Grand Father

A happy Father's Day can be achieved just by knowing that my kids are all well and well aware of how much they are loved. That being the case, I am a happy father this Father's Day.

Being a dad has been--and remains--the greatest joy in my life. It is how I have learned how much my Father in heaven loves me. It matters not to Him whether I am feeling great and glorious or down and desperate, His love for me isn't dependent on ME. It's who He is. His love for me doesn't hinge on me at all. He loves me because He is my dad. There's nothing I can do to make Him love me more and there's nothing I can do to make Him love me less.

For the record, that makes me feel grand and glorious!

While I haven't done an ounce of research on the subject, I doubt that there is anyone who doesn't believe in conscience. Or at least some form of inner compass. Even so-called savage peoples have a degree of ethical behavior. There are some things they just won't do for fear of losing their lives. I would dare say that there are espousing Atheists who believe whole-heartedly in such a notion. They will tell you that it is their conscience which guides them in their choices, not God. Which I find to be ironic since it holds up to none of the empirical evidence they seem to need in order to believe in God. You can't touch it, see it, talk to it, dismantle it or point to its molecular structure or a mountain of data to prove it. Has anyone ever held a conscience in their hands? No. You just 'know' it exists inside you. I guess you could say it takes faith. And if there is a God then the world would not be so evil. To them I would ask this question then: "If conscience exists then why is the world so evil?"

The answer is quite simple, actually. You can't impose your conscience upon (or inside) another. People will either ignore their conscience or override it through rationalization. I think that makes perfect sense. People with God in their heart do the same thing all the time. You cannot impose God on another soul, you can, however, love them and point them in God's direction. I don't do that often enough. And that, my friends, is why the world is so evil.

I know that ignorance is not bliss, but I also know that knowledge is not power. It seems the more I know about how broken the world is, the more ignorant I wish I was. When I was young I think I thought the world in the future was going to be much better than it was then. I say 'I think I thought'  because I really don't remember. Maybe it was just a deep, deep wish. You know, the kind of thing you carry almost naturally with you as a child. You don't know you're wishing it or thinking it, but you are, most likely.

On Average

There is no such thing as an average person any more than there is such a thing as an average cloud. Every person is as constantly in flux as a cloud. There is no way every one of us can be studied and measured at every moment of every day. An average is a number that corresponds to a statistical reality, not a person...or a cloud. The average is affixed to the highest number of people that fall into a certain percentile. For example: no one has 2.6 children yet that is what the average American family is said to have. Some have 4, some have 3, some have 2, but when you do the math the average comes in at 2.6.

So? What point am I trying to make? I guess I am, at times, struck with how the world seems to want to make me average. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not one of those Rah Rah " I'm spectacular" self esteem guys. I don't get my esteem from me. My esteem was given to me when the Son of God said I was good enough to die for and then proved it by dying. Any 'self-esteem' is almost laughable given that fact. No, the point I am (with much effort) trying to make is this: we are, none of us, average. We are not even faintly the same as each other. Oh sure, we have similarities, but sameness and similarity are nowhere near synonymous. I am not close to average and neither are you and that is what makes life marvelously, interestingly difficult, challenging and captivating.

The case for more creative speech

Whatever happened to decency? Lately I have just become more and more tired of vulgar language. Where I work it's always sort of been a given. It's kind of a 'man's world' workplace so it's to be expected. But why? How did it become expected? Where's our restraint?

I grew up in a 'G' rated world and, quite frankly, I miss it. I heard my dad swear once (in his native Frisian, but I knew he was swearing just by the context of his demeanor). It was such a big deal that I can remember to this day, the whole circumstance clearly. Once. That was the only time I ever heard my dad curse and I am glad of that fact.

I'm sure it makes me sound old, but I don't care. I think it takes more of a man to find creative ways to communicate his thoughts and feelings than to merely spout off obscenities. (Note: they are still called obscenities. Why then, are they so easily spewed?) Don't get me wrong. I am not offended by most swearing, nor am I a prude, I'm just sick of it. I don't want my mom walking around, hearing 'R' rated language at every turn. I think she deserves a better world than that. I realize that most people are just too lazy to think of a new, different way to say something so they use the old, tired standby by default. I think it's indicative of the larger societal problem called: lack of consideration for others.

