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Mentoring Profile #7: James Norwood Blazer Senior

My grandpa was a WW2 Co-Pilot in a bomber (Claims Hitler gave up after he heard Jim Blazer had shown up), a salesman (mostly to industrial plumbing companies), played the stand up bass his whole life, had four children, and refinished furniture in his spare time. This is his flight school picture.

He is the kind of man whose relational weight will not be known this side of Heaven. His funeral was huge because he learned how to use his cell phone. And, as far as I can tell had lunch with every man in Northeast Oklahoma. He kept in touch with his flight crew his whole life, helped a distant second cousin with ancestry stuff for the Blazers, had lunch with his pastor every Sunday night for as long as I can remember (even after that Pastor built his church into one of the largest in the country). I believe he and Grandma began several support groups at their church - but I don't know that that is blog-material.

He once took me aside and took five minutes to explain to me that my grandma is the funniest person he has ever met. It was a wonderful five minutes. I have since learned how true it is - my grandma can be funny through jokes, good-sarcasm, exaggeration, and pure silliness. My grandpa was more of a knock knock joke man. Last week my dad told me this joke. "I know two short jokes and one long one, do you want to hear them? (Do I have a choice?) joke, joke, jjjjoooooooooookkkkeeeeee." If Geeps (my nickname for him since i was a kid) were still around he would be desperately trying to send that joke throughout Tulsa County.

There is more of course - more background, more about his father David E. E. Blazer (whose fountain pens are on my wall and whose business phone was 5 digits long), more about their kids... But mainly I remember consistency. He was at my spelling bee in 5th grade, and the legend is that he also mis-spelled "lightning" with me. I would have got it right had I asked for an example. I spelled it "lightening" as in "lightening in the load" ':} I ate at their house more times than I could count, stayed in their guest room frequently as a kid, always made him get out one of the 2-3 swords he had hanging around the house (or old Revolutionary War guns). Grandma and I played a lot of gin and scrabble, but Geeps was always there (usually in his recliner).

I appreciated him, loved him, miss him, wish I would have asked him to teach me more about refinishing furniture or how to play the stand up bass.

Geeps came to know the LORD late in life after listening to a televangelist - which really helps me to not hate them. I didn't know him before that, and his faith was very shaped by Tulsa-Bible-Belt culture. But, I know that he knew the LORD, prayed for his family, gave away what he had, and loved as best as he knew how. Geeps and Grandma have had to see a lot of pain the past few years - probably no more than many of their age, but it was still hard. They were sometimes leveraged into bad situations they didn't deserve to be drug into. But, this is what I know: 20 years after a divorce from my dad Geeps walked up to my mom and said, "Hey there pretty lady" as though no time had passed and nothing had gone wrong since they had first met in the mid-70's. This was at my college graduation.

Once I was talking with another member of the family who was in pretty bad shape. I told him to stop posturing as a Christian, stop reading his Bible for awhile, and when he did read it to pray like the Psalmists who are so honest with God about their fears, hopes, anger, etc. The incident that led me to say this was warranted.

Geeps was 80 at the time and present for the conversation. He later told me he couldn't sleep after what I had said, and that he got up later and read Psalm 88. I count that as one of the most spiritually humbling moments of my life. I am still amazed that the Holy Spirit would do that when I clearly have so much to learn about family, love, hard work, and faithfulness from Geeps.

He died in 2008. The nice suit I own I bought for his funeral. He would have been proud in a straightforward way. Not in the way that thinks I am more spiritual, but the kind where you are proud because you understand that this is clearly the vocation of your grandson and you are proud and wish him well.

There is always more to say. When I see Grandma I pick her brain about their early life, and about their stories. I am reading "The Greatest Generation" in hopes to understand the two of them a little more. I love and miss Geeps. Apparently I used to go up to him as a kid and say (all the time according to my dad and Grandma), "Hey Geeps, I have an idea, let's get a book and read it!" Good thing Christians never really say goodbye I guess.

Mentoring Profile #6: Donald Toomey

Dr. Donald Toomey is my mom's dad. He is not her biological father, and I don't know when I learned that but it never made any different - he was always Grandpa, her dad, etc.

I wish I knew his story better and will hopefully get to spend some time with Grandma this weekend to learn it more thoroughly. I know that I have a photo album of his time as a WW2 photographer (he enlisted before he was 18 because he believed in serving); and the photos are amazing - some taken right before (and in) the Nuremberg Trials.

