v2, d353: Hey Look, I Forgot to Title Yesterday's Post

Tonight was the end-of-the-year AWANA awards dinner.  Robbie ended the night disappointed that we went to church for AWANA but he never got to play with anything. At least he enjoyed the garlic bread.

I'm going to admit that tonight actually turned into sort of an emotional event for me.  This is only the third year I've worked with AWANA (and the first time I've got to stick with it for the whole year--Phoenix Too Frequent and Little Foxes took me out for the spring the last couple of years), and I watched kids who Kim has had the past four or five (I can't remember exactly) years in Cubbies as well as the kids who've moved up from my time with T-N-T's, and I saw how much many of these kids have grown in the six years I've been in Houston, and I listened to how much each of them have accomplished over the past year in AWANA (By the way, if you don't know what AWANA is, ask me sometime.  I don't feel like going into it all here :-)), and I was so proud of every one of them. I thought about how well I've gotten to know some of the kids, and I looked at the ones I don't know well and found myself getting excited about getting involved with them through AWANA or other activities in the future.  I watched each of the adults who have dedicated nearly a year's worth of Sunday nights (the pastor said it best--giving up time the rest of the world uses for needed rest and recouperation) to encourage these kids, to listen to these kids, to love on these kids.  And then our club commander said to an audience of leaders and parents: "They do it because they believe your kids are worth it." 

Worth it.

I don't know why I was so struck emotionally by that phrase, but I was. Yes, these kids are worth it. Yes, I miss having quiet evenings alone on Sunday, but I don't regret giving them to the kids at the church.  Yes, my Wednesdays are now pretty much shot, going from one job, rushing through traffic and dinner, heading to my other job, and trying to get the kids to bed before it's too late.  But I'm glad I do it.  I would rather watch the choir members' kids run around the gymnasium for an hour or two than read or surf the Internet--and reading time and, yes, even Internet time are things that have been very important to me, because they are mine.

I don't think it's a surprise to anyone to hear me say, "I love kids."  But what I realized tonight was how much I love these kids.  Not in that sense which I receive satisfaction from stories that come back to me from parents of kids I have taught, or who have seen shows I wrote that made an impact, but the way you care about a friend or a cousin.  I've been asking God to open my heart for these kids, and I feel He has started to do that. And I think a benefit to that has been that me loving the kids at church has in turn enhanced my love for my own kids.

In The War of Art, Steven Pressfield says that the creative mind is a lot like a muscle.  (He doesn't use that terminology; it's much Higher and More Artistic than that, but it's the same concept)  The more you use it, the better you become with it.  The more you write, the more blocks you push yourself through, the easier more creative solutions to writers' problems will start coming to you.  Well, I think loving is the same way.  Learning to love anyone selflessly--and that's rare, folks.  I don't say that in judgment, but very few of us have truly selfless relationships--increases your capacity to love others as well.  An alien love deepens a familiar one.  Telling your mother you love her when you are four is an entirely different expression from when you are thirty.  When you realize you love The One you'll one day wed, you realize how different it is from all the ones that came before.  You had no capacity to understand that until the moment it happened, and in that moment your heart discovered an ability it had never had before.  It impacts everything else you've given your heart to.  Likewise, learning that there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother makes your heart stronger, that ultimately you may be a better son, friend, brother, spouse, whatever. 

Healthy, Godly relationships make us better people. I guess that's the bottom line.  As we grow, so grows our capacity to love one another. And as our capacity to love one another grows, so increases our capacity for further growth.  And on and on and on. I think I've been needing to look at ways (in this job) to put myself aside for the benefit of those I'm serving.  Which, obviously, is something I knew when I took the job, but knowing a thing and learning it are two completely different things.  When I was in school, I never wanted to "show my work" if I didn't need to do the problem long-hand.  This was true in math, English, science, whatever.  This is because I've always been a "the answer is what's important" sort of guy.  Here, I think, is where God has most been working with me this past year.  "Great, that is exactly the right answer. Now, how do you get there?"

I'm working on it.  And thanks be to God, because I feel like I've glimpsed another variable to the equation. 

v2, d187: Push Comes to Shove

On the surface, yes, this is hockey related. Really, though, it's not. Go with me here.

Okay, wait, first everybody should go check out this Puck Daddy post entitled "The most adorable youth hockey goal celebration ever?" 'Cause it just might be.

All right. Now, just like everybody else in the hockey world, I need to touch on the Rick Rypien issue. In case you missed it, a Vancouver Canucks player got tossed from a game in Minnesota recently and, on his way out, he turned to shove a fan who was clapping sarcastically. (The fan claims all he said was, "Way to be a professional" just before Rypien shoved him. Rypien had to be held back by teammates. The fan has said he's looking at legal options after the assault.

