My Little Bird Takes Flight

Tags

family, life

Emperor Palpatine wasn’t quite sure he was ready for the selfie, but the redhead was strong with the force.

My little girl is about to embark on a bold new life’s adventure, a step that I have watched her approach with impressive courage as well as a faith that this father sees as the key to whatever success she has had and will have from this day forward.  I am a bit jealous.  Alyssa is stepping into the void, with a calculated trust but trust nonetheless.  When her flight leaves for Amsterdam tomorrow evening, then for Istanbul on Friday, she will be on her own.  Friends, family, all that is familiar to her will be left here.  The place she was born to and has lived in for 22 years will be far, far away.  It’s likely I won’t see her again until next summer.

She writes about her new adventure in her blog — There and Back Again.  The thoughts she shares are wonderful to read.  She writes —

God wants all of me. Am I willing to give it to Him? My plans for my future? My relationships? My security? My comfort?

Jesus goes on to say, “Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” (Matthew 19:29)

So. Am I willing to give up the illusion of control? Am I willing to trust that He will take care of me as I step out into the unknown to follow Him?

As I pack my seemingly shrinking suitcases, preparing to leave so many things behind, I am working to loosen my grip, open my hands, and just let go.

She is going to a strange place, hoping that God can use her there in a unique way, willing to take a job that pays less than she could get from teaching in the States but an opportunity for her that she can not pass up.  Could she do the same if she stayed in a part of the world where she is comfortable?  Without a doubt, she could and would.  This is something she feels called to do.  Everything that I have witnessed from her so far tells me that is true.

Her mother is a missionary’s daughter who traveled to and lived in several different countries before she settled in the USA.  That part of her is in her daughter’s blood, an example Alyssa saw in her mother’s family.  They have encouraged her along the way, many supporting this new adventure financially and with valuable advice.. and prayer.  A good part of the dream that brought my daughter to this point in her life, has been inspired through the experiences of her cousins and other family members.

I remember what it was like for my when my own post college adventure began.  I went from college to a place that was different to me, on my own but only hundreds of miles away from my family home, with people strange to me but a culture like my own.  There were plenty of things for me to learn, especially since I was a young minister at a church with it’s own challenges.  I relished those challenges, dove in with gusto into the new adventure.  I smile as I see my daughter diving in with the same determination.  I smile even more as I realize she is far more ready for the adventure than I was.  She has chosen a much larger challenge than I did, the potential for reward equal to the size of the challenge.

Alyssa came over to my place last Friday, purged much of what she has stored out in my garage, asked me to keep some of the more fragile items in the closet in my spare room.  We shared a pizza at her favorite pizza restaurant, talked about many things during the course of our meal together.  She is nervous, like she should be.  She is prepared, as is her way.  I went to church with her yesterday morning, her exhaustion obvious in her demeanor.  I told her that she looks and sounds tired, something she admitted to while also telling me that she hasn’t slept well the past few days.  It’s natural with all that is in front of her, I told her.

Her trip this week has a tie to my blogging.  In Amsterdam, she is being hosted by the friend of one of my dearest blog friends, who I have known for many years through blogging.  How cool is that?

I am happy for my daughter, a tiny bit nervous but confident, hugely proud of my little girl.  I called her my little girl yesterday, something that offended her slightly, but I reminded her that she will always be my little girl.  Tomorrow, I will drive her to the airport, help her with her suitcases, hug her, then watch her until she disappears into the terminal.. away to new people, a new culture, a new and exciting place, a new life.

 

 

My Girl Graduates

Tags

family

I’m proud.  If that is a surprise to any one, then you are new to reading my blog.  My daughter is the jewel in my crown, the apple of my eye, her blessings in my life the reason why God has stayed real to me.  Four years ago, there was never a worry about whether she would succeed in her college career, never a question.  Only once in her four years at Taylor would I even sneak a peek at her grades.  I didn’t need to.  She is a strong, intelligent, motivated, independent, confident young woman.

See the gold tassel?  Cum laude.  Not bad.