I got to go to their 50th Wedding Anniversary in 2001, where my Grandma could not stop talking about the kiss "he planted on me" on Friday night.

He did not go to my high school graduation, and he told me it was because everyone did that but that he would come to my college one (which he did). I thought it was funny then, and I think it is funny now.

Grandpa had a PHD in Geology (Grandma drew the pictures - meticulously) for his thesis. He was a learned man, and spent his retirement making young artists famous in New Mexico with his journal articles. He wrote a book about 19th Century California Missions and especially the influence of Father Junipero Serra I remember him showing me the system in his library - all the books standing up were the ones he had read, and the ones laying down were on his "to-read" shelf.

In 1999 I discussed a book on Revelation that attempted to read it as 3 scrolls; letters, worship, and war. 9 years later he and I began writing letters to one another and he asked me to send him the book. That is how thoughtful and intelligent he was.

My grandpa has weaknesses. I think he would have wished for a degree in psychology to heal all of the wounds in his own family. At the same time, he did not sit idly - he loved well when and where he could. I would be surprised and disappointed if any of us doubted his love and willingness to offer whatever he could when needed. Probably that could be said of most grandparents, but his personality was such that it was an ever-present reality when you were with him. The sense of love - even without lots of words.

I received my Masters of Divinity Diploma in December, and walked last week. Of all of my grandparents, he would have been the most proud. They were all proud, but he is the most learned. My brother has a PHD in Philosophy - and that is in no small part related to our grandfather.

He is famous for his retorts following someone sneezing. The first sneeze would generally go unrecognized, but the second received one of 2 responses, "Oh, wipe it off the walls!" or, "Once more and we'll vote on it!" And if you sneezed a third time, you might hear, "Oh shut up!" Said in fun.

Grandpa died in 2009 in his office. He was in the house with the only woman he ever loved, he went peacefully. I think my rememberance/mentoring is this: Grandpa loved well. He loved his wife, his daughters, learning. If he was my only mentor I think I would be okay.

Shortly after he died, Grandma sent me one of his sculptures - of St. Francis. St. Francis means a lot to me, but he means more because I believe this sculpture was on Grandpa's desk. Thanks Grandma.

As a grandson it is especially wonderful to think about how well he loved his wife and how well he loved my mom. It still makes me happy, even as I wish I could have more time with him. Thankfully, I'm confident I will get that time eventually.

Mentoring Profile #5: The Marvel Universe

So, the reason I haven't written in awhile is that I cannot decide what next to write about (or who).

My main thoughts were another author: John Eldredge or Brennan Manning; possibly John Piper, but it was really just his way of thinking "by enjoying Him forever" from the Shorter Catechism...

Second Main thought (really the first) was... BA ba ba ba: The Marvel Universe.

When I was 12 and 13 I read 9 comic books, and got what backdated copies I could find. I read Iron Man, Thor, the Amazing Spiderman (there were like 4 Spideys at the time, now there are like 51), XMEN, the Uncanny XMEN, XFORCE, XFACTOR... maybe it was 7 because that is all I can come up with. I have been saying 9 for 20 years now, but maybe it was 7.

I promise I will get back to real people, but I saw Iron Man 2 the day it came out and loved it - so I thought I would go ahead and write this post. Partly because War Machine was invented when I was reading the comics, but also because Tony Stark is a very real human - narcissistic, brilliant, but very dark and selfish also.

Mostly comic book folk solve their problems by punching someone or kissing someone. There are undertones, some good artwork, meta-themes (like oppression, the grand story of the unlikely hero, etc.), but as far as I can tell problems are solved by punching/kissing. I tried the second one to no avail throughout my teenagedom.

In all seriousness, I think I learned that 'heroes' have back stories, darkness doesn't preclude light. Or something... Bad guys can become good guys by choice.

And, as a man, there was a pleasant amount of violence, speed, movement - of - story. It took me about 20 minutes to read a comic, and most of the time there was a good bit of closure.

As I get older I am less sure of what I know, but the world seems simpler. The Marvel Universe, without regard to the plots of villains, is a simple place. So, in addition to (literally) thousands of almost useless facts, the Marvel Universe presented a nice outlet, lots of explosions, and an appreciation of the real role of story in a heroes life - it is just a story, there are still choices and people on the other side.

