marriage & parenting

A Tale of Two Hospitals

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Last month, I had a day that started and ended in hospitals…two different hospitals, in two different counties, by the side of two different family members.

That was not my favorite day.

The first visit was a planned procedure for my wife. Arriving at the hospital at 6 AM, we were advised that Jody should be ready to go home six hours later.

I entertained visions of all the tasks I could accomplish in those hours and still return to the hospital before Jody’s anesthesia wore off.

But when Jody mentioned to the nurse that I was going to leave and come back, the nurse shot a glare at me that said, ‘What kind of heartless-monster are you?’

So I canned my dreams of yard work and resigned to the fact that my next six hours would be spent devouring every issue of Better Homes and Gardens and O Magazine that I could lay my hands on.

I did end up leaving the hospital briefly to grab breakfast, which elicited another ‘heartless-monster’ stare. Apparently, nurses are trained to deliver that stare to dopey husbands like myself.

Six hours of reading women’s magazines sort of felt like ten, but I survived and got some great recipes for summer salads. Oh yeah, Jody survived too.

Fast-forward five hours, and I am prepping the grill for dinner. My eleven-year-old son (Alex), who was shooting baskets in the driveway, bursts into the house frantically, trailing a stream of blood. He falls to the ground holding his toe, blood pooling on the floor.

And my response was, “Alex are you kidding me!?” It is responses like that which may prevent me from winning the Father of the Year award yet again.

But my reaction was based on the fact that two weeks earlier he burst through that same door missing a large patch of skin from the same toe. After which, we had an extensive conversation about the benefits of wearing shoes while playing basketball.

Apparently, my pro-shoe argument was not persuasive enough, and as a result, I found myself speeding up the interstate for my second hospital visit of the day.

Two hours and three stitches later we were home. Both of the patients were on the mend, and my patience was mending as well.

As I lay in bed that night reflecting on my day, I wasn’t pleased with my responses to the situations in which I found myself. I should have known that my role as a husband meant I was going to sit in the waiting room for six hours. The nurses’ glares told me that should have been a foregone conclusion, but it wasn’t for me.

And I should have reacted better to my son’s injury. My concern for his well-being should have trumped my anger. Both of my reactions were born out of selfishness. I was worried about my time and my inconvenience. As the leader of my home, my concern for my family needs to be on par or above my own.

I quietly and humbly recognized that in the still of the night and prayed for the strength and wisdom to react better.

Here’s to hoping that happens. And here’s to hoping I never have another two-hospital kind of day.

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Skate or Die

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I am 41, and I still dress like I am 14. My closet is full of skateboarding t-shirts, and most often you’ll find Vans on my feet.

I actually do own some nice clothes and spend 40 hours a week looking like I live in a Dockers commercial. But I always return to what is comfortable for me.

I haven’t even stood on a skateboard for at least a few years. And the last time I checked, my skateboarding abilities had greatly diminished over the last 25 years. There was a time, though, when I was skilled.

I first started skating around 11 years old, and over the five years that followed, I invested countless hours honing my abilities. By the time I was 16, I was proficient with a skateboard.

Over the next couple of years, this hobby would fizzle from my life. But skateboarding, as part of my identity, stuck. In the 25 years since then, I have had many other hobbies and interests, but my first love for seven-ply decks and polyurethane wheels still lingers.

A few formative years in my youth forged a portion of my identity that has transcended nearly three decades. The formation of a life-long label happens to many of us.

For some, we learned we were good at something as an adolescent, and we obsessively honed that area of our lives. And though we no longer play football, gig in a band or dance competitively, those are still key pieces of our identity.

Others had negative labels applied to our lives early on that still haunt us. Even though I was good at skateboarding, I was mostly terrible at traditional sports. Standing 6-foot-3, many folks assume I possess some basketball abilities. They assume wrong.

My ineptitude at sports still affects me to this day. When someone asks if I want to play basketball, I flash back to seventh grade and feel like that lanky awkward kid who was bound to embarrass himself.

I know I am not alone. We all have tags that have been placed on us. Whether we were clumsy, weird or we just made some poor decisions along the way, we have all likely had negative labels applied to our lives.

