Holding Back Time

Here is Beauty holding back Time..... an absolutely beautiful piece of art.  One can feel the tension of forward momentum that Time is showing, even a bit anxious..... to be moving on.

Have you ever felt this way?  Wishing you could hold back the hands of time.....or lingering too long in the way things were?

I spent a good chunk of time in my youth trying to hold back the past.  I kept going back in my mind's eye.... I had too many beautiful experiences in too many foreign lands to let go of so easily.

I was that teenager practicing soaking in moments, memorizing each detail, the smells, the air, cloud formations, what people were wearing, what things looked like.

Time.... Sometimes it moves so slowly -- waiting at the DMV for an eternity (especially those days before smart phones!) But then contrasting that with your own kids.....Way different.... with kids it is one quick moment, whisking by like a cat's whisker faster than we can see, faster than we are every ready for -- when my first graduated from High School I only realized then that in just 4 more years all the of rest of them would be out of the house.

We say things like:  "Don't waste time"....  "Make the best of each moment"  Time is important.  We associate it with how long we will live...to some it defines not only life, but their existence as well.   Some "experts' say don't live in the past....forget what happened, only look forward.

We use time to measure all kinds of things... maybe it is God's way of thinking we are in control... setting limits for tests and teenage curfews, pregnancies, detention and time outs, when we are done with school etc....

 I think time is just a measure of a memory... when an experience begins and ends.

What if time were a series of innumerable books on an eternal bookshelf.  Not chronological.  No, just recorded "moments" yes...even "memories".  All of them already lived out and recorded.  And anytime we could just go to that "moment" and see ourselves living it out.  learning by watching ourselves in that moment.

Is time just something that brushes past us fleetingly?  It seems as if we are constantly struggling against it.  Like a the pull of a tide....constant pressure, misunderstood tension.  We let it do terrible things like measure goodness and badness, often it is a heaviness of regret, dormant dreams, drowned desires.....things not done.

Or are they just things that did get done.... the 10,000 activities, tasks, so that we could say things like "we did it" , "see how much we accomplished"......Life's mother of all checklists.

I think time should be savored, like a delicious sips of chocolate milk....  sipping a thousand memories....

So I say let time fly! .... release him... your beauty won't fade.  Your beauty is in the memories themselves... carved in, never to fade.  Being your best self in every moment is the way to go... ride time like a bronco buster...!!  Why not?  don't hold back, don't look back.... don't sell yourself short by always wishing the ride was just a minute longer.....  Run to the next one and ride it hard and ride it beautifully..... then sip on the memory later... it tastes better that way.

Post it Notes from Heaven

11 years ago we moved to Centerville, UT from upstate New York.  We bought this fun old historic home.  We moved in Nov' 95 and took this picture on the left with the kids on this grand staircase.  It turned out to be one of those 'keepers.'  We have looked at it a lot over the years.  It represented a new beginning then....  a wonderful new beginning that lasted 11 years.  In Aaron years that is like 2 lifetimes.  Almost left once but held on.  Glad we did.... 
11 years of jam packed life experiences and memories.  The kids are all 'grown up' now... yes, even Lexi... the punk kid is as feisty now as she was then...!    

We are about to close out the final chapter here in this part of the world.  I have a new job that is taking me to San Francisco and leaving the family here in Utah.  I didn't hunt down this job, it really came to me.... It worked itself out as the last couple of opportunities have done... an interesting side story....Just as I was working out details before the offer came through we had a hand written note suddenly show up on our door from a family living in Indiana... Here is what they wrote:

" You don't know us but we have been admiring your home for over 20 years.  We don't know your situation, but if you ever wanted to sell it, we would love to buy it from you."

Woah... Talk about timing... Maybe a coincidence....?  No, we see through coincidences much better these days....  Back in the 90's they may have tripped us up a bit... but not so much anymore.
We felt it was the second little post it note from Heaven nudging us forward.  We have since wrapped up the deal.  I move out in Jan and we all move out of this home in Mar.  So, I try and reflect upon this rapidly closing chapter in our lives.  There are a lot of moving parts to try and hang on to....like a really fast merrygo round....we are mostly just trying to hold on tighter.  But when you are married to the world's greatest project manager, it all comes together pretty nicely.

One unique way we have begun to close this chapter was to take another photo... same place....same clothes..(almost!).... same pose.... same stairs.... but not so same kids.  Landon did a fab job by going to a second hand clothing store to find as close to the same things they wore originally.  We positioned the bears just so too.....  Seeing them all sitting there now, side by side to the original is quite the scene to take in.  One can get caught up in the details of shades of color, smiles aren't quite the same, shadows here but not there, etc... etc...

 I don't see those things.....

I see brothers and sisters that grew together over those years... working things out, helping each others, getting in each other's way at times....fighting over all the same cliche things that every family deals with. They all 4 played all 4 years of High School soccer.  They cheered each others games, they went to each others' plays.  They terrorized the neighborhood together.  Their personalities went in all different directions.  Despite that, they learned to pray, they learned to get a long.  They excelled in everything they chose to do. .  Together they conquered all that was placed in front of them.  They achieved their goals.  Most importantly, they all grew testimonies of Jesus Christ each in their own way, in their own pace, in their own space.  They have blessed so many lives just be being their best selves, most of all their Mom and Dad. 

I look at them and see the same togetherness and love that has glued them altogether through this collective experience we have had together.  It feels right... it hurts good.

So, we try and find the last few words on this the last page......  Each one carries a world of emotion, each one reflects the immense gratitude we feel to God, for guiding us here, and for everything we found and did.  We close it not with regret, not with longing or looking backward... we pause to pose, one last time to close out this chapter with a picture... a picture that conveys a thousand words. Well done kids.... thanks for making it so perfect!

