my week

So I'm sitting at my desk, Flogging Molly ringing in my ears, a cup of reheated coffee next to me and two boys peacefully sleeping.

IT'S SUNDAY!  A day of rest, of peace, of sitting down and vegging in front of the TV, or napping, or watching football, or just finding that thing that refills your soul enough to want to start over on Monday.

So, I'm sitting here asking, "what happened this week? What did I learn? It feels like I blinked and a week passed!"

So to my online diary I turned... Facebook, twitter, instagram.
Here's some of the notes, in no particular order.

Monday: 

Came home to Zi wanting to wrestle. There is simply nothing like wrestling with a 2 year old, the giggles, flips, accidental kicks to places that shouldn't be kicked, tickles and exhausted hugs. These moments are some of the sweetest in life. As I think about the last week I'm reminded that to this little boy I am the ultimate model of manhood, fatherhood, being a husband, and who God is. It's wild to think that in the last 7 days I have intentionally or unintentionally taught my son through my words, actions and non-verbels what each of these mean.  Does he know today better then he did last Sunday what love, grace, peace, commitment, selflessness, and sacrifice is? Does he know a little better today then last week how to care, listen, value, prioritize? It's humbling to think that these lessons rest primarily on me.

Tuesday: 

Tuesday's are meeting days. They start at 9:30 and go back to back until 4:30. We meet over lunch, we meet while in the bathroom (no joke), we meet while walking to the next meeting. Tuesdays are the one day in the week that all the LCBC staff are together, the only day all the student min team is together. So any and all face-to-face conversations that need to happen, have to happen that day, or your driving. This week I was reminded that people can change. I hate to admit it but I've held a grudge. I've put people in a box and said that is how they will always be and treated them with resentment and distrust, yes I may work at a church but we're still people and we're people who fight passionately about what we believe in and sometimes that means stepping on each others toes and hurting feelings. I've realized that I have unfairly boxed one person into a corner. But last Tuesday was a huge reminder for me that God is not done with us. That he changes people, he still is changing me, and that if I'll join him instead of fighting him he really can restore broken relationships. I'm humbled and excited by what God is doing not only in the LCBC church and community but also what he's doing among those of us on staff. Thankful for the amazing folks I work with, and for how God never gives up on us.

Wednesday: 

Reminded that I love to teach. There's something about crafting words and statements that move emotions and actions. I love when a statement inspires and when something sacred happens and human words are married to a sacred romance and God stirs hearts and minds to take the next step with him. This year will be the 10th year that I've been teaching in a church setting. Many of those years were filled with insecurity and doubt. Wondering if I was worth listening to, if I could really hack it as a teacher, if I was too big of a personal screw up to do this. I'm reminded that God loves to use us in his plans, not the perfect us but the willing us. That I never had to be perfect but willing, that I didn't have to be famous, just faithful.

Thursday: 

Reminded to celebrate the small things in life. Fall is a time of year when life seems to restart for me. I've always loved the fall, the leaves, the cooler air, the anticipation of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Fall causes my heart to warm up. But when I think about it, there's nothing "major" about the fall, it's not "just" the leaves, or "just" the cooler air, or "just" the fact we're a month closer to the holiday's, it's all the small things that make a big change in my mood. The small things like Fall coffee and pulling out cooler clothes. It's silly how small things can make such big differences. I'm guilty of looking for only the big things in life and not stopping to notice the million small things that make the days better.

Friday:

Friday is the day for me to watch both of the boys while Pearl works. I love my boys, but watching both of them by myself all day, usually just freaks me out and scares me to death. What if they poop? What if they start screaming? What if they tag team like a bunch of deadly ninja babies and cry and scream and poop and puke at the same time? It's like crossing the beams in Ghostbusters, I just don't know if I can handle it! So, like a wise dad, the first couple of weeks I just tried to sedate us with TV and food and pray we could all sleep till Momma returned to then help us venture out of the confines of the living room and our pajamas. This doesn't make me exactly father of the year, but it was success in my eyes for us to survive 8 hours with out momma and still have two living, breathing, relatively unscarred boys. But this week a friend asked if I wanted to join him and his son at the local fair to explore the animals, tractors and food. That meant actually leaving the house! Getting dressed! Remembering to pack diapers! This was a big deal, it was scary, but I took a chance, made plans, and successfully managed to get the boys dressed, feed, out the door, through the fair, back to the car, and tucked into their naps (in their carseat). I'm reminded that I (we) often let fear, or feeling overwhelmed, or under skilled to keep us from actually try. Babies have always scared me, they're not "natural" to me, but I'm learning to make plans and invite them along and not be stuck to fear worn ruts.

Saturday:

It started all smiles. A simple run. I had a running buddy, we were gonna do this little "jog" together. It ended like this.

Alone, every muscle in my body cramping, cold flashes causing me to think I would pass out at any step, seriously wondering if I would ever walk again with out a searing pain in my hip.

Funny thing is, I'd do it again.