Even worse, we have probably applied some of those labels to ourselves. We tag ourselves as not good enough, not smart enough or not attractive enough – when in fact we are enough.

We do the same in our relationships. When our marriage hits rocky patches or we don’t measure up to the social media feeds of our friends, we tag our relationship as damaged.

When our dreams of a fairy tale marriage dissolve into the reality of broken vows and violated trust, we label our relationship as irreconcilable.

When we identify our spouses as lazy, uncaring or self-centered, the more we view them through that lens. Then it becomes easier to see all of their habits that support this view and harder to see the positive traits they possess.

My suggestion (learned the hard way) – lose the labels. Don’t tag your relationship with a label that will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you view your relationship as beyond repair, it won’t be repaired. If you see your spouse as unworthy, you won’t recognize their worth. If you see yourself as not enough, you’ll never be enough.

 

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Marriage Is A Beautiful Mistake

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I love JRR Tolkien. I know that is a bold declaration.

Making an obvious statement like that is like declaring that ‘I hate genocide’ or ‘I am pro-vacation.’ It is a forgone conclusion. I mean, who doesn’t love Tolkien’s adventure stories?

Beyond Tolkien’s brilliant prose that’s led many a reader on epic journeys of the mind, he was also a prolific proponent of marriage. Married for over 55 years to his teenage sweetheart, Tolkien held a very healthy, pragmatic view of marriage, which he passed on to future generations.

In a letter to his son Michael, Tolkien mused:

“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the ‘real soul-mate’ is the one you are actually married to.”

As brilliant as Tolkien was, I don’t think Hallmark was beating down his door to write Happy Anniversary cards. The thought that most of us could have married mates that better suit us, but we’re stuck with what we have doesn’t exactly warm the heart.

The notion of a soul-mate, of a single person who is destined to come riding across a rainbow on a unicorn to complete us, is rubbish. But I love how Tolkien concludes the thought – your soul-mate is the one you’re married to.

My wife and I could not be more different. I am fairly certain that Match.com would never have paired us up. We are a classic odd couple who are polar opposites in many areas of our lives.

While this has created conflict over the years, it is also a strength. We nudge (sometimes more than a nudge) each other out of our comfort zones. Many couples, though, let their differences break them instead of strengthen them.

Tolkien went on to say, “When the glamour wears off, or merely works a bit thin, they think they have made a mistake, and that the real soul-mate is still to find.”

This notion that there is somebody better out there who will really get us and who will better meet our needs is what drives many to divorce. When our spouse becomes deficient at recognizing our needs, or worse – we think they are intentionally neglecting needs, the appeal of others can grow in our minds.

The idea that we deserve more is a seed the enemy plants in our mind. And far too often, we water that seed and nurture it after an argument, when our spouse fails to pick up their socks again or has stayed too late at work once more. We give life to this noxious weed until it chokes out our marriage and blossoms into infidelity, divorce or lifelong disappointment.

The seed we should nurture is the idea Tolkien shared – we are married to our soul-mate. We should focus on what is awesome about them.

What drew us to them in the first place? What are their most compelling traits? What do they do that makes us smile? What do they do that makes us proud? How have their differences challenged us to grow?

When you find the answers to these questions, dwell on them. Share them with your spouse. And when your spouse disappoints, return to these thoughts.

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Life’s A Beach

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I am tan. It is almost a freakish, George Hamilton kind of tan.

I just returned from a two-week vacation in Florida where my family paid homage to the great fiery ball in the sky by basking in its rays for longer than humans probably should.

We all survived without any major sunburns though. And we got to spend some much-needed time recharging our batteries while hanging out with our extended family.

I am actually not much of a beach guy. I go to the beach every year because my family loves it, but I would rather spend my vacation exploring our world. I know – the sacrifices I am willing to make for my family!

There are, however, things I definitely enjoy about our beach vacations. Seeing family, digging giant holes in the sand, consuming mass quantities of aquatic life and not being at work top the list. I also like to simply float in the ocean. I go beyond the breaking waves, lay on my back, close my eyes and just float.

