Thanksgiving or as I like to call it every day of my year

So its a curious phase in the life of the Vogt clan. We tried another kick at the can with me applying to get my PhD in Religious Studies. I have a Master's degree and wanting to be a professor the next logical step was PhD. We waited for a response for 7 months. I look in my email....I see the email.....I open the email............wait for it.......and I am .......rejected. Thats the second time a Canadian school told me I didnt have the right stuff for PhD studies as well as a teacher from my old school who said the same. So what does one do with rejection you ask? Do I weep or feel sorry for myself? Well, let me give you a run down of some of things I have been rejected from: intelligence officer for csis (canadian spy agency), RCMP, tech at a radio station, tech for a law firm, border guard, McDonalds, manure spreader, even the military conveniently let me know that they weren't hiring. So yah, lets just say me and rejection are on a first name basis. Some of those rejections, I must admit, I was very disappointed about. SOme I had great hopes for. Some I did for a laugh. I put sincere effort into all of them and they all failed miserably. So what is a guy to do. Here I am with a good (albeit not glamorous) job selling cell phones and more ambition than can be contained in this little town. Much to my surprise I was not disappointed at all. I wondered how I would feel. I read the email and immediately called my wife to tell her. She seemed quiet and didn't really say much. I took stock of my own emotions. I wasn't torn up, I wasn't depressed. I was....actually okay. I wasn't happy that is for sure, but the peaceful response brought some interesting contemplation. I realized I had forgotten all those people I might have touched, loved or encouraged along the way. I felt like my life had only purposed if I was focused on the goal I had in my mind. If I was moving then I was winning. But what I realize now is that I was actually having fun playing the game. It wasn't really about winning or losing anymore.

You see reader I grew up in a competitive environment and ambition and success were taught very young to me as the pinnacle of my existence. Yet as I have grown as a person I have been liberated to a new world. One in which I can still be ambitious, but trusting that I am not really on the line. When failures come up, its really okay. I have people to love and be loved by and thats really what counts. It sounds so cliche, but thats really what it comes down to. I surrender my sense of winning and losing to just becoming the kid who wants to play cooperative games where everybody wins. Thats who I am.

So that is the big thing that happened to us recently. On a lighter note, I shaved off my beard that I had been growing for about 4 months. *I have not been without facial hair in about 6 1/2 years*
   

I feel these pictures do wonders to keep my dignity in check. I look like I have gone insane and gotten rid of all my hair and clothes. 

I have really gotten to know my newest son Kerean lately. That boy is loud and he has his preferences. Let me tell you. The first little bit I thought he was colic, but what I figure is he was just yelling at us the whole time because he thought we were parenting him wrong. Whats really wonderful is when you realize what it takes to shut him up. For example, if he is cuddling with you, you better be committed because if you decide to transition him to a crib...oh boy. Whats really neat is that now that I have gotten it in my mind that he is just really particular I dont stress out when he whines, I just try and figure out what he is asking for or at least the next best thing. Whats funny is that now that we have learned how to parent him his personality shows in some really beautiful ways. I love to see him giggle and smile at his mother. 

Azariah continues to be just the sweetest little boy. As you probably know reader, I lost my dad when I was 16. The father-son bond is something I am acutely aware of and I have found that so is he. Often he is over the moon when I come home from work. To make Azariah sleep, one of his favourite things is to cuddle with papa (me). If I am honest, I am happy to continue this tradition till he is 45.....then it might be getting weird. Another sweet time was as we were driving in the car, a song came on the stereo. It was the song bella notte. Its an Italian song I would sometimes sing to him for him to go to sleep. It melted my heart to hear him belt out the chorus for this song (belt it out as much as he would anyway). It makes me happy to know that I have put music in my sons heart. Good, peaceful, beautiful music. 

One final note. Doris has been obsessed with wraps. Essentially its a humongous blanket you wrap your baby in to carry them around. There are websites. Meetings. Some of these wraps cost huge dollars. Ill be honest, I dont understand it (more how much they cost), but I can see that there is a holistic, intimate and very personal method in this arena. She is excited to welcome her first high end wrap to the family whenever it happens to pass customs. I assume it will fly or do something special with all the excitement she puts behind it. To be honest, if it doesnt have a current going through it I dont usually have loads of interest, but I know my wife will enjoy something crazy high end for a while and then make it transform into a bunch of money at the end of it all. So I say, have your fun baby. 

