hachoo! car

I love Benny-isms!

One that he has coined and popularized lately is the Hachoo! car.  He's obsessed with Hachoo! cars.  He talks about them daily... looks for them when we are driving... wants me to buy one... wants me to turn his pedal car into one.

What is a Hachoo! car?

You mean you don't know?

Well... a Hachoo! car is this:

Snot Rod, featured in the movie, Cars... the original Hachoo! car.

Still don't get it?  Maybe this YouTube clip will clear it up a bit:

(An aside, if you've never watched the original movie Cars, you really should... even if you don't have kids... it's a Pixar masterpiece!)

Did you see it?  "Snot Rod" is a sneezing American muscle car that hangs with a group of mischievous import tuner cars.  To Ben, he was the original Hachoo! car, but the term has now become associated with any muscle car with chrome engine parts and blowers protruding through the hood.  Yep... if it's got chrome through the hood... it's a Hachoo! car!

Sorry, Benny, but Dad buying a Hachoo! car is just not in the budget.  But, maybe we'll have to find some good car shows next summer?  Hachoo! cars everywhere!

In lieu of buying one, he has been after me to build him one.  He is convinced if we take the motor off my rototiller and mount it in the hood of his pedal car, it will go really fast!  (He'd also settle for his battery operated circular saw mounted on the hood for it's motor noise.)  That, son, is called a go-kart!  Maybe I should consider that... in a size that Dad can fit so I can get a lower budget Hachoo! car fix along with you!

Love this kid!

peace

Faith is a topic that is woven here and there throughout my blog posts, but I don't over-spiritualize things here... at least I don't think so.  I sometimes write about faith in topical or reflective ways, but I am very hesitant to report "God moments".  However, Sunday past was a bit of a unique day that merits a post.

It started like many other Sundays... getting myself up and making sure all four kids were up and moving in time to get out the door for church by nine.  Once at church, the three older kids went to their classes and I made a bathroom stop with Benny and dropped him at his Sunday School class, then settled into a pew in the sanctuary for the worship service.

I attend a fairly large church where I know almost nobody (because I feel they are accommodating to children with disabilities).  At first, it felt very lonely to attend worship services by myself and be surrounded by hundreds of strangers, but I have mostly grown accustomed to it.  Although I believe interaction with others is valuable and I sometimes wish I had some guy-friends at church, there are times when I like the loneliness.  I can lift my voice boldly in songs of praise to my God because I am joining with hundreds of other voices, yet I am essentially an unknown face and I can just be "me", without any expectations that church folk sometimes place on each other.  At this point in my life, it works.

On this Sunday, I was just a bit earlier than usual, so I took a moment to enjoy the solitude of the sanctuary.  Though there were many people gathered, I was undisturbed as I took in the atmosphere...dimmed lights, tasteful holiday decor, and a soft pre-worship instrumental music.  I quickly felt relaxed and reverent as I anticipated a good service ahead.

I had plenty of time to check my phone and make sure it was on vibrate (in case Ben's teachers needed me).  While on my phone, I decided to do a facebook "check-in"... something I only very occasionally do.  I don't use it often, but I selected the "feeling" option and scrolled through the choices.  I was looking for something like "reverent", but it was not there.  I couldn't find a feeling that perfectly matched the moment, but after debating a few I selected "peaceful".  I hit post and told all my friends I was feeling peaceful at ******** Church of the Christian and Missionary Alliance.  Then the service began.

(names deleted for my own privacy)

My Pastor is currently doing a series on characters in the Christmas story.  This particular day, he featured Joseph and Mary. He spoke of the uncertainty that they both faced when their lives were turned upside down by the news that Mary was with child .  He shared how their initial reaction was fear and doubt, but their turmoil gave way to peace as an angel visited them both independently with the message, "do not be afraid".  Although their path had difficulties, they each chose to respond with acceptance and obedience to the change of plans in their lives.  He then challenged us by asking what areas of our lives do we need God's message of peace in the words "do not be afraid"?

Wow... message of peace!  Ironically, moments before I reported feeling peaceful.  But, as I examined my life in the quiet reflective moments of the service, I had to admit my life is characterized by many fears and doubts... and I actually have very little peace.  In those moments, I felt God's spirit prompting me that I am facing very uncertain days ahead and I am living in fear.  I fear the result of my failing marriage.  I fear the uncertainty of a seemingly unavoidable divorce.  I fear what will become of my relationship and time with my kids.  I fear the finances of divorce and the finances (or lack thereof) after the dust of divorce settles.