So, rather than just spout off my distaste without offering a solution, I'm going to offer some of the alternate 'swear words' that I use from time to time. If for no other reason than to let you know (once again) how strange I am, here are few choice morsels:

Stink puppet!
Dinglecheese! (insulting, no?)
Finkbeiner!
Skunk Pirate Jones!
Dorkberry!

What are we doing here?

Since the shootings at the school in Connecticut I've been thinking about the conversations I've heard about how such a thing could happen. Some people say guns don't kill people, people kill people. Some people say it's strictly a matter of getting guns out of the hands of the mentally ill. I am not anti-gun, I think it is both guns AND people that kill people.Unless we uninvent the gun, people are going to get killed by guns. Some would argue that we simply need more capability to help the mentally ill, which I can't argue with, but at what cost? And by that I mean, how many who have been diagnosed with 'a disorder' will suddenly be branded 'mentally ill'? It seems there are more disorders than there are people these days, so who gets to decide who is next in line for help? Won't there still be cracks for people to fall through?

I would argue that it is neither a guns issue nor a mental illness issue. It isn't something that we can eradicate with laws or an overhaul of our mental health system. It goes much deeper than that. I believe it is a condition called 'evil'. In some circles it might be called the depravity of mankind. We are evil. Yes, that said WE. While it's easy to point our finger at the violent acts around us and argue that surely we aren't THAT evil. I agree that most of us don't act in what's known in an evil way, but I'm talking about evil as an overarching behavior. For example: I saw a man walking down the street on Christmas Day with a ragged backpack on his back and what I suppose was supposed to be his sleeping bag in his hand and I thought to myself  'wow, how awful must it be to be homeless on Christmas Day'...and continued to drive home to my warm house. Not an ACT of evil, but evil, nonetheless. We tend to think of evil as if it's at the far end of the man made scale of  'badness'. Which one of us doesn't have leftovers in the fridge that will likely be tossed out soon while a large portion of our world starves to death? Evil? I think so. Perhaps the worst evil we do is to ourselves when we let the callous on our heart thicken and deaden our compassion for others. I am doing it right now by using 'we' instead of 'I'.

My point is this: We will not stop evil unless we are aware of it in our own lives and then strive, with the help of God, to use the heart He gave us to act kindly toward each other. We can't change the whole world, at least not in one fell swoop, but we can change to the point where our circle of influence is changed and each person's circle of influence touches someone else's circle and so on. Kindness comes from love. That is why, I believe, God tells us to love one another. It's the most important, most challenging thing there is. And while it won't reverse the depravity of man, it might just slow the swing the pendulum seems to be on.

There are times when I have to challenge myself to overcome my sense of complacency. Is complacency a sense or a chosen state of being? Who knows. What I do know is that it isn't a good place for me.

My daughter and her husband live in Texas now and my sons are off at college clear across the state. While I didn't think it was possible, I am in a whole new level of alone. Now, lest you think I'm telling you this for sympathy, I must clarify that I am not. I'm am merely stating it as a matter of fact. Until everyone was gone there was always a chance that some level of interaction beyond a phone call or text message was possible. We'd meet for dinner, they would stop by to hang out, you know, sort of normal living. When they left, the possibility left. I must admit, I thought I was going to be okay with it. After all, I've been alone for 14 years. It is what I've done. But now I'm an empty nester. Not an empty nester, mind you, with someone staring at me from across the table asking, "who are you?", but one who has to ask the question of myself. And I'm not okay with that, because I can tell myself to shut up without much repercussion. This is where the complacency comes in. I can either do the hard work of answering the question or I can just see where this new level of alone leads me. I'm not sure I have the energy or endurance for either.

Maybe the first step outside of complacency is to sit here and write about it. Maybe.

Maybe This, Maybe That.

Having not written in a long while makes it difficult to know where to begin again. I guess the best thing to do is ask myself why it is that I am sitting down to write. Something must be up. Something must be stirring. There must be a reason I've prompted myself to finally try to recognize and organize my thoughts in a way that makes sense.

