I have been laid off as of the first of this month and for the last few days, I've been doing some real soul searching. My wife usually lets me process stuff like this on my own, but by yesterday, it appeared that I was stuck. And I was stuck. What's worse, the enemy was taking pot shots at me and my heart. That's the worst, because recovering your heart is nearly impossible in those situations.
Being stuck is no fun. You don't have an answer and the longer you go, the uglier it gets. At issue was my role as a provider. For so long, my love as a father and husband has been expressed in that. Since my disability, it's been difficult, no... next to impossible to find ways to do this. It's not like I have the option to grind my way through 40 hours a week. I tried that and my body gives out on me. I need more than just the weekend to recover and employers don't like paying you a 40 hours-a-week salary for less than 40 hours of work, sometimes a lot less than 40 hours.
This fatherly need to provide for my family doesn't diminish even though my ability to do so has diminished. I can't stop providing for my family because I have this inner drive to do so that is as real as a mother's need to nurture and care for the daily needs of her children. It's real and I can't stop it from deeply affecting me when it is denied or squelched in some way.
My wife and I finally connected yesterday, which was overdue, way overdue. It's amazing how much of life's activities two people can share without talking about what really matters. The ingredients are two people and a quiet room, and we had the two people, but the quiet room took a while to get. When we did, we undid the lies the enemy had been slinging at me like drinks at a bar. It essentially came down to who my hope was in. My hope could not be in myself or my abilities. My hope couldn't be in a system that man created. My hope had to be in God and His plan for me. That's the "head" part; like I said before, the heart was much more involved and God took me and gently worked on me yesterday. The cynicism, the darkness, the anger built up out of frustration, and the poison malaise of indifference all had to go. I was getting hung up on the meaninglessness in life (Ecclesiastes, anyone?), and that's something only God can fix. He welcomed me into His arms and He held me while He worked on my heart. His love and grace for me through Jesus knows no bounds!
Today, I feel empty, but it's a good empty, like a blank sheet of paper ready to be filled up with drawings, musings, or folded into a wonderful paper airplane that soars across the room. I don't know what's next. I know my desire to provide is a good one and it has to be accommodated somehow. I know that I love to write, communicating God's love and spiritual truth. Beyond that, I'm ready for God to use me. My prayer is that He lets me do what I enjoy. Please pray for vision and clarity for me, if you think of it.
I'm getting ready for CHEC for the next three days, but before I get so motivated my socks pop off, I want to nail something down first.
Todd Wilson is a wonderful dad and support to homeschoolers everywhere. I've pushed him on this blog many times. Today he sent out a Familyman e-mail to his list. A key portion says,
As I talked with [a group of dads] about their teenagers who were giving them fits, their wives who didn’t seem to think like them, and the deceptively deadly pull of success that beckons to them everyday, I saw tiredness in their eyes and heard emotion in their voices.
I listened to them and nodded in understanding until they finished. Then in a gentle but firm voice I said, “Man, I know exactly how you feel, but...you ‘da dad. You may feel like giving up, but your family is counting on you. You can’t give up on them. Get back in there, because although they may say harsh things...they still need you.”
They sighed, stiffened their chins in determination, and nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Todd,” they said. “Thanks for the reminder.” And then they walked away, ready to give it another shot.
Normally, I can't shut up about how good Todd is, but this time, I think he's missed the mark.
While Christ helps us be better fathers, the goal of Christianity is not to be the best parent in the world. We can't soldier on endlessly like thirsty men looking for an oasis. There comes a time when you can't take that next step, when you can't be the father you are called to be. What happens then?
The old saying goes, "God never gives us more than we can handle." I've even said it, like recently. But it's wrong! If it were true, how would we ever turn to God for help? He should--and does--give us more than we can handle. We need to find the end of ourselves so that God can be our ultimate source. We need the oasis to come to us, to offer us hope and aid in our fight. God must be that source. Our wives and families can't provide what we need. Our other relationships can't help either. The one place we can go is the one place we must go. We have a spirit of sonsWhile Christ helps us be better fathers, the goal of Christianity is not to be the best parent in the world. We can't soldier on endlessly like thirsty men looking for an oasis. There comes a time when you can't take that next step, when you can't be the father you are called to be. What happens then?hip by which we cry "Abba! Father! Daddy!"
