I knew my daughter’s gender before she was born. For the next birth, we knew nothing – and wanted it that way. We’d settled on names for both sides of the equation. A girl name I can’t remember, and then my son’s name – which would be my father’s first name.

When the delivering doctor announced we had a baby boy, I burst into tears, head between my knees…absolutely sobbing. In a very powerful, pressure-packed way, I’d been given a chance to show my son what being a “Howard” was all about.

The song continues:

I wasn’t there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say…

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I’m sure I heard his echo
In my baby’s new born tears
I just wish I could’ve told him…in the Living Years.

I’ve always said if I could be half the man my dad was, I’d be alright. Maybe I saw him larger than life because I was where I was in life the moment he died…young and dumb. Then again, maybe it was all a little bit of perfection – so that I could cherish my role all these years later of being the father of two really great kids.

The reasons don’t really matter…what does matter is this…Dad, I wish I would’ve told you one more time how much I loved you. And for Scottie and Ward, I hope you know your dad loves you more than anything on the planet. I’ve said “later” a few too many times…so next time I see you both,

It’s NOW…NOT LATER!

Tim

Much will be said in regards to the meaning of love tomorrow…on many sides of the spectrum. There are a number of early Christian saints who are credited as focal points of this annual celebration. For centuries…and lots of ‘em…legend has been accepted as fact relative to this notorious and celebrated holiday.

But for the past 7-8 centuries, this annual celebration has evolved into an association with romantic love thanks to people like Geoffrey Chaucer and others. By the 1400s, the holiday had transitioned to a celebration by romantic lovers to express love for one another – by flowers, food, and greeting cards, etc. With the invention of the printing press, the 19th century saw the tradition of handwritten valentines give way to mass-produced cards.

Now the celebration of romantic love is great…for those who have it. For those who don’t, or who are missing out at the present time for any number of reasons, it can be a difficult day for certain. But this celebration wasn’t initiated as a celebration of romantic love.

(Jaw Drop)

That’s right…this certainly isn’t one of those “Hallmark Holidays” we all like to complain about. Sure…you’ll be in trouble if you don’t do something special for your sweetie, but peel back the layers a bit and get a better understanding of what this “holiday” is about.

For those who saw the title of tonight’s note and thought of the old Saturday Night Live skit “The Roxbury Guys”, sorry to disappoint. This one is about something a little different. Just as there’s more to the story about Valentine’s Day, there’s much more to our four-letter word that begins with an “L”.

The Rest of the Story

I won’t bore you with too many details but the subject I’m exploring a little deeper is the legend behind Valentine of Rome, a priest near Rome in somewhere around 270AD. At the time, the church and its followers were under tremendous persecution. Valentine’s ministry was to help Christians escape persecution and provide them simple services such as marriage, which was outlawed by the Roman Empire at that time. (Interesting side note – it is not lost on me that we have a government system in place almost 2 millennia later toiling with the same issues…and last I checked, the Roman Empire exists no longer). Anyway, Valentine wasn’t really making government officials all that happy and Roman Emperor Claudius II had him tracked down. As legend goes, Claudius interrogated Valentine himself, and was quite impressed with him. In fact, Claudius tried to convert Valentine to paganism in order to save his own life…Valentine would not relent and in fact, tried to convert Claudius to Christianity in that same interrogation. Claudius ordered Valentine’s execution, but before it was carried out, Valentine (again, according to legend) miraculously healed the daughter of his jailer Asterius. The jailer’s daughter, and his 44-member household came to believe in Jesus and were baptized.

In keeping with a tradition he’d started long ago, where Saint Valentine would cut hearts from parchment and give them to both soldiers and persecuted Christians to remind them of God’s love; Valentine, on the evening before his execution, cut out his last paper heart…addressed it to the jailer’s daughter and signed it “Your Valentine.”

This was not a romantic expression by any means. No…this was a much broader love.

A Common Misconception

I believe my brother will appreciate what I’m about to say, as it was a discussion with him one time where I came to understand a section of the Bible in a much broader sense. I will have poor recollection of the exact facts and words he used, but it has always stuck in my head that he claimed 1 Corinthians 13 (aka the “Love” chapter) was one of the most overused and misunderstood passages in the Bible.

