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Happy Thanksgiving

Clayton, Davis, Eli and I stayed up late a few nights last week watching the live broadcast of The Presidents Cup together. We heard this song on a new Golf Channel commercial. The guys liked the commercial every time it came on. We listened to the song repeatedly on the way to church Sunday and a few times since then. It seems fitting for Thanksgiving.




Nothing For Granted
By Brendan James

Leave your worries, leave your fears
Leave the doubt you're holding dear
Leave them there, love, by the door
They're no good anymore

Tell your friends you'll see them later
Tell your family they can wait
You're only young once, only dream of
the day that love will steal you away

So run with me down these midnight streets
We will take nothing for granted
Nothing for granted
Come with me, life is short and sweet
We will take nothing for granted
Nothing for granted

Stop the seasons drifting by
Stop believing there's no time
Stop your heart from closing off
I think you deserve it all

Love your future, love your past
Love your body, it's all you have
Love your secrets bottled up
But love them more when you give them up

And run with me down these midnight streets
We will take nothing for granted
Nothing for granted
Come with me life is short and sweet
We will take nothing for granted
Nothing for granted

Gotta get out of your mind
There's so many wonders to find
So many words they could write across your early grave
So come on and open your eyes
I will be right by your side
You will see love lies in everything

Run with me down these midnight streets
We will take nothing for granted
Nothing for granted
Nothing for granted
Nothing for granted
Come with me life is short and sweet
Oh, nothing for granted
Nothing for granted

It all implodes.

One might think that after coming to the realizations that I have written about here, that my life would seem more hopeful and more joyful on a regular basis. For the most part, I am finding this to be true. However, I don't want to give the impression that I used to struggle with things inside and out, but do not any longer. That would be far from the truth. In fact, while the general pattern is "trending upward", there is no guarantee that today or tomorrow will follow this pattern rather than the previous patterns of stumbling failures and fear that I have described as well. In fact, I think that this blog is, in some ways, one attempt for me to honestly face those failures and fears and simply call them as they are.

This is an example, all too real, of how it goes with me...

Ten days ago, I found myself fighting off negative emotions as I was starting my Thursday. I hadn't had any disagreements with Holly or the boys. I felt well (despite Holly still fighting a cold), and nothing big at work was getting me down. However, no matter how much I tried to shake it, my insides weren't peaceful. I thought maybe I was short on sleep, which I tend to let happen, but typically that alone doesn't bring these types of feelings on (it just amplifies feelings when they are present). I had a hunch about what the deal was, but unconsciously (or consciously) I was trying to ignore it.

The truth is, I was afraid. I had been watching and reading the coverage of the Penn State scandal and was finding a gnawing feeling in my gut. It seemed to remind me that the safety of my boys was in many ways, well out of my control, and I was struggling to find the "appropriate" balance of protection and freedom. This lack of control somehow made me feel, in some ways, like I wasn't enough.

I was afraid of things that could happen. I was also afraid of things that I believed should happen.

As I tried to ignore it and continue getting ready for the day, I found voices from all over the place start to gain a grip. The voices came from different times and places, but they were all familiar. Voices from the past, present, and future visited. From the past, the voice that told me I was "Fat Pat" started whispering. I haven't been "Fat Pat" on the outside for about thirty years, but in some ways I am still that twelve or thirteen year old kid who sees himself as less than (or more than, in this case) he should be. If my pants feel a bit tight, that voice can have my ear in a minute. Somehow being aware of this doesn't seem to lessen the power that this voice can have over me on a given day, especially on days where there are other voices.

The voice from the future was telling me that the things I fear are possible, if not likely. Fear, as we all know, is a crazy thing. Little things become big things and rational thinking is sometimes elusive in the face of it. Attempts to talk myself down from the ledge weren't helping and I began to think possibly something had already happened to one of them. After all, what about the troubles Eli began to have with his potty habits a year or so ago? The article I had read the day before said that change in potty habits could be a sign of sexual abuse in small children. It also told me that, statistically, one in far fewer than I wanted to believe would be the victim of abuse. Had I already missed it? What kind of a dad would miss it?

