Easter week blog off - Finale

Today's topic is forgiveness, whether for yourself or someone else, because love was more important.  I'm going to roll the clock back to last October again, are you starting to see a pattern here?  All the important things that happen to me seem to revolve around that month.  Committing 16 or more nights to our haunted farm means we need find someone to watch our daughter more often than usual.  That means calling my parents into play. A misunderstanding as to who was watching her when, resulted in an argument that drove a wedge between me and my folks. 

Everyone handles conflict differently, yelling, berating each other, guilt trips, wrestling, and sometimes all out slugfests.  In my mother's case, the silent treatment is her weapon of choice.  After a very heated exchange at their house, I was asked not to come back.  I wasn't their son anymore, they told me.  While that comment cut deeply, I relied on my wife and our plan.  We had decided on who would watch our daughter and when well ahead of time. To our knowledge, we'd expressed this plan to both pairs of grandparents so they could schedule accordingly.  Miscommunication at this point didn't make me wrong, in my mind the argument wasn't my fault.  I had my daughter's best interests at heart and if anyone, even my parents, disagreed, that was on them.  Period. 

The holiday season passed with very little interaction between me and them.  I was assailed by doubt on multiple occasions, but I fell back on my wife.  I had done nothing wrong.  I was living my life, making decisions with and for my family, and if my parents disagreed, it was still on them. That fact had not changed.  If they wanted to isolate themselves from us, and from their granddaughter, that was their choice.  There was nothing I could do about it.  I concluded time was being wasted because of their decision to be prideful. 

My dad reached out first, as he usually did.  He doesn't hold the kind of iron grudge that my mom does.  We spoke briefly in text messages through November, and discussed meeting at a local mall to get our daughter's picture with Santa.  Sadly another Thanksgiving came and went without my parents at the table.  I am becoming more accustomed to that tradition since I began my family.  The next time we saw each other was for lunch outside the mall on the chosen day.  My dad seemed genuinely happy to see me, while my mom was down right frigid.  She would smile at my daughter with one side of her face and grimace at me with the other.  This is over a month later, mind you.  She has been holding this grudge for a month and a week. As the photo session came to a close, we asked my parents point blank if they would be attending our daughter's birthday the following weekend.  As if they had practiced it, they both looked away from us and did not answer the question.  We left, there was nothing more either party needed to say.

For our daughter's sake, my parents did make it to the party, and while a bit withdrawn, she wouldn't have known any better.  As before, my dad seemed himself, but my mom still couldn't look my direction without seeming pained.  I had seen this face many times in my youth, it meant I'd done something wrong and there was no repairing it.  This time though, my shield came back up in the form of my wife.  I was doing right by her, and at the end of the day when I closed my eyes, that's what mattered most. Pictures we took at the party will show, smiling faces, balloons and everyone having a good time.  My daughter won't know how her grandmother was feeling toward her daddy that day. 

The next opportunity we had to get together was our annual Christmas Eve sushi feast at a local hibachi house.  For the 1st time in years, my parents were not at the table.  This is verging on 3 months after our initial argument.  3 MONTHS! Who can let anger fester for that long?  Clearly I know the answer now.  While all this had been going on I was attending my weekly men's accountability group at church, and it seemed I had more bad news to deliver on this subject each time.  My brothers always offered comfort or advice whenever they could, but ultimately time was the only thing to right the situation.  Nothing I did or said would have an effect now

After New Years something changed, I gave up the fight. I stopped caring about right and wrong, and realized I just missed my parents.  I prayed hard and forgave them their behavior over the past 3 1/2 months. I lifted up their names in group prayer each week, and asked God to show them their way back to my family.  It took time, but my conversations with my dad became longer, and one day he came out and asked if mom and he could watch their granddaughter for a weekend.  He asked my permission!  I was shocked, but agreed.  It seemed they missed her as much as I missed them.  After that, we reached a new arrangement where our daughter spends the 3rd weekend of the month with them.  My parents have resumed their role in our lives and last night, for the 1st time since October 3rd, 2013, my mom said she loved me.

