The Epitaph

As someone who has always been interested in ancestry and history, every now and then I might wander around older cemeteries reading gravestones. It’s not uncommon to find inscriptions such as, “Beloved Husband and Father” or “Beloved Daughter, Taken Too Soon” or something sentimental such as, “Loved In This Life And In The Next.”  I’ve wondered how these individuals earned these inscriptions or if they were just ascribed to them by a caring survivor.

My wife, Kim, and I watched an episode of “Raymond” where Raymond and his brother, Robert, were sitting in the front seat of a car arguing about who was “going to get mom.”  And it wasn’t so much as to who was going to “get” her, but who was going to end up “taking care” of her.  Because their mother was overbearing, a meddler, and rather outspoken, neither wanted her and Raymond and Robert went to great lengths to convince the other why the other should be the one to take care of her.

Sitting around our dinner table one evening, Kim, Hannah, Emily and I were talking about the future.  Hannah wants to stay either in Virginia or on the West Coast.  Emily would just as soon head back to Wisconsin because she doesn’t mind the snow and cold and wants to be around family.  Kim and I want to be warm.  We would joke with them about marrying someone rich or getting a nice job so that they can take care of us when we get older.  They announced to us that if something should happen to Kim and if I was left, Emily would “get” me.  Wil and Hannah had already decided that.

“Get” me.  I know it was meant as a joke, but  . . .

“Get” me.

Got me thinking . . .

I know I love our kids dearly.  Each one is unique and special in his or her way to me, to us.  I’d written in an earlier post that I would gladly give them the sun, the moon, and the stars if I could.  I really mean that.  And, I know they love me.  As a parent, sometimes there are uncomfortable conversations and sometimes uncomfortable consequences for decisions, words or actions that all parents and their kids face.  I get that.  And deep down, they get that.

But “Get” me?

I have to admit that the “joke” stung some.  Sort of like a pebble in one’s shoe as one tries to walk a great distance.  Am I a “pebble” in their shoes?  A stone?  A boulder?

Makes me look closely at what I say and do.  Makes me look closely at my intentions, my actions, my reactions, my purposes. 

“Get” me?

Makes me look at my relationship with each of them . . . with others . . . with Kim . . . with myself.  I know I’m not, nor will I ever be, perfect.  A long, long way from that.  So very far from that.  I have a better shot at winning a marathon or becoming the next Pope. 

“Get” me?

Makes me reflect on my life as a parent . . . a husband . . . a teacher . . . a coach . . . a counselor

 . . . a principal.  Not perfect by any stretch of any imagination.  A long, long way from perfect.

But . . .

I know I can . . . and will . . . do better.  Each day, I can . . . and will . . . make the effort for them, for others, for myself to improve upon what I did the day before.  Will I fall short?  Sure.  Will I come close at thinking, at doing a bit better each day?  Sure.  I’d rather not be someone . . . or something . . . to be “gotten.”  Rather, I’d like to be “wanted.”  Because whatever is written as my Epitaph, I’d like it said that “While He Wasn’t Perfect, He Cared and He Loved, and We Cared and Loved Him.”  I want that to be my Epitaph.  That’s how I’d like to be remembered.  I want a life like that.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Mornings (edited and reposted)

Morning is my favorite time of day.  I like the peace, the solitude, the quiet.  There is no noise except a car passing on the street, the furnace turning on or off. 

I observe the Indigo of night give way to the gray of morning and then later, to the pale pastel of blue and pink.  My wife is typically out running her six miles or swimming her forty-five minutes.  My daughter is still sleeping.

Most times, I lie in bed and think, meditate.  I might read.  I might think about the book I’m writing, the characters within and what they’ll be doing the next time I turn on my computer.  Sometimes I step over to one of the windows in our bedroom and look out at the woods behind our house.  If I’m lucky, I see a deer grazing on the tall grass.  At other times, I see the rabbit that made our yard a home. 

