tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61861720723576200152024-03-14T02:07:32.560-05:00Losing 150One man's journey to lose himself... LITERALLYJayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-91912813855041027652011-08-11T19:55:00.001-05:002011-08-11T19:57:50.460-05:00Sleeping Baby in T-Minus Six WeeksMy third child is two weeks old. I think God puts selective amnesia in parents so that we forget the first few weeks of a new baby's life. It's the only reason every child isn't an only child. The fatigue, frustration and fussiness work together to make you feel sub-human.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>As Chloe's due date approached, several people asked if we were ready for the sleepless nights. Each time, I responded, "NO! But I can handle anything for two months."</div><div><br />
</div><div>You see, in six weeks, my daughter will be sleeping through the night. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Pretty bold prediction, right? </div><div><br />
</div><div>It started six years ago. We were at our son's two month checkup. We were exhausted. Our <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?pq=ronald+chediak+marion&hl=en&sugexp=cmsp&cp=22&gs_id=15&xhr=t&q=ronald+chediak+marion+il&qe=cm9uYWxkIGNoZWRpYWsgbWFyaW9uIA&qesig=_-eYJ50JkPD_VVC1BRXyhA&pkc=AFgZ2tlDCD1y1spwi-NtkwOXh8sFn51BkTBXWE438XaupEKucBKLada9LbacgFYz_Aa2leXjtF7uPNNLi3ZAHU92aBV7XHP1cA&rlz=1C1TSNF_enUS444US444&gs_sm=&gs_upl=&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&biw=1366&bih=667&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">pediatrician</span></a> told us that he should be sleeping through the night. We asked about him needing night feedings. He assured us that he didn't and then reminded us that we're the parents and, as such, get to make the rules.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Two nights later, our son was sleeping all night. Four years later, our daughter did the same.</div><div>_________________________________________________________________________________</div><div><br />
</div><div>Authority in the family flows from God, through the father, mother and to the children. Our sleeping values come from<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+22%3A6&version=ESV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Proverbs 22:6</span></a></span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians%206:1-4&version=ESV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Ephesians 6:1-4</span></a>. </span>(... I guess <i>all</i> of our parenting values come from there!) </div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm not a big believer in the "your child will tell you when he/she's ready to ______" philosophy. My children would be drinking chocolate milk at every turn if they got to make the rules. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Rebellion starts early and, until Jesus saves our children, must be met with an unwavering will.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sleeping is one area in which we exercise our authority as parents. Our children know that when it's bedtime, we sleep... in our own beds... until the clock says six oh oh. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We're six years in and so often parenting has boiled down to a battle of the wills. At this stage, our highest calling seems to involve lasting five seconds longer than our children. And that battle goes smoother if we're well rested! </div><div><br />
</div><div>If you're a new parent or a not-so-new parent with unsleeping kids, I would love to talk more about this. It's one of our favorite parenting subjects. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Also, check back with me on October 3, 2011. (I don't know if we'll be starting on 9/23 or 9/30). This could be your chance to<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObZaVgoX0zM&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span id="goog_1219310242"></span>Nelson</span></a> me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>There is hope for us, we sufferers of sleep deprivation. There's hope. </div><div>"Immediately the father of the child cried out, 'I believe! Help my unbelief!'" - Mark 9:24. (That applies here to some/most, right?)</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>*Disclaimer: You should probably check with your Pediatrician about this stuff. But I would ask, "Is there any reason he/she shouldn't be sleeping all night?" as opposed to "My goofy friend says..."*</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-30343896828275925342011-06-30T18:19:00.000-05:002011-06-30T18:19:17.619-05:00Denying Myself is Fun ... damentally hard!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"If anyone would come after me, let him<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 0.5em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 0.5em; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25316A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup></span> deny himself and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 0.5em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 0.5em; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25316B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup></span> take up his cross<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 0.5em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 0.5em; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25316C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup></span> daily and follow me..." -Jesus of Nazareth</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">"Perhaps in our affluent society fasting involves a far larger sacrifice than the giving of money."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"> - Richard Foster, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Celebration Of Discipline, p66</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Donuts. Is there anything they can't do?" - Homer Simpson</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The thought kept coming back to me last week, "Fasting and prayer." "Fasting and prayer." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought it might be my body revolting after some jalepenos & onion straws.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it kept coming back to me. "I need to deny myself." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One does not reach 350 pounds by being disciplined. He does so by letting his stomach have whatever it wants. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I follow Jesus and he says that my body is a "temple of the Holy Spirit," I should treat it as such. But I don't view my form of gluttony as being very sinful. Just like you don't view your form of (insert sin here) as being very sinful. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We scorn the smoker who is damaging her body and chained in addiction. We banish them to the far reaches of the property while I finish off my fifth donut and you replace the coffee iv that gets you through the day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's so easy to judge the speck in your eye while totally missing the log in my own. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So my goal over the next month is to deny myself some things that I want. (An exciting experiment, I know!) I do so in the hopes that I would grow more dependent on Jesus and knowing that it is far easier said than done.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm thinking that a little bit of fasting is all it takes to lose 8 or 10 pant sizes. Right?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-82005641778613722052011-06-22T06:51:00.000-05:002011-06-22T06:51:53.436-05:00Change I Actually Believe inI spent Fathers Day with my family peering over the edge of a cliff at the <a href="http://www.backpackcamp.com/GardenOfTheGods.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Garden of the Gods</span></a>. That's not so revolutionary until I remember three years ago I only wanted two presents: Peace and Quiet! Instead, I was excited to haul my two year old around the rocks chasing my 6 year old!<div><br />