Saturday I was able to check something off my bucket list, running a half marathon. I've always wanted to say I ran one, now I can, now I can get lots of those 13.1 stickers and plaster them all over my car, my house, my office, and also my thunder thighs as bandaids where 3rd degree friction burns have occurred.

Saturday taught me a few things, like:
- protect your nipples at all cost.
- have younger folks around you to keep you energized
- yet also, older folks to keep you from hurting the younger ones when they make you furious at their "boundless" energy and you want to punch them, but also to remind you how to run the best race possible.
- to find ways to celebrate the small victories, like race day selfies at each mile.
- that we actually need folks we can be honest with along the way, like texting family and saying your final goodbyes, and having them tell you to suck it up and keep going.
- it's a waste of energy to worry about who's beating you or who you're beating. And just because an 87 year old woman with an amputated leg is out sprinting you doesn't mean anything, just run your race.
- It really doesn't matter who you're beating, finishing your race is all that we're really asked to do.

Since I woke up from my "maybe if I sleep I won't throw up nap" yesterday I've been thinking about a guy name Paul who wrote to a young leader named Timothy in the Bible. Paul said,

"I have fought a good fight, I have finished the race, I have keep the faith." (2 Tim. 4:7)

Yesterday wasn't the prettiest of races. Old ladies out ran me, Amish men in their boots passed me, dad's pushing strollers with quadruplets hanging off rolled by like a breeze.

For most of my life I felt like I had to look better then those around me, I had to be "better" whether that meant being smarter, faster, more attractive or creative, but yesterday reminded me that when we look at life as a whole we're all just a bunch of nasty, sweaty, smelly runners with raw nipples and flaming thunder thighs that are each pushing towards the finish line and hoping to be able to stay I fought the good fight and I finished the race, I didn't give up and I kept the faith.

So as you rest today, I hope you're reminded that: 
- you matter in profound ways to your family
- people can change
- you've got something unique to bring to this world so don't chicken out to insecurities 
- celebrate the small things in life
- don't let your fears paralyze you
- and keep running your race and don't worry about those around you (cause their nipples hurt too!)

Happy Sunday, and I think you're amazing.
Matt

The unspeakables of a new dad.

Last night as Pearl and I photographed a wedding we found ourselves in a moment of small talk with a couple who were expecting their first child in a few months and upon hearing we had a 2 year old and a 2 month old were eager to talk "baby" with us. This happened during a lull in photographing so we were eager to talk "baby" with them.

We talked about nursing, life being pregnant and life lived with someone pregnant, and a slew of other things. But at one point in the conversation I said something and to my surprise this soon to be dad looked at me with awe and said "I've never heard that before."

So here are a few honest moments for soon to be dads, that you may have never heard before. [Disclaimer, I love both my sons and wife more then life itself, this is just a little honesty of life.]

In no particular order... a few things:

- You'll learn when in an argument with a pregnant women there is nothing worth being "right" if it means telling her she's "wrong."

- You'll find yourself faking "sleep" just to see if she moves first when you hear crying in the middle of the night.

- You'll use your baby as an excuse to say no to invites you simply didn't want to go to.

- You'll form a love hate relationships with cartoons

- You'll look forward to telling poop stories, in a weird gross yet proud sort of way.

- You'll be oddly proud of the distance your little guy pees in the middle of changing his diaper

- You'll find yourself loving the meals your friends made for you yet wishing they just didn't stay while you ate them.

- You'll pay for baby photos just to have someone else care for your baby for 2 hours.

- You'll use the "we have a new born" excuse for things that your newborn had no effect on.

- You'll rediscover an old love for fruit gummies and gold fish.

But there are somethings I wish someone had given me a heads up on before being a dad.
-Like you might feel like a failure for the first 18 months of your kid's life. I sure did, Zi wanted his Mom for everything, she was one stop shopping for him; Food, comfort, sleep, all I did was change his diaper.  I felt like my relationship was more out of obligation then connection. I felt he didn't even know I existed until 18 months. 

-And this is related but the "instant bond" of love everyone talks about having with their kid isn't there for everyone, so don't feel bad about that. I loved both my sons before they were born, I was committed to them, but I didn't feel like Cupid shot me in the heart with either of them, there was excitement at both of their births, like a really big Christmas gift finally being open, but then you realize this gift is not really for you for another 18 months, and in fact kind of just makes life difficult. For me over time the super gushy love has come, but it wasn't there at first. 

- The first week is seriously hell, just prepare for it. I don't know a better way to say it, in all the "we just had a baby" excitement the "I haven't slept for more then 3 hours in a row for the last 7 days" exhaustion changes your perspective on everything. If there was a refund option we would have considered using it during the first week. 

- Company is a blessing and a curse. The blessing is they bring you food, the curse is when they stay and visit. All you're thinking about is I could be sleeping right now, and at this moment I like sleep more then I like you.

- You start to feel like your wife is cheating on you.  My wife's affection, touch, and cuddle quota went 100% to this new little life and I was left feeling shafted, jealous and angry! When the reality that you didn't have sex the last trimester, meets the even harsher reality of "I haven't slept for more then then 3 hours in a row and you're wanting what" mood killer, some pretty crazy things can enter your head. 