22 years.  Each of those years, a little bit of the girl has been replaced by a bit of woman.  When she reached high school age, I started seeing the woman in her.  I realized that she would always be my girl, smiled at the thought, happy that she indeed was becoming a woman.  I watched her take her first steps as a toddler, stood back and let those steps take her in many different directions.  Along the way, I have met her and helped in those few times when she needed me to, more often than not waiting for my independent girl to ask because I know that she wants to try to do it herself.  Her mother has always been a close friend, her confidant at times, and I have been the father who has watched and waited, there for her when she needs my strength.  I like that.  She reaches for me, she always does.

I am her father, the man who was the first man in her life.  I need my daughter, the one who always makes me feel that way.

Like I said, every year it seems like a little bit of the girl has been replaced by a bit more of woman.  I saw that the last two days, as we packed up her college possessions into her car and mine, had dinner together, shared stories.  Soon, she will get on a plane and fly the Turkey, far away, start the next stage of her life.  She has done well.  Like I felt when she entered college, there is no question that she will succeed.

Congratulations to my daughter, Alyssa, college graduate!

Blessed Assurance

Tags

faith, family, Father

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine
O what a foretaste of glory divine
Heir of salvation, purchase of God
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood

Perfect submission, all is at rest
I in my Savior am happy and blessed
Watching and waiting, looking above
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long

Oh what a Savior, wonderful Jesus

The first time I remember hearing this song was my father singing in the living room of our house, Mom playing the piano while Dad sang along.  My parents were young, barely in their mid twenties, young not only in age or as parents, but also young in their faith.  One of the most beautiful blessings of my life has been watching the two people who brought me into this world grow together in God’s love, their relationship flourishing in the light of the God that they put first.. together.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine

Through my dad, I learned what it is like for a person to truly seek God, who really wanted to live out what they believe.  Dad has never been perfect, something that I have learned to appreciate as I realize how imperfect we all are, how children first see a father who is flawed yet becomes the best person as we experience life through the same eyes, the eyes of a father.  As the years have past, as my own life becomes shared through the same experiences he has experienced, as I see how my father has become one of the best people on this planet, I love him more and more.  Dad’s example led me to believe in Jesus, to want to seek God, and to see God in a genuine way.  If you knew my dad, you would understand what I am talking about.  When he sings Jesus is mine, it’s because it is true in a way that is very, very evident.

My father is more of a friend, yet still my father, these days.

Today is his birthday.  He is 76 years old.  I walked past this photo of him this morning, one I display on my fireplace mantel, and I realize how much like him I have become.. so glad that I have.  I don’t know how old he was when this picture was taken, but it must have been early teens.. he was losing his hair before he was twenty.  A friend saw that picture and told me how much I resemble my father, something that I didn’t realize before.  As I have aged, I resemble him more than my mother.  I am glad that I do and am glad that I resemble him in more ways than one.

At least I hope so.  You see, my father has shown me and everyone who knows him a character that is to not only to be admired, it is to be coveted.  This is a man who has been faithful to the same woman nearly 60 years.  She adores him for the man that he is, praises him for his love and support.  I have seen my parents grow together, fight for their love through disagreement, fiercely defend the other and put the other first above anything or anyone else.  If I had an ounce of the character shown to me over the years, I would be a much better person.  As my mother has grown sick the past few years, Dad has patiently cared for her despite the difficulties.  Does he do it without complaint?  No.  He has vented to me a few times, yet I know that he doesn’t take it out on her.  He needs her like she needs him.  Yes, I wish I had what they have.  Sadly, when it came to a wife, I didn’t get the same blessing, wish I had learned a little more from my father what it means to nurture his wife.  Dad loves my Mom, prays with her, shares with her in a way that would make anyone jealous of what they have.

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

Dad is a man who loves, loyal to a fault.  Dad cries tears of pride, openly proud of my brothers and I, of friends.  He has shown me what it means to work hard — built several houses for his family while working a difficult full time job.  Yet he still had time to show my brothers and I how to play baseball (and play the game with us when we got older), take us on countless camping trips, read the Bible with us, lead and taught at church, and showed us the value of family.  He is a leader, not just in the community but in our family, something my brothers and I as well as our mother has never doubted.  The man is as strong as can be, vital yet at 76 years, his energy and enthusiasm for life still a great example.  To say that my father is a good man is an understatement.  In it all, it is real obvious where my father draws his goodness.  He has learned a lot through his journey through life, a life that has been spent looking towards heaven.

