Where the road leads next

We are six weeks pregnant.

This time around, Julie is really feeling it. She told me yesterday that while on the way to church she almost asked me to pull over three times to puke. I was so happy!

I feel bad for her, really I do, but I am so excited that she is this sick! The last pregnancy, two years ago, was not like this. Our little one was on the outside of the uterus, and by six weeks my wife was bleeding internally and in real danger.

That was then.

We are confident that things are where they should be this time around, and I am thinking we are having twins, because she has never felt this bad before. I say we, even though I know my wife is the one who is pregnant, but I have always felt very connected with our kids from the start. I love being a daddy. I love the responsibility of raising children. I love that I am the protector and provider. I absolutely thrive on it.

So when I say we - I really mean it like that. Children are a blessing. Sometimes they enter our lives easy, and sometimes they arrive to challenge us, but they are always a blessing.

I am still not over losing the last one. It honestly almost killed me, and I can't explain that to most men, but most women I have talked with understand it. It was the hope of what was to come that I miss, that is what creeps up and grabs me and sucker punches me out of the blue. Not just the hope of the life that our child was unable to complete, but the hope of that new life in us and our family. It just makes me sad, and I fear I will never be able to accept that there was absolutely nothing I could have done.

So I wasn't sure how I would feel about going down this road again knowing what "might" happen. We were not trying to get pregnant. We had been praying about adoption and wanted confirmation either way by January.

God is cool - eh?

There is no physical reason to think we could not have another successful pregnancy. Doctors gave us the green light, friends have been encouraging us, but it took God to do a work. Knowing a c-section is on the way for my wife, I have never pushed it with her. It is scary as hell to watch your wife get cut open, so part of me was okay with the decision to just wait it out. Now that we are pregnant, it just seems like the right thing, and we have the faith to know it will all work out.

Almost 2 years after losing our third pregnancy we find ourselves passing a painful milestone. The most amazing thing is we find ourselves getting over a bump in the road of life, a detour that ultimately lead to so much healing, a siding that allowed us to catch our breath and recover. We are making plans and thinking about names and wondering what it all means.

There are careers to consider and home schooling and piano lessons and income and moving, and, and it is just all so exciting!

We are blessed, simply blessed.

Admittedly this is an odd thing to post about, but I was metro sexual long before it was in vogue to be one. I made my own clothing in the eighties for heaven sake, and to this day refuse to wear tennis shoes with anything other than an outfit that looks like I could run in. I never leave home without a belt and matching shoes and always smell good, really good. If all that was not enough to convince you, a secret motivation I have to lose some weight this year is so that I can buy new designer clothes at Ross. I am big enough to kill most men with my bare hands but would rather go shopping for clothes, write poetry, paint, or sing.

God has a sense of humor.

Even though I am built like middle linebacker, I have always struggled with body image. The self loathing comes in waves and I have never been able to fully understand it. I have been told that a poor body image is a normal effect of sexual abuse and can be difficult to pin down. Uncovering that hurt and getting healing from it is on the agenda for 2008.

If my email in-box is any indication, low self esteem is the number one issue for men and the number one issue for women is what men don't have! It is said in those cleverly craft3d m3ssag3s that what women are most concerned with is a phallus large enough to puncture their uterus. 4"- 6" which was adequate since Adam and Eve, has suddenly doubled to 8"- 10" and the message is if you don't measure up a pill will get you there in only 5 weeks!

"90% of women say they are unsatisfied with their partners size."

Really!? All the while I was told the main issues in marriage are money and infidelity. I guess the infidelity part is the women going out for a bigger... oh wait, men cheat 70% compared to women and the reasons women cheat are predominantly emotional. Imagine my shock to find out via email that women secretly want to be RotoRooted.

It all makes sense now.

Please.

