Hall of Fame pt. 2

Prelude:  I wanted to write this post first, but realized when I started that I had to go back to the original and give proper context by writing Hall of Fame pt. 1 first.  This post would be more meaningful as a result.....

Part 1 was all about looking through the eyes of the "son" about the "father".  Part 2 is now reversed.  The "son" has now grown up and is now the "father" having an experience with his "son". In other unnecessary words, this is told through the eyes of the "son-who-is-now-the-father".  (I know you didn't need all that, but now it sounds like a cool native American name huh?)

Story:  On a more serious note....A few months ago, I found myself with my head in my hands and my heart aching as a result of a poorly orchestrated "conversation" with my oldest son.  There are other words for that kind of exchange:  argument, confrontation, knock-down-drag-out, etc.... in the end it doesn't matter what it was labeled, the only proper label for it was...."Horrible"

I had violated my own rules of not getting "loud", not bringing up the "past" and by not getting all the details first before exploding.

It is difficult to come to terms with the truth about you being the one who loses trust with a loved one.  I had already gone through the normal but unhelpful process of trying to justify every position and comment I had made.  I was older, knew more and therefore was "right" by these and the virtue of being the "Father".

As my head lowered with each successive "replay" I came to the realization that all my "expertise" and "experience" weren't worth a hill of beans.  In fact, it was if they didn't matter at all.  The only thing that had mattered was the slowly creeping-in sensation that maybe somehow I was "wrong".  No matter how much I pushed the idea away, it would not back down.  It made itself known and silently presented itself for what it was.....Truth!   

Sidenote:  Isn't Truth the ultimate "face job"?  Revenge pretends to be the one that owns the tagline "Hah, right back at you Jerk"  but, I think not.  Truth owns it outright.  It doesn't have to explain itself, it doesn't justify itself.... it doesn't have to. It just "IS".  I have come to love Truth more in my life as I make more mistakes and realize I fall short.  Truth pierces like no other and it will not be denied.  We can pretend to not "see" it, which we all do, but at the end of the day, it will be seen by all.

The time came many hours later, sitting on the couch in the dark, when my heart finally won over my head, and I let truth in to teach me yet again.  The feelings of remorse came, the burn of tears through pained eyes and the right kind of authentic hurt was felt.

It was during the latter part of this stage when my youngest son, Braden came over, through the dark and sat down next to me.  He then said: "How are you doing?"  I said: "Not great".. He then did something he has never done before or since...... he began to simply ask questions about work, what was going on there, he remembered small things that he shouldn't have even known about.  He continued with just a few of these questions that took me so off guard, yet I knew that they were heartfelt and not contrived just to "change the subject" if you know what I mean.  I was so startled by his maturity and willingness to go where he normally never went.  It completely diffused the heavy feelings I was having and it "broke the bad juju" spell I was under.  He was so quiet, unassuming and yet he knew that was what he needed to do to help Dad.  He somehow knew down deep that he couldn't do many things, but he could just innocently reach out and ask a few sincere questions.  

The affect was immediate and powerful.  I was able to process from that point quickly and then proceeded to make amends with my oldest son soon after.  But what lingered from this experience was what Braden did....not all the stuff in between, but that single, simple well intentioned act of Love he rendered in my behalf.  Yes, one might say that my heart transitioned from feeling "bad" to "hurting good".  You saved me that day.

Braden, you jumped into my Hall of Fame in that instant and it made all the difference in the world.  Sounds strangely "familiar".......like an echo of 25 years ago.

So, that is all, that is it. One simple story, one of many arguments before and since, yet that one will always stand out to me.

Postlude:  I have since thought a lot about the notion of being "Saved".   In a very real way, Braden "saved" me from that situation.  I have been saved by my wife and a few others during the course of my life.  In my mind they are all simply examples of the ultimate Savior, Jesus Christ.  The truth is, He already did it for me...in fact he did it for all of us.  He "saved" us all in every way.  If He were here today, he would be doing the work that Braden did for me. In His wisdom he allows each one of us to be angels to one another by exemplifying His eternal mercy and love through small simple acts of love.  I have a profound feeling of honor and respect for Braden.  Thank you son, for your example.......  I hope I can return the favor one day.

