What the Heck Happened to My Blog?!

To quote Han Solo: "I'm out of it for a little while and everyone gets delusions of grandeur!"  I came to post on my blog and it has changed dramatically, looking all fancy and professional now.  Ah well...

There's almost so much to post about that I didn't blog this evening.  If I had my way, I would include pictures and links and make it super interesting to read.  But since I haven't posted in a some time, and since I don't have all day to write, I'll keep it simple.  

It probably comes as no surprise to the readership of this blog that I have many varied interests.  It should also be noted that within the past two weeks I finalized my divorce after 12 years of marriage.  There has been a song that I have repeatedly listened to throughout the separation and divorce: John Mayer's, "I'm Gonna Find Another You."  Near the end of the song he sings, "I'm gonna do some things you wouldn't let me do."  And I find myself in that stage.  I have cleared out furniture I didn't like.  I plan to move things around.  I've had an antique piano in my possession for years, but never got around to refinishing it like I said I would.  Now, knowing that I can bring it into the house when I'm done, I have been working to strip old, white paint off the beautiful, deep maroon finish.  Of course, because I have varied interests, and more so because I'm really good at starting cool, new projects, but really, really bad at finishing them, I also went out chasing butterflies one day and have happened upon a new pastime.  Butterfly catching and collecting is fun, because I can do it with the kids and they love it too.  Plus, I don't have to worry about getting approval to hang a butterfly collection in the house, so I've gone after it full force.  I've even gone so far as to order some rare butterflies online.  So I'm excited about the piano, the butterflies, the new room (that will probably have to wait until the summer to be completed) and just a chance to do something I enjoy free of the concern, "Is this okay with Heather?"

What had happened, however, and I say this with great shame, is that in the celebration of my new-found freedom I neglected to nurture the two most important relationships in my life: those with my sons.  I discovered that Aydan was very angry with me, and I hadn't spent much time with either he or Brennan.  So last week I took each boy out for ice cream on a separate night.  The two evenings were as different as the boys I spent them with.  Brennan talked nearly the whole time, telling me an entertaining story with minute details and a story-teller's flair.  Aydan, when questioned, responded with, "I don't know," "Sure," and "I guess."  I pushed him until the point that headway was made.  I told him that keeping emotions inside didn't help one to sort through them, and I gave him permission to be mad at me and to say whatever he needed to without thinking it would hurt my feelings.  He finally exploded and told me, "You want to know how I'm feeling!?!!  I feel shaken up and torn down."  My heart broke for him again.  He absolutely hates the divorce (and why shouldn't he?!), but it was starting to manifest itself as hatred for the people involved.  After he asked some really good, really tough questions, it came out that he still blamed me for the divorce.  I was able to answer most of his questions, and (upon the good advice of my mother) tell him that my heart was also broken, and that divorce was not something I wanted.   I have always tried to avoid blaming Heather or ruining their perception of their mother, but I finally had to tell my boys that I was not solely to blame in this mess.  I think it helped Aydan a great deal to talk about how he was feeling.  

Also on the good advice of my mother, and in large part to correct the imbalance of time spent with the boys, I have affirmed the family things we used to do and instituted a week of just "us" time.  Two weeks ago I pulled each boy out of their bed (after a particularly hard evening), brought them to my room, and we just snuggled and fell asleep together.  This week, we are doing something fun all together each night.  No friends.  No distractions for me.  Just us.  Unfortunately tonight I had spring league basketball for my girls team, but afterward we came back, I watched them fish, then we made (and ate) cookies and played a board game.  The cookies were so good the boys wished that Heather could have some...so we ran a plate over to her.  The biggest thing, though, was that I could actually FEEL us getting closer.  I watched a transformation take place, with the bickering and name-calling being replaced by politeness, consideration, and fun.  I've been reading, "Keep the Siblings, Lose the Rivalry" (after having completed Cartmell's, "Respectful Kids") and was reminded that time together to model and teach living-together skills is fundamental to healthy sibling relationships.  I loved watching my boys have fun together.  And it goes without saying that I felt extremely blessed to be having a blast right alongside them.  