</div><div>It seems that I don't notice changes in my attitude/character until something crazy happens, like preferring to hike with a pregnant wife and two children rather than watch tv all day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I was thinking how oblivious we can be, sometimes, to our own needs for maturity and growth. How many people enjoy examining themselves searching for character flaws? </div><div><br />
</div><div>So it wasn't a good idea to be reading a section of <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20cor%2011:%2017-34&version=ESV"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">1 Corinthians 11</span></a> that night. I got stuck on the phrase, "Let a person examine himself..." </div><div><br />
</div><div>Now I'm getting better at how I respond when a trusted friend calls me on something. But "Examine himself"? That's coming MUCH slower. But it's coming. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And I wonder, how can I help my children be better at this than I am? </div><div><br />
</div><div>My goal as a dad has become to face and deal with my junk so my kids don't have to... They'll have enough of their own! So how do I instill in them the habit of checking their blind spots? </div><div><br />
</div><div>I had a chance already this week. We were eating dinner and I thought I heard my son kicking his chair. I said, "stop" and took a bite. The kicking continued. I said it a little louder, "STOP." ...</div><div><br />
</div><div>The kicking CONTINUED. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Finally I put my hand on my son's arm, shook it a little and said, "Son, you HAVE to listen to Dad when I'm talking to you." </div><div><br />
</div><div>And my wife says, "He's not doing that. Your daughter is." </div><div><br />
</div><div>I HATE BEING WRONG!</div><div>Couple that with the fact that I LOVE being right and I faced a dilemma. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I could have shrugged it off and kept eating. I could have transferred the speech to the beautiful girl kicking her high chair.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Instead, I grabbed my son's hand and apologized. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I was wrong and had to admit it. I was wrong and chose not to make excuses.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hopefully that becomes a habit with me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But even more importantly, I hope I'm building that as a foundation in the lives of my children. </div><div><br />
</div><div>That, and laughing at the sound of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpB3ME_Xem0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">bodily functions</span></a>, of course! </div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-42693495391376098472011-03-10T07:04:00.000-06:002011-03-10T07:04:43.137-06:00Scales of JUSTICE!"Do you want me to pick up a scale at (huge retail shopping chain) while I'm out?"<br />
<br />
Even a year ago those words uttered by my wife would have started the marital equivalent of The Rumble in the Jungle. <br />
<br />
I tried deflecting... "Uh, last time I checked (10 years ago) they didn't make scales that went high enough." <br />
<br />
She didn't buy it. "I'm pretty sure they do now." <br />
<br />
So now we have it. A shiny new <a href="http://www.nbc.com/the-biggest-loser/"><span style="color: red;">Biggest Loser</span></a> Scale. <br />
<br />
I found myself thinking about the numbers on that scale yesterday during lunch. I ate too much and spent the entire afternoon walking quickly around my office. <br />
<br />
The scale has brought my weightloss out of the vague and into the very specific. <br />
<br />
The thing I avoided all these years is actually an asset. <br />
<br />
I weighed on the scale for the first time Tuesday. This is Thursday and it says I'm six pounds lighter.<br />
<br />
And now, pardon me while I do a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ZBoPuD3MYQ"><span style="color: red;">jig</span></a><span style="color: red;">.</span>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-24704677761497858072011-03-01T21:41:00.001-06:002011-03-01T21:53:13.399-06:00A Legalist's Least Favorite GameLet me share something ludicrous. <br />
Playing the Game. #3. <br />
The judge turns over each red apple card, reads it aloud, <br />
and <em>then selects the one</em> he or she thinks is best described <br />
by the word on the green apple card.<br />
<br />
The subjectivity woven into <a href="http://www.otb-games.com/apples/apples_rules.html"><span style="color: red;">Apples to Apples</span></a> drives me CRAZY.<br />
<br />
The word is "Dirty." I have a card in my hand that says, "The dump." What's dirtier than THE DUMP?<br />
<br />
"Jamaica" <br />
<br />
obviously. <br />
<br />
Wait! JAMAICA?!?! <br />
<br />
I need rules. I need scores. I need neat, orderly ways for me to prove I'm better than you at this game.<br />
<br />
At the end of a round of Apples to Apples my blood pressure is up, my face is red and I'm angry at the others in the room.<br />
<br />
Hello, I'm Jay and I'm a Boardgame Legalist.<br />
<br />
And if I'm going to be honest, I'm just a good ol' fashioned Legalist. <br />
<br />
I don't smoke, I love spending time with my children (who sleep all night and obey 95% of what I say), I open doors for others and usually let a car turn into my lane in traffic.<br />
<br />
I want the scoreboard to reflect my superiority.<br />
We want the scoreboard to reflect our superiority.<br />
<br />
You pass the terrible driver in front of you and graciously wave and bless them.<br />
You're sitting in front of the woman talking on her phone as the movie starts and wish her well.<br />
The server brings your meal and it's wrong... again and you leave a 20% tip.<br />
<br />
Of course not! We call the judgemental A-hole an A-hole.<br />
We stare down the bad driver, shoosh the movie-talker and jip the server.<br />
<br />
And all the while, we tally our score.<br />
<br />
But keeping score is stressful. It takes up time, wastes energy and saps our strength. <br />
<br />
Then I read the words of Jesus, "On hearing this, Jesus said, 'It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.'"<br />
<br />