This is my story, this is my song.  Praising my savior all the day long.

That is dad.  It really is.  I am glad for the blessing of the best father a man can have, one I can look up to, a man I can only only to be some day.  He is my father, a father that celebrate today.

Perfectly Potter

Tags

family, fun, life, personal

And here we see two very happy, possibly giddy, definitely satisfied Harry Potter nerds.  That is Hogwarts in the background, the detail so incredible, as was all of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios, Orlando.  To say that the place is magical is redundant, I suppose, since the place is all about magic, but it really is just that.  Alyssa and I went there hoping that the place would live up to the hype.  We were not disappointed.

Last Saturday morning we practically floated through the gates at Universal, ready to start the journey that we had anticipated for months.  I promised my little girl that I would treat her with a trip there as her college graduation present, praying with a bit of trepidation that I would be able to live up to the promise.  Things, literally THINGS, tried to stop me from keeping my promise — car repairs, broken teeth, car accidents.  None stopped us.  My car decided to break down last Thursday night, when I was packed and ready to drive the 3 hours to pick Alyssa up at college for our flight out of Indianapolis.  I had to scramble for a rental car, pray that I would trust God to take care of things, and forget about what that repair would cost while I was with my daughter (I succeeded).  On the way to pick up her last Friday, I witnessed a head on collision, a car turned into the path of an oncoming car.  That oncoming car crashed through the other car, spun around it and skidded to a backwards stop about ten feet from the rented car that I was driving. 

An hour later, after waiting for the accident to be cleared, I met my daughter.  We made it with time to spare for our flight.

The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios, Orlando, is split into two separate parts of the park.  One section is Diagon Alley, with Kings Crossing station next to it, where visitors can take the Hogwarts Express train to Hogsmeade.  The entrance to Diagon Alley is hidden, so much that we walked past it and had to ask a park attendant how to find it.  In front of the entrance is the Knight bus, where we had stopped so Alyssa could take a picture with its conductor (Stan Shunpike).

Once we found the entrance, we were overtaken with awe.  We felt like we had just walked into the book, the shops as well as Gringotts bank, complete with fire breathing dragon on top, so finely done that we were delighted.  Immediately necessary was a trip to Ollivander’s wand shop, where we witnessed the wand selection ceremony, then entered the shop to select a wand for Alyssa.

She wanted a wand with the hope to use it to direct her future high school band while they play the Harry Potter theme.

Alyssa chose Luna Lovegood’s wand, a fine choice.  Leaving the shop with wand in hand, we looked for the symbols placed around Diagon Alley that marked where the wand could be used to create magic.

We met plenty of characters.  Alyssa’s favorite is Hagrid, so she was ecstatic that our timing was perfect for her to meet him and pose in the sidecar of his motorcycle.

We also met Severus Snape. I have say that the guy was almost a dead ringer for Alan Rickman.  It’s one of my favorite pictures from the two days we were there.

Yes, my ginger daughter wore a tee shirt that said “MUST BE A WEASLEY”.  Hahahahaha.

We had butter beer.. twice.  It was a necessity.  Sweet.  Worth the money, as was the whole experience.  The Gringotts ride, a 4D reality ride, was fantastic.  Since I bought the Universal Express Unlimited pass, we were able to ride anything as much as we wanted.  Rarely did we wait more than 5 minutes to ride.

Most of the rides at Universal are 4D virtual rides, so if you want to ride roller coasters, you might be disappointed.  There are three real coasters there, the scariest is a ride called Rock It, the first climb literally straight up.  Our favorite coaster was the Hulk coaster, which shoots you over the first climb with a steam launcher.  There are better coasters at Cedar Point and Six Flags, but none of those parks beats the experience of Universal Studios.  The attention to detail is second to none, bringing to life movies like Jurassic Park, the Mummy, Shrek, Despicable Me, as well as TV shows such as the Simpsons and Jimmy Fallon.  There is a part of the park dedicated to Marvel comics and the funnies, also Doctor Suess.  We rode the Cat in the Hat ride, a kiddie ride, and were delighted.

We were treated to a selfie opportunity with Hashtag the Panda.  YES!

