Thirty Eight and Counting…

Today I celebrated my 38th birthday and do you want to know what was on my mind more than anything else?  My Grandad.  He passed away in 1996 and almost 13 years later, I still miss him.  I think it’s because every time I look at myself in the mirror I see glimpses of him.

As I get older and my hair recedes further and the pounds seem too fade away at a much slower pace, it seems I look more and more like him.  My Grandad was a bald, hefty guy, but he was so fun to be around.  He was always the jokester and there are days when I think about him and can see how much we are alike.  Quiet at times, joking and sarcastic at other times and often very serious.

I can’t think of a better birthday gift than to have beautiful memories of my Grandad.  I loved him a lot and wish he was still around to share in my joy’s and to listen to my thoughts and ideas.  He was a great guy and I can’t wait to see him again some day.

Joy Comes in the Morning

I never knew what pure joy was like until the morning my son was born and even as I write that comment I feel guilty for saying it, because it seems like a haughty comment, especially to all the people in the world who would give anything to have a child.  It seems ludicrous to even insinuate that joy is measured by what we’ve attained through parenthood and at the same time it’s the single most perfect way for me to describe pure joy. 

I waited the nine months for his arrival filled with fearful anticipation.  Fearful because of the expectations I placed on his life before he was even born.  Fearful because of a conversation I had with God when I was only a teen.  Imagining what my life would be like as an adult, being married and having children, I had a feeling deep within my heart that God was preparing me at an early age for some future heart ache.  Hearth ache in what I identified at the time as a special needs child.  That early conversation and preparation would stick with me through my college years, through the early years of my marriage and even after our son was born.  Vainly, I remember questioning my son’s appearance with my wife and asking if she thought he was alright.  I think I had felt for so long something was going to be wrong, I just wanted to reassure myself that he really was okay.  He looked beautiful to me, but something was still causing a restless feeling within.

We decided not to find out what the sex of our baby would be prior to birth.  We wanted to be surprised, but I think we did everything in our power to will a boy.  We painted the nursery a pale shade of blue decorated in a classic Winnie the Pooh theme.  We bought all neutral colors, but predicted we’d have a girl to any person who asked.  When the moment finally arrived and the doctor held him up and said “it’s a boy” I couldn’t hold back the tears.  What we had unintentionally willed had become a special gift for the two of us to share together.

What we learned was life can be unpredictable much of the time.  We predicted a girl but got a boy and we were happy.  Our boy was perfect and we were excited about the days ahead as new parents and for all our dreams to finally come true as we started our family together.  However, there was still the haunting conversation between a young naive boy and God that lingered somewhere deep in my soul and no matter how prepared God may have thought I was nothing could have prepared me for the difficult and painful journey we’d soon find ourselves on.

Our Story

I can still remember the day like it happened yesterday.  I had just returned from a men’s retreat with my church and when I arrived home, my wife greeted me with eager anticipation and excitement.  She’d probably been waiting all weekend to take the test, but wanted me to be preset so I could be a part of it.  Within a few minutes we knew we were about to be parents.

We were excited and happy and couldn’t wait to make the appointment with the doctor to have our initial thoughts confirmed by a professional.  Those box tests aren’t always accurate, so we wanted to be sure before we started telling our family and friends.  It was one of the longest, hardest, and difficult waits we’d ever endured.  We wanted to share our excitement with everyone else, but decided to wait until we were 100% sure.  At the time, we didn’t know this would end up being one of the many difficult times we waited for answers.

Over the next few days I’ll be sharing our story.  A story of joy, unexpected twists and turns, questioning, love, grace, anger, depression, and faith.  The road we’ve walked hasn’t been easy, it’s been very difficult, but it hasn’t been too difficult for us to endure.  This will be the story of how we’ve learned, grown, and wrestled with God.  How we’ve tried to embrace our own efforts and strength and learned that we must rely on God for his strength.  It’s a story that is incomplete and a story that’s still being written.  We don’t know the end or the in between, but we do know who holds the pen!

I don’t know what this weeks writings are going to look like.  I don’t even know what I’m going to say.  But I know that it’s a story that needs to be shared.  It’s time for me to finally put the feelings, the battles,  the regrets, and the joys on paper.  This will be more for me than anyone else, but someday my son will read these and know how much we truly love him.

Future Unknown

This morning as I drove to work I couldn’t quit thinking about what today could mean for the future of our country and I paused and prayed for Barack Obama and his family.  It’s an exciting moment and I can only imagine what it must feel like to actually be in Washington today to see the event first hand.

I’ve felt a little of that excitement from a couple of people I follow on Twitter who actually live there.  As they describe the events unfolding it helps me get a better picture of what’s actually taking place.  It is an historical event for our country and not knowing what the future holds gives us an opportunity to show faith, which leads to hope, and one can only pray and trust, for a better future.

I want to make myself perfectly clear.  When I say “a better future”, I’m not talking about more money or more stuff.  I’m talking about the hope for love, grace, and opportunities for the last to be first.

I hope today marks the beginning of a country that decides to adopt the attitude of “Privileged to be an American” and once and for all we ditch the “Proud to be an American.”  I think it’s obvious the pride we’ve had is no longer working and we are in desperate need for change.