It is relaxing to me. I am becoming more buoyant with age, so it is easy to drift in the ocean with very little effort.

At some point though, a wave hits me or I find that I have drifted awkwardly close to another family. So I have to get upright, gain my bearings and figure out how far I’ve traveled from my condo.

Because inevitably as soon as my feet lift off the sandy ocean floor, I begin to drift. This year as I lay atop the salty sea floating farther and farther from my family, it occurred to me how easily it is to drift in life. This happens regularly in my marriage.

Through 17 years of marriage, if I have learned anything, it is that I have to be deliberate and intentional to be a good husband. I cannot just float through my marriage and hope for the best, because as soon as I stop working at it, I begin to drift.

Much like the ocean, there are forces at play beneath the surface that will drag us far from home if we are not actively working against the tide. Our lives are awash with commitments, addictions, hobbies and a myriad of distractions that, like an undertow, will pull us from our spouses.

I floated through the first decade of my marriage. I thought bringing home paychecks, not cheating on my wife and taking her on a date once a year made me a pretty good husband.

I was wrong.

I drifted for years before I finally realized just how far I had gotten from my wife.

And I still have natural tendencies like introversion, selfishness and pride that will set me adrift if I don’t actively fight against them.

For me, the best ways to stand firm against the tide are to ensure I’m rooted through daily prayer, intentional communication with my wife and regular reminders (through classes or books) of what makes a great husband.

Have you drifted in any areas of your life? What are you doing to get back to shore? What should you be doing?

 

 

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Be the Change

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One of the most tattoo-worthy quotes to ever emblazon a meme is, “Be the change.” Shortened from “Be the change you wish to see in the world,” the origin of this quote is apparently misattributed to Gandhi.

If you want to waste 20 minutes of your life as I did, you can read the raging debates among internet scholars to arrive at the same conclusion I did – who cares? The origin of this quote does not matter. It could have come from Dr. Phil, Forrest Gump or Miley Cyrus for all I care.

What matters is that it is a beautifully simple, profound suggestion. If you want to see change in the world around you, become an agent of that change. Duh!

It is so simple, yet putting this idea into practice seems too difficult for most of us to bother. After all, what can one person do to affect change? Can we really change the world?

The answer to that question is an unequivocal YES. We can absolutely change the world. Now we may not alter the course of human events or earn a page in history books, but we have the power to change the world of those around us.

We all have spheres of influence in which we can create change. I think of this sphere like a body of water.

Some of us live in small ponds where the shores of our influence might not be wide-spread. While some of our social circles are more like large lakes. Every action we take has some impact on that body of water, like tossing a stone into its depths.

Our more mundane actions cast pebbles into the water leaving little ripples that dissipate quickly. But some of the choices we make or the words we let fly are like boulders crashing through the water’s surface. The waves are large and far-reaching. If you are married, your spouse is probably most affected by your waves.

Within that relationship often lies the greatest opportunity to change the world. Over the last couple of years, I have had several men share with me that their marriages were hurting and heading towards divorce. Without fail, those conversations inevitably turned to complaints about what their wives do or don’t do to contribute to their marital strife.

My advice, without fail, is “you need to focus on you.”

If we want our relationships to change, we have to change. I can almost guarantee that those wives who weren’t living up to their husbands’ expectations could share similar lists about their husbands’ shortcomings.

Put another way, “If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got.” That line is a little too long for a tattoo, but the sentiment is similar.

We have the power to change our world for the better. But if we don’t change, we can’t expect our relationships to change.

You want to change the world? Do it.

Start today by being unexpectedly kind and gracious to your spouse regardless of how they act towards you.

Stop complaining. Drop an annoying habit. Pick up a healthy discipline. Pray for your spouse daily. Hug more. Go on more dates. Talk more. Be the change.

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My Kind of Minimalism

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Last week Jody and I watched a film called Minimalism: A Documentary About the Important Things. This was not a feel-good piece, but the movie was definitely thought-provoking.

At the film’s end Jody posed a simple question, “What are you going to do about it?”

I don’t yet know the specific answer to that question, but my general answer is ‘something.’ I want to do something about it.