How much of American Christianity is infused with the Invictus Success Syndrome? It's the version of Christianity that shows up in 30-minute, pyramid-shaped infomercials on some cable channel late at night. It's the one where you try harder and pursue success as an American dad. You are the captain of the ship and if you're exhausted and not successful, you're doing something wrong. I'm sorry, Todd, but how many men left that meeting nodding their heads at the failures they feel they've become?
Why not let God define what a successful father looks like? Instead of soldiering on, we should surrender all to His vision for us. Instead of getting back in there, we need to get back to Abba and let Him love us so that we can love them. By reaching out to the Father, we find that He is there supporting us, giving us what we need, so we can give them what they need. When we are confronted by the things we can't control, like the hearts and minds of our children, we need to know that God's grace is sufficient for us, because His power is made perfect in our weakness.
One of my peers once said that there is no creature on the planet that is more miserable, angry, or disconsolate than a Christian who has violated their conscience. I can't help but agree. All day long, I've been agitated, upset and inconsolable. Nothing has brought me the peace I normally have. Why? What did I do?
I borrowed a game.
That's right. Horror of horrors, I asked a friend if I could borrow a game, he agreed, and I took it home last night. The game is a spoof on adventure games and it's hilarious, but it's also full of raunch, double-meanings, and dark humor.
Only last week, I felt the Holy Spirit rebuke me for indulging the darker side of my humor, which is two steps removed from cynicism, anarchy and despair. It's the kind of humor that surfaces in the joke that goes, "When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming in terror like his passengers." Dark humor is like pepper or spice. A little bit adds flavor and dimension to life. Any more of it overpowers everything it touches.
The double-meanings and the raunchy stuff adds fuel to the fire. I try to ignore the stuff and just move on with the game, but that's like trying to ignore a big, flashing neon sign. I'm not fooling anyone but myself if I play the game and think it can't touch me. The worst part is trying to hide it from my son. If I'm keeping secrets like that from anyone in my family, something's wrong. Worse, young eyes see and hear more than we realize. Nope, that game's going back to it's owner and my son is getting an apology from me. I'm trusting he will learn not just from my successes, but also my failures.
Folks who know me know that I love my home state of Colorado. I love its flag, its history, and its geography. More importantly, I love the freedom we have to homeschool our kids, which showed up in a university's survey of freedoms, going state by state. According to this article from the Grand Junction Sentinel, Colorado is "in a virtual tie with New Hampshire and South Dakota to be the most free state in the union." Not to do too much patting on the back here, but that's one thing I am very proud of. It's also one thing we have to guard very closely. The defense of freedom starts with words in print and words in speech and eventually ends with words in action.
Family Guy and Two and a Half Men are two of the funniest shows on television. I've seen them and they are hilarious, but I can also state that they're also two of the raunchiest. So when the Parents Television Council notices and takes action, why are they surprised, let alone offended?
Yet offended they are, and they've fired their own shots in return. The problem is that they don't stick. Funny or no, I don't let Family Guy or 2.5 Men in the house. There's a difference between being funny and being good funny. Good funny is being funny without resorting to titilating and embarrasing their viewers. There are plenty of funny shows, but there aren't nearly enough good funny shows.
For movie reviews that help you make a choice, my pick has to be PluggedInOnline.com.
I love living in Colorado. It is a wonderful state to live in. Vacationing is easy. Just pull into your own driveway, take the phone off the hook, put up a tent in the yard and technically, you're camping. Seriously, though, we have trouble taking a vacation to a place that's too close by. Driving thirty minutes to camp or stay in a hotel feels a little weird. So, folks in Denver like to think they'll retire to Colorado Springs. Colorado Springs folks think about retiring to Buena Vista or Leadville. I'm not sure where the folks from Leadville will retire to, but with the winters up there, I bet it will be someplace warmer or even tropical.