Easter week blog off - Part 4

Today's topic, what burden did you turn over to God? What cross did you shoulder that God relieved you of?  As human beings we are wired to give in to temptations, that's why they're called temptations.  Everyone has their guilty pleasure, their vice, and in some cases their full blown sin.

Love of money = Greed
Love of food = Gluttony
Love of the flesh = Lust

Now when I use the word "love" I mean to the level of an idol.  Putting money, food, or flesh before God is a sin.  I wrestle with all 3 of these in some capacity and pray over at least 2 of them nightly.  I won't say that I put money before God, but it makes up the majority of my daily stress and worry.  Where is it going? Do we have enough of it? Will we have enough next week?  Are we spending wisely? Are we saving enough, or at all?  At any random time of the day one of these questions is always on my mind.  Why?  On 3 separate occasions in the past month, I have been on the verge of panic over our finances and all 3 times we came out with exactly what we needed, no more and no less.  Right on the money, if you'll pardon the pun.  Now you might say I lucked out, and maybe I did, but luck and grace hang out real close to each other in my experience.

I love food, as anyone who knows me will attest.  I revel in the challenge of cooking every single day.  You don't tip the scales at 220 lbs by relying on peanut butter sandwiches and Jello, let me tell you.  I wouldn't say that I regard food more than God, though I know I eat too much.  I recognize that what I have, "my daily bread" even, is from Him who loves me.  I also know my skill and passion for cooking is from Him as well.  I am thankful for both of these things daily, and have never viewed food as an idol.

Now for that 3rd one, lust of the eyes, and lust of the flesh.  I have tripped into this bear trap countless times. This October I will be married to my wife for 7 years.  I love her and would do anything and everything to make her happy until my last sunset.  Society and media on the other hand, use scantily clad women to try to sell me everything from cars to double bacon cheeseburgers.  Since middle school I have been hooked on porn.  It was free, easily accessible, and doesn't hurt anyone.  How is this a bad thing?  It skewed my impression of what a woman is supposed to be, that's how!  Real world women and porn star women are two roads that will never cross. I allowed myself to be brainwashed into thinking real women are willing and able to reenact "Debbie Does Dallas: 500" at a moments notice.  This is wrong.

The longer I was married, the more the truth of the matter became apparent.  Page 218 of the Kamasutra (you know, the position that calls for a rope swing and peach preserves) was not in my future.  But why not?  I had a wife now, that's the best part of being married, isn't it?  This confused my brainwashed self, and led me back to porn.  I rationalized that if marriage didn't equal my getting what I had seen in pictures for the past 10 years, the pictures were still there, they were still free, and my imagination could fill in the blanks.  At the end of the day, I didn't love my wife any less, and I would still do anything to make her happy. As far as I was concerned everybody came out on top.

Remember that selfless gift that lives in my dresser drawer?  There are dozens of references to the "reward" awaiting those with any hint of sexual immorality in their lives.  I seem to recall something about being grouped with the murders, rapist and liars for judgement, followed by a leisurely dip in a lake of fire and endless torment.  GET ME OFF THAT LIST!  I came before God in evening prayer, and admitted in a loud proud voice (inside my head at least)  I love boobs!  You made billions of them and they are great, but you only made 2 of them for me. They belong to my wife, and I love her the most.  WHAM!  My cross dropped.  I owned up to the most powerful and controlling, burden of my life and turned it over to God.  He loves me, I trust Him, and nothing can control me if He doesn't give it permission.  I'll bet a whole pile of money that porn doesn't ask permission.

Since then it has been a conscious effort to not allow myself into situations where temptation will be found.  That is to say I stopped looking for it, but it still looks for me.  What is different now, you wonder?  How do I avoid my former favorite bear trap?  I wake up every morning with the same two thoughts:  1) I will be tempted today  2) My armor is shining and I will keep it that way.

