We spent the holiday on Monday running around together. And as I watched the boys and searched their actions for any hints or signs of internal fire, I contemplated the great many contributions of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I asked myself “What if he didn’t share his dream? What if he hadn’t heeded the call to service and followed the convictions of his heart?” There were way too many possibilities for me to fully explore… I was just certain that the absence of his patience and diplomacy; his strength and courage; and his vision and hope during that important time would have drastically affected the civil rights movement. The echoes of his work and his inspiration have circled the globe several times over. Could someone else have carried that torch? Might other groups or individuals have surfaced at later points that could have put us back on or near the path he blazed? Maybe, maybe not; of course it’s impossible to say. I can’t fully imagine the world had he not followed his heart; I can only say I am glad to know the reality that exists today because he did. And as I contemplated the prospect of Dr. King not following his fire, I began to run through the same exercise with other prominent figures in history and the potential bleakness that might have been…then on to a smaller scale…to me; to my sons.

I believe we all have God-given talents and abilities. I don’t know that they are always revealed in ways we expect or at times we find convenient. They may not be the talents or gifts we would have preferred to receive or any that we find immediately useful…but they are what they need to be, and at times they may even be intended to serve others rather than ourselves. God lights fires within us to do certain things or to walk certain paths…call it passion; call it heart; call it drive… however you associate with it or relate to it, it is the unquenchable fire that moves you toward a specific goal. Sometimes those fires align with your talents and abilities. Sometimes those fires shine as passion’s bright lights to attract the people with the right talents and abilities to you in order to get things accomplished. So I watch them in hopes of catching a glimpse of a flicker of the flame… to help them recognize it within themselves, and to harness the fire and help to focus and guide it if I can.

Passions and enthusiasms ebb and flow, but once that fire is lit, it remains constantly within when the other interests fade. It can’t be ignored, but it can be denied. I don’t want them to live with the regrets of not following through and wondering what could have been if they had devoted their lives to developing their talents and fueling their fires. Langston Hughes captures the concept in A Dream Deferred. He suggests that even if the “dream” (or fire) can be disregarded, it will remain in some form as a reminder in its “deferred” state…even to the point of explosion; potentially consuming it’s carrier. No… I’d rather they embrace whatever it is at the moment of recognition and hold on tightly down whatever corridors that path takes them. If God lights the fire, He will light the way.

I love to write. I always have. I am drawn to it… it is my fire. I received some advice once…well, several times through many iterations of the same conversation with various parties. It was sound advice. It was simple. It took me a few years to hear it, but I finally heard it.  The conversation(s) went like this:

Me: “I really want to write. I feel like that is what I should be doing.”

Friend: “So write.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand… it’s complicated. I can’t just write. I don’t have a lot of time, I work too much, there’s no money in it, excuse, excuse, excuse…”

Friend: “But, you feel like you have to write? like you should be writing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “Hmm. So write.”

So right. I have to write. I may never make a living writing, but I’ve stopped making excuses for not doing it. I will encourage them to follow whatever their passions describe, and pray they have the courage to stay the course. I am eternally grateful for those conversations and for that message. It is what I will say to my sons when they tell me about their fire. So write. So sing. So cure. So think. So run. So help. So teach. So preach. So heal. So fight. So move… So live.

Thank you for coming along for the ride…

I came downstairs with Jaden and made  him breakfast while I continued to contemplate the new year. I stepped out into the front walkway and stared up into the clear blue sky. The morning sun was warm and a cool thin layer of air breezed around me like a sheer curtain. It felt like music. That seemed like the right type of beginning. I went back inside and watched Jaden finish his breakfast. I figured I would create a few new playlists since music appeared to be the theme of the day. Jaden and Dillon had grown quite fond of a few tracks on some CDs I’d received, so I decided to pull the music together for them on my iPod. I was feeling very good about this musical morning.

The boys were sitting on the couch listening to the tracks and a song they hadn’t heard came on. I was curious about their reaction to it, so I watched them closely as it played. They sat fairly still and just listened… about halfway through, Jaden walked over to the iPod and clicked the wheel. I wasn’t sure if he was going to change the song or if he was just curious about the title. He stood there for a while and listened. When the song ended, I started it over again for him. They both just sat quietly through the song… three more times.

In the afternoon, we loaded up the boys and a CD and and set off to my brother’s (and sister-in-law’s) house. We listened to the boys’ new musical infatuation Wavin’ flag a couple of times back to back, and suddenly I heard a sound from the backseat that tied together the thoughts and sensations of the day. It was Dillon’s voice. He was signing along to the chorus with a passion and conviction that sent my mind down a path. Hearing his voice attached to those lyrics spun me… I got choked up and even veered a bit from my lane.

