Working for the man

               Well it looks as though my professional career is coming full circle. Six years ago I started working for Eaton Corporation in their electrical division, moved to the fluid power division, then took a job with another company called Cooper. Last week while your mother and I celebrated 7 years of marriage in Kauai I found out that Eaton was acquiring Cooper. In a few months I will be back to where I started, though in a different role, if they keep me around.

                This whole thing has got me thinking about my professional life, what I want to do, where I want to do it, and what the purpose of it all is. I like to make money, I look to find ways to make more money, starting a business, investments, getting promotions, I spend my time thinking about it, striving for it. Yet it doesn’t make me any happier, I guess I feel more respected by others, more secure knowing that we have financial reserves and I don’t have to stress myself out about paying bills, but not an increase of happiness or peace. I like to travel, spoil your mother, and you, and buy myself the occasional novelty. None of that leads to lasting fulfillment, just temporary highs. I guess I like to spend the most on travel, since those memories I can carry with me forever and the experiences bond you to the people you share them with.

                All of that rambling to say this. I don’t know how much I should sacrifice to gain something that may not be worth the gaining. We are conditioned in almost every country to look upon wealth as the ultimate goal, that those who have it are better, happier, and sexier than the rest of us. I think that view is the same as any stereotype, that is to say, false. There is a large part of me that wants to drive a nice car, live in a massive house, take lavish vacations and buy clothes that cost 400% more than they should, all so that I feel, and that others think, that I am important, special, worthy of respect and a possessor of power over this world. If I accomplish it all, I will die the same death as the poorest of the poor, the same darkness, the same ultimate end, just a different journey to the same destination. Though we cannot ask, I doubt someone with billions of dollars feels any more at peace with death in the final moment than someone with one dollar.

                So what is your father to do? I imagine taking a small 9 to 5 job somewhere in a beautiful location, working with my hands and coming home to your mother and you every night. I imagine owning a small business that will never make me rich or envied, but will leave me peaceful and content. I also imagine sending you to college, having a vacation home for us, continually challenging myself in my career and allowing us to see the world. My dreams clash with one another and I struggle to know which is wiser. In the end I know God will direct my steps as surely as he has thus far in my life. When I was young, and even starting college the life I live now and the career I have had was completely unknown to me, life just happens as you prepare for it.

                I am telling you about all these things to share my heart, so you know what your father struggles with. I want to be a good man, a good husband, and a good father. I think finances play a part in each of those roles. I don’t just want to “put bread on the table” I want to surround that table with a nice house in a good neighborhood, and make sure we see the world outside our door. I want to use the talents God has given me to provide for the church as well as for my family, so that my earthy gains can have a lasting impact in the lives of others, which is why your mother and I tithe and why we went to Africa, and why someday we will take you back.

                I will tell you this right now, in any life there is a measure of success and failure. There are those who make very little, but live great lives, and there are those who have more than can be imagined who are mired in misery. I will love you no matter what your financial success is in life; my only concern is that you have a purpose.

                One great thing about any failures I face is that your mother and you are there for me. My two beautiful ladies. At the end of the day no matter the job I do, the stress in my career, I will always have the two of you. You can be certain that the reverse will also always be true.

Washington Vacation

                 Do you know what is a poor combination? 5 hour flights and 18 month old children! We took you on a trip to the east coast, to see your moms cousin get married. It is so much fun to have you with us, but, as you will someday understand, a great deal less relaxing!

                Its too bad you wont remember it but, we saw where the constitution was signed, the liberty bell, a couple of the Smithsonian museums, the holocaust museum- which thank the Lord you slept through, the Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, Vietnam, WWII, Korean, MLK and FDR monuments and the battle field where the civil war started. It was a busy week and we made the most of our time. All in all you did well, and it was fun to cuddle in the same bed again like we used to do when you were a little baby.

                You seem to change so much each week, now you try to repeat almost everything you hear, which means your father has to watch his tongue! Your putting together three word phrases and your facial expressions are multiplying. Each day I see my little baby girl grow up a little more, I don’t wish I could stop it, I am just glad that I get to take it all in and spend this time with you.

                It made me think walking around all those monuments last week. I was fascinated how hard we work, and how much we struggle to be remembered for something. It is not only the people who are passed away who wanted to be remembered, we look at those monuments and we think it gives us a piece of them to hold onto. It doesn’t matter if it is a national tourist attraction or a simple headstone in a lonely cemetery. While we are living we struggle to matter, and to be noticed and appreciated. After the living are gone we erect monuments so that we can hold onto them a bit longer, and pretend that their lives had a significance that will last.

                I struggle with the same things, wanting to achieve ever more in life, more money, nicer things, more skills and accolades. Yet I know when I die that nothing will make my death distinguishable from any other, nothing will make it easier. I doubt my last thought will be thank God I lived in that nice house, or worked so hard for so many years to buy all that stuff and have all those people be impressed by me. I would think about you, your mother, and if I lived a good life that God would be proud of.

