Living Hazzardously

Little pieces of our journey with Jesus

Pages

The Father Puzzle

by

The Father Puzzle

The cool thing about a puzzle is when it’s all done! Raising boys is definitely a challenging puzzle, 955,152,000 pieces to be exact. That’s how many seconds of intentional fatherhood I have had before the final piece was put on the table with a good meal and a long goodbye yesterday. After we said goodbye to Alex, Miranda, Sophia and the soon coming next baby, I held her hand and heard the tears drip from her face.  I sat next to Jess, and we realized its completeness. Jacob is in Wyoming and has set in roots that will likely keep him there, Chris flew the coop many years ago to Hawaii and Germany, never to return. Alex and Mir are now driving into a new chapter of life out west. And of course, Sam flew to his final resting place only a couple years ago. Although the puzzle is never truly complete, there is a time when we don’t have the puzzle at our house anymore and they start building it at their house, with their own pieces. I guess this is called “empty nesting”, I call it “I’m not ready yet”.

Even though Alex flew the coop many years ago and started his own life, Alex moved “close” before Jacob spread his wings and landed in Cheyanne. I’ve always had a son close at hand to help me. A son to teach my trade and new skills. Now it’s a phone call, text message or a zoom meeting to say hello. No more daily hugs for this old coot. No more sitting and watching my son driving down my driveway for our daily job. No more escorting me while I drive a massive crane truck home. No more “Good morning kid”.

955,152,000 Seconds

15919200 minutes

265320 hours

11,055 days

363 months

30.25 years

Only 44,848 ,000 seconds short of one billion. That’s less than 1.5 years. That is how long I have been performing “dad” duty. Today was my last day teaching my sons face-to-face, don’t get me wrong, I still have Al. But Al will never run a saw, install ductwork, braze a line-set, run a truck weighing in over 50k pounds or pull a trailer. How does a father transition from the one thing he has done every day for over 30 years to being a distant father, teaching over a phone or a text? It’s all I really was good at for my entire life, or maybe I should say “It is the only thing I took so seriously that I never wanted to retire” (aside from my marriage to Jess). I love teaching trades to my boys more than pretty much anything, including ice cream.

I have been choking back my ever-increasing emotions for days and weeks. I have been physically sick and lacking sleep. Is this NORMAL? I mean, do all fathers feel like this when the last son moves away? When you realize that not even one wants to live nearby? My sons have learned these lessons of independence well! They have become dedicated husbands, leaders and critical thinkers. Each one has struck out on a path and has no plans of returning to my basement for the video game console and pizza rolls. I wanted to do the same thing. When I was their age, I wasn’t able to move nearly as far as I wanted to. I was held in a town where my life was torture (aside from my boys), I was stuck doing what I thought I was supposed to do, “Make a happy life” and shut up! I was never encouraged to provide what the Lord put on my heart for my family. Jess has emboldened me to strive and become successful as the Lord leads us. This was the final piece of being a father, teaching my sons to lead with a faithful wife.

So why do I feel this way? Isn’t this exactly what I did? … Absolutely!! And it is exactly what I taught my boys to do… I am so proud of all the boys, striking out, flexing independence and living the dreams I had for them, starting over 30 years ago. 

But don’t you still have one son? Living at home? Well, that’s a great question, and the answer is definitely a resounding yes. But I can’t teach Al to build a family, provide for his wife, lead his children in the paths of righteousness… I can teach Al to water the dogs and not make a mess, I can teach Al to clear the table before he wipes the table. I can even teach him the finer things in life like a quiet campfire (but not lighting it) and a cool evening… but I can’t expect Al to write a killer resume for a pastoral position or how to sacrifice oneself for the family he is responsible to provide for. It’s not that I can’t help Al to become, as he puts it, “more independent” by making a good choice to not get mad when someone else gets a larger french-fry than he did. 