We also were surprised by the rental car that we were assigned — a red Dodge Charger R/T hemi.  Cool.  I was in heaven.  When we went to the parking spot to pick up the car, we didn’t know what car we were getting.  Neither of us believed it.

Exhausted but satisfied, we decided to close out our visit to Universal by having dinner at the Orlando City Walk.  Careful to stick to my budget, I knew we had enough to splurge on dinner.  Alyssa chose the restaurant, a cool looking place called Toothsome Chocolate Emporium.  It was a good choice, with excellent food and desserts.  At one point, Alyssa exclaimed “Dad, this is the best restaurant that I have ever been to!”.  It was an experience, my heart glad that she was having a good time.  This trip was more than I could afford, but it was not one that I could afford to miss.  It was worth every penny, my time with my girl something I will treasure for the rest of my life.  I am thankful and blessed.

Monday, we had breakfast with a woman that Alyssa had befriended and ministered to during her spring break trips to Daytona the past two years.  Denise gushed about how wonderful my daughter is, told me that they keep in touch weekly.  I can’t tell you how proud I am of my daughter.

I arrived home at 3 AM early Monday morning, tired but happy.  Three hours later I would be out of bed and on my way to work, trying to figure out how to pay the $1100 car repair bill and finding transportation while the car is being fixed (as of this writing, it’s not ready yet).  As my eyes closed, I thanked God for the gift that I experienced the last four days, a blessing that I am sure will be remembered as long as I live.

Give It A Brake — Day Two

Tags

divorce, family, fatherhood

I am glad that I thought through this situation this morning.  Even more, I am glad that I prayed about it.  Of all that has happened the past year or so, my relationship with God has changed.  I am a whole lot more aware of how God is working in my life and in the lives of others, take a little more stock in that than I might have before, and it is showing in how I pray.  I pray purposefully, aware that God is right there with me, and it’s about as close to continuous prayer than ever in my life before.  It doesn’t mean that I am a spiritual genius, only that I am more aware of God’s involvement than I have ever allowed myself before.  Believe me, I am thankful that I am.  It changes my perspective, puts optimism in a day that would have dragged me into oblivion in years past.  I would like to think that I am a different person now.. and that is a very good thing.

Divorce has changed things as well.  Ironically, that too is a reason for optimism.

My son is still on break from college.  What does that mean?  It means that he is a typical 18 year old college boy — he sleeps until noon or later.  I know that I need to be intentional with him, know what I need from him, be persistent with him.  My son lives with his mother, not me, so I can’t just demand his attention.  In some ways, I need to respect his way of doing things, understand him, remember how I was at his stage in life.  Oddly, I have his mother’s ear more now than when I did while we were living in the same house and married.  Knowing that, I took advantage of it today.

I texted my ex wife, let her know what I needed.  To her credit, she asked me exactly what I needed for her to do.  What was my plan?  I let her know that I wanted our son to contact me, let me know his availability and come to me at my office.. today.  I would then go with him to the mechanic, help him with the paperwork and communication, then go back to my office while my son waited for the news on the costs and extent of the repair.  It would teach him, I knew, and was much better than me doing it for him.

That is what happened.  My ex wife roused our son, he called me,  I told him the plan.  He came to my office, I checked out his car, then he followed me to the mechanic.  He waited while I worked.  The mechanic gave the estimate (exorbitant — nearly $900 for what should have been a simple brake pad and rotor job).  My son called me, asked me what to do.  He was panicking.  I told him that we would pay the small inspection fee, I would contact the person we bought the car from, take it to him.

I called the guy we bought the car from.  His business is buying cars, rehabbing them, then selling them to dealers.  He assured me that he would fix my son’s car for far less.

To my son’s credit, he paid the inspection fee at the mechanic, came back to my office on his own.  We talked it over.  We actually talked it over.  None of this would have happened the same way a year ago.  I told him what I could afford and why I couldn’t afford doing everything the mechanic had suggested.  I explained what my own money situation is (strained, using money saved for other purposes).  He agreed to meet me tomorrow morning, when we would take his car back to where it was purchased, where it would be fixed.

His mother texted me when I got home from work.  Call me, she requested.  I did.  She offered to help.  After I picked myself up off of the floor, I thanked her.