I am always very nervous about sharing "God moments" because it's not like I heard audible voices, but at that moment, I felt like the words of those scriptures were put there just for me... "do not be afraid".  It was almost as if God were putting his fatherly arm around my shoulder and telling me, "I know these are uncertain times and it's likely to get worse before it gets better, but do not be afraid... I'm right here with you, son."  I breathed a short prayer and asked God to give me a spirit of acceptance, obedience, trust and peace in the midst of my circumstances.

That afternoon was sunny and in the 50's, which is rare for December in northeast Ohio.  I decided to head out to a local State Park in the late afternoon for a few hours of quiet in the form of hiking and geocaching.  The park was nearly deserted this time of year and I thoroughly enjoyed the mild December day.

Geocaching often brings you to spots like this!

On my return back to the car, I hiked a trail that went along the edge of a cliff that bordered the lake.  The sun was beginning to set and the sky was illuminating with brilliance.  I stopped a few times to take a few photos as I hiked.

Wow!

I thought it couldn't get any better, but the colors just kept improving...

At one point I stopped hiking, laced my hands behind my head, crossed my feet, stretched out on the ground at the cliff's edge and just watched the finale.  I stayed there until almost dark.  There was not another person anywhere around and it was one of the most tranquil moments I have experienced in a long time.  It almost felt like I was the only person on earth.  As I laid there, Pastor's sermon came back to mind and I ruminated on the words some more.  I spent some moments in prayer, which seemed natural in the tranquility of the "sanctuary".  Again... "God moments" aren't abundant in my life, but it was almost as if God once again put his arm around my shoulder and said, "son, you asked for greater peace... I made these moments just for you!"

I drove my old high-mileage car home without mishap and parked it in the driveway.  About an hour later, I needed to pick up Lily at a Bible club she attends at the church up the road.  I jumped back in my car and as I stepped on the brake to put the car in gear, a brake line blew out and the pedal went to the floor... sitting still in my driveway!  In the theme of the day, it was just one more way the sermon and my prayers came back to roost... almost as if the fatherly arm was once more on my shoulder with the message... "life won't always be easy, but I've got your back... do not be afraid!"

I'm still fearful of unknowns... I'm human, after all.  But, my fear won't change any of the outcomes.  However, I am thankful for the reminders that even though there may be storm clouds ahead, I'm facing them with the God who paints sunsets, and in that I can find some peace.  

WWJD?

What Would Jesus... Drive?

Ben often sneaks a car in a pocket when he goes out the door.  I casually patted him down as I was putting his coat on to go to church this morning, and I thought we were car free.  He's slick, though, and evidently the white Porsche 911 went to Sunday School with him, as evidenced by the new "custom" look.  It's too detailed for Ben's handiwork, so I knew there was something more to the story on this one. 

I asked Ben where the stickers came from.  

His response: "My teacher helped... it's the Jesus car."

I'm not sure Jesus would drive an older blinged-out Porsche 911 with a gold cross on the hood and gold star-shaped rims, but I love anything that has Ben talking about Jesus!  And, I love that the folks in his Sunday School class take the time and energy to meet Ben where he is and introduce Jesus in ways that may be just a little bit out of the box.

So... Jesus car, it is!

addition subtraction addition

Probably one of my life's worst decisions to date was the purchase of this place I call home.  It has been the bane of my existence for lo these many years.  I grew up just eight miles from my present home and, at the time we purchased it, I was working near here and commuting about an hour.  Moving to our present town cut my commute to about fifteen minutes.  (Life has changed a lot since then and I'm now commuting an hour back in the other direction, but that's another story!)

As a kid, I had a fascination with floor plans... those birds-eye maps of the inside of a structure that lets you see every room, doorway, closet, hallway... or even secret passageway (if one existed) all at the same time.  Unlike walking through a building or home and only truly knowing what you can physically see in each area, the floor plan allows you to virtually walk through but know exactly what is beyond every wall.  Maybe I'm weird, but I found them fascinating (and still do).

I remember in younger grades, my friend Brian and I would draw floor plans in our spare time at school.  They were Dr. Seuss-like floor plans that could never feasibly be built in three dimensions, but were wildly creative in two dimensions... with indoor pools and game rooms and secret passages galore (that lead to many of the same places the non-secret passages lead, but one never knows when you want to go from the game room to the kitchen for a snack without anybody knowing how you got there!)

