A Heavy Sigh

The Road Not Taken, From Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Below I will post the last stanza of this poem, but I encourage you to click the link above and read the whole poem (it is not long).  It ends with this:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Perhaps some people read this as inspirational to take the road less traveled (based on the final line “And that has made all the difference”, but I do not.

The key to the meaning behind this poem is hidden in the first line of this final stanza:

I shall be telling this with a sigh

I added the emphasis on “sigh”, for it is with this single word that I think the poem’s secret lies.  There is a heaviness in this foretold recolection of having taken the road less traveled by.  Just because it was this decision that made all the difference, does not make it a better decision by any means.  In fact, I believe that by adding the word “sigh”, the other is trying to warn us of something… that road, the one less traveled… it’s not as easy. It is hard. And it is hard simply because it is less traveled by.

Profound. Truly.

Some people want to be unique, special, an individual like no other.  To be a rebel and go against the grain, to travel the road less traveled.  But it is almost as if Frost is warning of the temptation to do what teachers are always telling kids to do – be an individual, don’t follow the crowd, stand out and be unique.  Really? At what cost?

I’ve been down that road, and I too shall be telling, with a sigh, that because I chose the road less traveled, it has, indeed, made all the difference.

But I should stop, for a moment of reflection.  Because my first reaction to the word “sigh” was to think that it was with some “regret” that the author reported that he took the road less traveled.  But perhaps “regret” is the wrong feeling or emotion.  No, perhaps it is simply what a sigh so often is… a pause, but a weary pause at that. A tired, reflective, introspective pause.  It may not be regret at all.  It may simply be a heaviness carried over the “ages and ages” from walking alone… seeing the woods around you in a way that the other travelers never did nor ever will.

It is like the man released from Plato’s cave – who sees the world as it is, outside of the cave of shadows, and returns to tell his friends that what they are seeing is not, in fact, real.  And he is booed.  He is insulted and told to leave.  He is called crazy, among other things, because they walked the road that the others walked – they saw the woods from that angle, and anyone who says there is even another road to walk – is downright insane.

It’s a heaviness.  A burden.  A lonely journey, but not necessarily a regretted journey.

I suppose it is as you want to see it.  Would you rather walk alone, seeing the world from a different perspective, having the masses not understand you or support your claims of a different viewpoint?  Or would you want to walk the weathered road, step by step with friends and family and familiarity?  A road where everyone agrees with you because you share the same experiences. It does seem nice.

But maybe there is a weight and heaviness to Frost’s “sigh” that is not a burden at all – but instead is just that – weight.  It is full. It is complete.  It is full of memories, experiences, stories, challenges, discoveries, disappointments, surprises, victory, defeat, loneliness, enlightenment, confusion, joy, sorrow, contentedness, beauty, darkness, light…. all the things life can and should be made of.  It is the finishing a very long book sort of sigh.  The finishing of a marathon sigh.  It is full of adventure, perserverience and fulfillment.

That is the road I want to travel, no matter how lonely it may seem at times.  And I hope the “sigh” in “ages and ages hence” is full of weight and fullness, and is not a sigh of regret or of giving up.

Adventures in Grace

The older I get, the more I realize what “grace” is all about.

Perhaps the older you get, the more you personally realize how fucked up you are, and how – for most of us – we never intended to be so dysfunctional.   When you are a teenager, or a young adult, you look at your dysfunctional family and lament how you wish your parents were “normal” and paid more attention to you and didn’t make so many mistakes.  It’s an ideal way of thinking, really, because you have NO idea what it is like to raise a child (or 5 children in my parent’s case).  It’s hard to forgive your parents (or whoever it is in your life) because you just assume they could have been better (and perhaps they could have been) but you never take the chance to weigh in the circumstances and the variables that played into why exactly they were how they were, or why a certain event played out the way it did.

As I grow older, and I experience lapses in patience, bouts of fatigue and sickness that leave me bewildered and hanging on by my fingertips (so to speak), all the while having to take care of toddlers whom I barely relate with, I am beginning to “understand” how hard it is to be perfect… how utterly impossible it is.  And it is, perhaps, out of a desperate need of grace (mainly from those I let down) that I am beginning to understand it more and more.