I will admit that being bombarded by this stuff does not help my body image. Sure I think I would look better with more, but the truth is the number one way for a guy to add length to his twig is to lose that 2 or 3 inches of fat parka around it! Even though their wives have never complained, I am certain that most guys would agree that more must be better. We are fragile like that. We like to have the biggest fastest hardest longest loudest most expensive anything. It makes us feel secure and in control. The absolute last thing we want to feel insecure about is our boys, and God forbid if it is average!

In any case, wieners are not the point of this post. What is the point is that I can relate to the self loathing and pain overweight women carry as I watched this free episode of "How to look good naked". Carson is a bit flaming for my taste, but looking past that he has a great heart and did more good in 5 days with Layla than most people ever do for anyone else in a lifetime.

Granted, there is more to life than looking and feeling good but I think we overlook the impact that can have on us spiritually. We barely understand the physical side of life, are just getting a handle on the emotional side, and can't even come close to a consensus on the spiritual. We may find out that all three are equally important and God is equally concerned with all three.

I know from experience that if I can't love myself fully I will be hard pressed to fully love God. How can we love the creator if we hate the created? Loving ourselves enough to start taking care of ourselves can propel us to love God who in turn tells us how much He loves us which in turn causes us to love ourselves all the more.

I used to think this was selfishness and the ultimate form of faith was denial of self. Somewhere I picked up the lie that a life of disdain was somehow Godly and honored Him. That is garbage. There is certainly a point where self love, i.e. selfishness is wrong, but the motive for selfishness is a tough one to pin down. Most selfish people I meet are not selfish because they are complete - they are selfish because they lack.

If we are truly "full" and at peace with us the natural outflow is to take the love we have for ourselves and love our neighbors with it. Without exception, the times when I am selfish are times when I am hurting. Without exception, the times when I am loving and giving are when the world seems right.

If I hate me - the natural outflow is for me to hate others.

2008 is a year for me to look good naked. I am determined to get over myself enough to be happy in my own skin. I am determined to bare it all to help others. I am determined to stop wasting one more minute, one more hour, one more day obsessing negatively about ME.

Looking good naked is a great place to start and it is much more than skin deep. Our motives are naked before God. Our hearts are naked before God. Our thoughts are naked before Him as well.

Looking good naked should be the motive for everything.

I have determined that 2007 was an upside down year.

I had no idea our stop in Wisconsin October of 2006 on the way to visit relatives was a premonition for the year to come, but there can be no doubt that 2007 for me was the beginning of undoing.

Time has a funny way of pilling up changes to the point where you must deal with them. I am sure there is a divine directive in this but since measuring God is nearly impossible, time will have to do.

Time was pilling it on in 2007.

I don't even remember 2007 being all that spectacular. It was filled with the usual doldrum of work that will horrifically be 10 years in January. It is almost inconceivable that I have spent 10 years of my life in the same office. 10 years driving to the same location. Apparently I needed that much time to get whatever I was supposed to get out of that job. I am all but certain I will not be there much past 2008. I still have no idea what is next, but I can feel that change is on the horizon.

Change has taken on a new meaning for me in 2007. The year proved that even though times get tough, economies turn for the worse, wars linger, and dreams die, change is just around the corner. Walk the path of patience long enough and a fork will be found, or better said the fork will find you. Hold onto indecision long enough and it will turn into a decision. Learning to trust that waiting can be the best action is a lesson garnered only by experience.

Trust can only be experienced by finding yourself in a place where you must. I still don't like it, but what I think is becoming less important to what I know. I know better in 2007.

The best thing learned this last year was that "I don't know" is an answer. It is as complete an answer as "I do know" and always preferable to "I think I know". "I don't know" was the start of so many wonderful things like "I don't want" and the second best thing I learned, "no". "No" and I have become best friends, much to the chagrin of those that never heard it uttered by me. "Yes" has been added lately, but it is always slung and counterbalanced with no. No can be cut loose at any time and always trumps yes. Yes is just the trail blazer for no.