I felt helpless, but I also thought that I should do something. There was something I could do, something I had done a little bit of, but something I needed to do more. I needed to talk to my boys about this. And there was the rub.  I was afraid of this, too. My boys are 11, 9, and 6. How do I talk to these guys about this without giving them more information than I "should"? The older two have reached the age where they may have more questions about sex than I am comfortable answering. I am sure they do. I am not "comfortable" answering any of their questions. I still have questions of my own. Sexuality is powerful, and taboo, and something that everyone else has figured out completely. "But not you", the voices said, like they told me when I was thirteen.

My boys, who basically share a bathroom with Holly and I, were getting ready for school. They asked for help with their hair. They couldn't find their shoes. They told me their pants didn't fit, and I wondered if maybe they were fighting their own fears and voices. As each one continued to need assistance with various aspects of their morning routine, I found myself growing short on patience with them, and therefore, (everyone say it with me) more upset and frustrated with myself. "What kind of Dad are you?", the voice of the present asked. Thankfully, recent experiences (and counseling) have helped me to be a bit more kind to myself in the face of this particular voice. I felt a small bit of comfort as I found a brief renewal of patience with all of us.

But all at once, the voice that told me I was that thirteen year old chubby kid and the voice that asked accusingly what kind of dad I am, were singing three part harmony with the voice of fear that something would happen to my kids, especially if I didn't talk to them. It doesn't seem so powerful now as I write about it, but that morning it was enough to make my insides churn, and I couldn't get a handle on it. The voices seemed too loud, my fears too real, my embarrassment and inadequacy too much. It was imploding.

Looking in the mirror as I left the bathroom, the only solace I took was that I felt I was being as honest with myself as I could, a small (or large) step forward for me.

We made it to McDonald's for the breakfast ritual and again I wasn't in a place where I could gracefully navigate the boys fighting over whose turn it was to sit by me. In fairness, I actually was able to tell them, with Clayton's help, that their fighting was more frustrating than I could handle that day, and that the time together could be spent differently (and more enjoyably) if we could get past fighting for what we thought we had to have and start trusting that our needs would be met. As I shared that with them, I wondered if they were any more capable of succeeding in that than I was.

Breakfast ended up being fun, as almost always, and I got them to school without any more incidents. As I got back in the car to drive to the office, I had a strange combination of voices still going at it in my head. The voices of hope and faith and trust and kindness that have lead me to this place were trying to stay present in the middle of those voices of fear, and shame, and guilt.  They were struggling, to say the least.

I have learned the past few years that the voices of accusation and fear on the inside are pretty strong. It has only been the external voices of human beings, flesh and blood, surrounding me that have been able to bring grace and encouragement and love to me in this conversation. The songs that I am moved by and share here are given legs and meaning in my life by the folks around me. Songs have become reminders to me, when I let them, that there are other voices, good voices. These other voices are ones that I have to listen for, in order to hear them.  The songs, without the continuing presence of friends and family to share in my darkness, failures, and fears (as well as joys and wonder, love and laughter) are more sentiment than power.

So I sat in my car and wished I could call Matt. Matt lives in Cambridge, UK now. We don't talk nearly as much as I want to since he moved. Too many time zones separate us.

Before driving away I grabbed my phone and opened a  new "App" that I had downloaded the night before. I sat there and listened to this song, as it played for the first time, through the car speakers. (caution: lyrics)

To be continued...
(I am beginning to believe I should end every post with this line.)

Happy Birthday Big E!

It is hard to believe our little guy, Eli, is six years old today. He is reading his first books and wiggling his first loose tooth. He has continued to bring us so much joy and laughter. He is "Big E" to all the kids in the neighborhood, even though he is the youngest. As the youngest of three boys, he has grown up so fast, and  he obviously thinks he should do (and nearly can do) everything his big brothers do.

This morning, even though he had been awake for a while, he lay in bed waiting for all of us to bring him his Birthday Waffle and sing "Happy Birthday" to him. Later, he was so excited that as he was getting ready for school he spontaneously would say things he was happy about, now that he was six. I almost lost it when he smiled and said, "Yeah, I am forty-eight inches!"

