My blog suffers each time I am under a deadline and this was no exception. Come to think of it, my body suffers any time I am under stress. Yesterday, I slept 15 hours because the piece I was working on was finally completed and submitted the day before. Ah the wonderful world of Fibromyalgia!
As it was, I woke up just in time for a date with my wife. Any time you can't remember your last date, it's a sign you need another one. Last night, we went out to the Outback Steakhouse, courtesy a friend's generosity, for what is the ideal meal to me. Start out with warm, fresh bread with butter. Follow with a caesar salad and then a center-cut sirloin seared to medium-rare perfection along with a loaded jacket potato. Such is my favorite meal. We talked, held hands over the table, and meaningfully discussed life together. Then dessert arrived.
Every restaurant dessert requires an excuse. Paying $5 for dressed up ice cream is hard to justify otherwise. In this case, my birthday was the excuse and I decided to go big. The Outback's "Chocolate Chocolate Tower" is every chocolate lover's dream. Imagine thin layers of chocolate cake separated by the richest chocolate frosting known to man. I can't say it was fudge because that suggests something unlike what it was. I remember a Bavarian chocolate torte and this was the closest approximation. Good grief, it was so good! As a part of my weight loss regimen, I do not gorge anymore, but this was worth breaking that rule. If you want chocolate cake for your birthday, baby, that's the one!
I waddled to the car after that. I couldn't complete the feat and finish it. That's another part of my weight loss plan. Food left on the plate is a good thing, not something to feel wasteful about. Compulsive cleaning of the plate is just that, compulsive. I will not be mastered by anything, as Paul said.
Am I on a diet? Not really. Diet implies that I'll go back to old habits after a while. I can't afford that. I need to lose a lot of weight over time and then keep it off. This is the new way I eat and I plan to keep it that way. I will not order dessert in the future... unless I have an excuse.
My best friend in Canada sent me an article on the "what were they thinking?" variety of cars in the last few decades (don't look for the Edsel). On the short list: The Pontiac Aztek, the Buick Roadmaster, and the Suzuki X-90. Sadly, one of my favorites made the list as well. The Subaru Baja was a victim of a 4 cyl. engine and insufficient seating in back. Still, it looked okay and you had the look of driving a truck (a very low one) without being asked on a weekly basis to help someone move.
Editing Note: This post was originally published today on my Disablogger blog. I thought it could be posted here as well.
Having a disability puts issues of the heart up front. It makes those issues unavoidable. If you have an emotional control issue or even a controlling attitude that makes it easy to manipulate others, a disability is the stressor that forces you to deal with it or let the whole world see your problem while you deny its existence.
I say this because I yelled at the kids today. I mean, someone small got in my way and I used a forceful voice to call their attention to it. That’s not the person I want to be, yet that was how I acted today. I’m not proud of it, either.
Likewise, when we are prone to self-pity or self-loathing, we tend to let it get the better of us because of—not in spite of—our disability. Ironically, we can let a disability enable us to indulge in selfish behavior. We focus on ourselves, or we let conversations center around how we are getting along for more than just a little while, or we complain more than we should, all because our disability supposedly grants us license. We all have been dealt some bad cards, some we have from birth to death or some we have for a season, be it short or long. Licensed selfish behavior is still selfish, and as any kindergartener can tell you, being selfish pushes away friends and happiness.
I have challenged myself to focus on others more, doing things for them instead of doing things for me. Doing so has helped me out of the selfish mode that is so easily slipped into. What’s more, I have found that I’ve reclaimed that piece of my humanity from my disability, becoming a real person in my own self-image again. It’s funny how not focusing on something you don’t have tends to enrich your life so much more.
The Canadian Pacific Railroad added a nice touch to the services and whoever approved the "Nathaniel" special to be parked for the funeral did a wonderful and special thing for the family. It lets them remember their boy not for his death in a storm, but for his life and his loves.
Who's in the stall next to you on your next trip to the restroom?