Rypien will be suspended. He has been, actually, and has already missed one game. The length of the suspension will be decided after he meets with league officials. Player-fan altercation is something that rarely happens. And the league doesn't want players messing with paid customers. And it's bad press.

And it was just stupid.

Today, however, I read this blog by Justin Bourne. Bourne agrees that this particular incident was ridiculous and stupid, and that Rypien needs to be punished for his actions. He also makes it clear that violently interacting with a customer is never acceptable.

He asks, however, where the line should be drawn. The sentiment seems to be "a fan can say whatever he or she wants to a player at any time. The players should just shrug it off. That's the nature of the beast. He knew what he was getting into when he wanted to be a hockey player." And to an extent that is definitely true. Taunting is part of sports. Entire fanbases frequently target a specific player and tell him that he sucks. At Aeros games, we make a point of letting the goalie know every time he's let a goal in. At Denver Bronco games, the fans all cheer "INCOMPLETE" derisively whenever the other team drops a ball. Once, at an ice hockey game at OU, my friends and I started counting the number of goals scored every time the Sooners netted one. (Had we known it would go all the way to twenty-one, we probably never would have started. Sorry, KU goalie)

Nevertheless.

When one man is cornered--say, he's in the penalty box for two minutes or more--and another man or woman begins hurling personal insults--not things like "You suck" or "You're an idiot" but slurs against his wife or his family, or references to a troubled drug problem that is in his recent past--is it hard to blame the guy for snapping and reacting? Again, physical aggression is still not warranted, but can you really expect any man to just sit there and take it in the face of that level of personal attack?

According to the comments following the post (Internet comments are a good place to go if you want to despair for humanity, by the way), yes. Yes, players deserve that kind of treatment from us, the fans, because A) we're paying lots of money to sit close to them, and B) they make a lot of money to entertain me. All this rhetoric about having a thick skin or it coming with the territory basically boils down to "I have a right to treat this man like trash because he is rich and I am paying his salary. And a lot of folks were outraged that Bourne would even suggest that players had a right to stand up for themselves in ANY situation.

This is where, to me, the problem shifts away from sports fans and athletes and becomes a Heart of Man type issue. Because, when you look around, we don't just treat athletes that way. We treat actors that way. We treat singers that way. We treat elected officials that way. Bosses treat employees that way. Employees treat interns that way. It is my right to be a monster to you, because our circumstances have put us in such a relationship that you have no right to fight back. I'm a good person, and you are just (a basketball player/the coffee intern/a preacher in some church half a country away). 

How sick is this???  Since when is it ever okay to talk to another man or woman in this manner?  Or in just any manner you want?  Are you seriously paying $250 for the privilege of treating another human being like an animal for a couple of hours?  Did you work your way up the corporate ladder so you could try to make your subordinates cry?  So hey, that famous guy cheated on his wife.  You now have the moral prerogative to call him worthless as a human being?  Or look, that guy just got over a drug addiction that lost him his family.  It'll be fun to wave it in front of his face, because he can't touch us!  He's just another one of the animals in the zoo! Ha ha, can't touch me or you'll be the bad guy on every TV and every blog in North America! 

I am stretching this a little.  But only a little.  I actually find it deeply convicting.  We all get terribly wrapped up in our entertainments.  We allow the lives of our heroes to become entertainments in themselves.  Any good hero needs a good villain, so we set up villains for our little dramas.  And we want to see them fall.  Because they deserve it.  Because they're the bad guys. 

Look, Rick Rypien was wrong.  Clearly.  And he was pretty stupid, too.  Tiger Woods was very wrong.  LeBron was unbelievably self-centered and childish.  The guy who always dismissed my comments as "intern drivel" was wrong.  The pastor burning Korans in Florida is pretty disgraceful, too. 

And if, in any moment, I ever thought myself to be better than any one of them, I have become the least of these. 

Remember that people are people.  Remember that hurts really hurt, no matter who they happen to.  Many of us deserve what we have coming to us; many do not.  And it's not mine to say which is which. 

Remember something about casting stones.  And live, whenever possible, as sons of peace. 

I'm not sure if I've made my point here, or even if I had one to begin with. And I know none of my readers are probably very strong offenders in this instance.  But, if anything else, I hope this window to the soul of the hockey world serves as a reminder that we are, every one of us, fallen beings in need of the grace of God.  If there is any good in me, it is of Christ and not myself.  But that's another blog for another time. 

v2, d171: Rain-soaked Saturday Mornings

Amazing how "thirty percent chance of isolated showers" becomes "monsoon looming over one of the most flood-prone areas of the state."  Equally amazing how quickly "beach party with our church friends" can become "most disappointing day in a three-year-old life." 

