I Forgot To Type the Title of the Post

Nearly everything I've written lately has not been posted here. It's partly because my blog here is stalled. I wanted a better set up, a smoother appearance, a better this, a nicer that, and in my ignorance, I let my domain expire rather than transfer it. A word of advice about custom domains: Never, ever let them expire. All the momentum I never realized I had gained here went away when that happened. I should have listened to that little voice in my head that said, "Wait!"

So. My momentum is no more. My "mo" is no mo'. Not exactly a shining achievement, but like my friends who lost nearly everything in the Waldo Canyon Fire, I have a chance to start fresh here. I have a few ideas that I'm starting to firm up. This blog will continue to publish as I go, making changes on the fly. Wherever I go, I'm going to do all I can to take you, my friends, along. I will be careful not to lose you again!

Why haven't I been publishing? Partly because my walk with God had hit a coasting spot. If you've walked with Him for any amount of time, you'll know what I mean by coasting. He's not really talking much, and I'm not in any hot water with any one. Nothing seems to be in crisis (aside from fire, flood, and famine, which we've seen before, to one extent or another). I just came to think that there wasn't really anything going on in my walk. Boy, was I wrong! Never ever (is there an echo in here?) believe the lie that God isn't working 24/7/365 on you!

Sure, there will be moments when there's peace around you and he's not visibly altering your heart by pressing it in a vice and heating it with fire, but that's where I got tripped up. I thought that since he wasn't coaching me and I kept talking to Him, that everything was fine and there were "no worries." It's the tagline from a Jaws sequel that haunts me: "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..."

It's always that problem that hangs just beneath the surface. Worse yet, it was contributing to my lack of writing. It seems to me that nothing is worse than a constipated writer. Sorry for comparing this to such a base idea, but when a writer is not writing, it's not that he's stopped writing. It's that he's stopped listening with his heart and writing from what he hears. All the other stuff he's written is not from that spot and the works range from little bits from his heart to what could be considered busy work.

I had been up all night, struggling over the issue, when I had finally resolved to "fix" the problem with what appeared to be the only solution. That's when my wife, wonderful Karen, asked in a middle-of-the-night croaky voice, "Did ya pray about it?"

"What?!" I responded in anger. Whoa. Wait a minute. Did I just yell at my wife? Yep, I shamefully confess that I did, and I was clearly in the wrong. Sorry. The worst part of it is that I hadn't consulted the God Who knows better than me in every circumstance. Sorry, again, Poppa. So I did, and He showed that He's got a better solution than I have. He is faithful, providentially faithful, even when we are faithless. He has never failed me to give me what I need, even if it's not always what I want.

Your brother in the Lion of Judah,
Steve

PS: If you want to read a bit of good news that has come as a result of last Thursday night in Aurora, there is a story of God's grace that, with a little help from me, has gone viral. Petra (PAY-tra) is a graduated homeschooler who already has a gift that shines even as her mom struggles to extend her days here with her. Brave young lady! I'm praying for her and all the others affected by this tragedy.

Grumble, Grumble, Toil and Trouble

Let's see.

We have one vehicle, namely the van used to carry my wheelchair, down for repairs after it died just before entering the Eisenhower Tunnel (CDOT, Wikipedia). The hills approaching both ends of this tunnel have killed more vehicles than I care to count! Currently, our beloved van sits outside my house while we mull repair versus replacement. Repair is winning, but the price of $4,500.00 is just a bit outside our comfort zone. Anyone got a Chevy 350 small block in their pocket?

The Heart Of A Young Man

My head is full of things tonight. I am under a week away from an appointment that will have significant bearing on aspects about my future, yet I find myself spending less and less time thinking about it. Instead, I find it preoccupied with how marvelous a family I have. My children are amazing. I couldn't have picked better kids if I had the choice and knew exactly what was in each of their hearts. I don't want to gush sentimentality all over, but they each bring me a unique joy and happiness I've never thought possible.

This Post Will Make You Hungry

One of the wonderful things about the blogosphere is that, once in a while, you happen upon a blogger who you really resonate with. For me, the blog “Lisanotes” has been hitting all the right chords with me. Recently, she had a book review that I found unexpectedly useful.

