Fifth-Grade Curt

Fifth Grade Curt
I suspect my identity crisis may have started with the school carnival picture booth. I hate that I looked better in the dress.

I had an identity crisis when I was in 5th grade.

I was a good boy at home.  My parents adored me. I was a joy to my Sunday School teacher, Ms. Lilly Green.  I was a blessing to my grandmother, Freda.  I was a good friend to many.  I was a great older brother (but let’s not bother asking the rest of the family about that, okay?).

But in school, I was a holy terror. I was a pest to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Grimes.  I was obnoxious to my English teacher, Mrs. Cross.  I was untrustworthy to my math teacher, Mrs. Keister.  However, I was scared of my science teacher, Mr. Zeigler and so he had my full attention.

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Time Stands Still

I hIMG_20160407_162050ave a thing for clocks.  You can ask my wife. You can question my daughter. My sons will fill you in on the truth. I love a good clock.

The louder it ticks, the happier I am.

The greater the ring of the chime, the more joy I experience.

Over the years I’ve gathered a coo coo clock from the Black Forest of Germany, and added a beautiful banker’s clock in my office, and my best timepiece is a work shop ticker made from a circular saw blade.

The traditional clocks require attention and maintenance if they are to fulfill their purpose. They need regular winding. They need dusting. In short, they need a little love on a daily basis.

So, you can imagine my chagrin when I discovered the clocks were all stopped. No ticks. No tocks. No magical hourly chimes. The most troubling revelation came when I started counting back the days to when I’d last wound the spring and pulled the chain.  More than a week had passed and the clocks paid the price of my negligence.

Most distressing of all, I realized that my desire to succeed at work, move my job to the next level and prove myself to my company and my co-workers, took every spare minute of my time. Early mornings. Late nights. Weekends. Work and more work. Every spare hour was used to get the job done and yet, there was always more to do and never enough time to get it done.

Ironically, my lack of time resulted in my inability to accurately keep my time keepers functioning fully. And if the clocks on the wall suffered because of my out-of-control work schedule, packed to the rim and painfully full, what else declined in my business and distraction? Did I fail to love my family well, just as I failed to tighten the springs on the Banker’s Clock? Did I fail to listen intently, just as I failed to pull the chain and weight on the coo coo?

My need to make the most of every minute to move my career forward resulted in the loss of the most precious commodity of all: Time dedicated to those things that matter even more.

Today I wound the clocks for the first time in weeks. While I can’t turn back time, or regain that which is lost, I can certainly count every minute moving forward, making the most of every precious and fleeting second that remains.

149.5 and Counting

2015-01-01 09.15.54I’m going to live another 25 years.  This is according to the 2012 CDC Mortality report.  Oh, sure, I realize I could die earlier or later but I’ve always been proud of the fact that I’m a fairly average guy.  So, if I stay true to the average, I’ll live to be 76-years-old.  That’s 25 years from February.  I just penciled it in on my Google Calendar and decided to make some plans for the big day.  Specifically, I don’t want to go out with a whimper. I want to go out on top of my game and in top form.

As a result, I’ve decided that I need to get some things in order.  I need to get my life in shape.  I need to get some things done. I wouldn’t call this a “Bucket List” as much as a “Get Your S–t Together List”.  For instance, I can’t imagine being over-weight for the next 25 years.  I want my hair to be just right.  I have so many books that I need to read.  I have things I need to tell my nieces and nephews, my friends, my family.  I have skills I need to perfect and talents I need to hone. I want a tattoo of an otter eating a clam on my left calve.  You know, the important things.  And twenty-five years isn’t that long, so I’d better get busy.

I thought I’d start by making the good things of life an integral part of my being; like eating good cheese, tasting fine wine, appreciating classical music, and understanding The Blue Man Group.  This way, I’ll carry these skills, qualities, and perfected characteristics with me to the grave.

I’ve always heard it takes 30 days to form a habit.  So, given the 25 years remaining in my life, at one habit a month (minus the last month when I’ll be busy dying), that allows for 299 new habits to be formed and in place by the time they put me in the ground.

The problem is that new research (How are habits formed: Modelling habit formation in the real world. Lally, et al) indicates that habit formation isn’t cut and dry.  It can take as little as 18 or as many as 254 days to form a habit.  On average, it takes 66 days to form a habit for most people.  This means that my goal has to be paired down to a mere 149.5 habits acquired before I die.  I’m only going to be half as great as I’d hoped on the day they finally pull the plug.  But that’s okay…I can live with that…actually, I can die with that.