Hall of Fame pt. 1

Prelude:  It was the summer of '86.  I had just returned home from serving in Portugal for 2 years as a volunteer missionary.  I was on top of the world.  I had just experienced the best 2 years of my life as I knew it then.  I was with my parents in Northern VA and had turned my thoughts to work in prep to return for fall semester at BYU. I had landed a midnight to 6am job driving a large van to distribute newspapers to about 30 routes for the Washington Post.  I would try and get a couple of hours of sleep before leaving then finish up with a few more on the flipside before going to a second job by 10am.


Story: My dad had decided to for some unknown mysterious reason, to take upon himself a rather "large" paper route.  When I say "large" I mean "humongous"!!  He did it himself with help of my younger brother JJ.  Going to Mom for answers didn't work as she was already banging her head against the wall wondering what on earth my Dad was thinking. Nevertheless, while we were all scratching our heads, Dad was busy designing the absolutely most organized and well orchestrated paper route man has seen.  He did maps on his computer, he had a color coding system that the CIA would be envious of. He was very disciplined and he ran that thing like a well oiled machine. If there were an Oscar for Paper Routes....well...nuff said!  


Sometimes, when he wasn't careful, and you were in the right position and the right time, you could catch a twinkle in his eye and and a little grin that said something like.. "he he... I am the master of my universe..." minus the stereo typical dramatic evil Draculan laugh that one would expect.....


Now, it didn't matter if it was rain or shine or even  "school closing" snow,  he never missed a day and almost never missed a paper. He did this for years.  Every Saturday evening was spent in our living room with a pile of Sunday inserts....which we all rolled and rubber banded while we watched "Star Search"..... (Ok, so there was no Idol then.... k?)  Nothing was funner than getting up super early on Sunday and load up the papers....each one seriously felt like a block of cement.  Then running around delivering those chunks of bricks...it look twice as long and we had to finish quickly in time to go to our next favorite thing on Sunday......right....Church!  Oh Yeah!! and there was much rejoicing throughout the land....


But once I had taken this nightime job, I had to catch more sleep each morning when I got home in order to be halfway ready for my 2nd job.  So, for several months he and JJ were on their own....(except for those bloody Sundays.)     


Then came my last day.... the day I would be returning to school and leaving home yet one more time.  I remember the day so well... I finished my night route, got home and was on my way into the house when something said to my mind "Go find Dad...!"  I immediately decided to follow the voice....I ran the route until I found him.... I didn't have to go too far and when he saw me coming he shouted out "Hey! great to see you..."  I said "Put me to work".  We finished the route in record time, the day progressed and off I went to BYU.


Fast Forward:  Later.... I think it would have been months later... I received one of Dad's letters.  I can hardly talk about Dad's letters without feeling a lump in my throat.... .  I had come to rely upon them much in my life.  No one wrote letters like Dad.  I opened the letter and then read about that last day I left for BYU many months ago.  


He said that he was already not looking forward to my leaving that day, and knowing he wouldn't see me before I left, when I came bounding down the sidewalk in the darkness to find him and help, he said in that moment I "jumped" into his personal "Hall of Fame".  He proceeded to tell me how special that small moment was for him.  It was totally unexpected.


I had to stop and rewind and play the "tape" again in my mind.  My heart got involved this time.  I thought it was nothing....more fun than very important.  He saw it quite differently. He drew me into the feelings that Fathers have, a context that I couldn't quite understand at the time,  but believed him.  


He went on to say for the first of many times how much I made him "Hurt Good".  This has become a very special term that he and I have traded back and forth since that time.  I have come to know how special that feeling is.


That was it, nothing more; simple really when I think of it, but so profound and it has left its permanent mark on my heart.  

Postlude:  I have since thought about my personal "Hall of Fame".... Who is in there?  Who do I let in?  What do they have to do?  Do I need to have one?  I have thought, and felt about it a lot since then.  I have learned there is a door, there is criteria, but I have never written it down.  In fact, I am not even sure I could tell you.... but I can say that my heart absolutely knows what the entrance criteria is.  I never know when it will happen, but when it does, it is as clear as a whistle through a silent sky.  Do you have one?  "Hurts Good" works for me.

So, I have stopped scratching my head about Dad's paper route.  That letter put that question to bed. I secretly smile to myself in a more knowing way as I think about the many times we spent working together, accomplishing something hard - together.  My hat's off to you Dad...You were always way smarter than me  Thanks for taking that paper route in order to teach me a life lesson about "hurting good" It has made all the difference.