Hurry Up & Wait...

Hurry up and wait is a phrase heard in sports, business, family life, fishing, and many other areas. It's one of those cliches that's easy to tell someone, but it's hard to put into practice.

My high school basketball coach was the first person to say this to me, and it confused me. He would also tell us to "be quick, but don't hurry". It felt like conflicting messages. He would compound these messages by telling us to "let the game come to us". 

I wanted to get out on the floor, run the ball up and down the court, and play the game. I had a hard time learning to ease off the gas pedal during the game, but that's what the coach would tell us. "Let me call off the dogs." It was up to us to play as well as we could at the fastest pace that we could. His job was to temper the pace of the game, as he saw fit. I wanted to force the game, but he was trying to teach us to find our place in the game. Eventually, I would learn what he meant by all of these phrases.

I also heard similar words at work. However...believe it or not...the words were even more thinly veiled than my basketball coach's. Sometimes it seemed like my bosses didn't really know what was going on, or what the plan was...so, they would just give me something to do to keep me busy.

Throughout my professional career I would have to wait on things...other employees to complete their part of the project, the organization to get to a better point for me to help it, waiting on deadlines to arrive for me to do my part (procrastination...ahem), project submission then waiting to learn the fate of the submission. It was never easy, but it gets easier with practice.

Life would teach me the meaning of these words....Adam....just wait!

The lesson is patience, but I guess that there are better ways to say it. Although, sometimes I would prefer to be told to be patient, rather than being kept in the dark about plans or what's actually happening in vague terms.

Now, Katy and I are hurrying up and waiting for the next big moment in our lives. As I write this, there are 10 days between now and our baby's due date, June 5th.

I really want her to get here. I really want her to wait a little while for us to finish getting ready...Ha! Yeah right....ready! We've been waiting for 38+ weeks! What's a few more days?

It seems like forever, but I know that it's not. Once she gets here, I'll probably want time to slow down. I know, I know....I want my cake and to eat it too. Can you blame me? We've prepared the nursery, received many wonderful gifts from our loved ones, and we even received a certificate of completion from our childbirth education class. So we're ready...HA! Ready! Yeah right!

But it feels weird. We know that she's on the way. There's a clock on the wall that's counting down, but I can't see it. I don't know how many days, hours, minutes, and seconds are left to 0, but I feel it. It's getting closer, but at the same time, it feels so far away.

I guess we'll hurry up and wait.

When I Grow Up, I Will Eat Sweets Every Day...

Today is my thirtieth birthday eve-eve.  Just because being thirty-seven weeks pregnant isn't enough, I thought I'd throw in an arguably monumental birthday three weeks before the due date and one week before the end of this particular school year.  That's just how I roll right now.  Nostalgia, melancholia, excitement, nervousness, anticipation, growing up...all these things are vying for my attention and emotions right now.  The winner varies from moment to moment.

I can honestly say that "thirty" in all it's glory hasn't hit me yet; I haven't had much time to dwell on that approaching milestone since we've been all consumed with comparing our growing little girl to different fruits/vegetables to determine how "grown-up" she is already, before even experiencing her first breath.  Bless her heart, even in utero, she doesn't have much privacy.

Most of you that know me (and at this point, after all of my ramblings, I'm assuming that it's only you that know me who are my faithful readers) realize that I absolutely adore special occasions.  All of them; holidays, semi-"holidays" (Arbor Day, May the Fourth Be With You, Left Handers Day, etc. included), birthdays, anniversaries, everything, whether they're mine or anyone else's.  That's partly why I love sending cards to people to commemorate such occasions.  I love celebrating; I love letting people know that I remember their special days; I love marking each occasion.

One of the reasons that it all means so much to me is that these "special" days are how we mark our lives.  Yes, each day is just as valuable as any other in it's own way, as movies like "About Time" (don't be fooled by the time traveling semi-randomness; it's a great movie and also a bit of a tear-jerker) remind us.  It's the idea of marking the "days of our lives" by these occasions that's so important to me.

I do love my birthday...but I'm claiming, whether you believe me or not, that it's because of the idea of using it as time to both look back and look forward.  People rolls their eyes and laugh at my birthday countdowns; it's been birthday month and now birthday week; but, it's just in fun.  It isn't about presents or attention.  My birthday is the only "holiday," albeit a self-centered one, that allows me to embrace nostalgia in relation to just my own life.  We measure family and friend growth, changes, everything by the holidays and special events in that collective life.  Our birthdays seem to me to be self-reflective.

These decade birthdays seem to bring on more of this than the years in between.  It's the end of an era...and also the beginning of one.  There are beautiful and poignant quotes that do seem truthful about this stage of life...

“It is in the twenties that the actual momentum of life begins to slacken, and it is a simple soul indeed to whom as many things are as significant and meaningful at thirty as at ten years before. At thirty an organ-grinder is a more or less a moth eaten man who grinds an organ - and once he was an organ-grinder! The unmistakable stigma of humanity touches all those impersonal and beautiful things that only youth ever grasps in their impersonal glory.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and the Damned

"Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others." - Virginia Woolf

Right now, I'll both acknowledge the truth of the above quotes, but fight against them.  I can't say that my outlook on life is the same as it was at twenty.  Twenty-year-old Katy was different than twenty-nine-and-363 day old Katy, but that is as it should be.

My twenties were awesome, by the way.  When I turned twenty, I had just returned from a semester abroad.  Over the course of the next ten years, I finished college, had a medical scare, traveled more, graduated from college, got my masters' degree, spent quite a few summers with Passport, lived in three apartments, moved to Nashville, met Adam, fell in love, found Scout, got married, have gotten through two and more than a half trimesters of my first pregnancy, and did/learned/experienced/lost/found many things and people along the way.  It's hard to believe.  The last ten years haven't been all rainbows and butterflies, but I am grateful for the experiences, the mountain-tops, the valleys, the friendships, the broken hearts, the joy, and the growth that have come from it all.  I can't resist, embrace the cheesiness with me, it's all been "something unpredictable, but in the end is right."