There are reasons to be optimistic.

Give It A Brake

Tags

family, fatherhood

My phone rang around 4 PM this past Saturday, just as I was about to climb on my bike for an indoor spin.  It was my son with a question about his car.

“Dad, what does it mean when there is a constant squeak while I am driving?  I remember it happening on our car before.”

His question was an easy one to answer and I am glad that he has no problems asking me.  I explained to him that is the noise that brake pads make when they have worn out.  The next thing to happen will be a metal on metal crunching sound when he applies the brakes.  I told him to not drive his car, get the car to me on Sunday.  I would let him have my car while I either replace the pads myself or take them somewhere to be fixed.

Worn brake pads was a lesson that I learned when I was his age, when I had my first car.  I ignored the squeak of the worn pads, hoped the brakes would last until I could afford to fix them, ended up rear ending a car when my car wouldn’t stop.  We all learn lessons with our first car.  That was just one of the lessons that I had to learn the hard way.

I still have lessons to learn as a parent.  My son called me because he knows that I will pay to have his car fixed or will fix it myself.  That is not a bad thing.  I want him to trust me enough to call when he needs help.  What I am seeing right now is that I need to teach him to take responsibility for himself.  Instead of me taking care of this car repair completely for him, I need to guide him through it.  Will I pay for it?  Yes, although I am gritting my teeth as I say that — it has been a tough month financially.  I have learned to grit my teeth, remember that the Lord has always provided.  My parents provided that example for me, teaching me not only to take responsibility for myself but also to recognize what God provides.

So what do I do?  My son did not show up yesterday, of course, even after I reminded him.  Last night I called him, left him a voice message and asked him to get his car to a mechanic today.  I will come and pay for the repair.  He texted me back, said that his mom told him that he couldn’t come to me because his mom said it was too icy yesterday (it was icy).  This morning, I texted him back and asked him what his class schedule is today.  I told him that I want those brakes fixed today, so he is going to come by my office and I will go with him to get the car fixed.

I have an idea of how bad the brakes are, by the way.  An encouraging thing happened yesterday — my son came to church and brought friends with him.  I was out in the church parking lot directing traffic (I do that regularly) when he drove past.  I heard him coming since the loud squeak of the worn out brake pads preceded him.  He talked to me when I came inside, agreed to come by my place that afternoon.

He is a kid.  Of course he didn’t come by.

Two weeks in

Tags

divorce, family

It has been nearly two weeks since that day, November 15, the day when 25 years was reduced to a document that certifies the last 25 years did not exist.  Divorce.  I walked away from the courthouse, the feeling of finality  a reality to me.  My life had changed with the pronouncement of a judge, his approval granting what I had waited the past year for.  Out in the hall after the brief, almost too brief, rehearsed to the point of insignificance, hearing, my now ex wife approached me with what seemed like an expression of pity.  She had no tears, neither did I, reached for my hand and squeezed it, wished me the best, told me that she is sorry.  I mouthed what must have been a very inadequate yes as she walked away.  I watched her walk away down the dimly lit, wood paneled hall of the courthouse, strangely thinking of how much her back side had changed since the first time we met.  I want to miss that, but I don’t.

I am relieved, glad that at least the drama of the divorce negotiation is over, my life and her life ready to move on in different directions.  There is a sense of limbo that exists while waiting for a divorce to happen, a nagging, chains that bind any progress.  That time of marriage purgatory needed to exist, I think, as the separation allowed me to process the gravity of the situation and assess just where I was at.  I needed to see that somehow God was blessing me still, would allow me to approach him, that I am still acceptable to him.  I needed to process my grief, my loneliness, some of which I did not know still existed.  I thought that I had already progressed beyond both.

That day, I needed to figure out how I felt.  I did not know.

I took the whole day off from work, not knowing what the day would have in store for me.  As it turned out, I was numb.  I could have functioned and worked that day.  I showed up in the office an hour or so after the hearing, answered a quote request, left the office.  It was pay day.  I went home, paid bills, paid my first maintenance payment, paid another debt that I owed her, marveled that there was still money left over once I was done.  My friend, John, who I had supported by going with him to his final divorce hearing five years ago, took me out to dinner that evening.  We talked about life, talked about what life is going to be like for me as I moved on, shared encouragement as he assured me that life does indeed move on, that it can indeed be blessed.