What follows is a series of pictures that have no relevance to anything. They were just on my phone and I thought they would be an entertaining glimpse into the Vogt family. 

Fumbling towards Christmas

I always liked Christmas. As a Christian I was drawn to Christ. I didnt really identify with the cross. Violent, sacrificial death never really resonated with me. Being vulnerable, giving things up, these were themes I could relate to. So how you might ask does this relate to my family. Well, I have always loved Christmas and it always seemed like the time where you prove your metal to your children. How well do you know them enough to provide them with a meaningful and satisfying holiday. Yet if you would go back in your memories to sitting near your folks and could look through that facade and see how truly afraid they really were, you might think differently about Christmas.

What I am saying is that expectation and reality are probably the most universal struggles we have as human beings.

I am well versed in expectation when it comes to parenting because I have given enormous effort to analyzing my father and all that he said and did. There is a certain need one has when a person dies to "close up shop" in terms of your relationship with them. To forgive old transgressions, reflect on the good the bad and the ugly. And when all is said and done to settle the memory of that person in a comfortable place in your mind where it can provide nourishment for your soul. Doing this with a parent is particularly hard. My father was a man of many gifts and with many faults, all of which were on display most days of his life. This closing up shop has been a long process. But the shop is reopened in a unique way. I am now dad. Gerald Vogt, father, sales man...he rides again in a sense only now Tig is the driver. I find myself with unique parallels. Sons who look to me with great affection. A devoted wife who is my best friend. A faltering will, steeled with a sense of resolve.

To take this illustration and bring it more real. My oldest son, Azariah, is in competition with his brother. The winner gets attention. The loser is ignored. This competition is a reality of siblings. Cain and Abel felt it, Jay and I felt it, Azariah and Kerean will feel it. So I wonder to myself how do I manage this? How did Dad manage it? Did he do it at all? Did he fail?

These questions I find are pervasive in everything you do as a parent. What are my expectations? The reality is often quite different. The sense of self-perception Azariah has or Kerean will be there own. I dont own it and I never will. But that doesnt mean my efforts will not echo and sometimes scream through them.

So thats it. Forgive me this bought of melancholy dear readers. Thoughts prevade in my head and I rarely have a chance to share them. Dont let my children know when Christmas comes around and they are happy, how afraid I was of failing them. Dont let your kids know that either. They figure it out just fine, take my word for it.

And now a word from our adorable sponsors.

Kerean Gerald Vogt- Life's little miracles dont come cheap

It was just minutes before midnight as I looked down. The well lit room was filled with noises. People shouting directions. My wife screaming. Our doula giving counsel. And when the time came to pass my second son came into this world. I took great joy and delight in this moment because I knew what it meant. Our oldest son Azariah means so much to us I didnt know whether my heart would have room, but I was wrong and I knew it. My joy bubbled out of me and I shouted and cheered as my son let out his first screams. My wife glowed with an exhaustive joy that reflected her beautiful soul. This picture and her beauty will be in my heart till the day I die.

9 hours earlier we started the process of labour. We found the staff and the experience to be unsatisfying. Doris had been experiencing high blood pressure and because of this fact she was being admitted to the high risk ward for delivery. We latter discovered there was a packed house of women who were giving birth, which left little assistance for anyone not hemriging or 10cm dilated. We laboured alone. My wife, myself, and our wonderful doula.

Our doula's name was Susan. For those of you who dont know a doula is basically a birth coach. I was excited from the moment I realized what a doula did to involve one because I found myself in Azariah's birth watching my wife struggle and just sitting in stress for 9 hours while she suffered with only semi-capable nurses whose role didnt include that type of service. Susan was a wonderful anchor in moments of stress. She had attended many births and when we had questions, she had answers. She knew techniques and exercises Doris and I had long forgotten. She laboured with us and for that this woman will have a special place in my heart. I remember Doris struggling during one particular contraction and Susan pulling her to her chest and simply holding her. That image of Susan holding my wife is a tender one and showed me a heart that this womans objective was not simply to get paid, but to serve us with tender love and to show us kind grace in a very difficult time.

