the coconut husk

What street do you live on?  What part of town do you live?  Which neighborhood?  Common questions with known answers. Can name all the streets I lived on growing up.  Know the neighborhoods, still in touch with former neighbors.  Relationships that have endured over time.    Streets and neighborhoods are part of who we are; I have had many conversations where I have enjoyed going there with someone as they spoke about it, even though I have never been.  As many of you have read my blog posts and gone there with me, given the chance certainly I go there with you.   

Streets and neighborhoods also represent divisions.  Be it economics, ethnicity, religion; they are there.  Just name a street or neighborhood in the city/country you live and you likely have an idea of the demographics.  As I shared in an earlier post about being a TCK, growing up as a minority in a country that became home gave me experiences, relationships, and perspectives that I would never have gained otherwise.  What I learned was that when it came to getting to know others and forging relationships made through school, church, or neighbors, these divisions, akin to arbitrary walls, are broken down.     

As Easter Sunday approaches, have thought about how great it would be  to go and be somewhere where everyone comes together; barriers and divisions between people are broken down and we get to know each other and relate about things that matter to us all.  What would not matter are street names and neighborhoods in which we lived.  I know it when I see it and when I do, what a witness it is.  In fact, just saw it the other night. 

Here we go, March Madness is about to get underway.  It has been 30 years since Coach Jim Valvano’s NC State squad pulled off a miracle and won the National Championship.  If you have not seen “Survive and Advance” (ESPN 30 for 30) about that team, it is quite moving.   The names were familiar, and faces as well.  That image of Lorenzo Charles dunking Dereck Whittenburg’s shot to win it all will not be forgotten. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=puQvU4PBzhI

Though basketball brought them together, what I saw was former teammates and coaches from different walks off life never once mention their street or neighborhood, rather they laughed, put purposeful thought behind their actions, and were in touch with their emotions.  It was real.  Their authentic bonds were obvious, brought home at the end with Dereck Whittenburg looking at the rafters with tears rolling down his face as he thought about his coach, his friends, and what they all learned and experienced together.  What was also obvious was how much they cared for one another and loved their coach.  They were a reflection of him and as he said at his unforgettable 1993 ESPY speech before he died of cancer,

“To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.”

Thank you for letting me go there with you, guys.

Experience it myself each Sunday here in Richmond.  My church home is in the inner city, a multidenominational church where I worship alongside people of  different nationalities, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds.  Not named after a street, rather a timeless place.  Where we live and our ethnicities and have no bearing on how we relate to each other.  Our blood is red. In many ways reminds of my church home in Singapore.  Can’t wait to be there again next Sunday.      

With my pastor, can’t put into words what he has meant to me

There is a band that I listen to often that is the only Irish in me.  Their passion for their faith, love for their fellow man, and love for what they do with their gifts pauses me to think and moves my emotions.   They encourage me in my faith and make me realize “He set my feet upon a rock, And made my footsteps firm, Many will see, Many will see and fear.”*  It serves as a reminder that “Only love, only love can leave such a mark. But only love, only love can heal such a scar”**  

As Easter is celebrated around the world, a song that comes to mind for me is not heard in churches on Easter Sunday, nor can you find it in the hymnals.  It speaks to a place that I refer to with my kids where I look forward going, and they know exactly what I mean.  Inspired by a story about the streets of Belfast, Northern Ireland where a person’s religion and income are evident by the street they live on.  As the opening  crescendo plays and the guitar transitions in, I imagine the gates of heaven opening and a spectacular experience to come.  Every time I hear it, my emotions are moved. 

Seeing U2 play this in their home country of Ireland, I can only imagine what it will be like to go there, namely where the streets have no name.    I go there with you.

“And he departed from our sight that we might return to our heart, and there find Him.  For He departed, and behold, He is here.” ~St Augustine

Happy Easter and until next time,

Ed

* Lyrics from ’40’

**Lyrics from ‘Magnificent’

I’m a dad to three wonderful kids, two of whom are girls.  Having grown up with my dad, was not attune to the special bond between a dad and a daughter.  There is something about a daughter that adds another dimension to a man’s soul, it softens and adds tenderness and at the same time makes it more valiant and protective.   Their eyes can melt your heart.