Later, in high school, Brian and I took a mechanical drawing class together (back in the day of old-fashioned paper, pencil and t-square drawings), where we spent the school year drawing various mechanical parts and widgets that were never really going to be machined, all the while listening to John Cougar's Jack and Diane every day on the radio. (I swear, in 1980-something they played that song EVERY hour, EVERY day!)  However, the assignment that I couldn't wait to be assigned was the end of the year project.  Our local newspaper had a small weekly feature of a sketch of a home floor plan.  I used to enjoy this feature and get my weekly geek on as I poured over every voyeuristic detail of the inside of each house.  For a few bucks, you could order a non-building "blueprint" of the home, and from that print you could order the much more expensive building sets.  For our assignment, we had to pick a home from the newspaper and order the "blueprint".  Using it as a model, we had to draw our own set of dimensioned building plans, complete with 4-sided elevations and site map.  I ordered my plans and couldn't wait for them to arrive.  I loved every hour spent on the drafting stool crafting my floor plans.  Of course, I got an "A" on my final project... and I still have those drawings.  (Incidentally, my buddy Brian later hired an architect to draw building plans of a very slightly modified version of the house he drew in the class.  He physically built it himself and currently lives in it!)

Fast forward to 2001 and I was very dissatisfied with my chosen career.  Another friend, Phil, was an architect and looking to hire a draftsman.  He approached me one day and asked me if I had any interest in learning the trade of CAD (Computer Aided Drafting).  Any interest?  Heck yeah!  He trained me as a draftsman and I spent every day doing something I really enjoyed... pouring over each new sketch as I did those black-and-white newspaper sketches years earlier.  That job went away with the crash of the housing market in 2008, but that, too, is another story.

So what does all of that have to do with my present home?

It was originally a 1920's vintage 3 bed, 1 bath colonial, to which someone later added 2 separate additions on the back.  The home had inherent interior floorplan flaws and was in much need of updating, but the me that had loved floor plans since childhood and the me that was then employed as an architectural draftsman walked through it and saw not what it was, but what it could be.  I fell in love with a vision, and I had a dream of taking that vision beyond my ability to draw it and actually create it.  And, that is where good old common sense evidently failed me.  I convinced my wife to purchase it and I have paid a very dear price (in many different ways) for that decision.

Despite the bad decision, the interior is now about 75% brand new... gutted, walls moved, rewired, replumbed, reducted, drywalled, etc.  Though it came at a high cost, I am proud of what has been accomplished.  But, there was one very major detail that has haunted me a LONG time.

The first addition that someone added to the home was the 2-story area on the rear of the home (to the right in the pic below).  It tied in nicely with the existing hip-style roof and was fairly well done, making the home L-shaped.  Later someone added a second horribly constructed addition of an enclosed porch and sunroom (to the left in the pic below).  This addition had a flat roof that was very problematic and leaky.  I knew this when I purchased the home, and I had an idea what I wanted to do to remedy it.  For a number of reasons, though, that was always put off, partly because it was a big (and a little scary) project.  

1st addition (right),  family room with 4th bedroom above

2nd addition (left), enclosed porch with sunroom above

The roof leaks in that area of the house got worse and I decided I needed to get serious about tackling it.  By this time, we were not actually using the porch/sunroom area, so I gutted it to study the structure and plan my roof redesign.  What I discovered was that it was so poorly constructed, the parts of the structure I was planning to salvage and update were not even salvageable.  I did some measuring and some calculating and visualized a necessary (and more costly than I had in mind) complete tear down and rebuild of this area.  I probably could have built the new addition myself, but I decided I didn't want to and didn't really have time.  So, I consulted with a local contractor about the project.  I provided him only 2 hand-drawn sketches (below) and asked him if they could tear it off and build something that looked like this.  They understood my vision and we hashed out a contract.

Before... the flat-roofed menace

I stripped the original siding and salvaged it for re-use.

I also salvaged the aluminum storm windows for scrap.

A buddy salvaged the old window sashes for the antique glass.

My part of the demo/salvage done and the contractor's "before"

All but floor and foundation came down in one day... good riddance!

Down to the ground, demo done the second day

[Insert ghost story here]  I didn't get a photo of it (because it was too dark), but under the floor deck, in the earthen crawlspace, we discovered a very dead floral arrangement in a very old dusty basket... the kind you might see at a funeral.  It was laying on it's side on the dirt in the middle of the crawlspace... sort of like you would see placed on a fresh grave.  So, it begs the question... just whom did they bury here and build a porch over?  And, since we didn't dig around, just whom did we build my new porch over?  My theory is that it was poor Uncle Joe, who couldn't afford a cemetery plot and loved sitting on porches.  Uncle Joe probably passed away just as they were getting ready to build the last addition, so they planted him, placed flowers on his grave, and built a porch over him.  He must approve of the new porch, because he has yet to make a haunting appearance through all the disturbances of the renovation.  I affectionately now refer to the new porch as "Uncle Joe's porch".