- Also, around this point you start to come to grasp with who you are on little to no sleep, sex, and solitude and you realize what a truly horrible person you are. So in the midst of "enjoying your new bundle of joy" you're also growing to hate yourself. 

- And while this is all happening everything you read informs you that literally anything and everything could potentially harm, mane, or kill your baby, so add being paranoid to your list of emotions. 

All that to say, starting a family is really fun, but having a family can be pretty tough. Even though I have thought each of those thoughts I can honestly say that even in the midst of the crazy my family makes my life better, me better, and they are making my marriage better. 

As I finish this post, Indie, our 2 month old, is strapped to my chest. He just finished screaming and is now peacefully hanging out looking at me. Zi, our 2 year old, has finally stopped fighting his naps with screams and exhausted wondering tantrums around the house and has crashed on the couch snoring. These two boys have totally changed my existence, my marriage, my life, but I'm so thankful they did. Love them and the craziness that comes after them. 

Happy Sunday, 
Matt

A note for my son about honesty.

I stole an idea from a friend I work with. Each month, on the dates each of his children were born, he writes to them in a journal.

So Zion has a journal with about 30-ish posts in it, and Indie now has a whopping 3 entries. My hope is that one day they can read back through these and have a memoir of their lives. Funny things they were doing, different development milestones they hit, but most importantly hundreds of pages of insights on life from their dad. I'm not saying I'm some guru, but I have learned a few things. And, if I can help my boys avoid what I learned through pain, they'll be a little wiser and farther along then I was at their age.

So today I wrote for Indie (a few days late).

I shared with his future self that he's now more alert, opening his eyes more, starting to recognize his mom and I, and that he'll sneak a perfect, heart melting smile out every now and then.

I also shared about something I've been processing lately.

ARE WE REALLY HONEST?

Here's what I wrote him:

"Are we honest? I hope your mom and I teach you not to lie, but there's a big gap between a lie and honesty. There's the grey of not fully explaining, fully revealing, fully expressing, that lowers the reaction of the one listening or basically manipulates the other to get the desired outcome you want. Now, there's wisdom in persuasion and timing, but don't mistake those virtues for honesty. There will come a time you have to make sure that honesty really happens. Don't allow persuasion to win out over honesty in your friendships, your marriage, your family, and your work. All of those areas matter too much! Be a man of character and integrity and just be honest. Pray like crazy about the situation, search your life for your own faults, and then speak the truth, trusting that God will be in the outcome" 

I've been thinking about this because I'm realizing there are a few relationships from over the years that I've valued persuasion over honesty in. I've cared more about not upsetting them, or me feeling dumb, or not wanting to change myself, then I have about how truthful my words really were. One of these relationships God has been challenging me on lately, that's a nice way of saying he's forced me to face it, to face how I've wimped out, and to either choose to grow up and be a man of character or to take the low road and slither away.

THIS SUCKS!

This causes every insecurity in me to scream, this causes the hours of prideful speeches in my head of how right I am and how I'm doing the "right thing" to all over a sudden be a massive waste of time, this also hurts my pride because I'm having to face up to the fact that I chickened out when the time for truth came.

Here's some things I'm learning along this process:

Have I REALLY prayed about this?
I'm a master at a passing flippant prayer of "God help them, cause they need it!" But a friend asked if I had honestly prayed "Jesus I want you to do what's best here for them, for all involved, I want their life to be the best it can be and help me to help your best for them happen, and let me know where I'm not helping you!" It's hard for me to admit that at times I'm hurting more then helping, and that I care more about me being right in a situation then the person in the situation.

Have I REALLY tried to like them?
If I don't think you like me, care for me, it's incredibly easy for me to dismiss anything you say, no matter how honest it might be. Jesus wasn't an idiot when he said "love your enemies." When love enters the conversation, the conversation changes.

Have I REALLY been honest with myself?  
I have to own my insecurities, my baggage, my misperceptions, my jealously, my selfishness cause if I don't and try to be "honest" then all I've done is exposed my true self and lost any change at influence. I hate having to admit just how extremely insecure, jealous and selfish I am!

Have I REALLY been honest with them? 
Many times I've said I've shared with them, told them, lectured them. When really I've just hinted or alluded to a general direction of thought in the hope that some Jedi mind trick miracle will occur and they magical understand exactly what my fragmented encrypted thought meant.  I'm realizing that communication is a two way thing and that unless they "understand" what I'm saying, I haven't achieved honesty yet.

The relationships we have and the work we get to do are too important and too fragile for us to not do the hard work to be honest.

I hope you guys are wiser then I have been and that you choose to be honest with the small things before you're faced with having to choose to be honest when the big things and the stakes have become higher and scarier.

Happy Saturday.
Matt

My week...

