#kindergarten

Been thinking a lot about Adam as he grows up...these are my words, my feelings, and my desires for theses few critical moments in his life.


Adam,

I can't believe how fast you are growing. I can remember my first day of school. I wanted it more than anything. I can remember living in a duplex in Jonesboro, Georgia. My older brother, your uncle Jesse, was heading to the bus--I sat there and cried because I wanted to go to school so badly. I am excited that you share that same sense of excitement. I can see you now as the Oak Tree you are becoming. The branches of your tiny sapling are just starting to root. You will dig deep and become a strong leader of this family. You are a very handsome young man. Don't go falling in love though, ;) You're such a flirt: I just know you are going to come home today talking about some girl. 

I can tell you want to cry a little bit. That's okay. This can be scary. But don't worry--we will be here all day thinking of you. I promise, I will be waiting for you when you get off the bus. I can't wait to hear about your day.

It seemed that just yesterday you were born. That day changed your mom and I forever. I realized that day my heart was always meant to be a father--to be your father. You were carved into my being from day one.

Listen to your teacher and obey. Be kind and have self-control.

Love,
The Happiest Dad in the World

______________________________________________

These are the moments I long for. I want defining moments in Adam's life to be filled with words of blessings. I want him to believe he can conquer the world. I want him to know he has support. I want him to know that no matter what: Ellen and I are a well of strength for him. We are his safety!

#peace

“Peace... peace, I hate the word...” Who said it? Many of you who remember 9^th grade English class just spat: Tybalt. To that I will say you, my friend, are the king of cats. But it is also the thought rolling through the head of every toddler on lack-of-sleep-break-down in your local super market. Clean up on aisle FML. (Ellen will probably edit that out although I hope not because it cleverly paints the picture.)

Peace is a word I will establish on threshold of my children's doors. Peace is very important to me. It is not something that I hope for in my home--it is something that will be practiced. It has to be. I have a bit of a temper line that runs through my blood. Both Mom and Dad carried the gene. I'm not sure whose bloodline that particular code in my double helix comes from, but I am sure that I have it. Therefore: if you live in a glass house, don't throw stones. If a temper lies dormant in your being, don't poke at it--keep feeding it sedatives.

That is where the thought process of this particular blog entry came from. I rarely lose my temper now, even though I was “coded” with it. I try to make sure I empty the space where temper might reside. However, I am not as purposeful as I would like to be about replacing that empty space with the more appropriate filler: peace. If I had a spot slotted for temper and cognitively removed it, then it needs to be replaced. On purpose. With peace. 

Here is what I plan on putting into place in my home with my children to maintain peace:

1. Deep breaths.

I do not breathe right at all. I hold my breath. A lot. I could be just sitting there watching TV or in thought and Ellen will say--BREATHE. I won't even know that I am not breathing. There is a lot to be said about breathing and how breath relieves stress. I had a friend with a huge anger problem, and the habit he put in place was to take two deep breaths before he spoke when he was angry. He said that curbed his need to explode. My good yogi friends say that there is just something about breathing in your nose and out of your mouth that "softens" your being. People in the military learn how to square breathe (not sure if that is the exact term) especially in times of preparation. The breath is a tool to help them focus and control their natural responses to stress.

Again, I am not good at breathing--so this will take practice for me. But it is definitely something I want to be on purpose about in my home. 

I especially want to be peaceful for Adam in all situations because he will be way more open to share his life with me. I want to be a well of trust and support--but if my action and reaction is to hold my breath and steam up, then he won't feel safe.

2. Safe place for real conversations-- feelings have to be accounted for.

Peace is a derivative of our feelings. I want to create a safe place for conversations to be had where true feelings can be expressed. Bottled feelings explode (or implode, which is just as detrimental).

The easiest ways to allow someone the ability to speak their feelings are to simply watch your face, keep the judgments out, and keep your own emotions neutral. The best way to do this is to watch your expressions. When we create safe places for each other, we create space to grow, express, and love. Anger strangles safety and in turn will hinder us from growing, expressing, and loving. Anger essentially stifles life.