I can run faster than my pregnant wife and I boast... but in the grand scheme of things I'm racing against a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Su1ozG3WPUM"><span style="color: red;">highly trained Chinese hurdler</span></a><span style="color: red;">.</span><br />
<br />
My good isn't much when compared to God's Good. I forget that. <br />
<br />
We forget that. Right?<br />
<br />
We put so much pressure on ourselves trying to win, trying to earn, trying to find worth in our accomplishments.<br />
<br />
And yet we have a God who longs to bestow His accomplishment on us. <br />
A God that desires to give us rest and remind us that his work is sufficient.<br />
<br />
I'm slowly learning to depend on Jesus' work on the cross instead of my own work. I'm trying to remember that the first guy Jesus took to paradise was a convicted felon who repented <em>right</em> before he died.<br />
<br />
I'm asking Jesus to tear down my scoreboard. <br />
<br />
I'm asking him to remind me of his grace when I'm trying to apply the rules. <br />
<br />
But I still can't stand Apples to Apples.Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-29619523799670646162010-11-20T11:14:00.000-06:002010-11-20T11:14:38.272-06:00The art of Snapping Part 2: Milestones"Dad, I CAN'T DO IT!"<br />
<br />
I used to only be able to offer support. "Sure you can, bud. Just keep practicing. You'll get it." <br />
<br />
Then, after weeks of practice, my son showed me that he could snap.<br />
<br />
He doesn't know what he's done! Now I have a reference point for him to overcome his frustrations.<br />
<br />
I ambushed him last week when he was trying to put a shirt on. I tied him up with his sleeves and tickled him until he gave up.<br />
<br />
We were both still laughing when he tried getting his shirt on correctly. He slipped his head through one of the sleeve holes and couldn't find where his arm was supposed to go.<br />
<br />
He got in one of those funks that I get in when I realize the donut I just bit into has jelly in it. BLECH<br />
<br />
He was giving up, pouting and getting ready to blow up when I gently reminded him...<br />
<br />
"Jeremiah, snap for me. Do you remember how frustrated you got when you couldn't snap? You practiced and now you're an expert snapper!"<br />
<br />
Now he has a memory to depend on when times get tough. He has a victory that can remind him that he has won before and if he stays calm and keeps practicing he can win again.<br />
<br />
A few victories on the way to being healthy have kept me motivated to stay active.<br />
<br />
But even more than that, reminding Jeremiah to remember has made me do the same.<br />
<br />
I'm still too big to shop in most places, but I remember my doctor saying he's proud of me for the weight I've lost so far.<br />
<br />
I still have trouble being open about my emotions sometimes, but I remember how much my wife appreciates it and how much better I feel when I share.<br />
<br />
I have no idea where God is calling me professionally, but I remember that he has healed my heart, repaired my marriage, blessed my children and used me where I am.<br />
<br />
I've been challenged by my son's expert snapping. My challenge is to not only help him remember victories, but for me to remember how God is moving in my life... even when it feels like he's not there.<br />
<br />
Life is hard. And rather than stay on the surface with platitudes of "being blessed" while ignoring difficulty, I need to dig deep and remember those times where God did work when I didn't expect it.<br />
<br />
He continues to use me and speak through me even though I don't know what the future holds.<br />
<br />
A lot of times I still feel like I'm tied up in shirt sleeves, flailing around only succeeding to make the trap tighter.<br />
<br />
Slowly though, I'm starting to hear the voice of the Father saying, "Jay, slow down. Concentrate." <br />
<br />
One day I hope to become an expert snapper myself.Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-5963506922893478782010-11-20T09:30:00.000-06:002010-11-20T09:30:45.171-06:00The Art of Snapping Part 1: FrustrationFor the most part, my five year old is peaceful, joyful, jolly... until he gets frustrated. He could be having the greatest day imaginable and then he hits a wall.<div><br />
</div><div>It happened last month when he came with a simple question. "Dad, how do you snap your fingers?" </div><div><br />
</div><div>I showed him. For the next three days he would ask the question, try to snap and shout, "I JUST CAN'T DO IT." </div><div><br />
</div><div>Last week he came to show me something. "Dad, close your eyes." He had been practicing on his own for three weeks. Now he's an expert snapper.</div><div><div><br />
</div><div>For two weeks, we've been working on tying shoes. He has all the tools. He knows the bunny ears. He knows the Through the Tree. But I hear it again. "I JUST CAN'T DO IT." </div><div><br />
</div><div>But before I shake my head and say, "Oh, those five year olds," I remember how ridiculous I get when I don't succeed immediately.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>Over the years, I have splintered entertainment centers, treated screwdrivers like throwing stars and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYTTKAepUJE">Leg Dropped</a></u></span> appliance boxes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh, those 32 year olds.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sometimes I feel like asking for help equals weakness. If I can't do something then I'm not a man. I get wrapped up in the idea that if I successfully complete this task it will bestow more masculinity on me. If I figure this out, I'm strong. If not, I'm weak.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I want life to be easy. Failing strikes to my very core. For years I thought I was on my own. I believed that there was no one who could really help me... What's worse, I didn't know if there was anyone who <i>wanted</i> to help me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Feeling alone to deal with the challenges this world offers. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I daresay I'm not alone in feeling alone. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And it's not just the frustrating tasks at home.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm already running late and now a train's crossing the tracks. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm walking out the door as I spill juice on my shirt.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The smallest failure and we think we're useless...</div><div><br />
</div><div>My son is not useless. He is not weak. He has more strength than he knows, strength this world needs.</div><div><br />
</div><div>One of my greatest tasks as a father is to repeatedly remind my son that he isn't alone. He has a father who loves him and will help him in times of trouble.</div><div><br />
</div><div>...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why do I forget that I have the same?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Thanks to Jesus, I have a Father who loves me and who will help me in times of trouble. </div><div><br />