New Grass part 2

This new grass thing has me smiling every time I go outside... I took a pic today.  Had to express my joy in seeing this new color spring up and out.  Obviously I didn't consider the same type of seed...he he.... oh well.  To me it doesn't matter, to see these little guys like a little Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, stretch out and try and fill in all the blanks is pretty exciting.  

This either means my life has become so dull that it only takes a few seeds to sprout to make my day, or that I am just that lame.....yes, I have become a......lawn nerd!

So, one last little gasp of verbal joy....   I love you little green guys, poking out with new energy as if you can't wait to experience life.   It is actually hard to go over you with the mower... weird, but true.

I just want to thank you... for giving me so much hope, that broken things that be beautiful again,  in fact, just like Kintsukuroi.... Now everytime I look at the lawn I will see the new patches, the places that have been grafted into the whole and will remember the impactful lesson I learned about second chances.  No matter how barren, no matter how improbable your situation may seem... there seems to always be a way out.  Not always on our time table, not always in the ways we think, but there is always a way... I have more faith today than yesterday.

I prayed before I cut some trees done, which I have never done before, so that angels would push the limbs in the right way, that I would cut the tree in the right place, that no damage would occur to our neighbors or to any property.... including "us".   It went perfectly.... way more than it should have.  Everything I do includes rework...not this time.  I never expected to have so many lessons on faith working in my yard.  So, thanks to the tree angels that helped guide the soft landings.....and thanks for God's creations that provide cool learnings....   


love it......

Beautifully Broken....Kintsukuroi

I am trying to remember exactly when it was that I became aware that people, not just things.....could actually "break."  In Indonesia, as a kid, I saw plenty of poor people, beggars even, that lived broken lives....most of whom made tiny homes out of broken boxes, sticks and rocks to hold down thin corrugated sheets of metal for their roofs.   I didn't know about being broken on the inside.....That was different.....My 10 year old eyes couldn't see that 'far'.

Maybe it was when I saw what a bad break up could do to someone... a boy broke my sister's heart in High School.... I didn't understand the depth of pain, but I didn't need to, I just had to watch to know what that could do.  I remember experiencing the betrayal of friendship, hurt feelings from a family member, physical and emotional scarring caused by worldly vices, crippling low self-esteem, co-dependency....the desperate clinging to the wrong kind of love and affection.....and others......

Through personal experience, I started to see people differently.  I could start to see more on the "inside" then before.  What became the most revealing, was the transition of awareness in seeing others to that of seeing my own "brokenness".... Ouch!  That was a painful realization.  How did those things come into my life? How did they sneak in there?  How did I not see it?  I remember the series of events that led me to a very profound visual of the eggshell of a foundation that I thought was so much stronger than it really was.  I remember watching the eggshell crack literally beneath my feet....I didn't know how to stop the slipping or the eventual fast paced free fall to "truth".....real truth.  There I found a mirror that I didn't know existed or ever thought I would have to look into. This was Heaven's mirror, helping me to see who I really was and to challenge what I really believed in.   I struggled with the wrong definitions the world propped up in front of me -- of love, goodness, and personal worthiness.  I placed labels and values on my brokenness.... I couldn't be worthy of love and acceptance if I had these particular broken parts could I?  They were "bad" -- so therefore, I must too, be "bad."

I didn't know exactly where to start, to put the broken pieces back.  I actually believed for longer than I should have, that I couldn't really be put back together.... or if I did, then it wouldn't be the same "product" as before... it would be "defective"... Something you would find at a discount or outlet store... second hand quality.  It was very easy for me to find comfort in that space.... I didn't have to work that hard... it was pretty easy to believe in an alternate path and just "coast" in autopilot.  No thinking, no feeling, no steering... just letting things happen to me, instead of actively engaging in moving forward and upward.  I spent a lot of time deciding to accept the broken variety of Aaron.  I was still ok..... not shattered.  But I couldn't see the way through the pieces around me.

Then there was this person..... Not sure how, but they saw through me... they didn't see the pieces, they just saw my heart, they saw what I could become, not what I was.  They didn't look back, like I liked to do, they only saw......beauty. Part of me responded to that, part of me couldn't really believe it.  No, I can't really let myself totally believe in this new golden picture of myself.  That would mean giving up all these false beliefs about what I thought I was get rid of the map that led me to an alternate destination.  I had become comfortable with my collection of hangups.....That was harder than I thought to do..... It was easier to accept the broken me than to believe I could be whole, or even better than before.

In Japan, there is an art form that puts broken pottery back through application of lacquer mixed with powdered silver, platinum or gold.  It is called Kintsugi or Kintsukuroi "golden repair." More profound, is that it's philosophy treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.  A philosophy that embraces the flaws and the imperfect.  An amazingly different perspective than most of the world would offer.  Highlighting the cracks and wear as simply an event in the life's journey of an object rather than seeing it at the "end" of it's usefulness or existence because of the damage.  Not only do they acknowledge the flaws, but they honor and value them!  As in the image above, 

the repair is actually illuminated by the gold lacquer

....what a stunningly beautiful concept.

I for one, can share with you that it is an unbelievable feeling to be lacquered with gold powder and be illuminated with hands and eyes so loving. To be good as new.....no, to be 'better than ever.'  To loosen and let go of the robe of shame and guilt and to be a new kind of shiny.  I couldn't have ever done it myself.  I needed help...I still need help.....How do I ever in this lifetime, or with words that will never convey the deep and sincere gratitude for those who see what I could not?  For those that went from seeing to piecing me back together, that never gave up, what do I say to them?  What words do I choose?  What gift can I give?

I can be my best self and I can return the favor by seeing all those around me as they can become, not just who they were yesterday and who they are today...

Learning about Kintsukuroi has done one particularly important thing.  It has heightened my awe, reverence and hope of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.  The parallels are very strong and interesting.