Mentor Profile #4: Joe MItchell

Joe was in my story about Kris Cooper. He is a good friend, his wife has a blog, and I worked under him at Kanakuk for 3 Summers.

He and I power-sprayed a track and two tennis courts one week. Power Spraying a track and a tennis court is fun because power spraying is fun. It is not fun because being lightly shaken all day is not fun. Also, because a power sprayer (a good one anyway) will strip paint if you have the right nozzle on it. In this case, we were walking a line because we were going to re-paint what we stripped... So, strip the courts, but not with abandon. Or something... Anyway, that is how I spent my first week with Joe.

Here is what I remember about Joe (who is, I think, 1 or 2 years old than me). When we worked together he would typically say, "It'll be alright." To new ideas mostly. Meaning, 'I'm tired, let's think of a better and more efficient way of doing this... and if we don't I will have rested for five minutes on my rock rake.' Joe's answer, "It'll be alright." Means: we have man-power (implication: not genius engineering) behind us, let's just finish the job. Sometimes he would say, "It'll probably be alright." If you ever hear me say this, what I have actually just said is, "the process is actually fine and I think we just need to finish it." What I learned from Joe here was to just keep working. I still don't always do this, I wasn't exactly mentored in a 'roll up your sleeves' kind of house; but I am a lot better since working with Joe.

Joe and I aren't too similar. But, for a few years we would talk in March about basketball, and if I called him now and asked about the Lakers (his team), we would have a nice talk. He would then indulge me in regards to the Celtics (my team).

Joe played a bit of point guard when we had some time for bball at camp. We liked playing together. Once, I stepped back and missed a 3 and he said, "You were trying to step back like Reggie (Miller)." A few years later I did it successfully against a league team, and thought of what he said. He is a good player, uses the backboard well and tends to forget that he can score pretty well.

What I remember from playing basketball with him was that if I did something dumb or missed a layup he would get on my case, but not in the irritating way. I knew he just wanted to win, he knew I didn't want to miss, but he provided that strange kind of man-encouragement that sounds discouraging, but is really just us understanding language backwards or something. Kind of like when I was studying for my ordination exams and Rick kept telling me he would kick my ass if I didn't pass them. It was encouraging.

I remember other things, like he and my wife attempting to date :). I remember that he helped me understand that kids will always want to do something more if you go and do it with them. I remember him reacting well to a guy getting very sick (not to his stomach, but not-breathing-kind-of-sick) at the pool one summer. I remember that Joe is great friends my oldest Kanakuk friend Stuart Finley (we were campers together in 1985).

But, under Joe I learned about hard work, enjoyed some basketball, and forever adopted a phrase that helps me to keep working at stuff, "probably be alright..."

Mentor Profile #3: Andre Dubus

When I moved to St. Louis I was tired of trying to improve myself through books, trying to assimilate so much Christian information, etc. that I took a break from reading Christian books. During this time I picked up a book an ex-girlfriend had given me called, "Meditations from a Movable Chair". It is a book of essays by Andre Dubus.

I have since purchased every book of his I could find.

Some of his short stories have been made into movies. Namely: "In the Bedroom" (Story is called "The Killings"), and "We don't live here anymore" (book is good, but the 2 companion novellas make it fantastic).

There are sub-themes to his literature that involve running, sex, masculinity, marriage, raising children, coming-of-age, etc. But, I think the two things I 'learned' from Andre Dubus were to enjoy literature again; just in and of itself to enjoy reading. And he labeled many small gifts in life as sacraments.

Dubus is the first author I read after being sick last year. He is who I pick up if my only goal is relaxation. I have only found one person who likes him even half as much as I do - my old neighbor who is a professor at Webster U (which makes me feel smart that she likes him).

The other thing he mentored me in was enjoying small things. A sacrament, in this sense, is simply a grace or gift. Running is a gift, having a good conversation (especially with my four year old) is a gift, a good drink is a gift. Peter Devries says it this way, "The greatest gift known to man is the recovery of the commonplace: coffee in the morning and whiskey in the evening without fear." When I am here (in a place of enjoying 'the commonplace') it is partly because of the writing of Andre Dubus.