On some mornings, snowflakes float in the air and land peacefully and softly on our deck and lawn.  Not necessarily heavy or thick or wet, but light and fluffy.  Or there is a gentle rain providing nourishment to life around us . . . to us.  Sometimes the snow or rain stops as suddenly as it starts, gray clouds giving away to blue sky and sunshine.

Aren’t mornings an opportunity for a fresh start and a new beginning?  Aren’t mornings the opportunity for the ultimate do-over?

You get to look back on what you did yesterday and improve upon it.  You get to undo the things you did, the things you said.  You get to fix the things you didn’t do or say but should have, and correct them. 

A new day brings about a new beginning, a new hope.  You’re not locked into yesterdays, or where you’ve been before, or the things you said or did the previous day.  A morning gives us a chance to course-correct, to get back on the right path.  And the really wonderful thing about mornings is that they keep coming.  There seems to be an endless supply of mornings, years of them actually.

Perhaps we need to take advantage of this gift: to change, to course-correct, to do over, and make anew.  To rectify.  It’s your choice, really.  A choice you get to make each and every morning.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Afraid Of The Dark

Ever find yourself suddenly awake, but not too much so, and you can’t remember where you are?  On a trip somewhere and at a relative’s house or a hotel when you wake up and a brief feeling of panic sets in until you orient yourself as to where you are?

Ever Afraid Of The Dark?

Tuck your head under the covers to get away, to hide from some unknown monster, real or imagined, lurking over you, hot breath on your neck, your cheek?  Perhaps keeping the door open just a bit to keep you aware and connected to others in other parts of the house?  Perhaps a nightlight, safe and friendly, to reassure you that all is well, to help you find your way should you wake up in the dark?

Todd was a student of mine many, many years ago.  Tough life.  A life he never spoke to others about.  Well, at least not too many others.  A ninth grader.  Oldest of three, with a younger brother and an even younger sister.  Lived in an apartment with his parents.  Didn’t have much, but didn’t complain.  Never heard him complain.  Never.

Todd always kept his door open with a nightlight on in the hallway.  Always.  All of the time he was in high school.

Todd wasn’t Afraid Of The Dark.  At least, not for himself.  Mostly, he was afraid for his younger brother and sister.  Afraid for them.

Most nights, especially on weekends, Todd’s father would come home drunk, usually late at night, and find some reason to beat up his wife, Todd’s mother.  She would distract him, while Todd would scramble to his brother’s and sister’s rooms, gather them up, and together, they would hide under one of the beds.  Todd would hold them, whisper to them, protect them. The youngest might fall asleep.  Perhaps the younger brother.  But not Todd.  Not until all was safe.  Not until Todd was sure his brother and sister were safe.  Because after his father tired of his mother, he would seek out Todd or Todd’s brother or sister.

Afraid Of The Dark.

Who knows what might linger in the dark for us . . . for others.  Who knows what monster might be out there waiting, lurking with hot breath on our neck, our cheek.  Who knows how many sleepless nights there are for those around us.  Worries of bills piling up and not enough money to pay them off.  Worries about a college-aged son or daughter and what choices . . . what chances . . . they might make, might have.  Worries about the health of a loved one . . . a husband, a wife, a son, a daughter, a parent.  Worried about their own health . . . impending death . . . and how that might impact their own loved ones.

Afraid Of The Dark.

Many reasons why there might be a nightlight in the room, in the hallway.  Many reasons why one pulls the covers over one’s head.  To hide.  To protect.  And, there are many whose lives are not as ordered, not as safe, not as protected as ours might be.  Eating lunch next to us.  Answering the phone as you call to complain.  Sitting at the desk next to you.  In the room down the hall.  Sitting at the desk in front of you.  Walking down the hallway alone, with shoulders hunched, silently waging a battle you might not ever know about, might not ever understand.  But very much Afraid Of The Dark.  Very much so.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Storms (reposted)

I love thunderstorms.  As a kid, I’d sit on our front porch and watch the clouds open up and the rain pound the ground.  I was fascinated (still am) by the drill and flash of lightning and the force of the wind.  The sheer power of a storm was something to marvel at.  There was a particular smell that to this day, I associate with a good old fashion thunderstorm.  It is like no other smell that I can compare it to.  As I recall, my mom was not too enamored with me outside during a thunderstorm, especially when lightning was present and in retrospect, she was probably right.  I know that now as a parent, I make sure my kids are inside and safe.