No Electric Slide this time

I certainly got insights in high school. Some of my dates dads would greet me at the door. A firm handshake and a look right in the eye. I won’t forget and message received.  Also, thank you.  Now, any guys that ask my daughters out on a date can expect the same.

Seems each passing year I become more and more aware how fast each of my kids are growing up.  Could someone hand me the remote, I want to hit ‘pause’.  Does Scotchguard work?  It’s all too soon.

My youngest just turned nine this week, her birthday being two days shy of Valentines Day.  Half way to being 18.  When we are all together my mind does memory snapshots, and when I’m spending time with each.  I found it important to make a point to do just that when there are multiple children.

Her name is Zoe.  We have our snapshots and making more.  Gymnastics routines in the family room.  Watching TV while doing a handstand.  Doing scissor runs while opening the fridge (not running with scissors!). Bouncing up and down and talking at the same time; can walk and talk too.  Morning piggy back rides down the stairs to breakfast before school.  I can still pick her up.  Sleeps with her pigs still, Fuzzy and Rubere.  Drawing horses and more horses.  Riding horses and more horses.  Playing with horses and more horses.  Looking at cloud shapes and figuring out what they are.  Camping twice a year with other dads and daughters.

Time to go to the family room for practice

Father/Daughter Dances, we were at another one last weekend.  As I look at her now I think how this seems to be happening all too soon.   The clock is not near midnight yet, however certainly making its way.  I was thinking of a way I could capture something for Zoe for her birthday with a Valentine theme.   Also wanted to do something for dads and daughters.

Can we put her in the back yard?

There was a dad one night helping his two youngest daughters take a bath and get them to bed.  The girls were stalling, imagine that.  They were putting on gowns and he needed to get them in their pajamas.  Time to go to bed.  He had to do some work; he even refused to read them a story that night.

After walking out, he remembered how he had rushed through some moments in his oldest daughter’s childhood because of his career.  He now had the opportunity with his younger daughters (three adopted girls from China) to make sure that did not happen; to slow down.  He felt guilty and wrote a song to remind himself to cherish the moments he could.  Sadly, several months later, his youngest daughter died as a result of a tragic accident in their driveway.

The song then took on another message, namely life can change suddenly.  He did not sing the song for a while as it was quite personal, however felt that he needed to continue to bring hope to others.  He now does.  From one dad to another, thank you Steven Curtis Chapman.

And for my daughter Zoe,  I love being your Dad.  Same goes for your brother and sister.

Let’s keep having more times like these.

Thanks for reading.

Ed

Odds? I don’t care about odds

There are certain quotes that always seem to stick. “Never tell me the odds” is one that comes to mind. They can serve as a humble reminder of where you have been and can give you what can be called, for lack of a better term, ‘experience muscle’ to remain steadfast with courage and confidence to carry on.

Odds are an expression of relative probabilities and reveal doubt. There have been many quotes about odds and their nature, namely doubt.  Former Alabama Coach Paul ‘Bear’ Bryant:

“There is not a person alive who isn’t going to have some awfully bad days in their lives. I tell my players that what I mean by fighting is when your house burns down, your wife runs off with the drummer, and you’ve lost your job and all the odds are against you, What are you going to do? Most people just lay down and quit. Well, I want my people to fight back.” 

Single Dads (and Moms), had some awfully bad days through it all? I’m sure you have. Kids of single parents, had some as well? Been there and have written about it. TCKs, are you feeling disoriented having been uprooted (perhaps again) to a place unfamiliar in a country far, far, away that it might as well be another galaxy? I know that was my case integrating into a new culture. Through these days doubts will surface and odds seem daunting.

I never want to be told the odds. Never sought to understand them anyway. I understand doubts. They are natural and we all have them at times. What odds allow is for others to define you.  In reality applies more to the one doing the defining; they are in fact limiting themselves.