Maybe it's this: My youngest son just graduated from high school and will be heading off to college in approximately sixty-two days. That could be it. I mean, that's a pretty momentous occurrence. It means I'll be an 'empty nester'. Ha! That makes me laugh. I've been an empty nester for nearly fourteen years now. Well, not really. Real empty nesters have the advantage of another viewpoint, which, while it might not be seen as an ally, it really is. I have the mirror and my own words and thoughts, and, sadly, only the mirror is really accurate.Getting to spend time with my boy kept me fine-tuned even though it was only  for a few hours a week. The old adage that iron sharpens iron rings true. Our Tuesday nights at Taco Time in the second booth by the window, talking about myriad of subjects, ranging from politics to humor to how to be kind to his brother, will likely just be slid into the closet marked 'things we used to do'. And that's okay. Closets are made for storing things like that. It beats throwing them away. Maybe what's stirring is my fear and/or trepidation on what to do with this new level of aloneness.

Or maybe it's this: I got my first check in fourteen years that had a big zero under 'other deductions' (read: child support)! In the divorce decree I was entitled to pay until my last child graduated from high school. Now, while I'm not complaining, I must say that I've suddenly found myself thinking about spending money in a new way. I'm not sure I like that. I have the possibility of retiring in a little more than two years and this money could make it so that I could erase the word 'possibility' and put in it's place 'probability' if I do it right. But what does right look like? There are some strange ironies in it all. Now that I can afford new furniture, the people I would have done it for (my kids) won't be around to enjoy it. All the house-fixings that were back burner can be front burner now. But what for? I know, I know, for me. I'm not big on spending money on me. I grew up in a family that was austere before the world ever heard of the word. I'm not cheap, I'm frugal. And a couple of my brothers would laugh openly if they heard me say that because compared to them I'm wasteful. My point is this: I'm not going to spend more money just because I can. I want to be smart and responsible with it. I realize that its a nice problem to have, but it is, nonetheless, a problem.

Or perhaps it's this: My friends all know because they've heard me say, "I'll start dating more when the kids are all gone".  My friends are good people, but it seems like they're chomping at the bit to set me up with a friend of a friend of a friend. I know they mean well, but I'm not a fan of being set up. I have eyes of my own, and they work just fine. I know a pretty girl when I see one. (If you're a woman and reading this remember that it's very attractive that you be yourself--not what you think we want--authenticity is an aspect of beauty that is not discounted. You needn't be 'all that', you only need to be YOU.)   What's pretty to me might not be pretty to another. I think that's understood. What's not understood, at least by those doing the setting up, is that when you set two people up it's as if you've set up a judge and jury box and the participants are on the clock. I would love it if after being set up on a date as such, the person doing the setting up would simply ask, "did you meet?" and not ask for a verdict. Why is that not enough? What if I thought she was adorable but couldn't get past the fact that her name was Hazel and it always made me laugh when I thought of a TV show in the 60's. What if I thought she was sweet and kind and smart and I might call her again...sometime. Then what? Why can't the set-up be considered like any other gift? You give it in the hope that it is something the person wanted, needed or at least enjoyed for a moment.

Having not written in a long while makes it difficult to know where to begin, but it still seems obvious where to end. And this was that.

While this isn't how I feel today, it was how I felt on at least one particular day. I found this in a little notebook that I write in once in awhile. I'm wondering if I should name this notebook~ 'Not quite country songs'...

Why can't I turn off my brain

and be stupidly, blissfully happy?

Why can't I just drain off the pain

and sing a song all sappy?

The clouds keep rollin' in

The sky keeps not turnin' blue

I can keep on bein' somethin' else

But never somethin' new.

...or maybe I'll just leave it alone. After all, things left alone have a tendency to turn into something else.

A Leg Up

I'm not sure how many legs it has, but February is definitely on its last one. I woke this morning to a strange invasion of light through the slats of my mini-blinds. When I finally mustered the wherewithal to drag my self out of bed, I peered through ever so carefully so as to ease the shock on my sleepy eyes, there, to my delight, was a double whammy surprise awaiting my eyes. Not only was the sun clocked in and on shift, but a light blanket--no, more like a throw--of snow had fallen asleep in my grass.

It may be its last leg, but is has enough left in it to go out in style.