The song touched him in some way and he found some association with the message. Clearly he has no direct awareness of or experience with the Somali civil war which is at the heart of the song, but he found great enjoyment in singing the lines. Dillon’s voice grew louder from the back seat, and Jaden’s joined in, ”when I get older, I will be stronger, they’ll call me freedom just like a wavin’ flag!” It made me think about the child in an environment  that felt too massive or complicated to control or overcome. I thought about the courage and the will that must burn inside that child and lets him know that the situation is temporary and the environment can be changed, and that the child himself possesses the ability and strength to effect that change. It is amazing, the fruits of change that God can cultivate from the smallest seeds of hope and faith in the darkest and most barren of places.

Now, our children have never known that kind of oppression or fear. The hardships of their days cannot compare to the atrocities that other children witness and are subjected to. But that doesn’t invalidate the obstacles and challenges our children will face along their respective paths. They will be required to be courageous. They will be challenged and tested. They will have to navigate change. All these on a scale that is relative and relevant to them. Hearing them sing the chorus did not make me envision them as children of war. Rather, it reminded me that while the struggles in the song are not their own, they still encounter situations where they need to choose whether or not to demonstrate courage… and I need to be making sure I am modeling that for them.

It reminded me that I have an opportunity and an obligation to be a beacon of strength for them so they can grow their own and head out into the world and make it better for their children. It reminded me that there are too many children that do not have a beacon, and so we need to make the most of what opportunities we have. I am a generation whose parents lived through a significant struggle for civil rights and the extension of basic human decency from one to another. That inferno, while not fully extinguished, burns quietly now, and perhaps with that so cooled the perception that courage was still a necessary part of the American life. Our generation had thrust upon us a different model for courage early in the new century, and so grew our resolve again. I am hoping to find more frequent opportunities to practice the virtue of courage, and ones that rely on smaller lessons. That was the clarity I gained by the time we pulled up next to the house.

There is always a demon to slay. As much as I hope there is no great obstacle facing the next generation, I know there has to be… or else what would they overcome? I feel like 2010 is a year that has a very bright outlook and is filled with limitless possibilities. I feel like paths will be available to be taken. I pray I have the courage to take the right steps. I pray you do too… so when our children get older, they will be stronger… they will have seen the fruits of the courage before them… and they can be the beacons of strength.

Thank you for coming along for the ride… kiss your kids!

I grabbed my toolbox and walked outside to see Jaden sitting on his bike at the end of the driveway. He was staring off down the street. “You ready for me to take off your training wheel?” I asked, beaming with pride that he was willing to take that step. “Yes. But first watch Dillon. Look how good he’s doing!” He was so proud. He watched Dillon make his way toward us from a few driveways down. Jaden had a satisfied smile on his face as he studied his brother’s progress. “Okay.” Jaden slid forward on his bike so I could get to his training wheel. I studied his body language for fear or apprehension and couldn’t detect any. He had made up his mind. He was ready.

Dillon rolled past… stopping and starting, weaving back and forth across the street, pedaling leisurely to and fro.  He was pleased. Kendra and I shouted praises to him as he biked along. He came to a stop to watch Jaden begin. Kendra was the first to guide him out into the street and help him coast a few houses away and back. Then, I walked beside Jaden as he rolled into the street; holding his seat post and handle grip for balance and support. After a few cranks for momentum he was off. I jogged beside him offering encouragement, but my job was already done. He was riding. Dillon pedaled off.

I grabbed my bike and rode around between the boys. I showed them a few tricks about getting started from the curb. Kendra taught them to use the driveway inclines as a means of gaining momentum to start and also as a safe way to slow down when coming from the opposite direction. Bikes were laid down a couple times, but there were no crashes or injuries. They decided they were going to ride that day. And they rode.

I’m always blown away by the way they overcome challenges. I swear they must hold secret meetings in the middle of the night where they just sit back and talk about obstacles and strategize how to overcome them. They have a way of just appearing out of nowhere with a new way of doing something or with a new talent. There never seems to be a lot of trial and error… like when Jaden came running in from the backyard one afternoon to announce that Dillon just completed a back flip on the trampoline. We had talked about how to do one several weeks beforehand, but he never asked for a spot or guidance in getting it done. He started doing little somersaults from his back from time to time in what had to be some type of preparation to familiarize himself with the motion, and then once he had thought it through, he just did it. Jaden was that way with the front flip and with jumping rope. I need to find out about these meetings.

