The other day, my wife asked me to read a moving article about a young man named Nathan Stiles, a Spring Hill football player who collapsed while walking off the field and later died as a result of previous head injuries.
It was an article from ESPN; its primary topic was not the injury and its circumstances, but rather the legacy of this 17-year-old young man and his family's experiences and the direction in which they are now moving after his death.
Nathan's parents started "Nathan Project" to spread the word of God. According to the ESPN article, his father, Ron Stiles, wears his son's size-12 Nike high-tops to every Nathan Project event. Ron has size 10 feet. He told the journalist writing the article, "I'm never going to fill those shoes, [...] But I'm going to do everything I can to walk in them."
I really don't know how I made it through that article without my eyes watering and releasing a torrent of tears. Maybe I was just too tired to experience a fully cathartic moment.
Almost immediately the article got me thinking about Brody. I don't know how I could ever cope with any tragedy happening to him, and I have so much admiration for Nathan's parents because of their extraordinary strength. Would I be able to muster the fortitude to stand so strong in such an incredibly difficult situation? Before I can come close to being able to imagine what I'd do, I have to consider who I am as a father right now.
Just a month ago, we dressed Brody in a wrestling singlet for his 18-month pictures. One shot had him standing in my wrestling shoes, the tops of them almost coming up to his knees. An adorable picture!
Ron Stiles had talked about trying to walk in his son's shoes. In a proud moment, I had just had my son try to walk in my shoes.
What will Brody end up doing in his life? Will he be a strong Christian? Will he be a wrestler or soccer player? A musician or scholar? A gentleman who'll champion the happiness of others by standing up for the little guy?
I wonder what kind of relationship I'll end up having with him. Some of my most personal conversations -- the ones where I'd revealed my deepest emotions -- have been with my own father. It took a while for me to open up to him, but it finally happened when I was in my early twenties.
I think my problem was that I never understood his life or what it had been like walking in his shoes. The only shoes I remember seeing him in are penny loafers, cowboy boots, or hiking boots. His feet have carried him so many places, both good and bad. He's been to places so dark that I hope I -- or Brody -- never have to follow. He's been to places so bright and magnificent that I hope I do get such a chance.
He's stumbled and fallen, he's splashed in life's puddles. He's followed the map, and sometimes he blazed his own trail.
I haven't always picked the best shoes myself, so there are definitely times I hope Brody doesn't try to walk in my shoes.
If he does, however, I hope he tries on the flip flops so that he can relax and enjoy life, the cowboy boots so that he can step lively and proud with each resounding step, the wrestling shoes so he can experience competition and success as a product of hard work, and the loafers so he can walk with an air of a professional.
And there will be times that I hope he goes barefoot so that he can feel the earth and grass on his toes as he makes his own path.
He'll buy new pairs of shoes he won't wear often, and some for special occasions only. Some he'll wear daily and get his money's worth right away. I hope he finds a comfortable pair or two without having to search too hard.
I can't always tell him which pair to go with, but I can be there to advise him. He may want to try a pair just like mine, and I may have to tell him early on that he has no choice in the matter and that he has to wear certain shoes.
For right now, he's switching off and on between a nice pair of Stride-Right shoes and his boots with the flashing lights on the side. I hope that he listens when I try to give advice and that he's able to imagine what it's like to walk in someone else's shoes without having to directly experience it for himself. I pray that God gives him the opportunity to enjoy every step in life, and I pray that God gives him the strength to endure when the path becomes rough. Most of all, I pray that, like the old "Footprints" poem says, Brody allows God to carry him through the dark times on his journey through life.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Happy Thanksgiving!
You should know what you're thankful for, especially when celebrating a particular day of the year that has been set aside specifically for giving thanks. This morning at church, Pastor Seth asked for some volunteers to share their favorite Thanksgiving memories. The first thing to pop into my head (which is logical because wrestling season has just started) was several years of going without mass quantities of food on this holiday.
It was a self-imposed, single-serving, no gravy, not-even-dreaming-of-pie kind of sacrifice. I was simply moderating my intake -- and by "moderating," I mean nearly Spartan. I'd burned plenty of calories at practice that morning and then the day after I'd be able to burn off however many calories I'd picked up from the night before. I just wanted to make sure that I didn't have to start the season very far above my targeted weight class.
I had to shoot straight with myself, especially after hearing the stories told by members of the congregation. One gentleman talked about traveling great distances to see relatives he hadn't seen in years, and one woman talked about driving from California to Oklahoma with her father, who had just returned home from serving in WWII, to see her grandfather, who had feared he wouldn't live to see his son and granddaughter come home to their Oklahoma.
I then remembered the Thanksgiving my freshman year in college when I helped serve dinner at the Lawrence Homeless Shelter. It had been a requirement for a class that I perform some community service, but I had no idea how much this experience would strike me. I'm going to keep this short of becoming a sermon about philanthropy and obligation to serve, and I'll keep that topic for another day.