My week:
Monday - interviewed about sex education for students
Tuesday - interviewed young lady about cutting and her story of self harm, she still cuts and harms herself.
Wednesday - shared a meal with a student who is wondering if his mom is cheating on his dad
Thursday - Had a 7th grade boy share with me he wishes he was a girl, talked with a couple who have separated and want a divorce

That's my week... how's yours? I hope yours was as awesome as mine! Seriously, this week has been awesome.

Why?

Because I feel like I've had the gift of honest people being honest with me. People who were willing to be open, raw, real. Who didn't hide their crap and want to pretend like they where perfect. But who honestly admitted "I'm messy! & deal with it."

What I love about the Church, when it's working right, is that messy lives:
- don't startle the Church but inspire it
- aren't hidden but celebrated
- aren't excluded but told they belong

I've been thinking a lot this week about the story of Ananias and his wife Sapphira that's recorded in the Bible in Acts 5.

The gist of the story is the Church was just starting and the couple sold some land and wanted to give some of the money to help the church grow. But instead of telling the church they were only giving a portion from the sale, they puffed up and said they were giving all the money from the sale to the church. At this confession both of them die.

I wonder if this bazaar story is in the Bible because as God was just starting the church he wanted to clearly communicate honesty is what matters most in the Church.

Honesty that says you don't have any need to present yourself better, more put together, more refined, more controlled, or more "with it" then you really are.

That the only accepted behavior is honest behavior, the real you.

The stories of my week were honest, real, and not reserved. They came from people admitting they don't have it all together.

The beauty of the Church to me, is I get to say I'm just as messed up as you, just in a different way, but this place, this place of brick and mortar is actually a place of flesh and blood and these people, all these people, are just as messed up as you feel you are, each in a different way, but each in a real way.

I wonder if the church stops being the church when the people in the church stop remembering they are each messed up and in need a someone to say they are loved no matter what by Jesus, and that with his love are able to live lives, lives marked with grace, joy, peace, patience, etc.

So happy Thursday, and enjoy the freedom of knowing you don't have to have your stuff all together.

Happy messed up Thursday.
Matt


 - How have you seen the Church get this right?
 - How have you seen it miss this?

Sex Ed., Coffee shops, and ....

(***Warning this post is not for the innocent, naive, or those who couldn't stop laughing in sex class in middle school... honest adult conversation about to happen... or should I say did happen***) 


Ok, now that you've been warned about this post, today I had a rather embarrassing moment.

A couple of months ago I got a generic request from one of my bosses asking me to take his place at a meeting. The meeting was with a local non-profit interviewing churches about how they develop their teaching content.

I said sure, shot an email, and then promotly forgot about it.

So when an email arrived in my inbox from a SEX EDUCATION company to say I was caught off guard was an understatement, and as I was about to email I.T. to ask what was wrong with our filter, I realized I was actually suppose to be getting this email.

And to add to the awkwardness and confusion of this moment, I was in the middle of a crowded conference for church leaders, sitting next to two of my female co-workers, with an email about Sex Ed in big bold letters on my phone.  I tried to sheepishly read/reply/delete the email all the while feeling like a middle school boy just wanting to bust out laughing.

Realizing the email was for real and that I had already agreed to a meeting and to make matters worst had agreed to meeting in a local coffee shop, the reality that I was about to relive the worse days of Biology class landing on me like a lead balloon, I laughed, I cried, I decided I was gonna make the most of it. And I waited for today to arrive.

Coffee shops are normally a comfort for me and I was hoping that maybe this one would be extra comfortable during an extra awkward conversation.

But, I forgot two things, two really important things about coffee shops and me.

1 - Coffee houses have other people in them, like lots of people, other people who sit close, and who have ears!

2 - And coffee makes me hyper, and when I'm hyper and nervous, I talk... uncontrollably... a lot... and loud.

So yeah, you're starting to picture how this little Sex Ed class reunion happened.

I walked into one of my favorite coffee shops and of course the place is packed to the gills. Mom's are holding toddlers, home school girls are typing on their laptops, Amish ladies are crocheting in the corner (ok, that's not true, but it felt like it!) and the folks I'm meeting with didn't pick the table off in the corner, or around the side, or tucked next to the bathroom that no one actually likes sitting near.

No, they picked the FAMILY TABLE IN THE FLIPPING CENTER OF THE ROOM, NEXT TO THE COUNTER, RIGHT WHERE EVERYONE WALKS IN AND WAITS!

Try having a conversation about sex with strangers.
Try having that conversation about sex in a public place.
Try having that conversation while totally jacked on caffeine and forgetting your surroundings, and your tone, and your volume, and your subject!

Yeah, that was my day, you're picturing it about right.

Nothing like getting really passionate, really loud, and really antimated and declaring to the whole coffee shop that "SEX IS AMAZING." Or later when the interviewer asked what vocabulary is best used to describe anatomy, getting on a soap box about how a.... well, I'll save that conversation for another time.

So, yeah, I have never been checked out by so many people at one moment in my life.

So, I hope you had a wonderful day, I hope you loved the work you got to be a part of, I hope you found passion and excitement in being a part of that.  I sure did today, I just hope you also remembered to talk a little quieter then I did.