Also, Lally’s research reveals that some habits are easier to put in place than others.  This makes sense.  For instance, if I decided to wear only polyester for the next quarter of a century, I simply need to replace my wardrobe by shopping at GoodWill, requiring only 7 shopping days and a $42.35 investment.  Easy.

However, if I want to learn how to Mountain Yodel as perfectly as Roger Whittaker, we’re looking at many 10’s of hours of practice and some significant financial resources just to get to the Swiss Alps, let alone the cost of Lederhosen.  While I have great aspirations, I’m also a realist; specifically, I realize that the Mountain Yodel thing is nothing more than a pipe dream, even though I’d look great in Lederhosen.  I’ve already started on the polyester wardrobe but this may not take me in the direction I ultimately hope to go (the same with the Blue Man thing).  In short, I need to create realistic goals and work diligently to achieve them.

Therefore, I’ve started a list of important habits to form that will pay big dividends and make my life happy and whole for my remaining 25 years.  So far I have only fifteen items on my list but it’s a work in progress.  Heck, I have 66 days between habits to come up with a few more.  Why rush it?  Here are my first 15:

  • drink 64 oz of water a day
  • Become the crazy uncle that everyone always talks about (start with the hair:  note picture above)
  • read 30 minutes a day
  • solve the problem of world hunger by feeding one person a day (may take longer than 66 days)
  • pray 30 minutes a day
  • write 500 words a day (submit to 12 writing competitions by end of year)
  • eat more fruit
  • work on art 30 minutes a day – learn to paint and draw more than cartoon faces
  • 100 sit ups every morning
  • 20 push ups every morning
  • walk 2 miles every day
  • research recipes and make one amazing type of food a week (Julia Child’s style) – start with banana bread
  • say kind words or nothing at all
  • practice silence & solitude without falling asleep
  • work in the yard every day for 30 minutes

You may have more than 25 years remaining in your life, or you might have fewer.  Either way feel free to join me in adding habits that transform.  Who knows, perhaps if we all strive to be better people before we die (or at the very least becoming the crazy aunt or uncle), we’ll be happier both in the end and along the way.  It’s worth a shot.

Star Gazing

17991487168I believe the soul is the very being of who you are.  It is the essence of your existence.  It is the principal of your presence.  It matters more than anything…and I mean, more than ANYTHING.  More than your job, more than your house, more than your car, more than your marriage, more than your family, even more than your dog.  And, if this is true, and I’m just thinking out loud, but if this is true…why do we waste time on things that do not feed our soul?  Why do we invest in things that distract us from becoming who we are truly meant to be at the very center of our spirit?

Why don’t we create a space in our life, our home, our work, our commute, and our relationships that feeds this soul, this part of us that will move from this world to the next even as our bodies lie rotting in the grave?  Why instead, do we seek to entertain and numb the senses?  Why do we stress about the money and the drive and the work and the bills and the, and the, and the?  Why don’t we look for ways to renew our soul, to feed the very core of our beings?  Why don’t we seek solace?  Why don’t we pursue purpose?  Why don’t we want wisdom?  Why don’t we ask for answers?

As I write this, I am attending a day-long personal Advent retreat.  I am sitting alone in a cloistered room in the upper level of this three-story, turn-of-the-century home studying the Christmas story and the Wise Men who so committedly pursued the star in the sky in order to see a king in a stable.  It was their purpose.  It was their passion.

This amazing home and the time “away” has giving me the opportunity to reflect on the “Stars” in my own life; those things which guide me into the presence of God.  They may be people, events, places, or even experiences.  And to be honest, as I’ve pondered this idea and searched for the guiding light of my life, I’ve realized that, sadly, I have very few.  Or rather, I am aware of very few: I suspect the stars are there but I’m simply unable to see them clearly.  I’m too distracted by the blinding glare of the false illumination in my world.

I am reminded of our trip to Yellowstone Park in 2009.  We were driving from one end of the park to the other and because of the heavy traffic and the great distance, we found ourselves shy of our destination very late at night in a high plateau in the park. There were no cities, no street lights, and no other cars for miles.  We were there, alone, in the darkness.  We stopped the car and turned out all the lights and sat on the hood, looking up into a sky that was unlike any I’d ever seen before.  Without man-made ambient light to limit our vision, we were able to see stars in a way we’d never seen them before.  The clarity and intensity of those heavenly bodies was breath-taking.  They spanned the night sky and left us at a loss for words, in awe of their scope and grandeur.