3. Time Out.

Allow time outs when needed. Create a habit of time out. Be responsive in a positive way to time out. Our ability to respond appropriately in a time of heightened stress is near impossible. Crack open heightened stress: you get the classic, I-am-right-you-are-wrong boiling-emotional-fodder. 

When the temperature rises, allow time to respite and check feelings. Then come back together and try to speak in a way that upholds each other’s dignity. 

Ellen and I have developed a culture of time out in our relationship. We pause and place the other in a higher position. Then we talk about feelings. The reality is that the time out doesn't always solve everything, but it gives us the chance to know that we are heard and our feelings are validated. If you want to feel peace in your soul, allow someone to validate your feelings. 

4. Don't walk away.

If peace is practiced in the home and the lid is about to blow--you shouldn't have to walk away, storm out, or head to the bar. You should be able to maintain composure and explore where the frustration is coming from. 

5. Lots of mentors. (I'm looking at you, Lexi at Om Grown Yoga :) )

Peaceful people breathe peace. Think about the most peaceful person you know. You probably lean towards them when you are feeling anger. I find that when I surround myself with peaceful people, my peace elevator goes to the top floor. I could spend thirty seconds at Om Grown Yoga and just melt away the layers of stress, anxiety, anger, and tension. 

Dear Adam,

I want you to always be able to express your feelings. I want you to feel safe at home. And I want it to be a place of peace for you always. Even when you are old and grown--I hope you find yourself at harmony just being with me and your mother. I love you.

Arguably the most I-CANNOT-WAIT-FOR-YOU-TO-BE-HERE Dad in the World.

#joy

In a few months, I believe my definition for this word will be changing. Adam will be a new joy in my life, and he is a shadow made by the object of my joy: Ellen. (Side note: There is something about her in this whole pregnancy journey that makes me giddy.)

Joy is a peculiar thing. In my opinion, it is a lot like humility. If you have to tell someone you are humble, it defeats its own meaning. People who experience joy do not have to actually talk about it. Joy just is.

Adam,

I want you to experience joy. And don't over complicate it; joy should be simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. I honestly do not know how to tell you to get to a place of joy in your life. I do know this one thing: it is worth the hunt. The Bible mentions joy in a little passage that talks about the culmination of the character of one that knows God. Joy is a gift from God. We all experience joy differently as if joy is the signature of God in our lives. If you can understand that, then you will always be thrilled by the joyful moments in your life. Adam, this is my take on joy… (This is a borrowed comparison.) Joy is like finding a treasure in a field. Once realizing the value of this treasure you bury it. Go sell everything you have, and buy the field so that then the treasure is also yours. Essentially, wherever it is that you experience joy--camp there--because that is where God is.

Here are some things that give me joy:

1. You.  Although you are not here yet, I think about you all the time. I think about what you are going to be. The words you will use. The friends you will have. The hobbies you’ll be great at. The brain you will have. Your creativity. Your expanse of love. The curiosity of your learning. When I think of you it feels like a smile starts curling at the corners of my mouth but then continues until I am wrapped in the warmth of a hug as delicate as the wind and as strong as the thunder. I am pretty sure that is joy. (So just imagine my joy when you are actually here hanging out with me!!)

2. When Ellen says she is proud of me. My goal in life now is to provide for you and your mother. I want you both to be fulfilled spiritually, emotionally, financially, experientially, and lots of other words that end in ly. And when she says she is proud of me--what she is saying creeps right into my soul. It translates to "I am safe." And when you are safe you are free to be yourself, express yourself, and grow.

3. When I am creating (whether that be writing, building, painting, or drawing). These moments give me joy because I feel like I am truly using the gifts that God has given me. I am creative not in and of myself, but because of the Creator. So the expression of my hands and words are like a translation of God's being. (Albeit a good-try-translation. Like when you draw a portrait of your parents when you are three--big circle, no neck, arms all wrong, head like a kite.)