Happy Monday!
Matt

Past. Present. Purpose and a raccoon named Rocky

Zi is in a stage where monsters are very real to him. He fears them and he looks for them. More then once he's came running in from a different room scared due to "monsters" of some sort.

Luckily, usually when mommy or daddy turns on a light and proves all is right, he acts like nothing happened and looks at us like we're actually the crazy ones scared of so called monsters.

Well, today at nap time he was nervous of monsters in his room. We looked together, we vanquished them, he bravely climbed in bed and then as I tucked him in he sheepishly asked for "Rocky" 

Now Rocky is from my past. 

He is super special.

He was my comfort as a kid and anyone who remembers me before I was 6 knows that Rocky and I were bff's. Rocky is a raccoon. His ears are chewed, his color has long faded. and his fur has the remains of boyhood still crusted in them. But Rocky is family. And Rocky now lives in Zion's room. 

Like most of our past, it somehow or another eventual finds a way of becoming the present for our loved ones. 

The stuffed animal that was my comfort, my special, is the one Zi now reaches for when he needs more comfort / protection / bravery then his current Tiger can give. 

My past now directly shapes his present. 

But not only does my past toys effect his present so do my past: 

- choices

- wins

- losses

- adventures I conquered

- adventures I totally wimped out on

- good habits formed 

- And destructive habits / responses / coping learned along the way.  

My past shapes his present. 

I use to think I needed to shield him from the destructive moments of my past, from the parts of my past that I'm not particularly fond of, the past that I'm not quick to share. 

But I wonder if when my past meets my present if it's really all about the purpose I put around it. 

I can't change it, but I can redefine it, I can turn a mistake into a make better moment, a regret into a redirect, a stumble into a stronger. 

Rocky is not just an old piece of decoration or toy from my past, in my present it's redefined with a purpose that gives my son courage to bravely take a nap by himself. 

I don't want my past to just be stories we share along our present journey but stories infused with purpose that launch my sons farther then I was, am, and will be. 

Happy past present and purposeful Saturday. 

Matt 

The awful wonderful

Yesterday I was able to catch a few minutes with an old friend. We discussed life, updating each other on the small things and just spent time talking and laughing. It was time well spent.

He asked about how life with 2 kids was, I asked about life with no kids. We laughed, we shared. He then slipped that they were trying for kids themselves and the goalie was out of the game (side note, He'll be an awesome dad so I'm super excited for him).

After that little commit we spent the rest of the night talking about what it's like to be a dad, to adjust from being a family of 2, to a family of 3, to a family of 4.

He asked questions, I shared, I asked him questions, he shared. It was a good night.

Looking back on the conversations I felt the term "An Awful Wonderful" was in some weird way the theme of the night.

I shared how at any moment kids are just plain awful, and if you think I'm awful for saying that, well you're obviously not a parent.

They're awful when crying at 3 in the morning, or licking poo, or putting $10 of postage on themselves, and that was just what happened in the last 24 hours in our house. Much less the consent production of poop, the whining, the crying, oh the crying, the tantrums, the messes, the soul piercing toys that are invisible until your barefoot discovers them square on a nerve.

Kids can be just awful, lets just be honest.

They totally jack your sleep, your marriage, your free time, your sex (nothing like the fear of a 2 year old walking in to totally kill the moment), your sleep, your sleep, your sleep, did I clearly communicate sleep?

They take over your calendar, your car, your dining options at home and your dining options out.

These tiny innocent little humans have a way of living huge influential lives before they can even hold their heads up!

But oddly, as awful as some of these moment are, kids are also wonderful.

There's something about walking in the door and hearing tiny feet pattering across the hardwood shouting "daddy!". There's no invitation like the invitation to "wrestle me" or "tickle me" or as Zi says "eat me!" There's nothing like the full weight of an exhausted head tucked into your neck or a tiny hand holding your finger as you cross the street. Or the moment of excitement when a small bit of information makes more sense today then it did the day before.

Kids are awful and yet also wonderful.

They're an awful wonderful.

If we're honest, a lot of life can be like that

An awful wonderful....
- first year of marriage.
- any year of marriage.
- job
- friendships
- family
- house

Almost anything we encounter in life has the potential to be an Awful Wonderful.

As I look back on my marriage, I'd say it's wonderful. I flipping love my wife! She's my best friend, she's wonderful, but theres days she's awful, and we all know the same can be said about me.

When I look at my career, I love what I do, my job is beyond fulfilling, meaningful, and wonderful but there's seasons, days, moments that it's just awful. I once had to clean goat poop out of a stairwell because there was a "creative idea" involving a goat!

The same is true for my health, it's wonderful, until I think back to what it actually felt like to be running.

I love the fact I have a masters degree, but there were beyond awful papers and projects to get through.

These are only a few awful wonderfuls of life, the list could go one.

But every time I've chosen to work through the awful I eventually discover the wonderful.