It wasn’t a bad day.

My phone rang that afternoon, caller ID showing that it was my son.  I fretted.  Would he be calling to express his anger over what had just happened?

“Dad, I hit a skunk with my car last night.  My car stinks.  What do I do?”

Did he even know what had just happened.  I dished out my advice.  That was it.  No mention of the divorce hearing.  There has been no mention since.

It was a different story with my daughter.  Honestly, I wish I had thought of how she would feel.  Selfishly, I thought more about how I was feeling, less about how my children or family would feel.  My brothers, my parents, each reached out to me and let me know that I am in their prayers.  But my daughter is thousands of miles away, on her own in a foreign country, away from the friends who support her.  It was not an easy day for her, as I found out the next morning when she texted me.  She had not slept well and she told me so.  I asked how she is doing.  She asked if it was OK if she tells me how she really feels.  Sure, I said, you can tell me anything.  And she tried to tell me, but I don’t think that she really knows.  She feels like she is in the middle, has felt the impact of living in a dysfunctional family, and she wanted me to know.  Then she asked me how I was feeling.

I am at peace, I told her, and I feel like your mother is at peace.  Not the best answer, and she told me so, told me that her mother is definitely not at peace.  I felt insensitive, but I told her the truth.  A good friend told me that my children will have to learn to deal with this.  I am going to need to move on and not worry about that so much.  They will be OK.

Funny, we moved on from that.  We are going to Florida together this January, will be going to Potter World at Universal Studios together.  That changed the tone just a little!

Last week was my first major holiday as a divorced man.  My son went with me as we travelled a few hours south to visit with my family.  For maybe the first time ever, my son was a perfect travelling companion, made me proud in front of my family.  It was a great day.

I will share more as things develop.  My life changed two weeks ago.  It is different.. and there is so much hope.  Things are happening, fun and happy things, and I like life as it is right now.

Divorce has happened.  Life is different.

Two Days

Tags

divorce, family, personal

WARNING:  I am going to write quite a bit more personally today than I normally do.  Proceed with caution.

As might be evident, I have intentionally avoided talking about my pending divorce here.  Now and then the topic has come up in a blog, but it’s just not something that I have wanted to put out there in this blog.  It’s a challenge to me as there are not too many off switches in my personality, my normally introverted extrovert self has no problem sharing whatever is itching at my soul, my heart an open book.  Anyone who knows me will probably tell you that I am embarrassingly open.  Just ask my children and they will give you an emphatic YES.  It’s the way that I am put together, the way that I have to be, both a blessing and a curse at times.

Part of the reason that I am reluctant to bring up the topic of my divorce here is my faith.  Hopefully, it is evident that I try to live my life in a way that honors God.  I want people to see my flaws, see me as genuine, but I also am afraid of showing a side of me that is contrary to what is expected of a person who wants to be known as a Christ follower, a Christian.  Divorce is a touchy subject when it involves Christians, a decision that can not be made without a whole lot of prayer, study, and talking with friends who also know God.  With me, the last few years (more than just a few) involved just that.  This was not a decision that I or my wife made overnight.  When I asked my wife for a divorce two years ago, I asked in a way that was more of an ultimatum — I need you to change, have dealt with the questions and issues enough that I need to see if you really want to be married to me.  Ultimately, she didn’t.  Say what she wants, but it was just as much or more her decision.  We both gave up.  Frankly, I don’t know who gave up first. When I did give up, I gave her enough reasons to do the same.  Years of disrespect towards me took its toll and I could no longer find a place to stuff it.

For me, I need to know that God is OK with my decision to divorce.  How odd it has felt to pray and ask God if He could bless something that I know full well God does not approve of.  Even more odd is that I could and can see that God is blessing the decision.  The months since our final separation, when we sold our house and moved into our own places, have not been a time of moving away from God.  On the contrary, I felt the wall of pain crumble, the constant stress of living with two people who were toxic to me suddenly taken away.  My walk with God has become constant, my hunger to learn more amplified by the opportunity to read and study, to bask in the quiet.  There has been much needed healing.  I can see it in myself, I can see it in my children (even my son), even see it in my wife. There is no desire to reunite, as we both see that this divorce is something that needs to happen.  We both are at peace, I think.