There have been dark days.  I cannot deny that fact.  But more recently there have been beautiful, bright spots.  There have been joy-filled moments and days.  Sure, I've been busy, trying to handle everything that comes with running a home.  But I've also been blessed.  As my friend's father told her as he helped move her out of her home (she is finalizing her own divorce), "There are still great things ahead."  

Eve

Christmas Eve is exciting.  There is anticipation.  It's joyful.  There are times spent gazing at lights on the tree, sipping a warm drink, sitting beside a fire.  It's beautiful.

Holy Saturday is something of an "eve."  It is dark and painful.  It is somber and worshipful.  We pause, waiting again with those who mourned over the dead Christ, contemplating the hopelessness of life without Him.  But even in the darkest moment, we now know there is life and hope.  This sorrowful eve breaks forth in boundless joy when the sun/Son rises on Easter.  It's beautiful.

Hey...even all Hallow's Eve is fun.  There is candy and mayhem, friends and neighbors.  On the best Halloweens there might even be a cool breeze, a warm cider, some sweet treats, perhaps even a little scare. It's beautiful in its own way.

But tonight is an eve I've never experienced before.  What will tomorrow feel like?  I certainly don't see joy and beauty.  Finality, yes.  Perhaps a sense of release.  But there is no season for this; no accompanying ritual or meal.  It is simply the full realization of "not the way it's supposed to be."  At the same time, I don't feel sad.  Maybe I've become numb.  Or perhaps this has to come in order to be able to live without constant pain and longing.

Tonight is still and cool and quiet.  Tomorrow I will no longer be a married man.

The Death of Boyhood

We told our boys today that we are getting a divorce.  They cried.  I held it together until they walked outside, but then I went into my closet and wept bitterly.  I was overcome with sorrow that their tiny hearts had been broken, and one of the most central assumptions of their boyhood had been destroyed.

After I got it together, I went outside and held each one of them, telling them, "It will be okay" as I hugged them.  Aydan's response floored me.
"No it won't, Dad.  You're making the worst decision of your life.  Mom is a great woman.  What happened to all the breakfasts in bed, the snuggling, the forts, the swimming at the lake?"

He walked away and I was crushed.  What could I say?  Should I have corrected him, telling him that it was his mother's mistake, not mine?  He is too young for all the details that led us to this point.  So I watched him walk away, and I prayed with all my heart that I had not just lost my son.  I prayed that he wouldn't harbor bitterness against either of us, and I prayed that the wound he was feeling would slowly heal.  And I mourned silently for the passing of everything his happy boyhood contained and his acute feeling of loss that it was all over.

De-Fluevog and Sip Some Grog for this Pre-Vlog Blog

Some of my art history students encouraged me to record my trip to Europe as a vlog (video blog), and I have to say I wasn't crazy about the idea.  Even as I began my trip--turning the camera on myself and talking to no one in particular--narrating my travels, I felt conceited, awkward, and just plain silly.  I also firmly believed that no one would ever want to watch something so boring as we sitting in an airport, talking about Dramamine.  

And then I showed it to a friend.  

Even in it's raw form, even with it's lack of "interesting" material, the video seemed to captivate.  I even enjoyed watching it and remembering the trip.  It's not fancy, but it is a little bit like coming along for the ride.  For that reason, it's kind of fun to see.  

But I'm not deluded enough to think that I've created a cinematic masterpiece, or that it will become some kind of blockbuster.  I'm just saying that maybe I get it now.  If one has taken an interest in my life then it's an intimate portrait of my past two weeks.  But you'd definitely have to know me to appreciate it, I think.  

On a side note, I'm once again reminded how great my friends are.  I wasn't back in the States more than two hours before Sissney called me, and Josh called to check on my today.  For some reason I was particularly impressed by this.  Both will see me on Monday.  They could have waited until then and asked, "How was your trip?"  But they actually remembered the day I would be getting back AND made a point to call me.  It's easy to say, "I missed you", but stuff like that really shows it.  

I will be working hard to edit the video together, but it will take time.  When it is done, I'll have to figure out a way to make it available to anyone who might like to see.  For now, you might appreciate some of the best pictures from my dear brother Eric's website.  I'll have to write more about the experience and my appreciation for my brother in another post.  Jet lag is still kicking my butt.  

