We Are Right Now.

Last week was the annual South Plains Fair. Holly and I take the boys every year. We eat in the FUMC booth. We "win" a few goldfish with some tosses of pingpong balls. We, mostly the kids, ride a few rides, and  we all share a funnel cake. We do it every year and the boys think it is life at its best. I remember having the same feeling at Jubilee Days  back in Knightstown.

 I snapped this shot with my phone on "armband night". Three cans of food and thirty-five bucks lets you ride all night. Clayton and Davis were riding the spinning big chair swing when I took this picture. Eli was standing with me, bravely fighting back tears, because he is not the required 48 inches tall to ride it, yet. Right after they finished this one, all five of us went over and road the Big Wheel in the distance.

Clayton and Holly had worked their shift at the FUMC youth fair booth. The fact that I just typed Clayton and "youth fair booth" blows me away. The days are absolutely flying by. Next year, Eli will be easily past 48 inches and riding the big chair swing. A few years later, Davis will be in the youth fair booth. Just a couple of blinks later, and it will be Eli in youth.

I am so grateful because I feel that recently I have been given a gift, the awareness or ability to see the beauty and significance of these days in real time. I have been given the perspective to see the significance of now. The days have taken on a significance that is greater than the fact that they are fleeting, numbered and limited. They have a depth and meaning simply because they are. Somehow, long ago, in my pursuit of whatever I had been pursuing, I had lost an appreciation for the importance, significance, and beauty of the present. I had long ago developed a posture of working toward something, some nebulous (or well-defined) "someday". What I had given up in the trade was an awareness of the depth, beauty and significance of the present and the people of the present, including myself.

Unfortunately, there were some other things that came along with this mindset. Once I bought the mindset that I was trying to become "something", I somehow also bought the corrolary that I wasn't yet "something". When I looked in the mirror and saw a guy who wasn't quite yet the picture of fitness, or  a guy who wasn't yet full of patience, or a guy who still fights temptations of this or that variety, I internalized that this guy was far from who he "should" be. It was tough to walk away from the mirror without hearing a word of criticism (at its worst), or a pep talk to do better (at its best). Interestingly, I would then see others and everything in this way, and was quick to offer criticism or pep talks depending on how I "was doing".

This same viewpoint of my relationships occasionally created more stress. If things were going smoothly with Holly and the guys, it was manageable. But if things became difficult in any of these relationships (like, daily) then I would see the relationship and myself (and, at times, the other folks involved) as not being what we should be, and therefore being something we shouldn't. This realization added yet more anxiety and stress and sometimes created a downward spiral, it reinforced my own feelings of failure. I would find myself standing in front of the mirror asking (or thinking, but afraid to ask) the question "when will I be the person I am supposed to be?"

Somehow in the middle of all of this, I knew that life was good. I felt very fortunate, or blessed, and I felt lots and lots of love. I would have characterized my satisfaction with life, my marriage, my job, and my family to be very high. But I also was still working for "someday" when things would be, I would be, good, right, acceptable, and loved, the way I am supposed to be. This was essentially the description of what I call my mid-life crisis.

To that point, it had not occurred to me (in a way I could believe) that the answer to the question I asked  of the mirror would come back in some way, "You always have been the person you are supposed to be. You are right now." I am coming to the place where I am believing that response. I think of Eli, fighting those tears of sadness at the fair and I can see him wishing he was 48 inches tall. I pray that he doesn't somehow turn that, as I have in my life, into thinking he "should be" 48 inches tall, and begin to see himself as less than the person he "should" be. Although, as I pray, I wonder if it is inevitable.

We all know that Eli is the height he is, there is no should to it. He just is 46 inches tall, and falls within two standard deviations of the mean height for a five-year old boy. Even if he didn't, there is nothing he can do about it. He just is. As he grows, he will gain the ability to do certain things with height requirements, and he will lose the ability to do other things that have certain height or weight restrictions. All the while, he will be whatever height he is, and he will be powerless to change that. In addition, he will be loved by Holly and I without regard to his height.

Over time he will grow, but for now, he is right where he is. Part of me reacts negatively to this even as I type it, but I wonder if this is not the best measure for myself, and all of us. Over time we will grow, but for now, we are where we are. I have believed that accepting myself as I am was a pretty sure way of preventing me from becoming better (and possibly the fastest way to become something bad). I do not believe this anymore. If Eli accepts himself as 46 inches, he will continue to grow to maturity. In fact, I believe I had reached a stalemate using the old criticism and pep talk technique. That is to say, it wasn't working, if by working I mean helping me become more like I desired to be. Loving myself as I am, or believing I am loved as I am, may be a far better way to enable future change. And I  believe it is a far better way to live, right now.

I now believe that seeing ourselves as we are and calling that "good" might be the closest thing to the truth. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I remember someone else saw us and called us good, very good.

