Can you do it?

So, how are you doing?  If all goes right, as you read this I will be “resting”, or on “vacation”.  The truth is that I don’t really know how to do that.  My father was a man who didn’t know how to relax.  As I put the pieces together over the years as I have heard stories I now understand that work was my father’s “drug” of choice.  He could outwork anyone and always felt like it wasn’t enough.

As we celebrate Independence Day, I remember distinctly a day where I woke up late in the morning and couldn’t figure out why.  I suspect I was around 9 or 10 years old.  It was a bright, summer sun shiny day and I had not been awakened at the crack of dawn to go out to the garden or do some sort of work that was always waiting on me somehow.  I lay awake in bed trying to figure out why I had not been rousted out of bed, and then I remembered….it was the 4^th of July.  Obviously mom and dad had taken mercy on me that morning and not gotten me out of bed, and I remember feeling a sense of relief.  It was a holiday and working 12 hours that day wasn’t going to be expected.  I wasn’t going to fail dad that day.

I remember a couple of years before dad died; my sister-in-law asked him why he didn’t go on vacation.  She explained that he and mom had the money to travel, with her and my brother taking over the family business they didn’t need to stay and look after things; he was free to move about with mom and go take it easy for a while.  He responded, “I would rather take a beating than take a vacation”.
I don’t know if you are aware of what you pass down to your children, or nieces or nephews, but I suspect it is safe to say that it is more than you realize.  Dad struggled with the concept of never being able to shut down and breathe, of always being “on duty” with no down time to just enjoy life.  Now at the age of 45, I’m off trying to figure out how to breathe.  Weird the lessons we have to learn in life.

The generation before us did the best they could with what they had and knew, and now it is up to our generation to take it to another level of understanding and change.  Can you do it?  Can you change the belief system you have had your whole life?

  Perhaps you need to learn how to “breathe” too.

 

Things are better because of you!

She is a miracle.  We had one child, a boy.  But after years of struggles and four miscarriages we were exhausted on multiple levels.  My wife was enrolled in an experimental process at Washington University in St. Louis, and we decided to try one last time to have a second child.  The process for her was grueling and with God’s blessings, even though there were scares along the way, on May 17^th of 1995 our daughter was born.  We named her Alexis because we thought it would be cool to have a girl that we could call “Alex”.  This is a big year for her.  She turned 18 two weeks ago and tonight she will graduate high school.  Amazing.  I remember an older gentleman years ago describe the years of life as they go by as a “blink”.  He’s right.

I suppose that a lot of you out there who are parents can perhaps struggle from time to time in appreciating your children and who they are.  Not me!  While I have many flaws and faults and problems, that is not one of them.  I lost my opportunity to be an everyday father to my children through divorce, when they were 5 and 2. I have hinged on every opportunity for every second I could enjoy with my children.  They are still the two greatest people I know.  Hands down and no contest.  You lose.  Kingston is a “mini-me”.  He looks like me, talks like me, walks like me, has the same mannerisms as me.  He is me, except that he’s much more gifted than I ever was.  And then there is Alexis, ah Alexis.  She is simply more.

She is beautiful, talented, poised, gifted, smart, wise and a leader all at the same time while just being 18 years old.  Quite the combination.  She is graduating high school in the top 10% of her class, and will deliver one of the speeches to her classmates at the graduation ceremony tonight.  She knows who she is and knows where she’s going.  But the thing about her that is so amazing is her ability to just make things better when she’s involved.  I’m sure you’ve been around those kinds of people.  You know, the ones where you’re talking about an event they were involved with and while you know they did things, you can’t quite place your finger on exactly what it was they did, you just know without a doubt that things were better because they were there.  Alexis is that kind of person.  She makes things better.

It’s a big weekend as we celebrate Alexis, her life and her accomplishments.  I know that you have blessings in your life.  I know that there are things in your life that you’re proud of and I know that you have close friends around you.  I, though, was blessed by God to have two children that I am so proud of, who are two of my closest friends and are the embodiment of the definition of what blessings are in my life.

When Alexis was still an infant, one of the greatest times for me was when I could lay down on the couch with no shirt on and lay her on my chest.  I could feel her warmth and her breath.  I could feel her heart beating.  She held my heart.  She still does.  I love you Alexis.  You are amazing.

“OLD SCHOOL”

I graduated high school over 25 years ago and man does that hurt to say.  When I was growing up in my parents household the rule was that if I ever got a whipping at school, I would get one at home (this was back in the day when parents were actually in charge and were more concerned about parenting rather than being liked all the time by their child).  This policy was in place as I grew up because it was the policy in the household my father grew up in.

My dad used to tell the story of how, when he was a child, he once got in trouble pretty severely at school.  In fact it was so bad that my father, indeed, received a spanking at school.  He was very upset because according to him, he was innocent.  Yes, he had been blamed for something he didn’t do.  He not only was upset, he was livid.  The very idea of him being punished when he had done nothing wrong was over the top upsetting and his dignity had been impugned.  Just wait until he got home and told his father, dad thought, and then that idiot teacher was going to know just what happened to someone who crossed the line with him.  When he got home that night he explained to granddad exactly what had happened and how he had been shamed beyond belief.  He said granddad looked at him and said, “well, it sounds like you really didn’t do anything wrong, so I guess I won’t spank you this time even though you did receive a spanking at school.”  Dad was beside himself.  Not get spanked at home?  He had not even considered that he was going to be spanked at home.  He was innocent!  He pleaded his case to granddad explaining how granddad had to go down to the one room school house and let this teacher have it.  He said granddad looked at him over the paper he was reading and said, “yeah, it’s probably not been a good day for you today, but I suspect you’ve done plenty of things you should have gotten a spanking for in the past and just weren’t caught.  Today you were punished for something you didn’t do.  Sounds to me like it all comes out in the wash”, and he went back to reading his newspaper.  Conversation over.  Granddad was right, there had been plenty of things dad had done and gotten away with them.  No argument there.  Dad dropped the subject and went out to do his chores.

Every time I think about that story I think of two words, “common sense”, or in the words of my grand dad, “having a little horse sense”.  I suspect that you might agree with me when I tell you that it seems to me that there is less and less common sense exhibited in the world today.  I wonder, do you think it coincides with the seemingly never ending growth of the victimization people seem to live in?  You see, in my story dad was sure he had been victimized.  He was wrongly blamed AND punished for something he didn’t do and because of that he couldn’t possibly see things from any other perspective….until his father gave him some common sense food for thought.

I wonder, how many times do we think we’re the victim….when perhaps there’s another way to look at things?