It is often the subject of readings at weddings and quoted on many a Valentine’s Day cards. Yet, the subject behind the writing of 1 Corinthians, and especially the 13th chapter, was not related to romantic love…nope…not really.

Corinth was a melting pot of nationalities – much of the trade between Asia and Europe passed through its harbors. As such, there were even more vast perspectives of the church and how it should operate than what would normally exist in a church unaffected by such influences. These perspectives were causing divisions in the church and Paul wrote the letter to address and correct the errors to which he’d been made aware. Paul offers ways to fix these errors and does so in a way not to shame the Corinthians, but to support them.

1 Corinthians 13 was written to speak on how Christians ought to love one another, and how that love ought not just be brother to brother, but passed along to anyone whom a person might come into contact. Here is the entire text of 1 Corinthians 13 according to the New International Version:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Tying it together

Seeing it from this perspective, it is not difficult to see why this is much more than a romantic love. It is the very foundation of love that we are to have for all people. Go back to the story of the very Saint to which this holiday is attributed. Was it not this foundation to which he gave his life? He persevered…to say the least. He offered the marriage sacrament for those who thought it was important, going against the very powerful emperor who outlawed it simply because he thought married men made for weaker soldiers! Valentine of Rome lost his life for his beliefs even though he was given a chance to relent if he only chose another path. And with the stress of his pending doom certainly weighing upon him, what did he do? He gave his jailer’s daughter her eyesight, converted her 40+ member household of family members and servants, and cut out his last paper heart to remind her, as he had every soldier and persecuted Christian to whom he’d ministered before, that her God loved her with patience, kindness, and every other attribute Paul covered in 1 Corinthians 13.

That is love.

That is what Valentine’s Day is about.

Celebrate this love…express love this way…live this love and you will not fail.

And as with most things, it starts with you

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Blessings,

Tim

 

For those of you who may read this and do not celebrate Christmas, please take no offense to the title of this note.  If you celebrate any type of gift-giving/receiving holiday, I hope you find parallels in this writing.

Ask any child and they can typically rattle off any number of things they’d like for Christmas.  This year, my own son wised up a bit…he realized that his list of 40+ items last year was only partially fulfilled…and significantly lighter than the fulfillment he’d probably wanted.  This year, he got focused.  He only asked for 2 things.  Trying to get more ideas out of him was fruitless.  The boy got smarter…too fast, too.  As we age, we get our sites a little more focused in like that.  There’s just one thing we’d really like.

But somewhere along the way, we stop wanting things any more.  Those who have children learn to “experience” the holiday as a fulfillment of happiness through the reflections on their children’s faces when they open that long-desired toy.  Our perspectives change…and the season sometimes changes with it.

Years ago, I learned it was fruitless to ask mom what she wanted for Christmas.  “Oh, I just want everybody to be happy…and world peace, maybe…”  In a family that buys gifts for everybody, mom was IMPOSSIBLE!  Yet here I sit today, and I’ve become my mother.

If you ask me right this minute what I want…the only answer I could come up with would be ethereal concepts such as Peace, Love, Joy, Happiness, Laughter, etc.  Is it because I have everything?  Certainly not.  I’ve learned that everything is not equivalent to every-THING.  The old song “Can’t buy me love” pops to mind.  We can’t buy peace, love, joy, happiness, laughter and all the rest of those conceptual things.  Why?

Life.

Go with me on this a minute.

I sit here in my mid-40s in a 30-day stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas and sometimes wonder how all this happened.  Thanksgiving always reminds me back when I was around 16-17 and my dad had just made it home from a stay in intensive care for congestive heart failure.  It was a very emotional holiday and one whose memory won’t easily go away.  And frankly, when I set out to be a family man, it wasn’t necessarily on my agenda to be a single dad watching my kids go to and fro half the time.  The holidays are a time when I can really get down on myself for the way “life” turned out.

And I’m not the only one who struggles during the holidays.  Those who have lost loved ones typically have difficulty during the holidays.  There are more these days who have trouble making ends meet during the year, much less during the holidays when gifts can run a credit card bill through the roof.  The stress of shopping…trying to find that perfect gift for people who claim to want nothing…that stress causes some people to bring out their worst.  Am I hitting a chord?

