Seven battles every single parent must win – #2 Anger

      

If the root of evil is money, the root of divorce is anger. – Me

Marriages end for a plethora of reasons; often the grounds are understandable while others appear petty and narcissistic. But no matter the hidden or obvious motivation, underneath the numerous rationalizationsf there lies a solid bedrock of anger. And while the firebrand of that anger may be a cornucopia of circumstances ranging from adultery to mere incompatibility; the outcome always finds its way to scorching hostility.

I’ve yet to meet one single person who, when their justifications were set aside, wouldn’t concede that it was an unremitting anger that led them to finally end the marriage and file for divorce. Maybe their rage stemmed from an affair, or perhaps their indignation grew from being replaced by the corporate ladder or needs of the children, or possibly it was just the exasperation of a relationship that couldn’t seem to crawl its way out of the ditch. No matter the root cause, in thyye end that motivation becomes little more than kindling now fueling their white-hot disdain.

Surprisingly, it would be after the divorce when my anger and loathing began to emerge. Even as the genuine reason for the marriage’s failure suddenly became evident, the lies and deceit were easier to digest than one might imagine. In hindsight I think much of that had to do with my anticipation of and focus on a burning desire to reinvent myself. Through modest counseling I was quickly able to move out from under the shadow of her infidelity, which consequently I began to wear like a Boy Scout patch for heroic altruism. And the validation and sympathy I received at the selfish reasons for why I was now a single father only served to swell my sacrificial cow ego. Yet underneath this cool panache were the smoldering embers of a rage that would eventually consume me.

"It’s in this context that my anger initially found fertile soil and began to grow and entwine me; and against its strangulation I’ve battled ever since."

The anger ignited as my daughter started getting older and my time with her became more pleasure and less burden. As changing diapers and feeding bottles were replaced with throwing footballs and dinner conversations I could recognize how the actions of this one trusted person changed her innocent life forever. I could sense the confusion and frustration in her little mind as she bounced from one house to another like balls in a co-parenting Ping-Pong match. And this awareness was intensified every time I pulled out of that driveway and watched as another man suddenly assumed a role that should have been solely mine – a father.

At its most basic, this anger was nourished by the categorical unfairness in it all. Without missing a beat I was slowly being replaced with someone new filling the shoes of her dad. In what can only be discerned as deliberate, the void in my daughrer’s life due to the divorce was conveniently and methodically backfilled with another man. Quickly pictures began to appear on tables and walls portraying the happy family while I had been demoted to the station of sufferable uncle. And this was now the undeniable reality; that my daughter had two fathers, and not only did that break my heart it yielded a seething rage within me.

It was in this context that my anger initially found fertile soil and began to grow and entwine me; and against its strangulation I’ve battled ever since. To say that I’ve remotely conquered this opponent would be a lie. Like any war, enemies can be held at bay for a while as the fighting ebbs and flows with some periods more peaceful than others, but in the most obscure and often inconsequential of moments the remaining cinders can quickly touch off again into a cataclysmic eruption.

It’s been my experience that the battle against anger is one of the more difficult of the seven to overcome. The world is replete with men and women who have been unable, or unwilling, to take the necessary and painful steps that might lead towards healing. Instead they’ve affixed their pride so firmly to that anger it’s now supplanted itself as their entire identity. Remove the rage and they don’t know who they are any longer. And by consequence they unknowingly allow that wrath to affect every area of their life most important of which is the relationship with their children. I witnessed as parents use their kids like mortar shells to wage war against the perceived enemy in hopes of quenching their scorching fury.

As I have reflected on my story, my first discovery is that to ever move beyond anger and disappointment we must accept the reality which ultimately is the anger’s lifeblood. And part of that includes coming to grips with the fact that the decision to do so rests entirely with ourselves regardless of whether the other person takes responsibility or even acknowledges the pain caused. I quickly learned that living in fantasyland and playing the ‘only if’ game did nothing but add kerosene to an open flame.

And in doing so this has produced the most amazing phenomenon, when I finally did accept the reality that I will never be my daughter’s only dad, I began to experience a calm and peace that before never existed. By trying to fight we only make things more difficult.

But what became most unexpected, once I was able to fully embrace this new hand life had dealt me, the fog of animosity and resentment began to lift and I possessed a new clarity that allowed me to recognize the opportunities my reality now opened up before me. As a single father I could see that I’ve been given the chance to impact my children in a way I could never as a married father. With the elimination of a toxic and unhealthy relationship I have the freedom and emotional bandwidth to model for my children what I believe fatherhood to truly be. I now have the chance to demonstrate for my son the type of man he should aim for and to emulate those manly behaviors my daughter should come to expect from future men in her life.