I know all the cracks, flecks, uneven lines and damage that makes up my particular piece of pottery.  I see my gold lines with a different view these days..... .  I have been and will continue to be beautifully broken.  There is no other way....

The Days of Wine and Roses

Do you ever get hit by a wave of nostalgia that either knocks you off your feet or leaves you breathless and then afterwards find it hard to stand up straight and get your bearings as you linger in the intensity of the reverberations of a single moment of a time gone by....?  How is it the ripple affect continues on even now, much later...? How can it leave such a mark?  Did those moments really occur? Or do they seem like distant dreams now.....?

I have been completely overwhelmed by nostalgia in the past few days.... This time round I think the experience of soaking in the rays of heady halcyon days of the past has actually left a physical mark...much like the sun, overexposure for sure, maybe even a bit of  'saudade' sunstroke.... When these powerful moments come knocking on my door I welcome them in, they are friends, they feel like home.... so it is hard for me to let them know that the hour has grown late....that the time has arrived for them to leave....so that I may return to the land of the present, and somehow recover from it all. They don't leave easily... You don't really want them to leave......you both want to languish and linger and squeeze every drop out of each remaining moment....

The inevitability of tomorrow's reality check always wins out, but the mind can always soar again.....later.

How can one single photo cause such a tsunami?  The power of one image, one smell, one song, one freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, one glance.... incredible!  What emotions they can trigger, even those ones that you put away deep in the closet and locked up long ago.... Bang!! The doors fly wide open and there you are....all over again.  You watch the movie again, for the 1,000th time, and it never gets old.  It reminds you that you did live, that you did love, that you did matter, that you did contribute somehow, some way to someone else's experience and life.....after all.

Those moments where the bliss is so exquisite, the pain so engulfing..... the meaning so deep. Add them all up....and maybe you hold 5 or 6 seconds worth in your hands, compared to your whole life's clock, but they are the few 'seconds' that were the most revered, most loved, most magical, the one's that almost give your entire life it's earthly meaning.  Fleeting, yet full....yes, very filling...to the brim.
These moments are part of what one poet captured with this beautiful phrase:  "The Days of Wine and Roses"

There is something that happens inside me when I read this poem, especially the second paragraph. There is a contented melancholy that haunts me.  The words are not depressing to me, nor are they by any means overly positive either.  They just.... are.  They depict well, at least for me, how I think about those particular days... simple, beautiful and brief... as they should be, but big enough to swallow me whole every single time.

                                                                                                                                                                               They are Not Long

Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate;

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

   

They are not long, the days of wine and roses,

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes

Within a dream.

                                         Ernest Dowson                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  What I love is that I relate to the poem.  I am a dreamer, I take emotional journeys often, but I can relish the fact that my worst days of hate won't be long, neither are the Icarus-like soaring moments of bliss either....Even James wrote this in the New Testament: 

"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."  James 4:14

Sketching the Soul

Hey Roland, it is me again.  You didn't know I was going to be talking to you a lot did you?  Neither did I.... I hope it is ok.  Somehow, I feel as if you are just "there".... that you can hear me, not my thoughts, but my words as I softly talk out loud.  I visited Dad in the hospital this week. He is doing ok... I thought of you....  I am sure you were close by. I won't forget those 3 days with you.  Much like the images of 9/11 will never leave me, neither will those 3 days.

I wonder if you miss it here?

 "Is it possible to miss a place you've never been? To mourn a time you never lived?"

I think about what you would have done had you stayed.... I know there would have been more art.  I wonder what of?  It would have been good, that is all I know.

  

I found a picture, rather a sketch I drew so many years ago... I decided to go with you to one of your college classes at the U.  It was an art class.  You taught me during that entire class how to draw a face... so complicated... where the eyes needed to be.. so much lower on the page, in fact, I remember they were really right in the middle... because you said we forget how much forehead space there is...that the eyes need to be drawn in the middle.  Then there were other things... lips... how hard to draw, ears and nose as well... How to shade in the right places... so nuanced.   Mine ended up looking like a horrible germanic-looking mannequin... but every stroke of that pencil was guided by your coaching.  I kept that face all these years....not because it was my drawing... but because it was all about you.

I could use some coaching now....can you tell me how to chart my next few moves?  I have been wondering how to sketch the next few years and am not sure how to start this drawing....  I am not so sure of myself.  I can't connect the dots so well.   Do I move?  Do I do something different?  Where do I pour my time?  I want to connect, but not sure where...?  I know you wouldn't give me the answers, just like you wouldn't draw that man's face for me, rather you would ask me a few questions.... to see what would I would find...  I have to decide if I am ready for that...to listen that closely while you whisper them to me.... I know that is the way, but I am not gonna lie, I wish you could just put your arm around me and tell me....

I wish you could tell me what do do more of, what to do less of... so I better know how to do what you are doing now.... I wonder... 

Your sketches must be amazing now!  I can only imagine the creativity and quality you render them with now... freed from earthly and human limitations... I imagine you are able to sketch people in such beautiful new ways... to draw them as they truly are, with pure eyes.  You would draw their best spiritual selves... What would that look like?You must see differently....to watch you now would be a gift.  

Maybe you would let me pull out a new sheet of paper, and then tell me now, as you did so patiently then....where to draw the lines, where to draw hard, and where to barely touch the paper, slowly bringing lines and curves of a pencil to life....this time drawing the spirit in those you see....something finite, yet so fine that mortal eyes can't see.  What it would be to see through your eyes now?....I will close my eyes and imagine... squinting just a bit to see if I can really see you, sitting just there...hoping I can, see you put pencil to paper again, perfectly as you see through those amazing eyes of yours....

Love you Roland, for playing the artist's part so well.   I will keep my drawing.... I will look at it from time to time to see if I learn anything new.  Maybe you will whisper something each time I unfold it in the future.... I can't wait.