The problem has been months—no, years!—in the making. My 10 year old son has had more than his share of difficulty in understanding his sisters. Disagreements and frustrations over daily occurrences, like my 13 year-old daughter’s use of the computer, have boiled into huge conflicts. Lisa’s review of a book titled, Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti, which I had skimmed over, came to my mind. After reading the review, I sat down with my son and explained the concept to him. I will let my son take it from here.

If I were a food I’d be a Waffle. I’d be a Waffle because it describes how a male’s brain works and processes things. A Waffle has squares in it (as always), so does a males brain (supposedly). Each box represents a thing that a male is doing or thinking about at one time. Males think differently than females. They focus on one thing at one time. Females don’t think or do one thing at one time, they think or do it all at once. Therefore, females are like spaghetti because their minds keep on thinking about everything at once. They keep on following the spaghetti line through all the sauce and other noodles. Then they run out of noodle, and then their minds jump to another noodle that leads them to another, and another, and another, and another and another and so on and so forth. That is how I think that the male and female minds work, and that is why, if I were a food, I would want to be a Waffle.

(p.s. My Dad explained this to me, which really helped understand my mom and my sisters.)

Like a lot of boys, my son understands word pictures. Until this moment, it was really hard for him to understand the differences God has built into women. Now, instead of him wishing that girls were more like boys, which is something every 10 year old boy seems to struggle with, he allows his sisters the freedom to be who they are. The difference inside our house is night and day! I can hardly believe what a difference it has made. Instead of berating his little sister for leaving a mess somewhere, he reminds her that she should help clean up. His humor, his bright smile, his very soul seems sweeter and more mature. I have the feeling that I just did my future daughter-in-law—whoever she may be—a huge favor.

I told you this post will make you hungry. Let's go to IHOP and talk it over.

Familyman: Leaving Texas

I love Todd Wilson's latest post to his FamilyMan list. He makes a good point.

Hey Dad,

Hope this doesn’t offend any of my fellow dads in Texas, but we were all glad to leave the Lone Star State. I’m thinking we had a little too much unplanned time there…or maybe it was the way those Texans drive! Not only do they drive on the shoulder of the road…and are OK with that, but they have some mighty mixed up on and off ramps in their cities.

I’m sure we were almost killed at least a couple of times. Poor Gloria (the voice on our GPS) never talked so fast, “Get in the right lane…bear left, no I mean right…not that right lane, the other right lane…watch out for that oncoming car…Ahgggg!!! Can someone please unplug me?”

Whew! I’m getting worked up just writing about it.

Anyway, the kids and the RV are doing great, but all the time in the RV tends to put a strain on our marriage. In fact, I’m thinking about writing a book entitled “The Familyman’s RV Marriage Guide for Men.” I’m not sure of all the details, but I’ve been thinking about at least one chapter entitled, “The longer you wait to fix things, the harder they are to fix.”

Not only does it apply to RV problems like leaky toilets, tail light issues, and smoking motors, but it also applies to marriages…especially mine. You see the problem is that I’m a glass half-full kind of guy. I like to assume that things will get better on their own if I ignore them. Problem is…they don’t, especially when it applies to marriages…especially mine.

So, when I can tell that my wife is out of sorts, I kind of like to think that all she needs is a good night’s sleep. So, I plop into bed and go to sleep instead of dealing with it. Next morning, I wake to find that my wife is not over “it”. Instead, she’s a little MORE out of sorts. A few ‘sleeps’ later, and I’ve got marriage issues.

I’m just so stupid. When will I learn that if I take the time to address the problem when it’s first detected, it would make life a whole lot better for all of us? Because the truth is: the longer I wait to fix things, the harder they are to fix.

So, Dad, if you’re like me and have some “things” to fix, you better get at it.

You ‘da…Mr. Fix-it,
Todd Wilson

Thanks, Todd. Point taken.

Giving A Shortcut

We live in an amazing technological age! We sit and relax with ever-smaller digital players that reproduce anything that can be heard. We walk through our daily lives with Star Trek-ian communicators that all but beam us up. We drive with hand-sized computers that tell us where to turn right or left.

