#imscaredof

Things I’m scared of:

Thunderstorms.

The dark.

Heights.

Thunderstorms scare me, and I pray like crazy during them. I think it has to do with a time when I was around 7 or 8. There was a tornado warning, or maybe it was a tornado watch. (Time out. Is anyone else annoyed by the use of these two categories to let the human populations know about the eminent danger of a tornado? Tornado watch--should I be able to see a tornado at this point? Is there an actual tornado on the ground? Or is it more like a sailor on the crow’s nest watching for what could be? Maybe there is a tornado and maybe not? Tornado warning--is it warning us that a tornado is on the way? Or warning us that a tornado could happen? It’s like a caution sign that you could possibly slip. “Just watch out: there could be a vortex of wind that will sweep you and your loved ones up into a whirlwind of debris--just watch out.” Is it me, or are the defining factors of these two categories seemingly interchangeable? I honestly have to Google which means which every time I hear it on the television.) Anyway, back to my story. The long and the short of it—tornado is coming, get in the basement, cry, pee your pants (literally), exit basement. Naturally, I now need a thunder buddy for thunderstorms. (Thanks Ollie!)

The dark scares me because I watched this ridiculous movie when I was like 6 that scared the bajeezes out of me. Well put that bad juju into the mind of a super creative kid. Guess what? Every imaginable monster and rapscallion was hidden, hiding, and plotting on me. And where is the perception of reality when you are 6? It’s all in your head. So to this 6 year old, that movie created a breeding ground for my imaginative thoughts turning those thoughts in my head into reality which in turn scared the sh** out of me. To this day I am scared of the dark. Although if I have a friend to fight the darkness with, I am okay. Don't tell, but when I have to stay home by myself (like if Ellen’s out of town) I will leave a couple lights on...

Heights scare me in a strange way, and I do not know where the fear comes from. But it is legit. And Ellen would not like me to share the crazy of this fear. Just know that I can watch a movie with a scene portraying heights and my insides flip around and tense up.

So there is my confession. I am an adult male (a husky, manly, adult male), and yet I still am afraid of the same things that irrationally scared me when I was a child. To that end, fear worries me in two ways:

1. My point above foreshadows that Adam will be afraid of things, they will cling to him, and there is nothing I can do about it. I can be near, but I will not fully be able to dissolve his fear. 

2. Something is going to play with his mind and burn fears into his brain that I cannot control.

But I do pray that he does something similar to what I did. Whenever I was afraid of the dark I would sing The Bare Necessities to myself (from the Jungle Book) over and over. I found comfort in that song for some reason. Maybe it distracted my overly active brain, or maybe it was much deeper than that. Baloo is taking little man-cub Mowgli under his wing and letting him in on a little secret of life. Comforting the boy that life will provide and Baloo is by his side. I want to be Adam's Baloo. I will be Adam's Baloo!

Dear Adam,

Life will provide a lot to be afraid of. Look up from that fear and realize a few things. One: you see mom and dad. We are here to protect you as best as we can. Two: look past us into our timeline and realize that we were / are just like you--and we have our very own fears. We’ve just built strength to capture those fears. Trust that you will too. Three: look way past us and into eternity. The greatest source of our strength is God. He is all, in all, with all--his love drives out fear. That is what I trust most of all.

Love,

Arguably the Bravest Dad Around

#christmas

I love Christmas. I am the guy that everyone complains about bringing Christmas celebration to the forefront too early. I start listening to Christmas music in October. I would decorate for Christmas before Halloween if possible. (And by possible I mean if Ellen would let me.)

But why do I love Christmas so much? Let me count the ways… Allow me to fill you in on a childlike explosion of joy for me at Christmas time.

First is the feel of family. Growing up, my family life was a bit chaotic. Mom and Dad divorced when I was in the third grade. But no matter what--during Christmas time there were no challenges. We spent the night at one house on Christmas Eve and would wake up and do a Christmas morning exchange to the other. It was pleasant and exciting and peaceful. Mom and Dad both celebrated only one thing on Christmas day--their boys. They made us feel like the world began and ended with their stair step of three children: Jesse, Randy, and Travis. How could you not want to rush the Christmas season into existence each year when your sweetest memories of family are founded in red, green, spruce, and tinsel?

And talk all you want about the commercialization of Christmas. Talk about missing the reason for the season. Talk about your philosophical/spiritual principles. But for me, I saw sacrifice on Christmas morning through the gifts selflessly given to us. We were not rich by a long shot, but somehow Mom and Dad made three little boys feel like they could own the world. They sacrificed to lavish wonderful gifts upon us--gifts we didn't dare ask for because we knew that it was a stretch for our family. We were content with blocks and off brand games, but on Christmas day, opening the brand new Nintendo Entertainment System meant so much more than entertainment. It was personification of sacrifice and love. Any nay-sayers: your point is moot--it falls on the deaf ears of Randy Olive viewing his Mom and Dad as heroes.

The Christmas Season celebrates life. Now let's track into the spiritual. Christmas for me means life. It is a celebration (however historically inaccurate the date may or may not be) of the birth of Jesus Christ. Highlighting that a little earlier than the rest of those surrounding me will always be okay. Always. I love music like O Holy Night (especially Olive & Willis style), Mary Did You Know, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, etc... singing about and to the child of God. A child who knew from a very young age the sacrifice he would make for mankind. The teenager that wanted to live to please his Father. The man who showed love to widows, children, whores, lost, damned, and broken. Why not celebrate his figurative birthday a bit longer than just a few days. (I mean seriously--we celebrate our own birthdays more lavishly than how we celebrate Jesus coming as Emmanuel – God WITH us!)