The question of my own true sacrifice and the things for which I was truly thankful hadn't been a pressing issue until the last few years. It took some maturing, but I began to see things much more clearly. What about those who have no choice in going without? What about those who had lost their closest loved ones or those whose husbands, sons, and brothers were overseas?
I think the purpose of Thanksgiving is to remind us all not to take everything in our lives for granted. For a holiday like this one, certain preparations need to be made in order for it to go well. It seems as though all the emphasis is placed on the location of the meal, the quality of the menu, and the relatives who make (and don't make) the guest list. There are all sorts of "priorities," such as making it to the airport on time, watching whichever football game, spending x-number of hours with such-and-such relative, and so on. The sad thing is that words of thanks and prayer are few and far between with some families.
I've come to notice that frustration becomes a dominant emotion around Thanksgiving. People begin to ask themselves pointless questions such as, "Why did I put forth so much effort?" "Why do I have to do all the work?" "Why does my family have to be the ones to travel so far?" Well, to put it simply, you don't have to do anything on these days. Host the dinner, make the food, travel the great distance because of love and the true reason for this holiday: to remind you of what's important and of the things in your life for which you should truly be thankful.
These thoughts were bouncing around in my head when Pastor Seth brought our attention to the story of Martha and Mary from book of Luke. These two women hosted Jesus for supper; Martha slaved over the preparations as a good hostess and Mary sat attentively and listened to every word from Jesus' mouth. In this scripture, He indicates that Mary had made the right choice and that Martha should not be upset at her sister. He's only a guest and will not be there very long, and she's hearing His word while she still can. Time is finite and life goes on. Hospitality is important, but one mustn't let it impede the truly important things.
Similarly, I realized, time with family is limited. We should make do with what time we do have together. We will never know for sure when will be the next time we all sit down together as a family. We would be missing the point of the holiday if we were to let trivial matters distract us.
In our lives, do we end up tending to take the road of Martha when we should be taking the road of Mary? In the little picture, Mary is in the wrong and Martha is doing the right thing in prepping for dinner. One is shirking her obligations and taking the Tom Sawyer route while the other is toiling and remaining true to her duties.
In the bigger picture, however, Mary is right.
I'm not trying to say that Martha had it all wrong; on the contrary, she does have the rare gift of hospitality, which is often neglected, uncultivated, and under-appreciated. She put all her efforts into the preparations for their guest, which was to be expected. After all, the ancient Greeks believed firmly in the law of hospitality as being one of Zeus's chief concerns. The tale of Baucis and Philemon tells us of the potential for extreme punishment should one be negligent of hospitality, and who would want to risk their homeland being flooded by two vengeful gods?
The myth from the Greeks exists as an intriguing antithesis to the moral of the story of these two women. What is it that makes the memory of a special visit from important guests? What is it that makes a holiday like Thanksgiving so meaningful to us? It isn't always the turkey or pumpkin pie, but oftentimes it is the people with whom we share the meal(s). It's the variety of loved ones, and not just the variety of delicious dishes. There are so many wonderful things that make up this holiday, and we all could do well by making room in our hearts for all of the diversity.
When I really think about my own memories of Thanksgiving, particularly those from my high school days, I don't remember how much actually I went without. Sure, at the time it was as though I were eating as little as an impoverished person, but I've long since made up for it. I now have seven years of eating two Thanksgiving dinners instead of one.
That's two families to enjoy, and two families with the same incredible kind of diversity presented by the holiday menus. Two families' worth of brothers and fathers who are always willing to impart their wisdom; sisters and mothers who thrive at organizing and executing great family dinners; and plenty of children who are the metaphorical whipped cream atop the slice of pumpkin pie.
It's a funny thing: in the rush to get something written and posted up on my blog, I went and committed the very faux pas I was trying to warn against. Forgetting to mention the two most important things in my life, I went and wrote something that omitted direct mention of my wife and son.
I guess it just goes to show that we're all guilty of taking things for granted. We want the small things to be so perfect -- a meal for some, an article for me -- that we don't see the bigger picture. I'm never going to be one who claims to have achieved perfection, whether it's in my writing, my daily "goodness," or my teaching or coaching. But I do recognize and I am truly thankful for the perfect feeling of happiness I get from my wife Emily and son Brody.
There's so much for which I am thankful, but the important things that mean the most aren't material possessions, trivial matters pertaining to work, or abstract memories of the good ol' days. They are my family. Emily and Brody, I love you with all my heart!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
It was a self-imposed, single-serving, no gravy, not-even-dreaming-of-pie kind of sacrifice. I was simply moderating my intake -- and by "moderating," I mean nearly Spartan. I'd burned plenty of calories at practice that morning and then the day after I'd be able to burn off however many calories I'd picked up from the night before. I just wanted to make sure that I didn't have to start the season very far above my targeted weight class.