So, that was then and this is now.  At thirty, I can look back and use those experiences to say what I want out of the next decade.  Never fear, I won't break into a Tim McGraw song, but I will say that Ben Folds was right when he said "it hurts to grow up and we're still fighting it."  I'm still fighting it.  I will never be too old to play, to swing, to watch Disney movies, to laugh at nothing, to love being high up, to crave adventure, to be surprised, to surprise, to try new things, to take chances, to revel in moments, to see the best in people.

There is adventure left out there...and not just for the next "generation" of twenty-somethings...for me.  I am not giving up on it.  During my twenties, I spent a great deal of time dreaming; making plans or wishing for things I could do, things I can be.  I'm not giving up on those dreams.  Now is the time to make them happen.  I don't know exactly what that looks like.  I am confident though that thirty-nine-and-363-day-old Katy will be able to look back and say my thirties were awesome.

I haven't done everything that twenty, or fifteen, or ten, or even twenty five year old Katy hoped I would before I turned thirty; honestly, I haven't done anything close to what I hoped.  I'm not sure anyone ever truly does.  I haven't travelled nearly as much as I would have liked; I haven't written the great American novel, I haven't even written a terrible American novel; I haven't bought a house or found where I want to "settle down"; my "I haven'ts" could go on and on. However, that doesn't mean it's over.  I refuse to look at this birthday as an end instead of a beginning.  I love my birthday and will continue to do so.  I already had my twenty-ninth birthday and it will be my one and only "twenty-ninth" birthday.

Bring on everything that comes next; parenthood, new moves, new jobs, career changes, more school, other kids, travels, accomplishments, failures, who knows what?  Bring on 30!

"Just" A Dog

Peter Llewelyn Davies: This is absurd. It's just a dog.

J.M. Barrie: Just a dog? *Just*?

[to Porthos]

J.M. Barrie: Porthos, don't listen!

[to Peter]

J.M. Barrie: Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he's *just* a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man", or "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock." Just.

         -Finding Neverland

Each time I watch the movie, "Finding Neverland," I am struck by this exchange between the characters of J.M. Barrie and Peter.  I love the way that he discounts the word "just," and because Porthos is the subject in question, it also reminds me of my Scout.

Scout has been a part of our family for nearly four years now.  She was a part of the family before Adam and I were even engaged.  She loves her bed, loves to cuddle, loves going on walks especially when both of us take her, knows a few tricks, and is always there to welcome us home.  Here are ten random fun facts about Scout.

1. Scout is named after the character of Scout in Harper Lee's book, "To Kill a Mockingbird."  That's why she is a girl named Scout...even in spite of the fact that all people who meet her assume she is a boy.

2. Scout is a "Tennessee Brown Dog."  She's a rescue dog and we aren't quite sure what kind of dog/dogs make up her heritage.  Therefore, she is a brown dog and is from Tennessee, a.k.a. Tennessee brown dog.

3. Scout howls.  Mostly, on the command "Smokey."  That shows that she is also, in fact, a UT fan.  The very first day I had her she howled at an ambulance.  She didn't bark for nearly a year, but she howled almost immediately.

4. Scout is a recovering separation anxiety rescue dog.  When I first got her, I couldn't leave the room without her panicking.  We've come incredibly far with it and now, most of the time, you'd never know.

5. Scout loves monkey grass.  Seriously, she will seek it out to do her business.  It's hard to keep her from exploring every single bit of it we come in contact with in our apartment complex.  If you've seen our complex, you know how much monkey grass we pass during each walk.

6. Scout has a dog nemesis.  She's fairly hypocritical in her choice; it's a brown dog that's our neighbor.  I don't know why or how they became nemeses, but it happened.  If we see that dog coming, we go the other way.  She gets extremely upset, complete with barking and "raptor fur"...which brings me to #7...

7. Scout gets what we lovingly refer to as "Raptor fur" whenever she feels any emotion strongly; excitement, happiness, anger, protectiveness.  It's a bit of a turn off for people who don't know her, but it doesn't mean she's upset or going to be mean.  Raptor fur is when the fur just along her spine stands on edge.  

8. When Scout is very happy, she gets circle tail.  She wags her tail in a complete circle until she calms down. It's her third stage of excitement, but doesn't take all that much because Scout loves all people and wants to be their best friend, preferably with no personal space.

9.  Scout can make some interesting choices.  When we go in a new place, she needs to be shown where she can go.  Sometimes, when she eats, she eats all of one color kibble before starting on the other color.  She lays by her bowl with her head touching it for at least a few minutes before she starts to eat, every time.  She has licked the wall...for no reason.  She attempts to roll in deer business, and anything else that has a less than desirable smell.  She barks at inanimate objects, but only when they're outside, like a snowman or frisbee.  She doesn't love interruptions to her routine.  After eating, she always, always rubs her face in the carpet, no matter what she ate and in spite of the fact that she doesn't get anything on her face.

10. Scout has become protective during my pregnancy.  The dog who rarely ever barked, especially not at people, has decided that she likes to let me know whenever people are near our door and stays right by my side.  Scout may be a dog, but she knows exactly what's going on and is doing her best to keep me safe while I do my best to keep the baby safe.

So, there you go, 10 things about Scout, in the style of "Because of Winn-Dixie."  I know that she is a dog.  I won't shame J.M. Barrie and use the word "just" in that sentence, but I do know that she is a dog.  However, she is a dog to whom I am very attached.  Life is about to change for me, for Adam, for Scout, and for everyone else in our lives, what with our new addition's arrival in the coming weeks.  Scout may or may not have a rough time with accepting the baby; either way, she'll have to adjust her routine and that isn't easy for her (see #9).  I'm going in to this situation with my eyes open.  It's not going to be easy to bring a baby home to a one-bedroom apartment, especially one with a dog.  

Near the beginning of my pregnancy, lots of people told me we'd have to get rid of Scout.  At this point, I disagree.  If things change, they change, but right now I have faith in her and we continue to love her.  I was once told something that has stuck with me throughout the pregnancy; I have enough love to go around.  That's the amazing thing about new people, things, and experiences that we bring into our lives; they don't take away from what's already there.  There is more than enough love to go around.  