My prayer for him is that he knows how much joy he has brought to our lives and how much we love him, right now, all 48 inches of him.

Mysterious Ways...

Twenty years ago tonight I walked into the Medical Sciences Library on the campus of IUPUI to meet my wife. Actually, I didn't know she would become my wife. I had never seen her before. It was a "blind date". To be completely honest, I sent my roommate in first to scope the place out. In retrospect, that may not have been the smartest thing to do... But everything worked out, anyway.

When I say "everything worked out", I don't mean it in the "there is a plan for us and one person for each of us" sort of way or in the "every single thing is orchestrated" kind of way. I know far too little to be confident about such things, and some of the things that have happened in our life together wouldn't be in any plans I would have drawn. So, I say "everything worked out" in a much more simple way.  I got the girl. But it really isn't that simple. Because, you see, I got the girl, and so much more.

Obviously, I can't begin to capture twenty years of a relationship in a blog post, or a few pictures, or a song or two, and I won't try to do that here. This post is merely a moment's reflection on the beginning of our life together, and the head spinning wonder I am left with twenty years later. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard said, "life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards." I agree with half of that. I am not sure how much I understand looking back. I love it, and am so grateful for it, but I don't understand it.

The time slips away so secretly, it is disorienting. I didn't realize it had been twenty years (Don't tell Holly. She rarely reads the blog.) until the twentieth anniversary edition of U2's Achtung Baby was announced.  That CD was originally released three weeks after we met, on 11.19.1991.  I listened to it constantly those first few months we dated. I would make the drives from my apartment  at 3218 Nobscot Drive to 2129 Fisher Street, her house in Speedway, and back listening to it over and over. Little did I know that twenty years later those songs would still mean so much to me, and she would mean everything to me.

On the way to see U2 in Chicago

Let me be clear, when I say "she means everything to me", I am not sure I know what I mean. I know I don't mean merely, that she "represents" everything, or without her I couldn't go another day (though I don't want to try),  or that her presence in my life simply points to a greater reality that exists. Because in many ways, I believe that a greater reality doesn't exist. This is reality, and I don't think we realize how great it is. When people ask me if I believe in love, and grace, and forgiveness, and beauty, and truth... I can't separate myself from the life I have lived with her for twenty years. Of course I do. Again, as clearly as I can see it and say it right now, Holly doesn't only represent these things to me that therefore exist in some abstract world. She is the primary means and mechanism (though certainly not the only one) through which I know, experience, and receive these things. When I most need forgiveness and grace, she is there. Watching her live is to watch love and beauty in real time.

A couple of years ago I taped the lyrics to Mysterious Ways, a song on Achtung Baby, to the wall next to my desk in my office. I put them there to remind me, in a way similar to Kierkegaaard's quote, that the view forward may look uncertain, but the view back may hold a bit less anxiety, a little less fear, and a bit more... well, a bit more goodness. The song, like many of U2's, mixes religious and spiritual symbolism with women and love. When I was younger I thought it was cool how they would hide the true spiritual stuff in the middle of these love songs that millions of people would listen to and sing.

Now twenty years later, I think maybe the truth wasn't as hidden or as "spiritual" as I thought it was. I find it a bit ironic that on those drives over to Holly's place twenty years ago I was listening to songs about the love between people, and thinking I was smart because I knew they were really about the love of God. All the while, I was falling in love with the woman who would become the means and mechanism of God's love for me, and for others right in front of me, through much of my life. So now, twenty years later, I see the love of God most clearly as love between and among people. Is this song about the spirit of God or is it about love? I now answer "yes".

Holly was out of town this weekend visiting her mom, who moved back to Indiana following her cancer treatment. While she was gone I was struck by how much different my life seems when she is away. There is something deep in the rhythm of my days that misses her, and I can only sense it. I told her that I realize lately that there is something in me that is comforted, centered, soothed, motivated, and satisfied by having her part of my life. I can't explain it but I see it a bit more. It is, like the song says, a bit mysterious.

