GodisGood – LifeSucks

My oldest brother purchased me a pair of Converse running shoes when I was 10yrs old. They were blue with a red logo on the side of them. To a 10yr old kid these shoes were to be cherished and shown off to all of my friends.

I had these shoes for about 3 weeks when one day it had began to rain, not heavy at first, so I rushed to get inside and in doing that I cut across our front yard since it was the shortest path to the front porch. I was pretty much successful in not getting my shoes wet.

Once inside my brother, who had purchased the shoes, noticed that the front of the shoes were wet and had some grass on the tips from cutting through the front yard. He told me to take them off and give them to him. I was a little worried that he would be upset but thought I was just going to get a “talking” to.

He inspected the shoes and noticed the grass on the shoes and wanted me to see it up close. He held the shoe in front of me and told to look closely at how the tips of the shoes were getting ruined because of my stupidity. I looked closer.

What happened next has affected my life ever since. As I looked closer he hit me in the mouth with the part of the shoe that had grass on it and then threw it at me while screaming about how stupid I was and that he would never buy me anything again. Bleeding from my lip and tears running down my face I apologized and took my once prized possession which had quickly gone from being prized to something I was unworthy of and was a thing to be feared.

The other day I was talking with my daughter and the discussion came up about not walking on the grass. While I don’t really care if anyone else walks on the grass, I have an aversion to it. I try not to do it and will walk several feet out of the way if needed. She found this interesting and so we discussed the why and how of it which leads to this blog.

Though this blog is not about getting a split lip or an aversion to not walking on the proper path it does bring to light how we develop certain odd habits and quirks that we carry with us from our childhoods. I am sure we all recognize these things in ourselves and we can often look back into our childhood and see what the events were that affected us.

I often look around me and try to see if I am creating these events in those that are close to me. I check to make sure that my wife and daughters don’t avoid certain things with me, whether they be conversations or daily interactions. I am a little sad to say I can see some things that I have done that have “trained” them in how to act around me but for the most part I am caring and watchful of my actions.

We can often teach our families around us to not ask certain questions by our reactions or to not attempt certain feats, whether they be adventurous one or ones they just don’t have the skill for, because of our reactions in the aftermath of a failure. Words such as “I told you so” or “You should know better” are often our training tools as adults and parents.

Take a look around and see if your kids don’t wear Converse tennis shoes or walk on the grass so to speak. I certainly don’t have any Converse running shoes nor do I stray from the proper path. I learned a lesson a long time ago… and it is a tough one to forget. My family has it own oddities but most of them are self inflicted ones…:-)

Lin

My daughter works as a server at a nice restaurant in our city. This leads to some good stories and I quite enjoy them.

She came home after work one day and relayed a story about how some Christians had left a tract on the table for their server. They had put his name on the empty line so it would be personalized. Her friend said they get them every now and again and she said it is greeted with some laughter and a bit of fun.

She is excited to get her first tract from a hit and run Christian. I must say I am waiting with baited breath for that time also. I want to know what kind of Christian leaves a tract at a restaurant for a server. Not that it is a negative thing but it is so opposite of what I think about. She is great at describing people and I just want to know all I can about it when it happens.

On another note she has relayed the opinions of servers about waiting on people on Sundays, the after church crowd. There seems to be a general consensus about Christians and tipping. We are cheap when it comes to rewarding those who serve us even though we are also very demanding. I know there are multiple reasons to be cheap such as calling it frugal or being a good steward. I just call it embarrassing.

I know that God owns the “cattle on a thousand hills” but apparently, for the most part, His servants are unwilling to part with 20 percent of the bill for a tip. I just hope if someone leave a tract about salvation it is neatly tucked into a 20 percent tip and including a written thanks.