Wow

I was absolutely floored when I went to youtube today.

There's a funny little video I participated in.  This video, which I think is quite funny, has only 800 views.

Then there's a clip that's less than a minute long.  This little gem has over four thousand views and has twice the number of comments that mine has.

Good for my sons.  Humbling for me.

A Good Day

Following a funeral today I found myself in a real life version of one of my favorite scenes in any movie.

As it is natural to dwell on death having just been confronted with the subject, two of my closest friends began to discuss what they were thinking about, and then Sissney asked me if I thought divorce or death of a spouse would be worse.  My answer to that question is probably another post entirely, but I realized I was  living "City Slickers" and expressed that to them.  What followed was profound and beautiful as we each shared our best and our worst days.

It is probably not fitting for me to share their stories, but since I bear my soul on this site anyway, I will give my answers to any who might care to read them.
My best day was preceded by my grandfather's desire to donate a car to the church where I worked in order to receive a tax break.  The only problem was that I was in Minnesota and the car was in Phoenix, AZ.  So it was decided that Heather would visit her family in Texas, I would fly to Phoenix, and I would drive to Texas to pick her up and return to Minnesota.  On my best day, I woke up early to leave my grandparent's condo.  I drove out over the hills surrounding Phoenix just as the sun was climbing over their peaks.  As I blared Neil Young's "Cripple Creek Ferry" on the car stereo, I was compelled to stop at a dried creek bed in order to explore and savor the moment.  This was the first of several serendipitous stops on that road trip, with my favorite being in New Mexico.  You see, I had decided to take no major highways on the trip, and so I accidentally ran into White Sands National Monument--a beautiful, snow-like desert surround by a sea of red rock.  As the moon rose, the sun set, and the temperature dropped, I sat in utter silence, completely alone without a soul around me for miles...and I thought of the words of God to Israel, "I will lead her into the desert and I will speak tenderly to her."  I didn't hear the voice of God, but I felt his presence and the impression of his word on my heart.  The moment was transcendent in its beauty. When it was over I drove on through most of the night to reach Heather in Texas.  That was my best day.

I could not think of my worst day without tearing up.  The story has been told here: how the boys fell into the creek, how the cold made them shiver but the fear that they might not be discovered froze their hearts even more, and how we spent a day in the hospital getting Aydan's core temperature back to normal.  I blame myself for not being there when they needed me.  It scares and saddens me to think I could have lost them.  That was my worst day.

I see in my best day my present-day love for adventuring, for retreating to new, far-off, isolated places.  I see that my worst day ended well, so I should count it as a good day, because I appreciate my sons more as a result of it.  But even more, I see today as a good day.  A time to reflect on the deep things of life; to have good conversations with great friends; to remember to live well.

Playing Grown Up

This is a glorious Saturday morning.  Tuesday is the last game of the season, and our play-off hopes are pretty slim.  Last night, on Senior Night, we won big in our last home game, so today there is no practice.  The boys' basketball games aren't until this afternoon.  So I woke up a little later than normal, didn't get out of bed for an hour or so, took the dog for a walk, then sat down to a quiet house.

Do you remember when you were a little kid and you tried on your dad's clothes?  Or when you saw him shaving and wanted to do it with him?  (I'm sure girls remember something similar: trying on heels, wanting to put on make-up.)  It was fun trying to feel "grown up."

But when you do grow up, all the anticipation is gone with the reality that those tasks aren't really all they're cracked up to be.  Shaving is a chore.  Driving can be a hassle.  But what I discovered this morning is that there are still moments when I feel like I'm trying to play grown up.  I made myself some orange rolls, brewed some coffee, grabbed my well-worn copy of "Walden" off the bookshelf, turned on my Classical Best-Sellers album, and settled down on my nice, warm (albeit somewhat dog-smelling) couch.   The first sensation was, "Ah....  Nowhere to be.  Nothing to do.  Nice and quiet.  Relaxing.  Rich and sweet tastes.  Stimulating thought.  Beautiful, soothing sounds.  What a perfect morning!"  Then I thought, "This feels so weird!  It feels like I'm trying to be some uber-sophisticated adult, soaking in all the luxuries of life.  I feel like I'm still trying to be an adult...and maybe trying too hard."  It was odd, but it was still glorious.