One of those direction finders like the "give-a-give-a-give-a-Garmin" was on my list to get for my wife. Yes, it's a wow-eee, whiz-bang kind of techy gift that has me written all over it, but my reasons for giving it were pure. Well, not pure, but right-hearted. See, I don't drive as much as I used to because of the different medications I'm on for my disability and I have trouble not acting as a backseat driver. They only put one steering wheel in a car and for some reason, yielding control of it is not something that comes naturally for me. I tend to tell my wife what to do, what lane to be in, and so on. I'm not always diplomatic about it. I thought that having a Garmin in the car would get me to shut up and keep me from arguing with my wife.

All that fell down today. My wife and I were discussing what presents we had money left for. The voice of previous experience began to speak to me, saying that if I was really going to get a "mid-ticket" item like a Garmin, I would have to determine if that really was what she wanted. The only way to do so was to "unveil" early. To my surprise, my wife declined, even when I gave her my back-seat driver explanation. She told me that the world has all sorts of shortcuts to work around building trust and relationship. She didn't want to go that way.

Proverbs 19:14 says,

Houses and riches are an inheritance from fathers,
But a prudent wife is from the LORD.

Thank you, God, for such a wise mate as Karen! Slippers and fuzzy socks say much more with much less money. Amazing how she knows where she's going.

Who I Am Is Not What I Am

Who I am is not what I am.

What I am is disabled. What I am is a writer. What I am is a failure. What I am is a success. A provider, a dependant, the list goes on. What I am comes from what describes me, what I do, and what happens to me. What I am is not who I am.

Who I am is a son. Who I am is a father. Who I am is a brother. Who I am is a husband. Most importantly, I am a child of God who is loved by Him without any regard of what I am or what happened or will happen to me. Who I am is loved.

(Happy Thanksgiving!)

Why Men Don't Talk About Their Emotions

It was while we were watching our umpteenth hour of Olympics coverage on NBC that I came up with an explanation on why guys generally have a hard time articulating their feelings about matters of the heart. I tried explaining this to my wife in the middle of her work and didn't quite make it through, so I'm going to try it here and see if I get better in explaining it.

Guys don't like to show their emotions or reveal their feelings about something dear to them because it leaves them vulnerable. This is not just "Me Tarzan not like feeling vulnerable. Rather hunt bear with pointy stick!" It's something I think we've forgotten in our relative prosperity and "lack of vital needs," like when there was only so much medicine available or there was only so much food to go around. In competition, weaknesses are exploited and it's imbued on men that weaknesses can cause you to fail and lose. To allow others to know what is in his heart is to invite disaster. So men have instinctively clammed up and only allowed their feelings out when they knew it was safe, confidential and controlled. To protect himself and the ones he loves, a man will not betray the contents of his heart for the instinctual fear that the sentiments of his heart could be used to hamstring him and expose his beloved to possible harm.

It's not an apologetic that I'm making for men, saying this is the way we are and so don't go asking us how we feel. Instead, understand that men need to know that when the environment and time is right, it is okay to actually open up a little. They won't do it if they feel threatened. Using his feelings in a later argument to hurt or hamper him is an immediate and profound reinforcement of the instinct to clam up and protect his heart. Good luck getting him to open up after that.

On that note, I'm glad that we are homeschooling my son. Keeping him out of the dog-eat-dog competition and ruthlessness of the schools, public and private, is probably going to spare his heart and protect him from the pathological side of this instinct.

No, my wife and I aren't fighting. It's just that seeing the competitive nature of the events and it's impact on so many of the olympians and their families. It really has helped me understand the human heart to watch the games. I just better come up with some more observations that are a little more profound in order to keep this from being a total loss.

Oh, and NBC, ease up on the ads for sex-and-violence shows. My kids are watching, and it's only reinforcing our desire to turn off the TV after the closing ceremonies. Maybe that wouldn't be a such a bad thing for us.

My Favorite Foods

I have been away for far too long.

My blog suffers each time I am under a deadline and this was no exception. Come to think of it, my body suffers any time I am under stress. Yesterday, I slept 15 hours because the piece I was working on was finally completed and submitted the day before. Ah the wonderful world of Fibromyalgia!