The new design is a porch below with a walk-in closet/storage room above

After

The "finished" product... at least the paid portion of finished.  I will take it from here and finish the closet interior and the porch interior, which is planned to be enclosed as a screened porch... someday!

I really didn't like writing the checks for this addition subtraction addition, but it is a relief to have it done and a big monkey off my back.  I am very happy with the result... it looks just as I envisioned it.  I have to admit that I have been ashamed of my house since I purchased it because of this mess of an addition.  It's not completely finished, and though I acknowledge it is still one of my worst decisions... I now at least have a home for my family of which I am proud.

trumpet with honors

Again this year, Zachary applied and was chosen for the OMEA District 5 Middle School Honors Band.  The Middle School Honors Band is comprised of select 7th and 8th grade band students from school systems across three counties, who come together for a concert performance at the historic Stambaugh Auditorium.  They meet just three times: Wednesday evening at an area high school for position tryouts and rehearsal; all day Friday at Stambaugh for rehearsal; then, a Saturday morning rehearsal followed by an afternoon concert.

This year, there were 22 trumpets in the band.  Zachary's audition netted him the position of 1st trumpet, 7th chair.  I was very proud of this!  However, Zachary's reaction: "I could've done better without these stupid braces".  Unfortunately, braces and trumpets are not very compatible.  He has learned to adapt, but his note range suffers a little.  And, that's not all that suffers... with the hours of rehearsal, his lips took a beating between the braces and the brass mouthpiece.  He takes it in stride... he loves blowing that horn!

Zachary (dark hair, white shirt, black tie, just left of center)

I took Lily and my parents with me to the concert, but we almost didn't make it.  I knew there was construction on the interstate, but Jen said there were no backups yesterday morning when she took him to rehearsal.  I figured if it wasn't backed up on a Friday morning, we'd have no problems on a Saturday afternoon.  No such luck!  Part way there, we encountered 3 lanes of this...

... miles of bumper-to bumper traffic as three lanes merged into one.  My stress levels increased as I watched minutes tick away as I crept through traffic at an I-can-walk-faster-than-this pace, fearing I would miss my son's performance that he had worked so hard for.  At my first opportunity, I exited and took an alternate route.  We arrived at Stambaugh... I dropped my passengers at the door, parked the car, jogged across the parking lot, and settled into a balcony seat just as the conductor began the first piece!  That was close!

Stambaugh Auditorium is a very majestic concert hall.  It is an honor for these students to play in such a venue.  And, both years I have attended, they have delivered a performance worthy of Stambaugh.  I was amazed at the talent of these young musicians.  I am thankful for band directors, like our own Mrs. C, who instill a love and appreciation for music, and who pour time end energy into refining the talent of these kids.  Events like today have to be very proud moments for our area band directors.

The guest conductor for this year's Middle School group was Dr. William Ciabattari, Director of Instrumental Ensembles and the Music Department Chair at Lycoming College in Williamsport, Pennsylvania.  He shared with the audience how he stresses the importance of his college students playing chamber music, which is small instrumental ensembles.  He spoke of how it is sometimes easy for musicians to "hide" behind the large band or orchestra, but small groups of chamber music forces them to refine their talent and it builds their confidence as musicians.  He shared how he stressed this message to the students and taught them that they really have learned a lot about music in their short career and they are often capable of more than they realize.  To reinforce this message, he introduced a piece titled Activity March, composed by Harold Bennett.  He told the audience that he had confidence in the abilities of the students and he was going to prove how capable they were by starting the piece and then walking off the podium, leaving them to play the entire piece without a conductor.  He did just that, and they did not disappoint!  It was a very cool concert moment and a very valuable lesson for these kids!

Zachary, today was a proud Dad day!  I am proud of your music abilities and I am glad you push yourself with opportunities like this.  Hopefully, on to High School Honors Band next year!

Here is a friend's video of one of the Middle School Honors Band selections, titled Revenge of the Dust Bunnies, composed by Dan Adams.  The piece showcases the student's serious talent, while performing a not-so-serious rendition. Enjoy!

enduring golf

Golf... the car... not the game!

As an adult, I still buy an occasional Hot Wheels or Matchbox car when one catches my eye.  I don't think I'll ever outgrow the allure of a bright, shiny new car... for less than a buck!  