There can be no doubt to those who have watched me this year that 2007 was a banner year for me marked by the simple fact that nothing spectacular happened. There was no crisis. There was no "have to". The most noteworthy thing was that there was no noteworthy thing. Even blogging took on a different flavor as concern for real change trumped the internal drive for change simply for the sake of change.

Mind you, this year has not been without its drama. In fact, more had transpired this year in the way of real crisis than I can remember in long time. The difference is that this time around there is simply nothing I can do about it. It is all external, and as such, is completely out of my control. Sure I still worry about it, but I find myself able to (for the most part) put things into perspective and realize that if things are to change, God is the one who has to do it. It is all on Him, so either way it will turn out good.

I realized that truth about a month ago and it has made all the difference. I am not 100% there yet, but most days I look with anticipation to what may come. Dread has been replaced with hope and even though I have a vivid imagination about all that could be, I choose to dwell on what is.

2007 was an upside down year. 2008 will be all right.

I have determined that learning to trust is one of those lessons that must be experienced in order to master. Trust is an action - like swimming - you can't really learn how to swim by reading about it, or talking about it, or thinking about it.

The only way we learn how to swim is to get wet.

It is this realization, and ONLY this realization, that has allowed me to walk down this road of learning to trust. Walk is too strong a word, it is more like crawl, or perhaps a slow shuffle. In any case I am determined to do what ever it takes to make forward progress. At times it feels like the only thing moving me on is my stubborn determination to prove that if trust is an experience, come hell or high water, I WILL experience it.

Sink or swim - I am getting wet.

The anonymous card the usher handed me at church on our way out yesterday was a startling splash in the face. I certainly wasn't expecting the $250.00 gift card. I never even fought the temptation an hour earlier to keep my tithe check or balked at giving the $25.00 for the staff, even though the act guaranteed my kids would have one less gift this year. And my reward for dipping a toe into the deep waters of faith was I didn't drown!

I know it is almost impossible to drown getting a toe wet, but I assure you that small act from my vantage point was not unlike tipping over the edge of Niagara Falls.

This week looks like it may be a "knee deep" week. The funny thing is the water doesn't seem all that bad now that I have been in it a while. There are no crashing waves, no slippery rocks. No one is pushing me off the dock or throwing me off the boat. This learning to swim is nothing if not....

Peaceful.

Alcoholics like me.

Homosexuals like me as well, but I will tackle that in another post.

I have a knack for attracting people that have been affected by alcohol. They are either actively drinking, recovered, are married to someone that has, or on the road to or from. Every one of my neighbors are alcoholics. There is actually a bar across the street from my house. This bar is in the garage of my neighbor.

How weird is that.

Most of my coworkers are alcoholics. I have witnessed much in my 10 years here. The big gifts at the Christmas party have always been booze. Crown Royal is apparently a really thoughtful way of saying "Happy Birthday Jesus".

So it comes as no shock to me that my guitar player on my worship team at church is an alcoholic. Much to the chagrin of my friends, his behavior is neither threatening or obnoxious to me. It is familiar and vulnerable, and my heart simply breaks for the condition he is in.

No one wants to become an alcoholic.

It took me years to get to the point where I could believe that and I believe it with all that is in me. Alcoholism is a disease and I would never harass a cancer victim for having a bad day. Alcoholics usually offend people when they are hurting, so it makes it difficult to be objective when they are spewing their insecurity and hurt. It takes a great deal of discipline not to react emotionally, but when it all lines up and the alcoholic has been heard real change can happen.

People make the mistake thinking that by telling the alcoholic all about their sins, that will somehow snap them out of their slow suicide. As if their killing themselves is a result of their life being one great big party. No one needs to tell the drinker or drug addict their failings, it is usually all they can see. The only way to help the alcoholic is to love them where they are at, not enable them in their negative behavior, and live your own life. If they choose to be nasty, we get to choose to leave. If they are hurtful and angry, we walk away and talk to them when they are sober.

One of the last places on earth that this type of acceptance happens in the church.

