#friends

I want to share life with friends. We were created for community. I want to share this one and only life I've been given. I want to know that the people for whom I care for the most know everything about me and they love me anyways. Seriously, think about the amount of people in your life that are true to that statement. I only have a small handful. I like to call them my "3-am-don't-ask-questions-just-meet-me-with-a-shovel-friends." I stole that from my friend and former philosophy professor Jason. He posed the question in class one time during a discussion about friendship: How many friends do you have that if you called them at three in the morning and said, 'don't ask questions just come meet meet me and bring a shovel' would show up with a shovel in hand? His question was to stimulate us to think not only of those we call true friends, but also those who might call us a true friend. I have a list on both accounts.

Add in a dash of pregnancy. My desire to share life shifts pretty drastically. Here is why: my friends are now examples to my child. Game changer. I think about this a lot now. I want to have people in my life that I get to share life with, but it's not just me showing up with a shovel any more. It's me, my bride, and my baby. That's a lot of trust. Not every friendship I have can handle that, which is why I keep going back to the idea of sharing-life.

My recipe for friendship (sharing-life):

1. Vulnerable without consequence. Too often vulnerability is lost because of the fear of consequence. Vulnerability needs neutrality to work. I cannot be vulnerable if you have a stance on my experience. It is so comfortable to have the freedom to be real with true friends.

2. Love. Yes brotherly love, but also agape, sacrificial love. Like the way Jesus loves. True share-life love feels more like father than friend. Think about it... if I love you with sharing-life love then I am vested in you. I don't love you because of who you are; I love you in spite of who you are.

3. Open ears and closed mouths. Everyone is always waiting for their turn to talk. I get it. But if the friendship is dominated by the need for attention, only one person is truly sharing life. Which isn't sharing...

4. Laughter. Lots of it. All the time. The people I want to do life with must be able to laugh. 

I feel like this is a pretty simple formula. Simple but not easy. I'm always accepting applications. ;)

Dear Sweet Child of Mine,

You don't have to be friends with everyone. But you do have to be friendly. I know I have examples of friends that share life with us. You will more than likely have goofy nick names for all of them. I want these friendships to be an example for you--that you will see how important it is to find and keep good friends. If you have the qualities I mentioned above, you will never be short of a good friends; but the best friends, the ones that share life with you, they need to have these qualities too. Or else daddy will get 'em! ;)

Love,

Your Best Friend (don't tell Mom)

#kindness

In my line of business I know a few things: I may never be the smartest person in the room, I may never be the most handsome person in the room (worth a good argument though), and I may never be highest producing person in the room. BUT I know I can always be the kindest person in the room. And that is my goal in life. I want to be known as the kindest person. If you flip to the back of my notebook I take with me on all appointments, you will find my daily affirmation page. In that list you will see: "I am the example of being kind." I choose kindness.

Kindness was never a big word on my list of things that I wanted my child to be taught. I always just figured it would be absorbed. As you may or may not figure out, I am an optimist to a fault. I believe in the good in everyone. I believe everyone is out for the general benefit of others. And I believe that chances should be handed out in the double digits. Therefore, of course, I figured that kindness would be on of those things that a child will automatically pick up and learn. And I could spend time on the other things that really matter.

Cue one of my favorite mentors in the world. Her name is Laura. If my child turns out like Laura, then they will be pretty amazing. And the good news is that there is a way to be like Laura: emulate her qualities. One of her best qualities is her kindness. A wonderful and inspiring story she shares from her childhood is of her mother. Most mothers love to shout reminders / warnings as their children leave the house. "Be safe!" "Be careful!" "Behave!" But as Laura and her brothers would be leaving the house to go to school or even to go down the block to play, their mother would always remind them, "Be kind!" Laura was reminded daily how important it was to be kind in this world. I want my child to hear "be kind" every single day. 

I learned from Laura's story how important it was to be kind. I look up to Laura more than she realizes. She is the reason that as an adult--my goal in life is to be the kindest.

I want to speak kindness into my child's life. I want to be on purpose about sharing the word kind just as much as I act kind. I want to lead by example being kind to my family, being kind to my friends, and most importantly (and most challenging), even being kind to those who are hard to love. They need it the most. The hurting, the lonely, the cynical. An act or a word of kindness can truly bring healing and life.