God gave me a unique perspective in life. Here is a little history for you to help see this generational journey. I don’t know much about my father’s father aside from he was a very cruel drunkard. There is a story about how my grandfather brought my father and his brother into the BWCA (a wilderness area in northern Minnesota) when they were pre-teens. He dropped them off on the shore and told them he would be back because he needed to run into town for a few more supplies…after a week (actually I was told it may have been two weeks) he returned, broke, hungover and in a complete loss of time. My father was very abusive as well. I remember a day that I was “disobedient” while I was skiing, and I went into a puddle. My punishment was to stand outside in my white briefs and ski boots that night until I learned to respect him. Or the day I was preschool aged, and I was “afraid of the dark basement” so my father locked me into the basement (no lights) until I stopped screaming (to this day I still have a fear of the dark). I remember screaming until I was horse, and it was no longer a choice to be quiet or scream.

With this being told, I remember a conversation with my father. My father was telling of some stories of about his father, he told me he was trying to do better than his father did. That day, my father passed on his legacy to me… My father’s legacy that I have passed on to my sons is simple, “Do better than I did with your children”. I have tried, I have failed many times, but I have also succeeded, by God’s grace. 

In conclusion of this blog post, I admit I am falling short in many areas of life, I also think I am doing pretty darned good in others. When my life is complete, I want one thing at my funeral to be read… “His father’s legacy was to do better with my children, and I did!”

My story will now continue with a new challenge in life, to help Al become as independent as he can be. To help Al achieve in his life all that I can teach him so he may become the best man he can become. You see, the legacy will continue, it’s just a different type of puzzle with Al, it’s a puzzle Jess and I will always work on, one piece at a time, together. But we will never actually complete this puzzle or pass this puzzle on to Al to build by himself.

May Gods amazing Grace fill your heart today in whatever the struggle.

AHHH SWEET ROMANCE!!

by

AHHH SWEET ROMANCE!!

As we headed into Home Depot for our very first time, Sam tagged in behind us and Jacob walked beside us but Al blasted the path and was super excited with all the lights and Christmas decorations. The year was 2014 and I was just learning the nuances of this family dynamic. It only took me about two or maybe three trips with Al to discover my massive mistake that day, a mistake I see happen over and over again as people meet Al the first time. 

As we started about the store for a simple trip, or so I thought, I sensed that I had already made a mistake, but I had no clue what or how big it was. You see, I thought I knew how to react to Al and his childish excitement he displayed at the lights. Jess had already started the “regulation” process with Al, but I was just so happy that Al was excited to be out that I perpetuated the excitement, just a little. What I didn’t know was why and how…. Like so many others when they meet Al, they see him as a happy, sweet and kind person with great manners, which is all true but with a huge “but” attached to that statement…. Al does not self-regulate, he amps up and if left unchecked, the obsessive side takes over without notice and he becomes quickly “out of control.”

What do I mean out of control? We see him at church, and he is always so sweet and kind and respectful! What you may not see is lying in wait just under the careful desire he has to show respect, it can turn in a moment and the next thing you know, we are swiftly exiting the church without saying goodbye to anyone. Jess told me once “You just don’t know how many times I have had to leave somewhere because Al was out of control, we would just drive to a park or somewhere that the police wouldn’t get called on us and Al would be screaming and smashing stuff, a couple times I had to call the police or bring him to the police station!”

It may seem like he is simply a sweet young man that is so kindhearted, but the truth is, he cannot control his thoughts alone, he needs constant oversight, redirection and reminders to keep him safe and rational. To be honest, I was not prepared to be a stepdad to Al, he is so much more than I thought I was signing up for! I can honestly say I do not regret being his stepdad. Even after being insulted, punched and kicked… he is still my boy, and I love him.

And why did I title this post sweet romance? Simple, it’s not romance that blinded me of the role I was taking on, it wasn’t Jesse’s pure heart and loving smile… it wasn’t romance that kept me involved…. It was God giving me a new heart, a new reason in life, a “repurposing” if you will. Although Jess certainly played a role, and we are still very romantic, that’s all great but if that’s all it was? I can now honestly admit I would have turned tail and run for the hills like any other sane single man these days. I was “twitterpated”, sure, but it was going to take more than that! God gave me a new life, a second chance, a new beginning… so that makes three times I have been “born”, I guess. 