Needle and Haystack Life

The world begins
With newborn skin
We are right now

You’re a needle girl
In a haystack world
We are right now

You breathe it in
The highs and lows
We call it living

- Chorus -

In this needle and haystack life
I’ve found miracle’s there in your eyes
It’s no accident we’re here tonight
We are once in a lifetime

No, don’t let go
Don’t give up hope
All is forgiven

You breathe it in
The highs and lows
We call it living

All is not lost
All is not lost
Become who you are
It happens once in a lifetime

Born for the Blue Skies...

Davis has started his second season of tackle football. I am an assistant coach again this year. Last year we were 0-6, and it was one of the best seasons of athletics I have ever experienced . In fact, I think Davis and I entered a new "season" in our relationship somewhere around that same time, and it has been an amazing thing, for both of us. We both like football, but I think we both love the time together it creates for us, and how that time has changed our relationship.

I took this shot of him two weeks ago before our first game. (note the summer hairstyle, before he got it cut for school)

As I have blogged about before, Davis and I are Switchfoot fans. Last season we listened to their song Stars everyday on the way to practice and before every game. I had told him I used to listen to a song before every game back when I played, a practice I had copied from my brothers, Scott and Mike. Davis was all about it and we frequently challenged the speaker capacity on the Honda Odyssey with the volume up as loud as we could tolerate.

Switchfoot has a new album, Vice Verses, coming out next week. Their first single is called Dark Horses and it is "the song" we have listened to everyday on the way to practice this season. The official video was just released and it is below. Of course, it is best viewed in full screen and with the volume up as loud as you can tolerate.

 We love it.

Everybody. (take 2)

This is Drive-By Truckers (DBT) doing a cover of an Eddie Hinton song.



There will be more DBT soon.
For Everybody (take one) click here.

"And if the night runs over..."

Reasons I love golf (volume 1)

1. It is something I get to do with my dad, my mom, my brother, my wife, and (hopefully) my boys.

2. I get to share it with with friends, like the guy who wrote this and this guy 

3. Major Championships... like this week's US Open at Congressional, the site of this one...

4. Failure, failure, heartbreak, failure, failure, heartbreak...redemption. See number 3. or ask Harrison Frazar

5. These guys...

The kingdom's under siege!

Note: This was originally posted on May 12, 2011 but was lost in a Blogger crash.




It has been a tough few weeks in some ways inside me. There has been a lot going on in our lives, in our house, and in my heart and mind. Now, it hasn't been all bad. Quite the contrary.  There has been much laughter, much love, and there have been many wonderful moments as well. In fact, I can sit at my laptop and type with a fair amount of optimism and hope for the days and weeks ahead to be filled with more of these good things. But life won't be filled with only good things, because it never is filled with only good things. However, I am beginning to think that sometimes it is hard to tell whether things are good things or "not good things". Truly.


For instance, a few months ago, my in-laws moving in with us from Indiana so we could 1. help my mother-in-law recover from surgery and have chemotherapy for cancer, and 2. help my father-in-law continue to live with the effects of a stroke that twelve years ago left him quadriplegic and able to speak just a few words would have seemed like a "not good thing". However, now, after seeing "Grandma W" get to help my boys practice spelling words and help them do their math homework, and after seeing "Colonel" watch the boys ballgames and go hunting with Davis, our eight year old, as he shot a turkey, I am wondering if it is so cut and dried.


In fact, it seems like a life we never would have known, is happening. We have been able to see Aunt Lisa and Uncle Ed and the cousins far more in the past two months. My parents drove over a thousand miles and Holly's brother flew in from Alaska, so that Holly and I could get away for a weekend (with Ed and Lisa). And when I think of some of the emotional ground Holly and I have covered, first painfully apart and then growing together, I realized I had only dreamed we would be this close.


But I would be kidding myself (and you) if I didn't acknowledge that I have felt a fair amount of frustration and anxiety the past few weeks. The frustration has most frequently been directed at myself, and at times, at those I love (followed obviously by more frustration at myself) depending on the moment.  The anxiety is far more mysterious in its origin and its focus. They can, however, both come in waves. At times they are only a gentle lapping on the shore that I can work around or go to higher ground as they break. At other times they are big enough to wipe out the sandcastles I have built, the expressions of love I have created in the shifting sand that is our daily lives and relationships. Occasionally, for short times, the anxiety and frustration both disappear, only to leave me wondering if they are gone for good or if it is the drawback before the tsunami.


But this spring, the only waves in Lubbock are from 40 mph winds across what is left of the playa lakes. The only water here is in my simple analogy. It has been hot and dry, bone dry. It is certainly a dust land. The boys wrote "Happy Mom Day" to Holly in the dust on her car last Sunday.