I had no idea they had been working through the bike riding process, but it had clearly been on their minds. As with the diving experience, once one had the breakthrough, the other was soon to follow. Kendra snapped pictures as we rode around the neighborhood. By the end of the evening, the boys and I struck out for our maiden ride. I’ve always been fond of bike rides… they are a great way to just be outside and feel free. Being able to connect my sons to that sensation was amazing. There was a point during our ride where they were really getting confident on their bikes and pushing their comfort zones. We were picking up speed, and the soothing hum of the knobby rubber tires on the asphalt and the steady shoonk… shoonk… shoonk… of the cranks and chains provided the soundtrack to our trek. I was teary eyed.

Like most of these such moments, this one ended all too briefly. I close my eyes and find myself back on that neighborhood stretch with my guys zooming along to the sounds of our rhythmic motion. This time, no cars turn into the community and cause us to pull over and wait. This time, no one is backing out of the driveway or waiting to pull in. This time we are just riding forward together dreaming of obstacles to conquer… I need to find out about those meetings.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

The realization of the gravity and actuality of the attack struck me as I watched the first tower fall. We had been going through our early morning ritual of getting ready for work and school when the news broke. We’d been listening and watching and answering panicked phone calls. It was very surreal, but it felt temporary…initially. Then I saw it fall. Until that point, I think I had been harboring hope that it would be over soon; that the damage could be undone; that lives could be saved. When the camera panned to the vacant space…my hope evaporated. Kendra, Logan, and I stood and stared at the mayhem. I thought about the view from the deck on top of the tower. We held Logan, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright. I may have even managed to say it. But I certainly did not believe that at the time.

We spent most of that day following the news. It was probably far more exposure than a 5 year old should have to that kind of horror, but we were transfixed and it was the reality of the day. We couldn’t turn it off… it was as if we were waiting for the horror to spread…for another attack…we watched and waited. I continued to think about the towers and the impossibility of it all. I had only visited them once, my uncle took us there in 1991 during a summer trip to visit my aunt and cousins. I can’t think of that place without thinking of him. 

I cannot adequately describe the immensity and presence of the buildings. I was awestruck. I was so intimidated by the height and the thought of going all the way to the top that struggled to walk through the doors and onto the express elevator at mid day beneath clear skies. How humbling it was to see men and women charging in force through the doors and up thousands of steps toward fire and smoke and the unknown. How heartbreaking to know so many were consumed by the collapse and that their lives, and the lives they sought to save, were taken. But how hopeful to see the figures in the streets covered in ash and soot, combing tirelessly through the rubble in search of loved ones…and strangers. There is the courage. And how inspiring to hear of the passengers that seized the opportunity to make a stand. There is the courage.

We talked to Logan about the attack as often as he wanted to. Some days he had a few questions and had some thoughts to share; other days he wouldn’t bring it up at all. I tried to tell him about the World Trade Center…about the enormous elevator that rocketed us to the observation floor…about floor to ceiling windows that allowed you to look out across the city and, for those so inclined, to look straight down. I tried to tell him about standing on top of the building and feeling like I was in a dream. Eternal visibility in all directions. No sensation of moving or swaying… feeling as firmly planted as if I was standing on the sidewalk down below…looking out into limitless possibilities… and sharing that vision with countless, nameless people from anywhere and everywhere. I wish he could have seen it. 

While I mourn the loss of lives and the tainting of memories, and detest the cloud of fear and suspicion that has since settled upon our society, I try to dwell on the compassion and strength that was demonstrated in the wake of the attack and it helps me believe we can shake this funk and focus on those things again. And I am glad he did see that.

I will never forget the atrocity, but I will always remember the courage.

Thanks for sharing the memory… tell the ones you love you love ‘em.

Ethan and I stood and watched the boys take a few more turns… Jaden from the low board, and Dillon from the high dive… then we all went over to the basketball hoop in the shallow end. After a couple minutes, Jaden got a big grin and started over to the high dive. I followed over with him. As Jaden stood at the top holding the rail, he began to retreat momentarily. He looked down at me, and then over to his mom and Dillon. Kendra was holding Ethan and Dillon was standing near them. All eyes were on Jaden. He looked back down to me and then turned forward and walked right off the edge…splash!