I had to shoot straight with myself, especially after hearing the stories told by members of the congregation. One gentleman talked about traveling great distances to see relatives he hadn't seen in years, and one woman talked about driving from California to Oklahoma with her father, who had just returned home from serving in WWII, to see her grandfather, who had feared he wouldn't live to see his son and granddaughter come home to their Oklahoma.
I then remembered the Thanksgiving my freshman year in college when I helped serve dinner at the Lawrence Homeless Shelter. It had been a requirement for a class that I perform some community service, but I had no idea how much this experience would strike me. I'm going to keep this short of becoming a sermon about philanthropy and obligation to serve, and I'll keep that topic for another day.
The question of my own true sacrifice and the things for which I was truly thankful hadn't been a pressing issue until the last few years. It took some maturing, but I began to see things much more clearly. What about those who have no choice in going without? What about those who had lost their closest loved ones or those whose husbands, sons, and brothers were overseas?
I think the purpose of Thanksgiving is to remind us all not to take everything in our lives for granted. For a holiday like this one, certain preparations need to be made in order for it to go well. It seems as though all the emphasis is placed on the location of the meal, the quality of the menu, and the relatives who make (and don't make) the guest list. There are all sorts of "priorities," such as making it to the airport on time, watching whichever football game, spending x-number of hours with such-and-such relative, and so on. The sad thing is that words of thanks and prayer are few and far between with some families.
I've come to notice that frustration becomes a dominant emotion around Thanksgiving. People begin to ask themselves pointless questions such as, "Why did I put forth so much effort?" "Why do I have to do all the work?" "Why does my family have to be the ones to travel so far?" Well, to put it simply, you don't have to do anything on these days. Host the dinner, make the food, travel the great distance because of love and the true reason for this holiday: to remind you of what's important and of the things in your life for which you should truly be thankful.
These thoughts were bouncing around in my head when Pastor Seth brought our attention to the story of Martha and Mary from book of Luke. These two women hosted Jesus for supper; Martha slaved over the preparations as a good hostess and Mary sat attentively and listened to every word from Jesus' mouth. In this scripture, He indicates that Mary had made the right choice and that Martha should not be upset at her sister. He's only a guest and will not be there very long, and she's hearing His word while she still can. Time is finite and life goes on. Hospitality is important, but one mustn't let it impede the truly important things.
Similarly, I realized, time with family is limited. We should make do with what time we do have together. We will never know for sure when will be the next time we all sit down together as a family. We would be missing the point of the holiday if we were to let trivial matters distract us.
In our lives, do we end up tending to take the road of Martha when we should be taking the road of Mary? In the little picture, Mary is in the wrong and Martha is doing the right thing in prepping for dinner. One is shirking her obligations and taking the Tom Sawyer route while the other is toiling and remaining true to her duties.
In the bigger picture, however, Mary is right.
I'm not trying to say that Martha had it all wrong; on the contrary, she does have the rare gift of hospitality, which is often neglected, uncultivated, and under-appreciated. She put all her efforts into the preparations for their guest, which was to be expected. After all, the ancient Greeks believed firmly in the law of hospitality as being one of Zeus's chief concerns. The tale of Baucis and Philemon tells us of the potential for extreme punishment should one be negligent of hospitality, and who would want to risk their homeland being flooded by two vengeful gods?
The myth from the Greeks exists as an intriguing antithesis to the moral of the story of these two women. What is it that makes the memory of a special visit from important guests? What is it that makes a holiday like Thanksgiving so meaningful to us? It isn't always the turkey or pumpkin pie, but oftentimes it is the people with whom we share the meal(s). It's the variety of loved ones, and not just the variety of delicious dishes. There are so many wonderful things that make up this holiday, and we all could do well by making room in our hearts for all of the diversity.
When I really think about my own memories of Thanksgiving, particularly those from my high school days, I don't remember how much actually I went without. Sure, at the time it was as though I were eating as little as an impoverished person, but I've long since made up for it. I now have seven years of eating two Thanksgiving dinners instead of one.
That's two families to enjoy, and two families with the same incredible kind of diversity presented by the holiday menus. Two families' worth of brothers and fathers who are always willing to impart their wisdom; sisters and mothers who thrive at organizing and executing great family dinners; and plenty of children who are the metaphorical whipped cream atop the slice of pumpkin pie.
It's a funny thing: in the rush to get something written and posted up on my blog, I went and committed the very faux pas I was trying to warn against. Forgetting to mention the two most important things in my life, I went and wrote something that omitted direct mention of my wife and son.
I guess it just goes to show that we're all guilty of taking things for granted. We want the small things to be so perfect -- a meal for some, an article for me -- that we don't see the bigger picture. I'm never going to be one who claims to have achieved perfection, whether it's in my writing, my daily "goodness," or my teaching or coaching. But I do recognize and I am truly thankful for the perfect feeling of happiness I get from my wife Emily and son Brody.
There's so much for which I am thankful, but the important things that mean the most aren't material possessions, trivial matters pertaining to work, or abstract memories of the good ol' days. They are my family. Emily and Brody, I love you with all my heart!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)