My experience this time was also very different than the last time. I was significantly more confident and was able to add a great deal more of intelligent assistance. I am currently on a fairly high dosage of an anti-anxiety drug called zoloft. One of the benefits (or perhaps draw backs) is that when you are in a stressful situation it locks away your panicked inner child. Your inner child is still panicked, but it just cant run rampant. I am a deeply emotional person so this always has an odd effect on me, but the result is that I can remain perfectly composed in difficult situations. So, I was a rock.....outwardly. Inwardly I struggled and ached for my wife in this moment of stress and pain. But I spoke when I needed to speak, I helped when I needed to help and because this was my second time at bat I knew those times a little better than the first time.

My Doris was also a different person. She knew how to handle it. She was stronger. Smarter. When it came time Kerean came into this world smooth, with minimal complications. Something I am deeply grateful for.

I will speed through the final details. We got stuck in a room next to some Filipino people who taught me an important lesson, that is that Dominos will deliver to a hospital. The room we were in was small....to put it midly and I started to hatch a plan to escape (released or not). I have been married to my wonderful wife over 5 years and God bless her for her tolerance of my oddness. Just as I was about to tell the nurse that we were gonna take our 1 day old and bounce they told us we were gonna get a private room. This was a wonderful thing for Doris and me. They came in to do test on Kerean. The billireuban test for jaundis was kind of unpleasant. Apparently our new son doesnt like to be stabbed in the foot and he would not bleed, so the tech essentially had to keep stabbing and squeezing till blood came out. He had to stay another day and get the light treatment. I took this opportunity to go home and bring his brother back to meet him.

Fast forward a month later. Kerean is loud...like his brother...like his father. He knows what he wants and when he wants it. 

I have two sons and a wife I love. My son is named Kerean. I came up with this name from Tyrian (game of thrones) and the word for mercy in Greek. His name is meant to mean, the Lord is merciful. May the Lord be merciful to you Kerean Gerald Vogt. May he be merciful by reminding you how deeply your mother, brother and father love you. May he remind you that you have the noblest traits of the Thiessen's, people whose strength of character is matched by their enduring faithfulness. When you say your name may you be reminded that you are a Vogt. A proud people who have a history of strong, upstanding, intelligent do-er's who never became victims but became victors in their circumstances. Love like your mother, its the best trait you could ask for from the best person to get it from. Care like your brother, whose tender heart amazes me in only his two simple years. If I have anything to offer you let it be faithfulness, to God, to friends, to family. I am a Vogt and I am a victor and so are you my dear sweet K-bear. I love you to the depths of places unfound and unseen by man, but known by God. You are a treasure in a collection I couldn't have dreamed of and I look forward to seeing you shine. May God love you and keep you safe.
    

Life

For those of you who dont know, we recently invited in a new addition. His name is Kerean Gerald Vogt. He is the second son in this house and the spirit of welcome could not be greater. His older brother is happy to bring him and his mother and father are over the moon. A proper introduction of this little Vogt will be made shortly, but this blog is about something slightly different.

Today marks the 17th anniversary of my fathers passing. As I recollect today my wife asked me how I had felt about the day and truly I had no answer. This is my explanation. Life. My father passed away in the Health Science Center during an open heart surgery. On July 5, another Gerald Vogt came into this world at the same hospital. I gave him that name that my fathers memory might endure. I gave him that name so in some sense my Dad would have life again. As I observe the passing of this anniversary I notice the effect that this action has had on me in my deepest part. The wounds, old as they are, seem gone. Like someone receiving a skin graft, the old scares are covered by something new. My father was a good man and I am blessed to have the memory of a fine, well respected gentleman who taught me how to love my sons with the deepest, most sincere heart I could imagine coming from a man. Just as his death had a ripple effect in me, should not Kerean's birth reverberate as much if not more. I give thanks to God for this life and I am excited to explore a world where I can live liberated from an old wound. Full of life, hope, and the fondest recollection of a father that I proudly call my own and whose children and grandchildren will remember him.