As it was, I woke up just in time for a date with my wife. Any time you can't remember your last date, it's a sign you need another one. Last night, we went out to the Outback Steakhouse, courtesy a friend's generosity, for what is the ideal meal to me. Start out with warm, fresh bread with butter. Follow with a caesar salad and then a center-cut sirloin seared to medium-rare perfection along with a loaded jacket potato. Such is my favorite meal. We talked, held hands over the table, and meaningfully discussed life together. Then dessert arrived.

Every restaurant dessert requires an excuse. Paying $5 for dressed up ice cream is hard to justify otherwise. In this case, my birthday was the excuse and I decided to go big. The Outback's "Chocolate Chocolate Tower" is every chocolate lover's dream. Imagine thin layers of chocolate cake separated by the richest chocolate frosting known to man. I can't say it was fudge because that suggests something unlike what it was. I remember a Bavarian chocolate torte and this was the closest approximation. Good grief, it was so good! As a part of my weight loss regimen, I do not gorge anymore, but this was worth breaking that rule. If you want chocolate cake for your birthday, baby, that's the one!

I waddled to the car after that. I couldn't complete the feat and finish it. That's another part of my weight loss plan. Food left on the plate is a good thing, not something to feel wasteful about. Compulsive cleaning of the plate is just that, compulsive. I will not be mastered by anything, as Paul said.

Am I on a diet? Not really. Diet implies that I'll go back to old habits after a while. I can't afford that. I need to lose a lot of weight over time and then keep it off. This is the new way I eat and I plan to keep it that way. I will not order dessert in the future... unless I have an excuse.

Practical Steps In Dealing With Grief

Yesterday evening, Steven Curtis Chapman and his family lost their 5 year-old daughter, Maria Sue. She was struck and killed by a car driven by one of their older children. Apparently, the teen did not see the child.

I have not lost a child, but I have lost a few friends and walked with other friends through deep grief. I don't know all there is to know about grief, nor do I have letters after my name giving me any more authority than anyone else on the subject. Yet, I have some advice for those people encountering a tragedy like this.

On Grief
Grief is not understood by most people here in America. I'm speaking of both the emotion and the people suffering from it. People don't understand it. No one wants to experience it or be around those who do, mostly because there's not much that can be done for it. That's not to say that people don't try, mind you, but nothing much can be done to help alleviate grief.

Grief is its own emotion, if not its own state of mind based on a reaction to loss. It is not just a form of severe sadness or deep depression, although both of those can result from grief. Instead, it is a profound sense of loss that overwhelms a person, affecting all facets of their life. There are not only emotional effects, but physical, psychological, and spiritual effects that ripple through the bereaved person.

Grief is not a gradual progression of steps. It's not orderly or even rational. It's a very messy, disorganized and distressing experience for those going through it. I have found myself brooding one moment, laughing in the next moment and in tears a minute or two later. It is a very rough ride, similar to riding a bull. You don't know which way you're going next, only that you feel the surge of the emotion and the power of it overrides everything else.

Tread Lightly
This "bull riding" experience is obviously very distressing, both to the person experiencing the grief and to those surrounding the person. There is a natural tendency to react to the ups-and-downs and twists-and-turns of the experience. What comes out of our mouths at these times is anything but predictable. Noone can weather such an experience with a "perfect rating." Mistakes, miscommunications, inappropriate remarks and the like are going to happen, unfortunately. However, I do have some tips on how to minimize them and tread lightly on people's hearts and minds.

Avoid attempts to normalize the experience. This is the first mistake with grief. Every grief encountered is as different as the people who experience them. Comparisons between a person's grief and another loss encountered by them or someone else is a fruitless and harmful exercise. Statements that begin with, "When your father died..." or "When I lost my..." should be treated with extreme caution. A poorly-delivered or poorly-conceived thought along these lines stings and invites a strong rebuke.

Avoid attempts to re-interpret the grief. Putting a spin on things may work in the news media but it is a fools notion to apply it to a loss. For bereaved parents, referring to a child as their "dear little angel now singing in heaven" can be disasterous, not to mention an error in most people's theology. Other words of consolation about what they still have--a spouse or a child, for example--are not helpful. They may even serve to remind a person of what they still can lose. Words of consolation should be short, brief and sincere. Statements like "I'm so sorry for your loss," or "I will be praying for you and your family," are sufficient.