Mentor Profile #2: Dale and Dave

Since I tackled a huge one with number 1, I thought I would do an easier mentoring moment I had a few years ago for the second post.

When I first moved to STL I rented a little house in South Webster Groves, and it had a nice corner lot. As the Spring rolled around I let the grass get a bit long and was instructed by my landlord to mow it (it was in the lease that he could charge me 40/week if I didn't mow it). So, I mowed it, didn't bag it, and shot a lot of the grass into the street.

Across the street from me lived two older men - both retired, Dave and Dale, next door to one another. They came over to talk with me about the grass in the street. They began with firmness, and then were gentle - I have no idea if I had anything to do with this, or if is just 'how they are'. Dave and Dale explained that it was unacceptable to have grass in the street. This is not how you mow, keep up your yard, or be a neighbor. But, if I wanted to borrow Dave's blower to put the grass back in my yard I was welcome to it. Dave was clear that he was not offering to blow it for me (Dave was probably 70)! They seemed to figure out that I did not understand these things - either instinctively or through previous mentoring.

I remember being annoyed. I had better things to do, I was trying to build a youth ministry, etc. But, I also remember using his blower. Then, going over to borrow some clamps for a table I was making; then having a Nat Light with him in his yard one day (Dave drank Nat Light; he was an old painter and that was just fine with him to get his beer at Aldi's). I only lived there for about a year and a half, but I still see Dave's old work van tooling around sometimes. He had an annoying little dog (really his wife's dog); I don't miss the dog.

It was a good, light lesson - on being a man, taking care of one's yard, listening to older men, and general neighborliness.

Mentor Profile #1: Kris Cooper

I wonder if it is the Enlightenment that makes me think I am supposed to KNOW and/or be able to put into words what I LEARNED from a person... something about that seems to not fit.

Alas, Mr. Cooper is my answer to the question of 'who is your hero?'.

I attended Kanakuk Kamps from 1985-1991. I was at Mr. Cooper's Kamp for the first 5 of those years. He was the director. During that time I lost my right thumb. Well, I didn't 'lose' it. I know exactly where it has been until the day after they finished the job started by the... Well, that's another story isn't it? Anyway, Coops assures me that there was some discussion amongst camp counselors about my missing digit the next year :)

In 1996 I went to work for him as a Counselor in Training. I turned in my application at least 2 months late, without references. I was accepted - this is grace; especially if you know how difficult it is to work for Kanakuk.

I was a total smart ass and therefore had the unenviable job (at the track meets) of 'runner'. You run 2 sprints for every race there is (once there, once back). There are 9 50's and 9 100's. It was a good work out. Coops told me I would be the runner, made sure I understood it was kind of voted on (by the other counselors; did I mention I was a smart ass? I was), but he didn't say it with animosity or even joking in his voice and the amount of respect he commands dictated that the other men were sort of humbled by his announcing it to me - they wanted it, but he could have vetoed it at any point). Men have to deal with men, we have to learn lessons, etc. This was good loving of a young man; gracious, but without pretense. I remember another example from that year, but it served the same point as the 'runner' one.

Next year and the year after I was not challenged or humbled by life or my assignments at camp. In 1999 all of that changed - I was asked to be an 'Uncle' which means you show up for about 10 days, get paid 120 bucks, and work very hard. I was in a bad relationship at the time and felt I should tell him about it - grace. I learned about hard work (friends like Joe Mitchell helped with this also). I repeatedly lost at a game centered around your work gloves and not losing them. When I say repeatedly I mean: I lost my gloves five times. Every time you lose them you have to draw a penalty from the hat (someone steals them really... mine even were taken by another camp, that is how bad I was at the glove game). I got the 'free' pass, which means I only had four penalties.

It did not occur to me to attempt to renege on my penalties. It is worth mentioning these penalties to understand why it was significant that I didn't weasel out of them. I had to wear a Cape for 10 days. I negotiated being able to take the cape off for sports competitions. I had to sleep in a pup tent. Very few know this, but at 6:00 AM the next morning I took my pillow up to a Chapel and got exactly 1 hour of non-dew sleep. I wore 8 Russian Dancing outfits in one day. And, I had to wear a climbing harness all of another day.

