I look down at my phone tonight with a slight sense of sadness. You see dear reader, tomorrow I get a new one. There is this strange bond people have with their phones. Its objectively the most intimate object in your life. It sleeps beside you. It channels your obsessions, your fantasies, your longings. It is the conduite by which you emotionally funnel to and from the world at large. Most people will keep their phone for years and often develop an emotion towards this piece of metal and glass. In my business, the majority of people will exchange their phone showing some kind of emotion. Words like "worst" or "best" are commonly thrown around. Positive or negative, swapping a phone is an emotional experience and I am the agent of that change for many people.
Change generally is profoundly difficult. It is difficult because we are inherently looking for stability and consistency. Change is inevitable, but we are still surprised by it. Looking at my life, I see markers of change. Moving to Steinbach from Vassar. My Dad dying. Going to school. Getting married etc.
Suffice to say the lesson of change is difficult. How do I teach this to my children? Of course there is no single answer to that question, but one answer is to be the rock they smash against and are broken. What I mean is that there desire will always be to maintain, but I am required to fight against that and challenge them to excel. This is easily the most difficult thing one can do as a parent. The worst parents I have seen consistently give in to their children and the children learn quickly who holds the power. The problem is that I am not in my nature their adversary. I am their protector. I am their provider. I am their cheerleader. To teach them to change I have to be their adversary. I have to oppose others who want to shield them and drag them to a place of discomfort. All of this being done from a place of conviction and in unity with their mother. This sentiment stands in opposition to my emotions for them.
Alright, they develop the agency to adapt in the world. Now what? I need to teach them intellectual change. I will use myself as an illustration. I am not left-leaning in my political or social bents. As an individual living in Canada, it is much safer to have left leaning ideals. It is harder to hold convictions that grate against the cultural context. I do not hold to my ideals to be contentious, but as a result of deep contemplation and intellectual conviction. I am not compelled by the emotion of argument, but rather its substance. In my experience, emotions represent instability more than stability in ones own beliefs. I have always enjoyed the quote by Martin Luther
Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience. May God help me. Amen
Fundamentally, to teach my kids to be agents of change means to fight against dogmatic views. Humanity is comforted by dogma. It is uncomfortable to be challenged and to test the truth of your ideas out to be changed. For my kids, this means that when I see dogma being fed to them (from school or otherwise) I poke a hole. My son relayed a story from his teacher that a kid died by eating too much sugar. I brought my son to me and told him that a healthy person dies for many complex reasons and sometimes simple answers do not always do the best job as explanations. I poked a hole in the simplistic approach of the teacher because I want my son to look past the teacher to the idea.
Lastly, I will share a realisation. One of my biggest fears is losing my wife and/or kids. Knowing that death is inevitable means that the possibility always exists to some degree. Yet, I was clearly reminded, thinking about this blog, that loss of this kind can be overcome. Never freed from the burden totally, but not incapacitated by it. The experience of grieving can be analogized as painting a portrait of that person. Our first images are god-like. They radiated with the glow of the sun and we grieve all the more that our universe has lost its sun. If we find reality, we can adjust the picture with time. We temper the glow with their humanity. We add the flaws into the picture and when we have painted it perfectly we hang it on the wall of our soul and that person goes with us. Providing a profound source of strength, comfort, clarity and vulnerability.
I was comforted in the knowledge that, no matter what happens, I am an agent of change and I will walk through hell one day, but I will make it to the other side because I can change and I can overcome even the worst things life can throw at me. I'm still here after all. I want my children to understand that and to live that fact. Your still here. You made it one more day and if we can find a healthy expression of loss, maybe we can find strength too. If we can embrace hard conversations with other, perhaps we can build empathy for one another. If we can fight the urge to stagnant and move forward, perhaps we'll get to the top of the mountain after all.
Monday, November 25, 2019
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Wounds of the heart
***heavy spiritual language in this post***
So, I was at church with my family listening to the worship music when I felt God speak to me. In the tradition I was raised I was taught thatGod can give you the means of expressing yourself in unusual ways, commonly called “speaking in tounges.” Here I found myself being directed to something similar, but it was writing and it was in English. As the words poured out of me I realized that it was a prayer for my children. As I fell into the emotion of what I was writing. The tears came down and I attempted to resist the discomfort. I realized in that moment that my feelings for my family are like a wound. It is myself totally open and without reservation. I can attend it with bandages to keep it under control, but it is a wound. Touch that spot and you will get my most honest a visceral reactions. Strike it, but if you do then you’ll need to run. There is the expression, “I love them so much it hurts.” This is a feeling to which I clearly make a connection.
Below you will find what I wrote. It is a prayer for my children. The prayer is based on verses Isaiah and Jeremiah, when God decrees judgements. It is a prayer for the reversal of those judgments.
A fathers prayer
So, I was at church with my family listening to the worship music when I felt God speak to me. In the tradition I was raised I was taught thatGod can give you the means of expressing yourself in unusual ways, commonly called “speaking in tounges.” Here I found myself being directed to something similar, but it was writing and it was in English. As the words poured out of me I realized that it was a prayer for my children. As I fell into the emotion of what I was writing. The tears came down and I attempted to resist the discomfort. I realized in that moment that my feelings for my family are like a wound. It is myself totally open and without reservation. I can attend it with bandages to keep it under control, but it is a wound. Touch that spot and you will get my most honest a visceral reactions. Strike it, but if you do then you’ll need to run. There is the expression, “I love them so much it hurts.” This is a feeling to which I clearly make a connection.
Below you will find what I wrote. It is a prayer for my children. The prayer is based on verses Isaiah and Jeremiah, when God decrees judgements. It is a prayer for the reversal of those judgments.
A fathers prayer
Gracious are you God and father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For you transcend eternity and have sought me and my forebears and my descendants. In a land foreign and alone you have called us by your name. Apart from you I have no good thing.
Your name reaches far beyond my house. May the power of your name reign over my family. Will you watch over those who bear my name and show them all your Grace. Forgive their sins. Give them eyes to see and ears to hear. Make their hearts soft and supple. Let them see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn and be healed.