Channeling an Inner Ted Mosby

Again, those of you who have children may shake your head at me or laugh thinking about how much I have to learn in the next six and a half weeks before baby girl makes her arrival, but right now, it sometimes feels like everything Adam and I do has to do with the baby.  When we're home we're working on things to prepare for her and when we're out, we're usually doing something that's somehow related to her arrival.  No worries; we are loving it!  However, this is a story of something that actually doesn't have to do with baby...well, not completely.

Yesterday, Adam and I had the opportunity to take maternity photos.  This was not an activity that I picked out or honestly, to which I was even looking forward.  However, we got the sitting and the digital prints as a baby shower gift and it was undeniably too good to pass up.  So, I pretended that I wasn't like other pregnant women; I'm not too self-conscious, I said, it doesn't matter to me exactly what I look like at 33 weeks pregnant.  Sure, we'll take some photos!  It's a new time in our lives and one that should be commemorated!

You can ask Adam how well and how long that mindset lasted...it was about until I started picking out clothes for our photos.  Thankfully for me, that isn't the point of this post, and so, we'll skip over my whining during that whole process and go right to the photo shoot.

Yesterday was an overwhelmingly beautiful day here.  It was the perfect weather for an Easter weekend.  As an aside, let me throw in that I absolutely adore it when the weather is beautiful for Easter.  Easter is always beautiful in and of itself, but when the outdoors match our joy inside, it's even better.  Ok, forgive yet another tangent and I'll get back to the story.  So, we made the trek out to a rustic and gorgeous farm on the edge of Mt. Juliet.  This is a well run operation; there were quite a few other customers participating in various photo shoots and several photographers working with different clients all at once.  We met our photographer and got right down to the pictures.  She was wonderful about putting us at ease and giving us enough direction for the awkwardness to fade.  I even found myself enjoying it.  We took pictures in a couple different outfits and settings around the farm.

The first "round" went uneventfully.  We took pictures, smiled, and channeled out inner Derek Zoolander.  Then, we changed our outfits (I may not have been able to pick just one for the photo shoot) and started on round two.  At one point, during this set, the photographer set us up as though we were going on a picnic.  We sat on a blanket amidst candles and a wicker picnic basket, as the camera clicked.  The next direction came.  "Ok, now look in the basket and pretend you're getting out sandwiches or something."  I didn't think a thing about it.  Aware of the camera, I continued to smile.  I reached out to open the basket, with Adam at my elbow.  I opened the basket and discovered that instead on an empty prop, it contained something for me.

It was an envelope, that was labelled "My Katy" in Adam's handwriting.  My first thought was to assume that it was something the photographer used as a ploy to get real emotion.  Maybe she had him write a note to me or a joke or something to earn a true smile, one not just pasted on for the camera.  I opened the envelope, still out of the loop.  Inside was a very cute, simple greeting card.  As I opened the card, I realized that this gift was anything but simple.

I began reading and immediately noticed that the words were all lyrics...all from songs by the same band...my favorite band...Nickel Creek.  It was then that I allowed my eyes to drift to the other side of the card.  There were two tickets there, to a sold-out Nickel Creek show at the Ryman Auditorium...for last night.  All I could say was, "how did you do this?"  I may have continued saying that a few times....but I was floored and overwhelmed.  We had originally tried our very best to get tickets the day that they went on sale, but were thwarted by scalpers.  I had eventually pretended to get over my disappointment and tried to forget about the concert.  During the entirety of my tongue-tied wonderment, Adam had a huge smile on his face and the camera continued to click away.

He was absolutely thrilled that he had surprised me.  For some reason, I felt myself fighting back tears (we'll blame it on the hormones) and then was able to hear the rest of the story.  Adam had been able to find tickets a few days before and hatched this plan in coercion with our photographer in order to make it a huge surprise.  It definitely worked.  He had given me no hint and I was shocked.  It was wonderful!  I absolutely love surprises.

The rest of our photo shoot flew by and soon enough, we were on our way to the album tour that I, like many other Nickel Creek fans, had been waiting for for years.  They were amazing; exactly the same as they were eight or so years ago when I last saw them perform.  This particular concert may have jumped up to my top spot of all time.  The discomforts of being hugely pregnant weren't even able to distract me during the two hours while they played.  It was a romantic, beautiful, heartfelt surprise from a husband who was definitely channeling his inner Ted Mosby.  I couldn't be more thankful!  I know he'll appreciate that it was the perfect beginning to "birthday month" (I was told I have permission to call it that just this year since it's a big birthday).

MLB Opening Week

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time."

- "Field of Dreams": Adapted from Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella

The 2014 Major League Baseball season began this week, and a season of hope sprung for 30 franchises chasing the dream of playing a summer game on a cold October night for the World Series Championship.

This is the one sporting time of year that our house is divided...me being a St. Louis Cardinals fan and Katy being an Atlanta Braves fan. It helps our relationship that our teams play in different divisions, but it can make for a tricky week or 2 at points during the season, especially if our teams make the playoffs. Soon, we will have another member of our family...will she choose the Braves, the Cardinals, another team or no team at all?

As I write this, there are 156 games to go in this regular season.

I love baseball for many reasons: memories of St. Louis, keeping a scorecard, ice cream in mini-helmets, the smell of a grass field, the anticipation of action before a pitch, hot dogs, playing catch, the crack of a bat, statistics, family; but mainly I love it because perfection in baseball is borne out of struggle.

Consider this...the 20 best hitters in the history of a game that pre-dates the Civil War succeeded only in 1/3 of their plate appearances. In any other sport an average success rate near 30% passing, shooting or scoring would be unacceptable, at least, and cause for never playing the game again. However, hitting in baseball is arguably the most difficult feat in sport.

The history of the game is littered with stories of trial, error and ultimately success. Imagine playing your entire life as a pitcher, earning a roster sport on a major league team, earning an 11-7 record in your first full season, and following that up with one of the worst performances ever in baseball. This is the story of Rick Ankiel, but it doesn't end there. He would reform his career in baseball as an outfielder, and play for 6 more seasons in the big leagues.

The seasons come and go. Seasons have begun to leave indelible marks on my life as the seasons roll on. Fans fill ballparks and witness all of the outs until 1 champion is crowned.

Who knows what the 2014 season holds? Not me...but I know that I will watch it.