Dear Sweet Child of Mine,

I want you to be kind. Kindness calms things. It opens up smiles. It erases fear. I want you to be kind, and I also want you to see kind. I want you to see kindness in me and your mother. The way we talk to each other, the way we interact with each other, and the way we simply look at each other. Hear kindness today while you are tight in your mother's womb. Let that be the word that echoes through her body today. I cannot wait to meet you!

Love,

Arguably the Best Smelling Dad in the World

#itisgood

God was really excited when he started speaking things into being. He spoke the lights into the heavens. First of all, stop…and just try to wrap your mind around that--I do all the time. God speaks and things come into being. I bet it was like a breeze, the sweet cool kind right at the start of Autumn, you know the one--it cools to a crispness that makes apple tree blooms, kids laugh, beer glasses toast, lovers snuggle...it makes love feel magical: and from that magic--sparks fly. Those sparks dance, possibly sing (or at least chime). They laugh back to the giggles of excitement from the creator. And in a flash that would rival any lightening storm--they burst forth and set themselves into the canvas of eternity: never taking for granted that they are indeed an expression of the creator. At least that is how I picture it.

He went on to set life into motion and with each stroke of creativity he said--this is good. His exclamation at the end of each created piece to the puzzle of our world: it is good.

But like a stop sign on the Autobahn to your leaded right foot everything changes. God says: it is not good...FOR MAN TO BE ALONE.

That is when he gave me your mother.

Dear Sweet Child of Mine,

I want you to know your mother the way I know her. She is the grace that flows in your veins. In your life you will feel the need to love someone who is seemingly unlovable--that is your mother speaking. One day I want you to ask her where her grace comes from. She has a beautiful story to share with you. 

She is hilarious. However, you will only see this at home played out in a lot of goofy dances, made up words and phrases, nick names, and well placed (sometimes hidden even :) ) puns. Don't even try to get her to perform in public. She won't do it. You might be able to get her to flex her arm muscle, though under immense peer pressure, otherwise, peer pressure doesn't work on her.

She makes your father feel like a man. Learn this. Whether you are a boy or a girl this will be a great example for you. It is a rarity. The way you will see it is in her pride for you. She will  always be proud of you. I know this because she is proud of me. And you are part of me, part of her, and all of us.

She tells me when I am wrong with my well being in mind. She does't tell me I am wrong to make sure I understand my wrongness. She tells me I am wrong because she wants me to be better. She has the best in mind for me. 

Your mother is beautiful. (Don't listen to her when she blames you for what you have done for her body though--that's the hormones talking.) She is a beautiful soul. You can just look at her and know that. My dad, your grandpa, used to joke with her saying she is in a program to date ugly people and that is how I ended up with her. But there is a lot to be said there--seriously look at your mom and then look at me. You will be trying to figure this out for a long time. Your first words might actually be "how" instead of dad or mom. There are times when she literally takes my breath away. One day lets look through our wedding album and the photos Caroline took of your mother and I--on that day she was glowing she was so beautiful. 

She has self-control. Please get this. For real. Please. Your father has none. Or maybe a little but just barely. I desperately want you to learn self-control. It will equate to success in your life. Happiness in your marriage. Freedom in your giving. Peace when you lay your head down to rest. Bind in to you like a third arm. (Not sure why that was the first thing that came to my head, but it works.)

She worships God. But even more amazingly--she helps others get there. That gift is storing up treasure for her in heave: the likes we will never fully understand until we are there. I hope you get this talent. 

You mother is all of the best words in the english dictionary personified into one simple being. She is so proud of you. She prays for you every single day. She is cherishing these moments where she gets to nourish you physically. 

Your mother is my hero, and I bet she will be yours too. (And I'm also pretty okay.)

Love,

Arguably the Luckiest Dad in the World

#makememories

When I was 8ish, mom and dad were divorced. This was tough. I think the toughest part was the family meeting about a year earlier when they told us they had decided to separate. I did not understand what was going on. But from tragedy we often learn the most important lessons in life. We still had a lot of childhood left to live and there were also good times to be shared. It's funny the little things that we remember the most from childhood - the memories that become treasures as we grow up. Here are some of my best memories with my parents.