In honor of the start of summer break and the commencing of vacations, I thought I'd put up a list of things tourists have said while visiting Colorado or that people have asked Coloradoans when they defy reason and leave the state.
What time of year/At what altiitude do the deer turn into elk?
Where do you put the moguls in the summer?
You don't ski? I thought everyone in Colorado skied! (also applies to wearing cowboy hats)
Y'all got paved roads in Colorado? (not yet, but Woodrow Wilson mentioned we'd get some soon)
Do you own a horse?
Do you ski to school? (also applies to sled dogs)
Where do Rocky Mountain Oysters come from? Is there a lot of water in Colorado?
Do you need oxygen tanks to live there?
You live in an igloo right? (Bonus: How do you walk around your house without slipping?)
So what's South Park like? (Tell them Casa Bonita is real and they won't believe you.)
Why don't trees grow on top of your mountains?
The photo at right is from the top of Mt. Evans west of Denver. It's a bit of a read, but the details are riveting, especially when you count the screws used to mount the sign. There's a reason they did that.
For those who want to look more like a local or who really want to know what the answers are, I've put them down below.
Deer and elk look similar, with antlers, snouts and four hooves, but trust me, they are two very different species. Elk tastes better, in my opinion.
Moguls are turned inside out, shaken hard, and put on a plane from Aspen back to L.A. ...Wait, that's movie moguls. Ski moguls are mounds of snow that are created by skiers as they carve down the slopes.
Although I haven't seen a survey of state residents and skiing, I'll speculate that a surprising percentage of residents do not ski, and fewer still are those who have skied in the last three years. There are a lot of reasons for this, but lift tickets are horribly expensive, I-70 is terribly crowded, and we keep thinking we'll go next year.
Duh. These are likely the same people that ask if we ride horses everywhere or if we still fight Indians, both of which questions showed up on a "dumb questions" page online as legitimate, documentable inquiries.
See explanation 4 above. No, we do not, although it's practically required for someone to live in Golden. Do I have a cowboy hat and boots? Ain't tellin'.
See explanation 3 above. Skiing to school is not practical unless you live at the top of a mountain, and then you've got other problems, like lightning, wind, and a dog that refuses to go outside in either, remembering that the last time it did, it nearly died. If you tried to ski to school (without the aid of a snowmobile or truck known as skijoring), you'd have to cross-country ski, and then we'd accuse you of losing your mind.
No, there is not a lot of water in Colorado, which is why we have lawyers who litigate exclusively over water rights. The lack of an ocean and the lack of a local delicacy prompted a joke that's groin--er, grown into a novelty dish. I will not mention the ingredients, but you can read more about Rocky Mountain oysters here.
Contrary to all the press our altitude receives, people from below 2,000 feet ASL who take it easy the first 24 hours or so can acclimate fairly well if they drink plenty of water. People who don't are soon usually flat on their backs complaining about the lack of oxygen. That's when we bring them a tank and tell them not to drink alcohol while they're here. We breathe just like they do, only better.
Another Duh. Although, we have winter festivals with snow carving and such. How do we keep from slipping? Seal skin.
South Park is a big, empty broad expanse of Kansas that we imported to break up the monotony of all those mountains. There is no town called South Park, unless you count Fairplay's effort to capitalize on the show's popularity. It is brown (or white) and mostly treeless. Antelope do play, but mostly they just stand around, gawking at the tourists.
Above 11,200 feet or so, trees do not grow in Colorado. This is called timberline. It is too cold, snowy, dry and dark for trees to grow above that threshold. Alpine tundra is beautiful and has small wildflowers that manage to thrive in that climate, including my favorite, the Columbine.
Like I said, I love Colorado. I plan to live here the rest of my life. I've seen nearly everything in the state, so if you're coming to Colorado, give me a shout and I'll pass along what I know.