</div><div>As I concentrate on putting that message in my son's heart, he's learning to snap and I notice his fuse is getting longer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>As that lesson slowly invades <i>my</i> thinking, I'm heaving fewer tools and breaking fewer spare parts. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And now that he knows how to snap, on to the next challenge...</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree..."</div><div><br />
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</span></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-46980315279037881122010-11-07T15:20:00.005-06:002010-11-07T15:26:34.739-06:00Feeling Feelings<div class="MsoNormal">It was a strange morning. I was putting clean dishes away as my five year old son was making up fart jokes. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(We’ll take a moment for those of you without sons…)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He finds a picture of my in-laws’ scottish terriers that died last year and got really sad.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We talked about how he misses them and about how they were really good dogs.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He sat on the kitchen floor looking at their picture for five minutes. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To say my son is empathetic is an understatement. From birth, he has hurt with those who are hurting and rejoiced with those who are rejoicing. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It does my heart good to see that my son isn’t embarrassed by his emotions. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By and large, there seems to be only two ways men raise sons. We teach them either to perfect their poker face or run for the hills.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I would get hit by a pitch my dad would yell, “<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://blogs.sfweekly.com/thesnitch/OSU%2520beanball.jpg&imgrefurl=http://blogs.sfweekly.com/thesnitch/2010/09/roomates_baseball-throwing_nai.php&usg=__-9x7kzmNeAYb-2bSbIuj4OlvCZ0=&h=500&w=493&sz=122&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=TFuz561nrtT9DM:&tbnh=172&tbnw=161&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbean%2Bball%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D655%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=288&vpy=80&dur=5466&hovh=226&hovw=223&tx=98&ty=132&ei=SxfXTP-9M-mQnAeg9o22BQ&oei=SxfXTP-9M-mQnAeg9o22BQ&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=17&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">You rub it, you’re out!</span></span></span></a>” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We hear “Walk it off” and “Rub some dirt on it.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The message is the same. Don’t feel your feelings. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Men don’t hug. We don’t cry. We don’t hurt.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’re kidding ourselves. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stuffing our emotions becomes natural and we unwittingly pass it on to our sons.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well intentioned church people occasionally reinforce it.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead of mourning with someone, we offer platitudes. Someone is struggling through a loss or recovering from emotional devastation and we plaster a smile on our faces and say, “God will take care of it” or, “Everything will work out.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’re too scared of emotions to face them, so we push them down...<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unless our dads taught us to run. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first sign of bad news has us reaching for <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.avsim.com/pages/1004/soko/soko%2520eject%25205.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.avsim.com/pages/1004/soko/soko.htm&usg=__NprncluB66wycwL37YCPc4e904Q=&h=732&w=1000&sz=92&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=bw4LWmThbWJs1M:&tbnh=158&tbnw=229&prev=/images%3Fq%3Deject%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D655%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=344&vpy=275&dur=471&hovh=192&hovw=262&tx=99&ty=101&ei=4xfXTOaKF8ePnAeI6YivBQ&oei=4xfXTOaKF8ePnAeI6YivBQ&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:6,s:0"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">the eject button</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">.</span> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Families are hard so we devote our time to sports or hobbies instead. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m a year into letting myself FEEL things and now I’m faced with a five year old who feels everything!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s both exhilarating AND frightening.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I knelt down and hugged him while we both remembered Ivan and Sampson. I tried to stay quiet for a bit. My immediate reaction was to remind him that dogs die. THAT would have been good. Part of me wanted him to forget those dogs and remember Aunt Sarah’s NEW dog!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead, we hugged in front of the dishwasher. My son was sad and that’s ok. Sometimes we’re sad. My son was mourning and that’s ok. Sometimes we mourn. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I thanked God for teaching me a lesson on the kitchen floor.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m called to walk my son across the tightrope of masculinity and emotion when I still feel like I need a safety net.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And now he’s back to the fart jokes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I love having a son!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-58763907425018929572010-10-24T22:20:00.000-05:002010-10-24T22:20:41.860-05:00MOMENTUM!!<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I started writing this blog four weeks ago. Three weeks ago I started waking up before work and exercising.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tuesday I went to the doctor.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For the first time I can remember, I weighed less than I did the time before.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My good cholesterol is up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My triglycerides and very bad cholesterol are down.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My mind is a bit boggled!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This weekend, my wife and I attended our church’s Fall Retreat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was held in the same spot as the youth summer camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The auditorium sits on a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Everest_kalapatthar_crop.jpg">giant hill</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I noticed halfway through my second trip to the summit that I was moving faster than I did in August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was winded, but less so!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Honestly I thought it would take longer to build momentum. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m ready to start again this week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Part of me expected to have failed by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already had excuses ready for when someone asked how the blog was going.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What’s more, my knee is sore AND I’m NNOOTT using it as a reason to stay on the couch.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead of setting unrealistic goals and failing before making it out of the gate, I have set a long-range goal and am content with small victories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m even starting to think I’ll get there.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the next time I meet that hill, I’ll sprint up it…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You know, unless this knee’s acting up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Baby Steps to 150.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-52016423886979261452010-10-17T19:13:00.000-05:002010-10-17T19:13:56.124-05:00Méfiez-vous du fromage<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><div class="MsoNormal">My wife’s family’s annual gathering was this weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is one of 29 first cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year at this time, the family makes the trek to Granny’s cabin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The population of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Mulberry Grove</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Illinois</st1:state></st1:place> doubles when the gang’s all there.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is my ninth trip to the shindig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We go for good food, great conversation and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kubb">Kubb</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is the first year I’ve gone to Granny’s weighing less than I did the year before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty impressive, eh? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For two weeks now, I’ve gotten up early and worked out before going out to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m getting into a pretty firm routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My muscles are killing me and I’m loving it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had a few options as this weekend approached.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Option A:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have avoided it and worked out instead.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> Who would have objected if I stayed home to help incubate this newborn workout ethic.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Option B:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attend, have fun, eat sensibly.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Probably the best bet. I could go, make mostly healthy choices and indulge in a few treats. Hopefully the rest of my life will look like Option B.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But there ended up being a third option.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Option Jay:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attend, have fun, eat way too much for way too long.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Woops.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were on the way home before I realized, “Hey, maybe I should have thought about what I was eating!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For 48 wonderfully terrible hours I reverted back to Eat Everything Guy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I blame the cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A friend of the family brings this garlic Velveeta contraption that captures your imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It boggles the mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It controls the will.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would walk through walls for that stuff.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What is it about family gatherings that tend to make us revert back to what we were?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I should have asked for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely one of my wife’s 28 first cousins could have talked me down off the cheese ledge.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I should have gone to the opposite side of the yard where I wouldn’t have heard the siren call.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead, I start over this week. I don't know how much weight I put on this weekend. I do know that I begin again tomorrow. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, what’s the best way to keep motivated at family get-togethers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Do you revert?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you stand strong?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I'd like to know. Because <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HrtKoHsIf8">knowing is half the battle</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></span></span></span></span>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-3752635053463420122010-10-10T10:16:00.000-05:002010-10-10T10:16:44.626-05:00Where's there's a Will there's a JayMay I interest you in a bit of Sunday Morning Rambling?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I've been thinking a lot about my will lately.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">One of <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/will?show=1&t=1286722986">Webster's</a> definitions is, "the power of control over one's own actions or emotions."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I've read it five times since I pasted onto this page. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">As a follower of Jesus, I seem to drift to two ends of the extreme. I either put my faith in my own actions and talents or I don't do anything and use Grace as the reason.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">What's the proper view of grace and action in the life of a Christian?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">Paul, the author of 2/3 of the New Testament railed against church people who used their resumes as currency yet he also said that he "<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+9:27&version=NIV">beat his body</a>" to make it subject to Jesus.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I wish I had a profound answer.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">It's strange that I started feeling freedom as I began a stricter regimen than ever before.</span></span><br />