Making An Offer
Often those on the outside wish there was something they could do, but offers of help should be genuine and appropriate. As innocent as the offer may seem, a friend of the opposite sex saying "call me anytime," could be poorly interpreted by anyone.

An offer of help should be tailored to the person's situation and your relative closeness to them. A practical offer aimed at making life easier, like offering and then delivering a meal in a few days, is usually helpful. An offer never made is better than one never fulfilled.

On Loss and Time
Though I'm focusing on the loss of a child, losses take all forms, and not just in death. Loss of a job, a home, a friendship, and a marriage all have unique and powerful aspects I couldn't begin to speak to. Even though I'm disabled, I have lost abilities over time and couldn't begin to fathom the grief of someone who lost abilities in a sudden accident.

Just as losses vary, so does the time and extent of a person's recovery. A parent may never "get over" losing their child, and any expectation put on them to "move on" is unfair and calloused. Even if a recovery may seem complete, the effects may linger. A few days ago, I watched a movie in which a little girl died in a car accident. I thought I would be fine with it, but as soon as the image of the dead child hit the screen, I was back in the ER looking over a friend's daughter when she had just died. I couldn't handle my reaction and I got physically sick over it. It's something I had to process and deal with the rest of that evening. I may be more sensitive than others on this, but that's just it: each person varies in their reaction and recovery. You don't really know if you've healed until you're confronted with some trigger moment, a memory, an image or even a sound. Give yourself the grace to face the grief again and mourn the loss anew. It's something your human heart just has to do.

Last Thoughts
It takes a great deal of sensitivity and courage for anyone to reach out to someone bereaved over a loss. That cannot be overstated. It is not widely recognized as a brave thing, but those who do can save a heart, if not save a life. Acts of heroism, large and small, are possible in the face of grief and sooner or later, we'll all have the opportunity.

My heart goes out to the Chapman family. It is a sudden shock to a family that I understand to be closely knit. The pain they are feeling must be profound. My prayers are for them and for the grieving parents out there who have lost their children. No parent should have to bury their children. May God give them peace that passes understanding and reaches their hearts in one of their darkest and most distressing time.

---------------------
Here's a link to Kim's post on losing a child.

Making Time

Todd Wilson over at FamilyManWeb.com just sent me a good reminder. Here it is:

It’s a beautiful, spring morning here in Northern Indiana. The sun is shining, the temperature is well below freezing, and there is a winter storm warning for the next two days. Perfect weather for finishing up the last minute details before we hit the road next Wednesday---NOT!

Actually, I feel a little overwhelmed and discouraged. I’m having a tail light issue on the RV, which I hadn’t anticipated, my grandmother will be going to heaven soon, and---did I mention the winter storm thing?

Here’s the real kicker: time is passing at lightning speed, and I don’t like it. Just yesterday, my wife was talking to an old high school friend who mentioned that her daughter would be going to college in the fall and she was saddened by the thought that she was---leaving.

When my wife relayed their conversation to me, I was taken back in time to a restaurant table filled with a bunch of young couples that were entertained by a little girl in a highchair who could say, “Bubbles.”

Now the restaurant is gone, some of the couples are no longer couples, and the little bubble girl will be going to college in the fall---and I’ve got a lump in my throat.

That’s the thing about time. It sneaks up on you and changes things before you notice or can do anything about it. It takes little girls and boys and turns them into men and women. It takes fried chicken-making grandmothers and confines them to wheelchairs unable to communicate, eventually transforming them into fond memories.

Time’s doing ‘it’ right now. My little daughter who begs her very busy father to play Candyland will quit asking one day. And about the time I’m starting to have time---she won’t be there.

Drat that dastardly time!

But my ‘drats’ won’t change things. My only recourse is to enjoy my family, the cold weather, and a game of Candlyland today because the bubble girl is going to college in the fall.

"Dastardly time" is unrelenting, and just like Todd says, it changes things and moves people beyond our reach. You know, since I've lost the ability to work full-time, you'd think I'd naturally have more time for my kids. Imagine my shock when I'd looked back over the months and found that I'd spent a lot of time on "stuff" and not as much on my kids as I would like.