When Hall of Fame running back Emmitt Smith was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, he made a memorable acceptance speech. What was impactful was when he said “Never, never let others define you.” Odds do that, don’t they? Don’t let them.

“I know of no higher fortitude than stubbornness in the face of overwhelming odds.” – Louis Nizer

Never driven my 4Runner through an asteroid field. The guy pictured above has driven something quite similar through one though.  He doesn’t like odds.

http://starwars.com/watch/encyclo_never_tell_me_the_odds.html

“Leaders are visionaries with a poorly developed sense of fear and no concept of the odds against them.” – Robert Jarvik

Think Indiana Jones would agree.

As I wrote this post, it was during a great weekend of football with the NFC and AFC Championship games.  Think Baltimore Quarterback Joe Flacco, who has had many doubters over the last several seasons, knew and/or would pay any attention to the odds that Tom Brady and the Patriots were 67-0 when leading at halftime?  In other words, no chance.  Even if C3PO were on the sideline repeating that statistic in his ear,  Joe may have just smiled and said see ya later as he went back to work on the field.   Perhaps C3PO could repeat those odds to Linebacker Ray Lewis.  See what the odds are of him actually listening.

How about Colin Kaepernick of the SF 49ers?  An adopted child that spent his early years in Wisconsin before his family (he is the youngest of Rick and Teresa Kaepernick’s 3 kids) moved out west.  He received little attention from schools even though he was an exceptional athlete in football, basketball, and baseball.  Drafted by the Chicago Cubs in 2009, he decided to keep playing football.  On Sunday, his team was down 17-0 at one point.  Don’t think he cared much about the odds at that point.  With what he has been through and experienced, did not deter him in the least.

“”Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.” – Frederick Buechner

Some random reflections of odds serve as a humbling reminder:

• From last month’s post, what were the odds of those gifts not under the Christmas tree ever appearing?
• From November’s post, what were the odds for those families through their storms to have their purposes find and strengthen them?
• From an adventure in Asia, what were the odds of waking up to a Komodo dragon and now writing this sentence?

Some Asian wildlife, a Komodo Dragon

• From another adventure in Asia, what were the odds of having an unsecured backhoe of an excavator on the back of passing truck on the  jungle roads of Malaysia swing into your windshield?  Eyes open wide and no time to even think ‘uh oh’.  Next thing we knew, my Dad and I were staring out of same windshield into the edges of the jungle after having skid off the road.  We were still breathing.
• From being in the tough spot of a single parent and his son, what were the odds being told as a young teen needing reconstructive surgery life would be short and difficult?   Dad made the tough agonizing call to forgo it.  It was the right one too, despite the odds he was being told.

“Doubts and mistrust are the mere panic of timid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the large mind transcend.” – Helen Keller

I’m sure many of you can think of and have experiences where odds were not favorable, and wonder how you did it.  If I had to guess, you faithfully pressed on.  Get knocked down 15 times, get up 16 times.  It’s as if we are always living life and learning to fly.  What I found that summed this up well was:

“We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.” – C.S. Lewis

Grew up on 80’s music, and those of you reading this who did also, you know who you are.  Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were a popular band of the day.   There is a song that he wrote that speaks to living life, making mistakes, good times, bad times, getting beat down, getting up again, learning from experience, with joy comes pain.

Best for 2013.  Thanks for reading and until next time,

Ed

Put up the Christmas tree with my trio. Candle Lights in the windows.  Lists are made.  My youngest wants two horses (real ones) and thinks we can just keep them in the back yard.  Can’t help reflect looking through my kids eyes to the wonder of it all.

My Dad has shared his childhood Christmas mornings as a kid with me.  His parents put up everything on Christmas Eve and as he and his brothers woke up and went downstairs, their jaws would slowly open and they would ‘tan their tonsils’ so to speak in awe.  Christmas morning was magical and my grandparents I’m sure were excited to see their faces and exhausted at the same time.