Rise and Shine

This is a devotion I wrote for a Lenten Devotional Series for church, Immanuel Baptist Church.

Rise & Shine & Give God the Glory, Glory

Today’s passage, Psalm 128, is subtitled “A Song of Ascents”.

The word, ascend, invokes happy thoughts of walking, rising, raising, and elevating.  However, we must remember; in order to ascend, we must rise up over something.

Jesus ascended several times in His final days on Earth. He ascended on the journey to the cross up the Via Dolorosa to Calvary. He ascended on the cross for our sins. Ultimately, He ascended into Heaven.

His ascensions would not have happened without descending. First He descended from Heaven to be with the people He loved on Earth to show them God’s love and the way to live. After His crucifixion, he descended into Hell to conquer death.

These two important factors show us the way to follow Jesus. We must labor with our hands and walk in the way. We must lift up others and allow our egos to descend. Jesus’ way was not easy, and the way in which we follow Him should not be easy. In order for us to be fruitful, wonderfully, and fearfully made creations, we must labor with our hands, feet and voices for the glory of God, not our own glory.  Then, and only then, will we raise up God’s will in our lives and our community.

It will not be easy, but it is most assuredly a happy way.  We know how this ends. We have the assurance of God’s everlasting love…”in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

We do not live in fear of God. We are simultaneously happy and fearful of our Lord who is Creator, Sustainer, Lover, Ruler, Healer and Conqueror.

The Easter story is a story of happiness borne out of selfless sacrifice.  Easter and Tony Compolo remind us that, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming.”

Three Men and a Baby

          Obviously, as you most likely already know and may be tired of hearing about at this point, we are gearing up for some major changes in the King household.  As you are all probably aware of at this point, we are doing our best to prepare for baby-to-be, in all the ways that are possible to prepare.  No, we aren’t naïve enough to think we’re actually prepared, so don’t roll your eyes at me quite yet.  Our pregnancy, the last twenty-seven weeks, have been a roller coaster.  I’m also not quite naïve enough to believe that we are different from other expectant parents in that, especially other first time parents.  We have, however, had our own set of ups and downs that does at least feel unique.

Since this past November, Adam and I have reluctantly become re-acquainted with the reality of loss.  Over the course of less than four months, we have lost three grandfathers between us.  In barely over three months, we’ve participated in three funerals in three different states.  In mid November, my paternal grandfather passed away; in late February, my maternal grandfather passed away; thirdly, only a week later, at the beginning of March, Adam’s maternal grandfather passed away.  

Each of these men individually made an impact on our lives, both separately and as a couple.  We, of course, had a different relationship with each one and the void that was left after each passing is still fresh in each place that they once filled.  I could go on for more words than you would care to read about how much my grandfathers meant to me, how much I learned from them, what I will miss, and how different each side of my family looks and feels knowing they are no longer with us.  I will do my best to keep it short and sweet, so bear with me.  

Throughout our tears and our grief, we’ve constantly reminded ourselves how lucky we are to know that each of these three men lived lives that were long and fulfilling.  While none of these passings were exactly expected, each of these men was prepared.  They were proud of what they had accomplished, had left legacies, and were confident about their next adventures.  Each had a strong and sure faith that reminded and taught those around them about the beliefs that they built their lives around.   I have no doubt that I will see my grandfathers again, that they are reunited with those that went before them, and that they are no longer enduring any pain or suffering.   I am more than thankful for that reassurance, for the knowledge that none of them suffered long near the end, and for the mark that was left in my life and in the world at large because of them.

My Granddad, my paternal grandfather, had a passion for learning and a thirst for knowledge that I have been lucky enough to emulate through my education and career.  He emphasized the importance of education with all of his family.  Granddad loved food, travel, sports, and people.  I have memories of looking at possibly thousands of pictures snapped by “Granddaddy Flashcubes,” of college banquets in his honor, of family vacations in so many places, of Christmas after Christmas morning celebrated at his house, of football games, and of laugh lines around his eyes.  He taught us about how valuable it is to be present and to find a happy medium.

My Papa, my maternal grandfather, left a legacy built on hard work, pride, and loyalty.  He never missed an opportunity to remind his family about his faith and about what he wished for us.  Papa loved the Braves, his family, and was so proud of his accomplishments in the military.  Through a long battle with ALS, Papa stood beside his wife and cared for her through that sickness, after long years of health.  My memories of him are dominated by things like making “stone soup,” an old Fisher-Price schoolhouse, playing with Dan, Christmas homilies delivered to a large and noisy family, reading books in a worn recliner, and naps taken in front of sports on TV.  Papa taught us the value of words and to never waste an opportunity.

If this were the time and place for it, know that I could go on and on about my Granddad and my Papa.  They are not the only two people to have such an impact on my life or even the only two family members to do so, but right now and for quite some time, their loss is sharply felt.

I only had the pleasure of knowing Adam’s Papa for about five years.  In that short time, I did get to know the man that had so much to do with who Adam has become.  His Papa was a man of strength and patience.  He was always glad to see us and never tired of talking to Adam.  His love for the Cardinals, his devotion to his wife, and his unwavering certainty about the future made an impact on me and have been unquestionably inherited by his youngest grandson.

All three of these men had many things in common; more than you would think by looking at their lives on paper.  All put family at the top of their priority lists, all had long and happy marriages that are an inspiring example to a couple going on their third year of marriage and all had a faith that cast out fear.

I can celebrate these three lives with an easy heart.  My mind wants to fight off that celebration and replace it with grief, but my heart knows that they have moved on to a forever home that dwarfs the pleasure I feel in my home on this earth.

At this point in our lives, Adam and I are struggling with grief.  We have fought wave after wave after wave of loss in a shorter time than we ever expected and at a time in our lives when we also have so much joy.  Somehow, our greatest source of grief is tied in with our greatest source of joy.  We are simply broken-hearted that our daughter will not be able to know our grandfathers.  We are more than grateful for the men that they were and what we learned from them; those small parts of them will be passed down to our daughter and she will know, as best she can, these men, but it will always be second hand.  That has been harder to accept than I anticipated.  Each one is deeply missed as an individual, but as a trio, the loss is nearly overwhelming.