That question's going to be on a lot of people's minds, including mine, after hearing about Colorado's Gov. Bill Ritter signing S.B. 200 into law. This law is so poorly written, critics are expecting it to give license to all sorts of abuses. From the article:
"It is now legal in the state of Colorado for a grown man to walk into a girl's restroom in an elementary school for whatever purpose, and it is illegal for the school to say you can't do that," said Schneeberger. "What we're really concerned about is sexual predators … who want to prey on young boys or young girls in particular, who would use the confusion caused by this law to victimize our children."
I know that the likelihood of this happening is somewhat low, but then who thought the price of gas would double in two years? Unlikely things still happen and the longer this sits on the books, the more likely this poorly written law will be abused and some child ends up scarred. Under this law, my wife and children no longer have a right to privacy when they're using public restrooms, or even a pool locker room as a public accomodation. Under this law, a man with a wig and a beard could wander into the "Women's" restroom, spy on my family, and I would be legally powerless to do anything about it. All this person would need to do is yell, "Help, I'm being discriminated against!" and the ACLU will be at his side in a heartbeat. Enter the lawyers. Exit my rights.
I try not to get nostalgic, but this never would have seen the light of day under Bill Owens, our state's last governor. But now Jennifer Viega, Bill Ritter and the rest of the Denver Democrats are pushing their agenda, heedless of the damage it does to our rights.
One of the better "homeschool dads" out there is Todd Wilson. He has a ministry called Familyman Ministries where he goes out on the road and encourages families at homeschool conferences and conventions. We met Todd a few years ago when he came out to Colorado to do the Christian Home Educators of Colorado (CHEC) state conference. His heart is for dads and moms and how to lead a family through homeschooling and family discipleship.
He has a regular e-mail he sends out called the Familyman Weekly. I have his ongoing permission to reprint his latest edition. You may find that in the days of $4 gallons of gas, $50 doesn't even fill the tank of an SUV or even a humble minivan. Well, $50 does buy something better, as you'll see in his message below.
Hey Dad,
Just in case you didn’t know this about me, I’m cheap---although not as bad as Ebenezer Scrooge. Now with that said, let me tell you a recent story about how I overcame my natural cheap tendencies to love my daughter extravagantly.
It all happened while we were enjoying a much needed rest from life on the road in Florida. Surrounded by thousands of pale, pasty-skinned tourists, we noticed several princessy-looking girls all dolled up with sparkling hair and pixie dust.
My boys hardly took notice, but all the women folk in my family awed and ooed. I could only imagine how much it cost, and later found out that your basic princess hairdo/makeover cost about $50. FIFTY BUCKS!!!!!
As the days ticked by and we continued to see more walking princess hairdo billboards, a growing prodding began to whisper in my heart, “Katherine would love that.”
I know, but it costs fifty bucks, I inwardly argued! And it won’t even last two days.
But the feeling wouldn’t go away and had been working on my wife as well, because on the last night we both looked at each other and said, “What do you think about doing the princess makeover for Katherine?”
Then my wife added, “This could be the last year that she’ll want to. Next year she might feel too old.”
Sold.
That night we surprised our daughter with the princess treatment. She was overwhelmingly grateful, and as she walked towards me with sparkles in her hair, she beamed.
“Thank you soooo much, Dad,” she said as she hugged her old man.
“You look beautiful, Katherine,” I whispered.
Well, I was wrong. The hairdo lasted 4 days, and Katherine loved every minute of it…and so did I.
You know, Dad, the makeover cost less than a seventh of a tank of fuel for the RV, which barely lasts two days. But my daughter will always remember the night she got the princess hairdo and how she felt loved by her mom and dad.
I’m telling you, Dad, loving someone extravagantly doesn’t have to cost $50. One dad wrote me and told how he brought home candy bars to everyone in his family as a surprise. Same result.
It’s not about spending money though; it’s about using your time, money, or energy to show love extravagantly from time to time. It’s about sleeping out in the backyard, building a tree fort, or taking a much promised road trip. It’s all about doing it TODAY, because tomorrow may be too late.
So Dad, no excuses---just do it!