There are so many problems with the assumption that someone is “bad” and can be “better”.  

Well, no. Let me restate that.  Because it’s obvious that a man or woman who takes advantage of children in some hurtful way is indeed “bad” and needs to be “better”.  Or a man or woman who cheats and steals is in fact “bad” and hurting others and needs to get “better”.

No, that’s safe to say.
So let me try again.

There are so many problems with the assumption that the reason someone is “bad” is of their own “evil” doing and because they have brought this on themselves and they just need to “make a decision” and they will get “better” – the old “repent”, or “turn the other way”.  

Any assumption is dangerous, as every situation is different… but that’s exactly my point – every situation is different, and grace is needed in all situations because the fact is – we just don’t know.  You don’t know if the “evil” terrorist just loves hurting people and from an early age made a decision to hate people and hurt people (probably not) or if over years of misinformation, misunderstanding, prejudice, judgements and assumptions – they are acting not out of trying to hurt others or be “evil” or “bad” – but they are simply doing what they feel is right.

My point is this, the more you know about the history of a person, the details behind why they are exactly how they are, the more grace you can have for them.  

I think this perspective comes from having kids.  I look at my girls and think, there is no way any of them could grow up to intentionally hurt (even kill) another person… but I know, it’s possible.  Because it’s happened before.  Children grow up, and some children grow up to be awful human beings who take advantage of others and destroy other people’s lives.  But I DO NOT believe that these people wake up one day and make this decision to hurt others.  I would argue it is mainly other people’s influence and actions towards an individual that determines how that person will turn out.  Now, I don’t believe that 100% of the time, because I’ve seen people react differently to similar circumstances.  One child may turn away from their abusive parents and find peace in a life far away from the hate and pain of their childhood – while their sibling might grow up to resent and hate their parents and allow that hatred to infiltrate their souls and fill them with the exact same bitterness that they were shown.

Maybe what I am saying is that I am believing less and less in free-will.  OMG. I can’t believe I just said that… but more and more I am convinced that people are not to blame for the decisions they make, but instead they are lost, confused and ignorant to what is causing them to act a certain way.  We are so unaware, most of the time, of the stimuli that are affecting the way we are… our mental state, our bodies health, the shows we watch, the people we hang out with…  Grace is needed… grace is forgiveness, it is understanding, it is letting go of the “facts” of someone’s actions and looking beyond that to the person they could be if they were free from all the chains that entrap them, that shape (have shaped) them into what they are.

I believe there is a God that understands all things.  An all-knowing God who sees all and forgives all.  A God who displays grace to all people because that God knows exactly WHY they are the way they are, and exactly what they could be if the things outside of their control were different.

I’m not saying that people don’t get better, and that ultimately it doesn’t begin with an acknowledgement of “sin” or wrong doing, and a turning around / repenting sort of thing.  Sure.  But there is no path back to perfection (at least in this life)… and some chains are permanent… and I believe that, as followers of Jesus, we are called to be like him… to accept all people, no matter how they are, or how they are living, or the things they do – we welcome them and love them and accept them.  It’s not a behavioral religion – Christianity – it shouldn’t be at least.  It is a LOVE religion.  And love, and grace, covers a multitude of sins.

Live with more grace today.  Let things go. Try it. I’m going to.

Will launch later

I have no idea where to begin with this post. It’s hard, when you stop writing, to come back months later and attempt to unload all of your thoughts, feelings, and ideas.  I can never summarize all that has transpired in the time between posts, so it usually ends up being about a specific, relevant thought, feeling, or idea.  But you have to start somewhere. You have to reach down, through the muck, and pull the plug.  And the draining begins.

I am so full of stress. It’s crazy how invisible and hard to diagnose stress is. But it’s heavy, super heavy.  If a scale could measure stress as well as body mass, I’m sure my scale would be off the charts right now.  Perhaps my greatest cause of unrelieved stress is that I never talk about it.  I never pull the plug, and let it drain.  I guess I never think I have to – like I said, this is some invisible stuff.  But right now I feel awful, and it’s either a health issue – or its stress.

