Don’t Mind Me. I’m Breaking My Own Rules

I have no use for New Year’s resolutions. Also, I’m not a huge fan of lists.  So it only makes sense that I am going to write a list of New Year’s resolutions. If one of these seems like something you might want to try, feel free. Consider it public domain. Let me know how it works out for you.

• I hate whiners, so I resolve to stop whining about people. Instead, I will laugh at them maniacally. It probably won’t change anything, but it will mess with their heads.
• I will eat tacos every week. I mean, they are tacos. Why wouldn’t I?
• Five times a week, I am going to vigorously exercise my right to sit on the couch and watch TV.
• I’m going to hug my kids more. They probably won’t like it, but it makes me feel warm all over.
• I’m going to hug that lady at the drug store. She probably won’t like it, but it makes me feel warm all over.
• I am going to sing Christmas songs all year long. Is there ever a more appropriate time to sing that you are dreaming of a white Christmas than on an August afternoon when the temperature is 104?

• I am going to rent a bouncy castle and put it up in my back yard so I can jump on it all day. I may not let children join me.
• I am going to find the entire Wonder Woman television series starring Lynda Carter…
• …I’m sorry. Was I saying something?

• I am going to say thank you more. People need to hear it. I need to say it. It’s good for everyone. So I am going to express my gratitude to the people I see. I’ll start with Lynda Carter.
• Why yes. Yes I will have whipped cream on that frozen mocha. Thank you very much.
• I want to take a road trip with my boys every summer and visit a different Major League Baseball park each time. This seems like a good summer to start.
• I will watch the funny movies of my youth to see if they are still funny.
• I intend to karaoke like a boss and win often.
• This is the year I’m finally going to get a new pickup truck.
• I like Christmas. So instead of putting all of the decorations in tubs and hauling them back to the shed, I shall dedicate a spare bedroom as the North Pole.
• I will buy my Halloween candy early.
• I’m going to order my free inventors kit.
• I’m going to invent something first.
• I want to go to Switzerland and I have no idea why.
• Also, I want to go to Canada and slap people for exporting Nickelback and Justin Beiber.
• I want to meet some of my Twitter friends in real life.
• I want to avoid some of my Twitter friends in real life.
• Oh! I know what I want to invent! Something that gives you great abs and guns while you watch the funny movies of your youth to see if they are still funny!
• I want to play monopoly with people who don’t care about the rules but laugh well together.
• I am determined to be happy, not sad.
• I will read more. The Bible, adventure novels, biographies are waiting to be consumed.
• I will play with light sabers, guns, action figures, foot/base/basket/soccer balls with my little boy.
• I’m going to drive to the East Coast to see my daughter.
• I’m going to watch my next to last child graduate from high school and move him into his college dorm room.
• I will grill 12 months out of 12.
• Lastly, but not leastly, I intend to keep even the aroma of the suckfest called 2016 off of my shiny new year. 2017 still has that new year smell.

I’ll let you know how I’m doing with this list. I hope in 2017 that all your wildest dreams come true.

My Santa Purist

Just the other day, my daughter Danae said to me, “I wish I was as excited about anything as John is about Christmas.” Her little brother John loves Christmas more than you love your favorite color. He will, and has, wished people a Merry Christmas on the 4^th of July. We have tried to correct this error his entire life. It hasn’t been fixed ever. It likely won’t, because Christmas fits John. He is pure joy. He loves baby Jesus and shepherds. He loves lights. He loves trees. He loves decorations. He loves Santa. Boy, does he love Santa! He is a Santa purist.

He knows the real Santa from a fake. Part of that is my fault. A few years back I agreed to be Santa for a local radio station. We did remotes at several locations during the holidays. For me, the most fun remotes were at casinos. I had old ladies getting their picture on my lap. I would ask them the basic question, “Have you been a good girl this year?” If they said that they were good, I’d reply, “Oh. That’s too bad.” They would giggle, get their pictures taken, and be on their way, candy cane and commemorative picture in hand. But the most memorable remote for me was at a local bank.

I was at Central National Bank, dressed in the full Santa gear, complete with itchy beard, belt, and stomach pillow when my family walked in. They brought John over to see Santa. To his delight, he sat in my lap and we held our breath to see if he knew it was me. In my deepest  Ho Ho Ho voice, I asked him what his name was. He looked me in the eyes and his smile began to fade.