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</span>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-73576588785745844992010-10-07T23:39:00.000-05:002010-10-07T23:39:01.543-05:00Tuna Fish Face<div class="MsoNormal">My wife made lunch one Saturday afternoon about three weeks into our marriage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything my beautiful bride did was perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could do no wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Birds joined her in song and forest creatures helped tie bows in her hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She placed the plate in front of me as I expected a perfectly cooked steak... And what do my eyes behold? .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tuna salad on baby spinach leaves.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The familiar scent from my youth mixed with the dreaded sight caused my eyes to roll and head to tilt back into Sense the Sarcasm territory.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Much to my surprise, my reaction didn’t sit well with Rachel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She picked her plate up and silently ate in the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(To her credit, she did NOT throw me out the kitchen window.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I thought I hated Tuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I knew better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My opinion of Tuna was more important than hers…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And that’s been my setting for as long as I can remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My opinion good. Your opinion baaaad.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m reminded of a passage in <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+2:3&version=NIV">Philippians</a>, “…in humility, consider others better than yourselves.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m wracking my brain trying to count the number of times I’ve done that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s 10:50 pm and I’m in the middle of a text argument with a friend about a Facebook post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His opinion is not as valid as mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His points aren’t as wise as mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His B.O., on the other hand, is definitely better than mine.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">How hard is it to give REAL worth to the ideas and opinions of others?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even more telling…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How hard is it to even LISTEN to someone giving an opinion that differs from my own? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">The <a href="http://www.listen.org/">International Listening Association</a> (and with a name like that, who can argue?!?) gives a devastating statistic:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of us are distracted, preoccupied or forgetful about 75% of the time we should be listening.</span></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That knocked the wind out of me because I think my stats were WORSE!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Instead of planning my next verbal assault, what happens if I attempt to understand what my smelly friend is feeling?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What if I look for common ground with him from which we can work out the disagreement?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Change comes slowly, doesn’t it?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Seven years into marriage and I’m just NOW starting to listen actively to my wife.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I would have just learned from the tuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After Rachel left the table, I followed her…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Comeback!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look! I’m eating it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m EATING IT! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is pretty good!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s good!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NO, I’M NOT JUST SAYING THAT!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I love tuna salad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe there’s hope for the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully I win this battle before my son has to do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tuna salad all around!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Woops.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyone know how to get five year old eyes to roll back down to normal?</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-6577056672391181332010-10-03T21:16:00.001-05:002010-10-03T21:18:14.022-05:00Freedom to Work Hard. Wait. WHAT?!?!<div class="MsoNormal">Can adults <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">become</i> disciplined? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Looking back over the first 32 years of Jay, I’ve noticed something. I like doing things I enjoy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That last sentence should earn me a Pulitzer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I like doing things I enjoy. And I seem to enjoy things that aren’t too difficult. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was good at baseball and basketball. If I would have spent time away from practice working, I could have been really good. I never got there.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I played the saxophone and, with practice, I could have been <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAiUpFUyzcI">Boots Randolph</a> good… nope. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I tried learning Spanish with cds recently… No bueno.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So the fact that I have purposefully (and a few times, FORCEFULLY) been active this week has surprised me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I haven’t been this faithful doing something I didn’t enjoy in years. Seven years to be exact.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During our first few months of marriage in 2003, my wife and I decided to try the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atkins_diet">Atkins Diet</a>. We survived the strictest two weeks. We were proud and surprised.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jay – “Good job us!”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Rachel – “We should celebrate.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jay – “Dominoes?”<br />
