Living Hazzardously

Little pieces of our journey with Jesus

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The reward of a Feral child 

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Is it possible to give rewards too often? I was often told by may father “YOU F%^&$#@ KIDS ARE THE WORST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME!!!!!!” My father had a way with words. It was always so uplifting, rewarding and positive whenever he opened up and shared how he felt about us… 

 I was never allowed to have friends and the friends I had, I kept a secret from my father. My friends never met his approval, some because they were “indians” some because they were “N#*&^%#” and others because, well I guess I never really knew why, but they all had to be gone before he got home or all hell would break loose.  What I did know is nothing should distract me from my work. 

I was raised on the streets of Minneapolis, My father wanted very little to do with me unless he had work for me to do. I remember the day like yesterday, I dropped a granite block on my foot in order to attempt to break my foot just so I could have time off of working for my father…. 

  • Building and staining a fence with a toxic mixture of boiled linseed oil, creosote and a brush. 
  • A hammer and bent nails, bent so badly that they would take forever to actually straighten enough to reuse.
  • A disk sander and old painted scrap lumber, sanding it down so I could recoat with the toxic concoction. 
  • Hundreds of granite paving blocks, harvested from the streets of Minneapolis by hand, hauled home from miles away cleaned of concrete and then dissolving the asphalt with gasoline, finally cleaning with muriatic acid to achieve a perfect completion.
  • Limestone as big as my little arms could span, set and adjusted, backfilled and leveled.
  • Digging and turning the sod by hand for a vegetable garden. 

These are merely a few outdoor chores that I was required to complete before he got home, before he started screaming and beating us for never meeting his stringent requirements. He was always gracious, he often reminded us how benevolent he was for tolerating us children, because after all we ruined his life. This may seem “made up” to many folks and it is certainly unbelievable to the “participation trophy” generation… but to me, this was life, life on the north side.

It was a hot summer’s day. I remember that my little brother broke his leg at some point and got a free pass from work. I never got a free pass. Somehow I remember it was a saturday, probably because that was the day we went to the salvation army store in downtown to buy more broken bikes, stereo turntables that would be stacked with the thousands of others, or maybe the hundreds of picture frames that my father planned to use to frame his collection of mass produced “one of a kind” renditions. But the hoarding and abuse can be for a day in the future, today I want to write about that RED GRANITE BLOCK, and how it met my foot.

It was hot, I was shirtless and I had been shuffling granite blocks back and forth for dad for hours already, he had to find just the right shape, color and size, it was a never ending task. I’m not sure when my little brother had his broken leg, in the past or present, I just remember he got to sit, and I had to work… always working… never enough, never good enough, never an end! And I was tired, as a preteen boy, I wanted to play trucks in the dirt, build tunnels and cities and hang out with the only friend I really had, my younger brother. But that would not be my fate on this hot summer day, and I devised a plan to have a break, a break in my foot that would afford me a break from work. I didn’t want to hurt myself, I just wanted a break. I saw what happened to fingers that were caught between blocks, as I personally had many injuries and they all healed as I continued to haul these blocks… 

Here is the set up, I knew my foot would need to be on the concrete driveway, for a viable break, and I knew it would hurt. I decided to grab the biggest blocks, show how I was struggling to haul these massive loads back and forth. Just a few blocks ahead to really set the scene, make sure it was around the corner so dad wouldn’t actually see but would be close enough to hear and react… ONE… TWO… DROP!!!!

My foot absorbed the impact with excellent resilience and I knew instantly, I SCREWED UP… no break, not really as much pain as I was expecting and no blood… And in full predictability, after all this careful planning, I still finished the day working. My dad couldn’t bring my day to a soft close and give me play time. This was year after miserable year, I dreaded summers because it was just work, my friends in the neighborhood would bike past and the first few years I could see them out on the streets, in the alley and on the sidewalks, but soon this massive fence project had enclosed the yard, encapsulating his hoarding of junk to keep the city inspector at bay. The inspector can’t write tickets for violations unless it can be seen without stepping foot on the property… Dad had this figured out… every ticket he paid for his junk was taken out of the backs of his children, either in hard labor or a good old fashioned beating for not keeping his junk hidden behind the barricades, unseen from the alley during the drive by. 

So, no broken foot… I know now the foot is a difficult part to break because there are so many small bones, I should have crushed a toe I guess. And so my summers continued, year after year, rewards for nothing, left alone to raise ourselves, beaten and survived, feral child… by age ten, I had started forming my own protective avatar… 

When I was a bit younger I smiled constantly, I was called “Cheary Charlie” because I had a great outlook on life and I was always a happy child, bringing joy to every set of eyes that landed on my face or gave me the time of day. My grandmother, grandfather, mom, uncles, aunts, neighbors… Everyone confirmed this joy in my heart, everyone but my father. 