One thing I got accustomed to in Asia was not having a Christmas tree; evergreens are not indigenous to the tropics.  Palm trees are.  However, my Dad would string Christmas lights from the ceiling in the shape of a tree and wrap garland all the way around.  Simple and yet creative.  Was not used to a white Christmas either, the weather forecast in Singapore is quite consistent: sunny, hot, and humid with strong chance of thunderstorms in the afternoon.  Over again, lah. My ‘Singlish’ (Singapore English) is rusty. A world away from my sibling, my brother’s experience was entirely different with my Mom.  I thought of them at Christmas.  One of the realizations I had as a child of a single parent was that the connection with the other parent is always there, no matter the distance.  Same goes for my brother.

As another Christmas season is upon us, I’m in awestruck wonder as a Dad, as a son, and as a brother.  For kids of single parents, and single parents, decided to share a Christmas story about how my relationship with my Mom has been restored over time, with some younger brotherly encouragement and anecdotes.

For those of you with strained/distant or non-existent relationships with your parents, children, or siblings, Christmas is a message of hope and my hope is this story will encourage you.

First of all, my Dad.  Recently came across something I wrote on July 22, 1973 to him from camp as a kid:  “I am glad I have you as a Dad. Much Love, Ed.”  Just as true today as it was then.  I’m reminded of a quote by Charles Swindoll:

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company… a church… a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past… we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you… we are in charge of our Attitudes.” 

You lived it, I saw it, thanks for that gift Dad.

My Mom and I shared my first seven years and I know she treasures every memory.  Mine are vague and thankful for pictures from that time.  Norman Rockwell drew pictures of families like that of my Dad’s, F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote about families such as my Mom’s.  No fault divorce was not an option for her.  In order to save herself, she had to pay for it with her oldest son.  Her heart froze as she faced a decision no parent wants to face, which child do you keep and which do you let go.  I was the one she let go.  Would come home from school, Mom is not there.  Dissillusioned, hurt, abandoned; all natural as you would imagine a seven year old boy would be experiencing.  Upon moving to Asia where I thrived with my Dad, all I had was just a few pictures of her.  I grew up without my Mom however knew we were connected.  At left is my Mom holding me at my first Christmas, courtesy of a good scanner.

I did not get to know my Mom until I was an adult, years passed.  It was something my younger brother encouraged.  Many times, the younger one is the insightful one.  In 1997 he wrote me a letter that  his heartfelt discussions with Dad helped him understand the storms and fog of our childhood and he encouraged me to do the same with Mom.  Easy to say, hard to do.  The road to heartfelt forgiveness is never easy.

My brother, Will.  We shared the same blood however our lives were torn apart and we were separated too soon.  Siblings are meant to grow up together and we can never recapture the time lost.  Robbed of so many memories that we should have.  The abandonment we both felt by the other parent is hard to reconcile.  We know we must not forget the painful lessons we learned and prevent any cycle from repeating.  We both learned how much our parents were hurt as well.  Wounds heal over time and a scar forms, if you look closely it is tougher and more resilient than what was there.  You can see from the picture to the right of me with a facemask with Will, my affinity for diving started early on in life.

My Mom was a public school teacher for 30 years, and in many ways it helped heal her wounds.  She went through a second marriage, shortly after the divorce from my Dad, that she knew was a mistake.  Towards the end of that marriage, it took a turn for the worse.

Sheep dogs are very protective of their herd, and Katie was no exception.  On summer visits to see my Mom and brother, Will and I would try to run away from her only to have her catch us and bite our heels to get back in line.  She was herding her sheep, as in us.  It’s effective and for those that have had a sheep dog, know what I’m taking about.  You will feel it.  Also will not forget opening my eyes and waking up to her looking right at me and I could not see her eyes, however panting with her mouth wide open.  Mouthwash would have helped.