Years ago, I bought a Matchbox VW Golf casting, because at the time I drove that very car... except, mine was blue instead of red; and it was a four-door instead of two; and it had the steering wheel on the left, instead of the right like all cast-as-European-but-sold-in-America Matchbox cars... but, I digress.  I'm not sure why, but I gave that car to Dylan as a tiny tyke when he was first deemed old enough to safely have one of his own.  I almost wish I'd have kept the Matchbox Golf, because I loved my actual Golf.  But, then it wouldn't have the history that it does now.

It was Dylan's very first Hot Wheels/Matchbox-type car.  He used and enjoyed it much, and it often went with him when we left the house.  It was a prized possession.  Eventually, though, his car collection grew and other new shiny cars would take the favored spot.  Occasionally, cars would get misplaced here and there, but the VW, though no longer the flashiest car in the collection, was never forgotten.  The VW endured.

Years later, along came Ben.  At a very young age, Ben was fascinated (and still is) with Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars.  His obsession with them caused him to "acquire" the two older boys collections when they weren't looking.  They would reclaim them, and he would "reacquire" them.  It was a viscous cycle, and eventually the boys gave up the battle and just let Ben have their cars... although I think they are still a little cheesed.  (I know I would be!  My small collection is in a secure location... or at least I thought they were, until he breached my security a few weeks ago when I caught him with one of my 1970's vintage Hot Wheels!)

I've never counted them, but at age seven, Ben now has well over a hundred, possibly approaching a few hundred cars (and is still thrilled over every new one).  A number have been misplaced over the years.  Some reappear in couch cushions, under car seats, or the pocket of a coat that has not been worn for months.  Others have vanished and been sucked into a die cast car black hole, never to be seen again.

But, there is one, battered and nearly devoid of paint, acquired from Dylan, that is still a beloved favorite of Ben's.  And, for years it has withstood the pull of the black hole.

That car is...

the one and only... the original... the enduring Golf!

Matchbox VW Golf

My 1986 VW Golf (no longer enduring)

puppy dog eyes

Ben LOVES dogs!

He's drawn to any stranger walking a dog.  He has numerous stuffed animal dogs, each one named... Grady, Toby, Rocket, Alex, Murphy, Mommy Dog, Jake, Jake and Jake (apparently, he likes the name Jake).  He fell in love with a big yellow lab named Grady, belonging to Jen's Aunt and Uncle.  If you spend any time talking to Ben, it will often involve cars, trucks, tires or dogs.

For a few years, there has been talk in our home about Ben having a dog of his own.  Dogs are often good companions for children with disabilities and images of Ben curled up with a loving patient dog were tempting.

However, with four kids, don't we already have enough living things to feed and care for?  That's been my take on it, anyway.  But, then again, I'm not a dog guy.  I was mauled (well, it seemed like it, anyway) by a pair of German Shepherds at my bus stop around about first grade, and I haven't had much use for canines since.

Jen, on the other hand, grew up with various family dogs.  She has wanted a family dog, and she has led most of the talk of Ben having a dog.  I admit, though, to some moments of weakness, but I quickly came to my senses... well... until recently.

A part of me wondered what it would be like to have a family dog.  I have agreed for some time that Ben should have a dog.  But, I have no tolerance for pet hair and I continued to put my wishes of not having a dog over Ben's wishes to have a dog.

Recently, Jen made the comment that Ben feels like a kid who is not complete without a dog and I could not argue with that.  His birthday was in September, and he asked for... you guessed it... a dog!

We had already done some dog research here and there.  So, we started looking again in earnest to decide which dog MIGHT be suited for our family (I was still not committed fully).  The criteria for a dog to pass was as follows:

• 6 people in about 1600 square feet... can't be a big dog
• 2 kids with asthma... hypoallergenic
• Dad can't stand pet hair... non-shedding
• Benny can be rough... durable small to medium dog

We decided on a Havanese.  They are a non-shedding, hypoallergenic breed that is on the larger end of the small breed group.  They are more durable than many of the small breeds.  Full-grown, they are about 12-15 pounds.

The Saturday before Ben's birthday, I told him we were going to go "visit" some puppies.  I wanted to leave myself an out, and Benny is obsessive about things, so I couldn't tell him we "might get a dog".  We went to visit some Havanese pups and we came home with... Cecil!

The moment we told Ben "Happy Birthday, this is your dog!"  Cecil looks pretty unsure!