Did you know servers make about 2.50 and hour and rely upon tips for their pay…

I am reading a book that I have mentioned before (God on Mute) and below you will read and excerpt that I thought was meaningful. A pastor’s son was diagnosed with a disease which would not allow the son to live to be an adult. The pastor is talking about the changes in his life and below is a simple moment of clarity put into writing…

I am a more sensitive person, a more effective pastor, a more sympathetic counselor because or Aaron’s life and death than I ever would have been without it. And I would give up all of those gains in a second if I could have my son back. If I could choose, I would forego all the spiritual growth and depth which has come my way because of our experiences, and what I was fifteen years ago, an average rabbi, an indifferent counselor, helping some people and unable to help others, and the father of a bright, happy boy. But I cannot choose.

It is probably good that God does the choosing.

Does your kid lie? Are they good at it? I wonder where they learned to do that?

I think on most occasions we are the training grounds for our kids learning how to lie. I don’t mean it in that they watch us and learn that way ( they might though) but that we are in a round about way teaching them to lie.

Let me draw you a picture.

You are sitting on your front porch and your child is running down the sidewalk in flip flops. You have told them before that they are not to run on the pavement in flip flops. With good reason since they skinned their knees badly the last time they did it. You call them over after a minute and ask them if they were running in their flip flops on the sidewalk.

Couple of things.

Why did you ask them?

Are you trying to trap them?

Testing their honesty?

Whatever the reason you are providing opportunity for them to lie. Now instead of correction you have set a trap. One that they can dig deeper if the don’t respond properly. If they lie now they have not only failed to obey you but heaped upon that is now you are angry about the lie. The one you provided the opportunity for.

A better response might be to call them over and say “I saw you running on the sidewalk in your flip flops. Last time you skinned your knees running like that. Go inside and change into different shoes.”

Several things have been achieved here.

You addressed the broken rule. You gave a reason. You assigned a punishment by requiring shoes to be change. How much more our children could learn if they didn’t have to navigate the minefield of traps we set for them.

From a Dad’s perspective I don’t want my kids to lie to me and I would really prefer not to be mad at them. And if and when they do lie without a trap being set then it is a big deal.

Take a couple of days and watch yourself and those around you in your dealings with other adults. You may see it is present everywhere but you just don’t have to be one of those people.

I was reading a book named “God on Mute” and I came across a realization to myself. I am the king of saying “I got it” when asked if I need help. It has become an almost instant reaction.

I don’t need help with much and when I do I still use those three words to fend off my friends and their good intentions. I once moved a four bedroom house including a piano across town by myself in a 26ft moving van. I used the excuse that it was the weekend and I didn’t want to bother any of my friends (who lived with two miles of me).

I carried this thought a little further and realized that I do this in my prayer life also. If you have read any of my previous posts you may realize that I have had to “fix” a lot of things in my life and I have often done it alone even with my family and friends waiting in the wings to help. I have carried the can do I got it attitude right into my relationship with God.

He is waiting also and I just simply don’t think my problems are big enough to bother Him with. I got it. What a crappy way to live. I never end up asking my God to help and therefore all of my conversations with Him are about others. It seems though that almost every guy I know tends to do this. What a crappy way for them to live.

I refuse to let this realization languish in the same dusty closet that other realizations tend to be brushed into. I love my God and I think it is about time I dust off the “help me” phrase with Him and my friends.

An old friend of mine from a long time ago used to say “why would you steal my blessing?” when I would try and refuse his help or his offer to take me to lunch. I think this is true. If I have stolen your blessing in the past I will try to make that right. You can buy me lunch and I will let you help me if you see I might be in need of help and have not asked.

A thought crossed my mind the other day after hearing someone talk about divorce statistics and other such depressing things. Who is this someone else that seems to be a large cause of love failing in our lives?

Someone else is simply someone else. Someone else is the person we choose to give our love to other than the one we KNOW who loves us. We know that God loves us unconditionally and yet we choose to seek someone else. We pursue the love of our friends, not so much friends, people in our workplace, those we play sports with and even the stranger who we might run across.

We hide our true selves from these people most of the time and put on a facade that will make the best impression and maybe, just maybe, they will look upon us an love us. It doesn’t even have to be real love it just needs to be good enough for the moment.