In the middle of a summer night, my Mom and former Step Dad had passed the point of no return in their marriage.  I was awakened by my Mom crashing the bedroom door open.  What I saw when my eyes opened is etched in my memory. My Mom’s life was in imminent danger, as my former Step Dad had a gun to her head and an arm around her neck when she flipped on the light  and yelled to wake us up. The adrenaline was in full throttle as I tried to awaken my brother and look for the baseball bat that was in the room to go defend my Mom. I was racing to beat the sound I feared hearing, gunfire.

Katie was barking her head off and growling fiercely at my former Step Dad downstairs.  Next thing I know, neighbors are there and so are the cops.  Katie:  Will and I will never forget you.  If it were not for you being alert and protecting your herd that night, a different ending to this story was certain.  The relationship with my Mom would never have become what it is today.

That summer of 1982 came to an end and my Mom moved back to her hometown of Chicago.  That is when she decided to face herself and what I’m proud of is her courage to do so; a gift she gave to me, Will, and many others.  She also gave herself the gift of forgiveness, and I knew I had to get there as well.  My brother’s letter in 1997 coincided with my move to Chicago with a new job.  My Mom was in a healthy relationship and married to my Step Dad, now nearly 30 years.  Our homes in Rogers Park were in walking distance of each other and we spent alot of time getting through the coconut husk and understanding each other.  That is where and when I started to really got to know my Mom again.  The connection was always there, even though all I could do as a child was look at pictures every now and then a world away.  Now that we were together again, it was real.   When she let me go, the risk was our relationship would be gone and nothing more than superficial.  She knew she had to save herself, taking that risk, and by doing that we could have the relationship we do now. One that we could not have possibly foreseen the day her heart froze.

My brother is now a public school teacher and lives in Charlotte, NC.  My kids love their Uncle Will, always wanting to be around him and look forward to being part of his audience.    He and my sister-in-law have two children and though we did not grow up together, I don’t know where my life would be without him.   He always, and I mean always, has my back.  Our shared experience of growing up apart is certainly not something we would recommend and was due to circumstances we could not control, nor desire.  What we could do is what we are doing now, being there for one another, rebuilding our relationships with the other parent, and doing our part to not forget the painful lesson we learned that has strengthened our brotherly bond.  You are a great brother Will, thanks for being there.

As I look at the tree this year, and the presents my kids and I will open, I’m in awe at the gifts we don’t naturally look for nor find there.  They do not neatly fit down a chimney, and debris may be kicked up in the process, however they are there.

The gift of forgiveness I gave my Mom and myself for holding on to ‘stuff’ that needed to be let go.  The gift of strength, courage, resilience, and adventure that my Dad exemplified.  The gift of brotherly love (and shove) from Will.  The gift of time my Mom and I have spent together in adulthood both knowing that in the end it all turned out, not as we had planned, better than we could have imagined.  The gift of watching each of my parents grow in healthy relationships with their spouses of now 25+ years and relationships with my step families on each side.  The gift of Uncle Will to my kids as the brother they would rather spend time with; he’s cool Dad!  I can’t find these under the tree, they are priceless and true gifts indeed.

The excitement of Christmas morning may be affected by your circumstances.  It may involve not having a parent and/or sibling there and new, yet unfamiliar happenings are taking place. The absence is felt.  Regardless of circumstances, Christmas is the unforgettable message of love, redemption, and hope.  That was the case that silent and holy night in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas, Gloria in Excelsis Deo, and thanks for reading.

Ed

There was a painting in our Singapore home of a large rock surrounded by a rugged coastline being battered by ocean waves.  Think of the coastlines of  Hawaii, the British Isles, or parts of California along the Pacific Coast Highway. I remember asking my Dad what it spoke of to him.

Spoke to staying strong and carrying on…

We both spent alot of time in the ocean on our diving sojourns and know first hand currents get strong, and so do waves.  He conveyed that though the ocean waves keep pounding the rock and coastline, through it all, the rock just stays there and holds it ground.  Through the chaos all around, it represented strength to carry on.