Let the word to my descendants be, “ this is the place of repose, let the weary rest.” Grant them the wisdom to withhold themselves from the foolish. Let them be seekers of wisdom and lovers of peace. Let them choose companions of the spiritual tribes of Israel. Let the work of their hand prosper.
When the time comes for their discipline, have mercy. Discipline them, as an unruly calf, but heal them that they may return to you. Do not leave them utterly desolate. For you have loved me, love my descendants. For you good oh Lord and your love endures forever.
Amen
PS- please forgive the formatting and any spelling problems on my blog. I am writing this at the gym.
Thursday, October 3, 2019
The ego and hypocrisy of purpose
I knew a man, who when he spoke I heard ego. Later, as I thought of it and I realized- you need ego to have purpose. Fundamentally, your contribution to the world stops when you think you have nothing to contribute to it. A sense of self-importance is necessary to engage in any task. You need to believe your strong enough to lift the box or smart enough to fix the technology.
Age has a profoundly tempering effect. As time goes by we are constantly exposed to the most vile aspects of the human condition. That friend we went to you with cheated on his wife. The guy from high school is a hard core drug dealer. The guy you played baseball was arrested and in jail for assault. Youthful idealism is easily replaced by a cynical view. We look at the world and ourselves and we see glaring faults. So why were we different in our 20’s. We weren’t better. So how did we life open to a world of possibility? All those faults existed just as much if not worse.
For me the link between seeing the ugliness of the world and living a life of significance-spirituality. For me, this is through the teaching of Christ. My understanding of spirituality is that purpose extends beyond human limitations and exists outside my reach. Spirituality looks for something greater. The arrogance of purpose comes, not in self-confidence, but in participation in the greater things. When we can live and act as extension of a common humanity and to wrought a purpose that is super natural, only then can we be brazen to think that we can help.
I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. - Galatians 2:20
Through faith and the act of the cross I engage with a broken world as an extension of his work. I am brazen because I know greater glory will come from Gods purposes of someone so deeply and profoundly flawed.
Wednesday, October 2, 2019
A hard childhood
My kids don’t have it rough. They have a mother and a father who are emotionally self-aware. They are given emotional support through all their difficulties. It safe to say, my kids won’t have a rough go, if the trend continues.
Contrast that with kids I have worked with as an assistant. Homeless, orphaned, abused, neglected are all words that fit. These kids have an edge, a hardness that is shaped by the difficulties they have handled.
What do you do as a parent when your kids are marshmallows. Do you burn them? Do you wait for life to burn them? I think every parent has an image in their mind of what parenting should look like to them. You come to your circumstances with alien expectations, that is expectations that are born out of experience that have nothing to do with your kids as people or the circumstances you are raising them in. It’s funny how often that is the case in life. We approach our life’s challenges like a baseball player walking into a hockey arena. Wrong equipment, wrong rules, wrong teams, wrong locations.
Another aspect of this is that we use our alien expectations to look into the future. With a dose of pessimism, we perceive the war zone that our current situation will bring to us. We see the disconnect between our expectations and reality as a symptom of a greater problem. “Surely, if I were doing this right I could have avoided this hassle. If things continue everything I love will disappear,” we think. This is extreme, but it is meant to illustrate the spectrum of negative emotions. Emotions are the looking glass that we see the world through. If we are sad, all we will see is sadness. If we are hopefully, we will see hope.
I believe in offering conclusions. Expectations vs reality vs the future. My only conclusion is that hope will sustain me and despair will drain me. Despair is easier cos you’re giving up. Finally, my marshmallow children. The kids are still very young. Life provides plenty of wounds and effects to make a person more savvy to life. Perhaps my kids just get to be kids longer than others; that’s not so bad. The challenge for me is to not let them off the hook. I need to challenge them. I need to oppose them. I need to cause them discomfort. They won’t grow otherwise. These are more difficult traits. It’s much easier and more fun to be the buddy. I guess we’ll see whether life leaves them at the campfire or in a bag with the other marshmallows.
Contrast that with kids I have worked with as an assistant. Homeless, orphaned, abused, neglected are all words that fit. These kids have an edge, a hardness that is shaped by the difficulties they have handled.
What do you do as a parent when your kids are marshmallows. Do you burn them? Do you wait for life to burn them? I think every parent has an image in their mind of what parenting should look like to them. You come to your circumstances with alien expectations, that is expectations that are born out of experience that have nothing to do with your kids as people or the circumstances you are raising them in. It’s funny how often that is the case in life. We approach our life’s challenges like a baseball player walking into a hockey arena. Wrong equipment, wrong rules, wrong teams, wrong locations.
Another aspect of this is that we use our alien expectations to look into the future. With a dose of pessimism, we perceive the war zone that our current situation will bring to us. We see the disconnect between our expectations and reality as a symptom of a greater problem. “Surely, if I were doing this right I could have avoided this hassle. If things continue everything I love will disappear,” we think. This is extreme, but it is meant to illustrate the spectrum of negative emotions. Emotions are the looking glass that we see the world through. If we are sad, all we will see is sadness. If we are hopefully, we will see hope.
I believe in offering conclusions. Expectations vs reality vs the future. My only conclusion is that hope will sustain me and despair will drain me. Despair is easier cos you’re giving up. Finally, my marshmallow children. The kids are still very young. Life provides plenty of wounds and effects to make a person more savvy to life. Perhaps my kids just get to be kids longer than others; that’s not so bad. The challenge for me is to not let them off the hook. I need to challenge them. I need to oppose them. I need to cause them discomfort. They won’t grow otherwise. These are more difficult traits. It’s much easier and more fun to be the buddy. I guess we’ll see whether life leaves them at the campfire or in a bag with the other marshmallows.
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
Even handed
Preamble- I am going to try to write more organically. What that means is faster, when the thoughts come and less proof reading. This is not a professional blog and I think I will enjoy it more if I can put ideas out quicker. Thanks for having patients.
If you know me and have been following this blog you will know that I lost my father when I was younger. He died when I was 16. My mother is alive and well and has been an active piece Of my life. I was sitting and thinking about this and I realized I had been unfair to her.