Rachel – “Thin crust.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jay – “I’ll call”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Best pizza EVER. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The wall’s coming. I’ve hit it before and bounced off. I don’t know if I can feel it or if I’m just scared of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, what is it that keeps people going down this road? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Desire? I have it. But I’ve had it before.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Dedication? But how do you keep it? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Fear? I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t get healthy, but is fear a good enough motivator?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Is this the time passion overpowers apathy?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I once felt stuck. Stuck in my emotional cage. Stuck in this obese body. The stuck-ness led to a malaise that overwhelmed any desire I had to reach out or change. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I gotta be honest. As I type, I’m surprised I DON’T feel that anymore. (Maybe I should write a few drafts before posting things!)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s like Jesus has taken an emotional ice cream scoop and dug out the old parts of me that kept me from acting.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I used to watch The Biggest Loser and think the emotional breakdowns were just something producers engineered to make the show more endearing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I now see the point of their existence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s the wound.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Very few people get stuck like this without one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Life wounds us and we try to find ways to deal with the pain.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It has to be cleaned out before we can heal. But I always chose the known pain over the unknown risk. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe it’s not a matter of discipline. Maybe it’s about Freedom. Freedom from bondage. Freedom to work at something that’s difficult. Jesus promised that whoever he set free would be “<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+8:36&version=NIV">free indeed</a>.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He has set and is setting me free. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unhindered by emotional baggage, I can set my sights on whatever’s next in my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to WANT to work out. Yet part of me still wishes God would see my desire and miraculously turn me into a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEeqHj3Nj2c">free runner</a> by morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I know that I’ll get there, but it’s going to be step by step, inch by inch. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And one morning in the not-so-distant future, I will wake up a free runner. Or a SCUBA diver. Or a tri-athlete. Or a break dancer… </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, maybe not a tri-athlete.</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-80562656534228407482010-09-30T22:58:00.000-05:002010-09-30T22:58:58.104-05:00Comfort at the Bottom of a Doritos Bag<div class="MsoNormal">I wished <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus">Festivus</a> was celebrated in October because I need to air some grievances.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Diet foods are terrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is no good diet soda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can keep your Dr Peppers and Coke Whatevers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Diet soda is nasty.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tofu should be banned in all 57 states.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Those 100 calorie “Oreos” ARE NOT OREOS.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I’m craving a Pepsi and a bag of Doritos, Diet Pepsi and Baked Lays won’t cut it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I order a cheeseburger, I will heave that veggie “burger” at you with all my might.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Why in the world would I accept the counterfeit when I want the real thing…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh GREAT.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For at least a decade I have taken my emotional needs to a frozen pizza and bag of Doritos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I went to the counterfeit comfort of food instead of intimacy with a loving Father who longs to free me from this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Too scared to invite friends or family into my darkest night, I take my pain to that stuffed crust pizza and devour it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Apostle Peter wrote that we should “cast all our cares on” Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been scared to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I was scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I didn’t trust him enough.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I hid my pain from everyone and instead of self medicating with alcohol or drugs, I abused food.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m finding that as I open up more of my heart I feel accepted, not condemned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel closer to my friends, not further away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For six of our seven years of marriage, I subconsciously thought my wife needed a Knight whose armor shined unblemished by mistakes and pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wasn’t me, so I tried to hide the chinks in my armor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since December I have been methodically revealing that my armor isn’t so shiny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surprisingly, she knew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out, I’m not very good at hiding things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the more I go to her with what’s on my heart… good, bad, indifferent… the more she responds with love and appreciation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She had wilted, emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I started to simply share what was on my mind, I began to notice that she wasn’t wilted anymore… and neither was I.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jesus is healing us, not by taking all the hurt away, but by mending our hearts together… something I had never let him do completely.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And as he is doing that, food’s hold over me is now the thing that’s wilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I look forward to the day I no longer wage war against myself to turn away from the 7<sup>th</sup> piece of pizza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the thing is, I can see that day coming. That will be a pretty nice day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And that low fat mayonnaise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“IT’S NOT MAYONNAISE”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(And if you were wondering, I did wake up early today and exercise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also skipped Doughnut Thursday at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And right before adding this post script, I delighted in a Blue Bunny Champ with my wife… Thanks for the prayer and support, and keep praying!!)