Been in quite a few storms over my lifetime. Singapore had some of the most fierce thunderstorms I have ever witnessed. Vividly remember waking up in the middle of a school night thinking the island was under attack. Now living near the mid-Atlantic seaboard it is expected.   Won’t forget Hurricane Fran in 1996, Hurricane Gaston in 2004, and Hurricane Irene in 2011.  Just went through Hurricane Sandy.  Thankful for first responders, health care workers, and the kindness and generosity of neighbors.  After the storm passes there is the aftermath as loses are mourned and people press on through the day to day as hope begins anew towards recovering from it all.   

Ever see the movie (or read the book by Sebastian Junger) “The Perfect Storm”?  The storm was Hurricane Grace which became absorbed into what was called the Halloween Nor’easter.  A graduate school classmate of mine who was in the Coast Guard remembers that storm from October of 1991; told me that anyone who was there at the Coast Guard Academy in New London, CT will certainly never forget it.  It was a night they were putting lives on the line searching and conducting rescue missions to save other lives.   A true story and sad one as well, with a ‘morning after’ moment at the end.  God Bless them all.

The scene when Captain Billy Tyne (played by George Clooney) looked up and was blindsided by a wave a size of which he had never seen, nor wanted to face, he knew something was about to happen.  Time Froze.

The storm wave that froze time

During that moment, my mind jumped back to when he spoke calmly and passionately to doing what  he loves namely being a Swordfish boat Captain with fellow Captain Linda Greenlaw (played by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), who commanded the Hannah Boden which was the sister ship of the Andrea Gail.  (She was the last one to speak with Billy Tyne the night the Andrea Gail went down; also the only female swordfish boat captain on the east coast of the U.S.  and has authored The Hungry Ocean in 1999, The Lobster Chronicles in 2002,  All Fishermen Are Liars in 2002, and Seaworthy in 2010.) 

Billy Tyne had a purpose and a passion, and had found it (please excuse language at the end).

“The fogs just lifting. Throw off your bow line; throw off your stern. Head out to South channel, past Rocky Neck, Ten Pound Island. Past Niles Pond where I skated as a kid. Blow your airhorn and throw a wave to the lighthouse keepers kid on Thacher Island. The birds show up: black backs, herring gulls, big dump ducks. The sun hits ya, head North. Open up to 12 steamin’ now. The guys are busy; you’re in charge. Ya know what? You’re a * swordboat captain! Is there any thing better in the world?”

It is certainly admirable to find your purpose and passion and I certainly admire and applaud those who have.  However it is possible that through the storms of life and the fog that follows, there are times when a purpose finds you.

It is inevitable that storms in life will hit, when you least expect.  Akin to that wave, some will blindside.  A fog will follow.  As Max Lucado has written about the fog of a broken heart “…it slyly imprisons the soul and refuses easy escape.  It’s a silent mist that eclipses the sun and beckons the darkness.  It’s a heavy cloud that honors no hour and respects no person.  It  disorients…makes it hard to see the road.”  Vision becomes blurred and the future becomes getting through the night and making through the next day.  Whatever the case you will probably recognize this fog.  It could be betrayal,  a parent who left or passed away, death of loved one, a job loss that had cascading effects for your family, or keeping close to a loved one’s bedside during a time of need.

As I think about people in my community that I know, the reflections are humbling and sobering:

The Messick family that has become an extended family as I transitioned being a single Dad.  Rod Messick, devoted husband and Dad passed away suddenly in 2007 from cancer leaving a mother with 5 kids.  Though I never met Rod, there is no doubt to the influence he had on his family and he has encouraged and inspired me to be a better Dad.

A common sight, kids around Hattie Messick

The Shufflebarger family who lost their daughter, Ashlynn, two days after birth.  They received news that death would come early (she had a fatal chromosomal defect) during her pregnancy and they chose to keep the pregnancy, hoping for a miracle.  She came into their lives and they had 2 days to hold her close and love and care for their child.  Scott and I have lunch every now and then and he generously shares with me what he and his wife, Cindy, have gone and grown through.  (Cindy shares the experience and encourages others to look for hope through the pain and authored the book “Dancing in the Rain: Finding Joy in the Midst of the Storm”)  Their youngest child, Chase, has all their family’s initials in his name:  Cindy, Haley, Ashlynn, Scott, and Emma.