These are the things a lot of homeschooling parents would like to tell non-homeschoolers if social conventions and basic human kindness went out the window. Here's #13 (my favorite):
13. Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.
The rest are pretty good, mostly because they hit close to the mark. Don't say I didn't warn you.
When I was a boy, I didn't read all that much because I had a visual disorder that kept my eyes from working together on the same words. As a result, I'd have to use the vision from one eye to read and subconsciously discard the vision from the other eye. Mentally, it was a stress point in my absorption and retention of information. This resulted in frustration and bad grades, especially under teachers that worked "visually," assigning independent reading, working a lot on the chalkboard, and so on.
I loved to read what I could concentrate on, however, and comic books (no joke) were very compatible with my visual disorder. The pictures were large enough that I could go frame by frame and retain a lot more. The problem was that my parents didn't go in for comics all that much and it would be a few more years before my visual disorder would be discovered and remedied. The one place I could get comic books of any sort was the Christian bookstores my mother shopped.
Enter Spire Christian Comics. I started with Barney Bear and then Archie and later still the adventure and biographical comics. They were benign with faith-based themes that were clearly intended for a churched, Christian audience. I still remember many of them, but I didn't realize their effects on my understanding of God until very recently.
At the risk of going on a bit of a bunny trail, I'll fill you in. I was talking with my daughter about how we can still trust God, even if it means that we would die. She had brought up Savannah and her parents, saying that their faith in God didn't protect her from death. I worked to help her understand that the question lacked eternal perspective. Life here on this planet is deceptively real. Because this world is all that we remember, we think that this life is all there is to reality, even though the Bible and even our own experiences lead us to conclude otherwise. The true foundation of reality is found in the eternal. Even Plato's cave alludes to the unseen perfection. Finally, I showed her 1 Corinthians 13, where Paul writes,
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 perfection comes, the imperfect 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 childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor 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.
We were reading that together and I casually mentioned that faith, hope and love were based on time. Faith is based on things in the past. Hope is based on the future. Love is based on the present. She asked me if I came up with that myself and I did a little mental sleuthing to figure out where I caught that bit of insight. The answer: Al Hartley in one of his Archie comics!
The longer I parent, the more it's driven home that we are shaped so much in the first 15 years or so in life. We carry forward the worldview and beliefs that we learn from childhood. This is why my family and I view homeschool as critical to our children's future.
A fellow Spire Comics collector has made some Adobe scans of his comics, long since out of print. Sadly, there are no Barney Bear scans. Maybe I still have my "Barney Bear Wakes Up!" deep in a moving box. I'll see if I can find it.
When I regularly watched nighttime TV--I can't stand most shows now--I remember enjoying a laugh or two and then getting blindsided by a slam on Christianity or God. As a sincere follower of Jesus, those potshots usually hit a little close to home and left me thinking, "The writers just don't get it."
I am witness to and the beneficiary of God's love for all of us. ... I am witness, too, to the fact that His love is so strong that it was even able to open my rusty old closed heart. I will thank Him forever because He gave me new life and a heart which is truly able to love for the first time in my life. His love is mine.
A "cocaine cowboy" comes home and finds that God not only left the light on for him, but He ran across the north 40 to grab him up in His arms. Do we sit back like the other son, saying, "Great. Woo-hoo. Just wonderful," or do we join with God, rejoicing over Joe's life won back from death and hell?
God's love reaches beyond those rusted doors, behind the graffiti-scrawled walls, down into the lowest places we dare conceive our hearts can sink to. It reaches out, breaking through those defenses and reaching the heart of the most desperate with hope, the most abandoned with security, and the most broken with healing. His love does that. It takes the used up, the abused, the disfigured, the maligned and the humble and lifts them up, bringing glory to Himself. "The LORD has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes."
Folks, I need to request prayer. Tuesday night, I came down with a stomach virus that has tripped every Fibromyalgia 'hard point" in my body. Normally, I deal with one or two or three. This is all of them at once (12!), and I can safely say that I have never felt worse. It has not let up, except for the nausea, which mercifully ended today about noon.