“Dad! What are you doing here?!?!” he indignantly shout-whispered.

“I’m helping Santa out by taking pictures with kids. Don’t tell anyone.”

He slowly warmed up to the idea. After about 10 minutes, he was all in.

John recognizes a real Santa when he sees one. Last year we went to Bass Pro Shop. He was unaware of the fantastic Santa and Christmas play area they have. We took a left at the Yeti coolers and passed through the entry into the winter wonderland. John saw Santa and literally ran to him and hugged his neck saying, “I love you Santa!” I must have gotten some sawdust in my eye at that moment, if you know what I mean.

He has seen many of Santa’s helpers since then. If the beard isn’t a real beard, he won’t buy into their validity, but still enjoys them. This picture of him checking out a lesser Santa cracks me up.

If there is one thing I have learned from my son, it’s that joy is not limited to your circumstances and the joy of Christmas isn’t just for the end of the year. He’ll wish people a Merry Christmas February, April, August, and December. Honestly, I’m starting to think that’s the way it should be. I hope and pray that the joy of Christmas is yours all year long!

Nobility

I love my kids. I have four of them. My two girls, Danae and Hope, are 22 months apart in age. For the longest time, I thought I would be the only man in the house. I became proficient in the fine art of Barbies and tea parties. I was certain that I would forever live in an ocean of hot pink and purple doll accessories. But five years after our last child was born, our next last child was born. A boy. His name is Josiah. It took exactly 15 seconds to know that even as babies, boys are wired differently than girls. This does not only relate to plumbing. The baby noises were different. The destruction was different. I know this is offensive to some people. If that is you, just don’t read any farther. It isn’t going to get better for you, and quite frankly, I don’t care about your offense. It’s your choice, not my problem.

As I said, I love my kids. They are a blessing to me. But that’s not good enough. I want to raise kids that are a blessing to other people as well. Each of them are just that. Each one is dramatically different than the next. Danae is a born leader with an above average measure of compassion. Hope is my quiet adventurer. I never know what to expect with her. It always surprises me. Josiah, well Josiah has a nobility about him that is a gift from God.

When Josiah was 2, he started praying for a baby brother. We spent quality time with him, assuring him that another child just wasn’t possible. But he didn’t care. He wanted a baby brother. Every time he prayed, no matter if it was in public or at home, he said, “And Jesus, I thank you for my new baby brother.” We had many occasions when we had to explain that my wife wasn’t pregnant, Josiah just wanted a baby brother.

Thanks to Josiah’s prayers, five years after our last child was born, our last last child was born. I’ve already written about John.  He’s all personality and charm. Josiah has been a protective, strong big brother. Noble. That’s the word that keeps coming to mind.

When he was small, we asked Josiah what he wanted to be when he grew up. His answer is incredibly boyish. “I want to be lots of ball players.” Baseball, basketball, football, soccer. It didn’t matter what the sport was, he wanted to play. He’s also very bright. Math and science are his forte, but he loves history as well. He’s a good listener and very analytic.

By the time Josiah was a freshman at our local public high school, his sisters were already at college. He listened to them talk about how their high school did a poor job preparing them for the academic rigors of life at a university. He processed their conversation, looked at the schools in our area and began to pray, all unbeknownst to his parents. Halfway through the first semester of his sophomore year he came to us and said that he wanted to transfer to a small private Christian school. He explained about the higher academic standards and preparation for college. We prayed and agreed. He walked into a new school the second semester of his sophomore year and acted like it was his destiny. In two years, he has lettered in cross country, basketball, football, tennis, and golf. Lots of ball players. He is his Senior Class Vice President, starred in the lead role of the school musical, leads worship with his guitar in chapel, serves in student government, and is going on a mission trip to Niger. Throughout this, he stays quiet, humble and caring. Like I said, noble.

The last basketball game of this semester was on his 18^th birthday. With 30 seconds left in the game, the student section began to sing Happy Birthday to him. As soon as the game was over, they rushed the court, picked him up and carried him off singing, For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow. As someone who had the stated goal of raising kids that are a blessing to others, I was overwhelmed with emotion. When you see people honor your children, it profoundly touches you. I shared this information with his sisters, who no longer live at home. You can see the screen grab.