One final point, and I can’t emphasize or write about this enough, divorce never happens in a vacuum. Newton’s Third Law of Motion applies as equally to relationships as it does to physics. Every reaction can and does have an equal and opposite reaction. When I arrived at the point where I could acknowledge the part I had to play in the marriage’s downfall I was forced to recognize that if I stayed angry at others then I must be no less angry at myself. And it just so happened that I was no longer allowed to use self-deception and portray myself as the innocent victim those feelings of anger started to disappear.

None of this should be taken that I’ve got it all figured out. Even after eight years I have yet to walk off this battlefield, but I continue to fight and take my licks in the confidence that the final prize will be worth every wound.

This is the 2nd in a series of posts by the same name.

Seven battles ever single parent must win – #1 Entitlement

The Kübler-Ross model or as it’s commonly known The Five Stages of Grief says that individuals go through five distinct emotional states when faced with the reality of tragedy, most notably loss from death. These stages, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance can occur in a predictable and logical order, randomly, or in other cases, though rarely, not at all. Anyone who has dealt with the loss of a loved one or family member can appreciate the painful truth behind this theory.

The ending of a marriage, arguably, is one of the most devastating losses any person can suffer. It’s been said by many that divorce is even worse than death. Oddly enough I think that’s because death may be softest option the mind and heart has to grasp why the other person left the relationship. Yet regardless of one’s own sentiment, it’s hard to deny the suffering that divorce does impart, not only to the chief participants, but the children and extended family, all of which gets punctuated by the length the agony can linger.

My marriage ended in early 2005 and was immediately followed with the discovery that its main inspiration had been a secret affair that became public immediately after the judge signed the papers. Reflecting back on the months up to and following that event I find similarities between my emotional state and Kübler-Ross Model. If anything, divorce is surely a roller coaster ride.

Viewing life through this worldview, when motives are based upon our own self-interests, inherently leads to shallow choices that ultimately foster deep regrets
The recovery road of divorce is different for everyone. Each experience is shaped by a host of influences including who asked and who was asked, the root cause of the separation, and the level of viciousness the divorced reached. And while each path may well be different, there are certain stops we all make along the journey. Many refer to these stops as stages, others label them seasons, and I prefer to call them battles. I dislike the concept of season as it implies we are helpless to do anything about the situation, much like the weather, and instead we must fold our hands and wait for the storm to pass. ‘Battle’ provides a level of hope that, while likely to be difficult, there is opportunity to vanquish the enemy.

With my divorce eight years in the rearview mirror, underscored with the fact that my daughter was under three years old when I became a single dad, I have narrowed these battles into what I believe are the seven every single, and specially divorced, parent must fight – and win.

These battles are, entitlement, fear, loneliness, anger, regret, guilt, and vengeance.

From my experience I’ve learned they can be waged on several fronts against multiple foes at the same time then be followed by periods of peace and tranquility – only to flare back up again. For some, certain battles may seem more like skirmishes while others feel like D-Day on the beaches of Normandy. Many battles rage on for years while others erupt in aggressive fighting then quickly dissipate. And lastly and from first hand experience; defeating of one can, and often does, serve only to make way for another.

If asked to pinpoint my emotional state immediately following my divorce, after watching the dismantling of life, as I knew it, I would admit I suffered an enormous sense of entitlement. This was due in large measure to three things. First, I didn’t ask for the divorce. Second, the financial implications as a result were tremendous. Third, I believe I made the deepest sacrifices. And on top of it all was a layer of victimization fueled by falsely thinking I had no part to play.

This sense of entitlement manifest itself in several ways. To begin, I felt I had suddenly been awarded Double Jeopardy at being wrongly convicted and punished for a crime I didn’t commit. As a result I gave license to act in whatever way I chose without regard for who might get hurt in the process. Secondly, I made the end all of my existence my own happiness and pleasure, I believed the last ten years of my life had now been for nothing and I was intent on making up for what I missed out on. And lastly, to justify it all, any morals I may have possessed were promptly thrown out the window; as far as I was concerned doing the right thing had gotten me nowhere so what was the point.