I remember driving on an interstate in Wisconsin during one summer when the rain and storm was so intense, I had no visibility- none whatsoever.  I couldn’t see.  I didn’t know what, if anything, was in front of me.  I didn’t know what, if anything, was behind me.  I didn’t know where the side of the road was for me to pull off in order to stop and let the storm pass.  I was stuck.  There were three small children in the backseat, my wife in the front seat next to me, and I was behind the wheel.  I didn’t know where to turn, if I should turn and I knew that if I made one misstep, my wife and kids could be harmed.  I crept forward ever so slowly until I came to an overpass that provided brief shelter.  It was crowded because many other drivers and a few drenched motorcyclists wanted the same protection.  Somehow, we made room for one another.

Storms happen.  Sometimes they come out of nowhere.  Sometimes they are of our own creation.  Sometimes we find ourselves in the middle of a storm created by someone else.  At times, we see no apparent way out, blinded by the swirl of chaos around us.  We can’t find a way forward.  We can’t see a way out.  Other times, there is that brief respite that gives a modicum of shelter and protection until it is safe to move forward once again.  And always, there will be a time when it is safe to move forward.  Always.  It may take time.  There is panic and fear.  There is concern for yourself and for others, perhaps loved ones.  But always, there will be a time when it is safe to move forward.  Always.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Exist Or Live?

Part of Kim’s and my honeymoon was spent in a hospital.  True story.

We were camping with some of my family members way up in Northern Wisconsin and Kim had to have an emergency appendectomy.  In the middle of the night, I ran to get two of my sisters, both nurses, and we drove 30 miles or so to a small town and the nearest hospital.  A 40 bed hospital . . . yes, 40 beds.  It was that tiny.  Kim was the youngest by light years!  Frankly, it seemed to be more of a holding tank for the very elderly.  More like a cross between a nursing home and hospital.  Except for Kim.

Down the hall was a very ancient lady who spent the days in bed in a prone position staring at the ceiling.  Someone, not sure who, came in everyday and read her Bible passages.  She never left her bed and to be honest, when I would peek in her room from time to time, it didn’t seem she had moved.  Another lady right across the hall was informed by her sons and daughters that she was leaving the hospital to go to a nursing home.  She cried and protested, but the family thought it was best.  It was all very sad.

I bring this story up because of a conversation I had with my niece, Jodi, when we gathered together to celebrate the birthday of my 99 year old mother this past week. 

Jodi told the story about her 80 year old aunt, Frannie.  She plays golf.  She rides a bike long distances.  She gets together frequently with friends.  Goes shopping.  Plays cards.  Frannie is also nearly paralyzed on the right side of her body from a stroke.  She also has seepage in her brain stem that cannot be repaired due to where it is located.  Frannie describes herself as a “ticking time bomb”.  She could die any minute, any day, any night.

But . . . Frannie made a decision to Live rather than merely Exist.

To Exist Or Live.

Today is the last day of the year, New Year’s Day. 

Many of us will choose to make resolutions and promises and decisions.  Most of those might last a day or so, maybe a week or two.  Some perhaps longer.  A few might make it through the year.  A few. Very few.

To Exist Or Live.

It seems to me that a worthwhile resolution or decision might be to make a deliberate, conscious choice to Live rather than to merely Exist. 

I think we’ve seen both.  I think we’ve crossed paths with those who Exist rather than Live.

Those who Exist are tired.  They go through the motion.  They lack passion.  They lack vitality.  They move from day to day, week to week, through life, through love, in a rut, in a routine. If I were to give them a color, I’d choose gray.

And then . . .