In short, we are grateful for the lives that were lived, how lucky we are to have such families, and the profound impact made on our lives, but we do miss our grandfathers.  

“Preserve your memories, keep them well, for what you forget, you can never retell.”  -Louisa May Alcott

7 Years Ago The Oscars Aired, And...

The Oscars serve as a yearly reminder to me. Not because I love to celebrate and watch the Oscars, but because it reminds me of a defining moment in my life.

7 years ago, I was millimeters away from being paralyzed. I don't know what my life would've looked like had that happened. I am happy to know what it looks like now.

I made the terrible decision to embark on a night of drinking that would lead to drunk driving and a nearly fatal car accident. The memories which pierce the haze of that night are still with me today. Scars remind me everyday of the brilliant doctors who had a part in enabling me to be who and where I am today.

A few weeks ago, my Sunday School teacher asked, "Are there any failures in your life that you celebrate?" I gave a hearty chortle, and proceeded to talk about my car accident for the umteenth time in that group.

I've pondered that question several times since it was asked. I have the same answer every time that I think about it. Yes, I do celebrate this. Yes, I do think that it's a failure. Yes, I am thankful for it. Yes, it molded me. Yes, I think about it often, usually daily. It brings a myriad of emotions to mind, but I think that mostly I am thankful for it.

Recently, I've thought about the wreck in this vein of thought. What will I tell my daughter about the biggest failure in my life?

First, I will share my failures with her. I want her to know my failures and successes. I don't want her to know some whitewashed version of my life. I am who I am today, because of the successes and failures. Also, I will remind her that even daddy makes mistakes, and will be quick to apologize and try to live without ego.

Second, I will share the importance of decision making and that choices have consequences. It's easy to make choices, but it's difficult to make the right choice all of the time. I made bad choices in many areas of my life at the time, and I will make some bad choices throughout life. However, I have and will continue to learn from them with the hopes of not making the same mistakes.

Third, I will share in her failures and be with her on her life journey. She will know that I am always available to her.

Finally, I will share with her the love that I experienced from family and friends in a great time of need. She will never go a day without it.

These are some of the things that the wreck has taught me this past year. I hope that you know that you are loved and are not alone.

I Confess....

That I am totally, utterly, completely, 100% sucked in to the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

It happens every 4 years, and it shouldn't surprise me...but it did. Going into this year's Olympics, I figured that I'd just pay close attention to the men's hockey tournament, but oh was I wrong about myself! I found myself engrossed from the very beginning, including the amazing opening ceremonies' interpretation of 1000 years of Russian history.

I'm just amazed at the dedication that Olympic athletes exhibit, even more than the athleticism on display. The commitment made by Olympians to compete at the pinnacle of their sport once every four years is admirable...to say that it impresses me is an understatement. They train and sacrifice time, money, and relationships (arguably). I'm not sure that I'd be willing to do some of these things in order to compete in the Olympics.

I loved watching a 40 year old Norwegian destroy his competition in the 10k bi-athlon.

I'm probably going to stay up late tonight to watch the 15k bi-athlon tonight....thanks bank holidays!

I was up at 6:00am this past Saturday to watch Team USA's men's hockey team play the Russians in one of the most exciting hockey games that I've seen. Katy was a big fan of my choice of a Saturday morning alarm...ha!

I've become very familiar with the Pampers (good timing for diaper purchases for us!), Coca-Cola, Home Depot, McDonald's, and other various commercials that air regularly on broadcasts.

I'm hopelessly addicted to watching curling. This may be due to the fact that it seems simple enough that I think I could compete at an Olympic level curling...very unlikely. Also, it's one of the few events that Team USA is a decided underdog. We're 2-7 as I write this.  The Swedish and Canadian teams are very impressive.

I'm intrigued by the fact that Team USA's bobsled has been redesigned by a BMW engineer, and has been a closely guarded secret.

The Olympics may generally be a good thing for economies in their locations, but they also tend to open parts of the world that may not normally be open to the international community...such is the case with Sochi, Russia.  There are stories of human rights issues, animal cruelty, and bribery in these Olympics. History will be the judge of the effect of the Olympics on Sochi and Russia in a broader sense.

Then there's the 60 degree temperatures, Bob Costas's grotesque eye issue, Vladimir Putin's selfie with Canadian athlete, and a myriad of other content and character stories designed to draw me further in to the 2014 Sochi games...like a really need that!

One more week to go, and it will be full of news, events, heartbreak, triumph and late nights & early mornings...ski jumping, nordic combine, medal rounds of hockey, and women's singles figure skating just to name a few. Katy will be glad for me to quit chanting Rus-si-a! I kinda like their chant.  Maybe we'll get some good name ideas for our baby girl inspired by an Olympian

So.....I confess....I'm addicted to the Olympics!

Strollers and Onesies and Bottles...Oh My.

This weekend we conquered, or at least started the process of conquering, our baby registry.  Getting that started has been on the top of our baby list for the last couple of weeks.  Don't get me wrong, registering for anything is so much fun!  This particular registry just required more research and more preparation that I would have ever anticipated.

Adam has spent weeks doing online research in an attempt to figure out all of the safety recommendations, the different types of products, and what we can even fit in our apartment.  I compiled quite a few "must-have" registry lists into one five page list to try to keep us from missing things that we need.  It also turned into googling items that I have never heard of and had (or have) no idea what purpose they serve.  While we would never ask our friends and family to buy us present at all and do not expect or want people to go overboard, the registry is helping us to organize.  We now have a better grasp of what is a necessity, what people suggest, and what is a luxury when it comes to taking care of a baby.

If you haven't had the opportunity to register for anything in your life, I would recommend that you do it!  It is so much fun, no matter what the occasion!  On your next birthday or celebration or Tuesday, go to your favorite store and ask them to register.  They give you a little zappy scanner gun and you can go to town.  Rather than being overwhelmed, you'll most likely find yourself zapping everything in sight that looks fun or handy or different.  Do it.