The first week home

Cecil current... 4 1/2 months old

The verdict is still out on Cecil.  Lily loves him.  Of the two older boys, one is fairly indifferent to him and the other has little use for him.  Benny loves him, but instead of calming him, it has had the opposite effect.  Cecil makes him more hyper.  He runs around the house, chases him, pulls his tail, and picks him up in ways that Cecil does not like.  The poor little pup tries hard to be patient, but the two just aren't hitting it off.  Cecil sometimes loses his patience with Benny and growls or nips at him.  We are afraid one, or both, of them may get hurt.  The warm fuzzy images of a boy and his dog are just not happening yet.

I am hoping it gets better when we get through puppyhood.  I am hoping we don't regret Cecil.  He's a cute little guy and I have my moments of finding him irresistible... but they are mixed with moments of finding him frustrating.  For a guy who was definitely not a dog guy, though, Cecil has managed to somewhat change my opinion of dogs.  After all, how could you resist a face like that?

treatise on marriage

A wedding happens when two starry-eyed lovers recite promise-laden words to one another.

But, a marriage happens when the same two folks spend a lifetime learning just what it was they promised.

Because I consider myself a self-proclaimed writer, I want to use this medium to clarify and solidify what 18 years has taught me about just what it was I promised.

Despite promises, our marriage has been slowly imploding for much of it's duration (see previous post, state of the union)... something to which we have each, in different ways, contributed. While we both may be able to find seemingly valid reasons for divorce (probably validated by our respective circles of influence), I want to publicly go on record that it has never been and is not my wish to do so.  I have fought over the course of the last four to five years to defend my marriage and my family, without result.  I write such statements at risk of sounding like a hero... I am not.  For if I were, my marriage probably would not be in its present state.  Perhaps I should have worked harder years ago.  But, marriage is on-the-job training, and often when we finally figure out we suck at it, a lot of damage has been done... at least it appears to be the case for me.

My vows to my wife were of the traditional variety. They went something like this:

I, Jeff, take you Jennifer, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; until death do us part.

The truth is, it's not all about better, richer and health.  Everyone wants these in a relationship.  But, in every marriage there will be some amount of worse, poorer and sickness.  Some more than others.  How that is handled is often where the strength of a relationship is built.

Marriage is a series of choices.  It starts with a choice to select just one person from a seemingly infinite number of people, and promise to stand by them for a lifetime, through all of life's ups and downs. Sometimes the ups and downs are from without the marriage-- life just throwing stuff at you-- but all too often the ups and downs are from within the marriage... hurts caused by our own human imperfections.

I am in no way excusing bad behavior or poor decisions with what I am about to say.  On the contrary... I have attempted to own my errors (see slogan for life).  But, here's the thing... we are human.  Humans are imperfect.  Marriage is two imperfect people coming together and trying to build a perfect union.  For that to work, there has to be grace... a LOT of grace.  And there's another choice.  The choice to forgive (not excuse) imperfections.  The choice to extend grace.

And rightly so.  Our Creator, God, designed marriage to be a visual representation of His relationship with His creation.  Christians represent the "bride" of Christ, but He created us with a free will.  A will that allows poor choices.  He doesn't excuse those poor choices, but he does extend grace when there is repentance of mistakes.  For marriage to succeed, it must follow this example, though it is difficult, at times.

For me, the deal is this... I committed to stand by my bride through "better OR worse"... without even being able to imagine, at the time, what the worse may be.  I was making a lifetime promise to an imperfect human for which fulfillment would require extending grace toward her (something I struggle with).  And, being an imperfect human, myself, I would need a healthy amount of grace in return.

Casting Crowns voiced it well in their recent song, Broken Together...

What do you think about when you look at me
I know we're not the fairytale you dreamed we'd be
You wore the veil, you walked the aisle, you took my hand
And we dove into a mystery 

How I wish we could go back to simpler times
Before all our scars and all our secrets were in the light
Now on this hallowed ground, we've drawn the battle lines
Will we make it through the night?

It's going to take much more than promises this time
Only God can change our minds 

Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete
Could we just be broken together?
If you can bring your shattered dreams and I'll bring mine
Could healing still be spoken and save us?
The only way we'll last forever, is broken together 

Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete.  Could we just be broken together?  Wow!  That pretty well captures it, doesn't it?

But, my bride is just the first layer.  I see my vows extending beyond Jen.  On my wedding day, I was also making unspoken vows to the future children who would be conceived and adopted within this union... four of them.  Enshrined in my marriage vows were promises to Dylan... to Zachary... to Lily... and to Benny.  Promises to provide them a secure, intact and permanent family to grow up in as children and come home to as adults; to provide an example of following through with commitments and not quitting even when life is hard, disappointing or nothing like it was envisioned; to be an example of an enduring marriage they can anchor to when their own future marriages may be adrift... an example like both my parents and my parents-in-law have provided.  How one deals with the good, the bad and the ugly of marriage has enormous lessons for the young lives watching, and I owe it to them not to give up easily.