It did not occur to me to renege - I probably assumed I would be crucifixed or something if I didn't follow through :) Apparently, it meant a lot that I did my best (with the now-public one hour segment unknown at the time) to keep the penalties. I also started to receive affirmation from some different things at camp; these almost always came from being humbled and finding out later that I persevered well or something.

It was a hard summer, in the way that college students think is hard. At the end of the summer I was offered a strange position called 'trip director'. I told the guy (Joe again) that I would do it if he needed me. I remember learning the lesson, the next day, that people don't ask for things they don't really need. Being a trip director was a blast, it was very hard work in some senses. It was that summer that I learned how much better people learn if they put something together on their own (random, but this is a random-thoughts blog right?).

What does this have to do with Kris Cooper, why he is my hero, and what I learned from him about masculinity? First of all, I'm not in any of these positions if he didn't believe in me enough, and secondly, I am slowly learning - mostly not from words - what it means to be a young man. To follow through, to finish a job, to handle a chain saw - to be a man.

The next year was much harder. My dad and step-mom began divorcing, I was again in a bad relationship, I was very disoriented and lonely. I rode back from a campsite with Coops and talked about where I was - grace from him. It was a lonely Summer. I stole a parking sign for reasons that do not concern you - it was VERY funny to my fellow trip men, and I think Coops thought it was funny too. He was often willing to bend the rules a bit, or laughed with us when we bent them in acceptable ways. The first day of Uncle Week I got to follow Coops around and drag away trees he cut down with his chain saw. Joe White was cutting too, but I felt like I was following Coops. It was a good day, and not just because it seemed anecdotal :) At the end of the day he asked one of our work crew directors if anyone stood out as a hard worker; the guy told him I was the first one who volunteered to hold re-bar while it was sledged into what would later become a pool. He asked about this because there was an "uncle of the day" thing. We decided to forego the award for that day, but Coops later told me that that was what the guy said. I think what is important here is that he just told me; didn't try to pat me on the back with extra words or adverbs or something. He just wanted me to know what this man said, and let it stand as encouragement from one man to another. Here is what I heard from a man I respect, "Good job today."

2001 was my last Summer working at Kanakuk. I remember being sad coming into the Summer - it had been another difficult year, much worse circumstances than the year before in regards to my family. I remember being so tired that the thought of good hard, uncle-week-like-work sounded amazing... And, it was. Kris and his wife were very happy Rachel and I started dating that Summer. When possible they would schedule us together at parties and stuff for the kids. Some other staff members actually held my letters to her up under lights to try and read them... I still find this amazing and funny.

I remember a few things about Coops from this Summer. At the end of 'Uncle Week' girls arrive. We have had our guy time, and sometimes think they are intruding. its dumb I know. Coops was talking to us about them arriving, trying to encourage us in welcoming them. I don't know if you have caught on to this, or if I have mentioned it - he isn't a big talker. He will talk, but isn't one for speeches. So, he is encouraging us. I think I was the first to dissent, but it doesn't matter really, we started being 22 year old guys and whining about them ruining our guy time. He gave us a second, and then, without looking up, repeated himself about the importance of encouraging them. Same tone of voice, same words. I have NEVER seen a group of stupid young men quiet down so fast and look so guilt-stricken. We were mortified that our hero and friend had to repeat himself because we were joking around. He just commands that kind of respect. I don't think our guilt lasted either - because we knew he wasn't mad. We just knew we needed to change the way we were thinking about the girls coming, we changed immediately. Because he repeated himself.

I remember a few other stories from my last summer - of him coming alongside some of the most obnoxious people I knew, of fighting for men's hearts when they did incredibly dumb things. But the last story is about me - because this is my blog! The last summer I worked at camp I stopped being a director and went back to being a 'regular' counselor. There were a lot of reasons for this, but essentially I wanted to. One night we were playing a very large and elaborate game of Capture the Flag, and about 6 minutes into it I realized my cabin only had defensive capabilities. I decided to change that by using every fire extinguisher I could find in defense of my 13 year old boys - and because I was tired of these rules that enabled me to get hit by water balloons every four minutes.

I also played "Pour Some Sugar on me" in a skit... that was just dumb, this is a conservative, evangelical camp!