My avatar was angry and took away my smiling, my avatar stole my outward appearance and replaced it with a cold, unchangeable, calloused facade. Showing everyone what they wanted to see. I was now invisible and safe. I no longer needed to be honest with my true self, I just let my avatar run my face and I got to hide and be safe. By age 12,  I had gone feral…on the northside, in Minneapolis. A feral boy, beaten and whipped. I no longer had joy, smiles or concern, even for my little brother… 

I talked to my brother the other day. He shared some from his perspective, it helped me remember I was not the only person suffocated by the hell of living in that house. This hell was lurking around every doorway, in the stairs and every sacred inch of hoarder madness.   

There it is, a man with no good father figure to raise him, raising three men, doing the best he can as a feral child turned father… Rewards? What is that? I simply did the best I could to teach them how to be Godly,  loving, kind, honest and motivated. I never rewarded them for “trying”. I rewarded them for putting others first and doing their best, I rewarded them for good attitudes and honesty, I rewarded them for caring and not quitting… I was never a “friend”, I was only a father. Although my methods are perhaps highly frowned upon now by all the experts, I will let the court of public opinion declare my success. My boys turned out exceptionally well and are fully prepared for whatever the world has coming their way. Never given a participation trophy, only reward for meritorious attempts that lead to success. 

If I were writing to my younger self, I guess I would say: “life will be hard, are you kidding me? Your life is going to be pretty horrible! You will lose your joy, for a time. You will suffer long and hard. Your days will be difficult but in time, the years will be easy. Do not give into despair. You will survive to face even more later on. Remember, your reward is the joy, the joy that comes in the morning!”

You see, God gave me more than I can handle, at least for a time when I was rebellious and walked this earth in my own strength, before I surrendered to God. I was strong, I was talented, I was perhaps even somewhat invincible… but I was incomplete and I, EVEN I, was in need of a savior. I thank God for a second lease on life. I truly hope you find your second chance in life, but if you are still wandering around the world with a lack of joy, you can find rest, you can have that break I was looking for as a young child, you can fall on the one name above all others. You can call out to have Him save you from the hell on earth and the hell to come, that name is JESUS. 

God bless, Charlie

Caution! Doors and wind and cussing ahead.

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As we round the corner of this journey, we see a bit of light… is it the light at the end of the tunnel or is it the headlamp of a locomotive? Jess and I have no doubt this work is manifesting in the culmination of God’s good calling on our life. Even when we get hit, we rebound and things work out just fine. 

Last week we pulled the old door out and found a hole where we needed some bagged concrete in the threshold, so we cleaned it out, formed it up and poured it full. NO PROBLEM! Then a fast moving weather front came into town and we needed to cover the masterpiece of bagged concrete that my puppies decided was the only place to “plant the paws” as they blew past the yellow ribbon blocking any reasonable person from crossing… dogs are not human, they don’t even read… “Caution” 

As the weather front started to roll into town I made the quick decision to cover the concrete with plastic to protect it from the impending rain that would surely transition the fresh concrete into a slurry of gravel. 

BUT! The wind hit with no warning and hit so hard and so unpredictably.. I heard the crash, felt the floor shake and turned quickly to see the brand new door that we had leaned into the corner of the entry, laying in a manner that was so unnatural… I instantly recognized the structure surrounding now looked like a bone protruding from a compound fracture… I proclaimed “SHOOT” but it wasn’t the word shoot that flew out of my mouth… The next day I spent a few hours putting humpty back together… you can still see the scar, but it’s fixed, and perhaps it is stronger than the original? 

We waited another day before moving the new door into position, just to give the repair time to cure. The installation went well the next day and I was so grateful for the help I had as we guided the door into its final resting place. 

As I reflected on how quickly my colorful expletive slipped out of my mouth, I remembered where I came from and how my father would have screamed and cussed for hours after something like that. I remembered how he would have thrown tools, smashed anything in his reach, “spanked me” for not preventing this tragedy… Stuff would fly and cussing was normal. The wake of terror I experienced whenever my father was around created more havoc and destruction in my life than I could have imagined and it haunts me still to this day… I remembered I learning how my grandfather would have likely beat my father in this same situation… Looking back and realizing I may have thrown out a cuss word, without restraint, but my legacy, like my father before me, was coming from a long line of abuse. I should just thank God we have come so far from where my grand-father was to where my sons are… Legacy is all I can leave behind for my future family.!  I know I will never even meet many of my future family members but as My father never met my sons and I never met my grandfather, I can still honor them with my legacy… I Pray this trend upwards will continue for many generations. 

I am hoping to start painting no later than Wednesday. God willing, I will have help. But early this coming week, I have to focus on a few items for work. I wish I could just go and paint, but I do have other obligations. So like Nehemiah, we will continue to work on the things I am called to do and praise God for all the help we are getting.  

A donkey fell in a well on Sunday. 