What about God… He will be there when I get back, right? He loves me unconditionally, right? I will fix things up when I am done pursuing someone else.

What happened to the honeymoon period? Did God suddenly get fat and undesirable? I really don’t know what to think about how we have misplaced our belief that God is worthy of getting up in the morning and chasing after like the love of our lives.

When I think about the divorce rate in the church it is no surprise that some of our spouses cannot hold onto the love required to stay married. If you look at how we dismiss God it is obvious that a husband or wife has no chance at being loved when there is someone else.

To my sports… I love you, but I gotta go.

To my friends… I love you, but I gotta go.

To my wife and daughters… I love you and I am never going.

To my God… I love you most and there is not a someone else.

My father died at a young age and as you read in my previous blog it was a difficult time. You would have thought that things had pretty much hit rock bottom. Not so.

During the following year I began to misbehave and with a family of eight that was pretty much the only way to get attention. Looking back on that year it would be simple to wish I had behaved better especially with the outcome, but when I look at the here and now I realize it was part of what my story had to be. I suffered then and sometimes now, but I guess the difference now is that I  do not suffer alone.

At the end of my tenth year I became homeless. My mother must have felt a great deal of hatred towards me to do this. After a particularly difficult day she told me to go up stairs and pack all my clothes into a suitcase. This took me just long enough to think of how to apologize for my actions. I was scared. I went downstairs and she told me to go out on the porch and wait. I did and to this day I recognize with clarity the sound of a dead bolt lock sliding into place.

I cried and tried to get back into the house but the only response was my brothers and sisters peering through the window. When my father died I thought I had experienced the loneliest  moment of my life. It was not even close. As it became dark I began to really worry that I was going to be left alone outside. I begged and promised never to cause trouble but at this point even my brothers and sisters had become bored with looking out the window. It was silent and I was so much more alone.

I slept on the porch that night hoping someone would come out and I could sneak back into the apartment. No one ever came out and I never was allowed back in my family’s home. Silence and loneliness had a new depth. The next night I slept next to the dumpster to get out of wind and the terror of being rejected finally sank it. Everyone was gone.

At the time I was part of the Big Brothers program and once my Big Brother found out I was sleeping outside he came and picked me up. There is a great deal more to the story but that is for another time. The story actually takes a turn for the worse and maybe I will write it out sometime.

Is there a point to me writing another depressing blog?

Yes. I have learned to enjoy the silence and I speak clearly with the only Father/Mother who never left me in the dark. I see people quite differently that you probably do and I always recognize a lonely person. The only biblical promise that I care about is that I will not be left behind. It is freeing not to worry about whether or not I am missing out on something. I am not.

If you knew my wife and two daughters you would be blessed.  God looked upon my sorrow and chose the very best for me. I cannot complain.

I am loved…now.

Warning… Blogging about suicide.

When I was nine I sat on the end of my mother’s bed. I had a rifle that belonged to my dad and it was in my mouth. I had seen him hunt enough to know the procedures for loading and how to shoot. My father died of cancer earlier that year and the following silence had become unbearable. I look back and I am grateful that I did not succeed. I couldn’t reach the trigger. I also tried to succeed with a pencil but couldn’t quite figure it out. So thank goodness for short arms.

You may be wondering why I am blogging about this morbid subject. One of my friends that I had breakfast with mentioned that he was at a video shoot for a documentary about teen suicide and the affects it has on the family. That got me thinking about why I would try to commit suicide. What would a nine year old have to been so despondent about? Turns out it was one single thing, silence.

Silence filled every void in my house and life. It seemed that when my father’s voice left the house so did everyone else’s. No more of the dreaded “wait till your father gets home!” or “get your fishing stuff together and let’s go”. I would have given quite a bit to hear anything related to my father but strangely it was as if he had never existed. Life was replaced by silence and it was not golden. I had my father’s name and it was as if that in itself had become my fault. I could see activity around me but it seemed like it was not for me anymore. It was unbearable.