Having kids has been for me an exercise in reflection. As I love and care for my kids, I am reminded how I was loved. I had a great childhood. Even with losing my father, I had access to a variety of experiences and opportunities. Yet, I am by my nature inclined to sadness and I often look back on my past and lament. My recent realization that my Dad, a fine and honourable man, had his failings as a parent. That being said, when I remember the past all I see are warm memories and moments. I realized that they are the results of looking at my father through the eyes of a 16 year old boy. The truth of it was that I had 16 years and a kid that age still really looks with admiration on his dad. My mother didn’t die. She lived. Our relationship isn’t idealized. It’s real. I know her and am full conscious of the person she is (and conversely the type of person I am via her). Real relationships are difficult. People disappoint you. They frustrate you. They hurt you. All these things have gone on between her and I. The thing is, I believed and still believe, worth while connections are built with time and a mutual desire to continue. One of my favourite relationships in life has been with my mother, yet when things got dark I would sometimes look through the eyes of a 16 year old boy and miss the counterpart to mom. This was unfair to her.
I have no conflict with my dad. No pain. No hurt. He’s dead. Struggle is a sign of life. It shows that you are living and the people around you are as well. This was a good lesson and one that I often forget and have to relearn. I’m not dead. Neither are you. Let’s work it out and keep trying. The reward comes from the commitment you show to the task.
If you know me and have been following this blog you will know that I lost my father when I was younger. He died when I was 16. My mother is alive and well and has been an active piece Of my life. I was sitting and thinking about this and I realized I had been unfair to her.
Having kids has been for me an exercise in reflection. As I love and care for my kids, I am reminded how I was loved. I had a great childhood. Even with losing my father, I had access to a variety of experiences and opportunities. Yet, I am by my nature inclined to sadness and I often look back on my past and lament. My recent realization that my Dad, a fine and honourable man, had his failings as a parent. That being said, when I remember the past all I see are warm memories and moments. I realized that they are the results of looking at my father through the eyes of a 16 year old boy. The truth of it was that I had 16 years and a kid that age still really looks with admiration on his dad. My mother didn’t die. She lived. Our relationship isn’t idealized. It’s real. I know her and am full conscious of the person she is (and conversely the type of person I am via her). Real relationships are difficult. People disappoint you. They frustrate you. They hurt you. All these things have gone on between her and I. The thing is, I believed and still believe, worth while connections are built with time and a mutual desire to continue. One of my favourite relationships in life has been with my mother, yet when things got dark I would sometimes look through the eyes of a 16 year old boy and miss the counterpart to mom. This was unfair to her.
I have no conflict with my dad. No pain. No hurt. He’s dead. Struggle is a sign of life. It shows that you are living and the people around you are as well. This was a good lesson and one that I often forget and have to relearn. I’m not dead. Neither are you. Let’s work it out and keep trying. The reward comes from the commitment you show to the task.
Monday, August 19, 2019
What grace is given me
Autumn Justina Grace. Autumn-name take from a movie 500 days of summer. The name of a character who reconnects the protagonist to fate. Justina-name taken from my wifes grandmother. A kindly, sweet lady with a heart of gold. Grace- name from the idea of divine influence that operates in humans to regenerate and sanctify.
She turned 3....on July 8. To be honest, I have been thinking about this blog post for two months. I worried about it dear reader. I did not worry about you judging me, but I worried that I might not be clear. I wish to reflect on my journey of being a father of a daughter.
This might seem like I am making a mountain of a mole hill, but bear with me. You see, growing up I was exposed to a great deal of feminist ideology. I took (rightly in my opinion) a negative slant away about men specifically. I believed that women were the victims of men. I worried I was a victimizer because I was a man. This is not a healthy way to live nor is it accurate. We live in a world where women are afforded the protection of law and have an abundance of opportunity and while sexism is a thing (in both men and women) I do not believe the notion that it is systematic is helpful or practical.
So struggling with the ideas as I did, I was quite stressed upon learning our third child would be a girl. I wondered how I would raise a girl. When she was born I was a little protective in my heart. I was put off when my daughter was 6 months old and got a doll for Christmas. I reasoned, "why does she need to be pigeon-holed so young." Upon further reflection I realized my daughter will have a functioning uterus one day and whether by chance or intention she could end up birthing a child. So by extension, socializing her with children and motherhood does have some utility. As she has grown up I have seen that she wants to be like her mother and other women. She wants to identify and assimilate aspects of female in her world. As much as we like to celebrate "diversity" the truth is, its really handy to be able to blend with your surroundings.
I am conscious that her experience as a girl will not be the same as the experience of a boy. I have experienced the life of a boy and I am aware of what it involves. I am dont know what its like to be a girl. I am looking to be her guide and learn as I go. Finding the parts of life that are common and seeking wisdom where our experiences diverge. I do not and will not hold back from her. She receives the same love and discipline as my boys. I will give the fullness of myself to her and teach her all that I am able to, not because she needs to be an empowered women, but because she is my kid. I don't really care about empowering her because if she can feels like she can take on the world, but doesnt know how to share shes going to be empowered by herself. If she doesn't learn how to respect and listen, the other stuff doesn't really matter. Life is really complicated and difficult. The journey is frought with decisions and all I want for her is a chance to try. If she decides shes going to be a stay at home mom, then cool (Thank you Kristen M for challenging me on that years ago and helping me realize that is ok). If she wants something bigger I will teach her that she needs to struggle for it because thats how life works. I wont hand her things and neither will life. She will experience all the highs and lows and she will own them all herself. It wont be me, or her mom, or men, or women or anyone.
My Autumn is adventurous. She scares me because she doesn't limit herself. She is so incredibly beautiful and I am grateful to be her Papa. She calls skirts "hulas." She says things like "you cant talk to the princess that way (refering to herself)." I am ill equipped to be responsible for something so important and something so precious. I share that responsibility and that joy as much as I can because I believe people add to the experience of your children and more is generally better. Happy belated birthday to my climber, my bean, my princess, my one and only daughter. I wont like to give you away. THe thought makes me sad, but I hope the person who you share life with is worthy of you and the fantastic potential you have stored in your bones. Papa is always in your corner and always cheering for you. I love you into eternity.