As I think about the search for stars in my life that leads me, I realize that there is no time in my life when I am not blinded by the ambient distractions a busy world.  Understand, I don’t blame anyone but myself.  I’ve erected the lights.  I’ve cultivated the distractions.  I’ve created the lack of space and time for careful observation and sky gazing.

The sad truth is that I fail to carve out time that is purely committed to this endeavor.  Instead, I fill my hours with television, movies, busy work, worry and games – as many distractions as possible, diversions of every kind.  As a result, I fail to feed by soul, exercise my body, and manage my physical, emotional, and spiritual health.

And so, it begs the question:  What would I need to do to renew my soul on a daily basis?  What space do I need to create that will allow me to find peace, discover grace, and feed my soul?  And if you are like me, and I suspect you are, what do you need to do?  What space do you need to create?

Let’s be honest; when is the last time you truly looked at the stars?

One Picture Too Many

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A wind-blown walk along Yellowstone Lake, July 2009.

I’ve been accused of pointing the camera into too many faces and taking too many snapshots.  Some have mocked my shutterbug fascination.  My neighbor wonders why I keep taking pictures of my backyard, close ups of my flowers, “artsy-fartsy” photographs of my tomatoes and lettuce.

I just thought they were jealous.  No one understands that art takes work.  Great pictures require time, patience, a good eye, and an artistic flare.  I thought this with every heckle, jeer and taunt.

Until last week.  It was last week that I realized I might have a problem. In an effort to enter the 21st century, I decided to start using the “Cloud”.  While no one really knows what the “Cloud” is, it seems to be all the rage.  Never one to be left out of new technological fad, I decided to move my file folders full of photos to the “Cloud” and free up some space on my hard drive.

Before I give you the shocking details, I just want to outline a few of the facts:  1)  I’ve been taking pictures with my Olympus 35mm since 1991.  2) Before that, it was a little 110 mm camera or disposables from the drug store. 3)  These pictures were expensive to develop and print and there were many years when we would have a drawer full of film rolls awaiting a significant financial investment and a brave trip to the photo department at CVS.  4) This never stopped me from TAKING the pictures. 5)  I took LOTS of pictures.  6) We just didn’t see the results until a decade or two later.

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My first digital photograph, 2004.

We welcomed our first digital camera to our family in 2004 and it revolutionized the way we (I) took pictures.  Gone were the days of 36-frame rolls that could be wasted with one accidental opening of the back of the camera.  Gone were the outrageously priced processing fees.  I could point and click for hours.  The only limitation was the size of my memory card and the battery life of the device.

Today, I have an electronic Olympus that utilizes my original lenses with a 32 Gb flash drive and a 24-hour battery life (and I have three batteries charged and ready at all times).  There is no end to the picture excitement I can create.

And this is my problem.  Between shutter-finger reflexes, my digital camera and my ability to scan into our system every print picture taken, I have amassed quite a bit of digital data and enough photography to bring Kodak back from bankruptcy.  When it came time to move my beautiful works of art over to the “Cloud”, I discovered that I had a collection of photographs that exceeded 48,000 images.

I’ve crashed my Google Drive multiple times trying to move this mass of Kodachrome over to my space.

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A night on the Circle, downtown Indianapolis.

But here’s the problem:  What picture do I delete?  Sure, there is an occasional random shot of my shoe or a bad picture of someone with their finger up their nose but even taking those goofy moments into account, how can I delete my babies?  And where do I start?

Getting great pictures requires taking a lot of average pictures in the process.  I just never thought that great art would require these kinds of hard choices.

Water Off A Duck’s Back

Duck on a RockMore and more, I believe that all we need to know about life, we can learn from the birds.  For instance, did you know that ducks are waterproof?  Really.  But more on the at later.

First, let’s talk about how hard life can be and how people can be very mean.  It’s true.  You know it’s true.  Don’t deny it. There are days when you walk out of your office, church, school, or home and wonder if you can ever return.

People say hurtful things.  They relish in the painful look on your face.  They search for ways to stab at your heart and wound your spirit.  I don’t know why.  I can only assume that their own pain must require this kind of pitiful response.  But it’s sad.  It is sad for them and for you.  Living in this atmosphere, day in and day out, can become debilitating and life-threatening if we don’t protect ourselves.