Peace?  I used to define it as no more war…now I define it as no more cat fights between my kids.  Joy?  It no longer comes wrapped in a box with a bow on top but instead, comes in realizing the aforementioned peace.  Happiness and laughter are a byproduct of choosing to treat the holiday without all the stress that naturally ensues this time of year.  Love, for me, is embracing all those God has placed in my life – family, children, friends, pets, etc. – and being very thankful for that alone.

But in a time where we hear about missile tests in other parts of the world, conflict in the Middle East, fiscal cliffs and economic woes both here and abroad…I tell you, it’s darn hard to find peace.  And that’s where an interesting sermon I heard this past Sunday came into play for me.

Throughout Facebook and other social media, I regularly see Jeremiah 29:11 quoted:  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  This verse is plastered as the mantra for so many of my positive and positive-seeking friends.  The sermon I heard this past Sunday focused on the verses just before this – in verses 4-7.  “This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon:  “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce.  Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters.  Increase in number there; do not decrease.  Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile.  Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”

That’s an interesting perspective to that oft-used verse 11, don’t you think?  The nuts and bolts is this…the Israelites were exiled from Jerusalem, their Promised Land, to Babylon under King Nebuchadnezzar (who had a heck of a nasty reputation).  In their minds, they were completely doomed.  In verse 10 we learn that the plan is for the Israelites to hang here for 70 years.  Trust me folks, this wasn’t the kind of news they were looking for.  They wanted to get back home and pronto!  But here was God telling them to sit and stay a spell.  Settle in.  Assimilate to the discomfort of your new environment…in fact, thrive in what is uncomfortable.  I’ll get you back to the Promised Land later – like, maybe when you’re grandchildren are grandparents.  That’s a tough pill to swallow.  But, to get to the “plans to prosper you and not to harm you…to give you hope and a future,” this was a necessity.

The parallel to the Christmas holiday to me is very real in those words.  Thanksgiving has been a bit gloomy for me for a long time.  Christmas has been tough for several years now as well.  I can choose to be defeated by those feelings, or I can plant new gardens and eat the fruit from those gardens.  Weird?  Nah…think about it.  Try new things.  Be excited for the looks on peoples’ faces.  Smile.  I mean it SMILE…A LOT!  Walk around smiling…almost freakishly…I promise you, it’ll kinda freak people out!

It’s not easy…this season is never easy for most folks…but you are the only one who can choose to make it easier.  Don’t worry about making it the perfect Christmas.  People will love you just the same.  Make it perfect for you.

Finally, I want to lift up prayers tonight for family and friends who are dealing with scary situations.  I have an aunt who had a bit of a scare but made it through surgery swimmingly.  And I have a friend whose mother has been diagnosed with a terminal illness.  There are others struggling and hurting as well…with the best smile I can put on, I want to lift all those folks up and just let them know I’m thinking about them.

Blessings,

Tim

 

If I had it to do over again…

Ever muttered those words?  I can’t tell you how often I’ve said something along those lines.  Given the chance to do things differently…

We’ve all had plenty of times in life to reflect…to wonder what might’ve been if only a few things in our pasts were a bit different.  As a divorced dad of two youngsters, I can assure you I spent many a thoughts on the notion that if I could trade everything but those two precious kiddos, I’d do it.  An old Anna Nalick song said it pretty simply – “No one can find the rewind button”.  Life simply has no rewind button.

Enter the old adage…live and learn.

Live…and learn.

You know, I’ve gotta interrupt my thought for a moment and share a quick story.  After literally years of writing…periods of vast productivity followed by even longer dry spells, I sat down with my family a season or two ago and my sweet sister flattered me with a compliment about my recent writings.  In the process, she contrasted that my current thoughts seemed so much brighter than the darker days of my early writings.  I remember being completely puzzled by that summation.  I’ve gone back and reread some of those old notes and honestly scratch my head sometimes.  But then again, there were things going on in my life that only family was privy to, so perhaps those writings had a different shadow cast than what others read.  I’m not sure…but I bring that story up to say this…I realize the first 5 lines of this note will undoubtedly cause some to wonder whether this is a down-tone note…it’s not.  Just hang with me…

I remember during my lowest lows, a close friend said to me, “Congratulations…you’re living.”  I thought it cynical.  I thought it grim.  I thought it crazy.  Turns out, it was more truth than any of those.  Learning is living.  Whether we’re in a school desk, or recovering from a broken heart, or anything else…we learn every day.  And with that, we broaden our experience to enrich our lives for the future.  Why else would it be so easy to wonder how things might be if we could do them over again?  It’s because we’re smarter now than we were “then” – as if “then” was some awfully dark place in our lives.