Struck by love

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Truly I have a delightful inheritance. That is from somewhere in Psalms. Before I go to far I must apologize for not updating this sooner. My wife reminded me that there are people that enjoy reading my blog and that I hadent updated it in a while. Truly I dont update it frequently because I often think or feel that I sound pretentious when I write, but I try and be honest and vulnerable and I hope that the second comes across more than the first. I have a measured amount of autism. This is a reality of who I am, of who I have always been. I have also been a person who wants approval, which creates an interesting irony where I dont understand social situations, but my highest reward is social approval. So essentially, I want you to like me, but unless you tell me explicitly to my face I really dont have much of a clear idea.

That being said, I have been a father for almost 3 years and husband/partner for 6 and I dont really get it. I mean I understand it intellectually, but emotionally it doesnt really make loads of sense to me. I think my wife is beautiful, funny, entertaining and very talented. She has her flaws, but I think they are more than surpassed by who she is as a woman. My son is a unique, funny, genuine, sweet and sincere boy. He also has his flaws, but they are surpassed by who he is as a person. I am often struck by the reality of the woman who is with me and the son I am raising and I think, "why are they with me?" As I said before, I dont understand it emotionally.

To speak of my son. My son yearns for me. For the love of his father. And I intern ache for him. When people tell me you cant be a friend to your kid you have to be a parent, I am struck by a persons definition of friendship. Friendship (to me anyways) requires mutual respect, accountability, boundaries and the desire to help one another grow in Christ. Intimacy has a way of changing rules. You should do this, you shouldnt do that. When you love from the truest, deepest place of yourself the rules become a little more grey. This is not to say there arent rules, but how we live them is often finds a firm foundation and can conversely be challenged when a deep sense of intimacy comes into play to offer clarity and/or confusion.

 To speak of my wife. Pregnancy is an ode to God himself. It is the testimony of creation through the physical body of a woman and it is glorious. The glory of anguish, hunger, emotion and finally life. My wife is the vessel from which my sons have and will have come and I continually thank God and her that she was and is willing to bear my sons into this world. Her natural beauty is magnified in these moments and I am swept away in it. I am humbled and scared that such a responsibility is left to this weak person.

 To speak finally of my youngest son. He who has yet to take a breath. I know him. On some deep level I feel his presence and anticipate his arrival. I hear him in my mind arguing with his brother. I hear his tantrums and feel him drawn to me for the same love and intimacy that his brother seeks. I feel my sons cling to me and I let my hearts love and earthly energy flow to them like a river flows to the sea. Without will, but as an act of nature. My son has a name, a room of his own, and eternally a place in our hearts. We anticipate with deep love another life that has found its place among us. To speak of myself. I am in a very low place to put it quite simply. I have attempted many things and many of them have failed in some cases miserably. My will and my emotions have been taxed and I just feel done. I dont say this to ask any sympathy, but just to tell you how I feel. I am profoundly weak in my heart and spirit and I do my duties with a significant degree of effort because the person that I am struggles to go after something more. My current venture is to seek to complete my PhD and become a college professor. I can do many things, but this is where my hearts desire and the worlds need meet and I know this is the right vocation for me and I need to go after it with all that is left in me.

 Thank you again for the reading my blog. I lay my heart out in this digital world and I hope that through reading about my and my families life you are encouraged and brought to a greater faith and hope. Enjoy the moments you are given and lets the alabaster jar of your deepest emotions be broken and let gravity pull it out of you and flow over those you love and the things you cherish.

A Fifth year of love

I dont like cliches reader. I dont think anyone does. Cliches are a outward expression of an inward truth using words or phrases that other people have. Yet there are very little other options sometimes. To tell my wife, "happy anniversary." Would simply be a travesty. A travesty because I have been married to Doris for 5 years and I am no less grateful for her, as a youth is grateful when he gets a chance to date the prom queen, and so much astoundingly more in love with her than when we first came together that I could not find the words that would hold this meaning so all I can tell her is happy anniversary. Yes its cliche, yes its trite, but until we find something more honest than language then it'll have to do.

We celebrated our anniversary in two seperate circumstances. We went out to Hy's steakhouse for a delicious, but outrageously priced meal and then this past weekend we spent the day shopping and took in a movie.

God has given me this family and I couldn't be more grateful. I am honored that my wife is still and would consider me her best friend. I am deeply humbled by the challenge of raising a son and I am excited for this next year and what the giver of life has instore for us.