                People don’t dwell on mortality as they used to, death is not a subject often discussed in detail or great length, because it is troubling when you are enjoying life to think about it ending. As I grow older and older I feel as though I have lived well, but I want to do better. Be a better husband, father, man of God, friend, brother, son. I want to live a life I can be at peace about, no matter who is watching. There will be no monument to me when I go. My name will not be etched in stone, or even in the pages of history, but none of that troubles me. For those things too shall pass, I would rather be forgotten by the world and remembered by God.

                I hope as you grow and experience life you will make wise decisions, and follow a path that will make me proud. Even if you stray from that path I will always have faith and trust that you will return. I don’t daydream about you accomplishing great things, or being famous. I daydream about you living a full life, with love, peace, passion, fulfillment, joy, laughter, and purpose. I will always be proud of you; you will always be my joy.

Cora, this one isn’t for you sweetie. I still think about you almost every day, when I see your big sister I especially think about you. My heart really longs to know who you were, how you smelled and how beautiful and sweet you were. Life has gone forward here, as it does. The winter is leaving and the days are growing longer and warmer, the air is filled with the smell of orange blossoms and everywhere there is life. But my mind is still with you, my heart still feels you, in my prayers I sometimes reach out to you. I don’t want you to think that because I go on I forget for an instant, I don’t want you to think I have left you behind. You are always with me and I will always be a part of you. I doubt that where you are there is time or even necessity for such thoughts, but I couldn’t stand the possibility that you feel unloved. Wherever I go, as long as I live and draw breath you will be with me and will have my love, and someday I will return to the Father and find you waiting. You have a family that loves you, and a Father who holds you now, and a father who will hold you someday.

We found out today that something went wrong in your mothers pregnancy. The little precious life that was growing inside of her stopped growing. It’s a numbing feeling, coming over you slowly like the cold of the night creeping into your bed. Loss is a terrible thing; sorrow is a painful reminder of why we have faith, what we hold dearest, and what truly matters in this short life.

I was ok until I read Psalms 139. I was ok through not hearing the heartbeat, thinking the ultrasound would reveal life, and I was mostly empty after it did not. I comforted your mother, and I struggled with what to think, what to feel, and then I read about how intimately God knows each of us. How intimately He knew our child, the child I will never know, but the child my heart also longs for.

You were a great comfort to us through this. Your sweet smile and kisses, cuddles and hugs helped to soften the sting. We are so blessed to have you; we do not take you for granted for an instant. As I write to you I feel as though there is a piece of me missing, something I am searching for but cannot find. I wanted so badly to meet the life that was growing inside of your mother, just as I longed to meet you and hold you in this world.

I wonder if it was a son or daughter, what color eyes, hair, how sweet the little voice would be. I wonder if my child knows how much I loved it already, and love it still. I believe that life begins at the moment of conception, that a life two minutes old is as sacred as one twenty years old. I believe I will someday see my child. I know that we never knew its name, but that God always did, and that he called that life home.

My sweet sweet daughter. I would spare you from every pain in this world if I could, but I would certainly spare your from the sweetness of joy, from the lessons of wisdom, and from the grace and abundance of God. There is nothing I do to deserve to live these 28 years, and nothing my child did to live only 10 weeks. I know your brother or sister is in heaven. I know we will meet again someday. I know that there is an end to all things, and I am grateful that I have lived to see the beginning of so much life. “your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psl 139: 15-16

If love can exist between two people, before one is in existence, and the other aware of who his heart is longing for, surely I have always loved you.

Well, your first real Christmas has come and gone. I say your first real Christmas because last time you were not able to move very much, let alone understand a single thing that was going on. I think one of your favorite parts about Christmas this year were the snowmen, which you called Mahh-Tahs. There was lots of love, lots of presents, and certainly a lot of family watching and adoring your every move.

Some exciting news we found out is that next Christmas you will not be an only child. We don’t yet know if you will have a little brother or sister yet, but come September you will have to share your affections with another, but I promise there will still be plenty to go around. As you get older it will be a lot of fun for you to have a sibling on Christmas, someone else to get excited with, wake up early with, and share presents with. I don’t have many great memories of Christmas that don’t involve my brother.