At its most fundamental a feeling of entitlement leads us to make only those choices that serve our own best interests no matter the cost to others. A divorced parent will abandon their children because of another relationship; mothers will leverage their kids to maintain control post divorce while fathers will use money to the same ends, and in each case acting so because they feel entitled.

Yet the most significant concern with entitlement lays in this; we begin to see others not for who they are but only for what they can do for and give to us. Viewing life through this worldview, when motives are based upon our own self-interests, inherently leads to shallow choices that ultimately foster deep regrets. It has taken years of my own personal growth to realize the hurt I caused others and myself because of that shameless and self-righteous attitude – decisions that having been made can never be undone.

I believe it’s the men who fight this battle of entitlement the longest. More often the divorce wasn’t their choice, but when they finally come to accept the end of the marriage is when they, much like I did, go into a dispensation tale spin feeling as if life has given them a raw deal and the world owes the bill.

It’s a common piece of advice and one I thoroughly agree with, a new divorcee should stay out of any relationship for the first twelve months. And the feeling of entitlement is usually the reason why. In this emotional state men may begin viewing women as the prescription of choice to get over their loss – but instead of calling it entitlement they mistakenly refer to it as freedom. But like any drug when the benefits begin to wear off whatever was getting him by soon gets discarded for something more potent.

There is only one way I know of to win the battle against this, but a word of caution, it isn’t a pleasant pill to swallow. Eliminating a sense of entitlement after a divorce, brought about with the thinking of ‘look what I went through!’, requires us to admit that the divorce didn’t happen in a vacuum and confessing, we are also guilty and had a part to play.

Until we can fully and sincerely admit to this, which starts by putting our pride on the shelf, we are destined to continue fighting that loosing battle, and in so doing, minimize any chances we have of ever moving on.

This is the 1st in a series of posts by the same name.

Why adultery still matters

                               

If you’re a fan of watching heroes topple, this weekend became your Super Bowl of sorts. In a 72-hour period three high profile men of industry and the military saw their private lives and their careers served up like the dollar menu at McDonalds.

David Petreaus, now former CIA director and retired military golden child, Joe Rogers Jr., daddy’s boy and CEO of my favorite chain restaurant – Waffle House, and Christopher Kubasik heir apparent to Lockheed Martin’s top job all found their names and reputations laid bare in news papers and media outlets across the country, and each under the same pretense – extra-marital affairs.

It was discovered via harassing emails from one woman to another that Patreaus, aged 60, was having an affair with his 40-year-old biographer. Rogers has been accused of demanding a former house keeper and single mom, after she wouldn’t actually have sex with him, to perform sexual favors as a condition of her employment, and Kubasik has admitted to dipping his Monte Blanc in the company ink.

These stories are nothing new, it seems we can’t go ninety days without an infidelity scandal racking the halls of Washington or the C-suites of America. Power is an alluring mistress enticing those who possess it into believing they are outside the reach of the same virtue which governs us mere mortals. So when their callous actions finally outpace their reputations and their handlers’ best efforts we commoners secretly relish in the satisfaction at the demi-god’s demise. The public at large is singing the same chorus anytime events such as these happen. Amid the refrains of shock and disappointment is the ubiquitous stanza demanding resignations and forfeiture of the prestige and privilege such statuses provide. In other words, their behavior is inconsistent with their job titles.

Show me a man who will cheat on his wife and I’ll show a man who will lie about anything.

Maybe it’s just me, but I find the overwhelming response somewhat baffling. There are growing numbers who believe marriage, in its traditional sense, is circling the drain. They support this view citing high divorce rates and more couples opting to hedge their bets by cohabiting instead of going ‘all in’ and tying the knot. They believe marriage is little more than antiquated legalism harkening back to the days before indoor plumbing and microwaves; a social conditioning that actually hinders relationships by placing unnecessary obligations and restraints that only serve to stifle true love. Oscar Wilde may have said it best, “One should always be in love. That’s the reason one should never marry.”

But here’s where I get hung up, why is it that amid all the debate about marriage and its insignificance does this intolerance of infidelity remain so universal? When so many think that marriage is now useless, why is there still outrage and disgust when someone steps outside it like these men have? Why is infidelity the only sin we are perfectly within our right to judge? And why is there this expectation that a seemingly dead institution, marriage, should still be honored and cherished and anyone choosing to stray from it deserves everything they get?

In other words, why does adultery still matter?