When I was a kid, I had a big sandbox in my back yard. It was Tonka heaven! In the summer, I would liven things up and get a hose to create "water management projects." One of the first things I learned working in "muck" was that sand and water have their own mind about where they want to go. Holes that would normally stay where you put them needed something in them or they would disappear as quickly as you dug the hole. It's the same thing with time. Time will naturally fill in the voids unless you intentionally put something there to keep it open.

What they say is true: you make time for the important things. No one went to their grave wishing they'd put in more overtime or pressed harder for that raise in pay. Work is work; it's what makes living possible. Don't forget to live. Make the time for your family.

House of Cards, House of Faith

This last week with the court decision affecting our finances has been hard, but the worst came last night. My parents and I are very close and they come over every couple of weeks to check up on us, help me take care of the house, play with their grandkids and play cards with my wife and I. We have a 7-year string of Reno Rummy games that just won't quit. Last night was probably around our 200th game. We're at the table playing and my dad casually asked, "So, when are you going to start listing the house for sale?"

Now, my folks know about our situation with the court, but I had assumed that my mom passed on to my dad that my wife and I had prayed repeatedly and we both felt that we couldn't sell the house and remain faithful to God. We believed (still do) that God was going to somehow take care of us. As a result, I never expected the question and it blindsided me. I'd like to say that I articulated what we believed God had told us what he would do, but the casualness and bluntness of the question sent me into a spiritual and intellectual tailspin and, to my shame, all that came out was an R-rated version of "go jump in the lake." Instantly, my dad and I were eyeball-to-eyeball and my dad threatened something until my mom asked him to stop. I backed down and excused myself at the next possible moment.

Not a great moment. In fact, this was perhaps the most distressing moment I can ever remember in my life. As adults, my dad and I are so close and this was like an atom bomb going off between us. Suddenly I was back to 15 going on 25, ready to take him on. This simple exchange had just blown up a perfectly good game of cards and my relationship with my dad was a smoldering ruin.

I went away to my bedroom as the shock of what had just happened began to melt into a boiling froth of anger, disbelief and a seething rage. It was as if all that financial pressure and the sting of my dad's words transformed into some kind of aggression that I had never known before. Additionally, my natural desire to protect and provide for my family, so long denied because of my condition, had twisted into a destructive despair that messed with every thought I had. I was a total mess! Finally, my wife came up and helped talk me down. She explained how my mom was working with my dad and that he wasn't aware of some of the things we had told her. I calmed down a bit and eventually, I went downstairs.

My dad and mom were cleaning up the cards and stuff off the table and I was still not sure what to do as I went to pick up my laptop. I turned to go upstairs when my dad said, "Steve, I'm sorry that--" which was all he got out before I turned and ran into his arms. I locked with him in a big bear hug as I tried to get my apology out between tears and gasps for air. I don't think either of us knew how much our relationship mattered to us. If there's one man on earth whose opinion I value, it's his.

We sat down across from each other and I spelled out my convictions about our circumstances and how strongly I believed in them. I couldn't change them and as I professed what I believed God would do, I felt like everything that I was just was stripped away. My dad explained how he hadn't known about how we felt and how he just concluded that the only option would be selling our house, not realizing that our breaking even is impossible.

After that, we actually got back to playing cards! Things were not as awkward as they could have been, although it wasn't entirely normal. Today, my dad, my son and I went on a short ice fishing trip and after talking on the trip, we still don't totally see eye to eye, but he's agreed to support me in what I believe and help any way he can. To be honest, if we were in each other's shoes, I probably would believe him to be a bit crazy and setting himself up for a disappointment by believing in a miracle. Yes, I am crazy. Yes, I have very little hope of making it out of this situation. But I know God is watching over me. I know He will take care of me and my family. I would surrender this house if I felt that's what He wanted, but I believe He wants us to hang onto this house. I trust Him to know what He's doing.

Please pray for us. I'm scared, but I know my God loves me and will protect me and my family. I trust him with everything, including this.

The Secret To Happiness

A discussion this morning with my 11 year old daughter fit the last piece of a puzzle that I've been working on for a few days now. Another piece came along last night listening to Joyce Meyer. I'll do my best to summarize the conclusions I have.