And in the middle of this thinking, I read the following passage from Thoreau.

Meanwhile my host told me his story, how hard he worked "bogging" for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade or bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use of the land with manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father's side the while, not knowing how poor a bargain the latter had made.  I tried to help him with my experience, telling him that he was one of my nearest neighbors, and that I too, who came a-fishing here, and looked like a loafer, was getting my living like himself; that I lived in a tight, light, and clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of a such a ruin as his race commonly amounts to; and how, if he chose, he might in a month or two build himself a palace of his own; that I did not use tea, nor coffee, nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat, and so did not have to work to get them; again, as I did not work hard, I did not have to eat hard, and it cost me but a trifle for my food; but as he began with tea, and coffee, and butter, and milk, and beef, he had to work hard to pay for them, and when he had worked hard he had to eat hard again to repair the waste of his system--and so it was as broad as it was long, indeed it was broader than it was long, for he was discontented and wasted his life into the bargain; and yet he had rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day.  But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things.  For I purposely talked to him as if he were a philosopher, or desired to be one.  I should be glad if all the meadows on the earth were left in a wild state, if that were the consequence of men's beginning to redeem themselves.  A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture.  But alas! the culture of an Irishman is an enterprise to be undertaken with a sort of moral bog hoe.  I told him, that as he worked so hard at bogging, he required thick boots and stout clothing, which yet were soon soiled and worn out, but I wore light shoes and thin clothing, which cost not half so much, though he might think that I was dressed like a gentleman (which, however, was not the case), and in an hour or two, without labor, but as a recreation, I could, if I wished, catch as many fish as I should want for two days, or earn enough money to support me a week.  If he and his family would live simply, they might all go a-huckleberrying in the summer for their amusement.  John heaved a sigh at this, and his wife stared with arms akimbo, and both appeared to be wondering if they had capital enough to begin such a course with, or arithmetic enough to carry it through.  It was sailing by dead reckoning to them, and they saw not clearly how to make their port so; therefore I suppose they still take life bravely, after their fashion, face to face, giving it tooth and nail, not having skill to split its massive columns with any fine entering wedge, and rout it in detail; - thinking to deal with it roughly, as one should handle a thistle.  But they fight an overwhelming disadvantage--living, John Field, alas! without arithmetic, and failing so.

I love "Walden" so much because of passages like these.  Thoreau constantly challenges me to live simply.  So much so that the word, "Simplify" hangs on my living room wall.  Elsewhere he says, "Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one.  Instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce everything else in proportion."  The hour in bed this morning was spent researching rain suits.  Since I'll be in Scotland in early March, and since my current rain suit is at least 15 years old (when it was my constant companion at every Ohio high school track meet), I want to get something new.  My four-fold goal is durability, wearability, light weight, and economical.  You probably don't need me to tell you that the four rarely meet in one jacket.  Quality is not cheap.  Durable clothing isn't always light.  So I've been researching exactly what I want for the past several days and I think I've come to a contender I might actually buy.  But in the midst of this, Thoreau whispers, "Why not just use the ratty old rain suit? Sure it leaks a little.  Sure it's not 'breathable' like newer materials.  Sure it doesn't stretch, it's a little worn, it's kind of ugly...but in the end, doesn't it basically get the job done?"  Maybe that's not Thoreau.  Maybe it's the Holy Spirit reminding me to be a good steward of my finances.  Maybe it's neither.  Maybe I'm just a cheapskate.

In any case, the reminder to simplify doesn't end there.  In the past six months I've done the exact opposite of Thoreau's recommendation.  Instead of three meals, I now eat six.  Instead of starting simply and working easily, I start with meat and wear my body out.  I have always said such a fitness regimen would only be an experiment, but I have liked the results enough that I want it to be a lifestyle.  But is that the life I've always said that I wanted?  See what I mean?  "Walden" is great stuff: challenging, thought-provoking, and constant in its reminder to "front only the essentials of life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not truly lived."