In the continuing coverage surrounding these events, especially those of Patreaus, opinions are plentiful on how much their infidelity ought be factored into the men’s futures. Should their personal life have any impact on their professional one? Do they deserve to lose their jobs potentially ruining their careers or should they get a pass for who they are and what they’ve done? Or is infidelity such a deal killer that it makes every other good deed suddenly inconsequential? Or put another way, what does Kubasik’s adultery have to do with making airplanes? One article answers like this:

“Now, sophisticates know that infidelity happens all the time, in the C suite and on the factory floor. And having an affair, in and of itself, doesn’t disqualify anybody from holding a position of public authority…And so as a general rule, when top professionals admit to, or are caught in, extramarital activity, it is regarded as a sign of human frailty or failing—not as a disqualification or reason to retire.”

“Sophisticates” should also know that marriage is a commitment, a heart-felt promise to forsake all others and devote oneself physically, spiritually, and mentally to the other person for life. Likewise they ought to know that there is no more powerful bond between two people than that of matrimony. Marriage is a big deal and brings huge consequences, both to the individuals and the friends and family around them. Marriage, if anything, is about honor. But unfortunately not everyone takes marriage so seriously and because of that divorce has become part of our culture and is acceptable so long as it’s handled with a bit of decency. But should the divorce be a result of lies, deceit, and fraud that acceptance rightly turns to downright indignation and distrust.

Consider this, all of these men were powerful leaders heading influential organizations (even the Waffle House, just try their hash browns). They didn’t make it to the executive suite with poor decision-making skills. Not to mention once on the executive floor, their every action and step is sifted through the filter of Legal, HR, and Public Relations. Nothing they ever do is left to chance, so it shouldn’t be surprising when their laments of how they “used poor judgment that has deeply hurt their friends and family” fall on deaf ears.

And this brings me to why adultery still matters. If a person, man or woman, will have an affair and thereby lie to the person they promised to love, honor, and cherish above all others until they day they die, is there anyone they would not lie to? Infidelity isn’t a matter of bad judgment it’s a matter character. Anyone so self-absorbed as to maliciously destroy a marriage out of purely egomaniacal reasons will unlikely show restraint when faced with an ethical dilemma at work. If a husband will deceive his wife of 38 years, he will deceive a customer, employee, or boss. Is it even fathomable to think that a man who cheats and lies at home can remain honest at the office? No man is his own island and character is a factor – in and out of the boardroom. Show me a man who will cheat on his wife and I’ll show you a man who will lie about anything. Make no mistake, their infidelity speaks volumes about the type of person they are – at home or behind a desk.

There’s some who’ll say I’m acting extremely judgmental by not taking into consideration how people can change. And they’re right; I am proof of how bad choices can be turned for the better. But, if we don’t gauge a person by their actions, what are we left with?

I feel for these families just as I feel for these men. It’s hard to imagine how they could get so low to sacrifice their careers and families on the altar of pretentiousness, believing their actions away from work shouldn’t or wouldn’t matter. Yet I’m willing to bet this morning if you asked these men they’d tell you – adultery still matters.

The Tooth Fairy, ya cheap ho bag.

                             

Growing up, the loss of a tooth meant waking up the next morning to a dollar (as in one) in the place of where my detached body part lay the night before- no fanfare, no parades, no nothing. When Jasmine lost her first tooth, a few years ago, it was on my weekend and because I have a penis, I was not aware of the evident changes nor was I versed in the latest technology of the Tooth Fairy industry - I had no fairy dust. No one mentioned that in addition to dinero, today’s Tooth Fairy traffics in LSD so her toothless groupies will have conclusive evidence that she’s been there. For this brainchild, somebody’s got a punch to the uterus coming.

Lacking any tangible creativity, I decided that this Tooth Fairy would leave a note of thanks and encouragement instead of sprinkley glittery goodness. So at the 11th hour, I came up with this and put it on top of the water glass where the fairy dust was supposed to have been.

Miss Jasmine,

I am so excited that you have lost your tooth and I have left a special gift for you under your pillow! You did super in the First Grade and I know you are very good at reading and math. I wrote you this note instead of leaving fairy dust, just so I could to tell you what a special girl I think you are. Thank you for the yummy water!

The Tooth Fairy

Don’t forget to brush your teeth every day!

Yummy water?!?!? How gay, obviously my tampon was up too far that day.

So when Jasmine broke her dental hymen this weekend she expected nothing less than poetic brilliance from the Dental Wonder Woman. But for my 7-year old, unfortunately we’ve been in a recession for a while and, well, everyone’s apparently been affected.