Disappointingly un-amazing is how quickly "bad morning on the road" wipes out gratitude for a mountain of blessings that are obviously staring you in the face. 

Therefore, it is with a penitent and grateful heart that I give thanks publicly for family, for safety on rain-soaked highways, for a warm, dry home to come back to, and for an hour digging in the sandbox and playing in the rocks before going in for an evening work shift. 

Very blessed.

v2, d153: Girls are Good. Guys are Good, too.

I don't think it's a surprise to anybody here that I have a bit of a soft spot for "the ladies."  Now, don't get me wrong, I've never been a guy who really "chases skirts," though I did go through a bit of a girl crazy phase (and what guy hasn't?).  I've also never been one of the guys who prefers the company of women to the company of other guys (for every random adventure with Holly and Sherri at OBU, there was either a regularly-scheduled Manly Movie Night or an impromptu NHL Hitz/X-Men Legend-a-thon).  Looking back over my life, I've always preferred--and for the most part, managed to achieve--a balance of equally strong friendships between my guy-friends and my girl-friends.  I've even had several of (possible bad Spanish alert!) mis amigas comment on how well I (generally) "handle" women--which is funny, because I somehow seem to strike this balance between the "obnoxious older brother/pest" role to the "supportive/protective older brother" role and the "chivalrous gentleman" role as the relationship/situation demands, often going from one to the other and back within the same conversation. 

Why am I bringing this up?  Because!  Lately I've been realizing how this pattern has greatly influenced literary tendencies, and it interests me.  Feel free to move on if you're bored ;-)

I've been mulling over a short story I've been trying to finish for awhile and wondering why I just can't get excited about finishing it, as much as I love the concept and as easy as it should be to wrap the whole thing up.  An odd thought came to me this evening while I wondered at my current conundrum: Maybe it's because there are no females. 

Now, my initial reaction is that a story I like should be a story I like regardless of the gender of my characters.  Especially if it's one I'm writing.  And especially if I'm pleased with the way it's going.  What does it matter if there are any girls or not?

Then I thought back on everything else I've written in the last five years.  There's usually a pretty strong male-female balance in my characters.  There's a lot of dualism going on.  I've never really written a story where there wasn't at least one woman who is equally important as the leading man or vice versa.  That goes for my plays, my novel, any shorter stories I've tried.  Even the play I wrote for a cast of three of either gender, I had the stage directions written as if the performers were two men and one woman. Even when I was a kid writing stories on the back of old homework assignments, I usually had to work a girl into the gang somehow. 

And then there's this story.  I had a grandmother, and she's pretty essential to the story, but she died in, like, chapter two.  And then there's a mom, but she's more a non-factor, she and dad are pretty much a single entity with two heads.  My protagonist goes to a boys' school, has male professors, and runs off with one of his classmates to have an adventure.  And now they're on the side of a mountain going on an amazing adventure with nothing but one another to lean upon...and, they bore me.  Interestingly, I originally plotted this story almost immediately after I wrote The Hero Squad vs. The Princess Snatchers in 2005.  Back then, the plan was to have a boy and girl share the adventure, not two boys.  Maybe I shoulda stuck with that? ;-)

As I further entertained this line of thinking, I thought back to the last few books I'd read.  I'm currently working on Robert Jordan's The Eye of the World, book one of his epic Wheel of Time series.  It's very good, though it's very long, and the pages are quite dense.  (Most books I've read with this many pages have had shorter pages.  These pages are packed with words!)  It took me a few days to get into because A) my schedule hadn't been allowing extended periods of reading, and B) I didn't find anything particularly engaging within the first few scenes.  In the last two days, however, I've become hooked and have debated not blogging in order to read more (hence lack of blogging lately).  Looking back, the "hooking point" seems to have coincided with the introduction of a few interesting female characters.  Astounding!  A similar thing happened when I was reading Stephen King's Cell not long ago.  The two leading men were good characters and interesting to read, but the story itself sort of dragged during the initial zombie apocalypse.  (It wasn't really a zombie apocalypse, but it was pretty similar)  The book really started picking up for me when Alice joined the party.  (Fun fact: I can't actually remember the two "more important" characters' names; I think one was Tom?)  She was about half their age, so there was no romantic spice added, but her very presence and the fact of her femininity added a new dimension to each of the men.  (There was no romance anywhere in that book, come to think of it) 

Conversely, I just finished Roald Dahl's Sometime Never, and while I can't say it was a dreary book solely for the fact that there were no female characters, still, the fact remains that there were no female characters.  Wistrix Donn was a bad book for a lot of reasons.  Upon reflection, however, none of the female characters had anything particularly feminine about them (please note: by feminine, I don't mean "weak."  I consider Tolkein's Eowyn a supremely feminine character, warrior chick and all).  The only character whose femininity was a necessary character trait was the vixen who seduced men to kill them.  The others, really, could have been men and the story wouldn't have changed much at all. 

