Category Archive

there is something to be said for having fatherly companionship; for having that one person that you can always turn to.  someone who has walked the road you’re walking.  who has fought the demons you’re fighting, someone who can tell you that all this… is worth the cost.

the confidence of the 20something male is fragile.  we know, just know we’re born for something more than just the 8-5.  we’re born for more.  we know it.  we’re born with a gaping hole where a mission is supposed to fit.  where a destiny is supposed to be birthed, nurtured and brought to fruition.  we’re born with the capacity, the very need for a calling bigger than we could ever be.  we’re born with the need for….

a battle.  a war to fight, and a woman to fight for.

i know, it sounds stupid.  and if you’re really ‘forward thinking’, it probably sounds constricting, cookie cutter, and very old fashioned.  i dont care.  go read somewhere else.

our hearts are designed to need these things.  we need a calling to drive us.  battles, not only to fight, but to fight beside our fellow man, and develop friendships in the trenches.

we’re born with the need for someone to fight for.

and when this need, this missing piece of our existence is not completed… when we’re not shown how to fight, how to war, how to be a man… when the crucial stages are missed… we end up…. we end up 27, feeling like we’re much much younger.

im reading the new book from John Eldridge, The Way of the Wild Heart.  and in it… he mentions how the world is full of “self made men”.  he talks about how this phrase is supposed to make us men, feel better about ourselves… about who we’ve become.

in reality, if you ask any ‘self made man’ how he feels about that statement… if he answers you honestly, he’ll tell you it simply means that he was never shown how to be a man.  and somehow, he was lucky enough to stumble across a part of the answer.

i dont know if there is pride attached to that title.  because im learning its not something to be proud of.

when you’re not shown how to to this, when you aren’t handed the history of manhood… when you’re chance at growing up the same way that, for millenia, boys have become men, something in you breaks.

and even though your age declares you a man.  even though you can talk ‘car talk’, and you go to work every day… even though you act and dress the part… something inside of you never moves beyond that moment.  that moment that you realize you dont have what other kids received.  you were never encouraged, never told to dream, never told that you could be president or an astonaut.  you were always told you weren’t good enough.  didnt look good enough, didnt weigh the right amount.  you were the source of problems, and never a source of blessing…

when you grow up knowing that, something inside dies.  and without knowing anything more to do, you let it die.  and you deal.

you become excellent at dealing.  at adapting.  at finding your own little world, that you can control, and living in it.

and somehow you wake up one morning, and your 27, and you realize that a part of you…. isnt.  this part of you is still yearning, longing for the edification and support, for the love, guidance and leadership that your father was supposed to have given you.

where do you go with that?  who do you take that too and say, “this isnt right, fix it”.  what do you do with the realization that in all the things you want, in all the issues one may have in life, in all the heartache that exists inside of your soul, all you want is memories?  memories of playing catch.  of learning how to talk to girls.  memories of hiking, changing the oil, of being a son.

wow… thats it. and i didnt even realize it.

all i wanted, was memories of being a son.

life changes. and no matter what we think, say or do, it wont ever stop changing.

there are times when we find ourselves looking for undivided honesty. for trust. for some of us, we’re simply trying to learn to trust again.

some of us, need to learn to surrender, all over again.

and, in that… in that surrender…

hope comes. it has to. life isnt worth living without it.

joy must come. it has to.

peace will come.

it has to.

we are wired differently. we are. and by we, i mean men.

we’re wired with, created to have this need. this need for ‘announcement’. or more precisely, knighthood. we are wired with a need to be knighted. to have a moment in time when things suddenly make sense.

a moment when when the equations being played out in the seemingly eradic, painful and confusing circumstances of our lives give forth an answer. suddenly the questions swirling at our feet clear, and we see the answer. we see the ‘otherness’ of what was happening. we see, for the very first time; ourselves.

the way boys have been raised varied little for generations. for thousands of years, a boy would follow in his fathers footsteps. as his father had done before him, and his grandfather before him, and so on.

he would grow and learn the trade of his father. at times he may have hated it. may have hated the clashes they would inevitably have. but it was during those times that this boy was being forged into the man he was to become.

and this boy would have a moment. the mist would clear…. his father would say or do something very specific… and suddenly, this child, knew he was no longer a child. he had been knighted. even if he was a farmer. he was no longer known as the son of farmer so and so… he now had his own, fully matured identity.

milestones. he passed his. what would probably be the first of many. and his life was never the same.

men are wired to need these moments, many of them.

throughout life we were DESTINED to have these moments. moments when the older generation validates us, validate our existence at a higher level… it was these very moments that kept us going. that birthed in us the desire to steady ourselves on this new level, and immediately begin striving for the next one.

it was these moments that gave us hope.

and i know, some have said that in the place of this father-figure, God steps in. and that is a wonderful thought. it is. its warm, and fuzzy, and full of flowers and butterflies and bunny rabbits. and in an existential way, its absolutely true.

but tell the 28 year old who just burried his wife, that in the gaping absence of the woman he was destined to spend his life with, God will be his wife.

it doesn’t hold water. because he was destined to be her husband. and no amount of nice thoughts will ever change that.

there were moments in his life that only his wife could bring about. moments where he was validated, where she knighted him. where he found a new level, and because of her love, he began to push for the next one.

and there were moments where he encouraged her. where he birthed in her the ability to see the next level, and the desire to reach it.

there were moments in their lives that they could only see with each other. the first date. the first kiss… the engagement, wedding and the first night together… each of these moments came as answers to the bigger equation of life. and they could have only come because they were not alone. they had each other.

and now that she’s gone, God cannot fill that void. He cant.

yes, He will bring healing, and peace in the midst of this storm… but He never desired to ‘replace’ someone.