Later in the afternoon, after several more jumps from the high dive (including a couple front flips from Dillon – I’m not sure Kendra’s pulse rate has returned to normal) I pulled the boys aside individually to let them know how proud I was of them for conquering fear that day: Jaden – for coming to terms and addressing his fears on his own, and for continuing to jump until the looks of concern on the way down changed into expressions of joy; and Dillon – for putting his own fear secondary and making the leap first so that his brother could see and understand that the fear could be defeated in the first place. This is one of those “can’t even begin to explain” feelings… they never spoke about the diving board until they both jumped off the high dive. They would just watch each other. I studied Dillon watching Jaden jump from the high dive his 2nd time… he watched Jaden, expressionlessly, but seemed to get what he needed from his observation. A few minutes later, Dillon was at the top of the high dive doing a front flip into the pool. After his second flip, Jaden seemed to have released all fear and was genuinely enjoying himself up there.

Towards the end of the day, Kendra decided to be a sport and try the high dive. Dillon was done with the diving boards (apparently his work was done). He and I were playing basketball and splashing around. We paused to hold Ethan and watch Jaden and Kendra take their turns on the board. Jaden got to the top of the board and out past the handles, then quickly turned around and ran back to the ladder. I thought it odd, but he was smiling, so I just looked over to Dillon for some insight – poker face. Jaden leaned over the ladder and yelled something down to Kendra, then turned (grinning ear to ear) and ran down the board and bounced off into the pool. He waited by the ladder out of the pool for her. They laughed and ran back to the ladder and went up and in again like a couple of old friends. Even Ethan got into the action… he took a few turns off the low dive – the first time without even a life vest; and another time after he bounced too early and went off the side rather than over the front, he fought his way out of Kendra’s arms and back over to me on the deck so he could get back on the board and do it right (words cannot express how happy I am not to have a pool at home… this one would be jumping off our balcony or off the roof to circumvent the pool fence).

I asked Kendra what Jaden said to her when she was in line, and she told me he said “Don’t be afraid mom. Just don’t look down when you get up here!” And he was right…all three boys provided lessons for me that afternoon (I just know one day I am going to do something that THEY can learn from) Ethan reminded me about tenacity and being willing to forget failures quickly. Jaden showed the value of applying the examples of others to one’s own understanding and doing things at a pace with which one is comfortable, and also the beauty of paying that learning forward. Dillon demonstrated compassion and sacrifice… he could easily have gloated after he jumped in or teased his brother about being afraid. Instead, he saw his brother struggle with something, and demonstrated to him how it could be overcome until his brother was comfortable doing it and could take a lesson away from it on his own. Their behavior encouraged me… they even made me think jumping from an unstable fiberglass platform extending unsupported 10 feet over the surface of the 12 foot deep water looked like fun…so I took a couple turns off the high dive – something I had done exactly twice in my life.

Sometimes you just have to have faith… that it isn’t really as high as it looks, that you aren’t falling as far as it feels, that no matter how deep you go underwater you are never out of reach…sometimes you have to just keep stepping forward, remembering all the reasons you have to be brave… and not look down.

It’s like standing in line to ride that roller-coaster for the first time… you hear the shrieks and screams of those ahead of you and you’re not really sure what to expect… you see people survive the ride and get off, and some even come back to ride again… when it’s your turn, you sit down, strap in, and hold on.  There are moments you lose your breath, moments you scream out loud, moments you want to close your eyes and wish you were back on the ground, and moments when you are grinning ear to ear. The best part is, with kids, the ride is never the same… the down side is, as I am finding out, it seems to go by just as quickly.

I think back to when it was just Logan, Kendra, and me… life was full and days were packed. It didn’t seem possible that the curious little boy I knew would grow into the creative young man he is becoming. It does not seem long ago when Logan was tearing up and down the street in his Big Wheel or boldly demanding his training wheels be removed from his bike. I still vividly remember the day he said goodbye to his life preserver at the apartment swimming pool when he saw another little boy his age swimming without one. He decided then that he would always be one to shine… that light still glows in him… I can’t wait to see that light in full shine!

Thinking back even further when I ventured out into the “real world” and set out for Phoenix in search of a career, I had no idea what a blessing was in store for me in Logan and Kendra. In a blink, we went from three to five…now Logan is on the cusp of adolescence, Jaden and Dillon are nearing Kindergarten age, and baby #4 is rounding the turn. We have had no shortness of twists and turns or loop the loops, but all in all, we continue to enjoy the ride. I have no idea what the next step will bring. God continues to bless us in ways we could not imagine… so I stand here terrified, overjoyed, listening to the symphony of emotions of those that ride ahead of me… and look forward to taking this ride one more time.

Kiss your kids!