New Grass.... Second Chances

Ick.... I know... patchy grass that just seems to keep taking over more and more of the lawn.  This has been happening to a section of my lawn over the past year.  There is definitely a powerful disease afoot.  I have tried sprays, powders, more water, less water, fertilizer, man-made and organic chemicals.  It has been very elusive and I have even tried throwing sod over it.....uh huh....no go.  I have gone to the so called experts at the landscape outfits..... I am sure I just didn't execute the formula with enough discipline.... I think I have, but with no results to show...  I have decided I have possessed and vexed grass and that it is to make me suffer for some stupid 'sin' of the past.  I think it actually knows that I am at my wits end and have even uttered a few colorful metaphors that would cause a bit of a "oh" look on those that think they know me.     

I have even looked heavenwards on a few occasions wondering if God is paying attention to my plight! No real praying has occurred yet, 'cause that would actually mean I would have to really get serious on my end of things and I am not sure my lawn deserves my "best!"  Hah!......Rather, I resemble something more like a dismal victim-like lawn loser hoping some angelic being will descend and cause a mighty intervention.....I mean, shouldn't this be on the top of God's list of things to worry about??

When it comes to the physically hard things in life, I am not the "long view" guy typically.  So, this being a longer term bur under the saddle I have resorted to becoming comfortable with discomfort--a poor man's excuse for not dealing straight up with stuff......

....... until recently.

Thank goodness for small moments of inspiration that come when least expected.  It was the last week before school started.... All my kids were home, which is becoming less and less of a regular occurrence..... I started to wonder what they might be learning from me before they go off to their respective university and school.   It came to me that if any of them had been watching me like a fly on the proverbial garden wall this past year, they would have given me a C- grade at best for my "lawn" efforts.   That started to bug me....With that context and in that moment, I girded up my loins and had a little self talk --  I concluded that I hadn't 'done' my all... I hadn't brought my best.  I was justifying my efforts as "good enough" -- the truth is that I had not exhausted all possibilities, even though my lesser self had convinced my better self that I had. Justification, what a powerful disease....  I thought about all the life's lessons had crossed our families' path.... all the learning moments, the little metaphors that we use to teach our kids......others......and my own self.   It took me longer, but I was startled at the sudden realization of almost wasting a perfect metaphor -- to learn from and then to maybe share with others.  Stupid grass.....now I had to really buckle down and get serious......yes even "grow up."   Dang, why do I suck at that so bad?  Being mature can really kick my backside more than I would like to confess.  

I decide to do the whole 9 yards... pull out the yellow grass, prep the soil, rake, remove debris, soften the earth, sprinkle the mixture of fescue (cool technial grass term!), fertilizer, and peat moss in each spot.  Even the tossing gesture was practiced and rehearsed...Ha!  I then did the careful light spray of water at the right time of day and night.  Never letting it get dry...always moist.  I watered with more intent, more hope, more earnest.  I didn't play the silly game of thinking there would be grass in 24 hours... the quick fix syndrome we play in our lives.... "See God, I just did one good deed, where is the blessing??? I steeled myself to not even pretend to look or expect any result until 10 days had passed.  Just do the routine and don't miss.... every day.......

On day 11 I just finally let myself just take a peek not expecting anything..... I couldn't believe it!!  There were these little green pokies that were stretching like an inch tall out of the ground....holy moly!  I could not believe it.  These are things that do not happen to me.... not in this realm.  I turned into an 8 year old that just got new sneakers!!  Look everyone... look how fast I can run!  Look at how powerful I am ...... Look how great I am ......Look at what I can do....Look at me....Look at me!



And just as I was beating my chest I felt the familiar climb of that silly lump.....up into my throat.  Yes, the enormity hit me....   

Look everyone.....look how fast He will respond, when we do our part......   Look at the powerful way He teaches..... Look how long He will wait... for me.... and for you, to make your way over to that winning lane.... Look how He respects our choice so much that He will let us stumble, tumble and fall for a while, until we decide to do right things right and then He never leaves us without the lesson, so subtle, simple and beautiful....Look at how great God is...!  Look at what He can do.....Look at Him.....Look to Him. 

I never expected new grass to help me learn about second chances.   Our lawns are like our lives after all.. we have been given a plot to take care of in this life.  We tend to it.  We weed, we water, we care, we toil, we prune, cut and trim, we grow, we reap, we imagine, we feel, we create, we share with others.  Lawns, like life, need us.  We neglect and they shrivel.  If we don't learn to care for something else besides ourselves, they die.... and maybe in God's infinite and simple wisdom, we need them maybe even more......  Once we right ourselves and do the work, lawns almost always come back, they respond like soldiers to the rigor and routine.  Very cool.  

My life is my lawn...I know my life and all those in it definitely deserve my best... why shouldn't my lawn then?.... I have had the brown spots, the diseases, the yellow thatchy grass that spikes.  I wouldn't be here without second chances.  I wouldn't be here without new grass.  All of you have been part of that journey... thank you for never giving up on me. I never will on you......

So...back to my kids... Never give up... keep trying.  You will never fail.  

Heaven: Arriving or Becoming?

They were teaching: "Justification vs Sanctification" a few Sunday's ago in church.   Kinda big bible-like words which I have heard many times throughout my life...  One of those deals that when you hear someone smart explain it once, you are all like "Oh yeah! I got it... I can explain that no problemo next time"   Then the next time you hear it you are like "Uh... what does that mean again?"  And the cycle repeats.  This time it was different.... at the end of all the talking, some smart person finally dumbed it down for me and it came out like this: 

"Arriving" vs "Becoming"   

Ah... that was different... That sat with me a whole lot better!  Much easier to wrap my head around and grind upon what that could mean.....