I didn't realize the full magnitude then, but my vows were huge.  Speaking for myself, I have struggled in some ways to live up to them, but because I am heavily invested in these five lives as a result of my marriage vows, I believe my marriage and my family is worth fighting for.  I can't just do what is good for me or what makes me happy, because "me" is now permanently grafted to them.  I have to factor what is good and best for a me that extends to six, and I have to look beyond just the present conflict with a long-sighted view.  I believe in vows; I believe in marriage; I believe in family; I believe in forever; and I believe in fixing what's broken rather than discarding it.

Even when feelings of love are virtually nonexistent, at the gut level love is a choice.  I believe if two folks decide together to fight the fight for reconciliation-- to fight for each other more than they fight with each other-- then the feelings can be revived and a marriage rebuilt.  

And, that's my current Treatise on Marriage.  If divorce is my fate, and it appears it someday will be, then I will resign myself to accept it and do my best to rebuild my life.  But, up to the moment of this writing, I maintain that I may have reason to consider it, but it is not my desire.  This family is worth fighting for.

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Author's note:  Due to the sensitive nature of this post, please make no public comments.  If you wish to comment, please do so privately directly on this blog, where they are moderated (in this case, read but not published).  You may also use my email or facebook messenger, if you have access to those.  Any public facebook comments will be deleted.

state of the union

Difficult.  But, I feel I must...

I am a very private person in most areas of my life.  Sometimes to a prideful fault.  But, the blogger in me and my style of blogging is sometimes a contradiction to that.  My blog is a virtual [limited] public scrapbook of a combination of life events and profound [to me] thoughts.  Some posts are a cathartic processing of thoughts that have a healthy dose of vulnerability.  It is an odd vulnerability that only similar bloggers may understand.  But, after seven years of blogging (yes, BoF is seven years old!), I have discovered a writer within that must continue... if for no other reason than to leave a virtual memoir that my kids may look back over to some day better understand dad.

For that reason, I want and need my blog to be real.

Many online self-published formats often make life look better than reality.  It's natural, I think, and I am probably somewhat guilty.  But, I need my blog to be a little raw, at times, because life can be raw.  I want my kids to read it someday and see real life, not just content that is edited to the point of portraying everything better than they remembered it.

I have often wrestled with how much vulnerability is okay and what is just nunya business.  I wrestle with disclosing things in my blog that involve others and what is an acceptable level of privacy to maintain on their behalf.  This is true of blogging about subjects like Benny's disabilities.  And, it is true of this present subject, as well.

For quite some time, my blogging has felt stifled.  Part of the reason for this is, while pictures may make us look like a happy family, I am not in one of those 50 year marriages written about in the post, fifty [two]!

My marriage is very much in trouble.

Well, that is an understatement...

My marriage is essentially dead.

To some, this statement may seem sudden and my discussion of it in this blog may seem out of place.  The truth is, serious talk of divorce/dissolution has been on the table multiple years, now.  But with four kids and one income, that is just not very feasible.  Jen's current education pursuit will make this choice theoretically more feasible in a few years (he says, believing divorce is never really very feasible, especially involving kids).  For now, we are still functioning as a somewhat fractured family.

My kids (except Benny) are mostly aware of this, so I'm not outing anything here for them to accidentally read.  In order for my blog to be real, I just need to put it out there so I am free to write honestly about my life, if I so choose.

I have tried to figure out how to write about this subject honestly, yet keep things positive and avoid public spouse bashing that is now more prevalent, courtesy of social media.  I have decided the best way to do that is to voice my views on marriage/divorce and possibly chronicle some of the lessons I have learned... the hard way.  Although in these situations, it often appears to each partner to be the other partner's fault, rarely are marriages wrecked single-handedly, and true to that, our marital pain is a two-way street.

So, the state of the union?

My union?

Well, unfortunately, it appears to be in critical condition and labeled "Do Not Resuscitate".

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Author's note:  Due to the sensitive nature of this post, please make no public comments.  If you wish to comment, please do so privately directly on this blog, where they are moderated (in this case, read but not published).  You may also use my email or facebook messenger, if you have access to those.  Any public facebook comments will be deleted.

band legacy

I was not in my school band, but I wish I would have been.  So, I'm a very proud Band Dad.  And that's why I'm tickled that another of my children has joined the school band!