So what is so stressful…?  Well, maybe I should make a list:

1. We just moved to a new town
2. … right next door to my in-laws
3. … a new town in which I have no friends
4. … and I know nothing about.
5. I’m working from home (if you don’t work from home, you don’t know how stressful this can be)
6. I’m running my own business
7. I’m parenting when I am not working
8. I’m working on the house when I am not doing one of the two things I just mentioned
9. I have no local friends, no one to call to go see a movie, go get a drink, or to bitch to about how stressed I am
10. Robin is pregnant. And I’m trying to be helpful.
11. Add all of this up, and add on top of it the guilt of feeling stressed, the inability to say anything because I feel like I am complaining – even now I want to apologize for making this list and say I’m not trying to complain. Sheesh.

There you go.

I feel sick. Literally. But I don’t think it’s a disease.  I think it’s stress.

So what do I need?  God, that’s such a hard question.  I have no idea. Somebody help me out here… what do I need?

Our first session of marriage counseling, me and Robin’s counselor asked me: “Jim, what do you need?”

And do you know what I told him?

“I have no idea”.

Why is it so hard for me to admit to what I need? No. Not just admit, I can’t even think of what I need.

Ok, I think I know:

I need someone who cares about me. Is it bad to say, I need someone, who is not my family, and not my wife, to care about me.  You know… usually we call them: friends.  But not friendS – just

—————————————— UPDATE ———————————————-

Weird… I wasn’t done with this post and for some reason WordPress published it.  Strange. Maybe I scheduled it without even knowing.  Hopefully my site was not hacked.

Tracie, thanks for the response, even though I guess this post wasn’t ready yet.  In a way I’m not even sure I was going to publish it…but I guess I’m glad it got published.  I don’t even remember titling this “Will launch later” – strange.  Anyway, more complete thoughts to come in the future.

Kids

There is a left turn red light I will always remember.  It was the left turn that led into Kaiser Permanente in Woodland Hills, CA – and the day was September 30th, 2007.  I sat there, staring at the light, and then turning my head to glance at my very pregnant wife, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach.

I had no idea what lie ahead.

I guess I mark that moment in my head as the last moment of my life before I had kids.  Amalea was born the next morning, on October 1st, 2007.  Maya came two years later, and now we have one more little girl on the way.

See the thing is, once you have kids – you always have kids.  There is no going back, ever.  See it’s different than having a friend or being married.  Because those relationship status’ end. But kids… it does not matter if they were to pass away, you can never rip that relationship away, no matter what.  They have your eyes. They have your personality.  They have your sense of humor and your temper.  They came from you and they are yours, forever.

And so you’re life changes, drastically, when your first child enters the world.  You do not realize it until some time later, but everything changes and there is no way to return to the you-before-kids.

The moment… at that light.  That was someone else.  I was someone else.

But this isn’t really what I wanted to write about tonight, though it does serve as a good introduction.  What I wanted to write about, is in fact this relationship – parent / child.

Having a child is unlike any other experience in life.  It is exhilarating and terrifying.  It is liberating and stifling.  It is magical and it is mundane.

Kids… no wait, not just any kids, YOUR kids – are magical. They are.  I say, YOUR kids, because people without kids hear the word “kids” and immediately think of something 1. small and cute and 2. semi-annoying.  Which is true and all, but there is so… soo….soooo much more. And you can’t see past 1 and 2 unless they are YOUR kids.

Anyway, back to “magical”.  They are. Think about it.  They pop out all bloody and attached to their mom, kicking and screaming.  They barf and crap everywhere and they suck the life out of you, literally.  They demand your attention for every waking hour (and let’s face it, you can’t stop thinking about them after they fall-asleep either).  But over the first two years, they develop into this little person.  This little walking and talking person who has feelings (as primitive as they might be) and has thoughts (like remembering a person or place and stating that they remember).  They play make believe with toys and live in this alternate universe sometimes.  They smile, and frown, and cry, and laugh.  They lash out when they are angry, and they passionately hug you when they are scared or hurt.  In their most precious moments, they tell you they love you (even if it is the young 2 year old who repeats it “I wov you”) and they throw their arms around you and they laugh and scream and run towards you when you have been away from them for a long time.  In some of their forgettable moments, they swing at you, bite you, and tell you “I don’t want to talk to you right now” or just “No. Nothing.”  And there is so much going on inside of them.  It’s such a mystery.