Christ Himself was born of this earth. and even though joseph is hardly mentioned, Christ was born with a father. He was created and birthed the same way i was…. and dare i say it, he was created with the same needs for a father, as i have.

so where does this leave me? how do i draw this to a close? where, in my heart, was this coming from?

its simple really.  im twenty seven, and i dont ‘feel’ like it. ive not felt my age in 6 years. i know, it sounds weird, but its one of the few secrets ive never told anyone. its like a part of me died. or, in all reality, its like a part of me forgot how to live.

honestly, i dont know how to end tonight.  typically, i try to come up with a way to tie things together, to bring my thoughts to a semi-cohesive closing statement.

i dont have one.

im hiding. i know i am.

sarah leaves in less than 2 months and im doing my darnedest to ignore it. to pretend its not happening. to pretend that one morning, very soon, i wont wake up to see a starbucks apron in the hallway.

im pretending that she’ll still be here. ill still get to pick on her. and i will still need to come home with three boquets when i bring home flowers.

she’s moving. she’s following her hope. she’s being brave. and shes following her dreams.

she’s leaving. and as good as following her heart is, i dont want her to go.

it seems like just yesterday i was coming home, here, texas. to be with them. to be a family. to live under the same roof. again.

and i know, life goes on. people grow, and change, and the brave ones… follow their dreams.

part of me knows that this is going to be good for her. that is is going to be for her, the next step into the awesome plan that God has for her life.

but the overprotective big brother in me doesnt want her to leave. that part of me knows i cant be ‘there’ for her. i wont be close by. car trouble, computer issues… guy problems. i want to be there for those. i do.

and i know, this is God asking me to lay her (both of them actually) down. to trust Him to care for her. and to rest in the knowing that she is safe in His arms…..

i know, i probably dont show it anywhere near as much as i should. but i love sarah, and beth more than life itself. and there isnt anything that i wouldnt do for them.

i still pray the 31st proverb over each of them.

and i will always be their big brother.

but times change. and they need to. and people grow, they need to. and the brave ones, follow their dreams.

so sarah, you have my blessing, my encouragement, and my hope…

be brave. follow your dreams.

i dont tell people when something they’ve done has hurt me. i dont. i keep it to myself. i dont speak up. i push it inside and try and forget about it. i put on the brave face and just tough through it.

and maybe, when im alone… ill deal with it. maybe not.

maybe its because i have this uncanny knack to simply talk myself out of ever bringing it up with said person.

maybe its because i was brought up with the knowledge that anything that happened to me, any freakin thing was something i should be thankful for.

i was never allowed to cry. or show any emotion outside of what i was told to show.

heck, that was my entire life. i was always ‘on show’. we had to dress the part of the happy christian family. we had to look like a nuclear family. we had to show we loved each other. even when, at times… we didnt.

we were never ever allowed to speak up. or quesiton. or argue. it was my dads way, or my dads punishment.

i hated him. i hate him.

i hate him for what he did to my sisters. i hate him for how he treated, or didnt treat, my mom. my mom is a freakin princess and he treated her like trash.

and i hate him the most for what he wasnt.

for the fact that im 27 and i dont know how to be who im supposed to be. how i dont have memories in my life to look back on and be “oh, THATS how im supposed to handle that situation”. i dont have a history i want to remember. i dont have a namsake i want to carry on.

i dont have a father.

and i never did

i know, you can say ‘grow the heck up pj’. and you’re right. you are. i cant sit here and allow my past to dictate my future. i cant let my life be controlled by things i wasnt able to change, back then. im responsible, ultimately, for my own destiny. i am.

and im trying. probably not enough. heck, i know its not enough. i know i hide behind my pain. i know i use it now more as a defence, as a… weakness to lean on. its become a part of who i am… and no longer something im fighting against.

part of me wants to live free. wants to drop this weight. wants to be able to look at a pretty girl and ask her out. and not see, or think about… how much pain could have been avoided had my father simply not asked my mother out.

can you belive this? im 27. i cant believe it.

when i was 20, i wanted to be married by now. i did.

i still do.

you know, ive written all of this. all of this crap that ive carried around for so long. knowing full well that there are moments where i almost lose it. moments where you’d never think you’d see a grown man cry. moments when, maybe my boss offered a bit of praise. or, a hug from a pastor.

ive written all this, knowing what was lost… and i know im only scratching the surface. i know there is more. why? because i compartmentalize. because i dont deal with stuff. i’ve never dealt with stuff. i was never shown how to deal. i was just expected to swallow it and move the hell on.

ive written all this. and ive not even shed a tear. someone i care for deeply, once sent me a text message. she said that she wondered if hear tear ducts had forgotten how to cry. im beginning to wonder that myself.

ive written all of this. and yeah, maybe it is only scratching the surface…. maybe there is more scratching to go. maybe this is barely a dent on what it will take….

but i cant quit.

i may end up having to rebuild the entirety of the foundations i never had… but i cant quit.

there are pretty girls out there. there are dates worth being on. there is a hope of me living life. without fear. without wondering if ill repeat the screwups of my father.

i may be scratching the surface, but at least underneath… im still alive.