My guitar player has arrived hung over 2 Sundays and this last week he reacted and caused a minor disruption. It was not a huge problem, but the confrontation from the platform directed to the sound team was not transparent. Thankfully my friend admitted he was wrong, has remained teachable, and is the only requirement to be used by God.

I have a meeting with him tonight to talk about his drinking. I am actually looking forward to it. I am full of faith that he will be able to see my desire is for him to get better. He is hurting, and it hurts me to know that his only hope is in the bottle. My God is bigger than his problem.

My God is a God who saves.

Surrender is not an option.

To surrender is to admit defeat, and I will be damned if I will ever admit defeat. That was my position on just about everything until last Saturday.

Stubborn? Me? I never really thought I was, but I could certainly always see stubborn from here. I looked at my position on things a little less black and white, it was simply survival. I have always had to fight so it was perfectly natural to hang on to what I believe come hell or high water. When faced with the mandate of self denial in a broken home, hanging on to you is all you got.

So it should come as no surprise that my personality is a mix of easy going forcefulness. I think they call it passive aggressive. I am passive about most things but look out if you touch on something I am passionate about. If thinking about murder is a as bad as doing it, I have been homicidal. Cut me off in traffic and my natural reaction is to follow you home and bury my fist in your head.

I wish I was being dramatic about that.

Thankfully I have always snapped myself out of that kind of thinking but rage is a feeling most of my siblings know all too well. Apparently it is a family trait.

At the heart of rage lies a wounded insecure child lashing out. I am certain this is not a clinical diagnosis of rage. I arrive at this because I learned to rage as a child. It usually manifested itself during times of helplessness, or being "wronged" or being afraid. Take a step past the inflicted child and rage is all about control. There is no time more vulnerable than childhood, so if I have control issues, I learned how to cope then.

Last Saturday a series of events lined up in my life. There was nothing dramatic about these events. I didn't have the desire to run my neighbors over or anything like that, but the realization crept into my mind that I was trying to control a situation I had no control over. Before Al-anon I would have happily locked horns with the problem and try and wrestle it down no matter how impossible the chance of success might be. They call that insanity.

It may have been the lack of sleep the night before, the comfort of the bed cradling me, the chill of the air against my face in contrast to the warmth of the covers, but whatever lined up during my Saturday nap was divine.

I saw what appeared to be a book case full of tall thin flat diamonds stacked on end. They were similar is shape to diamond Christmas cookies, but much thinner, narrower and made of a light alloy or plastic. I remember audibly saying to God, "I give you control" and these tiles, or chips, or whatever started pouring out of their container. The cascade began at the top as a few tiles in the center simply fell over off of their tip. There were no shelves, they were all perfectly balanced one on top and next, and as they poured out they made a sound like dumping Lego's on hardwood.

The funny thing is I wasn't asleep. I was very much awake and aware of everything around me. For a moment the vision became more real and once the event was over I was left lying there as before.

As I thought about this later, I don't ever recall actually giving my life over to God. I thought I had. I have certainly attempted to. But it wasn't until this moment that I actually felt like something changed in me.

This week has been a continuation of the same theme, although much less dramatic. It is interesting to me how one can know what to do, practice it for a time, forget what works, only to remember it again. For all my complexity and deep understanding of things of God, I still act like a sheep.

Thank God I still have a Shepard.

Read and watch WVEC story here

Not wanting my week to start, I am going to blog a little this afternoon. It seems a good diversion, one I won't regret later, (hopefully) one that won't get me into trouble, (much) and looks good if the boss should walk in. Not that I actually have to look busy. In fact, I could just as easily be doing this from home.

Speaking of home, I had a fantastic lunch this afternoon of lasagna and pumpkin pie. Lasagna is so over the top for lunch, but to chase it down with pie! All I can say is "wow".

I can't say wow about the work portion of my day however. It hasn't even been a bad day, I just don't feel like doing anything today. I am sure part of the problem is I have had 2 restless nights sleep. A tired Davie is a not so upbeat Davie. A tired Davie tends to look at things with a little too much introspection and start thinking in absolutes like "always" and "never". With that in mind, I am just going to give myself a break today and chalk it up as one of those days.