Where did this little person come from?  Seriously, all I did was… well, most of you know what I did.  (-;

Life is so strange.

In the course of 4 years I feel like my life has, in one sense, ended, and in another sense, begun.  And this is how it is, I suppose.  For most of us that choose to procreate, we have kids and there in lies the death of our purposeful, self-important life, and the beginning of a time when we live for our kids.

I suppose it is not this way for some… or maybe most.  They have kids and it is more of a hurdle or a flat tire on their career path.  They struggle through the young years, keeping the kid alive, and then engross themselves again in their pursuit of glory and forget about their offspring.

But that’s not how it is for me (I hope).

I suppose I should be a little more self-indulging and care more about the effect I am having on the world and how I might contribute to bettering the world outside of my family.  But I can’t seem to rekindle my passions outside of my kids!  It’s crazy, I know.

And it’s a little depressing at times, I’ll admit it.  Sometimes I look at all of this and it feels like this big circle.  Like, there was a time when you were preparing for something.  You went to school and you prepared for the adult world.  You learned how to get a job and support yourself – and for what?  Well, to have kids and then to do the same for them.  Feels small and insignificant – but I’m finding it actually just might be what it is all about.

Life that is, what life is all about: kids. No, seriously. Ok, I know, you’re reading this and you don’t have kids – you think I’m one of those nutso parents who have completely lost it… maybe.  But I don’t think so (they all say that ^_^).

People make life out to be some grand adventure (and to some extent, it is) but what they really mean is they want to experience as much for THEM as they possibly can.  And that’s fine and all, go be the “world’s most interesting man” but at the end of your life, what do you have to show for your life and all that you’ve done?  Memories stuck in your head that only benefit you?

The ultimate fulfillment at the end of life, is knowing that you contributed in some small way to continuing life.  And not just continuing it – but creating loving memories that you share with a family.  Experiences that will be passed on long after you have died and are gone.  You raise your children and you leave your fingerprints all over them (and in turn, on their kids and their kids and so on).

And this is what it is all about. Family.

I may have missed out on the club scene and getting drunk and going to crazy parties.  I may never have lived in a fancy condo on the 30th floor of some exciting town, and have a big time job at some big time company.  I may never drive a sports car or drink mixed drinks.  I may never have sex with another woman for the rest of my life.  And I’m ok with that, with all these things I may never experience… because I know, that when I am dying and ready to say goodbye – or even now if I were to pass suddenly – I know that my legacy (if you can call it that) lives on in my children.  I know that I have created life and (hopefully) offered all of who I am to my children so that they may do the same for their children.

Having kids, it’s not the end. It is the beginning. The beginning of a meaningful life – a meaningful future for all my descendants. I am grateful for the opportunity to have kids and to be able to hold them, and love them, and nurture their curiosity.  I am trying to keep my head above the smog that is the day in and day out demanding routines of a 4 year old and a 2 year old, so that I can relish in the overwhelming satisfaction that comes from knowing that you have created life – and a future.

Kids are so great. MY kids, are so great.  And I would, in an instant, give up my life for theirs – because my life is theirs, and I hope someday they can pass their lives on to their kids.

The First 4 Months in the Cruz

My last post was about 3 months ago and it talked about how I moved to a new town, Santa Cruz, and started a new chapter in my life.  In OUR life, I should say, as really it was a move more about family than it was about me.

So how are things going? How is this new chapter’s first few pages?

That’s what this post is all about.