She turned 3....on July 8. To be honest, I have been thinking about this blog post for two months. I worried about it dear reader. I did not worry about you judging me, but I worried that I might not be clear. I wish to reflect on my journey of being a father of a daughter.
This might seem like I am making a mountain of a mole hill, but bear with me. You see, growing up I was exposed to a great deal of feminist ideology. I took (rightly in my opinion) a negative slant away about men specifically. I believed that women were the victims of men. I worried I was a victimizer because I was a man. This is not a healthy way to live nor is it accurate. We live in a world where women are afforded the protection of law and have an abundance of opportunity and while sexism is a thing (in both men and women) I do not believe the notion that it is systematic is helpful or practical.
So struggling with the ideas as I did, I was quite stressed upon learning our third child would be a girl. I wondered how I would raise a girl. When she was born I was a little protective in my heart. I was put off when my daughter was 6 months old and got a doll for Christmas. I reasoned, "why does she need to be pigeon-holed so young." Upon further reflection I realized my daughter will have a functioning uterus one day and whether by chance or intention she could end up birthing a child. So by extension, socializing her with children and motherhood does have some utility. As she has grown up I have seen that she wants to be like her mother and other women. She wants to identify and assimilate aspects of female in her world. As much as we like to celebrate "diversity" the truth is, its really handy to be able to blend with your surroundings.
I am conscious that her experience as a girl will not be the same as the experience of a boy. I have experienced the life of a boy and I am aware of what it involves. I am dont know what its like to be a girl. I am looking to be her guide and learn as I go. Finding the parts of life that are common and seeking wisdom where our experiences diverge. I do not and will not hold back from her. She receives the same love and discipline as my boys. I will give the fullness of myself to her and teach her all that I am able to, not because she needs to be an empowered women, but because she is my kid. I don't really care about empowering her because if she can feels like she can take on the world, but doesnt know how to share shes going to be empowered by herself. If she doesn't learn how to respect and listen, the other stuff doesn't really matter. Life is really complicated and difficult. The journey is frought with decisions and all I want for her is a chance to try. If she decides shes going to be a stay at home mom, then cool (Thank you Kristen M for challenging me on that years ago and helping me realize that is ok). If she wants something bigger I will teach her that she needs to struggle for it because thats how life works. I wont hand her things and neither will life. She will experience all the highs and lows and she will own them all herself. It wont be me, or her mom, or men, or women or anyone.
My Autumn is adventurous. She scares me because she doesn't limit herself. She is so incredibly beautiful and I am grateful to be her Papa. She calls skirts "hulas." She says things like "you cant talk to the princess that way (refering to herself)." I am ill equipped to be responsible for something so important and something so precious. I share that responsibility and that joy as much as I can because I believe people add to the experience of your children and more is generally better. Happy belated birthday to my climber, my bean, my princess, my one and only daughter. I wont like to give you away. THe thought makes me sad, but I hope the person who you share life with is worthy of you and the fantastic potential you have stored in your bones. Papa is always in your corner and always cheering for you. I love you into eternity.
Monday, July 1, 2019
Reflections on a birthday
So, I am turning 38 tomorrow. Little known fact, I have actually been 38 for the past 6 months. Let me explain. When you have kids the priority of your celebrations go down. There is a lot more invested in the celebrations of your kids. I rarely think about my birthday, so much so that if people ask me my age I genuinely have to think about it. As I was born in 1981 and it is 2019 that is 38 years difference hence I have been 38 for the past 6 months (based on the panic math I do when I am asked).
I had a revelation recently. My wife turned 40 and while I understand that this can be a difficult milestone, I did not see things that way. To me I felt like it was an opportunity to celebrate who she is and what she has accomplished. She has the life experience from years of highs and lows. She has friends, family and connections a plenty. These are great things and worth celebrating. There is a quote from the book of Isaiah that I love and that illustrates my point, "forget the former things and do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up, do you not perceive it?"
Dwelling on the past can make you miss the future. When new things pop up, its so easy to miss them when you are looking elsewhere. Who I was is not who I am. I am better than that person. I have more to offer those I love and my community. I am excited because I hold to an optimistic view of the future. That optimism is rooted in the belief that the future is full of potential good. It doesn't deny difficulties, but rather embraces them as part of the collective experience.
Happy Birthday to me I say. I wont fix my mind of missed opportunities or failed endeavours. I will wait with expectation to see what new circumstance comes my way. I will work hard to further the best interest of me and my family. I will be a better friend. I will be healthier. I will love more. I will take more time to express myself artistically. Not because I have done these things perfectly in the past, but because I choose to believe this is my year.
I had a revelation recently. My wife turned 40 and while I understand that this can be a difficult milestone, I did not see things that way. To me I felt like it was an opportunity to celebrate who she is and what she has accomplished. She has the life experience from years of highs and lows. She has friends, family and connections a plenty. These are great things and worth celebrating. There is a quote from the book of Isaiah that I love and that illustrates my point, "forget the former things and do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up, do you not perceive it?"
Dwelling on the past can make you miss the future. When new things pop up, its so easy to miss them when you are looking elsewhere. Who I was is not who I am. I am better than that person. I have more to offer those I love and my community. I am excited because I hold to an optimistic view of the future. That optimism is rooted in the belief that the future is full of potential good. It doesn't deny difficulties, but rather embraces them as part of the collective experience.
Happy Birthday to me I say. I wont fix my mind of missed opportunities or failed endeavours. I will wait with expectation to see what new circumstance comes my way. I will work hard to further the best interest of me and my family. I will be a better friend. I will be healthier. I will love more. I will take more time to express myself artistically. Not because I have done these things perfectly in the past, but because I choose to believe this is my year.
Friday, June 28, 2019
Which child I love the most
As kids there isn't much that makes sense. One thing you know is what you 'like.' Chores or games? Math or recess? You have clear opinions. In the travels of the child, invariably, they will turn to the parent and think, "I have opinions you must too, which kid do you love more?" I remember asking my mother this question and her answer was, "I love you all equally." I always hated that answer because it didn't really have an explanation. In my mind I asked, "explain how that works?" I never got that explanation. So, as this is a blog for my kids to know me, I will answer that question for my kids.