Anyway, back to the extinguishers: the 'Safety Officer' wrote me a ticket for taking my cabin up a slide that night (you're supposed to go down, as we tell Caroline). I asked him about the Extinguishers and he said I would have to talk to Coops. This delighted me because 1 - it was funny, 2 - I knew Coops well enough to have some idea of how this would go. Maybe a week later I asked him if we needed to talk about it. He said, "what do you think that I think?" I said, "I think you would have done something similar in my shoes." He said, "That's probably right..." Or something like that.

It has been a few years since I have seen Kris Cooper. I follow his oldest son on Twitter. I assume word has gotten back to him that I am a pastor, I know some of his staff knew I was sick. He has 6 children and I learned from him as a father and a husband. He and his wife have a special whistle if they see each other but are too far away to chat - its awesome. He was on a panel once on marriage, and the only thing I remember him saying when someone forced the mic on him was, "Give... give.. give..." then he handed the mic to the girl next to him. Then, he took it back and said, "And give".

Those kinds of stories are not the point though. I remember that he said that not because it was powerful or even because I agree (irrelevant); I remember that he said that because of who he is

I used to say that Kris Cooper lives the Gospel that the Apostle Paul wrote about. I think that that is still true. But, I think what actually happened is that I grew up and became a man under Kris Cooper's watch. I can talk about the Bible, funny stories, or how he is with his kids for many more pages (stories keep coming to mind). But, I'm not going to. I'm just going to say one more thing: we aren't close. We weren't close when I worked there. But, I still grew up and became a man under his watch. I doubt he will read this, but if anyone at Kamp does read it - tell him I said thanks.

Band of Brothers

I have not yet seen Band of Brothers - as I write this episode 3 is ending. It didn't grab me like I thought it would, but is certainly growing on me.

This past weekend I had the privilege (?) of standing in front of Presbytery to finish the testing part of ordination. I won't bore you with the details - suffice to say it was semi-grueling, and my first question from the floor was about snake handlers at the end of Mark.

The beginning of the exam (the 5th of 5) asks you to share some of your story. Afterward a friend mentioned that there have been a lot of men in my life. So, I will (again) attempt to revive my blog in an attempt to think - and therefore appreciate - what these people (mainly men, but not exclusively) have meant to me as I look to turn 33 in a few weeks.

Any thoughts on categories?

Peers that I clearly learned from

Slightly-less-than-superhero-figures-like-Kris-Cooper

Family?

Authors?

Specific Mentors

Teachers who took some extra time

Sports Mentors?

Academic Mentors?

Pastor Mentors?

Men who probably wanted to beat me senseless but didn't (this list could overlap with others)?

I Love Pixar

Therefore, this is in honor of my wife... Notice they stole my joke (not like it is a new joke) to name a dog with a human name. Ron would like Dug. If we got another dog we were going to name it Greg or Doug.

This Youtube Clip left out one of our favorite lines, "I can see why you would think that because I said it."

brush

I like being married. Its weird and funny. Much harder than I thought, better than I thought, but the definition of 'better' might be different than I would have thought when single...

On Sunday in church Rachel sighed... it sounded like a "I'm mildly tired, not unhappy... just not feeling like going running" kind of a sigh (probably should have hyphenated that). I almost said to her, in sheer reaction, "You're right, we should go to Chipotle after church". I didn't. No more than 2 minutes later she whispered to me, "I was thinking Chipotle?" It was funny to me.

A few weeks ago we had a conversation that I wanted her to blog about, and she politely declined. I found the conversation funny so I will attempt to recreate it here.

Piece of information you need to know to understand: my hair is pretty thick, and short enough that most days I don't do anything to it. Literally: anything.

Rachel: So, is it weird that you never have to brush your hair?

Matt: ...

Rachel: It doesn't really occur to you does it? That most people brush their hair, and/or have to do things to it before they leave the house.

Matt: Not really.

Rachel: You used to brush it right?

Matt: Yeah, I think so. (In My head: that would be high school? Junior High?)

Rachel: But, you used to... so you have hair brushes right?

Matt: ... (gazing at her, not really smiling, but letting her piece it together)

Rachel: So, you did have them right?

Matt: right.

Rachel: Well, where are they now? The brushes?

Matt: ... (wait for it)

Rachel: You have no idea where they are, right? Even though there was a time in your life where you employed them?

Matt: Right. (In my head I am thinking that the last time I brushed my hair would have been at 29th and peoria in Tulsa. Last time I lived there would have been high school... no telling where any brushes are I guess...)