I love people. To a fault if you ask Ellen. People energize me. You want to find me relaxing? Let me throw a party. Ellen laughs at me because I am truly energized by people. When most want to come home and crash, I would much rather come home and get ready for ten people to invade the privacy of my home while we share food, beer, wine, laughter, dessert, stories, and love. No other time of the year do more people get out of their homes than during the Christmas season. They get into the busy bustle of shopping and figure skating and seeing Christmas programs. It forces people to respond (even if by force) in a social manner to complete strangers. Sure it gets out of hand at times (i.e. wrestling for the TV special pricing on Black Friday) but force your eyes away from that and onto the outdoor ice skating rink: watch the laughter. To the Starbucks line: check out the joy. To the elbows of strangers rubbing accidentally: embrace the contact of another human. And all with the magical feeling of Christmas. Mmmmmmmmm.

And who doesn't love looking at Christmas decorations? (I know a few of you raised your E-hand, but you don't count--at least for me to make my point. :) ) I love looking at Christmas lights. Get them up early and often. The more the merrier. This is another point of nostalgia to me. (Warning for my mother reading this--see to the point I am making, not the preface to the story.) Mom would drive us to look at lights. My mother looked alive in the slow motion procedure of touring the twinkling houses. She was always so tired. Single mom, working, three boys (crazy boys), a family, personal time, volunteering, searching to not be alone… TIRED!! Which often turned to stress, which in turn turned to a bit of anger. But NOT when we cruised the light parade. Not when little bags with tea lights lined neighborhoods. Not when we chiaroscuro-ed our faces in the night with an overabundant glow of tiny lights.

And lastly: why not? Christmas is the one time of the year when people give to each other. Even if out of vanity, the practice of giving breeds joy. Even if the motives are wrong, when you practice doing what is right, good things will happen. Simple. True.

Dear Adam,


Let's make some Christmas memories that will spur you on to love Christmas the way I do. Let's make these special moments that we cry over the day I slip into eternity. Let's speak of Christmas and the redemption it has brought to this broken little boy--your father. Let's laugh and love it. Let's do everything way too early and spend the count down MONTHS celebrating like it would be our last. One day it will be. And we will be the kings of the world--holding onto a secret that everyone is welcome to. Come and join our Christmas celebration. You will smile. The Grinch's heart would actually grow four times!! I love you son. I love you more than you will ever know. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you!


Love,

Arguably Santa Clause

#love

Don't be confused; just know that love will confuse you.

The word comes out of my mouth often. I say I love you to Ellen. I also say I love Chipotle, and I love potato chips, and I love Christmas, and I love sleeping in, and I love Jesus, and I love it just in general speaking.

Surely you realize that I do not love Ellen the same as I love a bag of chips. Or love the feeling of sleeping in the same as the magical feeling of Christmas. And so I do wonder how difficult it is for a child to grasp the concept of love. I feel it would be like someone learning English to differentiate reed, read, read, red. (I need to read the red book you read yesterday about the reed.)

I wonder at what point children feel love. They learn to say the phrase I love you because of the repetition from mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, aunt and uncle, but I wonder how truly they believe that phrase; I wonder how love develops. We are born with the capacity to love, just as we are born with the capacity to do much of anything, but at what point do we realize our experience of love? I cannot remember in my life the point at which love made sense, and yet I know that it did (and does).

My point in this meandering is that love is confusing when expressed by mere words, but it’s pretty obvious when actions are involved. Are the people around you, those ones closest to you, able to differentiate what love means to you? Would a foreigner (non-English-speaking) be totally confused because they see the way you are with your wife, hear the words I love you, and then watch you woof down a pizza exclaiming I LOVE THIS PIZZA! (Because they should believe you are having a love affair with that pizza.)


DC Talk has a cheesy little song called Love is a Verb. That right there is the equation for love. Do. Simple. Not easy. Simple. Do. Because love does. (The phrase Love Does is ripped off from Bob Goff. Sorry Bob... and hopefully you don't need royalties from that because I am not sure I can pay. However, next time you are in Houston I'll chauffeur you around; we’ll barter royalties.) Love really does.

Now let's trip back to the love of a child. Think about the simplest form of love you have ever seen. I would imagine the majority of us think back to a child- unscathed by the world- doing something seemingly unimportant for someone who is in dire need. I think back to a photo that I saw in an exhibition one time. The scene looked like something of a funeral. An old man was sitting slumped over with his hands to his face in grief. A little boy, maybe 3 or 4, was standing with his forehead head touching the old man's forehead. He had one hand on the old man's shoulder as to say: everything will be okay. We are all familiar with the imagery of children acting in a selfless manner to make sure that people feel love. This is the key: love doing is a selfless act, it's pure and without ulterior motive.

I don't know when children realize their capacity to love, but they sure do understand how to give it without selfish ambition. They have the simplicity of life. They don't have a clear model of manipulation quite yet, and so love to them is in its purest form. If we can love like a child, then we are accomplishing much in this world--but even more in heaven. 

So as I reread through my thoughts and add my final touch: I believe I have a lot to learn from Adam. He will be teaching me a lot about love. (And non-coincidentally: a lot about the originator of love: God. Because God is love.)

Dear Adam,

Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have. Love doesn’t strut, doesn’t have a swelled head, doesn’t force itself on others, isn’t always “me first,” doesn’t fly off the handle, doesn’t keep score of the sins of others, doesn’t revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, Trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end. 1 Cor. 13: 4-7

I cannot wait for you to teach me what all of this means.

Love,

Arguably the Best Knock-Knock Joke Teller in the World