You ‘da dad,
Todd
PS – To see my beautiful daughter and her princess makeover along with a photo of me after a repair to a roof vent in a downpour, go to http://www.familymanweb.com/rvblog
Spend money? Maybe. Spend time and energy? You bet! Girls want to know if they're pretty in their father's eyes, and I believe that if dad doesn't effectively communicate that to his daughters, they will spend a good part of their "flower years" trying to find the love, admiration and esteem from other men who may not care one whit about their hearts or their minds. Go out there and tell your daughters you love them. Tell them before their flower fades and their heart closes forever. Dad, this father's day, be a father and call your children to your heart. Call them home. It's what daddies do.
Yesterday evening, Steven Curtis Chapman and his family lost their 5 year-old daughter, Maria Sue. She was struck and killed by a car driven by one of their older children. Apparently, the teen did not see the child.
I have not lost a child, but I have lost a few friends and walked with other friends through deep grief. I don't know all there is to know about grief, nor do I have letters after my name giving me any more authority than anyone else on the subject. Yet, I have some advice for those people encountering a tragedy like this.
On Grief
Grief is not understood by most people here in America. I'm speaking of both the emotion and the people suffering from it. People don't understand it. No one wants to experience it or be around those who do, mostly because there's not much that can be done for it. That's not to say that people don't try, mind you, but nothing much can be done to help alleviate grief.
Grief is its own emotion, if not its own state of mind based on a reaction to loss. It is not just a form of severe sadness or deep depression, although both of those can result from grief. Instead, it is a profound sense of loss that overwhelms a person, affecting all facets of their life. There are not only emotional effects, but physical, psychological, and spiritual effects that ripple through the bereaved person.
Grief is not a gradual progression of steps. It's not orderly or even rational. It's a very messy, disorganized and distressing experience for those going through it. I have found myself brooding one moment, laughing in the next moment and in tears a minute or two later. It is a very rough ride, similar to riding a bull. You don't know which way you're going next, only that you feel the surge of the emotion and the power of it overrides everything else.
Tread Lightly
This "bull riding" experience is obviously very distressing, both to the person experiencing the grief and to those surrounding the person. There is a natural tendency to react to the ups-and-downs and twists-and-turns of the experience. What comes out of our mouths at these times is anything but predictable. Noone can weather such an experience with a "perfect rating." Mistakes, miscommunications, inappropriate remarks and the like are going to happen, unfortunately. However, I do have some tips on how to minimize them and tread lightly on people's hearts and minds.
Avoid attempts to normalize the experience. This is the first mistake with grief. Every grief encountered is as different as the people who experience them. Comparisons between a person's grief and another loss encountered by them or someone else is a fruitless and harmful exercise. Statements that begin with, "When your father died..." or "When I lost my..." should be treated with extreme caution. A poorly-delivered or poorly-conceived thought along these lines stings and invites a strong rebuke.
Avoid attempts to re-interpret the grief. Putting a spin on things may work in the news media but it is a fools notion to apply it to a loss. For bereaved parents, referring to a child as their "dear little angel now singing in heaven" can be disasterous, not to mention an error in most people's theology. Other words of consolation about what they still have--a spouse or a child, for example--are not helpful. They may even serve to remind a person of what they still can lose. Words of consolation should be short, brief and sincere. Statements like "I'm so sorry for your loss," or "I will be praying for you and your family," are sufficient.
Making An Offer
Often those on the outside wish there was something they could do, but offers of help should be genuine and appropriate. As innocent as the offer may seem, a friend of the opposite sex saying "call me anytime," could be poorly interpreted by anyone.
An offer of help should be tailored to the person's situation and your relative closeness to them. A practical offer aimed at making life easier, like offering and then delivering a meal in a few days, is usually helpful. An offer never made is better than one never fulfilled.
On Loss and Time
Though I'm focusing on the loss of a child, losses take all forms, and not just in death. Loss of a job, a home, a friendship, and a marriage all have unique and powerful aspects I couldn't begin to speak to. Even though I'm disabled, I have lost abilities over time and couldn't begin to fathom the grief of someone who lost abilities in a sudden accident.