This time around, for our first child, Adam and I decided to register at Target, Babies-R-Us, and Pottery Barn Kids.  Target and Babies-R-Us are the two main registries, while Pottery Barn only has a few of the luxury items that we liked.  We started at Babies-R-Us on Saturday morning.  When we first arrived, there was no one else there.  We got the prime Expectant Mother parking (an awesome perk of pregnancy) and sat down with an associate to begin our registry.   Our best move of the entire experience was starting fairly early in the morning.  The longer we were there, the more couples came in to join us.  As we walked down the aisles, we overheard more and more arguments over strollers or outfits or bedding than I expected.  With the sheer volume of stuff, I should have been more prepared.  We tackled our glider first, then knocked off the other bigger items that we planned on choosing from Babies-R-Us.  That made it much easier to enjoy zapping all of the smaller things, once the bigger things were off our backs.  There's no way to know what type of product our little girl will prefer, so we tried to get a variety of things.  After nearly two hours, we had to take a break for lunch and so, we took a quick Chick-Fil-A break, then headed back to finish up.  One more hour at Babies-R-Us, and we came to the realization that we had done the best we could and would have to do whatever was left online.  Thank goodness for the internet!  We can updated and change anything on any registry at any time from home.

On Sunday, we hit both Pottery Barn Kids and Target.  The experience was fairly similar at both of these places.  However, Pottery Barn Kids has a much larger selection online than they do in store.  So, basically, while we were there, we started the registry and left the store with a list of things we would have to add online.  Our Target trip was to fill in the holes of the things we hadn't registered for at Babies-R-Us or Pottery Barn; and to register for those things we just wanted from Target.  Honestly, I don't know what we did in life before Target.

Those of you who have kids will laugh at me after I admit to this, but maybe those of you who don't will share in my surprise; I had no idea how much paraphernalia that one little baby needs.  You can't just get a crib sheet, you have to get several; three bottles won't do it, you need 4oz, 8oz, etc, etc; it goes on and on.  This was just the planning part.  We haven't actually gotten any of the stuff we need yet.  It's a blessing that pregnancy lasts for forty weeks; how else would we get all of it done?

It's been such an exciting weekend; things are started to happen.  We have made it to the fun part.  Instead of just biding our time between doctor's appointments, we have made it to the part where we get to start planning, making decisions, and putting it all together for our little girl.  We have seventeen weeks left; at some moments that feels like forever, at others, it feels unbelievably soon.  Right now, I think we have a good handle on what we should be working on right now.  Are we ready for her?  Not even close...but can you really ever be completely ready?

The Purge

This year, instead of spring cleaning (or possibly in addition to spring cleaning), Adam and I have gone through a material purge since New Years'.  Yes, part of it is by necessity.  Adam, Scout, and I live in a one bedroom apartment that does have an extra mini-room they market as an office.  Based on the tight living space, our purge has been imperative before we start acquiring what seems like an unbelievably overwhelming amount of baby paraphernalia.

Those of you that know me, know that I do have an organizational streak.  Some may even argue that it's more than just a streak.  So, the prospect of going through the entire apartment (daunting that it may have been) was not entirely unwelcome.  I systematically went through each room of our apartment.  We took more than a few trips to Goodwill to donate and sadly, almost as many trips to the dumpster.  I know that throwing things away can make baby Jesus cry, but not everything can be salvaged, repurposed, or donated.  Each time we identified something we could get rid of, it felt like a tiny weight was lifted.  Room by room, that feeling grew stronger.  

Then, I stepped back to look around.  At this point, we had devoted fragments of the entire month of January to this project.  I was feeling good, thinking we were making some headway.  As I looked around, I realized something.  If I hadn't know better, I wouldn't even be able to tell that we had purged ourselves of anything.  Our apartment is still cluttered and full; "lived in," could be an understatement.  Yes, we'd managed to empty out our small extra space in order to fill it up in the coming months with baby things and we cleaned out one of our very few kitchen cabinets to devote it to the same purpose.  So, perhaps it was worth it...at least I'll claim it as a success.  Right now, the purge had to happen and I was as ruthless as I could manage.  It was cleansing and provided the jumping off point that we needed for a fresh start with our growing family.  Honestly, I feel good about it as a whole.  I would recommend a purge to start any new stage in life or just whenever you feel weighted down.

The whole attempt has reminded me, however, that we have so much more than we need.  While we have our struggles, financial and otherwise, and it can feel like they deeper than those of our friends, we are incredibly lucky.  I am all too often guilty of coveting the things, the space, and the time that others appear to have in spades, while overlooking all that I have been given.  Take the time to do a purge of your own; separate out what you are willing to get rid of and then step back to see all that you have left.  Be thankful for each thing, but don't put too much value in the things.  Look past the cheesiness of my suggestions and embrace it!

It's a...

This is the story of the most recent way that our lives were changed, once again...

This past week, believe it or not, we reached the halfway point in this pregnancy.  In some ways, pregnancy seems to be chock full of decisions, more than it is consistently full of anything else.  Sure, pregnancy is also characterized by many other, somewhat less pleasant, symptoms, but right now at this particular moment, the decisions seem to be in considerable abundance, with no end in sight.  Our most recent success regarding this growing list of decisions happened this past Tuesday.

Over the past several months, we have been conflicted over whether or not to find out our baby's gender.  No one believes me when I say this, but it is honestly the truth; we had absolutely no preference as far as the baby's gender goes.  That's why it made it so difficult to decide.  The time to act on that decision came at our latest appointment, on Tuesday.  Because it was the appointment that included our 20 week ultrasound, Adam and I both had to take a little time off of work in the afternoon.  That way, we were able to leave for the appointment together.  Upon our arrival, we realized that we had the last appointments of the day with both our ultrasound tech and our doctor, so we had some time in the waiting room.  As always, we were given insights into our future while we waited; there were other families, of all shapes and sizes, including those farther along in their pregnancies and those who already have small children in tow.  Even in spite of the sense of anticipation that hangs over all waiting rooms, it's always interesting, and mostly entertaining, to watch the others waiting.  This particular day, my fellow waiting room occupants didn't disappoint.  Through their seemingly mundane and unremarkable strategies to get through their own time waiting, they unknowingly helped to calm my nerves and pass the time.  While I can't honestly say that the time flew, we did get through the time we were asked to wait and my name was called.