How many of us are just hoping to "get there".. meaning heaven, or whatever life's ending destination might be defined as...  There is Nirvana, Valhalla, Moksha, Svarga Loka, Heaven, or yes.... even the Grey Havens.   It seems most religions talk, profess and create an interest in returning, finding, attaining or arriving at some almost geographic-esque place.  Some of these aren't just physical locals,  but at times resemble spiritual or meta-physical places.....at the end of the day......most seem to be destinations generally speaking.It was suggested that maybe we should be focusing on "becoming" vs. "arriving".....

Arriving suggests that one might be "done".  Like, stop working so hard, you have finished...The final task completed, while "becoming" infers.....not quite yet....in fact, it really speaks to complete opposite....that of -- never ending or forever progressing.

Watching the Olympics these past few weeks was an amazing experience.  My heart soared so many times!  I tried to watch everything I could.  I am drawn to the games every 2 years. There is something about world class athletes that can break world records and be at the top of their respective "game" and yet, still want to achieve....more.  They aren't satisfied. They keep fine tuning their "machine."  They never stop.... they never "arrive."  They continue the journey of "becoming."  Do we do that? Or do we become comfortable with a "good day's work?"..... procrastinating our potential of today for that of tomorrow.....maybe, if we feel like it.  What is it that would push us to new heights each day? What would the motivation be?  

What I love about all religions that I know of...limited for sure....is that there is always a sense of progression, enlightenment, or transformation into something kinder, wiser, better.... that pushes man to new heights.  Maybe the God I believe in, is my wise coach, seeing in me what I can't... whispering inspiring thoughts through spiritual means to help me be my best, and maybe your version of God is doing the same to you.

I think I am 'becoming'..... a bit more each day.  Often I can't tell if I have digressed, certainly feels that way at times.  But overall, I look back once in awhile and at least I am still on the track, running for that elusive sub 4 minute mile.  As long as I am in the pack, with my eyes set on the prize, I will continue to run.  I don't have to beat Usain Bolt's time, I just need to beat my last best time.  Paul I think understood well:

"For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 7I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: 8Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing."           2 Timothy 7

Here is to me finishing my race well... and to you and yours....

The Agony and the Ecstasy

"On a scale of 1 to 10....how would you describe your pain?" 

Have you heard this familiar question from the nurse or Dr. on a recent visit?  It is a regular question that is always asked.   Dr.'s have been trained to manage pain.  Unfortunately, they have gotten really good at it.... too good!

Last year, Landon shadowed a neurosurgeon and watched patient after patient answer this question..... In almost every case, pain pills were administered.  It has become the single most asked question of patients. Pain management has become the soup du jour.   What Landon saw, in his opinion, was a lot of prescribing to patients that had just become reliant on them as a lifestyle.  A lifestyle that had blurred the senses enough to continue the continual partaking of that comfortable "cocktail".  He left that day wondering if that was the future he was heading into after med school.  My point isn't to judge the medical community or people for that matter....what do I really know?  All I do know is that we have an epidemic on our hands a new culture around opioids has been created and very difficult now to overcome.  A friend of mine worked on one of the flagship court cases trying to address this issue.  Alannis Morrisette may have actually understood irony after all, not because of her song "Ironic" but rather because of "Jagged Little Pill".

I remember when I first was diagnosed with a herniated disk the sciatic pain I was experiencing was very painful and uncomfortable and I welcomed relief greatly.  I was also very conscious of the fact that I did not want to stay on them for long.  It can't be easy to reconcile, this tension that has edged more dangerously into the realm of real contention - will of mind over body.  While the battle rages on now in the courts, I have come to realize that we are all dealing with different kinds of pain.  Life has its' own continuum and we are all on that scale somewhere suffering in our own ways.

Losing someone dear can be all-consuming.  Losing a friend, or loved one is impossible to sort through without feeling an enormous set of emotions that run the gamut of pain levels.  

“
We all lose friends.. we lose them in death, to distance and over time. But even though they may be lost, hope is not. The key is to keep them in your heart, and when the time is right, you can pick up the friendship right where you left off. Even the lost find their way home when you leave the light on.                                                                               
 Marie Walz

I have a dear friend in Argentina that lost a son a couple of months ago.  I try and think about losing any one of my four kids and I literally lose my mind trying to think about processing that prospect.... It is literally a mindscathing agony.... I can't do it.   I hope to never know what she is still going through.....

Is losing a friend to hurt feelings that much different than losing someone to death?  

“

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.     

Joseph Roux

What pain are you experiencing right now? What is your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?  Is it on the surface of your skin, pulsating through your nerves, aching in your muscles or is the deep hurt in your heart?  I know you are experiencing some level of it right now, in your individual way that no one will probably ever understand...  I wish I could help....

It is ever-present and seems to be lurking around corners ready to surprise anyone.  

I have been reflecting on the role pain plays in our lives.  I think there is more to it than I realized.....
It seems that on one end it the spectrum, at least one of its purposes is to alert of us trouble. It lets us know there is something wrong.  The more I have thought about it, I think pain is the great protector in our lives. it keeps us whole, it keeps us safe, it keeps us aware and careful.....This is a good thing.

Here is how I have been processing it:

The ache in my stomach tells me I have eaten something bad.... the ache in my back tells me to lay down, the ache in my hand tells me to let go, the ache in my side tells me to slow down, the ache in my head tells me to sleep, or stop thinking so hard...  As for the ache in my heart, at times it reminds me that I have loved and have lost.  That I have been misunderstood....or that I just haven't been "seen" yet for all that I truly am.  This deep pain could also mean a reflection of a truly amazing season, cosmic and magical but has slowly faded into a faint memory that seems like a whisper....hard to hold onto, like slippery rope.   Maybe the pain is "saudade", a strong longing for the nostalgic past that feels like a constant, dull melancholic pain because it will never be reached or lived again...?