Here’s were the duck comes in:  Did you know that there is a special gland located near the base of their tails called the Preen Gland?  This amazing adaptation produces a special oil that the ducks use to coat their feathers.  This oil, once applied to the surface of the feather, creates a protective barrier that keeps out the harsh water and life-draining cold temperatures and helps trap in their own life-giving body warmth.

But here’s the thing:  The duck has to spend much of its time preening to benefit from this protection.  Otherwise, the water world in which they live will kill them.  Without preening, the water will seep into the downy feather layer and make it impossible for them to survive.  Their own self-maintenance saves their lives.

When is the last time you protected yourself from the constant barrage of negative statements and hurtful comments?  When did you last take some time to prepare your outer shell, preen yourself, oil your feathers?  Does the constant barrage roll off your back or does it seep in from time to time?

When did you last spend five minutes in solitude?  When was the last time you self-spoke words of encouragement?  How long has it been since you spent time looking at art, walking in the woods, knitting, laughing, singing at the top of your voice?  Pet a cat.  Walk a dog.  Eat a good meal.  Drink a fine wine.   Smell a beautiful flower.  Hug a good friend.

In short, preen.  Take time to take care of you and in the end, the vitriol of others will simply roll away, like water off a duck’s back.

 

Don’t Forget To Smile

The Happy CoupleYou might have had a stinky day.

You may have suffered a terrible blow.

The rain may fall and the wind may blow.

Whatever you face, whatever happens in your world, whatever the day brings, there is no reason you cannot smile.

Are you happy?  Perhaps not.

Are you overjoyed? Doubtful.

Are you singing a happy tune?  Tone deaf.

But you can always smile.

Raise your eye brows.  Nod your head.  Show some teeth.  Make the effort.

Because someone may take your picture and 70 years later they will wonder, “What in the hell was wrong with them?”

 

Changing History

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Abraham Lincoln, ranked No. 5 in the 100 most influential people of history.

I often wonder about the mark I will leave on this planet when I’m gone.  It is common for us to be interested in our legacy.  We want to stand out.  We want to make a difference.  We want to be unique.  We want to be known for something.

But the truth is, you are only one in 7 BILLION people living on the planet today.  A 2011 estimate suggests that at least 107 billion people have populated this planet over the course of all recorded time.  Of those, only a rare few have made it into the pages of your 5th grade history book.

TIME Magazine ranked the top 100 historically significant people of all time. I was not surprised to see many religious figures on the list; Jesus (1), Muhammad (3), and Gautama Buddha (52).  Philosophers and deep thinkers like Karl Marx (14) and Socrates (68) will find their names on the list, if they ever care enough to look.  Way too many American presidents are on the list.   Many church leaders, artists and writers win a spot; Martin Luther (17), Leonardo da Vinci (29), Shakespeare (4), Dickens (33) and Martin Luther (17).

Of note, and worthy of its own blog, only a few women made the list:  Elizabeth I (13), Queen Victoria (16),  and Joan of Arc (95).  Seriously?  You either have to rule a monarch or be burned at the stake to be an influential female.

But here’s what I realized as I thought about those 97 men and three women on TIME’s list:  A list of 100 people in a world populated by 107 billion is absurd.  People change the world, influence history, make a difference each and every day.  You just don’t know their names.  They might not free slaves like Lincoln (5) or start wars like Bush (36) or conquer the world like Caesar (15), but they leave a mark, just the same.

For instance, who created the perfect cup of coffee?  I don’t know his name but he changed my world.  How about Napoleon’s (2) mother?  She helped shape the little man, for better or worse.  Why isn’t she there to get a little credit and share a little blame?  At the very least, an honorable mention should go to the guy who invented indoor plumbing. And while we’re on the subject, how about a nod for the genius who developed softer toilet paper?

If it were up to me, I would have added Neil Armstrong (101) for, oh, I don’t know, walking on the moon, and Rosalind Elsie Franklin (102) for truly discovering DNA.

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Generals develop strategies but it’s the soldiers who win or lose a war.

Over the course of history, men and women fought tyranny and oppression by storming beaches, hiding refugees, and standing up for what is right and against what is wrong.  Millions fed hungry children, provided shelter for the homeless, helped the hurting, and held the hand of the dying.  We will never know their names.  We will never know the full story.  They are the anonymous masses that make life bearable.  We only know the world is a better place today because of their selfless, courageous acts.