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As time goes on, I realize more each day that for me, work is a form of worship. I’m not condoning over work or work addictions. Adam was created to work, he was made as the keeper of the “Garden”… in some translations it may read “caretaker” or another may say “Steward” but over and over I see this underlying theme that we are to do all our work in 6 days and rest on the seventh… 

The Lord’s day, Shabbat, Day of Rest, Sunday, Saturday, Seventh Day, Sabbath, Sabot, Sabbatum, Sabbaton, Shabbath are just a few different names for the day we should keep holy. This seemingly odd command of this principle… one day out of seven, but for what?

Some religions and Christian denominations have put such a heavy emphasis on a particular day, set of rules or procedures and a dedication to this “day” that in some ways they have become a slave to the day. Rules and particulars that are so cumbersome and difficult to “keep” they literally allow no rest, if they truly “keep” the one in seven days…  They are continually, intensely and fully focused on not violating the rules and regulations that are identified with the sabbath day. 

“What is sabbath?” has this question ever truly been addressed, answered and correctly put into perspective? If so, By who? When? How?

 “The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath” according to this statement, am I the lord of my sabbath? Is it for me? The sabbath is not the lord over me… Do I command the sabbath? Do I define the sabbath? Do I get to choose? Or is there some other meaning to take away from this? 

“For the Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.” Who is the son of Man? Because it sure looks like the “son of man” gets to call the shots here… 

“One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.” Each one should be convinced? Wait , can’t I be convinced wrong is right? 

“So the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.” Here we go again… Who is the “Son of Man”

A quick search said there are over 100 verses that reference “Sabbath” or eludes to the concept of sabbath. That’s a lot of verses. So do your homework and see what the creator of the universe did himself and recommends us to do as well… yes, I said “recommends” (I realize its a command, but this is a blog so I get to embellish the words). The bible is clear that you won’t go to hell for a Sabbath violation, but if the one that “Knit” you into your mothers womb says “Take one day out of seven to not work…” Well, I think it’s pretty smart to pay attention.

We still need to answer who is “The Son of Man” very plainly, it is a title of Jesus, the lord of the sabbath. Did Jesus set an example? His example of rest: He Healed many times on the sabbath, he taught in the churches (synagogue) Plucking heads of grain (gathering food) and even made a point of “helping a donkey or son out of a well”..

 All these are clear examples of work, Yet the Lord of the Sabbath commands us to rest from our work… 

I guess we should look into what is work? If we can define this so well, we can achieve a perfect legal definition and in doing so, no longer violate the sabbath… or, do we simply realize we are to do things that refresh our souls and focus us on our creator? Lets not get bogged down in worldly definitions, traditions and man’s tight fisted measurements? Let us simply realize the purpose of the command, its nature, its value, its real meaning… Rest… maybe a nap? (I always try to get a Sunday nap with my girl) Maybe a trip to the store for ice cream? Maybe a movie? Maybe a task that you find refreshing? For instance…some folks like to read (I actually find reading very stressful). Maybe a puzzle? (seems like work to me) Or maybe building a donkey shelter?… Whatever you do, make it restful and Honor the God of creation on that sabbath day.

So now that we have “defined” work, I work on many things on my sabbath! I work on relationships with those that are in my life. I feed my pigs and chickens. Some days I may work on my boat, my motorcycle or perhaps I go mow the trails… The way I see it is this, “Do something different, something therapeutic, something that gives you calm, something refreshing”. If I sit all day on my sabbath, I become filled with pain from my fibro, so I need to move, I need to get out and do something. I choose to do things that really don’t “need” to be done. Instead, I do things that fill my life with things that bring me rest… like a motorcycle ride, or a boating day where I catch no fish, or preparing the trails for a relaxing hike, something non productive, something that isn’t stress. 

Remember how I started this post? Well if you read the entire post so far, I hope you find this closing helpful.  

I am asked so often: “How’s it going at Sam’s Place?” and I usually reply with some dramatic and awkward answers like “WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DO!” or  “ITS SHOCKING HOW MUCH WORK THERE IS TO DO!” Maybe what I should be saying is “Some days the Lord provides more help than I can effectively manage and I struggle to keep everyone assigned to the task at hand. Yet others are not so busy. We trust God every step of the way. There is more work than I accomplish on my own, yet somehow God provides just enough each day. Thank you for asking and thank you for your prayerful support. I would certainly like more help, we trust God will provide according to His timing.” 

I really do not want people to think I am overwhelmed (even though I may have my days). It is an extraordinary project and we have a lot to accomplish. God has given me an extraordinary skill set and I want to honor the Lord by working hard in the tasks he has assigned for me. But I do need help. 

I am still supporting my family by earning a living with Spring Lake Heating and Air. I am still raising pigs for sale. I am still a husband and a full time father to our son with special needs. I love to worship on Sundays.  I love every part of listening to a good sermon. I love Sunday school with like minded adults. I love sharing God’s good news with others. 

I work extremely hard and I love to work hard, BUT… I also need a sabbath day.

I hope this blog helps you to put your sabbath into perspective and helps you realize just how important it is to “honor the sabbath”.

How can you Honor God by setting your sabbath day apart?