Scott and Cindy Shufflebarger, with Haley, Emma, and Chase

The Grote family who lost their 3-year-old daughter, Kristen Grote, in August 2004.  She was accidentally left in the car in the church parking lot on a hot summer day.  The Dad, Doug Grote has shared that “during this time nothing was of value…my daughter just died. Nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care about a degree. I didn’t care about a job. I didn’t care about relationships.”  To him, nights were the worst, because if he went to sleep, he would have to wake up and live through another day.  Doug is now a Director with Upward Sports and lives in South Carolina.  He and his wife, Dianna, are pictured below along with their children, Dayton and Declan. 

Doug and Dianna Grote

Dayton and Declan Grote

My neighbors, the Isabelle family, whose youngest son Mark was diagnosed with Leukemia at age 4.  In Mark’s short life to date he has experienced more pain and trauma than anyone could imagine.  As their neighbor I have witnessed him and his family face it with love, faith, and courage.

With the courageous Mark Isabelle

Many of us could never, ever imagine the storms they went through.  I’m sure others that are reading this can add to this list.  The storm and ensuing fog dashes hopes and destroys dreams.  It turns nights endless and futures from years to getting through Tuesday.

All the above have turned their personal storms into encouragement and hope for others; very apparent that their purpose and passions in many ways have found them.  Their experiences through the turmoil, rather than weaken, instead strengthened their faith as they carried on.  The Messicks help families during transitions and in need; one of the daughters that helped my family is now watching a family with four young children in our neighborhood as the mother has heart health issues and her energy levels make it very difficult to keep up with her children.  The Shufflebargers and Grotes are using their experience to encourage others to look for hope through pain and prepare for adversity.  Mark Isabelle is now 10 years old and his cancer is currently in remission.  Seeing him at the bus stop in the mornings I can’t help to notice his disposition, energy, and smile is certainly contagious.

All my kids played, and I coached, in Upward leagues for several seasons.  I was recently at the athletic fields where the football and soccer games were played. Kristen’s Garden is there (picture from below).  I’m moved every time I see it and pictures of her. In a recent correspondence with Doug about this post, he shared that he and Dianna stop by there whenever they are in town just to take it in as it was a bright endeavor during a dark time in their lives.  He also reminded me that choosing to look forward, and not just back, is a choice we all can make.  Thanks Doug. 

Kristen Alexandra Grote
“I Thank My God Upon Every Remembrance Of You” Philippians 1:3

I also would like to say that whatever storm and fog you are in, you can be sure that you are not alone.  Over the past few years as I transitioned to being a single Dad, I had what I called a ‘band of brothers’ with guys who had been there. The influence and difference they made has been immeasurable.   They were always, and I mean always, there for me as hands that were extended to pick me up and pull me through.  This year, some of us got together and started a group for other men going through similar trials now. It is akin to a teammate reaching out to pick you up when you have been knocked down and to keep going and stay strong.

…throw a wave to the lighthouse keepers kid on Thacher Island…

As Linda Greenlaw’s Swordfish boat, the Hannah Boden, steams out for another trip, without the Andrea Gail around, she recalls that  conversation with Billy Tyne about his purpose, passion, and love for what he did.  If I could use that scene as an analogy to carrying on as a Dad, here goes (voice sounding nothing like George Clooney nor looking anything like Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio either):

The fogs just lifting. Hug my daughters and my son. Head out to school and work, get past the goodbyes and looking in each others eyes, stories of Dad in school as a kid. Come home, homework, Montana to Clark in the front yard, touchdown.  Get in the car and go to practice, throw a wave to the neighborhood kids on the street.  Swim practices, gymnastics, horseback riding, basketball, watching my son’s team win it all. Dinner table, all together now.   Head to the beach, birds show up; pelicans, seagulls, egrets, sand pipers, my youngest names them…Bob, Betsy, Noodles, Freggly.  Camping weekends, Father/Daughter Dances, Canoeing and Fishing on Shenandoah. The sun hits ya, carpe diem each day.  Open up to ’em, you’re steamin’ now. The kids are smiling, looking to you to lead the charge. Ya know what? You’re a Dad! Is there any thing better in the world?