One of the lessons of Al-anon is to take it easy on yourself. I am notoriously so self critical I leave little room for people that hate me to do worse. I guess that is a defense mechanism or something; hit me with your best shot, mine was already harder.

Over my year of recovery I have learned to stop the internal banter of self destruction. At first it was like losing a friend and very difficult to let faults just hang out there for other people to pick up on. A funny thing started to happen however, as I allowed people in my life to care about me, those faults became areas I could work on with them.

Being vulnerable allows us to grow. Having it all "figured out" ahead of time left me unapproachable and haughty. The end result was I never actually had to change anything. As long as I could mask the need to change with the aggressive attitude of already knowing I had to, I could agree with the fault, but never agree on the solution.

The last thing most children of alcoholics want to do is agree with the fault and agree with the solution and for good reason. For some of us, we knew the fault was not us and the solution was for the alcoholic to stop drinking. All too often we became the fault and the solution in the alcoholic home, so the only way to survive the schism of changing the core of who we were as a person, was to self loathe. That way the pain and confusion of a home life in crisis could be focused internally without destroying what was left of a shattered soul.

Unlearning that behavior takes grace and takes time. It takes grace to know that not everything rises to the level of crisis and it takes time to learn how to trust criticism that does not destroy.

It is a painfully slow process to learn that some days are just "those days" and not connected to anything more.

Time to get some work done - wasting time at work is a fault.

Hi, my name is David and I am a sugar addict.

I have made great strides in the last months changing my diet, but Sunday's remain the "free day" to eat whatever I want. Yesterday that included 12 oz. of deliciously sweet 7-11 cappuccino, and a creme cheese donut.

We have made a habit of leaving the church after we play for the morning intersession time. I usually get a cup of coffee with some Splenda and creme, but I opted for the sweet stuff instead. My trip last Sunday and Monday to Chi-town threw me off my routine and all week I had been flirting with sugar. I gave little thought to how the donut would make me feel, and besides it was a stressful week and I needed it.

By the time we made it back to the church for the morning service I was feeling pretty good.

Once we arrived back home, I noticed that my wife had not touched her chocolate frosted glazed "pull apart" sugar donut. I volunteered to eat it, and I pulled each little sticky frosted dough ball apart in front of my daughter. I offered her a piece, but she said the smell of the sugar made her sick. I ate the whole thing, every last bit. It actually started making me sick half way through, but I finnished it to the horror of my 13 year old.

I am not proud of that moment. The only good that can be said is that my daughter does not eat like me.

Feeling the full effects of the sugar again, I sat and watched some late morning television until noon.

I wasn't hungry when my wife asked what we should do for lunch, but I had the presence of mind to suggest subs at Harris Teeter. Our other option was fast food, so considering that, it was a good choice. We picked up the subs and grabbed 2 bags of potato chips. So much for that.

By the time we finished our carb rich lunch at home, I was ready for a nap. I tried to fall asleep, I was tired, but I couldn't turn my mind off.

I decided to put the screens back on the house since the weather had turned cool enough to open the windows during the day. A trip to Home Depot was in order to check into some weather stripping, so the boy and I made a trip. Of course I couldn't leave without grabbing a bag of peanut M&M's. Thankfully, the drink we purchased was water.

It seems so ridiculous as I write all this down, what was wrong with me!

The rest of the day was not much better with stir fry and rice for dinner and ice cream for dessert. At least I didn't follow up with the remainder of the potato chips.

Needless to day I woke up this morning feeling like dog squeeze.

Thankfully, we got our grain mill back from the factory Friday. Thankfully, I talked about this "sugar issue" with my wife last night on the Way to Target to get a new bread maker.

So far this morning, I have been doing great! A slice of homemade whole wheat bread, a glass of detox powder, and 30 oz of water.

And a pounding headache.