Just as losses vary, so does the time and extent of a person's recovery. A parent may never "get over" losing their child, and any expectation put on them to "move on" is unfair and calloused. Even if a recovery may seem complete, the effects may linger. A few days ago, I watched a movie in which a little girl died in a car accident. I thought I would be fine with it, but as soon as the image of the dead child hit the screen, I was back in the ER looking over a friend's daughter when she had just died. I couldn't handle my reaction and I got physically sick over it. It's something I had to process and deal with the rest of that evening. I may be more sensitive than others on this, but that's just it: each person varies in their reaction and recovery. You don't really know if you've healed until you're confronted with some trigger moment, a memory, an image or even a sound. Give yourself the grace to face the grief again and mourn the loss anew. It's something your human heart just has to do.
Last Thoughts
It takes a great deal of sensitivity and courage for anyone to reach out to someone bereaved over a loss. That cannot be overstated. It is not widely recognized as a brave thing, but those who do can save a heart, if not save a life. Acts of heroism, large and small, are possible in the face of grief and sooner or later, we'll all have the opportunity.
My heart goes out to the Chapman family. It is a sudden shock to a family that I understand to be closely knit. The pain they are feeling must be profound. My prayers are for them and for the grieving parents out there who have lost their children. No parent should have to bury their children. May God give them peace that passes understanding and reaches their hearts in one of their darkest and most distressing time.
O, for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer's praise. Instead, they seem to sing the praises of exposing all that is evil. Such is the case with the "Narnia and C.S. Lewis are servants of the Devil" camp. Google "Narnia witchcraft" and you'll find no shortage of web sites stating how C.S. Lewis secretly served Satan and how he desired to reintroduce Pan worship and so on. Some go so far as to include mood music and pictures from the Disney/Walden Media releases.
It would be laughable, if not for the tragedy that they're quite serious about it. I once bought into that line of thinking too, but here's what I realized: How can Satan oppose Satan? If Lewis intentionally retold the Gospel and its central theme of the redemption of mankind by God's Son, and he did, and if the readers infer the Gospel message, and they do, wouldn't that do irreparable damage to Satan's cause? If so, then Lewis opposes Satan, and these sites are doing more harm than good. "Logic. Why don't they teach logic at schools?"
Conjuring spirits is almost as bad as conjuring up bad information on C.S. Lewis to assassinate his character or otherwise defame him. A lot of professing Christians have written or said or done a lot of un-Christian things in their lives. Does that invalidate everything associated with them? Babies and bathwater, indeed. Did Christ die for only the sins we committed before we knew him? There is no error as grievous as bad theology, but if Lewis made such mistakes, I believe we have all made them. No one has a perfect grasp of God, because no finite mind can grasp the truly infinite. Lewis, as passionate and creative as he was, his humanity was just as real as the paper he wrote on and he gets some things wrong. Does that mean that all of Narnia perishes in fire and water? I hope not. Let Lewis be human and God will be God, whether we let Him or not.
For Lewis's humanity, he suffers the same humiliation as all other authors: I don't put my Lewis books on the "same shelf" as my Bible. That doesn't mean I don't experience the joy of the resurrection when I read about Aslan's return or feel the hope of heaven when Peter and the others come home into the real Narnia at the end and go further up and further in. It means that there's a place for fantasy, allegory and metaphor in my home and in my mind. It does not have to sweep away all wizards or magic with the same stroke of a broomstick. If a game or a movie or a book helps me show my kids how God has revealed Himself to us in scripture and through His Spirit in our lives, I may make use of it, but only if I feel it's worth the trouble of sifting it. The Chronicles of Narnia are most definitely worth that trouble.
A long walk back from fishing at a reservoir in 1998 taught me something new: mountain lions don't roar, they scream. We were walking toward the dam when a unhuman, warbled scream made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "Uh, what was that, Dad?" He told me to just keep walking. A few minutes later, the scream sounded again from further away.
"That was a mountain lion," he told me.
Earlier this spring, I had the chance to hear it again at a big cat sanctuary and it still brought a jolt of adrenaline, even with a cage and enough distance to keep me safe. It was the primal reaction to a threat that 34 years of relative safety couldn't quite smother. It makes me wonder at how this woman has not only survived but thrived after her encounter. It takes a lot of prayer and not just a little courage. I know that God is using her in a powerful way.