You often hear that most suicides can be prevented if you just notice the signs and take action. I agree but I also find it somewhat defeating to tell this to the most self involved people in the world. If people such as my family would have looked around they could have seen without any training that there was a problem. There were those around me who I am sure tried to reach me but that did not matter. I needed the ones who had made the most noise (affection) in my life to break the silence. This never happened.

So I end up thanking God for short arms and a kid’s lack of ingenuity. I am appreciative of all the programs that help us recognize suicide and I laud their efforts. I have one thing to add. Hugs. There are very few things that are louder than a hug. Even as kids we can recognize silence even when words are being spoken. So hug.

I have a great deal of music ( a wife and two daughters) in my life now and I am grateful that they do not suffer with silence as I did. Look around and start creating your own music. Love someone.

I was sitting in church this last Sunday and listening/watching the music presentation and had a thought. I preface this thought with the statement that I am not a musically inclined person. Tone deaf would be the closest description of myself.

The thought that crossed my mind as I was looking around was that the people on stage were a cover band for God. You know, the band that plays before the main act to get everyone warmed up. Well in church the main act is God so this was His cover band.

I admit I continued to entertain the thought process because it made me laugh to myself. I was entertained by the thought of everyone jumping up and down in church with lighters held high. Although a bit far out there it did bring a pretty big smile to my face. Especially since I attend a more modestly aged (older) church.

I then moved on from the cover band thought, though it was entertaining enough for a good while, to the tithe/giving song. What was this for? I then started thinking of what types of songs we get to hear when passing the plate.

I don’t seem to remember any rock songs or even loud songs being played. Is there a particular type of music that is “best” for giving? Possibly love songs to God or songs about God’s blessings to us. The thought crossed my mind that these are usually songs designed for us to “slow dance” our money to the plate.

As if I was not entertained enough there came the end of the service where anyone who needed prayer was asked to come up and be prayed for. Then came the “end of service” songs. They were a mix of songs that made me want to regale myself in how good this service was and I also noticed it was slower music. Kind of religious.

I must confess I have no idea what the sermon was about but I can tell you where my thoughts finally ended up. My first thought was I think music helps fill the void of silence where the God I am singing about really is. My second thought was what do deaf people do during worship time? Maybe a blog for another time.

By the way some cover bands are better that others…

http://band3.com/3/index.html

In church you often hear the word “unconditional” to describe God’s love for us. I think everyone is assuming that we all have a foundation for what love is and then we imagine that foundation X 10.

What does the person do who has been homeless and abused and has no foundation for what real love is. Where do we start from? It is pretty much the same felling I get when someone describes the church as a family…

As I watch families around me go through the turmoil of loving each other and dealing with such turmoil on a regular basis I find I cannot look to other families for what love really looks like. Maybe I have not seen the right family but for the most part it is not a desire of mine to be involved in that kind of life.

So what does unconditional look like? It is my daughters. I am not dissing my wife as she is most important in my life and will always come before anyone else, I am saying there are conditions of our relationship that do not come with daughters. I know daughters change but as dads we always seem to have a spot in their lives that are reserved for love.

When my first daughter was born I was terrified of her and immediately gave her to God so he could raise her. I would participate but I did not want to the responsibility of making mistakes while raising her.

I was found undesirable and became homeless when I was ten years old. I was the only one that was rejected out of a family of eight and I felt that someone who was worthless as a kid could never be trusted with another life much less a daughter.

So I started my parenting days as an observer watching God raising my daughter as he desired. Over time I became less afraid of being a parent but the most important thing I learned from the watching my daughter was the she did not care who I was or where I had been. I was not rejected as I had feared but loved without reason.

I started to understand my past did not matter and all my previous faults had no sway with her. I was dad and dad ruled. He was to be loved with no reserve. I began to understand what it meant to be loved by God. To God I ruled and he loved me no matter where I had been or what I had done. I was finally getting a grasp of what unconditional love was.

It is the sweetness of a daughter’s hug x 10. Pretty freakin awesome…