We followed the ultrasound tech back to the last room on the left and followed suit as she introduced herself.  Immediately following the introductions, I blurted out that we would like for her to write down the gender of the baby instead of telling us during the appointment.  She willingly complied and played along throughout the appointment, having us turn our heads away from the screen whenever there was even a slight possibility that our surprise might be spoiled.

I hate to shatter the illusion, but pregnancy so far has not exactly matched up with what is shown in the movies.  I'm not sure I glow, have avoided gaining weight in areas other than my lower abdomen, or have been as ladylike about the symptoms as the women that so angelically depict pregnancy on the big screen.  However, overall, the experience of the ultrasound actually did seem to be like it is in the movies.  The gel, the black and white screen, and the semi-dark room were all exactly what I anticipated.  I did not anticipate how emotional it would be that the black and white pictures were of our baby.  Immediately, there it was; moving around, healthy (as far as they can tell).  Yes, we had seen the baby at our very first appointment on an ultrasound, but at that point, it resembled more of a bean of some sort than a baby.  This time, undeniably, it is a baby.  The ultrasound tech spent at least thirty minutes taking different measurements, looking at different angles, and throughout the entire time, she narrated what she was seeing.  We took a tour around our baby; we saw feet, arms, hands, a face, a beating heart, kidneys, the lenses of the eyes, and the parts of the brain.  Unbelievable!  It's hard to even describe the amazement and excitement each time we were introduced to a new angle or discovered something new.  Adam continually commented on the craziness of it all, while he oohed and ahhed at all of the new views. We were both amazed at how much had happened in the 12 weeks since the baby was about the size of a kidney bean.

There were a few moments during which the ultrasound tech was forced to take a different approach in order to be able to see certain things.  The conclusion was reached that baby is doing very well and there is nothing at all to worry about at this point!

I know everyone says this, but the baby was being adorable.  The hands were consistently moving, at times crossed in front of the face and waving at us or blocking our ability to see the face.  The legs crossed and uncrossed.  It was hard not to imagine a personality to go hand in hand with these images.  As the ultrasound continued, we realized just how difficult it would be to have seen all of this and not open that enticing envelope containing the gender.  We were overwhelmed by the desire to learn as much as we could about this new little person, our child.

As the ultrasound appointment drew to a close, we were given a printed picture, a CD containing several pictures as well as a video of the baby's heart, and the sealed envelope containing the gender.  We walked out to the next waiting room, arguing good-naturedly about who would hold our ultrasound souvenirs.  We waited as the waiting room around us slowly emptied.  We closed down the doctor's office that day.  Both of us tried to read as we waited and both of us were constantly drawn back to staring at our baby's new picture.  Our hearts had already been melted from the beginning, but this was a new level of love.  One that brought us even closer to the level of love that we can't even foresee before the birth of our child.

Eventually, we were startled out of our reverie and called back to see the doctor.  That particular day, the doctor that I usually see had a family emergency and so, we saw a different doctor.  This was originally a source of anxiety for me, but that anxiety was unfounded.  The doctor was extremely helpful, patient with our questions, and just as friendly as my regular doctor.  In the end, seeing someone different was a good idea, just in case someone else in the medical group ends up being there at the actual birth.  This doctor's visit was comfortably ordinary, as far as the last few months go, with the exception of the ultrasound.  The doctor did go over the radiologist's report which was also thankfully, mostly uneventful.  After the doctor finished, we left the office.

It was extremely cold outside that day (one of the cold days this winter, as opposed to the whiplash giving warm days interspersed between polar vortexes).  As has become our tradition, we sat in the car in the parking lot of the doctor's office and called both sets of our parents to share the news that things are going well and baby seems to be healthy.  Then, we shared our plan to find out the gender.  Yep, we had a plan.  It did not involve waiting much longer to open that sealed envelope.

Our next stop was Maggiano's.  We walked in and requested a booth.  With giant smiles plastered on our faces, we blurted out to the waitress our plan; open the envelope at dinner and celebrate!  We tried our best, but the longest we could wait was immediately after we ordered dinner.  With one last look at the ultrasound picture and one more reassurance to each other that we honestly had no idea whether it was a boy or girl, we brought out the envelope.  Adam opened the envelope and I pulled out the piece of paper.  The ultrasound tech had folder the paper into fourths, so there was absolutely no way we could see the gender through the envelope.  So, I had to unfold the paper.  As the tension built, my heart pounded, and Adam was nearly giddy.  I opened the paper to find one word written in all capital letters: GIRL.  She is a girl!  We were and continue to be ecstatic!  We smiled and laughed and celebrated in the booth.  Our waitress brought us a card signed by many of the Maggiano's employees that said, "Congratulations on your baby girl!" and a dessert after our meal with pink candles.  Adam told most of the people around us about our news and as we were leaving the restaurant, he turned around to shout, "we're having a little girl!"

We decided to keep our news to ourselves for a few more minutes and instead of calling our families immediately, we went shopping!  We bought an adorable outfit for our little girl and a stuffed elephant.  On our way home, we called Adam's parents and brother.  Then, when we got back to the apartment, we Facetimed with my parents and then, my brother.

It's amazing what a difference, what a life changing experience, it was to see the ultrasound and find out that she is a girl.  I have no regrets about how we decided to experience that.  I'm thankful that we opened our envelope on our terms and celebrated!  I'm overwhelmingly grateful that the baby seems to be healthy.  I am thrilled to have seen her and to have learned more about her.  It's indescribable what it means to be to be able to use "she" or "her" instead of "it," what it means to have a sneak peek into what we are anticipating.  We are going to have a daughter.  We don't know what she'll look like, her fears, her likes, her dislikes, her passions, her pet peeves, her aspirations, her dreams, her strengths, or her weaknesses, but we have had our first real glimpse. We could not be more excited to experience life with her.  We're having a baby girl!

Tackling Youth Football in America

This weekend, I engaged in a emergent, cultural phenomenon (thanks to Netflix, Video OnDemand, and the internet) accurately described as "binge watching".  Recently, I've binge-watched The Tudors, Arrested Development, Modern Family and Breaking Bad.  However, my stomach turned, brain churned, and heart broke as I watched the train wreck that is Friday Night Tykes (FNT).