Morning Missed

As I sit here this foggy October morning, missing my children, I wonder what it is that makes me miss them. To say that it's my love for them is the simple answer, but what is it that makes me want them to be right here, right now? With the passage of time--and many hours to myself--I have come to wonder about this over and over. To say that I've come to a conclusion assumes that I am done wondering about it, so rather than conclude I shall just say that I have come to an answer that suits me for the moment.

Parenting is a many-staged role. You start out as THE caretaker of every facet of your baby's life and then gradually phase into a teacher, an encourager, a coach, a back-up, and then if you've done it right, a friend. Parenting is the most difficult role in the world because you take that little lump of love from the point of being completely helpless to the point where they should absolutely not need you at all. At least not more than they need other healthy relationships. This is a very difficult thing to do. And as the dad in a divorce situation my time with my kids was segmented, regulated, and condensed, at best. I either had all three of them or none of them. There was very little one on one time with any of them so the phases of parenting snuck up on me and ran over my abilities at times. Now, I am not excusing myself, rather I am stating it as something that is true--whatever the reason.

So, all this to say, I miss my kids because they are my friends. I want to know what each one of them dreamed, feared, laughed at, thought about, ran away from, inched toward, remembered, or forgot. I want to hear that they tried something new or heard an old song that jogged a memory loose. And then I want to tell them about my insides and how much fun it is just to know them. I want to do nothing together and enjoy it...like only friends can.

The fog is clearing.

Some Sunday morning thoughts to throw out to the internets:

-Love, if not communicated, is merely assumption or a remembrance of the last time it was communicated.

-Much of life is spent reconciling the space between what I thought I wanted and what I got instead.

-If my heart could walk it would have a noticeable limp.

-The grass is always greenest where it's watered.

-Weeds work hard to grow their flowers, too.

-In this world of high-tech gadgetry there are so many ways to communicate and that's great, but I miss the good ole days of voice-to-ear communication. When was the last time you could tell how your friend was by their tone and body language? Silence is less uncomfortable when you're in the same room, sometimes.

-Healing is not a feeling.

-I think it's sad that atheists probably think about God more than believers do.

-Coffee is best when you don't think of it as bean juice.

Okay, now my brain is empty. I got everything out and now I got nothin'.

An excerpt of thoughts

(I found this entry in the drafts of my blog. I don't know why I never put it out there, but here it is.)

No one ever tries to stop you from being happy, yet try to be sad and you'll get mauled by people telling you to cheer up. What if sadness is the truest, most real emotion you know at the moment? Is it any less valid than happiness? It's an emotion. As is happiness. It's not truth, it's merely a passing state of being. Or is it?

Thirteen years ago I watched my three children drive down the street away from me in a U-Haul and the sadness that struck me was real and full and deep. I knew from that day forward I wouldn't get to be with them on a daily basis ever again. You tell me I should just move forward, which I do, but everywhere in front of me is the vacuum created by the reality of their absence. I shattered into a million little pieces that day and admittedly that shattering caused me not to parent them as proactively as I could have. And that admission only adds to my grief.

I saw a picture of them on the Facebook site of a former babysitter of theirs. They were all sitting on 'our' couch at their new home just a few days after the departure. I had never seen the picture before, but it gave me a glimpse of them through a different lens. It saddened me that I couldn't be there in the picture with them. Time is the currency of life, not money, and it is time that was taken from us. One of the deepest sadnesses that I have noticed is that the time I gain can never make up for the time that was lost.

Deep Blue

Ahhhhh.

For the first time in a long time the sun is peering through the slats of my mini-blinds. For many weeks now the depth of the sky has been covered in clouds. Literally. I heard a statement on the radio this week that said in our neck of the woods the temperature has been above eighty degrees for...wait for it...a total of seventy-two hours...this YEAR!! That streak will continue today as the high is supposed to be seventy-something, but it will be a crystal clear day!

I must admit that at times I am a situationally joyful person. This morning is one of those times. I have an abiding joy in my soul that was given to me by Christ that is stored somewhere in the deep and is always there. My soul mirrors the sky, I suppose, because for so long the cloud cover has caused the sky to seem shallow and colorless. Gray. That shade of indecision between light and dark. However, today, when I look up through the place where the clouds are no more I can see how deep the sky is and the mirror shines light down deep into my soul.