What we think is determined by whatever we choose to believe. Most people don't understand this. We can choose to believe whatever we want to believe. I can choose to believe that my happiness depends on the decision of another person. If that person says yes, I will be happy. If they say no, I will be sad. By choosing to believe this, I place my happiness in the hands of another person. I may not realize it, but I've surrendered my personal sovereignty, my ability to act independent of another person. It logically follows that what we choose to think directs the way we act, and how we act changes our future.

Here in Colorado, we have over 52 mountain peaks that are higher than 14,000 feet above sea level. Before my disability, I loved to climb these mountains. Each one of these mountains is a personal challenge to one's body and one's soul. Most of them may be climbed in one day, but the earlier you start, the better off you are because of weather. The summer climbing season is also Colorado's monsoon season, and afternoon thunderstorms can turn a beautiful climb into a nightmare. Lightning from these storms claims lives of climbers every year. Experienced mountaineers must recognize the signs preceding thunderstorms, and heed their warning. It is tempting, especially for inexperienced climbers, to proceed regardless of the warning and take a chance on the weather. This is mostly because they have chosen to believe that their happiness depends on successfully reaching the top. This mistake can be deadly.

By believing my happiness depends on another person, I am doing the same thing as taking a chance on the weather, something totally out of my control and something that could change very easily. I believe that this is why most people don't have stability in their lives.

Additionally, this is a tremendous burden for me to place on the other person to carry. This leads to my selfish nature trying to control the other person (or people) in my life. I will place my own emotions ahead of the other person's benefit. This runs entirely contrary to the godly, self-sacrificing love that God has called us to.

My daughter asked me this morning, if putting our happiness on another person is foolish and and leads to selfish behavior, what should we put our happiness on? My advice to her was to put it on something that doesn't change, or at least cannot easily change. Since things in this world change, we should look toward the eternal, specifically our relationship with God through Christ. You'll notice that I didn't say how we feel about our relationship with God through Christ. That changes. Our relationship itself never changes because it's based on God's grace, not on our feelings or our actions. I should say, however, that God does hold back or withdraw from us when we do something to grieve God. You will not meet a more miserable Christian than one who is in love with God and yet in a situation that grieves His heart.

Certainly, it's difficult to make the transition, and I'm not sure of all the steps involved. But I do know that this is a much better way to live than my old life. Basing it on the grace given to me by Jesus Christ gives me much more stability and freedom to give to others. It's what I need and what I want.

A Top 10 Of...

Here's a list of the Top 10 Things Not To Say To Your Wife In Her Last Week Of Pregnancy. Some of the comments are pretty good too.

Craving the Satisfaction of a Job Well Done

Like my Creator, I need to be needed. I guess that demands an explanation. It's based in part on the Westminister Catechism. God created us because he wanted (maybe needed) someone to choose to love Him and glorify Him. God desires us to love Him and enjoy Him forever, to need Him and express that need by praying to Him.

Similarly, I have to have someone need me. I cannot be a self-contained, self-satisfying island. I've had recent reminders of this. Because I'm not able to sit for long periods at the computer anymore, I've had to let my wife come in and help put things together for our clients. It's frustrating! I'm not able to be as useful. While all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, all play and no work makes Steve purposeless and empty. I need to come away from each day with something -- anything! -- that says I was critical to something good happening that day. It's not that I feel worthless, but I need the gratification of a job well done.

Today, Karen had a crick in her neck from sleeping wrong. Now, I do not have any sort of license or degree for massage, but baby, I really enjoyed working on her neck and helping her feel better. I have strong hands and a talent for finding tension and getting it to release. I'd get the training and licensing if I thought I could do it part-time or full-time with any consistency. Unfortunately, I can't predict the times or the duration for the periods I am unable to work. If I could, I would be able to make a job of doing it. Maybe in the future, but today, it's just not possible.

Thanks Given

Okay, here I am on the day before Thanksgiving, sitting in a peaceful home. I have much to be thankful for.

Our home, despite our lack of income for two years, is still intact. This is a miracle!

I have my pain medications here and they're working. They didn't cost me a fortune, thanks to Medicaid and God's provision.