The fact of the matter is simply this…we get the chance every day to live.  We also have the opportunity every day to reflect on the passing of our lives.  What did we get right?  What could we do better?  What…if the opportunity ever comes this way again…EXACTLY WHAT would I do differently?

Why that exercise?

Simple…inevitably that time comes back around.  It may be disguised…it may come in a form we never imagined…but it comes back around.  And when it does…you have your chance to do it – and to do it “right” this time.

I watched a pretty good football game last night as my alma mater upended the number 1 team in the country on that team’s home field.  There was endless chatter the week before the game about how one team’s football coach was the master at preparing his team.  The week before, the team had faced what many thought would be its toughest test of the season and, down less than a touchdown with 90 seconds to go in a really tough place to be the visiting team, the entire sideline of that team had a sense they’d win…they knew somehow they’d pull it out.  Further, this aura was such that even the fans in that stadium had a change of energy that they expected their hometown favorites would lose the game as well.  And as the story played out…everybody was right.  The miracle happened and the visiting favorites pulled out a victory.  It hammered home at a point I’ve often thought about.  This coach had his team always thinking about the end…the goal…the victory.  They visualized victory.

Steven Covey’s infamous “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” had an interesting thought that I’ve often tried to remind myself of: “Begin with the end in mind.”  If you want to win, define what it is exactly that you want to win…and then align your steps with that ultimate goal.

Is it possible that’s why we teach our kids all the dos and don’ts?  Are we, in some dreamy utopia, trying to shortcut that trial and error for our kids so they don’t have to experience some of our very own “agony of defeat”?  The dos and don’ts can sometimes lead to parental nagging and “I told you so” mentality.  Trust me, I used the latter earlier today on my sweet daughter.  I’m not perfect at any of this, but just as my kiddos need to know this, so do I – it’s all a part of living and learning.

In the midst of all these thoughts swirling in my mind, I also began wondering exactly why we’d spend that kind of time redefining our “if I had to do it over agains”.  The Covey stuff was bouncing around in my head along with some of these other thoughts, when I was reminded of a very frequently quoted verse from the New Testament book of Revelation.  Chapter 22, verse 13 reads, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.”  There it was… “the Beginning and the End.”

If learning is living, then to me, living isn’t limited to our endings but to our beginnings as well.  Confused?  Let me put it another way.  I have no regrets with my past.  I have hope for my future which I define as everything beyond the instant I type the period on the end of this sentence.  It is all a part of living.  It is all a part of learning.  At the end of the day, this life isn’t really mine – it’s the property of whatever was responsible for putting me here in the first place.  If God really is the Alpha and the Omega, then my responsibility is to get the most out of this life that I can.  That means beginning with the end in mind…in everything.

In everything, live…and learn.

This applies to everything imaginable.  It applies to your health, your liberties, your family life, your relationships, your finances…you name it…it applies.  It doesn’t matter how you get there – it matters that you take your responsibility seriously and live this life you’ve been given with the end in mind.  When the dust settles, how would you like to look back and remember these times?  That, to me, is beginning with the end in mind.

I was recently blessed to see a band called “The Script” perform in Dallas.  I’d not heard of their music even though I was assured that I had.  Nevertheless, the day of the concert rolled around and I decided I ought to preview some songs on YouTube just to get familiar with what I’d be hearing later that evening.  By the way, if you haven’t had the chance to listen to this band, do it.  Much of their music is what I loosely call “relationship” music.  It’s about broken hearts, and fixing bad breakups, and taking back things that shouldn’t have been said, etc.  But one song really stood out to me…possibly because of the video, but also because this is what I hope I’m living while I’m beginning with the end in mind.  And more importantly, it’s the message I hope I’m bestowing in my children…that any of us can be standing in the hall of fame.