What I find interesting about marriage is that I can communicate so much with my wife, and yet she will never really understand what it takes for me (because the answer is: 'nothing it just happens') to have no idea where my hair brushes are. Because she doesn't lose things (although, when she does it stresses her out a lot more than it does me... because I lose things all the time). So - she understands so much without me having to say it, and yet my ability (let's just keep calling it an ability okay?) to lose things is still somewhat amazing to her.

I find that interesting. And funny.

Air

I think I remember to breathe more now than I used to. I don't mean I used to not breathe, I mean I used to not breathe. Like, stop and take a breath breaths.

I'm posting this picture because I love my kids and I love my city. We went to the Confection Show at the Botanic Gardens on Saturday (you can see how much my kids liked the confections!), and ended up walking outside for awhile because it was just warm enough.

I still struggle with rhythms at home being so different than rhythms at work (and I have a people oriented job, I can't imagine what a pure results-driven job is like to come home from!) Meaning: it isn't easy to come home and just sit on the floor without checking my email and stuff, but is it is a good struggle - to sit and play, to sit and watch (when they are happily playing or reading). I don't know that I am better at reflection, but I am certainly more interested in it.

I don't know that I am a better father, but I am more interested in my kids. No, that isn't the right word. I am better able (slightly) to take a breath and remember how important they are. I think stuff still bugs me, and my movement from anxiety, to anger, to entitled "If I were in charge of the whole world it would run smoother" - thinking, is the same... But, I transition through it faster. This actually overlaps with my loathing of 270 - which many of you have assured me you share with me.

I don't know if my perspective is different. I just looked up perspective on my computer, and I was thinking of the second definition (which is about the way you see things colloquially), but the first definition is this:

1 the art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point [as adj. ] : a perspective drawing. See also linear perspective and aerial perspective .

In light of this, I do not think my perspective is different. I don't see the world differently. But, I believe more strongly in what I believed before I was sick. That kind of sounds arrogant... I don't mean to, I just don't know that I see the world differently as much as I am interested in looking longer. Or something.

Does this make any sense?

Thoughts?

Discuss...

B1Y

So, today is/was my day off and I decided to shoot some baskets at the Rec. Center. As I was working out I decided that I should call my workout B41Y - B for basketball, 41 minutes for about how long I did it (really an hour, but I sat down once and shot about 60 free throws). The Y is for "Why the Hell would you do P90X when you could do B41Y?", but Rachel says the 90 is for how many days. So: B1Y is my workout; sounds more like a disease...

I enjoyed it. I enjoyed my kids a lot today - they are beautiful and funny and weird.

I sat at the landing of the stairs on the way to the playroom before bed, they threw things at me, I threw them back. It was all pretty fun until Julia threw a stroller. Seriously. No one was injured, but seriously? There were so many things in between the felt blocks and the plastic stroller. Oh well. I guess she threw some large stuffed animals as a warning first.

Rachel and I watched Frozen River. it just reminded me that movies make me a lot more tense than they used to. Redemption is strange in this movie, light enough to make you think it is believable, but as you go the fridge (google "Fridge logic", apparently it is an industry term) you think, "Nah.... but I liked it".

Then, I finished Hurt Locker. I don't know how I felt about it. Mainly because I was talking with an Iraq vet once when some guys asked him if he had seen it. How come people don't ask me if I have seen this or that movie about people who had cancer? Then ask, "I just wonder what you thought of it and if you thought it was realistic?" His response was light and awesome, "Well, do they just sit around for 90% of the time and then the other 10% is so crazy you can't even figure out how to talk about it? If that is the movie, seems like it would be boring, but realistic."

I'm being harsh, but not anecdotally. I am not mad at those guys; no one who hasn't been knows how to ask but we're all wondering. But, my friend the veteran (the one whose fault it is that I am reflecting on why/how/where I am different) compared my sickness with his being in Iraq. I don't really see the parallels. I mean I do, but I don't. They seem unnecessary.

How am I different? Movies are less important. I still enjoy them. My Valentine's Day Gift was a card to watch movies, and I am excited - especially for Iron Man II. A Friend said that while I am (was) sick lesser affections would fade. He was correct. They are back; but dim.

Perspective still seems shallow to me. I don't know that seeing Hurt Locker made me more or less empathetic to my friend. I'm just supposed to be empathetic (right? sympathetic would be if I could relate?).