A momentary awful seems to always eventually give way to a long term wonderful. It just takes some digging in, pushing through, and not wimping out.

But there's also moments of "Wonderful Awfuls."

Moments that what's offered, mentioned, dangled in front of us that looks simply wonderful. A "greener grass" that appears like a wonderful relationship, job, idea... a greener "wonderful" that when actually explored turns out to be a cheap ticket to an awful reality.

I've watched friends give up on marriages for "wonderful" relationships, just to discover an awful one.

Or pursue a "wonderful" career opportunities to only see that it put an awful stress on their family.

Or a hundred number of "wonderful" short wins for pleasure, prestige, or power only to quickly discover a trap door into the awful.

I know the awful days in my marriage prepared me to fully appreciate the wonderful ones.

The awful nights of crying tantrums make the wonderful moments of wrestling and cuddles more profound.

The awful long days of mind numbing tasks make the wonderful moments of seeing it "work" worth it.

So, don't miss the wonderful because of a momentary awful.

Keep going, keep working, keep committing, keep choosing to go another step, another day because eventually the awful wonderful is worth every struggle along the way.

Happy "awful wonderful" Friday.
Matt

Running in super short silky shorts.

I've always wanted to be a runner.

In High School I ran Cross Country, but I weighed 215 lbs. and looked more like a linebacker, a linebacker who happened to be in super short silky shorts and really tiny shoes.... it's just not a pretty mental picture.

But I loved it, short shorts and all.

After graduation I found the freshmen 15, and also it's buddies the sophomore 30 and junior 45, and now after 9 years of marriage and desk work I'm not exactly the ideal body shape for running.

But I've had a dream. A really stupid dream if I'm honest.

A dream of running a marathon.

Why? Mostly pride and vanity but let's be honest, those are by far not the worst sins in my life, so I'm not too worried right now. For some reason I've just always wanted to say I ran one, like some people have always wanted to say they went sky diving, or drove the Autobahn, or ate the 64oz stake, we've all got dreams!

I mentioned this a few months ago in a talk I giving to some high schoolers.

The next thing I knew one of those High schoolers, who just so happens to by a stick-thin-hyperactive-gazelle of a kid had me talked into doing a half marathon with him.

So now I'm training. Tonight was a longer run, in fact it tied for the longest run of my life!

Let's just say things bounced tonight that were not meant to bounce, my nipples feel like they lost a Cage fight to a cheese grater, my thighs at one point could have starts a small fire if I sat down and I'm not sure I can feel my toes yet. And it also didn't help that I flew like superman due to tripping on a bump on our sidewalk, a block from my house (Sorry neighbors for the blood stain in front of your house).

But all that to say the run wasn't fast, it wasn't pretty, it's not getting an award or being aired on a National TV show, but I started and I finished. And I'm proud of it dang it!

While running I talked to my dad, well listened mainly between gasp of air.

We caught up on life, how he's doing, how his elderly parents are doing, how he and his siblings are handling working with hospice and the fears and tensions that come from approaching the passing of a loved one.

We talked about my marriage and the new fears and tensions that come from managing life with a 2 year old and a 2 month old. The dumb words said out of exhaustion and the fears of having money to feed them, you know normal dad fears.

As well as the changing dynamics at play in loving your spouse as their world and the demands on their energy radically shifts with kids.

We talked about work and how some days you love everything about it and other days you... well simply don't love much about it.

We talked about his heath and new limitations from his double lung transplant and what life looks like with a chain attached called "medical restrictions."  And the acceptance of dreams lost and the frustration of finding new ones.

We talked for a long time.

He shared honestly, I shared honestly, I was reminded of what a good dad I have, a dad I'm really proud of and respect, a dad that I'm thankful to have in my life.

But as I listened and shared it dawn on me, Life's not pretty. Life's not fast and furious (that's just a movie and it's over in 90 minutes), life often does not give away awards and not many of us will have a national TV show telling our story.

Most of us will simply start.

And most of us will simply finish.

What matters is if we will say we were proud of it along the way.

So my run wasn't amazing, it was rather slow and unimpressive, but for me I was proud of it.

My life may be like that as well.

It may not be amazing by the standards of TIME Magazine or NBC, it may feel like some moments could not be any slower as babies cry and debts slowly go down.

My accomplishments may be considered unimpressive when viewed in light of the history of the world.

But for me, for my boys, for my wife, for my community, for my church, for my God I'm still putting one foot in front of the next, not stopping, not giving up, not wimping out and I'll when my messy, unamazing, slow, unimpressive life crosses the finish line of life I'll be delighted (and probably a little proud too) to hear "well done, good and faithful."

Happy Tuesday... keep running, it's worth it.

me and my pills...

This weekend as I was about to get my cup of coffee I asked the lady behind me if I could get her a cup as well.

And with the naturalness of breathing she simply shared, "no thanks, caffeine messes with my anxiety so I've learned to avoid it."

Simple, straight forward, nothing awkward, but BAM there it was, a confession, "I have anxiety."