Easter week blog off - Part 3

Today's topic, recall a time when a friend betrayed or denied you, as in Judas or Peter's case.  I have been wracking my brain since Monday over this one.  I cannot think of ever being denied by any of my friends.  If I use Peter's example, there was never a point when I learned that someone I trusted renounced our friendship, or said they didn't know me when asked. As for betrayal, I have a few to choose from.

Lets go back to October 2012.  Every October I take part in a month long haunted farm attraction with friends and family. It runs 3 to 4 nights a week, 4 to 6 hours a night.  In that time, I immersed in a realm of drama fit for daytime television.  Now this story happened after a night chocked full of haunting goodness.  We always gather around what's left of our bonfires and swap stories of this group or that group that we scared superbly. Its a good way to unwind, because believe it or not, being scary can be stressful. 

So there I was, sitting on my piece of log, when I heard what sounded like a joke from one of my best friends directed at my sister in law.   Now to be clear, my sister in law is the target of a great many jokes. Is it right? No. Does she make it too darn easy? Yes.  That said, I did a double take, because my brain didn't want to believe what my ears had just heard.  The "joke" was more of a verbal cheap shot at my sister in law's disability. She has trouble with her hand due to a stroke she had as a baby, and one of my best friends had just made light of it.  Thinking back, I'd liken it to handing a slice of cake to someone on a diet, or telling a blind person, "Oh, if you could have seen what I just did" To the speaker it might have been in jest, but anyone in earshot would disagree.  I remember thinking "I did not just hear...He didn't say that.  Yes, he did. Damn it" The wise man knows, there are some things you do not joke about and what I had just heard is on the list.

Its an unusual sensation, being betrayed by someone you would stop a bullet for.  At the time all I could utter was "Dude, really?" I think I was in a state of shock that someone I consider family would verbally attack someone else I consider family.  Jokingly or not this was bad form all the way around. I think I heard my sister in law's feeling of self worth break a little bit.  How to respond to this?  I'm still trying to disbelieve what has just transpired.  I can't deck my best friend across the jaw, but how can I let my sister in law go undefended?  A short while later, she, my wife and I were loaded up and heading home. We sat in silence, our feelings already aired before we even left the gravel lot.  I had experienced betrayal and I had no idea what to do about it.

Easter week blog off - Part 2

Today's topic, a time where you were so lost that prayer was all you could manage, as when Jesus prayed in the garden before being betrayed by his disciples.

I suspect the stock answer to this question should involve the death of a loved one or other comparable personal tragedy, but in my case, all the death I have experienced in my lifetime came before I considered prayer a viable option.  While I was taught to pray for those I loved as a child, the older I got the less of a habit it became until finally prayer left my routine altogether.  It just didn't feel necessary to me.  What do my thoughts matter in the grand scope of the world.  A grain of sand on an endless beach, perhaps?  I'd wager even less than that. 

Fast forward to Christmas 2011 and a promise I made to my wife to give church and religion an honest, open minded shot.  Fast forward again, a year later when I stood before my congregation, new friends and family and proclaimed myself a believer.  Now prayers mattered to me.  God mattered to me, and that assured me he was listening.  Fast forward to now.  I feel I can hold a wide open conversation with my Lord about anything that's on my heart; good, bad, weird, or embarrassing doesn't matter.  He loves me, and as long as I honor him he's listening.