Examples abound on both sides (and I can find some counterexamples, too, but most of the ones in my experience are non-fiction; I've also never been a huge fan of single-gender plays like True West or Steel Magnolias), and while no one factor can really be singled out as the determining factor as to why I've liked some stories, both read and written, and not liked others, I have to concede that there is, at the least, a coincidence of correlation. 

Are you still reading?  Because this is probably boring to you, but it's really fascinating to me. 

All of this is to say that I'm discovering a new way my life informs my artistic choices.  I love women, but not just in the typical male-female attraction way.  I love the added dimension that women give to men.  I love the many different shades of the male-female dynamic.  A night out with three guys is an entirely different experience than a night out with two guys and one girl, and it doesn't matter if the girl is a major tomboy (not many girls are still true tomboys into their late twenties, you notice that?).  The entire dynamic of the evening is changed.  Women add spice and dimension to men, and hopefully men do the same for women.  When God said it was not good for man to be alone, it wasn't just because man was lonely, it was because he needed a woman to unlock other parts of who he really was--and not just romantically.  When I write, I find everything my male and female character do together interesting.  The way they joke together, the way they fight each other, the way they fight together, the way they pray together, it all interests me.  I truly believe they bring out the best--or at least, the most interesting--in each other.  "Male and female created He them."  That is one of the greatest services He ever did unto mankind. 

I'm not saying that, if I were actually headed for an unknown adventure on a mountainside, I'd rather go with a woman than with another man.  I am saying, however, that given a choice, I'm sure the adventure would be a lot more interesting with one of each ;-)

v2, d142: Last Five Years

Today is/was Kim and I's five year anniversary.  And you know what?  I don't think a lot of people realize what an accomplishment that really is. 

Not to toot my own horn here or anything, but if there's anything I've learned in the last five years it's that having a healthy marriage is hard.  So hard, it's not something I can say I've successfully accomplished at all times over the past half decade.  There have been times when I really have just not been up to the task, and we've paid for it.  And then we spent time building ourselves back up into something better and stronger than we were before.  And when I've fallen, it's happened so subtly and usually when I've had the best of intentions.  It's just really stinking hard to always have a good marriage.  Life becomes harder when you're married.  Marriage is the most difficult thing I've ever accomplished or considered attempting in my life.  Everything about life becomes multiplied by two, and it's not only your own struggles that are a part of your life anymore, it's your partner's, too. 

And I'm pretty sure I'm not making this up or exaggerating, either.  Look around.  Everybody knows multiple couples who have gotten divorced.  In fact, I'm pretty sure everybody who reads this knows more than one couple who split after fewer than five years.  When I've seen a couple celebrating their 50th anniversary, I've always thought, "Wow, those are some awesome, dedicated, strong people who are really committed to one another."  What I've recently learned, though, is that the same can be said of the couple who's stuck through fifteen years.  Through ten.  Even through five. 

Believe me, this isn't a "Poor me, life is so hard!" post.  I'm just saying that these realizations have really encouraged me to celebrate this date in a way I never really have before.  Because as much as the struggles, stresses, and fears of life are multiplied in a way you can never really be prepared for until it hits you, the same thing has to be said for the joys, the victories, and the celebrations.  While it's true I'll always feel like I've let my family down when I've failed, adding extra weight to the fall, I also have someone who shares in my victory when, by the grace of God, I succeed at something.  Likewise, I feel each of Kim's joys as genuinely as I feel my own.  And there's been a lot to celebrate during our relatively short time together, just as there's been a lot to grieve over. 

And, of course, that's life.  That's all of life, married, single, with children, without them, in a good job, in a bad job, young, old.  It's a series of wins and losses.  Sometimes the wins seem pretty insignificant, but they're still wins.  Looking back on all the hits Kim and I have taken--and are currently taking, because we're facing some big uncertainties every day as it is--I feel simultaneously proud and humbled that we have managed to get to this point.  I thank God a little more deeply for the blessings that have always been there in the good times and in the chaos.  I hear echoes of the testimonies of senior couples I've known--"We've been down before, but somehow we always made it through"--and I realize that's our story in the making.  And it gives a bit of peace; a bit of hope. 