In our school system, band is an option beginning in fifth grade, and Lily decided to follow in her two older brother's footsteps and give band a try.  She is more literally following in Zach's footsteps... also choosing the trumpet as her instrument.  That can make for some competition or camaraderie between the two middles... time will tell how it goes with two trumpets in the house!

I am confident she will do well.  Her fourth grade class learned to play the recorder in music class and the teacher had a "karate belt" recognition theme.  Throughout the school year, as they performed increasingly complex songs, they got a colored yarn "belt" tied around the bell of their recorder.  Lily was one of only three students who achieved all the way to black belt and asked for more.  The teacher had to make up some other belts for her... she has a glitter belt and a few other fun ones.  Her music teacher also recognized her at the fourth grade Grandparent's Day performance for her determination and her self-driven efforts to compensate for her limb difference.  With that determination, I'm sure she will master the trumpet!

Lily is a black belt and beyond recorder master!

I'm looking forward to her debut 5th grade concert later this school year and hoping she stays with band for the rest of her school career.  Go Lily!

stepping up

I'm ready for an upcoming weekend at home, but I had opportunity to throw on the backpack and sleep in a tent in the woods again this weekend... that makes two weekends in a row.  Autumn disappears quickly... I'll take it!

I invited my brother and nephew to backpack with us this year.  When we compared our schedules, they only matched for October 31st.  I didn't really want to wait that long in the season, because the weather could get questionable and the window could close without getting to go.  I told my brother that we were going earlier (only by a week, as it turned out), but I/we would consider going twice.

In the meantime, my brother had an idea for a slightly modified trip.  He got permission to use Stony Glen Camp as the location and proposed that we do a "men's retreat" of sorts... a little backpacking (about a mile on Saturday and a mile on Sunday), a night of camping (Stony Glen has a few primitive campsites off the beaten path), and a four-part men's Bible study video series titled, Stepping Up (produced by Family Life Ministries, where he is a member of the ministry staff).

I liked the idea (and I've never backpacked into November before), so we worked out the details and I made the boys go with me (one of them needed a little more forcing than the other, but they neither put up too big of a fight).

We met Saturday morning at Stony Glen

He's here... as long as neatness doesn't count!

On our hike into camp, we stopped at Borderline Falls, one of five beautiful waterfalls within the camp property.  There was a fallen tree across the top of the falls and one of the boys had the idea to push it off the falls.  I didn't think it could be done... it was pretty big.  So, then it became a manly challenge!  We team lifted and pushed it and were able to move it inch by inch closer to the edge.  we got it very near the edge, but it was still wedged at the top and it was too close to the edge to safely push any further.  We then found some smaller logs to use as levers and were able to pry it over the edge.  It only went part way down the falls and stopped at another ledge, but we felt accomplished in working together in a display of testosterone to move the tree!  It was nonsense, really, but it was making memories!

Borderline Falls (top)

There has to be a way to push this log over the falls...

We did it!  The upper part of the falls, sans log.

The log started just below the first ledge

Borderline Falls from below

Climbing back up after admiring our "work"

Camping at Pioneer Point

Pioneer Point is on a bluff above the Grand River

Thanks to iPad technology, we had a packable video screen in camp and we did the first two of four segments of the Stepping Up video series on Saturday afternoon and evening, with plenty of time for hanging out and messing around.  Stony Glen is a beautiful Christian camp and Pioneer Point was a great campsite.

cooking dinner... and drying socks from the waterfall escapades

I'm in this picture... but you might not be able to see me!

We packed out of camp Sunday morning and went about a half mile downstream, where we stopped at another campsite to do the third segment.  Someone had built this cool stone table out of logs and a stone slab.

Reminds me of an old Russ Taff song, Table in the Wilderness

We wrapped up session four with a stop at the two-story tree-house

We ended Sunday by exploring more of Stony Glen's magnificent waterfalls before we headed home.  I enjoyed the weekend and the opportunity to spend some time with my boys, brother, and nephew.  I'm glad I got my backpacking fix the prior weekend, because this weekend's shorter hiking mileage would not have been enough to scratch the itch.  But, I really liked the second weekend of combined backpacking and men's retreat.  

The Stepping Up video series is well done and affirmed some areas I'm doing a pretty good job and challenged me in some areas where I need improvement.  Although some of the content didn't apply to the boys, much of it gave good foundational principles for them to build on as they approach manhood, if they will apply them.  I was happy that all three of the boys participated in discussion times, which indicates that they were engaged in the material.

Thanks, David, for the idea and for putting this together for us!

Big Falls

My brother and nephew

Cascade Falls

Small Falls