My dad would pick up his boys: Jesse, Randy, and Travis. We would first hit up the dollar store. When you're small, a dollar feels bigger than what it really is, so essentially we would go on a spending spree! Ninja Tortugas, Transformerings, cap guns, plastic-ish swords, wiffle-ball, and CANDY (your run of the mill knock-offs where the name is a description of the candy like sugar dots or chocolate-covered-cookie-and-caramel-bar-of-candy). We were kings I tell you: KINGS! And then off to the dollar movie. Not sure if there are any more dollar movie theaters. These theaters pretty much showed the movies that were recently released to video. Then it was off to Independence Park. We played catch, tag, monkey bars, slide (which should have been called, "melt your skin." Who's idea was it to make slides out of metal anyways?), tree climbing... all the best to-do's with a dad. Those were great memories that now stick to me like a shadow. (Did I mention that my dad owned a big foot truck?) 

And then there is mom. She taught me about working hard. She would work at night at K-Mart to support her three darling boys. While we were nestled in our beds under the care of grandma, she was working the blue-light specials. One of my favorite memories was how she tried to protect us from being made fun of because we weren't as well off as some of the other kids at school. We were on free/reduced lunches. In my day, that meant carrying around a punch card that had to be presented in line after they handed them out in front of the whole class. She understood that kids were mean and we might be mocked for it. She asked me one day how it made me feel and if I wanted her to stop signing us up for free lunches. I did. And so she worked a bit harder to spend $3.75 a day so that her boys would FEEL better. That to me is sacrifice like Jesus would have made or at least pointed out in a crowded room. (Oh, we also had a lot of fun together! She would load us up and head out for Tara Beach! Basically a pond with a water slide, but to three little boys it was the ocean to our pirate adventures!)

Dear Sweet Child of Mine,

Make memories, and also simply remember. I will tell you stories of my childhood long after it is gone and those that helped make the memories are passed. You will know them verbatim. And one day you will realize the importance of those memories. Together, we will create your memories. I hope your life is adventurous and full of abundant life. I want your life to be a story book entitled: "Not enough ink, paper, or words." I love you.

Love,

Arguably the Most Handsome Dad in the World

#words pt2

This is "words: part two." There is always a part two. 

I have a mentor by the name of Matt. (We'll call him Matt #1 later.) Matt knows everything about me and I him. Which is probably why this next statement is true: Matt has always spoken to me with words that build into my soul and character.

I have another Matt in my life that craves brotherhood with me. (We'll call him Matt #2.) When I talk with Matt, I think harder, laugh louder, nerd out, soul search, agree yet disagree, and experience life. Matt chooses (way more often than me) to speak words that are purposeful. He understands the rarity of brotherhood between friends and protects it.

There is another person in my life by the name of Mark. (I am sensing some alliteration in my deep friendships.) Mark speaks "okay" into my life. Do you have an "okay" guy? He or she is kind of like the hype man in a rap group. (That's a bit of a stretch but felt like a cool analogy to toss in there.) Mark has listened to all of my pains and pasts of my life story - he has even walked with me through one - and he always makes my mess feel okay. Never has he judged me. He simply says, "It's okay, but let's pick up these pieces. A masterpiece still exists here." 

The common bond (besides the letter M): words are powerful. In my last post I talked about how words rip and tear, but I wanted to follow up with this: a timely word builds life into God's creation. Take a moment to soak that phrase in. The creation story is literally brought to life with words. God spoke and life happened. C.S. Lewis is the master at putting this into visual words via The Chronicles of Narnia. One of my favorite scenes is when Aslan is walking and singing things into existence.

I know there is a verse tucked away in that good ol' book, the Bible, that says we are created in God's image. I am going to take a small liberty here... if I am made, if we are made, in God's image then we also have life to give in the words that we speak. I hope this makes sense because it totally does to me. 

I am who I am because words of life were spoken into me by people. That matters. It matters that Matt #1 told me as a 15 year old that I didn't have to be the next [fill in the blank with a really cool person you want to be in life], that I would be the first Randy Olive. Essentially he told a 15 year old on the verge of depression, "Keep being you because that is what the world needs."

It matters that Matt #2 tells me how much he cherishes our friendship. He speaks out loud his desires and expectations for his own life and opens up the conversations that sharpen iron. It matters that we are each others sounding board / litmus test. 

It matters that Mark can look me in the eye and tell me that he is proud of me. That one there is like a well and I drink from it often. This was a phoenix statement for me... from ashes: life. 