The days are long, but the years are short. 

Please follow this post as I detail how I became the stepdad to Al and Sam

MIND EQUALS BLOWN!!

by

The day that spelling hurt my head.

I have dyslexia and I have discovered a thing called “auto-correct” or another form is “spell check” BUT, what is Dyslexia? Is it stupidity? Is it a learning disability? Or is it just the way things are? Like a hair color? or personality traits?

The MAYO defined it as:

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder that involves difficulty reading due to problems identifying speech sounds and learning how they relate to letters and words (decoding). Also called a reading disability, dyslexia is a result of individual differences in areas of the brain that process language.

Dyslexia is not due to problems with intelligence, hearing or vision. Most children with dyslexia can succeed in school with tutoring or a specialized education program. Emotional support also plays an important role.

Though there’s no cure for dyslexia, early assessment and intervention result in the best outcome. Sometimes dyslexia goes undiagnosed for years and isn’t recognized until adulthood, but it’s never too late to seek help.”

CURE!??!!! I DONT WANT A CURE! I SAY HOGWASH! Dyslexia is a much-needed form of information processing for my talents, if you took it away from me, I would be crushed!!! Sure, it makes things harder in academia, but let’s be honest, school is a very short time in life (unless you become a teacher I guess). I attended school until I could “drop out” in my sophomore year of high school, how stupid? Well, let me tell you a secret… In the Eighth grade I earned a 2 year all-expense paid ride at the UofM but never used it. For me school was terribly slow repetition and mundane. My IQ was measured many years ago and it was actually very high. (stating facts, to prove my point, not bragging) SO WHY DID I DROP OUT?

I made the decision to drop out after 10th grade geometry, I was so excited to start this wonderful world of shapes and magic. Instead, I was forced into a chair, and we started reviewing basic math. For a few weeks I tried really hard to sit in the class and learn but all we did was basic math skills… AND I MEAN BASIC! I was so disappointed and discouraged that I just gave up, I dropped out of school and started experimenting with what destroyed my life for many years to come. That is the topic of future blogs.

I have been doing my own research on dyslexia and have found some breakthrough information that has helped me learn how to better function in my very unique world and how I see things. Dyslexia can better be described using a threefold approach. I will try to explain this complex pattern of thoughts in a simple and short manner. I know I will misrepresent this information as some folks understand it and may leave out other information that, yet others may understand better. My point is not to perfectly explain the Dyslexic person in every situation but rather to represent my challenges in my own experiences.

When I say the sentence “The sky is blue” we can see basically three distinct ways to process that sentence. The first is to look at the words and think of the words as they make up the sentence (word thinking). The second, and probably the most common way, is to visualize the “blue sky” (picture thinking). BUT the dyslexic person may see both words and pictures with an enhancement… 3D thinking. Thinking. Seeing the words and the picture but in a 3-dimensional way. Seeing the words from front, back, top and bottom. This is why I can never seem to master spelling. I see words and letters from all sides as if they are objects as well as words. But wait, there is more: I see the picture of a blue sky from three dimensions as well.

MIND EQUALS BLOWN!

So, for me it is like seeing every sentence, word, idea, thought and concept as a three-dimensional computer-generated display. Think of the “Iron Man” computer, it displays a three-dimensional interactive interface that can be spun, twisted, expanded and changed… So, I can see what I want to make, do or feel but I can’t explain it in common language. 

Mayo got it all wrong! Dyslexia is not a deficiency and certainly not a disability, it’s an enhancement. And gives me the ability to create things in my head and troubleshoot things that some are unable to even understand. Does this make me superhuman? Better? Superior? Well, no but it does make me better at what I do. And to be frank, I love my disab-yslexia. And so does Jessica, because she is a word thinker and together, we are perfect, apart we fall short. I thank the Lord for my disability.

I pray you feel our Lord has richly bless you this beautiful day, Living Hazzardously.