There are those moments when it hurts with such intensity that you can't get what you need to out...there are just no words, no vocabulary, no voice.  But it is clear inside your heart and only you know how it feels, but just can't describe well enough.  The memory stings some and chokes you up.

What about the agony of not knowing,  or ignorance...... Is that really bliss?  Only to find out "later"....much later that you should have known something sooner....'cause it would have really helped.  There is the pain of not being able to go back, to rewind the tape, stop those stupid words from flowing forth...... Or trying to restrain the rising rage of being 'right' with the wrong volume, or to refrain from the choices that led to tears and misery.

There is no nobleness in suffering, but there is purpose in pain....... it seeks us out and we seem to hide from it.... behind corners, in the dark.  We soften our minds with amber-colored liquids and little pills from pretty packaged bottles from wrong places....we blur it out, 'cause we are afraid.  We can't stand the thought that we could be so human, so fragile and vulnerable.  Pain is the ultimate seeker.....and yet when it finds us, we so often cannot accept it's gift of knowledge and truth, no matter how scalding it is.  It is the mirror of what has happened, what is happening now and protects us from the future...
One can never know the magnitude of reconciliation unless the gap of loss is too great to understand, unless the pain be too precisely profound.... and true.  The agony and ecstasy of pain hitting its' true mark....
 
I love people who have learned from their pain.  They have mastered it.  They don't play the useless game of wishing it away, or hoping it will never come, or the dangerous game of "what if" or regret.... Pain always comes to visit, and for too many it seems to linger too long.... So, 'Bravo' to those who bear it so well and have let it guide them towards light instead of fear.  We are all watching you and hoping we can be as brave... 

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding."

"Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its' heart may stand in the sun, so you must know pain."                                                                     --Gibran

Who is this Man...?

Who is this man.....a farmer's son from nowhere Arizona that had deep passion for classical Spanish literature?

A man who related to the stories of El Cordobes, Don Quixote and others.... A man who ALWAYS cheered for the underdog, the one who no one thought could...or should succeed.  The fight of the individual to overcome all obstacles was very important and became part of this man.... it became part of how he viewed the eternal potential of every individual.  He not only appreciated it, he counted on that philosophy really working!  It was a new truth among many others he adopted and treasured throughout his life.

This man reminds me of the great Cordobes....unorthodox and special.  Spain's greatest bullfighter, who brought his own particular flair.  He came from poverty, but dreamed about all possibilities.  He wanted to be the best and became that.  The people loved him, the purists hated him.  He fought against Franco's tyranny.....No wonder my Dad loved this story.  His deep empathy for the story of Don Quixote was apparent throughout my life....statues, paintings, music and books were a constant in my youth as I would see and think about them around the house.  It was only when I read "I'll Dress you in Mourning" that I began to understand many things about him:

"Don't cry, Angelita.  Tonight I'll buy you a house, or I'll dress you in mourning."

Who is this man that built his life upon the adoration of another man, his father.....familiar with dirt, grime and sweat?  yes... even a modern day Don Quixote in a way... I used to wonder why this story mattered to him.... I have learned that it does not matter whether Don Quixote is a burlesque story of chivalry, or whether the hero is a madman or an actor.  What matters is that he is set free in our imaginations and discovers for us a new quality about the human spirit. My father understood this and shared this soaring view of man.

No wonder this man could only see in others what they "could" become.  I believe I now finally understand where 'hurting good' originated.

This man is a simple man who imaginated a vision, a vision that transformed his life from a high school Spanish teacher in a small hot desert town to a man who traveled the world bringing big ideas and new ways of thinking to inspire entire countries.  And guess what.... I actually got to watch from a front row seat... it was amazing!

Who is this man... that so beautifully paints life's stories with the color of words in poetry? Words that are known to all, but somehow when he puts them together, they weave a richer tapestry than most.  This man, who breathes wisdom with his words casting them out like a vast fishing net at sea yielding a harvest of so many the nets can't hold them all.

Who is this man.... that quietly, but incessantly pushes boundaries, to find that better way....always making things simpler?

Who is the man..... with a second grader's innocent and simple faith, that overcame barriers to bring truth and light, in places where there was none?

How did he know that constant stretching was the stuff life was made of, not the cushy convenience of "good enough"....?

This man who can sit and simmer, yes even soak in the absolute miracle and beauty of his posterity.  Every new soul that that comes into his line adds to the awe with which he beholds and views each one.

Who is this man who sits with childlike amazement and wonder when any one of his posterity begins to show what they are capable of doing... each step they take forward seems to take his breath away.

A man who knows precisely who he is, where he came from and who he belongs to.  A man with singleness of purpose that would make most men weak in the knees....his aim....laser-like, focused and precise.  And the grandness of his ideas..? They are a wonder.

He will never stop cheering for all the Don Quixote's in the world... he will never believe there are limitations to free will.  He is a passionate fighter of freedom.... a lover of truth.

Who is this man.... who could do almost anything he set his mind to, yet knew from 2nd grade that he could never get to his final destination without relying on Heaven to get there?

He is my Hero...   He is a Savior of men, because the depth of his testament of Jesus Christ has been etched, like permanent ink, in his heart.  His living will and testament is not on paper... it is written, etched and burned into the cells of his beating heart.  

He cannot and will not be denied the realization of his heart's true burning desire to usher all who follow him into God's eternal embrace.