I really do hate to gush about my marriage on this blog, because I know a lot of my readers are single, and that that's a painful truth for some.  But, in an age where marriages--especially young ones--are falling flat left and right because young lovers weren't prepared to be tempest-tossed, in days when cynicism and "modern living" seek to assassinate the romantic mystique of "till death do us part," in a time when bleeding hearts are doubting they'll ever be whole, I pray that God will bring glory to Himself and encouragement to others through our story. 

I thank everyone who celebrated with Kim and I in any fashion today, whether it was a Facebook comment or a tweet or a text or a kind word or free babysitting.  Or even just being happy with us.  A lot happens in five years.  A lot happens in five years.  I don't know where we'd be without the love and support of each of you in the down times, nor your laughter and fellowship in days of joy. 

Today, I really am incredibly blessed.

v2, d49: Expectations

(After-post edit: I always hate it when people type "We" when they really mean "I", and I now realize that's exactly what I did with this post. I apologize if you are not reflected in any of the following "We"'s and feel you have been unfaithfully projected into my own observation)

(After-post edit 2: I never re-read these things after I write them. I hope this makes sense)

Let's face it, we all have expectations for one another. We all have the potential to disappoint one another. We expect this guy to come through when given an assignment. We expect this other one to phone it in from time to time. We expect Woman A to get excited about a certain piece of news, and we expect Woman B to be disappointed. We think he'll most likely cry when he hears News X, we think she'll hate us when she finds out Object Y. We have a pretty good idea which of friends are going to be okay and which ones are going to get into trouble sooner or later.

And let's be honest: most of the time, we can be right about Person X and Person Y. We know she's not going to do anything dumb, because she's a smart girl. We know he's going to louse everything up, because he always has. We know they're going to get mad at each other, even if they don't yet. The people we're closest to rarely surprise us.

And then sometimes they do, and when it's a nice surprise we're not embarrassed by our lack of foresight; we simply rejoice in the delight of the surprise and have a great laugh about it later. But when the surprise lies on the other end of the spectrum, sometimes we can't help but feel a little betrayed. Sometimes even a little guilty.

"I should have seen this coming." "How could he/she have done this? He/she's not that kind of person?" It's a fairly significant shift in our worldview, at least on a personal level. "I thought he was a GOOD guy." "I thought she was a SMART girl." "I thought we could trust them!" As though the fact that they caught us by surprise with a bit of foolish judgment changes everything we thought we knew about our dear friend to begin with.

Look, it's impossible to avoid expectations. I give you ice cream, I expect you to be happy. I run over your dog, I expect you to be mad at me. There are very few situations in which I don't have an inkling of what you'll do when presented with a specific set of circumstances. And thus, it's impossible to avoid disappointment. When disappointment happens, though, I think it's important not to overreact. We weren't all wrong about our friend, our sister, our parent, our colleague, whoever let us down. Rather, I think it's important to let such events serve to remind us that all of the people we've pegged into certain holes in our minds--the Smart People, the Generous People, the Strong People, the Irresponsible People, the Sarcastic People--are, first and foremost, People. And people you can love. Expectations, not so much.


*********

(After-post edit #3: For some lighter fare, this is pretty bizarre. Gotta love the playoffs)

v2, d30: Insomnia: Another Perspective?

I'm starting to think maybe I'm going about this all the wrong way.

For the past several years, I've been praying that God would help me get more sleep. Generally speaking, though, that doesn't happen, and I end up spending a lot of time tired. This is the case currently, though I'm not sure if it's lack of sleep or overabundance of activity during my days. Probably both.

Anyway, my thoughts often turn to "Why can't I sleep why can't I sleep why can't I sleep" or "How can I sleep more" or "I need more rest." And I fully think I ought to be figuring out a healthier way to live, and I know sleeping more is a part of that. If, however, as currently seems to be the case, I simply can't get more rest, maybe my prayers ought to be more along the lines of, "God, please show me how I can best use these extra hours I'm not sleeping." Because let's face it, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep is not productive in any way, shape, or form. Instead of lamenting the unfortunate circumstances, maybe I ought to spend a bit more attention on doing the best I can with them.

Maybe not. Maybe, in this specific instance, that's only going to exacerbate the problem. But I'm going to give it a try and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe finding a more productive use of the wee hours of the morning will help me sleep deeper in the precious few hours I can manage.

Or, maybe I'll just crash in a month.

Bah. I'm probably headed for one of those sooner or later anyway ;-)

File your taxes, everybody!