</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-334891981597523682010-09-29T22:34:00.001-05:002010-09-29T22:35:31.265-05:00Despair, Thy Name is "Oatmeal"<div class="MsoNormal">“…<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5b</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most school days include my son coming to tell me breakfast is ready. I finish trying to tame my herd of cowlicks and head to the kitchen. Behold, my nemesis. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, I’m sure oatmeal isn’t evil. But you would never believe it if you saw my reaction. I see a bowl and my face contorts like my cheeks are double jointed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before I know it, my frown is saying to my wife, “Thanks a lot, jerk!” before my mouth can say, “Thank you, my love!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Why is it so hard to control my Self? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want what I want. And what I don’t want, I REALLY don’t want!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wish it stopped at oatmeal, though. The deeper I dig, the more I realize I’m a whiny baby.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My ears hear, “Honey, would you please help me rearrange furniture” and my eyes roll like they’re part of a slot machine.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want Doritoes, we have celery. I want to sit, I need to walk. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jesus calls me to “deny” myself. I didn’t get to 340 lbs by denying myself anything but vegetables. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m selfish. Self-centered. Self-involved.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m called to think of others before I think of myself. It’s hard. No one’s self enjoys being denied, right? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t remember ever thinking, “MAN, I enjoy sacrificing!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think, “BLEEP! Sacrifice?!?!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So here I sit… Preparing to take the chair and whip into the cage knowing my selfish desires are ready to attack.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to wake up to the smell of bacon tomorrow.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I plan on waking up before my wife and exercising.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you’re up around 6:15 am Central time, pray for me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ll let you know how it turned out.</div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186172072357620015.post-6545644882506961792010-09-28T21:29:00.000-05:002010-09-28T21:29:04.547-05:00And so it Begins<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.</span>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- Jesus of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nazareth</st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another blog about losing weight?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I searched a few terms before I started.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Weight Loss Blog” – 147,000 results</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Diet Blog” – 183,000 results</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Christian Weight Loss Blog” – 42,300</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Jay is too fat” – 1 result... by a guy who no type good.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m Jay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m 32 and I’m too fat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>150 pounds too fat.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I own eight diet books, four exercise videos and a stationary bike.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know how to cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am able to walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">I have tried to lose weight before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have failed every time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Suffice it to say, this will not be a “How to” blog!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This, my friends, is a “This $%!+ is haaaarrrrrrdddddd” blog.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Losing weight has been difficult and I don’t do difficult.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My default reaction to anything difficult is to retreat inward, not talk about it, pretend everything is ok and wait it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It took so much energy to keep a fake smile plastered on my face that I was too tired to stay active.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was too tired to engage my wife in real relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too tired to play with our five year old son and one year old daughter for more than ten minutes at a time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Something had to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eleven months ago, Jesus went to work on some deep hurts in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s been cleaning out the pain I’d been burying for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel so good emotionally that I have finally been able to look at myself in a mirror…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YOWZA.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I used to watch <a href="http://www.nbc.com/the-biggest-loser/">The Biggest Loser</a> and stay detached.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sure, they’re as big as I am but they’re REALLY unhealthy.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now I can let myself see how far I have to go and am finally willing to face it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My wife is ready to support me, our son already prays for me and my daughter drools on me a lot… I’m still working on my relationship with my daughter.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The interwebs is as public as it gets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m no longer willing to hide from life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This blog is me, not hiding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is my attempt at engaging a daunting reality in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, hopefully, you’ll be able to laugh with me (usually at me) along the way.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d love to hear from you along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will need both comfort and sarcasm. Hope and pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="mailto:Losing150@gmail.com">Email me</a> and expect a witty comeback in return</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The journey of 150 pounds begins with a single step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now where are those <a href="http://www.nabiscoworld.com/oreo/">Oreos</a>?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;"> </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body</span></span>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-- Paul of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tarsus</st1:place></st1:city></div>Jayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04495063909374991051noreply@blogger.com4