Although the Esquire Network tries to convince viewers that FNT is a "docuseries", I'm pretty sure that it's a reality show.  It follows the coaches, players, and some families of 5 teams of 9 year olds...the Outlaws, Jr. Broncos, Colts, Rockets and the Predators (my personal favorite)...in the Texas Youth Football Association in San Antonio

Ask Katy.  For whatever reason, I couldn't change the channel.  Maybe it was the drama, or the football-crazed coaches, or the desire for the children to walk away from the practices, or how badly I wanted some coaches to lose.  No matter the reason, I couldn't turn away or change the channel, which fed directly into the Esquire Network's wish for ratings.  However, I did take away a few things:

1. The majority of the coaches featured in the series want to win above all else.  They may say that they care about the health of their players and want them to have fun, but their actions are contradictory.
2. My favorite person in the show is....J Boogie.  He spent the offseason with his aunt in Indianapolis, spending most of his time at the swimming pool.  My heart ached for him as he left his first practice of the season crying, because his coach made him run the entire practice.  Later the coach admitted that he didn't watch him run or know how much he ran.
3. There was no demonstration of proper tackling techniques.  Coaches encouraged their players to hit the other players hard, and to quit crying when they were hurt.  At one point a boy most likely suffered a concussion on a tackle in practice, and the solution was to pour water on his head.
4. It is not ok to curse at children.
5. These are children.
6. "Emotions are a female trait."  Seriously?!?!?!
7. People are crazy.  The coach of one team cried after a week 1 loss, because it was the most important day of his life....this guy has a family!
8. Youth football has a perception problem.

I realize that this is a small snapshot of what is happening throughout America in youth football leagues, and is most likely not happening on every practice field and game.  However this is part of the perception of football in America.

• There is a case in the courts between the NFL and former players resulting from the long-term effects of traumatic brain injuries (TBI) and chronic traumatic encephalopothy (CTE).   The case is a long way from being settled, and may result in over $1 billion in damages from the NFL.
•  Youth football participation is on the decline in America.  Although the NFL and youth football believe that it is due to the decline in the economy, and not related to TBIs and other related injuries, I believe that there is a correlation and would have a difficult time allowing a young child to play full-contact football.
• The NFL is concerned about the portrayal of youth football contained in FNT.  They may project the idea that it is because of the actions of the coaches and parents, but injuries to children are prevalent in the series, as well.
• Youth football leaders have felt the need to speak out on the perception created by the show, while carefully refraining from mentioning concussions, TBIs or CTE.  Also, the TYFA president felt the need to let those of us outside of the great state of Texas that we just may not understand that his league's games are like an NFL game...c'mon buddy...you're talking about 9 year olds.
• TBIs and youth football are impacting our country to the point that state legislatures are passing laws outlining procedures and practices to ensure the safety of our youth.  See how your state has legislated to protect youth football players.

As a lifelong baseball fan, the current situation in which football in America finds itself is eerily similar to the fanaticism that surrounded the MLB's rise in popularity in the 90's.  Baseball's participation crisis is the result of steroid-fueled home run records.  Football's participations crisis is a result of the number of and science behind concussions, naturally present in the game...along with a myriad of other head and neck injuries.

Major League Baseball is still wading through the aftermath of the steroid era's bloated records and muscle bound hysteria crash, resulting in the RBI program and other outreach efforts.  The long-term effects of the "concussion" era of football may be similar to the effects on its players' bodies and minds, not truly felt until much later, but for now there's the Heads Up program.

I am an avid sports fan, football included.  I root for the Vols and Titans with as much passion as anyone.  Yes, in higher levels, if we are going to continue to embrace football, we need to concentrate on teaching the correct ways to tackle, helpful tips to avoid injury, and accept the idea that injuries can and will continue to happen, even with new precautionary measures and marketing campaigns.  However, the hesitations outlined here are in relation to young children, who are still growing, developing, and are not as capable of safely participating in an activity like full contact football and with full knowledge of the cumulative effects on their bodies.

Blog of a Blog

This weekend my friend, Andrew, let me contribute to his blog about youth ministry.  I answered the question "Why Should the Church Invest in Youth?"  So, I thought that perhaps all of you, my newly faithful readers, would like to be included...below you'll find my contribution and then, a link to what promises to be an interesting forum about youth ministry for those of you so inclined.

Why Should the Church Invest in Youth?

            All too often, it can feel as if the church overlooks a lack of investment in youth.  We tell them to enjoy this time with few responsibilities, while simultaneously saying to prepare for life as an adult.  I agree with that advice, but I do maintain that it is a disservice to our youth; to foster a belief that what they do today doesn’t matter.  Being a teenager should not be a get out of jail free card.  Youth do matter today, not only because of what they will become, but because of who they are today.  To me, this is the foundation of why the church should, and must, invest in youth.

            No matter how long ago it was, we can all look back on our years as a youth, probably with at least some amount of nostalgia.  As teenagers, we struggled both within ourselves and with those around us, for what we deemed to be freedoms, our beliefs, our friends, and most of all, to define ourselves.  During those tumultuous years, we developed the core of our being.  The foundation was laid during childhood; as youth we began to make our own decisions.   A great deal of soul searching can be done within the church, as long as there are people willing to invest in youth, to be there for them, help them struggle with doubts and questions, and encourage their spiritual development.  Without that investment, we are missing out on being a part of the process of growing up, which is imperative within the church family, as in any family.  Youth are not more important than any other ministry in the church, but it is crucial that they be just as important.

            As today’s youth are growing up, they are developing passions and looking for a way to make tangible differences in their world.  Yes, we, as believers, are called to encourage the relationship between our youth and their Lord; just as Jesus tells Peter in John 21:15-19.  However, it doesn’t end there.  We are also called to foster their ability to become disciples, not just believers.  Youth are a part of the church of today, not just the church of tomorrow.  Youth are making a difference in our churches, our communities, and our world right now.  When we, as a church, invest in our youth and set high expectations for them, they will meet or exceed them.  I have seen it.  As Paul so eloquently puts it in his first letter to Timothy, “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity,” (1 Timothy 4:12, NIV).  The church is called to invest in our youth.  So, invest in their ability to be what they are called to be.

http://youthministryconversations.blogspot.com/