Now, when was I so far off the reservation that all I could draw on was prayer? The 1st week of August 2013.  Days earlier I had been in a T- bone car accident. My Jeep Cherokee had been the hammer, and a pale blue Dodge Neon, the anvil.  My 7 month old daughter was riding in the back seat, and while we had walked away without a scratch, both vehicles were bound for the compactor.  Big deal you might think, at least you were safe.  You can always replace things, right?  Sure you can, but when you lose things, a bit of you goes with them.  I had bought my Jeep just prior to high school graduation in May 2003.  Do the math, and my ride was a decade under my command.  How long have you had yours?  I had repaired it, changed its oil, tires, O2 sensor, and headlights, with my bare hands.  It carried scrapes, scratches, and dings from all the adventures it had taken me on across 5 states. I felt more comfortable in the driver's seat than I do in my bed. The interior smelled of mulch, flowers, stone and sweat, and I loved it.  That Jeep was my transportation, my armor, and an extension of my own personality.  I called her Mags, and on the last Thursday of July 2013, I stood by and watched her die at the entrance to a retirement village after saving mine and my baby's life.  With that image in your mind, tell me again how you can always replace things.   Mags was not a thing, she was a friend.

A week later I was driving home from Sunday night dinner in a borrowed Toyota Camry.  Nothing felt right, nothing smelled right.  I was a pilot without his ship, and I felt lost.  I began crying freely as the weight of the week's events crashed down on me.  I called to God for an explanation, for comfort, and for mercy. I thanked him for my life and my daughter's. I understood this was all part of His plan that I never get to see, and couldn't possibly comprehend. I asked for direction and opportunity to go forward with my life however he saw fit.  I was prepared to give all control over to him.  Free will be damned!  It took 22 minutes to get from my in laws' driveway to my own, and I rose out of the uncomfortable and unfamiliar Camry feeling somehow different.  The cathartic, ranting had left me exhausted in all sense of the word, but the stress and apprehension I'd been carrying were almost non existent.  God was listening and he took my fear from me that night.  I gave my control and trust to Him, and He answered with comfort and mercy.  I slept better on August 4th than I had in days.

Easter week blog off

In honor of Easter I have accepted a challenge to post daily bible inspired anecdotes related to aspects of Jesus' last week.  Today's topic, the selfless gift, as in when Mary anointed Jesus with perfume.

I once attended a Baptist summer retreat in middle school that turned me from God.  I wanted nothing to do with Him or anyone who believed in Him because some of the conversations I had while I was there, I flat refused to believe.  They were wrong, period, end of story, and close the book.  For a length of time, when questioned about my faith and beliefs, I would say I was agnostic.  I believed in a higher power, but I didn't know what to call it. During high school I experimented with various religions to try and find one that was the best fit for me.  I didn't like being agnostic.  It felt like I was a college kid with an undetermined major. I read up on Taoism, Buddhism, and Wicca. I said prayers to Zeus, and Odin.  I even prayed in the woods to the Green Man one time.  Go ahead, laugh if you like, this is kind of funny to recall.  For the remainder of high school I never pinned down what religion I belonged to.  Nothing ever had the right fit, and when it comes to faith "close enough" isn't.      

During my sophomore year of high school I met a guy named Brian.  We started talking video games before business principles class one day, and that was that. We've been good friends for the past 9 years.  One afternoon, well along in our friendship, we were preparing to go to the gym, and out of nowhere Brian presented me with a rectangular box.  "Here, I got you something," he said. I pulled off the lid to reveal a plain tan/red cover with the words Holy Bible in script across the front.  I regarded my friend for a minute.  We had talked religion before, he knew my story about the long ago summer camp that ruined God for me.  He smiled, clapped me on the shoulder and said "I know this isn't your thing Chase, but maybe one day." A simple gift of a bible, but no long winded speech or attempts to bring me to the light.  We went to the gym, our relationship unchanged...or was it?

For years, that bible lived in my top dresser drawer.  I saw it regularly, and could clearly recall. "I know this isn't your thing" every single time.  Life happened, as it does, and I found myself with a wife, sitting in church. I met a man there named Don and as a result of our 1st conversation, I was handed a challenge to read the whole Bible over the course of a year.  I went to my dresser drawer with a purpose.  A year passed and I turned page after page, reading verse after verse.  Then just before New Year's I ran out of pages and was looking at the back cover.  I picked up my cell phone and called Brian.  We exchanged our usual banter for a minute, then I stopped him and said, "Hey Brian, guess what's my thing now?"