And yet at the end of the day... When all the planes stop... the traveling has ended... no more cultures, countries and customs to learn....there is one last stamp of one last visa that he dreams of:

Little Green Valley

I see a candlelight down in the little green valley

Where morning glory vines are twining 'round my door

Oh, how I wish I were there again down in the little green valley

That's where my homesick heart will trouble me no more

There's only one thing ever gives me consolation

And that's the thought that I'll be going back someday

And every night down upon my knees I pray the Lord to please take me

Back to that little old green valley far away

I hear a mockingbird down in the little green valley

He's singing out a song of welcome just for me

And someone waits by the garden gate down in the little green valley

When I get back again, how happy she will be

And by a little babbling brook, once more we'll wander

And in a shady nook, we'll dream the hours away

And I will leave all my cares behind go where I know I'll find sunshine

Back to that little old green valley far away

This man is my father... a man who makes God's heart 'hurt good.'

Peachy Keen....

I opened up FB tonight and saw this staring me in the face... 

FB decided to remind me of this post  I made when I heard that my brother Roland had beaten cancer.  It was truly a glorious day!  An answer to many prayers.... 

4 months later he passed away from the same disease that came back with a ravaging rage...

Finding it hard to take my eyes off of his image...Looking at him as if he is right there, right now, present--me looking into his eyes wondering when I can talk to him again.....

Peachy keen?   Not so sure....


I miss him.... very much.  

That is all....

30 years later....

I wrote a letter today.... it was about decisions.  It was about how a decision today can have powerful downstream implications tomorrow, or 30 years later.

30 years or so ago, I made a decision to participate in the Hill Cumorah Pageant when I was 18.  That experience awakened many spiritual feelings and emotions that reminded me of who I was and how I might direct my life.  It inspired me to make another decision to serve as a volunteer missionary for my Church.  For 2 years I dove into the culture and language of Portugal.  Mostly I embraced the people.  They found my heart and it has never let them go.

30 years later, I am having sweet emotional and spiritual conversations with those dear friends and acquaintances.  They were special then, they are gold now.

30 years later,  my son is accepted to be on the work crew for the Hill Cumorah Pageant.  He is there as a missionary for 1 month. No cell phones, no phone calls home, only written word.   I wonder each day he is gone, "will he have a spiritual experience as I did?"  "Will he have similar spiritual springboard moments?"  "Will he crawl into "their" eyes as he shares his feelings about the gospel of Jesus Christ with the audience before each performance?"  "Will he be inspired and edified in a way that will leave him never the same again....forever?"

30 years later, he comes home and we receive him with great enthusiasm..... my wondering continues... how will I find out?  Will he tell?   30 minutes into the conversation he begins sharing all the miracle stories that occurred.  I look at him, very closely as he talks... he is different... I can tell.  Something has happened.  Something very quiet, something very deep, something very personal....yes, Heaven has touched him in a way that I understand.  He is wiser, and more mature, he has grown and is ready.... I can almost feel the spiritual battle armor he has been fitted with.... ready for what life has next for him.....   I feel the lump rise in my throat.  I am so grateful that this experience left its mark on him..... Yes, 30 years later, that simple "yes" to the invitation, "Want to go be in the Pageant?" has found a way to bring so much deeper meaning that I could ever have imagined.

30 years later, what will  Braden talk about with his kids?  I hope Hill Cumorah comes to mind as it did me... that the same Spirit he felt there will be right smack there when he needs it as he shares his stories with them... they will spark the imagination, they will be curious.... maybe they will go and he finds himself with the nervous anticipation of wondering if they too will experience what he did....

30 years later, I ponder other decisions I have made... They have all led to where I am right now, in this moment.  All of them have shaped me, they are like little letters I have written myself, helping me to move left, to move right, to stop, to pause, but mostly to fall forward with a perfect brightness of hope and faith.  I take them all, good, bad and ugly--they are all mine, I made them and they have defined me.  They are precious to me, they are my book of life.  I see the downstream implications of them now, reflected in the lives of my kids, just as I resemble the outcomes of my parents' decisions.

I can only imagine the stories your decisions could tell.... I can't wait to see what mine will tell..... 30 years later.

PS: if you want to see what Braden did click here:  Hill Cumorah Setup

Family

I am not sure exactly how it works....  This thing called 'family'.  I do not know the "why" of this particular configuration..... this particular mix, this particular combination and sequence.  

I do not know why Landon came first and I do not know why Alexa came last.... I do not know why boy, then girl, then boy, then girl again came in that order.   

One small degree of variation and this picture could possibly look quite different.  One degree.....one decision..... has made all the difference.

Is it all by chance?  Coincidence.... or nature's random throw of the DNA dice?

When I look at this picture....or any picture for that matter where there is a grouping of family, I simply cannot accept this as happenstance, accidental or the random sum of a cosmetological chemistry lab experiment.  I get that it would be nice to have evidence, more facts.... we like to know things sure.... but, nice for whom?  Us?  ha!  I think the real answers would fry our pea brains.  How could one gaze at and consider the whole sum of their family, consider the connections, bringing little people into this community, the learning and growth, yes, especially the love and not wonder that there could be some purpose, some other non-mathematical equation that puts this life puzzle together for us.  Why do we have to understand everything?  Don't questions keep us moving, thinking and searching?  What would be the fun in knowing all the answers anyway?

I believe the rabid chasing of non-spiritually oriented data, facts and logic to explain our existence is actually an excuse for the weak.  To think there are those that would rather feel content knowing that a cosmic collision of dust and gas out in space is where you came from?  Really.....?  They want that to be their "Mom" and "Dad?" ...... Ick!  They would go to their dusty and rocky grave with smiles on their faces and peace in their hearts that maybe someday they too can be some icy comet that collides with some other outer space debris to cause the next explosion and become an micro ameoba and start that glorious evolutionary cycle again... oh my, I think I am getting goosebumps!  How exciting!....  How meaningful!  This line of reckoning provides meaning in their lives??  

