I’m like that old faucet: the gaskets holding back the pressure of my grief are worn and brittle. Little rivers of pain now leak out of the weak spots. I am powerless to stop them until I find a way to remove and reinstall the whole darn thing. I can’t half-fix me like I did the faucet; I need to rip out all of the old parts and put in new defenses against failure. Then, I’ll be the man I want to be— the man God intends for me to be. Continue reading “Old Pots and Leaking Faucets”
I hesitated to write this. Seeing it on the page only makes it more real. I hesitated to post it even more, as the act of putting this out for public consumption feels sinfully self-indulgent. I wrote it, then put it away, then pecked at it again, then let it sit for a couple of weeks to see if I still felt that this was full of the brutal honesty I intended to be. In the end, I guess my purpose is this: Down the road, I want my girls to understand that my problem isn’t their fault. I also want them to know that it is always OK to reach out for help. I want them to know that if they are struggling, they need not suffer alone. Insisting on bearing burdens alone isn’t self sufficiency; loneliness is only the state of listening to your own unwise counsel. And for you, dear reader, know this: Don’t hesitate to find the help you need. After spending the past several weeks inventorying the last 40 years of my life, I wish I had reached out much earlier. Continue reading “Darkness and a Mound of Ashes”
Facts are important. The truth is sacred and inflexible. Everyone has the right to an opinion. Not all opinions are worthy of analysis. True leadership steers a course of hope. It does not maneuver in response to fear.
Continue reading “Facts, Leaders and Opinions”
I happen to believe that this is all a part of God’s plan, more or less; at least, I hope that whatever it is that I am doing fits His purposes in one way or another. One thing is for sure: Disrupting events aren’t always bad things. Sometimes they are very good. Continue reading “Childhood Dreams Fulfilled and a Ferry Ride”
I know that there is a beautiful and sensitive woman in that confused teenage frame. Maybe I just need to be a better father to help you see it. I know other fathers must go through this as well, but I can’t help but think that I am exceptionally poor at trying to help you find your way. Continue reading “Breaking Dams and Sister Time”
Time owns us, in a sense. It is the one resource that we cannot make more of. In some ways, I think I am more sensitive to time’s passage than many others; my experiences with loss and my professional life have made me keenly aware of the perishability of both time and our own lives. So, I am jealous that time dictates the time I have with you. I wish I could partition off a piece of spacetime, and in doing so reserve a place of impassibility where we could spend our special moments in one another’s company. Continue reading “Accepting Unacceptable”
My favorite Christmas memories have been those holidays spent with you, no matter how lean the times were. I cherished taking you to church and holding your hands as we listened to the familiar verses from Luke and Isaiah. I never missed reading to you from my copy of Twas the Night Before Christmas. I would spend hours penning letters to you from Santa Claus, sometimes finishing minutes before you awoke. Those times are some of the most rewarding moments I have spent alive. Continue reading “Christmas Past, Christmas Future: The Real Gifts”