And then there is Ellen (I've saved the best for last). My wife. My saving grace. She has never, even in the worst of times, spoken an ill word to me or about me. (Can I just say to everyone: no one should ever hear you speak ill of your spouse.) She tells me often that she is my biggest fan. Her words are truly God's mouthpiece. When she says she chooses me, it is like a renaissance in my being. I feel power, creativity, love, excitement, ability, strength, kindness, hope... Please grasp the power of that: with one simple word my wife wakes me to feel like I am on top of the world. And that is what I get to be tethered to!

Dear Sweet Child of Mine, 

My goal for you is that you hear and see the power that words have. My prayer is that from that you become a Matt #1 to a 15 year old boy: someone in this world will need you to tell them that they are needed. I want you to be a Matt #2 to your friends: speaking words that build into life. I want you to be a Mark: never showing judgment, being a safe place for people to heal. And I want you to be just like your mom: always using your words to make those you love wake to feel like they are on top of the world!

Love,

Arguably the Most Fun Dad in the World

#words pt1

The power of words. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me" ... LIES. 

The worst injury I ever had was after I decided to try sleeping and driving at the same time. Let this be one of those "learn from mentors and not from mistakes" moments for you. IT DOESN'T WORK. Apparently vision and cognition are necessary to manipulate a curve while moving at a rate of 45-55 miles per hour in a sweet-mule Buick Regal. Just a few tiny bumps and bruises; Oh yeah and a flappy ear, as in cut off and clinging on for survival (don't worry; ear reattached), and two broken ribs with one of them ever so slightly stabbing into my LUNG. So there I am kicking it in the hospital with my newly reconstructed ear, a radiator hose stuck in my chest to drain lung juice, and two broken ribs reminding me with every slight motion, "Remember that time you tried to drive while sleeping? That was dumb." Raise your hand if you have ever broken ribs. Perfect. Good then you get it. I would rather [fill in the blank] than go through that again. It is truly excruciating. (And obviously there is a limit to the "fill in the blank." I would probably rather break my ribs again than let's say show up to church in nothing but my underwear...but just probably.)

Sticks and stones broke my bones. And just to be clear about this being the worst injury of my life thus far: I was life-flighted from the scene of the accident and spent a week in ICU.The memory is very real, but the pain is gone. I am not groaning every day from my injury 15 years ago. As a matter of fact, I was back at my daily routine after just a few days in ICU and about 9 weeks of "taking it easy." 

"But names will never hurt me": it's just not true. I have a lot of names piled up that hurt me for a long time. I stored the words of the people I looked up to, the people that I loved, and even pure strangers. I remember being mocked for my terrible acne. (It was actually pretty bad. Like meat lovers pizza bad.) I still stress to this day as an adult when my face breaks out because I am worried what people will think about me. I had insecurities built up like a wall because of all the broken promises of family and love. Words built that wall brick by brick. It was easy for me to get close to people because I had a huge family; shy couldn't exist when there are 16 mixed and mingled brothers and sisters. However, there was always a tipping point for me, and I Houdini-ed every single relationship that got too real. I had to. Self preservation and survival was the name of the game. I have been to many a counseling session to fix that one. And then there are the standards set for me with the words of the higher-than-thous. These people painted the word "failure" over and over on the canvas of my internal being when they preached perfection instead of grace. I started going to church when I was in the eighth grade. It was awesome, but to that little 14 year old boy, he saw the white wash--not the mess beneath--and struggled with his own rubbish heap. I am thankful for those that made relationship with God real for me when they taught me new words like mercy, grace, love, and joy.

The pain of words hurt more. Way more. They last longer and they follow us into every crack and crevice of life. Stitches, band-aids, casts, surgery, etc. can fix the fury of sticks and stones. On the other hand, healing the brokenness of words is much more difficult. There is a verse in the Bible that speaks of confessing sins one to another and the healing therein. I also believe when we start confessing the hurt of words to one another we can start finding healing therein. People suck. We use our words so often to tear people down rather than to build them up. Hidden in every hurtful word (purposely placed or "accidentally" overflowed) is an unfulfilled desire, promise, or expectation. We have the ability to reverse and retrain the hurt of words by simply choosing the right words to say. Start saying the right words to each other--every day--it matters.


Dear Sweet Child of Mine,

May my promises be few and timely. May my words always bring you joy. I will always do my best to protect you from the hurtful words of others. And I will make sure the defining moments of your life are absorbed in grace, mercy, peace and love.

Love,
Arguably The Best Dad In The World