We live in a time when our national leaders are lying skunks, our entertainers are vacuous narcissists, and other public figures act like the world owes them everything. It is so rare to meet someone of noble character who not only brings his best to the world, he brings the best out of those who come in contact with him. It’s rarer still to be related to that person. It is positively mind blowing to think that I had the privilege of raising him. I’m blessed. If you ever meet Josiah, you’ll be blessed, too.

It’s Okay. Say Hi.

We’ve all had that moment. We are minding our own business, when a person with disabilities comes by. In your head, you think, “I’m a compassionate person. They need to know I’m a compassionate person.” This thought is immediately followed by you saying or doing something so awkward that everyone in a two block radius suddenly gets fake texts and they all just stare at their phones and walk away.

I know how this works all too well. My son brings out that reaction in people. His first few years were more difficult than what most of us face in a lifetime. He was born with complications, diagnosed with Down Syndrome, and was very weak. As he slowly grew and developed, he aspirated food, which got lodged in his breathing tube in such a way as to require surgery to remove it. Not long after that, we discovered that he had Acute Myeloid Leukemia and required aggressive chemotherapy. He nearly died. When he had recovered from this, he had to have two surgeries to repair a hole in his heart. He lives with that tell tale scar on his chest. During all of this, his hip socket was injured and walks with a severe limp.

All that might make you bitter. He is the happiest, most joy-filled human being I have ever met. He is smart. He has a better internal GPS than I do. Everyone he meets loves him and he genuinely loves them. Once he hears your name, he won’t forget it. We were at a church potluck last year, and he was chatting up some of the older women who were doing so much of the work. After going through the line, he informed me that he wanted to eat with “his ladies.” They swooned.

My son makes it nearly impossible to have an awkward conversation about him. Yet, it seems like so many people have such awesome awkward skills. So I want to help you learn how not to have those moments.

• Don’t Stare – I know someone who is severely handicapped or has a limp, or burn scars, or anything else that isn’t quite “normal” gets your attention. But darlin, this isn’t a zoo and they aren’t monkeys. If you aren’t going to have a conversation with them, mind your own business. Does that sound harsh? You live in a zoo. Your opinion will change.
• Don’t Force A Relatable Experience – Oh look! That total stranger at Walmart has a boy who looks like he has Down’s. I should tell them that my cousin’s wife’s sister has a Down’s baby. When you do that, you look and sound like a buffoon. That is information that doesn’t matter to anyone in the conversation. Along the same lines, don’t go on and on about how cute the disabled child is if you don’t do that with fully-abled children. It comes across as awkward pandering.
• Ignoring People Is Rude – If you think that by ignoring the disabled, they magically go away, you really don’t have much of an understanding of people in general. Nobody likes to be ignored. I would rather be screamed at than have the cold shoulder. How about you? When you pretend not to see a disabled person, you pretend not to see a person. You don’t have to become best friends, but please don’t just ignore them.
• You Aren’t The Solution King – Do not feel like you need to put in your two cents about how to take care of this person’s needs when you first meet. If there is a therapy, doctor, etc. the family probably is already on top of it. CAVEAT: If you are already in relationship with the family, feel free to share. We already know you and appreciate your care and concern.
• Pity Is A Waste – The family with a disabled person is already going through what it takes to live their lives with these difficult circumstances. It is our normal. We don’t know any better because we deal with it every day. When you look on us with pity, you are just screaming that we aren’t normal. We neither want nor need your pity. We would love to have your friendship.

• Talk To Them – Talk to the disabled person like, I don’t know, a person? Ask them about themselves. (Do you go to school? – What grade are you in? – What movies do you like? ) Then answer them. (My son goes to that school. His name is Jimmy. Do you know him? – You’re in 3rd grade? You’re getting to be quite a big kid! – I loved that movie! My favorite scene was…) It’s just conversation. No special rules are required. You have no idea what a blessing normal conversation is when most people talk at you, around you, ignore you, or stare at you.

I think Jesus did a great job explaining this. He was not nearly as verbose as me. He simply said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I don’t care if you have disabilities or not, that is some quality advice. You can make a huge impact on someone just by treating them with kindness. In a world that is dominated by mean, self-centered people, be the one that remembers names and makes little old ladies swoon.