There are those who Live.  They grab at life.  They push themselves.  They laugh more.  Cry more.  Feel more.  There is energy.  Their minds are active.  There is clarity in their eyes, their speech.  They listen.  I would color them anything bright, but not gray.

It seems to me that a worthwhile resolution for each of us . . . for both you and I . . . would be to make the choice to Live rather than to Exist.  To Live fully, completely.  Embracing all that life has to give, to offer.  To make the most of it for ourselves, and to help those around us to make the most of it for themselves.  Helping each other to Live rather than Exist.  Is there really a choice?  Really?  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

 

After The Party

Just a few cookies remain. A bit of ham.  Presents mostly tucked away.  Gift cards and gift cash spent or planned for.  Next step is to take down the decorations and take the tree to the curb.

Of course, this is after we drive the almost 1,000 miles home. 

Tired.  Worn out.  Bushed. 

Funny how that cycle of emotion ebbs and flows.  From the Anticipation I wrote about just last Tuesday, to now, the feeling of Tiredness.  Up, then Down.

The kids spent the night with childhood friends.  Friends they hadn’t seen in ages.  The house was too quiet last night.  Quite the departure from the hustle and bustle of just a day or so ago when there were more cousins and aunts and uncles around that filled the little house with noise, and laughter, and joy, and stories that brought even more laughter.

After The Party.  Time to recharge.

But . . .

We can’t lose, mustn’t lose the feeling of joy we brought to others.  The joy that was in their eyes, in their voices.  We can’t lose the joy we brought not only to others, but to ourselves because of our giving, because of trying to create and carve out joy for others in sometimes an uncaring world that sometimes brings careless words and careless actions into our lives. 

A time for rest.  A time to recharge. 

But then, to begin anew to create joy, to bring joy to others, and thereby creating joy, bringing joy to ourselves.  To our world and to those who depend upon us for this very thing.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

'Twas The Night Before . . .

Aren’t you just a little excited?  A little?  Maybe a lot?  Have to admit, I am.

A little bit of shopping and wrapping to do, but that’s okay.  Last minute stuff.  To be expected. 

Today, we drive Emily to visit a childhood friend.  Been friends forever, it seems and the only time they get together is this time of year when we travel back home.  (Funny that after five or six years, I still call Wisconsin home.)  Hannah visits her old friends later in the week and again, the only time she really gets to spend time with them. 

Tomorrow, family drifts in so we’re all together again.  Only time that happens, except for weddings and funerals, right?  Then, we head to church- one of my favorite services.  Look forward to it each year.

In the next few days, I’ll drive my family to my brother’s house for a visit.  We’ll stop in and see my mom and spend time for her.  She turns 99.  Pretty cool to be that old.  Saw a lot.  Saw much.  Lived it too.  And we’ll see more family and visit and talk and reminisce and catch up.  Lots of stories.  Retold many times, over and over.  Doesn’t get old, at least for me.

Anticipation.

As kids, we looked forward to the presents.  What did we get?  Who got what?  Whose stack is biggest?

As an adult, I like the presents, but I like to watch everyone open their presents up.  Mostly, I like the visits, the laughter, the stories.  And of course, the food.  Lots of it.  Way more than I need.

Anticipation.

A really good word.  A nice word.  One of expectation, of expecting.  A word of mystery, of surprise, of suspense. 

What’s around the corner?  What’s in store?  What’s down the road, around the bend?  What’s in the future?  What are the plans? 

Anticipation.

May your surprises, your mysteries be good to you.  May they be joyous.  May they bring you laughter.  May they bring a tear or two so you can appreciate the good we have, we see, we share.  May your surprises bring you hope and of course, love.  May you recognize the small, as well as the big.

May each of you find all you need and so much more.  May there always be love in your heart, a sparkle in your eyes, a kind word on your tongue, warmth in your heart.  May there always be someone to stand with you, beside you.  May there always be someone to lend a hand when it gets hard, a word of encouragement when you feel like giving up, light when you might not know your way.  And may each of us be all of that to others.  Each of us.  Something to think about . . .  today, each day, always.

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!