The reason most parents could not specify who you love is because parenting is part of your identity. What I mean is that from the moment of their birth I have been watching them and offering myself for their well-being. I have been there in every moment (sometimes in spirit) and have driven myself to make a world where they can be comfortable, safe and grow. Its taken me years to even see a personality, much less understand how I feel about it. I could no more love one more than I could chose between losing my pinky or my thumb. My children are a part of me. I carry their flaws. Their victories. Their weaknesses. I am their sentinel. I am the guardian. I am there to feed, fight and to love. So to answer the question of who I love, "You are each literally a piece of the most intimate and precious parts of me. You are my masterpieces. Formed by God, shaped by your mother and me. I cant say who I love more because I don't understand the question. I tell you I love you and I fail in language. The words I have don't reach past the surface and you need to go deep to understand my feelings. Go beneath the surface, reach deep and when you have arrived at a place that touches the feet of God himself and leaves you shaking like a leaf in response. There you have found my love for you."
The reason most parents could not specify who you love is because parenting is part of your identity. What I mean is that from the moment of their birth I have been watching them and offering myself for their well-being. I have been there in every moment (sometimes in spirit) and have driven myself to make a world where they can be comfortable, safe and grow. Its taken me years to even see a personality, much less understand how I feel about it. I could no more love one more than I could chose between losing my pinky or my thumb. My children are a part of me. I carry their flaws. Their victories. Their weaknesses. I am their sentinel. I am the guardian. I am there to feed, fight and to love. So to answer the question of who I love, "You are each literally a piece of the most intimate and precious parts of me. You are my masterpieces. Formed by God, shaped by your mother and me. I cant say who I love more because I don't understand the question. I tell you I love you and I fail in language. The words I have don't reach past the surface and you need to go deep to understand my feelings. Go beneath the surface, reach deep and when you have arrived at a place that touches the feet of God himself and leaves you shaking like a leaf in response. There you have found my love for you."
Thursday, June 27, 2019
Training wheels
Your biggest competition in life are often your siblings. I am no exception. My fathers family have the genetics of Goliath (tall and large) while my mothers family are more David (average height and lean). I got Dad's and my brother got Mom's. While in the modern world, there aren't tons of benefits for being big, there are certainly some dividends when you are younger. Most kids are insecure, but it helps when strangers stand in awe of your form. I can imagine growing up a little more average in height and lean in frame can be a little challenging. I think most men dispense with this, but when I was kid this was an issue between me and my brother. My brothers friends would often comment and ask if I could beat my brother up. I would brush it off to spare any unwanted hassle for him and by him. I loved my brother and I didnt want to make him feel "small."
Fast forward to the future. I have two sons of my own. My oldest is 7 and the youngest is 5. We have been trying to teach the oldest to ride his bike without training wheels. He has found the process very difficult and has fought us vigorously. He is introverted so its sometimes difficult for him to share how he feels in words. We have wonderful kids and it finally happened. Our son can ride his bike without training wheels.........its just not the one we had planned. Our youngest son decided that 5 (technically 4) was the age he would throw off his small circular over lords and ride free.
So, as I mentioned, we had been working on our oldest learning to ride. During this process, my wife found a used bike for our youngest that she thought would be better for him. I took the bike out of the van with him and I commented that this bike didn't have training wheels. He informed me that he wanted to ride it. He and I went into the front yard and we practiced a little bit of balancing. My wife is a better teacher of children than me, so she took over from there. Fast forward a week and I look outside and he is basically riding for short distances by himself. We celebrated by going to get slurpees from 7-11 on bike and he biked the whole way (2 km round trip).
As you can imagine, knowing the dynamics I had as a kid, a part of me was worried. Not wanting to take away from the success of my youngest, I was also aware that my oldest was listening intently. My wife and I lavished praise on him for his success and it was well earned. He has mastered balance with a very limited amount of time. A feet to be sure.
The eye of expectation turns to the elder Vogt. There is a spirit that asks, "why haven't you done it?" I know because I heard it as a kid. My brother would master something and I would anguish at my inability to master his new skill. I'm not opposed to pressure. People need motivations to do things and if its not destructive I am on board. Up until now he had been using approaches like, "Ill think about it," which I knew was his attempt to put it off. Through a heated conversation, he told me that he didn't want to take off training wheels. I told him he had no choice. He gingerly tried again and very quickly threw in the towel.
I understand my eldest. I understand his nature. He is practical by nature. He likes the predictable. He doesn't respond too much to his peers. If he can ride with his training wheels than why should he change methods? He is not a "faster" kind of kid. He doesn't care that other kids dont use training wheels. He really is just happy doing his thing. So now, part of my job is to make him unhappy. I need to force him into circumstances where he has to face his challenges. He doesn't see a need so I need to create one, even if that need is "so papa will leave me alone." Yet, there is also sibling rivalry and I believe this will act on him as well, perhaps more than what I can accomplish.
Fast forward to the future. I have two sons of my own. My oldest is 7 and the youngest is 5. We have been trying to teach the oldest to ride his bike without training wheels. He has found the process very difficult and has fought us vigorously. He is introverted so its sometimes difficult for him to share how he feels in words. We have wonderful kids and it finally happened. Our son can ride his bike without training wheels.........its just not the one we had planned. Our youngest son decided that 5 (technically 4) was the age he would throw off his small circular over lords and ride free.
So, as I mentioned, we had been working on our oldest learning to ride. During this process, my wife found a used bike for our youngest that she thought would be better for him. I took the bike out of the van with him and I commented that this bike didn't have training wheels. He informed me that he wanted to ride it. He and I went into the front yard and we practiced a little bit of balancing. My wife is a better teacher of children than me, so she took over from there. Fast forward a week and I look outside and he is basically riding for short distances by himself. We celebrated by going to get slurpees from 7-11 on bike and he biked the whole way (2 km round trip).