For the uninitiated, The Minimalists are a couple of former corporate lackeys who exited the rat race, forgoing their six-figure salaries and their cocoons of comfortable possessions to pursue more meaningful lives.

According to their own words, Minimalism is, “a lifestyle that helps people question what things add value to their lives. By clearing the clutter from life’s path, we can all make room for the most important aspects of life: health, relationships, passion, growth, and contribution.”

This was a fitting film to watch during Lent. The forty days we spend in this season are meant to be more intentional and more focused. We strip away the habitual and nonessential to clear the path to clarity during these weeks.

These 40 days represent the time Jesus spent in the wilderness enduring temptation. During his time in the desert, He was promised all the kingdoms and riches of the world if He would only compromise his principles. Yet He didn’t waiver to the allure of excess.

Before the documentary’s credits were even done rolling, Jody was ready to put a For Sale sign in our yard. While I am not quite ready to make that leap, the idea of stripping away unnecessary spending and the resulting clutter has great appeal to me.

As I traversed this Lenten season, stripping away the unessential was a focal point. But my brand of minimalism has been focused on mental and emotional clutter. I am thinking less of the things I need to remove from my life and more of thoughts that are weighing me down.

What lies are keeping me stuck?

What unhealthy mental patterns play out in my life?

What areas of my life have I put on cruise control?

Where do I need to grow? What is keeping me from growing?

What unimportant pursuits am I allowing to steal my time?

What habits should I let go of?

What thoughts should I let go of?

These are the questions that have been burning in my mind during Lent – questions further stoked by this documentary. What mental and emotional baggage am I carrying that is cluttering up my life?

I struggle with self-inflicted anxiety and stress. I worry too much about what people think about me and often overcompensate as a result. These stressors lead me to be impatient and angry, sometimes with the folks I love the most.

These are just a few pieces of the baggage I carry – the clutter that creates discontent in my life.

What am I going to do about it?

Something…definitely something.

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The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step – A Big Scary Step

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My faith journey has been a long, difficult road. I started out strong as a kid, but in my teen years I began a prolonged detour that lasted into my 30s.

One of my personality traits that has made this journey difficult is my fear of large tasks.

Whether it is home repair, work projects or self-improvement, I look at undertakings that require many steps and many hours of work, and paralysis sets in – keeping me from taking the first step.

Or I may take the first couple steps but leave the job undone. My wife loves it when I do that with home projects.

When it came to my faith, I saw the ideal state that I wanted to attain; I saw my broken state.  There was a light year between the two, and part of me thought, “I will never get there.”

But when I finally fully committed to this journey, I completely changed my view of the destination.

I used to look at Christianity like it was joining a karate dojo. I thought you mastered certain disciplines, demonstrated that mastery to your sensei and were awarded a new belt until you worked your way up to black belt status. There were so many belts between white and black that I couldn’t muster the energy to work on the first discipline.

Now I see my commitment to this journey much differently. To me faith is more of a compilation of many little choices that I make each day.

Every day I face dozens of decisions. The instant I wake up, I am presented with choices: Do I hit snooze? Do I exercise? Do I read the Bible? Do I go into work early? Do I write a blog?

Some of the decisions I face are significant, while most seem pretty mundane. But they all have the power to create change. All of my choices create some ripple in the universe, big or small, that will affect me and those around me.

What will I do next? What will I say next? What thoughts will I allow to take up residence in my mind? When I break my journey up into small decisions like this, faith seems a lot less intimidating.

I will be the first to tell you that I don’t always make the best decisions. Some of the paths I take are selfish or lazy. I don’t always think about what the impact will be to my wife or my kids.

Sometimes words escape my mouth that I wish I could take back. Sometimes I lose sight of the bigger picture.

But I choose more right paths than wrong. As a result, the overall trajectory of my journey is positive. I am continually moving towards growth even with all the backward steps I take. The man I want to become isn’t some far-off destination. He is here now – being formed one small decision at a time.

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On the Road Again

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As I write this, I am 35-thousand feet above the ground hurtling away from my family at a rate of 450 miles per hour, bound for Los Angeles.

