2 Years In

2 years ago today 2 little boys arrived at my house.

They’re a mess. They’re a handful. They’re knuckleheads. They’re sweet as can be. They’re monsters. They’re such a joy. They’re amazing little people. They’re invigorating. They’re exhausting. They’re my boys.

I have raised a lot of boys in my life. But… I was a much younger man the last time there were toddlers and preschoolers in my house. I’m feeling every minute of my 51 years plus a decade or two extra.

I was well-trained for the work I’ve been doing for two years with these boys. But it’s so much harder than I could have imagined. I’ve got an incredible support system. But it’s so much lonelier than I would have thought it would be. I have the best partner ever in this full-time job. But some moments I feel like I have to carry the whole thing myself.

I have blown it so many times. But every one of them was an opportunity to teach these boys the most crucial lesson: every man makes mistakes, but a godly man admits it and tries to make it right quickly.

One of these boys has a very hard time when he’s not the first or the best or the most special. If it looks like he’s not going to win, he is very much inclined to quit. I can relate to that. In my own ongoing journey of growing, it’s so easy to give up on a day or a week or a month or a year because I’ve just blown it so badly. It’s hard to re-frame the struggle to simply try to make a better next minute or hour.

But there is so much to be said for simply keeping on.

Even as I see on the horizon my time in this role coming to an end, I’ve made a promise to these boys since the day we met them. “No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always love you – no matter what!”

Last weekend we made a pretty special memory. Since the day they came to live with us, the boys have been fascinated with my wife’s display of race medals. She’s completed a number of half marathons and 5k races and a couple of marathon relays and such. (I have a collection too, but it’s not as extensive as hers.) So we signed up (all 4 of us) to participate in the Kids Marathon with the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon so that they could win their own medals.

We logged a lot of miles over the last 2 years. The plan for this event was that we log 25 miles independently leading up to the event and then complete the last 1.2 miles on the course.

Saturday morning these boys and I took off running together—not fast, not hard, just running—and ran the whole course, all 1.2 miles of it, without stopping to walk or rest or anything. And we did it together. That’s the deal. That’s what I stepped into 2 years ago. I committed to keep going with them until we cross our finish line.

On Saturday, when we rounded the last turn and saw the finish line about a block away, I said, “There it is, boys! Let’s finish strong! Run hard!” And they took off and left me behind. The little one looked back at me over his shoulder just before reaching the finish line, giant grin on his face, and then turned and blazed on across. The older one was right on his brother’s heels. And I was finishing my race with tears in my eyes with the joy of seeing them run well.

Right now my race is to help them learn to just keep going. Soon another will step in a take up the coaching mantle and I will move to the sidelines as the loudest, proudest, most familiar voice in the great cloud of witnesses cheering for their success.

It doesn’t matter where you start. It matters that you keep going.

One day maybe my little boys will read this and know how incredibly proud their Papi is of them. My hope is that they will not be surprised, just reminded.

As we move forward in our transition journey, please pray with me that these boys will only gain momentum in running toward the great plans our Father has for them.

I’m 2 years in… and trying to finish well.

What’s Good for the Goose

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, or so the saying goes.

But what about the goslings?

This idiom seems to express that what benefits one should benefit another or that the right thing for one is right for another.

A goose (in case it is unclear in your understanding like it was in mine) is an adult female and a gander an adult male. The offspring of these creatures bears a term appropriate to their downy cuteness—a gosling.

Bear with me for a moment as this is no paltry exploration of poultry etiquette. It’s far more serious than that.

I’ve had a rather close seat at the table for a situation in which a couple of cute little goslings have been taken under another pair of wings so the goose can get her nest in order. There are big feelings and big plans and no small amount of noise… but still no real nest. And it seems the time may be drawing near to close the gate of opportunity for this particular goose to be reunited with these goslings.

Continue reading What’s Good for the Goose

Work Song: A Resurrection Story

I don’t know why.

I just love this song.

I suppose it’s because it sounds a lot like me in some ways.

Hozier’s “Work Song” is a strange piece of music. I suppose that’s Hozier’s thing. But it takes a subtle rhythmic grip on me.

But the lyrics are a mixture of dripping sweetness and grave self-awareness.

My baby’s sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin’ me
I was three days on a drunken sin

You might want to give it a listen.

That unique juxtaposition is part of what attracts me. The absurdity of some of the claims rival the most trite of love songs. When you consider the chorus, you see the hyperbole that simply underlines the depth of the love he is striving to express.

When my time comes around
lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I’ll crawl home to her

You hear these words and you know that it’s a deliberate overstatement of the reality it’s meant to express.

But there’s something deeper here that stands out to me that I suspect was richer than even the lyricist had intended. The idea that this human love can endure even the separating chasm of death is a stretch even for a dreamer like myself. But the notion that there is a love deep enough to overcome the grip of the grave is not simply a stretch.

It’s truth.

As a follower of Jesus, I understand that Jesus was God in the flesh. God came near and lives the perfect life that none of us could possibly live. Then Jesus lay His own body on a cross to endure the penalty of death that you and I deserve because of our selfish hijacking of our life from the One who made us for Himself.

Jesus’ lifeless body was placed “in the cold dark earth,” (to borrow Hozier’s expression). But, in something so very much more than an expressive dramatization, Jesus did rise from that grave.

But there’s more. The Scriptures unfold for us the plan for Jesus to return some day and gather His beloved, His Church, to Himself and take us out of this mess.

I know that this was probably not on Hozier’s mind when he penned these lyrics, but he is overstating a love that, in his human brokenness (just like the rest of us), he wants to be true—that he could crawl right out of the grave to return to his beloved. But, as I hear these words, my mind is drawn to the promise of the One who died for me. Because He died and conquered the grave for me, out of His incredible love for me, is preparing a place in His own presence for me.

SO… in a very real way, when my time comes around and my body is placed in the cold, dark earth, my spirit will fly on home to my Beloved. And then one day my body will join—having been instantly transformed to be like Jesus’ own glorious body—to spend forever in a state of everlasting wonder and peace.

But the wonder of all of this is not even the overcoming of the grave. In fact, the second verse of Hozier’s work paints a picture I want to draw to your attention.

Boys when my baby found me
I was three days on a drunken sin
I woke with her walls around me
Nothin’ in her room but an empty crib
And I was burnin’ up with fever
I didn’t care much how long I lived
But I swear I though I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did

Hozier expresses here a picture of what I believe is the greatest wonder in all of the Story. It is the wonder of grace.

Just like his description, my Beloved, my Savior, came to my rescue when I was wallowing in the gravity of my sin. When I accepted His help, all of the mess, all of the sin, all of the self-absorption was washed away.

It wasn’t that I was worthy or even worth it. It sure wasn’t that I was good enough. It was entirely out of His own character. He gave me a new life that will not end in a grave. It’s going forever beyond that.

No grave can hold my body down.

I’ll be raised to be with Him.

Now… I think this is a great song. But it’s what it points me to that strikes such a chord in me. But, at the same time, it makes me think a great deal about the most powerful earthly gift I’ve been given—my partner, my helper, my refuge here in this world. And when Hozier sings about crawling home to his love even out of the grave, I get it. I’m that kind of crazy in love with my girl too.

But that love was a gift with a higher purpose. It was given me to help me see here a glimpse of the more wondrous, more powerful, everlasting intimacy for which we were made.

That makes me want to simply hold her close and give thanks.

I think I shall.