My son is reaching out to me.  The distance has been good for us.  He texts me, calls me now and then.  Saturday night, he sent me videos he took at the concert he was at, evidence of the influence that I have had on him over the years.  I have been the one to go to concerts with him, ball games, played golf with him as well as plenty of other sports.  I see him trying to mature, a challenge to the males of today in this age of stunted maturity.  There is hope.

And that is what this whole thing is about… hope.

Wednesday morning at 9 AM is the final hearing, the prove up.  Unless something happens to change things, I will be divorced in two days.

The next chapter begins.

Humor Me

Tags

divorce, family, personal

Keeping my sense of humor during this time of transition in my life is a challenge.  I used to think that nothing would dull my ability to laugh at life, whether it be sickness or trial, and for the most part that has been the truth.  This has not been a time of wailing, depression, or extreme loneliness — those times came before.  The challenge comes in maintaining the proper motivation for life, pushing through, staying strong, doing what needs to be done.  Even more of a stretch is recognizing what this whole divorce situation is doing to my family, how they are handling it, and deciding how I should react.

That might be the most difficult challenge.  Already aggressive and angry before my wife and I headed towards divorce, his anger was magnified by the announcement.  It’s tough for him watching the house literally and figuratively being dismantled, prepared for sale and the finality of what certainly means an end to life as he knows it.  I get it.  I feel for him.

That said, I have to carry on, keep working on getting the house ready to sell, despite his protests and his lashing out.  A week ago, last Saturday, I began preparing our living and dining rooms for painting, took down pictures and patched and taped the trim.  The living room is where my son retreats when he gets tired of playing video games in his bedroom, even has taking to sleeping on the living room couch most nights (which I do not like).  After working all day and evening last Saturday, I plopped on the couch and settled in to watch a movie, the second installment of the Rambo series.  Just as Rambo started getting into it with the bad guys, a perturbed male voice announced behind me — CHANGE THE CHANNEL, I WANT TO WATCH THE FOOTBALL GAME.  I was tired, drained, and not ready for the conflict that had just been thrust at me.  On top of that, I can’t think of a time in recent history where my son has not done exactly the same thing to me.  I rarely get to watch more than ten minutes of a movie before my son enters, demands the channel be changed, or snatches the TV remote to change the channel.

This time I refused.  I told him no.  When he started to fight me about it, I stood up.  Immediately, I had a large 17 year old boy swinging at me and connecting.  I yelled at him, told him to stop and think about what he was doing.  When he started swinging at me again, I knocked him to the floor, slapped him on the arm, backed up and told him to leave me alone.  He didn’t.  He jumped up and tried to tackle me, then when he failed to do that ran out in bare feet and shorts to the garage, where he grabbed a hammer from my workbench.  Stomping back across the garage, he announced to me that he was going to use the hammer to put holes in the walls inside the house.  I stopped him.  He swung the hammer at me halfheartedly, then threw it against the inside of the garage door.  Retreating to my workbench, where my mountain bike was also parked, he stood on the carpet there, threatening to find a tool to use to wreck my bike.

He stood there for two hours, barefooted and in shorts.  It was 7 degrees outside.  I stood inside the house, asked him to come inside and talk about what was going on, told him I was sorry for what is going on, explained that nothing he could do would change the situation.  Any damage he would do would only make the situation worse.  My son pleaded with me, don’t sell the house.  It has to be sold, I told him.

He’s angry.  I get it.  So am I, for that matter.  He’s also trying to control, using the divorce as another excuse to be aggressive.  I get that too.

At one point, I called 911 but hung up before they answered (it rang 3 times without an answer).  I didn’t want to deal with a son who was frostbitten.  I didn’t want to have to fight him, which he was challenging me to do.  I didn’t want my mountain bike to be damaged, a prize to me in more ways than one.  And I was too tired to deal with the situation for much longer.  I feigned a call to his mother, who was out with friends.  I called a friend, who at 11:30 PM had already gone to bed.  My only real choice, besides asking the law to intercede, was to wait it out.