The song in the film by John Mellencamp is called “Yours Forever”, the chorus is “Tomorrow still holds out its hand to you”.   Ya know what?  It certainly does.

Until next time, thanks for reading.

Ed

Eighteen summers.  That is one way to look at it.  Eighteen summers with each of your kids through their childhood.  It is akin to being quarterback of the household as you move down field of raising them and look toward the end zone at the clock that keeps moving.  My son is now 14 and two daughters at 11 and 8 respectively.  Have not had much time to blog lately as been out ‘chasing the sun’ this summer and building memories that transcend time.  After we reach the end zone of their childhood, we will always have these summers.

There it goes, let’s go get it!

As a Dad, I have to keep up the chase.  I have learned (sometimes the hard way) it takes quite a bit of energy to raise kids, and many a night I have found myself at sheer exhaustion.  Summer days with less (or no) agenda and commitments other than each other are a welcome sight.  I have found it imperative to keep my energy level up for my kids sake and myself so I am sharp.  So, stay strong Dads!

For kids of single parents, my experiences have taught me to chase authentic bonds with each of your parents and close friends.  The time summer allows is not the only time for pursuit of your dreams and passions.  Also, there will be times where you will look for something you can’t quite see or understand, don’t be discouraged.

The chase may seem cloudy at times, however the sun is there…

I was not close to my Mom as I was with my Dad due to circumstances and being on the other side of the world.  The years and summers went by and got to the end zone of my childhood not knowing my Mom that well.  However as an adult, and as we got through the coconut husk, I got to know and appreciate her for who she is and what she went through.  We are closer than ever now and I understand much more.  Still close to my Dad as I have always been.

In whatever circumstance you face, never give up the chase.

For this blog thought it would be best to put together a collage of summers past (including this one) for my trio.  As the school year begins and the sunsets on another great summer for us, thanks for being the great kids you are.  It is a pleasure being your Dad.

Will be waking you all up for the school bus.  I know that snooze button is tempting.

A song that I can’t live without, and with which I identify is ‘Solsbury Hill’ by Peter Gabriel.  In fact, ask me what are the few songs I would need to have on my iPhone (or record player, ha ha) on a deserted island and it will be one of them.  Would even listen to it while getting through coconut husks; it would be appropriate.  As for some of the other songs I would need to have, the clue is the only Irish I have in me.

My Solsbury Hill this past weekend on the Shenandoah River

The lyrics of the song stress an uncertainty of a future without his former bandmates and transitions into excitement towards what lies ahead (e.g. his heart’s “boom boom boom”).  Gives me goose bumps every time.

In terms of thinking what to get my Dad this Father’s Day, the usual came to mind.  Tie?  Cufflinks? Well, that used to come to mind when he wore them.  Shirt and Short combinations that don’t match?  Tuxedo shirt so he looks dressed up while just wearing a t-shirt?

The more I thought about it, how about spending time getting through a coconut husk? Sounded great. Certainly technology has enabled communication to thrive through various channels.  When my Dad was communicating with colleagues past, the Instant Messaging of the day was in the form of a telex.  

Seeing as we did not have blogs when I was growing up,  thought that sharing our experiences and insights to support and encourage other single Dads, kids of single Dads (and Moms) and Third Culture kids would suit well.  The pages on my story and about the coconut husk provide context and mission going forward. 

Happy Father’s Day Dad!  I was certainly blessed and our adventures together certainly defined much of who we are.  You have certainly been a Dad to me in every sense of the word.  As for the coconut husk, time to go through some more and share it with others.   

 With my Dad getting ready for a dive off Malaysia in South China Sea

With my Dad at Pulau Rawa, Malaysia in 2006