As you can imagine, knowing the dynamics I had as a kid, a part of me was worried. Not wanting to take away from the success of my youngest, I was also aware that my oldest was listening intently. My wife and I lavished praise on him for his success and it was well earned. He has mastered balance with a very limited amount of time. A feet to be sure.
The eye of expectation turns to the elder Vogt. There is a spirit that asks, "why haven't you done it?" I know because I heard it as a kid. My brother would master something and I would anguish at my inability to master his new skill. I'm not opposed to pressure. People need motivations to do things and if its not destructive I am on board. Up until now he had been using approaches like, "Ill think about it," which I knew was his attempt to put it off. Through a heated conversation, he told me that he didn't want to take off training wheels. I told him he had no choice. He gingerly tried again and very quickly threw in the towel.
I understand my eldest. I understand his nature. He is practical by nature. He likes the predictable. He doesn't respond too much to his peers. If he can ride with his training wheels than why should he change methods? He is not a "faster" kind of kid. He doesn't care that other kids dont use training wheels. He really is just happy doing his thing. So now, part of my job is to make him unhappy. I need to force him into circumstances where he has to face his challenges. He doesn't see a need so I need to create one, even if that need is "so papa will leave me alone." Yet, there is also sibling rivalry and I believe this will act on him as well, perhaps more than what I can accomplish.
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
A letter to my father
Every single person will do this who has lost a love one. They imagine a conversation with them in the present. I am doing this so that my children can understand the kind of son I am to my father and better understand me in the process.
Dear Dad
You have been dead for 21 years, 8 months and 10 days as I write this blog. Its funny because those numbers represent a lifetime. Who I am is very different than who I was when you left that day to go for surgery. I like to think I turned out okay. I have been married for 10 years and have 3 young kids. Its tough being a dad, but I love it. My oldest sons name is Azariah. He has my imagination & also my struggle talking to people. The middle child is Kerean. He is emotional. He will get angry and throw a toy car at you and start to cry after he realized he hurt you. He goes after what he wants. Autumn is my baby girl. She is the shadow of what will be an amazing woman. She is gentle, stubborn, sweet, given to great care and tenderness as well as more personality than I can handle. You would like her. You would like all of them.
I want to ask you some questions, but most of them can be answered on their own. Did you and mom really like each other? Do you regret anything in the past? Most of these would be a "yes." I just wish I had you in my life. Its so nice to have a relationship where you don't feel the weight of responsibility. I remember how I would sit & listen to you shoot the breeze with people & I felt so comfortable in your shadow. I guess when you died, I was forced out of that shadow. I had to engage with the world or run from it. I chose to engage, but it is profoundly difficult to reach out when your world is shattered. I know I would have had a much easier transition to manhood if you were here. I lament your death because I lament the lose of security and the lose of rest. I have had glimpses of rest, but not like that.
I am very intentional and conscious of how I father my children. I teach, I rebuke, I love my children & when the time comes I will let them go. I love their mom more than them, so they know their emotional supports are strong. I probably fail more than I succeed, but parenting is hard and I am learning as I go. You always seemed good at that or at least you tried. I know I parent with a flawed character, but I have and continue to apologize to my kids for my failings because they have to see an honest model of failure.I'm happily married. Marriage is complicated and it isn't always simple. I just don't always get it. I feel like we are one unit and I have spent the last 10 years figuring out how this unit works. Its weird and for someone whose natural inclination is to be isolated being married with children can be ....tricky. My life kind of revolves around them and it is more joy than strife. I recently realized that my kids are about the best thing I could ever do in this life. I think you said something like that to mom once upon a time.
I wish you were here. Mostly for selfish reasons. I can, have & will continue to get along fine without you. There are people who love me and a gracious God that backs me. I just would like another drive to the store with you, touch your hands & feel the gross warts, see the character of your hair, see your toothless mouth, feel your stubble and smell you. Even if I could though, I wouldn't be satisfied. I would want to take you from death and return you to a flawed world. I want my father back. I wanted you back for 21 years 10 months and 8 days. I keep your memory in a special place in my heart. Its is free from cobwebs and dust and I often return there when my sons tenderly embrace me and I relive a moment we had together. I wouldn't change the past. I just miss being in your shadow. Ill love you every minute until your leathery hand touches mine. I want my kids to do better than me and Ill do better than you. I will remember the moments and be glad for them. I love you so much Dad.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Measure of a Man
I came home from a long day of work and came home to a war zone. Toys scattered everywhere like shrapnel and my wife sitting in the midst of things like the brave & battle weary general. She informed me that, amongst the normal struggles, my eldest son had refused his duty. He had to empty out the dishwasher.
One of my favourite professors, when he talked to his students about writing about the future, encouraged them to determine what vision of the future they find least desirable. Perhaps I am morose, but this is a perspective that appeals to me. I have never been naive about the difficulties of life nor the need to strive, but understanding life through the lens of trials seems sensible to me. He goes on to say in his lecture that by exposing ourselves to difficult circumstances we exhibit new physiological features and literally become a new person.
So, as I sat across from him and went into dad-mode. I informed him, that he had a duty and that he was neglecting it. We all have a role to play and that he will have a role to play in the world and it was our job as parents to prepare him for that role. In the spirit of preparation, if I needed to get creative to make things difficult for him than I would-and I am a cane be VERY creative. The truth is that if I neglect my duties to my family, my job or myself I face very serious challenges. At this, he looked sullen and stomped out of the room and into the kitchen to do his duty.
I heard him wail. I went into the kitchen and he was crying while doing his job. I asked him why he was crying. He said because he didn't want to empty the dishwasher. I told him that there are good reasons to cry, but crying because you have work to do is not a good reason. I told him that the sooner he finished his job, the sooner he would be done it. At this point I left the kitchen to change from my work clothes.
When I came back, he had changed. He was quite comfortable in doing his work and was again his good natured self. As he finished up, I took him aside and I told him that I was proud of him for overcoming his feelings and doing his job. I told him that becoming a man is doing a series of uncomfortable things in the service of other people. He asked me what it was in becoming a woman. My answer was, "I don't know what it takes to become a woman, but I know what it takes to become a man."