For me personally, the only hall of fame I ever hope to be standing in is the one for great, fun-loving dads who live out John 15:13 on a daily basis, who are respected by those who knew him, who seized the best of every day and rolled along even when the worst looked to get him down.

I want to be standing in the hall of fame for people who lived…and learned.

God bless,

Tim

Lyrics from “Hall of Fame” as performed by The Script (featuring will.i.am)

YouTube video located at (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk48xRzuNvA&feature=bf_prev&list=TLesG3gYrwERs&shuffle=324786)

Yeah, You could be the greatest

You can be the best

You can be the King Kong banging on your chest

 

You could beat the world

You could beat the war

You could talk to God, go banging on his door

 

You can throw your hands up

You can be the clock

You can move a mountain

You can break rocks

You can be a master

Don’t wait for luck

Dedicate yourself and you can find yourself

 

Standing in the hall of fame

And the world’s gonna know your name

Cause you burn with the brightest flame

And the world’s gonna know your name

And you’ll be on the walls of the hall of fame

 

You could go the distance

You could run the mile

You could walk straight through hell with a smile

 

You could be the hero

You could get the gold

Breaking all the records that thought never could be broke

 

Do it for your people

Do it for your pride

Never gonna know if you never even try

 

Do it for your country

Do it for your name

Cause there’s gonna be a day

 

When you’re, standing in the hall of fame

And the world’s gonna know your name

Cause you burn with the brightest flame

And the world’s gonna know your name

And you’ll be on the walls of the hall of fame

 

Be a champion, Be a champion, Be a champion, Be a champion

 

On the walls of the hall of fame

 

Be students

Be teachers

Be politicians

Be preachers

 

Be believers

Be leaders

Be astronauts

Be champions

Be true seekers

 

Be students

Be teachers

Be politicians

Be preachers

 

Be believers

Be leaders

Be astronauts

Be champions

 

Standing in the hall of fame

And the world’s gonna know your name

Cause you burn with the brightest flame

And the world’s gonna know your name

And you’ll be on the walls of the hall of fame

 

(You can be a champion)

You could be the greatest

(You can be a champion)

You can be the best

(You can be a champion)

You can be the King Kong banging on your chest

 

 

(You can be a champion)

You could beat the world

(You can be a champion)

You could beat the war

(You can be a champion)

You could talk to God, go banging on his door

 

(You can be a champion)

You can throw your hands up

(You can be a champion)

You can be the clock

(You can be a champion)

You can move a mountain

(You can be a champion)

You can break rocks

 

(You can be a champion)

You can be a master

(You can be a champion)

Don’t wait for luck

(You can be a champion)

Dedicate yourself and you can find yourself

(You can be a champion)

 

Standing in the hall of fame

 

Zig Ziglar is quoted as saying, “If you aim at nothing, you will hit it every time.”

It’d been almost 3 months since I passed through the doors at my church…and, well, amazingly, I find every time I do, it’s as if the message had been specifically tailored to something going on for me RIGHT NOW!  Fortunately, today was no epiphany really…but rather an underscore and exclamation point to the things I’ve been experiencing in my own life in recent months.

I’ve written before about having a vision, about seizing all the “now” moments you can, about being thankful, about believing in yourself…but today was an interesting element I’d never considered.

How much faith is enough?

If I’m a person who is believing in something, whether it is God, myself, or whatever…if I’m believing in something, just how much faith do I need?  If I commit to a direction in life – what measure of belief will it take to achieve that dream?  For those who pray, just how much prayer does it take for it to be relevant…for it to matter enough so that God can work with it?

Many who know me will readily support the notion that I’m a bit of a dreamer.  My bucket runs over with that list of things I want to accomplish.  But one thing I’d never really understood was why some of those dreams didn’t pan out.  Heck…I had more dreams to accomplish, so those that I missed out on were just “character builders” for all I knew.  Reflecting on it a bit more thoroughly, it became very clear to me that those dreams where I’d failed, I’d really not believed in them in the first place.  And on the other side, those where I’d had any level of success, that measure of success was essentially proportionate to the level of faith I’d had that it’d happen.