Anyone who knows me knows, I love talking with people. So at this simple sentence we started a conversation. She shared about how she discovered she had anxiety, about talking with the doctors, I shared how anxiety is a part of my family's story, we swapped professionals worth talking to and the annoyance of people who avoid these topics like they're contagious thinking they might "catch Anxiety or depression themselves."

A 2 minute conversation around a coffee pot.... wonderfully refilling.

So the thought that's been with me at the start of this week is, "why are we so hidden with what's happening in us?"

Confession: I take meds for high blood pressure and high cholesterol. Been on pills since I was 23, been on pills when I was 70 pounds over weight, was still on pills when I was lost all that weight. On pills when life was stressful, on pills when life was calm and gentle. My blood's just high strung, nothing I can do about it, well except ignore it and die at the ripe-not-so-old-age of 45. So because I love my family, life, and work I gladly pop 2 pills a morning.

But way is there such a stigma around mental conditions, why do diagnosis like anxiety, depression, Bipolar, panic disorder, phobias, ADHD, and eating disorders carry for many a cloud of shame, isolation, avoidance?

If my leg was broken all could clearly see that my leg was broken, there's nothing to hide, and it might be broken because of my own dumb choices. But why when something inside of me is not right do I hide it? What makes those around me feel like they have to hide it? Especially when it's not even their fault. The broken leg might of happened because you tried jumping off the roof of a moving car, not a smart thing to do, the mental brokenness might of happened simply because of how you were born.

Last night Pearl and I watched, "Mom's night out." Hilarious, but all about how people heap pressure on themselves to appear like their lives are ok, all the while freaking out and quickly going crazy.

We laughed a ton at the comical mishaps of the film, yet I was frustrated by the reality that tons of people I know live the lives of those in the movie. And my heart breaks thinking that many of our homes, families, churches, and communities are not a safe place to be honest (like the lady at the coffee bar) but are actually only adding pressure to appear "normal."

So as the week starts, I'm reminded, there's really no "normal" there's just me; me and my two pills a day. But there's also:

• My non-coffee friend with her anxiety and attention to live beyond it. 
• My family with their compulsions and disciplines to keep them at bay. 
• My young friends with their eating disorders fighting to live beyond the lies of their mirror. 
• My older friends with their fears of bipolar and owning how they will feel today.

There really is no need to be perfect, there's just me and my pills, them with theirs, and the grace to be who we really are, honest, simple and accepted. I love that Jesus said to just come, not to come "perfect," whatever that means.

Happy Monday, and enjoy being you.
Matt

Last night...

Last night was one of those one in million nights.

We went to bed. The boys where delightfully tucked in, Indie's sound machine made the room feel like we were sleeping next to a creek filled with crickets as a breeze gently rolled over us from the fan.

It was like camping in the wild yet with in a climate controlled house on a King size bed.... perfect.

I was certain hours of amazing sleep were soon to be mine.

But sadly... (enter curse words from disappointment here) they were not.

My body found a weird turbo drive of caffeine, mental creativity and eye movement causing me to watch the clock ticked slowly, painfully, annoying from 11pm, all the flipping way, minute by minute, to 5:45 am.

That's not a typo, 5:45 in the dag-gum morning!

Only to wake 50 minutes later to get ready for church.

So in the spiteful spirit of a tired grumpy old man, here's some of the more pleasant moments of my last few weeks.

The best of life, finally getting the best of me.

So I started this week talking about how I feel like an addict in an AA meeting finally admitting my life is overwhelming, how busy is just getting the best of me and what's best for me is not getting any of me.

Pearl and I knew life had to simplify, something had to go, something had to change.

But what?

But how?

We felt frozen with the weight of life on top of us. 

So we had to say those words no red blooded American male wants to say, "I can't."

The funny thing is each week I teach students that God loves them period. That he's the god that nothing can push away, nothing can cause him to shy away, and there's nothing that he can't walk us through.

I tell them that, but it's funny how I wasn't fully telling myself that. I tell them God's able to help them no matter what, they just have to ask. So, I figured it was time for me to start asking myself.

I was challenged to actually pray recently, not just a passing prayer before we eat or as our mind slips from awake to sleep, but intentional focused prayer. Having things that we repeatedly talk to God about, saying, "I can't, but you can, so please... you know what is best and let's do that."

So our life, our marriage, our boys, our focus, our work both as pastors and photographers, our friends, our family have been on a list, a list that we're intentionally repeatedly talking to God about saying, "you know what's best, and we want to do that"

After reading the first few chapters of "Simplify" I found myself switching my prayer from help me do more, to help me simplify so what matters most is getting the most of me.

During this old words came to mind, "If I keep doing what I've always done, I'll always get what I've always got."

So what could change?

What's demanding my life/my attention/ my energy?

I thought through what could change with Pearl, the boys, being a pastor, being a photographer... and in the middle to thinking God did that silly thing he does when we actually take time to ask and to ask generally for help.

He answered by bringing to mind, a friend.