They want to kick the only thing that beautifully describes the possibility of where we came from, whow we are, what our purpose is and where we might be going next smack in the face.....meaning: Religion.  Men definitely get in the way of religion, for sure.... in every single flavor, but isn't it pretty amazing that most of us in this world choose to aspire to believe in something beyond and bigger than us, despite our frailties and weakness.  If religion was completely false, it wouldn't work for so many and for so long.  What if religion isn't the end.... but just the means?   What if it is really like the game of 'Clue'; designed to see if we can take the initiative and find stuff out... looking for heavenly clues placed around us in our lives, piecing things here and there to finally come to the right conclusions.   Flawed or not, I choose religion.  I choose higher purpose.  I choose to believe this union; family.... persists... forever.   Mostly because of love.  Love is the mystery.... love is the magic.....love is the majesty of our existence.  It is the glue in families.  It ultimately binds us to whatever is out there....  

You want to go play in a briny evolutionary soup?  ok... enjoy!  To each his own, thank goodness.

As for me.... when I look at this picture... I will let the tears of indescribable joy roll down my face, feel the burning of my heart and the lump in my throat 'foolishly' lead me to the 'vain' hope of being together forever, forever learning, forever progressing, forever loving.....   Yeah, what a stupid doped-up hogwash idea that is....  

You choose primordial soup.....I choose people with passion and purpose.  So leave me alone about it then......but then you probably can't... cause down deep you really do know, or secretly want to....because you can't possibly stand seeing me content without answers.    

Get over it... Families rule and the Godless drool.

Adronitis

n. frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—
Spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.

Have you had that experience of accidentally meeting someone....and then in just a few seconds feeling like you have known them for a long time? Maybe just wanting to have known them forever...? It is that feeling of instant connectedness that creates this urgency to know all about them immediately!  Adronitis captures this well.  The small talk seems.....unnecessary, unhelpful and just gets in the way, like sticky spider webs that slow down the speed of getting to the "good stuff."  It is in these moments that we seem to know immediately, that there will never be enough time to ever get to really know them.  The realization is heavy, like treading deep water and fighting to get to ground but it takes forever....

I remember having a burst of Adronitis when I was with a very good friend who I had met just a few months earlier.  We had gotten on well and as we started to talk about things I felt this urge to ask:

"What were you like 5 years ago??"  

I felt a very strong desire to know them right then and there, not knowing exactly why.  The response back was a bit of a defensive:  "Why do you want to know?"  Fair question.... I stumbled for a reply....  I remember trying to find the right words so I didn't seem so 'dumb'.....What finally came out was not what I expected, and was a revelation to me.   "Because I wan't to love you more."  This wasn't a romantic "love you" but rather the agape version, the type of just wanting to accept this person for who they were, and by somehow knowing them more deeply would enable me to appreciate them more, to let them know how awesome of a person I thought they were.... as if I could be some kind of a mirror, that they could see the reflection of who they really were.....to see everything I could see, which was amazing to me.

I won't forget that moment.... the response back was very special, emotional and touching.  It wouldn't have happened if not for Adronitis.  It made me want to cut through the "red tape" of the knowing process.   It doesn't have to happen every time.......It isn't for all, and not for every friend...this I know as well.  But for those special moments that make all the difference, it is one of the "hurts good" moments my Father taught me so well to cherish.

To my friend....  wherever you are... I still want to know more.  I have to wait.  I will treasure the small bits and pieces that have come my way... they are like gold, never to tarnish, never losing their luster.

.... a toast to Adronitis, may you continue to play your part in the meeting and knowing of one to another!  long live.....

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

There are those that seek for beauty....as if to "find" it, to "capture" it....like a destination or a possession.  To those who are constantly chasing it, it becomes that perpetual, elusive leaf in the wind, always seemingly within grasp, but like a whisper of smoke, just as one grasps, it blows just ahead....forever...non-catchable.  

Is it possible that it was never meant to be "caught."  What if is is just supposed to be "seen" or "experienced?"

Why do we seek it when it is in us?..... When it is all around us?... Isn't beauty defined by the way we see the world.  Could beauty be the lens we look through. Maybe this is why it is undefinable by one source (Webster's).  You and I define it with every look, with every blink of the eye, with every soulful stare that is connected with our heart.  

Beauty is how our heart sees.  

Isn't this why a perfectly mowed lawn can be striking for one, while for another, the quiet yet systematic routine of a mother to care for kids, to keep a house together can also be defined as ..... beautiful?

I think that beauty is about being quiet.  Its luster illuminates with the right kind of intentional listening. Beauty is a bath you soak in.  It is spiritual and feels exquisite when combined with feeling.  Beauty is clarity of purpose, simplicity at its essence.  It is in the small things, and can be found in the largeness of a landscape or the serenity of an expansive sunset.   My personal favorites are when you find them in between the mundane daily activities and tasks.  When they don't happen because of something intentional, rather, because you were just there.....watching and listening for it while doing the task.. 

"Beauty is its' own excuse for being..." my Dad wrote once to me.... 

I found beauty the other day when I went to a funeral of good friend's 2 year old daughter that drowned in their pool.  I went to mourn and grieve, to be supportive of my friend and his family.  What happened was that they somehow managed to console and give me peace... they only talked about the beauty of this little girl, thankful for the opportunity to "experience" her for a few "eternal seconds" in this life.   

They felt so grateful to be worthy to have the opportunity to release their child back to Heaven... 

No....  I didn't expect to find that kind of deep beauty that morning, but there it was for the taking, for anyone willing to accept and embrace that searing stuff that only God knows how to give and make sense of.


On Beauty


Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."

The tired and the weary say, "Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."

At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say,
"We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."

In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills." 
And in the summer heat the reapers say, 
"We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, 
and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
All these things have you said of beauty, 
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. 
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
Kahlil Gibran

In other words.....You are beauty...  Accept the gift and reflect it on everyone and everything and everywhere you go....and drink in what comes back... It is pretty special to be that free.....