The minister, Jay Utley grabbed my attention in his first three words… “Coveting Luke’s Faith”.  I fumbled through my notes from the last sermon, and through the note-card I’d been given walking in.  We were studying the book of Mark, not Luke.  Maybe they were taking a week off in this series to get another point across.  But no, the story continued.  Jay quoted a few lines from Dana Tierney’s New York Times’ article about her own son, Luke (found at http://www.nytimes.com/2004/01/11/magazine/lives-coveting-luke-s-faith.html).  The story ends with a snippet of the passage we were studying today and it’s that passage that seemed to shoot that arrow directly into my heart – that this was why I was here today.

For those who care to read the passage, Mark 9:14-29 tells the story of a man with a demon-possessed son who’d been afflicted his entire life.  The man had tried his son’s entire life to find anyone who could cure him.  The plight of every parent – to make the best life possible for their children – was the underlying drumbeat to this lesson on faith.  Included on that path was a run-in with Jesus and His disciples.  This young father brought his son to the disciples in hopes they could do something for him.  While they tried unsuccessfully to rid the boy of his demons, Jesus approached to see about the ensuing ruckus.  The father appeared, explained what was going on, and as soon as the boy saw Jesus, this evil spirit inside him threw the boy to the ground in a convulsion and began tossing the boy around.  Jesus asked the man how long this had been going on and the man replied that it had been going on since childhood.  Then in verse 22, the man said, “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him.  But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

It’s funny, two thousand years later, the man’s words stood out as I read them… “If you can…”

Can you imagine saying something that silly to Jesus?  Honestly…if I look myself squarely in the eye, I am probably right there beside that guy.  I’d say it too.  And what was the response?

“If you can?” (I believe in an almost mocking tone…)  Jesus continued with words I hang my hat on every day:

“Everything is possible for him who believes.”

Let that sink in…read it again if you need to…but let it really sink in…

Everything…anything and everything…is possible to anyone who believes…

The story really hit me in the heart because of a parallel in my own life.  While my son is certainly not demon-possessed, he is by some definitions a bit different.  He’s a smart, brilliant, quick-witted, dinosaur-loving funny-man that, at the age of 7, is perfecting the art of timing with his jokes.  But according to the world’s definition of “normal”, he’s not.  Normal, that is.  He’s challenged because of the way his brain works to make connections.  Things don’t always flow from his brain to his hands the way they do with others.  You wouldn’t necessarily know it by seeing him or talking to him…there are no real signs of anything “wrong” – he just doesn’t measure up by the way standardized tests would grade him.  And that has been a challenge to my own faith since our family first figured it out.

Jay said today that “doubt is an inescapable part of the human condition.”  He continued that “as long as you have faith, you will have doubt…they are two sides of the same coin.”  It makes perfect sense.  There is no canyon between faith and doubt.  Just as there’s a fine line between love and hate, the difference between faith and doubt is a razor-thin edge.

When I finally let go of worrying about things related to my son and, instead, believed that he was on the right path to growing into himself, my approach to him and his process changed.  I believe that he also started believing that he was finally on the right path – however adolescent children assimilate that in their brains.  He’s settled in and comfortable with his routine, his friends, his school, and at home.  His ability to have faith in himself will be, as it is for all of us, the strongest attribute he could have in his bag of tricks.

As that story in Mark continued, the young father immediately exclaimed back to Jesus, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”  Jesus turned to the boy and rebuked the evil spirit and, long story short, everything turned out as any parent would hope.

How much faith did it take?  The boy’s father really didn’t appear to have all that much.  Remember… “if you can…”  It doesn’t take much, friends.  In Matthew 17:20, one of my favorite verses to quote, it says, “…I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘move from here to there’ and it will move.  NOTHING will be impossible for you.”

Nothing?  Yes…NOTHING!

James 4:2 says, “You want something but don’t get it.  You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want.  You quarrel and fight.  You do not have, because you do not ask God.”

There’s the answer…how much faith is enough?  Simple…all you need to do is ask.  You can be like the desperate father…the father who believed that even Jesus couldn’t help.  Just ask.  Jay ended with a line very similar to the Ziglar quote above… “the only prayer God can’t answer is the one never asked.”

Just ask.

Blessings,

Tim