Which brings me back to Halloween. Tonight, as per tradition, our boys will dress up and go around the neighborhood getting candy. After that, we will come home and hand out candy (even re-gifting some) for a while. Later the kids will go to bed and Holly and I will talk about that night twenty years ago that we went to T.G.I. Friday's and began a life together. I love the fact that we met on a day that is easy for me to remember, not because it keeps me out of trouble (no chance of that), but because it allows me to stop every year and look back. And that again brings me to the song, and the verse I highlighted a few years ago...

I don't know what it means...

Yesterday, I was sitting in my office between patients. I was watching and listening to this.
 (push play and keep reading).

 I had the volume up in my earbuds as I shuffled papers, reviewed charts, and signed various documents. My associate, Justin (ten years younger than I am) sat across the desk from me shuffling papers and signing charts while he listened to something on his computer about the economy and politics. Every so often the earbuds would come out and he would share interesting tidbits with me about the history of the FED, or things he had learned about the CPI, or this or that presidential candidate. Out of the blue, he told me that he has noticed that as he gathers new information each day his views or ideas change a little bit. He confessed that he realizes he is like most people in this way, no better or worse than others, "just human" (his words not mine). One day he might find that he strongly agrees with the ideas of a certain person or candidate and that later he may find he feels a bit differently about things.

The way he sees "things" changes, some days just slightly and slowly.


As he shared this with me, I couldn't help thinking about how this compares to my job, and, my life. I was sitting in the middle of a typical day at my office, doing what I typically do. On Thursday afternoons I see folks that have had surgery to improve their vision. If all has gone well, they tell me how different the world looks and how things seem so much better than what they had gotten used to. Most tell me that before treatment things had changed so slowly they weren't really aware of it, until something made them realize they couldn't see as well as they wanted. But then, after treatment, the change seemed dramatic. Many find that not only can they see the thing they struggled with better, but everything looks much more vivid. Most say everything looks so much brighter and the world looks more colorful.


As I was thinking about this, Justin pulled out one of his earbuds. His cellphone was ringing, and as he picked it up I could hear his words mixed with the music. His facial expression changed and he flashed a large smile. His voice changed with his expression to talk to Garron, his two year old, in "daddy talk". Through my earbuds, I couldn't hear everything, but I could make out,  "You took a nap in your big boy bed, oh, way to go buddy! ... I am so proud of you! I love you... okay...Tell Mommy I'll see you in a little bit...Bye bye". The earbud went back in and he went back to the business at hand. I glanced at him over the top of my computer,

and I wondered if his worldview had just changed.


My mind started to focus on the faces of my three boys and the days of "big boy beds" not so long ago. Big boy beds, footie pajamas, bedtime stories, and tickle games interrupted my thoughts, and memories played like a music video to the song in my earbuds. Meanwhile, Bono started singing Latin and getting louder. As I listened to him singing I thought, I don't know what these words mean (even though I have Googled it before), but it is beautiful. I could make out L'amore...Love. My heart was beating a bit harder and my chest felt a bit heavy.

As I listened, and remembered,  I realized that to me the world now looks so much brighter and more colorful. Day after day, our worldview can slowly change as we accumulate facts, information, and experiences. But occasionally, and I hope frequently, love will dramatically put things in a much different, much better, much brighter perspective. Somehow things look so much better than what we have gotten used to. I hope that this is what occurs for all of us, being "just human". And I hope it continues. I don't know what causes these changes in life.  I don't know how it happens.

I don't know what it means... but it is beautiful.



Okay. so you don't have to google it, here is the translation.
You say that the river
finds the way to the sea
and like the river
you will come to me
beyond the borders
and the dry lands
You say that like a river
like a river...
the love will come
the love...
And i don't know how to pray anymore
and in love i don't know how to hope anymore
and for that love i don't know how to wait anymore

The Land of Enchantment

We spent a couple of nights this past weekend in Ruidoso, New Mexico.  Some friends of ours let us stay at their vacation home. It was an awesome, but too short, getaway. None of us were ready to leave. I think we all somehow understand how special the time is when we can just be a family devoted to being together. Maybe these photos do a better job capturing this than my words can.