When I think of Christmas there are so many things that stand out vividly in my mind, I hope they still will years from now. I remember my grandfathers Cadillac, and about 8 of us piling in to drive to the candle light service at North Phoenix Baptist Church. I loved that car ride. I remember sitting in the balcony with my family, my brother and I both carving away on our candles. I remember how the whole place lit up and the church softly sang quiet night, it was so peaceful and comforting. I loved waking up early with my brother, being so excited the night before we could hardly stand it. I loved standing outside in the cold, looking at the lights on the house, looking at the stars and trying to savor every moment.
There is no balcony anymore at North Phoenix, and so also a great many things have changed. I felt that even more this year, the changes, the longing for what was, slowly transforming into the joy of what is. Now there is you, and your mother, new traditions and memories to delight in. I will always remember how cute you looked bundled up in your Christmas clothes, how excited you got to tear the paper and play with your new toys- even if it only took 45 seconds before you moved onto the next. I will always remember looking at you and being grateful that I would be there as my parents were with me, to live vicariously through your sweet youth, and be reminded of why we celebrate Christmas. I suppose that sentence could be misleading. We don’t celebrate so that parents can relive their youth through their children, we celebrate the joy that comes from salvation, and that salvation came from a child born of a virgin who lived the only selfless life this world has ever known.

When you look back someday you will most likely remember some of the presents you received throughout the years, but what will stand out the most will be the memories that have nothing to do with gifts. Memories of family and traditions, of silly moments, and magical ones, silent nights, and the smell of the Christmas tree. We will always have a real tree, mom will make cinnamon rolls, she will also yell at me for whistling Christmas songs too much, I will put up some great exterior lighting, and we will watch the Christmas story, possibly Elf, and probably Christmas Vacation. We will take time to observe why we are really celebrating, and we will come together as a family. I love that you are part of this now, part of me.
I love you sweetheart.

Sometimes we spend all day together. Your mother works on the weekend occasionally, and so its just me and you, from 6:30am until you go to bed at 7pm. At first I kind of freaked out. I am a selfish person, and before you came along I simply went about the business of being me, and in that line of work I do whatever I want whenever I want. It was nice, perhaps somewhat self indulgent, but comfortable and nice. Then there was you, and me, and no time for selfishness.

Today for instance we got up, played around the house and had breakfast- yogurt with flaxseed, your favorite. I then changed 3 diapers within an hours time, one when you woke up and then you decided to poop twice 20 min apart. Then we watched Nebraska get pummeled by Michigan, went to the store, had a nap, went to the park, dropped off some dogfood, and came home and had dinner together. It was a fun and full day, and I wouldn’t trade it for any other.

When I put you to bed at night I look at you, lying there sweetly, your whole life ahead of you. I think about where I am now, and how far you have to come. I wonder how long it will be before you are preparing your own children for bedtime. I wonder how much of this sweet youth I will remember. You are simply the best thing, and the most challenging thing in my life. Your mother brought you into this world, and now I feel I must guide you through it. At the same time I cant help but think of how much I will miss every moment once it is gone, so many sweet kisses and cuddles, giggles and funny faces and gibberish. I love my days with you, tomorrow will be another. We are going to take the ridgebacks for a walk and I am going to try out our new hiking backpack- I think you will love it.

I love you, and I love that you have changed me, like no one else ever could. One blonde girl took me halfway, and now a little blonde girl has come to take me the rest of the way. I am no longer the man I once was, now I am a husband, and your father, and I am happy.

I had a conversation with a young woman a few weeks ago. We were discussing the guy she was seeing, who her family was not very fond of, and who had not treated her in the best way. A week or so after that we went to one of your mothers’ friend’s wedding- Alexis Butler. As I held you and watched them exchange vows I began to think of what makes a man worthy of a good woman, or perhaps more simply, what makes a great man. Who would I want you to marry someday?

One of the questions I asked the young woman was, “what do you respect about your boyfriend?” I cant say she had a complete answer. Someday I will ask you the same thing, what do you respect about the man you want to marry. As they say respect is something you earn, it’s something that comes from others observing how you live your life and the quality with which you carry yourself. When I think of a man worthy of respect I think of these traits: selflessness, courage, leadership, stewardship, tenderness, wisdom, faithfulness, honesty, ambition, and perhaps most importantly humility.

Of the traits I just mentioned, I am by no means well rounded. Of all the things humility is the best starting point for the others, I put it at the end only for emphasis. Your mother has certainly humbled me, right down to my core, sometimes to the point where I hated her. It was not my heart that hated her though; it was my pride, my sinful nature, my selfishness raging against her heart that cried out for mine to be humble. It is one thing to be humble before God, he isn’t necessarily around to tell you when you are not being so, it is another thing altogether to be humble to another person. Humility has been my greatest teacher, and my most challenging stumbling block, but without it no man is complete, and without it no man can ever truly love.

Someday love will come, along with a lot of other men that are not love. It will be up to you to separate the wheat from the chaff. I hope you have the wisdom of your mother, and when you marry, I hope you have the strength to endure the pains of love that come with the joys. I hope you choose a man who is growing, that cares about many things more than himself, and above them all you. I hope he has the traits I wrote of. Mostly, and most terrifyingly, I hope that you will, having had me as a father, know exactly the kind of man you should marry. I will do my best not to fail you, to be the example you deserve, and to always be learning how to be a better husband to your mother, and father to you. I love you sweet girl.