I remember a time in my life when I thought this was cool – visiting far-off places, eating funky foods and breaking from the routine of life. While I still enjoy those things, they are most enjoyable when shared with my wife.

I am en route to a business meeting that will consist of around 60 of my peers. Confession time – I am not a fan of business trips. But I bet if I were to poll my peers on how much they enjoy business trips, I would get a variety of responses.

Some of these folks likely share my distaste for business travel. For some this trip is probably a welcome break. It may be an escape from a chaotic home situation.

There are homes filled with newborn cries. There is the stress of sick or aging parents. There are likely marriages in crisis. There are teenager troubles…terrible twos…teething tots. There is the lingering pain of lost loved ones.

I know this to be true, because my home has been filled with many of these same struggles. Our house is often loud. We often forget to be patient with each other. We fail to recognize that others in the house might have had an even worse day than we did.

On any given day, there can be all sorts of challenges awaiting me when I walk through the door.

But I love it. The highlight of most of my days is when I walk through that door.

As crazy as my home can be, it is also a source of peace in my life. It is the space where I get to fulfill my greatest calling. It is where I practice humility, patience and grace – where I can fail miserably at those traits and know I won’t be fired. It is where I am a respected leader and where I am being led.

It is my oasis. And I do everything in my power to ensure I spend as much time there as possible.

I work extremely hard to protect my time with my family. This means I can carry a lot of stress at work as I do all in my power to leave on time each day. Time management is essential in my life.

When it’s not possible to complete my weekly work within 40 hours, I go in early (versus staying late) to add productive time. If I don’t have minutes to spare, I avoid small talk and stay laser-focused on my tasks. I work through lunches, and I don’t schedule meetings that aren’t essential.

I go to great lengths and shoulder a lot of weight to consistently walk through my garage door around the same time each evening.

And it is so worth it. My greatest achievements each day don’t happen at work. They happen in my home when I am present with my wife and kids. I cannot wait to get home!

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I Quit

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Effective January 1st, I retired.  No, I didn’t leave my 9-5 job.  I quit a brief, but illustrious, career as a zombie slayer.

You see, a couple months back I loaded an app onto my phone that launched me into a post-apocalyptic world where I had to survive zombie attacks and raids from opposing camps. I quickly learned the ropes and hardened into a grizzled survivor.

My team grew in strength. I collected better weapons.  I annihilated opposing crews, leaving bodies in my wake.  I joined a faction and rose through its ranks.  Then, with one quick swipe of my finger, I left it all behind.

I realized that I had compromised my real life in order to build a fictitious empire that amounted to nothing. The goal of game developers is ultimately to get users to spend real money on virtual stuff.  Because I’m so cheap, I refused to spend money on the game, which meant I had to earn stuff the old fashioned way, through the investment of my time.

When I started playing this game, I set out some rules for myself. I vowed that I wouldn’t play when I was spending time with my wife or kids, and I wouldn’t spend any money. The money rule held fast, but I let the other rule slip from time to time.

I found myself sneaking in quick battles during any moments of downtime. Then I noticed I was letting the game seep into other areas of my life. In my car before work, at lunch, in the bathroom, during my morning reading time, when I was supposed to be playing Barbies with my daughter, in bed at night – I was slaying zombies.

The beginning of a new year is a time when many of us take stock of our lives and seek to eliminate bad habits while establishing good practices. It became clear to me shortly after I started playing, that this was a habit that had to go.  Not only was this game distracting, but it was a time stealer.

I shudder to think about how many hours I actually wasted building a kingdom of nothingness on my phone. The game tracked how many ‘raids’ I did, and I’m embarrassed to say that my total was around 1400.  With each battle taking around a minute to complete, that is 23 hours that I threw in the trash can, not to mention the time I spent doing other actions in the game.

The moment I dragged the game’s icon across the screen of my phone into a virtual trash can was so liberating. My time is too precious to fritter away on empty pursuits. There is value in recreation, and video games are not inherently bad.  But I had let this game get out of hand, and I let it steal valuable moments away from me.

What are the zombies stealing time from your life? Do you need to retire from something? If so, there’s no better time than now to make the change.

turn off & tune in to your spouse