Fourteen Years and…

the family

Fourteen years and…

Sixteen attendants (eight each)

Four ushers.

One flower girl.

One ring bearer.

Two guest book attendants.

One wedding coordinator.

One pastor.

One beautiful bride.

One anxious/excited/humbled groom.

Two people became one.

Two families merged into one bigger family.

Two dogs (RIP)

One apartment.

6 Houses.

Two States.

Lots of Jobs.

One Record.

One Book in progress.

Two lawnmowers.

One pool.

Four health clubs.

Several churches.

One Masters Degree.

Two bands and one solo effort.

Six guitars, two keyboards, one drumset, a PA, dozens of effects pedals a few amps and one piano in need of tuning.

Half a dozen bicycles.

Three grills.

One bedroom furniture set.

Half a dozen sets of couches.

Thirteen cars and one fairly short-lived motorcycle.

Various Apple products.

A few speeding tickets but no accidents. (well the one minor one that the girl on the cellphone hit us).

Paris, Cancun, New York, D.C., LA, Chicago, Dallas, Boston, Jacksonville, Portland, Cleveland, OKC, Tulsa, Branson, Vail, Breckenridge, Frisco, Durango, Winter Park, Steamboat, Buena Vista, Cape Cod  Orlando, Clearwater, Divide, Denver, Ouray, Telluride, Guthrie, Lake of the Ozarks, Grand Lake, Lake Tenkiller, Keystone Reservoir, Lake Dillon, Lake Vallecito…

A few blizzards.

A couple tornados.

Some hailstorms (sorry VW Passat).

One house fire.

Some CRAZY wildfires.

A couple leadership scandals.

A shooting.

9/11

Two wars.

Three Presidents.

Five Governors.

Four Mayors.

Three Popes.

$0.89 to $4.00 in gas (and about the same for milk).

Dozens of weddings, baby showers and celebrations of wonderful friends and family.

187 viewings of It’s a Wonderful Life.

Even more (for Jenn) of Sweet Home Alabama, Family Man When Harry Met Sally.

Nine Seasons of Everybody Loves Raymond.

Three, err, well “4” seasons of Arrested Development.

Six seasons of Big Bang Theory.

One Avalanche Stanley Cup

One Broncos Superbowl.

One Rockies World Series (appearance).

Two Red Sox World Series.

A thousand tears.

Millions of laughs.

Two years of absolute hell.

Which yielded…

A birth:

One fantastic 9 year old boy with a blue belt in Taekwondo and a heart of gold.

An adoption:

One joyous 2 year old boy with the best hair and smile ever.

Two people turned into four.

One Jesus.

One Marriage.

Two best friends.

One life to share together.

One very thankful man who recognizes he doesn’t deserve any of it.

 

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What is Calling?

What is God’s will?  What is the right thing to do?  How does one know that one is doing what they were meant, or made to do?  Are these are intrinsically American questions, rife with comfort so we are able to even examine ideas? Or is there something bigger, something deeper in all of us that, by ignoring, puts our fulfillment, and perhaps the help of others, in peril ?

Yes. No.  And maybe some grey.

I think that as long as I can remember I’ve felt like I was made to do certain things.  As a boy, adolescent, and young adult being an athlete meant a great deal to me.  As a result, I often thought or said things like, “I was born to do this.”  The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of winning, the feeling of a well-timed, well-executed play in hockey or volleyball, were for me the very elements of a life well-lived.

Similarly throughout my life, the resonance I’ve felt with music has often left me speechless, which for those of you who know me, is something.  I often relate to the moment in Chariots of Fire when the main character Eric Liddel, a missionary with great athletic prowess, tries to explain to his sister why he runs.  “When I run, I sense God’s pleasure.”  Liddell is saying that he senses calling, meaning, fulfillment, and great results when he does what he was built to do.  I often feel that way while playing music.

Which brings us back to the question of whether that feeling is legitimate or not.  It’s been said that human beings make decisions based on emotion, and justify using reason.  If that’s the case, what is to be made of this idea of calling?  What do we do with the things we dream of doing?  Are we merely justifying our own aspirations in the name of some greater good, or greater force?  Are we blaming God for what we simply want to do?

Or is there something deeply, intrinsically a part of us that resonates when we act upon it?  Is there something, unique to each of us, that causes us to act in a manner that another might not?

And if so, what are we to do about it?  Certainly we ought not throw up our hands and radically redirect our lives in a way that allows us to pursue dreams over our responsibilities.  Or is it our responsibility itself that drives us to pursue our dreams?

This last week I was in L.A. to sing in a close friend’s wedding.  I was impressed by my friend’s friends.  Each of them, in their own way, seemed to be acting upon something that drove them.  All of them were very successful.  All of them were doing things that sounded dreamy.

Over the course of a few days’ interaction these things became clearly apparent.  And over that period of time, I also ran into old acquaintances, and met new ones. It seemed to me that the people I met fell into one of three very stereotypical and generalized categories.  Dreamers, Settlers and Undecideds.

The Dreamers, were much as I’ve already described, they seemed alive, energized (not that they weren’t ever tired or stressed) but the seemed peaceful and fulfilled.  And they also seemed to each have acquired a measure of success in their field of influence.

The Settlers also seemed dreamy, but in a different way, they seemed to reminisce, to remember, and even commiserate.  Each of them also seemed to have acquired a certain standard of living (it was L.A. after all) but it seemed hollow, as if it could collapse at any given time.

The Undecideds were often younger, but not always.  Some fresh out of college, some in the workforce for years.  But each of them seemed to have the hint of both dreaming, and settling within them, as if one might pop out and blossom at any moment, given the right (or wrong) opportunity.

All of this has caused me to reconsider.  What am I doing with my life?  Am I doing what I ought to?  What I should?  What I might be able to do?  Am I fully alive?  Am I simply settling for the trappings of an average, middle class American life?  Of course there’s nothing wrong with an average, middle class American life.  But for me, and I hope for you, this causes more reflection, and ultimately more intention and follow through.

I guess the good news is that on the flight back I wrote a song.  The bad news, I haven’t finished it yet.

Why $2 Dinosaurs and Empty Boxes Rock

I had a fantastic experience this morning.  While working in my home office, I heard my son playing upstairs.  “ROOOOAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!” He was playing with his new toys.

Last night we went to Target to get some window treatments, and bought our boy a couple $2 plastic toy dinosaurs.  The rest of the evening he had those two toys, he called them “Toorex” (t-rex) and “Staygo” (stegosaurus).  Staygo is the “good” dinosaur, and toorex the bad.  Turns out Toorex wanted to hurt a princess and Grant and Staygo were trying to save her by defeating Toorex with lot’s of loud “ROOOAAAARRS!”

So he went to bed holding them, and the moment he woke this morning, snatched them up and began the “ROAAAARRING,” afresh. I came upstairs  to see what all the commotion was about – and there he was, all bleary-eyed, still half-asleep, ROARING his heart out.

As a parent, those sounds are quite remarkable.  The sight of your child  just playing totally enjoying himself is amazing.  And it’s a great reminder that we don’t need all the latest, greatest stuff.  Kids are beautiful and innocent and creative and imaginative.  As adults, we often forget the fact that play involves those things more than it involves expensive toys.  You see it every Christmas morning across America when all those big expensive toys get pulled out of the boxes that become the favorite toy by the end of the day.

So this morning, my four-year-old reminded me of the wonder that life holds, if we’ll simply take the time to view it through the eyes of innocence and creativity.