And that’s the lesson, isn’t it?  Not everyone can or should grow up to be President.  (Of the 472 million people who were born American, only 44 of them ever took the oath of office.)  But everyone, every single one, can make a difference.  They CAN leave a mark.  They can change the life of someone through tenacity, courage, creativity and love.

We may never make the list of the top 100 influential persons of all time, but we can, we must make a difference in the world.  Starting today.

 

Taking Out The Trash

cropped-austins-acre-sunrise-barn1.jpgLet’s be honest.  This was a week of crazy.  This was a work week of stupid.

In just three short days in the office I dealt with a liar and a thief and a couple very smart people without an ounce of ethics in their bones.  I was trapped in my office as people went on 30-minute rants about their drives to work, the conditions of the roads and the stupid people who drive them.  I suffered a man who seems to desire nothing more than making his girlfriend uncomfortable with his choices, his humor and his selfish desires.  I tolerated a woman who finds joy in making her coworkers’ lives miserable by assigning meaningless tasks.  I endured another woman who needed action on a project immediately, resulting in hours of work on my part only to find that she meant her 32 emails to go to someone else and their project.

It was a banner week.  One for the books.  And I can guarantee you’ve had one just like in the past…And will have one just like it in the future.  People can get under our skin.  Their constant droning can ring in our ears like the 7-year locust on a hot summer day.

However, I’ve discovered a new trick to avoid the annoying buzz they bring:  I let them carry out whatever they’ve carried in; not literally, of course, but in my own mind’s eye I see them hauling out the hubris.  What I do is this:  As they talk, blab, drone, blather and complain, I grab a notepad and I scribble down their story.  I record their rant.  I compose their confession.  I draft their droning.  I write their rant.

It’s like taking notes in a meeting…only a lot more fun.  I don’t write entire sentences but only jot key words, central themes and great quotes.  And when they leave, I throw it away. I simply toss it in the trash. I crumple the complaints. I destroy the diatribe.  I shred the sound off.  I trash their tirade.  When they leave the room, they take their garbage with them and I eliminate the evidence.

I don’t allow them to leave their emotional litter.  I pick up their piles of poisoned passion and I sweep away the sour sentiments.

Imagine a day in your life when you are not side-tracked by crazy.  Imagine a time when another person’s philippic doesn’t become your own internal struggle.  Imagine living life free from other peoples’ problems. This is one way to clear your desk and your mind and get back to the things that matter most.

Try it next week.  It just might work as well for you as it does for me!

 

Resolving to Revolutionize My Life

WWLHappy New Year!  This is it.  This is the one.  This is the year when everything changes:  You will make and save more money than ever before.  You will loose those last (or first) ten pounds.  You will find a meaningful hobby.  You will volunteer in a way that changes lives.  You will fix up the house, get a new wardrobe and read War & Peace.

This is the year that you climb the mountain of apathy, plant the flag of determination and take the stance of self-assurance.

This is your year and nothing will change your mind.  You will set your sail, stay the course and find new adventures over every horizon.

Or…you won’t.  You might just stay the same…or worse.

You might make less money and spend it foolishly.  You might blow up like a human balloon because you can’t control your eating and your emotions.  You might live a year of sloth; no hobby, no meaningful service, or no home repairs.  You just might sit around in Cheetos-stained t-shirts watching reruns of Happy Days wishing you were as cool as the Fonz.

Instead of blazing new trails, you are afraid to mow your own yard.  Instead of leading the charge into a life of adventure, you cuddle under your Harry Potter Snuggie in the dark of night.

This is it.  This is your year.  And it could go either way.  Which one will you select?

Stick with Love

20131113_173505“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_love.html#kzGsYWQErGow4riQ.99I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, 2013

20131117_160359I try to live my life in a way that reflects gratitude.  Sometimes I’m actually successful at reaching this goal.  There are times when I celebrate little things, give thanks for the many blessings and embrace those in my life who strengthen my heart with love or my character with challenge.  Sometimes.

There are other times that my pride and sense of entitlement overwhelms my better nature.  There are those times when I expect others to understand my selfishness and bow to my childish demands.  There are times when I become upset because life doesn’t fall into a perfect plan that benefits me.  There are those times.

Thanksgiving Day is the easy one, right?  November has become the month of Thanksgiving and we list off the 31 things we are thankful for; each day getting its own item.  But all that seems to change the minute the store doors open on Friday morning (or Thursday night, or Thursday morning, or Wednesday night).