4. Helping someone--especially someone that has the inability to truly help himself. When John the Baptist was in his mother’s womb, he leaped when Mary walked in carrying the child of God. When I help someone that is in need that is what it feels like. It feels good in the gut. Probably the Spirit leaping within us, because we are most like Jesus in those moments. 

My point in all of this is that I believe that joy is similar to faith and love. Difficult to explain, and when you have it--you know it. So how do I know that I am experiencing joy? My soul feels as if it has taken a breath. Like tasting oxygen for the first time. I really want you to live in joy.

Love,

Arguably the Most ADHD Dad in the World

#story

Story is important to me. I want to know that my life told a story--not just an existence. We get caught up in existence so much that we often forget that we are a key character in a story much bigger than our names and two dates on a tombstone. (That is not meant as a morbid thought, but I do hope you stopped to consider your own story.) I think of my own story all the time. I think about how boring it would be to recount days that followed monotonous patterns. No one is interested in why I chose the particular underwear I wore that day, the appointments I went on, the walk I took with my dog, the dinner I cooked, the dishes I didn't do, the time I went to bed... No one—well, maybe a stalker. (And they would tell the story much better than it was.) And then I think about how awesome it is to recount the stories where I take up the sword in my role as the hero (or court jester, or antagonist, or...) Those are the moments I want to capture and squeeze every bit of life out of. I want to make lemonade, or limoncello, or lemon spritzer, or lemon cocktails, or lemon other-delicious-things-made-with-lemon. I want life to be a story.

And I am consumed by the idea of Adam Armour Olive's story. Who will he be? What will he love? What makes him happy or sad? What adventures will he embark upon? Who are his friends? Who will he marry? Who are his children? What role will I play in his story?

I know my role will shift throughout his life. I just want to be a main character. And get ready for your mind to be blown: I will be if I choose the role. In the stories we are involved with, we are not in a casting role. We do not have to wait to be picked. We can pick ourselves. (BOOM.) How many of you reading this are waiting to be invited into a story? And the follow up question: Why? Why succumb to the tyranny of being picked? Pick yourself. You need to know you can live a better story. 

These are the stories / plots I want to play out with Adam:

Adventure-- Two men on a journey. Each armed with nothing but the dependence on the other. Watch as they take on the tallest peaks, the deepest waters, and the most ferocious beasts of wild. Randy teaches Adam what it means to be a man, and Adams shows Randy that life is better together. Their friendship deepens as they realize that letting go pulls them together. 

Comedy-- Adam and Randy were two regular guys until one day everything went right. Laugh along to this wacky adventure of figuring out life. Laugh with Adam as we watch Randy do everything wrong. And giggle uncontrollably as Adam mimics Randy's every move. "The best part is when Adam and Randy dance party (<-- verb) every night before bedtime and every morning when they wake up" says sleepy morning Ellen (she’ll join them for the evening dance). "You need a lifelong roll of corny jokes? Then pay attention to this story," raves everyone-who-knows-Randy. 

Documentary-- Follow Adam and Randy as they put their heads together to make a dent in homelessness. Homelessness has always tugged at Randy's heart, and Adam gave him a new outlook on why it was so important that he continues the fight. We are all only one paycheck away from being homeless and everyone deserves a chance. 

I want dramas to play out in a climactic scene where Adam achieves the success that everyone said was impossible. I want him to chase his dreams--whatever they might be. I want to see him invest his life into people. I want to see him fail and then be amazed at his growth. I want adventures to be a daily occurrence. I want him to look at me with a twinkle in his eye that says, "Let’s do something crazy," as we head out on a road trip.

And all of this will happen because I choose to live a better story. If you know me, then you know that no one gets to stand by and watch when I am in story mode--you have to get in on the action. I will be an example of a good story for Adam. He will be the greatest story I get to tell.

Dear Adam,

Allow me to get cliché: You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like there's nobody listening, and live like it's heaven on earth. Let's write the best story ever told. I will play my lead role until you are ready to take over. I trust you will play it much better when it is yours.

Love,

Arguably the Most Sentimental Father Ever

#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