I felt sorry for the little princess, when she woke up the next morning to this note:

Wat up dog!

I know dis is like yo first tooth and all, but dis sister just ain’t got nothin fa ya no mo. Da fairy dust dealer done cut me off and I had to hock tha magic wand to buy baby formula. Damn Cupid done got me knocked up and all, and now he say he back with his other baby momma. And if I don’t come up with some money quick dey gonna repo my fairy wings! So, I know this ain’t de way its ‘possed to be but I’m gonna grab dis enamel you got here cause Leroy down at the pawn shop be paying top dolla right now and I finna take a little hit off this piggy bank, cause momma gotta pay dim bills. I’m good for it, yo! You just keep losing dim teeth and I’ll settle up wit you next go round.

Peace, stay in school, don’t do drugs, whatever…

Tooth Fairy

Oh and how bout a little Cristal up in here next time, wurd?

I think I’ll take her out for ice-cream.

Why Do Men Have a Hard Time Handing Things Over To God?

If pride truly cometh before the fall then we need a strong harness and a good helmet.

Note: When I use “God” I’m talking about the God of the Jewish, Christian and Catholic faiths but it can mean whatever higher power you believe in. The principles are all the same so if you have a different authority that you answer to please replace God with that.

As men we’re fixers. It’s in our DNA to try and do things ourselves and in general we aren’t real big on asking for help. Does this story sound familiar?

Think about the last time you picked up something from IKEA. Chances are you immediately laid everything out in front of you, put the directions somewhere behind you and began the assembly process.

Did your wife/girlfriend/partner/child come into the room as you were searching for nut B and screw Z to ask how it was going? Did you respond by muttering something under breath about how the Swedes need a lesson in assembling furniture ‘The American way?”

Did they then pick up the directions from the corner and ask why you weren’t using them? If they did I’m sure you answered, “Directions? I don’t need no stinking directions.”

Once you finally got it assembled did you stare in wonder at the four extra pieces and ask yourself why they put extra pieces in the package? The answer is that they didn’t put anything extra in the box.

We beamed with pride as we showed our family the shiny new entertainment center and flew into a rage when it fell apart the moment the new (and very expensive) flat screen TV crashed to the floor because the shelf collapsed.

The same is true with our lives. We believe that as men we can take care of everything on our own. We make mistakes and then break down what happened like a football coach the day after a spanking on national TV.

The truth is that we can’t take care of everything on our own and we do need help. When I say, “help” I don’t mean that we call our neighbor to help us drop the motor into the car we’re always working on. I mean that we need help from above.

I can tell you that I’ve screwed up in ways I’m ashamed to admit and the reason I’ve screwed up is that I refuse to hand stuff over to God and try to do life on my own. But I can’t do life on my own. No one can. At least not successfully.

Why do we try and get through life on our own? For me it’s that I’m afraid to hand over the reins and let someone else take control. If we don’t like people driving our car why would we want someone driving our life?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV)

No matter what your beliefs, the idea that we can’t do things on our own is universal. Once we admit that we need help and turn the leys of our lives to God we will find that we will get from A to B without the mishaps and blunders that happen when we get behind the wheel.

I liken our lives to a limousine ride. We can either drive ourselves through life or we can hop in the back seat and let God use his GPS to maneuver around the trouble spots.

It’s no secret that men don’t like to ask for directions when driving and the same is true with our lives. It seems the bigger the decision the less likely we are to ask for help and that makes no sense.

I recently attended a retreat with my church men’s group and the speaker was a neurosurgeon named Dr. David Levy. Surgeons have a reputation for thinking they hold the fate of the patient in their hands but Dr. Levy knows who is ultimately in charge.

Not only does he pray for guidance before and during the surgery but he also prays with his patients before the surgery. He told us that when he started doing this with his patients he was afraid of what the nurses and other doctors would think and did it only when he was alone with the patients.

After a while people caught on to what he was doing and the nurses began joining him in prayer with his patients.

The point of this story is that if a man in a profession full of people with God complexes can hand over the lives of his patients to God then I should be able to hand my daily life over to God.

More often than not I try to do things on my own and the results are typically not what I was hoping for.

I believe that a big reason for us not handing things over to God is because we’re prideful. History is full of prideful men who didn’t hand things over to God and who suffered greatly because of it.