A friend named Lauren. She's is a gifted and full time photographer, We meet through Jeremy Hess Photographers. We have captured together, swapped gear, and both attend LCBC.

I felt God pushing to just call, to drop the facade of having it all together and to ask for help.

So I did, and within minutes of asking for help she delivered news that felt like fresh air mixed with caffeine for a tired soul.

She shared a of a wonderful editor that she, as well as other pro photographers in the area, use when they're overloaded. Then with a few text I was in the middle of conversations about what it would look like to outsource our editing.

This simple outsourceing may seem like common sense to you, or not a big deal, but the weight of working through the 8,132 images sitting on my iMac, many of which needed to be to clients already, was life giving.

Seriously, just asking for help, getting help, and seeing a solution has caused Pearl and I to both feel like life just got easy.

That it just got simpler!

So today now that the weight of editing is off my chest I'm asking, "what else am I doing that I really don't have to to keep doing? What simple changes can bring big relief?  Where do I just need to notice the people God has put around me and share life with them and see what happens?"

Thank you Jesus that you never meant for us to do life alone, and that when we ask for help you really do help, if we're willing to pause, listen, and admit we need it.

Happy Friday. 

beat things, burn things, and then put it on social media

Last night was the launch of our new school year for our High School students at LCBC Church, it's called "Circl3."

The night was wonderful. Kids were super excited to be here, new faces and old faces filled our atrium and we had to get extra chairs out to fit everyone in our room (awesome problem!). 

I joked with folks before hand we were gonna "Beat things, burn things, and then put it on social media." I almost texted that to all our kids but my wife said I might want to rethink that decision, she was right, that's not exactly the publicity we need going out. 

The night was fun, we had Pinatas (what we beat), we had sparklers (what we burned) and then we started pushing our social media platforms hard for Twitter and Instagram.  During the night we ate tons of food, laughed, shared stories from our summers and read a bedtime story, a cheesy but cool moment, (never knock the bed time story!) and then tried writing with sparklers a word we hope to describe our next year together. Most of the photos where nasty blurs, but some turned out. 

For inspiration here's my word, impressive right!

Once I was home and trying to wear off my post gathering buzz (I'm exhausted after middle school gatherings and want to sleep yet wired after High School gatherings and can't sleep #personalproblems) and was looking through the nights hashtag feed and seeing what students posted from the night.

This pic grabbed my heart. I think she cheated on the whole write with a sparkler idea, but never mind that, it still stole my heart.

She captioned the image "Tried, but never broken as long as I have Him. #iam #Circl3 #kickoff2014"

This kid is amazing, she's solid, she's the student who's facade says she's got it all together, but it's just that, a facade. This last year has been hell for her. She and her family have gone through one of the dark season of life we each go through at some point or another. They have walked through death, she's walking through major life choices, and then when you add in the now "normal" adolescent drama and life's just heavy and tough and overwhelming and long.

But with one post she showed wisdom beyond her years.

Wisdom that says: "In Him I'm good." Wisdom that says "alone I'm screwed, but in him I'm safe." Wisdom that says "hold onto what matters and loose what doesn't, cause you can't carry both."

So this morning, as the day get's going and life get's busy and things start to press in on us. I'm reminded, "In Him, I'm strong"

Happy Thursday. 

do I matter?

Life is rather hectic these days.

I mean, it's good, but it's also busy.... new baby, toddler, full time work, side company, old house needing TLC, friends, wanting to be healthy, wanting to stay married, you know normal life.

I know we're not getting any awards soon for managing an overly busy life, but for me, for now, it feels like too much.

Last night I started reading Bill Hybels' new book "Simplify: ten practices to unclutter your soul." The first chapter along was enough to make me feel like an addict at his first AA meeting finally admitting he has a problem.

The struggle for me is that I like being busy, I like being around people who are busy, I like getting stuff done and making a dent in the world and not just sitting on my hind quarters drinking sweet tea and dreaming of far away places. I like to live in the now, in the today, I like to sweat and feel the pressure of a day's demands on my shoulders, I like to feel like my work matters, like I matter.

Like I matter. (ouch, did I just write that?)

Truth be told I work hard, I make myself busy because at the root of it all, I'm still asking that adolescent nightmarish question, "do I matter."

Now, I'm not actually asking you if you think I matter, I know I matter, I know my work is making a difference, I know my family loves me, but if I'm honest I'd have to confess I've drank the cultural cool-aid telling me my work is what defines me, I matter when what I do matters to not just me, not just God, but to enough people.

We're told busy people are better people, but I'm starting to ask if busy people are actually broken people.

Do we push beyond what today allows, what this season of life allows, beyond what our emotions currently allow and instead of making the world better, actually break ourselves in pursuit of progress?

So here I go, wanting to simplify, wanting to be busy at what's best but leaving room for rest. Heck, maybe I could make a nursery rhyme for my boys "busy with rest is actually what's best" (it's cheesy but I remember cheesy)

Who knows?

But here I go, trying to figure out what does it mean to still be busy, just busy with rest.

Happy Wednesday.