Which brings me to this video and one of the songs making up the soundtrack to our lives these past few months. It is Dustland Fairytale by The Killers, and coincidentally (yeah, sure) this performance was two years ago tonight on David Letterman. I love the full orchestra, the sheer intensity of Ronnie Vannucci as he attacks the drums, and the way that the emotion hits Brandon Flowers so hard he has to get up on his toes to follow his voice as he sings of the kingdom. This song obviously means something, to him. Watch this...


There are a few lines in this song that moved me the first time I heard it.

"Change came in disguise of revelation, set his soul on fire
She says she always knew he'd come around
And the decades disappear like sinking ships
But we persevere, God gives us hope
But we still fear what we don't know. 

The mind is poison."

I thought this was describing my journey these past few years with the "soul on fire" stuff much of what I associated with being "tied to a rocket". A few weeks ago we were driving down Broadway's brick street to church. Holly confessed, while we discussed the changes we were facing, that the "unknown" was what she "feared the most". I played this song for her as we finished the drive to church, and by the time we got there, we didn't really even need to go in.

"Now Cinderella, don't you go to sleep

It's such a bitter form of refuge
Why don't you know, the kingdom's under siege
And everybody needs you"

Until recently, as I had listened to this, I had, in my mind played the part of Cinderella. The challenge was and is for me to not "go to sleep", but to stay "wide awake" as my friends, Bono and Matt, say. I think part of me "goes to sleep" when I begin to see myself, my circumstances, and eventually a bit of everything as "not good". I can see almost everything with a critical mind, but this kind of critical thinking is dark. This kind of sleep is certainly a "bitter form of refuge". I know the "valley of the great divide". I can spend a fair amount of time there, and when I let myself, my heart and mind go to this place:

"Out where the dreams all hide

Out where the wind don't blow
Out here, the good girls die
And the sky won't snow
Out here, the bird don't sing
Out here, the field don't grow
Out here, the bell don't ring
Out here, the bell don't ring

Out here, the good girls die"


A couple of guys I listen to (Ryon and Shane) both said this week that this is seeing the illusion of life instead of seeing its reality. Sometimes for me it seems just the opposite! They suggest that being "Dis-illusioned" is what allows us to be "wide-awake". As I understand them, this "seeing" lets me realize I am loved far more than I could ever realize. It let's me know that in my moments of anxiety and gusts of destruction fueled by frustration, I am carried even then. It suggests to me that maybe this frustration and anxiety inside is as much a part of the siege against the kingdom as those things that begin to get us down in the first place, and that the response of the kingdom to all of it, to every bit of it, is simply love. I can hold on to this, or be held onto by this, for a good long while.


And then the news hits again, this time that one of my best friend's wife has breast cancer. Though the fear and pain are palpable, I witness and participate in an onslaught of love, support, and presence in the midst of this pain. I haven't seen this much love and support since... well, since Holly's folks moved in with us, only eight weeks ago.We were bombarded with love from near and far. We still are. And now, we give back.


One source described the song Dustland Fairytale as the story of Brandon Flowers' parents. He wrote this song about their life and, specifically, the way he saw his mom's fight against (coincidentally) her cancer. His mom is Cinderella leaving the party to put on a nightgown, and he begs her not to go to sleep, not to give in to the siege of the kingdom, pleading "everybody needs you".


Clearly the kingdom is under siege. And love is its only defense. The siege may be both the sleep of death and the sleep of seeing the illusions of this life instead of seeing the gift of the reality of today, and the love that it offers. They both seem like to death to me. And at times I struggle to believe that there is a life beyond either one. Tonight, I pray that these beautiful women, Nancy and Amy, and their loved one's, myself included, can stay wide awake.


I am going to stay awake long enough to watch this video one more time tonight. On second thought, tonight, if I'm carried, maybe I won't go to sleep at all.

Too Much For Me Alone To Keep

We pulled out on 65
To Birmingham on a Tuesday night
With your broken leg and favorite song
'Julie, Julie' we sang along

And our tired eyes pulled up the drive
Could hear the phone ring on the other side
Of your front door that your hands made
She was so surprised we came

And we talked about babies names
Halloween in the pouring rain
I fell asleep on the couch
Through the walls you kissed a mouth
And I know what it's like

Because everyone that I know
Every place that I go
Every story that I'm told
Its love
Its love
It's love that we're looking for

There's an outcry in the streets
Where the outcasts walk the beats
And all the widows and black sheep lay their souls down low to sleep
And I can hardly find the means
For all the words I mean to speak
But still this fire inside of me
Seems too much for me alone to keep
But now the writing's on the wall
Forgotten Krylon cans
Will you send a prayer for me?
Will you help me to stand?
Because I know what it's like

Because everyone that I know
Every place that I go
Every story that I'm told
Its love
Its love
It's love that we're looking for

Da da da da da da da da'

-Mat Kearney