Remember Adam? He was prideful and thought he could be like God but instead was cast out of the Garden of Eden and ended up screwing it up for the rest of us. We need to remember that our decisions affect more than ourselves. If we’re married and have a family our decisions will impact them and our decisions can sometimes make or break the companies that we own or work for.

What do we do about it? I have to constantly remind myself that I tend to screw things up in a big way and that I have to suck it up and admit to myself that I don’t have the answers and that I can’t do it on my own.

The hardest part for me is admitting to myself that I need help. I have some pretty serious self-esteem issues and hate asking for help with anything because in my messed up mind asking for help is just one more failure and one more reason not to believe in myself.

I walk a fine line between my need to believe in my abilities and my need to believe that I need help from above. Once I find that balance I have no doubt that my life will improve tremendously.

I feel like I’m trapped in my life and that I don’t know who I really am. I’m afraid of screwing up and have too much fear but as I learned from Dr. Levy, vulnerability is the highest form of courage.

As men we have an inherent need to be brave and to be courageous yet we don’t realize that it’s OK to be vulnerable. We don’t want to be seen as cowards or that we’re not in control of our lives. The sooner we realize that we’re not in control and that being vulnerable isn’t the same as being a wimp the sooner we will have the life we want.

I have a message on the bottom of my massive whiteboard. It says, “In a world where you can be anything…BE YOURSELF!” I see these words every day yet I have a hard time heeding them. I feel like I’m trapped in a hole that I can’t get out of and the reason I’m trapped is that I’m afraid to find out who I really am. I’m pretty sure that I will like that person but the fear of that guy being a bigger loser than the person I currently am takes over and I stay in the never ending cycle I’m currently in.

The last thing Dr. Levy reminded me of is that authenticity gives us freedom. The way out of the hole I’m in is in being myself and part of being myself has to be handing the keys of my life over to God. The sooner I put my hands up and say, “Your turn” the sooner I will have the life I want.

That’s my story. What’s yours? What stops you from handing things over to God? If you are one of the people who does hand things over to God how has it changed your life? I want to hear your story.

If you want to learn more about this I highly suggest getting the book Gray Matter: A Neurosurgeon Discovers the Power of Prayer . . . One Patient at a Time by Dr. David Levy. It’s part medical drama and part insight to our spiritual selves. I’m a few chapters in and it’s a great read.

I Will Wait

Sometimes the message is in the song. This time the message is the song.
Music is a big part of my life even if the only thing I play is the stereo. I prefer digital to analog as it’s much easier to tune. The iPhone is my instrument of choice.

I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons is currently in my top three most played and for good reason. It’s catchy, upbeat without being loud and to be perfectly honest I dig the string-heavy sound of the quartet from London.

I’m a very visual person and while on YouTube the other day I decided to check out the video for I Will Wait.

The excitement began when I saw it was filmed at Red Rocks in Colorado, a place I definitely want to see a good band at in person. As the music began I noted how beautiful the setting of the venue is. I encourage you to check it out after you finish.

The peaceful setting mixed with the guitar, banjo, stand up bass and keyboard was downright cool but it was the voice of Marcus Mumford that caught my attention. As he started the second verse I thought I noticed something so I backtracked to the beginning of the song to see if I heard what I thought I heard I did.

It was a conversation between God and a person, kind of a prayer with an immediate reply. The man/woman does the majority of the talking but God does reply. The chorus could go either way.

I like to think that it’s the person saying they will wait for God to do his thing and also that it’s God telling the person that He will wait for him/her. Either way it’s a beautiful story.

God’s part is in italics while the person’s is in bold. The chorus is reader’s choice. When you’re finished I encourage you to watch the video and let me know what you hear.

Well I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of dust
Which we’ve known
Will blow away with this new sun

But I’ll kneel down wait for now
And I’ll kneel down
Know my ground

And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
So break my step
And relent
Well you forgave and I won’t forget
Know what we’ve seen
And him with less
Now in some way shake the excess
And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
Now I’ll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So tame my flesh
And fix my eyes
A tethered mind freed from the lies
But I’ll kneel down
Wait for now
I’ll kneel down
Know my ground
Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow
Cause I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you
And I will wait I will wait for you

                                         

If guns cause violence, then spoons are the cause of obesity.

If guns cause violence, then spoons are the cause of obesity., a photo by benjamin_valadez on Flickr.