My dear Azariah. I have attempted to teach him to be a leader. I have attempted to teach him responsibility and honour. I have lived with a strong sense of ethic throughout my entire life. My family, my extended family, the church, my schools- they all taught me the value of careful and thoughtful living. These are not sexy lessons but they are the strong tides that generally guide me.
I want my sons to be superheros, but superheros usually go through hell first. Procedures, bombs, & death all create heros. Sometimes all we need is the crucible of our emotions. Honourable, hard working people build stuff. They may not be remembered or celebrated, but they are the foundation on which future generations lay. I am deeply proud of these moments where my son can show his character by overcoming his own struggles and make the right decision.
As an aside, I will mention about my daughter. She is different than \her brothers. A different spirit. I will never deny any part of the experiences of my life and will open up as many doors as I can, but as I told my son-I don't know the journey of a woman. The reality is, I have tools for my sons and my daughter is an exercise in improvisation.
One of my favourite professors, when he talked to his students about writing about the future, encouraged them to determine what vision of the future they find least desirable. Perhaps I am morose, but this is a perspective that appeals to me. I have never been naive about the difficulties of life nor the need to strive, but understanding life through the lens of trials seems sensible to me. He goes on to say in his lecture that by exposing ourselves to difficult circumstances we exhibit new physiological features and literally become a new person.
So, as I sat across from him and went into dad-mode. I informed him, that he had a duty and that he was neglecting it. We all have a role to play and that he will have a role to play in the world and it was our job as parents to prepare him for that role. In the spirit of preparation, if I needed to get creative to make things difficult for him than I would-and I am a cane be VERY creative. The truth is that if I neglect my duties to my family, my job or myself I face very serious challenges. At this, he looked sullen and stomped out of the room and into the kitchen to do his duty.
I heard him wail. I went into the kitchen and he was crying while doing his job. I asked him why he was crying. He said because he didn't want to empty the dishwasher. I told him that there are good reasons to cry, but crying because you have work to do is not a good reason. I told him that the sooner he finished his job, the sooner he would be done it. At this point I left the kitchen to change from my work clothes.
When I came back, he had changed. He was quite comfortable in doing his work and was again his good natured self. As he finished up, I took him aside and I told him that I was proud of him for overcoming his feelings and doing his job. I told him that becoming a man is doing a series of uncomfortable things in the service of other people. He asked me what it was in becoming a woman. My answer was, "I don't know what it takes to become a woman, but I know what it takes to become a man."
My dear Azariah. I have attempted to teach him to be a leader. I have attempted to teach him responsibility and honour. I have lived with a strong sense of ethic throughout my entire life. My family, my extended family, the church, my schools- they all taught me the value of careful and thoughtful living. These are not sexy lessons but they are the strong tides that generally guide me.
I want my sons to be superheros, but superheros usually go through hell first. Procedures, bombs, & death all create heros. Sometimes all we need is the crucible of our emotions. Honourable, hard working people build stuff. They may not be remembered or celebrated, but they are the foundation on which future generations lay. I am deeply proud of these moments where my son can show his character by overcoming his own struggles and make the right decision.
As an aside, I will mention about my daughter. She is different than \her brothers. A different spirit. I will never deny any part of the experiences of my life and will open up as many doors as I can, but as I told my son-I don't know the journey of a woman. The reality is, I have tools for my sons and my daughter is an exercise in improvisation.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
The immortal father
So, I am blogging again. If I'm completely honest, it stems from the fact that my favourite game is down because of a technical glitch. So again, as per usual I beg your pardon for my time between my last writing. I have not forget about you and want very much for you to share the little glimpses into my family. Thank you for reading this and I hope that you can see into the world my wife and I have created for our children. Now, on to my stories.
I grew up imagining myself progressive, a feminist even. Yet I realized that my function to my family is a traditional male role and I have embraced it and what it means. My primary function is to provide for my family and my wife's role is to maintain our house. I certainly care for our house and she very much provides for our family, but our primary roles are quite fixed. It has been my realization that, though this is functionally necessary, allowing my primary role to define me comes with a cost. The idea being that women find their definition in the home and men find their definition in their job. When the job disappears (ex. retirement), many men seem to wither away, while women go on providing a role for a long time.
So, about my job. I work at a cell phone store & have done so about 10 years. This was not my vocational goal. I have 5 years of post secondary school and had great ambitions in that regard. I wanted to work in a world where people sought my opinion about deep profound ideas, but instead I help old people download facebook on their iphone. This is hyperbole of course, but people can sometimes make you feel like your as disposable as a water damaged cell phone. You can be as devoted, loyal and consistent and people can still shrug it off at their convenience. I am a sales person and not a professor. I don't imagine I will ever be a professor. Now what. Where do I go from here. I can change my situation. I can find a different job. I live 3 blocks from my work and about 2 blocks from my kids school. I earn more money than most professors. I may not be making the kind of impact I thought I would, but I certainly am compensated for the impact I do make. Yet what shall I say? Shall I put my great ambition on hold? Yes! Absolutely. At least for now. The reason for that are 7, 4 & 2. They are my opus. I pour into them. I play with them. I teach them. I correct them. I rebuke them. I treasure them. I do this like I do nothing else in my life. My wife and I are raising children that will understand respect. That will know how to express themselves. Thoughtful, capable & intelligent. Loving to all. Compassionate and capable of handling themselves with dignity. Of these qualities, wouldn't you want them in a friend? Wouldn't you want them in an employee, a teacher, a lover, a neighbour? What good can I do in this world that could possibly compare to the ripple effect that three well raised and well loved people can provide it. If I sell phones until my body expires, I would do it sincerely if it meant the bettering of my children.
Fortunately for me my job doesn't really matter that much in the big picture, but my fathering does. My struggle in this world is the lesson to my children that what really matters is the legacy of love and faith that I leave in them. Here is my conclusion on the matter- fathering well will extend my life and provide a beautiful legacy that my kids can carry with them.
So, other stories.