Things are good. The family is healthy.  We are living next door to Robin’s parents which gives us lots of freedom, breaks, and financial relief.  Not to mention it’s just nice to have family near-by to go to dinner with, to come over and share a laugh or a memory with.  It’s healthy.  Robin is pregnant and we are having another girl, which, I am excited about.  The girls are growing up so fast, and they are really enjoying being here and playing in the sun.  We go to the park on a weekly basis (sometimes on a daily basis) and it is nice living so close to the beach.  I’ve had a few projects around the house, so I have been working on those which has kept me busy and active.  I joined a band. (-:

Life is good.

I’ve been working as much as I can, and work has been coming in steadily.  Robin has been working and we have been sharing the parenting responsibility like we did when I was a youth pastor.

I guess I should say, life is fairly easy; comfortable.

But good?

I’m not sure.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, my girls are absolutely wonderful.  My wife is supportive, loving, and a really great mom.  I have no complaints or regrets when it comes to my family.  That part of life, is perfect. (and I am beyond thankful for that)

But good?  Like… if I died I would be satisfied good?  I’m not sure.

See, my entire belief system, my entire paradox has shifted the last few years – and is still shifting.  It’s unnerving.  It’s terrible.  It’s hard.  And I wouldn’t change anything.  I’m so glad that I have escaped the chains of the past; of conservative religion and dogmatic beliefs.  The part of me that kept me from me – kept me from others – and kept me from experiencing most of what life has to offer.  I am happy that I am not closed to different cultures and people.  I am happy that I am not working in a church, expected to tell people what to think and how to act.  But it’s not easy… it’s a long, dark, cold, lonely corridor. It feels like you’re a lone leaf blowing across the open sea with no land in sight, and wondering how long the wind will carry you, and unsure where it is headed.  You just hold on and enjoy the ride.  And if the ride ends in the middle of the open sea and there is nothing there to save me, so be it.

But, something is missing.

Charity is missing.  But charity will surface again.

See, before, I think I did charity to feel good about myself.  Which sounds crazy, because what I am essentially saying is that I am excited to get back into charity and giving to others so that I feel better – but it’s different now.  Now, I know it feels good to give back to others – but that is NOT the reason I will do it.  I will do it because I care about others.  It’s a subtle difference, and most people do not even begin to think about it… but the last 4 years have been about refocusing on the heart of others, and not on the feeling helping them brings to me.

It’s hard right now, because most (if not all) of my charity goes to my kids right now. They have my hands and feet and heart and soul.  They have my everything. I work – for them. I play – with them.  And in my free time, I try to take care of myself so I don’t lose it on them.  There feels like such little room for charity right now.  But that’s ok.  I think that’s ok. I’m living with the emptiness of not serving out there in the world – not building houses anymore, not feeding the hungry, not teaching kids to look past themselves – but it won’t always be this way.  There will be a day when I reemerge and I – with my family – server the world again. The big and the small worlds.

This year I turn 30. 30! I will have three daughters.  It’s a whole new world.  A world I hope lasts for a few more seasons.  I still have so much to learn and to experience.

A New Town, A New Chapter

I think I’ve been thinking about this move to Santa Cruz all wrong.

It’s hard to let go of a place that you love, and so it has been hard to let go of my time in Portland, Oregon.  Probably one of the best places I can imagine living, anywhere in the world.  The Northwest is just a different type of place.  A slower pace of life, a more earth centric way of living, friendly down-to-earth people, and unbelievable food; just to mention a few things.  I really did love it there, but we moved to Santa Cruz to be closer to family – which was a VERY good decision.

But like I said, I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.  I think, deep down, I’ve been a little bitter about having to leave Portland – but it doesn’t have to be that way.  It just depends on how I look at it.

What I realized tonight, is that now begins a new chapter in my life.  Sure it’s cliche and all to say “thus begins a new chapter” – but it’s true.  Let’s see, I can summarize the last 10 – 15 years in chapters:

1. 1997-2001 High School
2. 2001-2003 The Dark ages (aka, Moorpark College, travelling, and the lung collapse)
3. 2003-2004 Azusa Pacific, transformation, Robin Dawn Harrold
4. 2005-2008 Youth Ministry years, married life, the beginning of Parenting
5. 2008-2011 Portland, Oregon, Web Design, more parenting