My wife and children love me. I had a wonderful, candle-lit moment with my wife last night talking about us (after I had a snit-fit). She's really the great one in our relationship. She has such a servant's heart and she takes care of every need, often stepping to the plate when I can't help. I often write about coping with a disability, but she's the real authority on it. She puts up with all my symptoms and problems. She doesn't accuse me or regret marrying me. She loves me. I am so very thankful for that. I would do anything to keep our hearts together.

My body, while injured, is not dead and is doing much better than those who have totally lost functions. I can still do some part-time work with a few provisions. If I couldn't do anything, it would rob my heart of so much.

I have the support of my parents, who sacrifice time, money and effort to help me stay on top of the house. I couldn't keep my family here without their love and support. Most importantly, it's given in grace, without asking for anything in return--except maybe allowing them to love their grandkids. I treasure every moment I'm around them. Not many people can say that about their parents. When I grow up, I want to be just like them.

We received $200 from a Christian brother or sister who wants to remain anonymous. If nothing else, this gives me hope that we will be able to give our kids some gifts this Christmas. I know that God will reward this person for what they did in secret.

We have the prospect of having valuable work done on our house to help us in our long-term needs. That will go a long way toward our being able to stay here.

I have a friend who understands chronic pain and spinal cord problems because he suffers from it too. People like me need others who can relate to us on our pain and symptoms. The frustration and the depression can get overwhelming and having someone understand your predicament during those times counts for a lot. It's God's providence.

I can pray over my little ones without worrying about their future or present circumstances, because I know God hasn't carried us this far only to drop us now.

I have the sacrificial blood of Jesus Christ in me and working good in everything I encounter. This eternal grace and forgiveness is the most wonderful and profound act in the universe. And it involves me when it didn't have to because He loves me.

And He loves you, too. That's worth a little turkey with gravy, don't you think?

The Yoke's On Me

It's an odd thing, really, but I find that the only time that I have the energy and a cooperative body, I need to do work that God has lined up for me to do. I never have the energy for all of my self-initiated projects, efforts and plans. It's almost as if I am being micromanaged by God. "Yes, you may do this. No, you may not do that." On the other hand, micromanagement is such a negative term for what I've found to be a truly meaningful process.

When I was fresh out of high school, I started attending a small congregation with Karen, who was then my girlfriend. The church was pastored by Fred Wright, a very good teacher. One of his most memorable sermons had to do with the passage in Matthew 11 where Jesus said,

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Pastor Wright had brought a yoke, which most people have never seen in person before. A yoke is a long, heavy beam designed to lay across the necks of two oxen or other beasts of burden. Two U-shaped brackets are put under the necks and locked into place. Both animals are forced to walk at the pace of the other. Otherwise the yoke twists their necks, causing significant pain for both. An ill-fitting yoke would cause blisters and make the animal useless. So when Jesus said for us to take His yoke, he meant for us to be fastened to him, side by side, moving together. He goes further to correct what most farmers would have thought about yokes by saying that his is easy and light. It was no small deal for oxen to take a load across the neck and pull against it. Most religions I have seen traffic in heavy burdens, all except biblical Christianity.

On one hand, I can look at my situation and say "I'm screwed!" I could say it the old way, "Woe is me!" I've been on that road, and it doesn't lead anywhere I want to go. On the other hand, I could look over at Jesus and do what He's doing. He gets the glory, and I learn how to walk with God in my heart. That’s my hope, my one true way and the only chance for my survival. He came that I could have life, and have it to the hilt. I find it by walking with Him, not wandering project to project. When I die, I don’t want people to say, “Boy, that Steve sure worked hard and got a lot of stuff done!” I want them to say, “He loved his God, his bride and his family, and he loved them well.”

Why I Won't Post Poetry

I've had a long-standing rule on my blog. I will not post poetry. In a world with so much bad poetry and an abuser-friendly forum such as the blogosphere, there's no reason for me to subject myself to criticism (or praise) because there is certainly more than enough verse out there already to hurt your eyes with.

On the other hand, there's an exception to this rule, and good poetry shines so much more because of it. Kristina Campbell, who blogs under the name of Onfire, posted one such beauty recently. Now, beauty is somewhat subjective and depending on the reader, this poem either grabs you or it leaves you wondering. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than two old lovebirds sharing the flame of love they have kept alight since their youth together. That's what I want to be when I grow old.