Eventually she came home, nearly two hours into the standoff, just as I had reached my breaking point and had started yelling at him to get inside the house.  Hearing me yell, she immediately blamed me for the entire situation.  He’s obviously distraught, she exclaimed, so leave him alone.  I wasn’t going to leave until he did, even as they both berated me for loving my precious bicycle more than them.  After another half hour of standoff, he agreed to leave my bicycle alone if we would leave him alone.  We did.  He came inside, instantly charged me as he came through the door, swinging at me again.  I left, went upstairs, shut the bedroom door behind me and locked it.  It was 12:30.  The conflict had started nearly at 9 PM.

The next morning, when I came home from church, my wife insisted that I finish painting the downstairs rooms and hallway by the end of the day.  She didn’t offer to help.  It was all my fault.  I was wrong for what had happened the night before, needed to be more sensitive to our son.  While I agree with her that he is more sensitive right now, she did not agree with me when I said that he was also trying to take advantage of the situation.  There needed to be a balance.  Instead of backing him up, for a change she needs to support me and not instantly defend him.. for once.  Just because we are getting a divorce does not mean that she does not need to support me.

And so it goes.

I can’t get out of the house fast enough.  This needs to be over.  That was my prayer at 12:30 last Saturday night (or early Sunday morning).

It does suck to be me, enough that it’s almost comical.  The money that I was hoping to use to start the divorce moving was sucked into a car repair, to the tune of $1600 a week ago, with $160 added for a rental car.  Yep.  December 31, my VW decided to rebel.  Maybe it’s angry with me, too?  I only have to laugh.

I have finished painting downstairs, start painting the stairwell and upstairs hall today.  New windows will be installed in the upstairs master bedroom this Wednesday.  New carpet has already been installed, powder room tile regrouted, kitchen cabinets restored, trim replaced, doors rehung, outside of the house cleaned and repaired.  I’m close, probably 2-3 weeks away from the house being ready to list.

I’m trying to be patient.

Until then….

Break

Tags

family, personal

Here I sit, greasy and unshaven, pondering what to do with my free time while on holiday break.  My office is open today through Thursday of this week, my boss graciously holding down the fort today and Thursday.  I am thoroughly rested, accomplished Saturday while nurturing the affects of too much Christmas cheer on Friday.  While I didn’t really overdo it to the point of it being dangerous, I let my boss buy four rounds at lunch on Friday — which for me is too much.  I arrived home Friday evening, proceeded to pass out on the couch, roused at midnight by my wife.  She wanted to go to sleep and the couch is her bed when our daughter is home from college.

Christmas was actually a nice time.  We went to Christmas eve church services together as a family, celebrated Christmas day at home in our usual fashion.  Of course, this holiday was different than any other in our family, something that I know we all were thinking about even though no one said it.  We consumed our traditional cinnamon roll breakfast, exchanged gifts (nice gifts — my son wanted to give his mother tickets to a James Taylor concert at Wrigley field this summer, so I bought them and he gave them to her).  Don’t go see ‘Fences’, the movie we chose to see at the theater.  It’s real bad.  My guess is that it was far more powerful on the stage, power that did not transfer to the screen.

I am trying to be productive this week.  Finding someone who will replace the two nasty windows in the master bedroom has been a challenge.  No one wants to do just two windows, so they quote high.  Our plan is to replace those two windows, then negotiate a credit for the rest of the windows in the house when we sell the house.  Yesterday, I spent part of the day trying to get quotes for windows, did small projects around the house.  It was a decent day outside, so I washed the siding and shutters on the front of the house, scrubbed the garage door, reattached all the downspouts.  I also attempted to recaulk a window — and may give up on that.  It looks VERY amateur.

Painting starts next week around the house.  Out of respect for my daughter, I am trying to do very little to the house while she is home from college.  It’s a delicate situation — I need to do things, but I don’t want to add to the angst.

Next week also starts indoor riding season.  I need to get serious again after taking a few weeks off.  Last night I dreamed that I had entered an indoor time trial race, finished in second place despite not riding a road bike for months.  My mind is trying to tell me something.

Hope all is well with everyone.  Thanks for reading and living a little of my life with me during 2016.  Next year should prove to be quite an adventure, so stay tuned.