I was trying to explain to the lady cutting my hair that my hair used to stick up. She said that people's hair changes every seven years. I let it go. She did a good job. If I had told her about how chemo kills all cells which make new cells fast she might have messed up my now-well-blended sides.

:)

2 Things I have learned about myself

At least part of the point of continuing to blog is to think, pray, and own the things about me that are different. If you think this is a bad plan you can blame Jeremy; it was essentially his idea.

1. I don't like 270 anymore. This might not be a post-cancer thing. If possible, I do not get on to 270. For instance, the drive to Seminary (at least from our old house, which you should buy) is shorter if you take 44 to 270. But, I don't anymore. Laura showed me the way up Rock Hill to McKnight (My wife also used this way when she worked at the hospital), and I just liked it better. The speed was easier to navigate, less inducing, a rhythm I could get on board with. I prefer five more minutes in the car to getting there faster but going from 70 to 9 intermittently.

2. I think I am less interested in perspective. This has been growing in me in some ways for a long time - like when people come back from Missions trips and their main thing is "how much they have here and how thankful they are". I think that that is true, and a good thing to learn but I don't think a change of perspective changes people. In this case I used to try and relate to people, or semi-consciously compare what I had been through with what they are going through/been through. I didn't mean to do it then, and now I consciously enjoy not trying to do it - I try to listen, be present, etc.

One of the ways this effects me is that in a lot of movies and media people have cancer. It is the disease of choice for the sick or dying person oftentimes. This makes avoiding it socially very difficult. I realized this when I was watching Up in the Air with a friend who is divorced: divorce is everywhere. My sister, who lost her father when she was 1, pointed out to me that fathers are everywhere.

I don't think there is a BIG TRUTH here. I am just sifting through little differences in me, and thinking about them.

The inappropriate movie quote after the media paragraph is from the second scene in Naked Gun, where Leslie Nielsen says, "Everywhere I go I see things that remind me of her."





Thoughts?

Discuss...

Just a couple of quotes

HIghlights from today with my girls.

CKB, "Daddy, you should drink a beer. I will open it for you." (this is because she found the opener and asked what it was for this morning... this conversation is as I am cooking dinner). She opens the beer. "Now you may drink it." I complied.

CKB, "Daddy, I would like to wear my summer shirt - the one with butterflies, and flowers, and all of those beautiful things on it."

CKB, "Daddy, I would like to put on my Fairy Princess Costume so that I will look special for God."

CKB (after every time I put Julia to bed), "Daddy, I want another little sister."

The Magic House was also a lot of fun. Julia doesn't say a ton, but we had a ball today also. She loves Clifford.

Also found out I passed my ordination written tests today. Good feeling, thought I was going to have to sit down I was so relieved. Orals are in April.

As one my my prof's used to say, "I hope you have a good weekend, and a good Lord's Day."

Julie and Julia

Judge me all you want, but I loved this movie.

It went about 20 minutes longer than my 80's-styled desire for a 91 minute movie with songs written just for that movie "Fletch is workin' overtime.... bit by bit..." Julie and Julia was funny, cute, the marriages were very real - there was some real life disappointment, but they didn't have to dwell on it or pretend it didn't affect them.

Plus, I rented it for free. that is right: insideredbox.com. Thanks Todd Johnson.

So, I have 3 minutes to finish this blog, but I did want to throw it up there (up here?). Julie and Julia inspired me. I know there are many of you that like my blog (you have pointed this out by sometimes mentioning you don't like when I write on the church blog... makes me laugh). My goal then, is to write. The sub-goal is for me to learn how I am changed. I was chatting with a friend the other night who was in Iraq, and he was encouraging me to own how I am different post-sickness. This has apparently been a helpful way for him to reflect - I was humbled that he would equate my sickness with war; very humbled. Rachel says it is one of the only things that has happened to me that I am unable to talk about without blanching... Chemotherapy specifically.

This will continue to be a random thoughts blog. I will write about movies, I will try to keep up my old church-correspondence with Bob Dillon, but my underlying post-Julie and Julia goal is to pay attention to how I am different.

As Chandler says to Monica when they realize they will have twins (through adoption), in response to Monica pointing out that he is panicking, "Join me, won't you!?"