My kid and the birthday dilemma

I was born, you were born, that clerk at the tag office was born to. It’s a common event shared with the 7 billion or so others on the planet. And with only 365 days in a calendar year, based on the averages, roughly 69 million of them share the same birthday. When one stops to look at it in those terms, what’s the entire ruckus with our birthday really about anyway?



Why do so many act like the day of their birth is carved out only for them and rest of the world should prostrate in worship and gladness that providence saw to it we were graced by their presence? From the beginning, for many, a birthday entails the stoppage of time and space in order to celebrate. Banners are erected, parties thrown, and clowns hired for the purpose of making the “birthday boy/girl” feel as completely and totally special as possible – because God knows we all need to feel special. And as time goes on if mom, dad, or a friend isn’t there to continue the tradition it’s become totally acceptable, and in perfectly bad taste, to throw a birthday party – for ourselves.
 
Maybe this negative sentiment is the result of growing up with my birthday never arriving to fanfare and tickertape parades. I have little memory of any of my birthday parties as a kid and have only found a few pictures evidencing that one ever took place.

Where I was from the world didn’t stop rotating on its axis the morning of every Mar.
8^th And having recently passed my 48th time around the sun I’m glad it never did.

 

Today marks my youngest child, Jasmine’s, 8^th birthday. Achieving the big 8 brings mixed emotions; I can’t believe she’s this old but I often thought she would ever get here. I’ve been a single dad for 80% of her life and there were times, in those early years, when all I longed for was a child mature enough to brush her teeth and wash her own hair. Now aside from me paying the electricity bill and chauffeuring her around she handles most things quite well. At the rate this 8yrs. flew she’ll be moving into her own apartment next week.

You might think we’re planning a blowout to celebrate hitting eight digits with a Taylor Swift theme, caterers, party favors, and a DJ.
But you’d be wrong.

Instead she will wake up to birthday hugs and kisses from her father and a trip to the donut shop for breakfast. Later she’ll likely immerse herself in “Good Luck Charlie” episodes while cleaning her room and making her bed. Since she has the patience of an infant she’s already gotten her birthday presents all of which were necessities and not electronics whose names begin with vowels. We’ll have sandwiches for lunch and she’ll get to blow out candles on cupcakes I got for 50% off at the grocery store. And if we’re lucky and my day is light we might see the pool before afternoon is over.

Later in the day her mom and I will make the switch and they’ll go to Jasmines’s favorite restaurant for dinner. The only traditional birthday-‘ish’ thing she will do is a movie and sleepover with three friends at her mom’s house a few weekends from now — because no upstanding parent would allow their daughter to spend the night with her friend and her single dad.

In the end the sun will set on Jasmine’s 8^th birthday with no fireworks, ponies, limo rides, or mayoral decrees. And the strangest thing in it all – she thinks it’s supposed to be this way.

 

Enjoying coffee one morning I couldn’t help overhearing a twenty something talking about her upcoming birthday plans. She proceeds to correct her friend that this isn’t her birthday but actually her birth-‘month’. She explains how the people in her life are aware of the lofty birthday expectations and parents, family, and friends have seen to it every weekend has been slated with some form of festivities, from dinners, to parties, to birthday get-a-ways. I didn’t know whether to wish her happy one or ask when her daddy issues started.

The world is full of adults whose parents didn’t make them feel special. I get that responsibility as a dad. But we’ve taken this idea of birthdays, especially children’s birthdays, to an obnoxiously obscene level. No longer can they be mere observances with a cake and candles, but instead have been turned into a national holiday and orchestrated affairs that require event planners and a security detail. I’ve witnessed boy’s birthday parties that include custom T-shirts and little girl’s parties that are an afternoon in the spa. Bygone are the days of a simple party at home with a Betty Crocker cake and dad’s amateur attempts at writing in frosting that more resemble Sanskrit than birthday wishes.

As a single father it would be oh so very easy to give into this birthday dilemma and give Jasmine whatever celebration her 8-year-old heart desires. Her parents are seperated doesn’t she deserve special treatment? Birthdays are how ‘DisneyLand Dads’ got their start, right? But by hopping that train takes her and I someone we don’t want to go. seperated or not, the last thing I want my daughter to be is a twenty something who thinks the world should stop every Oct. 19^th, because mommy or daddy made it do so. Ever wondered where kids’ entitlement issues start?

No, Jasmine will wake up to a father who’s thankful and blessed she is in his world and who will recognize the day for what it is – without ever making a big deal of any of it.