I was deeply grateful for having the opportunity to give someone a ride home. I had taken my kids shopping. As we were leaving, a man I was loosely acquainted with approached me. He explained his car battery was frozen and requested a ride home. He was 70 years old and it was minus 50. I obliged him. I took him with my sons to his house across town. As I got back into my car after helping him with his groceries, I explained to my sons that this was an example of caring for others like Jesus from us. My oldest understood and was excited for what we had done. Compassion is an important quality and I want my kids to understand it. I believe that the world is better if we have at least a slight concern for the well-being of others. My parents impacted me with their acts of compassion and I was grateful that I have opportunities to pass the lessons down. I want to raise agents of mercy because the world so desperately needs mercy.
My oldest is 7. He is getting some of these lessons. He is learning that he is accountable for his actions. He is learning we treat people based on our beliefs, not our feelings in the moment. It is really exciting because I am able to encourage him to be social, to be compassionate and to deal with his feelings. I hope these tools can allow him to skip through some of the struggles I went through in my life.
Lastly, we had a family gathering of my moms family. I used to dread these events, but as time has gone by and I have become more comfortable in my own skin I have changed my opinion. I had an interesting conversation with my uncle Ron. My Uncle Ron is a small framed and unassuming figure. He spent a number of years working for CBC in Winnipeg and has since retired and invests his time in various endeavours. It struck me as we talked at this gathering how much we had in common. He is a well-thought, well-educated man who conducts himself with dignity. He worked for many years and invested himself in his wife and kids. His kids are educated, stable and are building families. He loves Jesus and in the past when I was raising money for missions, he would appear with a sizable contribution. He shares my appreciation for tech, which is always fun. He is a little adhd, which I realized as he turned on and watched football highlights in the middle of our conversation. He expands his knowledge whenever he can. Uncle Ron- if your reading this- my Dad and Grandpa were the two men I admired most in this world. When they died I was crushed. I am deeply grateful to know that there is another person in my family I can value the example of. Thank you.
I grew up imagining myself progressive, a feminist even. Yet I realized that my function to my family is a traditional male role and I have embraced it and what it means. My primary function is to provide for my family and my wife's role is to maintain our house. I certainly care for our house and she very much provides for our family, but our primary roles are quite fixed. It has been my realization that, though this is functionally necessary, allowing my primary role to define me comes with a cost. The idea being that women find their definition in the home and men find their definition in their job. When the job disappears (ex. retirement), many men seem to wither away, while women go on providing a role for a long time.
So, about my job. I work at a cell phone store & have done so about 10 years. This was not my vocational goal. I have 5 years of post secondary school and had great ambitions in that regard. I wanted to work in a world where people sought my opinion about deep profound ideas, but instead I help old people download facebook on their iphone. This is hyperbole of course, but people can sometimes make you feel like your as disposable as a water damaged cell phone. You can be as devoted, loyal and consistent and people can still shrug it off at their convenience. I am a sales person and not a professor. I don't imagine I will ever be a professor. Now what. Where do I go from here. I can change my situation. I can find a different job. I live 3 blocks from my work and about 2 blocks from my kids school. I earn more money than most professors. I may not be making the kind of impact I thought I would, but I certainly am compensated for the impact I do make. Yet what shall I say? Shall I put my great ambition on hold? Yes! Absolutely. At least for now. The reason for that are 7, 4 & 2. They are my opus. I pour into them. I play with them. I teach them. I correct them. I rebuke them. I treasure them. I do this like I do nothing else in my life. My wife and I are raising children that will understand respect. That will know how to express themselves. Thoughtful, capable & intelligent. Loving to all. Compassionate and capable of handling themselves with dignity. Of these qualities, wouldn't you want them in a friend? Wouldn't you want them in an employee, a teacher, a lover, a neighbour? What good can I do in this world that could possibly compare to the ripple effect that three well raised and well loved people can provide it. If I sell phones until my body expires, I would do it sincerely if it meant the bettering of my children.
Fortunately for me my job doesn't really matter that much in the big picture, but my fathering does. My struggle in this world is the lesson to my children that what really matters is the legacy of love and faith that I leave in them. Here is my conclusion on the matter- fathering well will extend my life and provide a beautiful legacy that my kids can carry with them.
So, other stories.
I was deeply grateful for having the opportunity to give someone a ride home. I had taken my kids shopping. As we were leaving, a man I was loosely acquainted with approached me. He explained his car battery was frozen and requested a ride home. He was 70 years old and it was minus 50. I obliged him. I took him with my sons to his house across town. As I got back into my car after helping him with his groceries, I explained to my sons that this was an example of caring for others like Jesus from us. My oldest understood and was excited for what we had done. Compassion is an important quality and I want my kids to understand it. I believe that the world is better if we have at least a slight concern for the well-being of others. My parents impacted me with their acts of compassion and I was grateful that I have opportunities to pass the lessons down. I want to raise agents of mercy because the world so desperately needs mercy.
My oldest is 7. He is getting some of these lessons. He is learning that he is accountable for his actions. He is learning we treat people based on our beliefs, not our feelings in the moment. It is really exciting because I am able to encourage him to be social, to be compassionate and to deal with his feelings. I hope these tools can allow him to skip through some of the struggles I went through in my life.
Lastly, we had a family gathering of my moms family. I used to dread these events, but as time has gone by and I have become more comfortable in my own skin I have changed my opinion. I had an interesting conversation with my uncle Ron. My Uncle Ron is a small framed and unassuming figure. He spent a number of years working for CBC in Winnipeg and has since retired and invests his time in various endeavours. It struck me as we talked at this gathering how much we had in common. He is a well-thought, well-educated man who conducts himself with dignity. He worked for many years and invested himself in his wife and kids. His kids are educated, stable and are building families. He loves Jesus and in the past when I was raising money for missions, he would appear with a sizable contribution. He shares my appreciation for tech, which is always fun. He is a little adhd, which I realized as he turned on and watched football highlights in the middle of our conversation. He expands his knowledge whenever he can. Uncle Ron- if your reading this- my Dad and Grandpa were the two men I admired most in this world. When they died I was crushed. I am deeply grateful to know that there is another person in my family I can value the example of. Thank you.
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