But, what if each moment was as it should be:  Less about us, and more about others?  What if our hearts overflow with joy instead of bogged down with desire?  Shouldn’t we live lives of gratitude and grace instead of the desire to grab and go?  Shouldn’t we have pure souls and open minds instead of jaded thoughts and bitter viewpoints?

Thanksgiving:  It’s not just for November any more.

Grace House

Dinner Table

There are a few places in my life that bring deep peace to my heart and soul.  When I enter the space, I find comfort and ease.  Some of these sanctuaries of solace include the obvious locations:  The Chapel in the hospital and my church auditorium.

Others are more obscure:  McGregor Park, Turkey Run State Park, The Rocky Mountains, The Library.  But one haven of healing stands out above all others.

Of all my precious asylums, our abode is my favorite.  Our house is nothing short of a retreat center for my spirit, a balm for my soul.  It is a residence of rest, a hearth of harmony, a quarter of quiet.  Our home is a dear and wonderful place of tranquility and renewal.

I’m not exactly sure what makes this place so magical to my weary heart.  It might be the way the light shines through the dining room window on a late autumn evening.  It could be the way the grass grows in the back yard, thick and lush even on dry summer days.  It is possible that it is the amazingly warm and inviting colors we’ve painted the walls.  Or, most probably, it is the love and trust we’ve honed over the past thirteen years in this a little, vinyl-sided structure planted on a cul-de-sac in a norther-Indianapolis suburb.

Whatever it is that creates the mystery of this mansion, this house is more than my home.  It is my sanctuary: A place of grace.  It is “Grace House”…my place of safety and strength. And I love it, dearly.

More of the Same

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIf you follow Austin’s Acre, you know that I post pictures, thoughts and comments from time to time.

But did you know that I also post daily to my second blog, “My Journey to 50 Blog“?  It’s true.  If you are one of the 120 people who follow Austin’s Acre, you might also enjoy some of the posts in Journey to 50.

Journey to 50 is my attempt to track my life during this last year of my 4th decade of life.

Feel free to visit, to read a little and to follow the blog.  By clicking the button in the upper right-hand corner of the page, you’ll get an update every time I post.

It might not change your life but it surely can’t hurt.  And that’s really my goal.

http://myjourneyto50blog.com

From Boys to Men

Boys to MenThere is a beautify that comes from living with good friends over many years.  A rhythm develops and a give-and-take grows from weekly interactions, soulful conversations and an ongoing, loving dialogue.  You get to know each member very well and they, in turn, get to know you.  They can see when you are struggling.  They can help you prepare when the dark clouds form on the horizon. They stand beside you when parenting is hard.  They are present during surgeries, illness and family funerals.  They love you through the painful days in ways no one else can.

And they can share in your hopes, dreams, joys and celebrations.  They relish in your successes.  They are present when babies are born.  They cheer when graduations occur.  They sing at the tops of their lungs during birthday parties.

They are good friends walking with you along this path of life.

I’m am so happy that I am able to reap the benefits of this relational treasure.  But with the benefit comes a responsibility that to the members of your group and the generations that will follow.

The picture on the left is from May 2006. It reveals the men of our group and young Elliott, then 10 years old, as we volunteered at a local women’s shelter.  That day we moved wood, cleaned trash piles and gave sweat and blood to the project.  In short, we all spent a fun morning doing hard work that made a difference.  Elliott is now 18 years old.  He donates his time to the church.  He travels on missions trips.  He engages the community.  He is a productive member of society.  And we were a small part of that journey to adulthood.

The picture on the right was taken last night (July 5, 2013).  Javier is eight.  He is funny, energetic, and creative.  The men in our group engage him in conversation, ask him questions about his life and love him like a son.  There is no way for us to know what he will be ten years from now.  But we do know that it is our responsibility to stand with him, to love him, to guide him along that path and into adulthood.

Over our many years together, our group has helped raise Eli, Abby, Jonathan and Emily.  Most recently, we’ve loved Benjamin and Elliott to adulthood.  But we aren’t done.  We still need to hug on and pray for Claire, Hannah, Javi and Mia.  The youngest members of our troupe, Audry and Wesley are just learning what it means to be a part of this odd mix of extended family: Aunts and Uncles that are not in their blood line but love them as if they were.  And with each passing year we will find new ways to engage, love and care for these blessed charges as we continue to engage, love and care for each and every member of our group.

May God continue to give us wisdom, patience and love as we live out this incredible responsibility, this amazing challenge, and this awesome opportunity.