18 Years Old – an Ode to Shelbi
Shelbi at 3, end of first photo shoot
Today we not only celebrate the life of our oldest daughter, but in more ways than she will ever know her arrival changed the course of our lives.
Her arrival sparked a certain urgency in Kristi to find me a job. Indirectly Shelbi is responsible for me spending the last 17 years at Lexmark.
I also happened to gain a significant amount of weight during that first pregnancy. So, indirectly Shelbi is responsible for me weighing more than I should. 🙂
I wasn’t the best husband in the world. In fact, the Cowboys were playing on TV while Kristi was in labor with Shelbi. And while I tried to enjoy the game I was strongly encouraged, maybe threatened is more accurate, by my Lamaze Instructing mother and wife to massage feet and calves for hours. So, Shelbi is indirectly responsible for my fading fanaticism in regards to the Dallas Cowboys…that and Jerry Jones. And is also indirectly responsible for making me more responsible.
We built a house because Shelbi was coming. We bought a car because she was coming. We spent money on a glider and bought a brown Lay Z Boy because she was coming (it’s still my chair). We bought a really good, and really expensive, vacuum cleaner because she came (we still have the same Kirby and would never own anything else). We bought a video camera because she came. I learned that putting together a crib can take hours, that the best way to relieve constipation is to shove a thermometer in your rear end, that holding you so you faced out and pulling your knees to your chest helped relieve some of your colicky pain – boy were we exhausted those first few months, and that breast milk isn’t always the best form of nutrition. I learned that there are some hurts Daddy can’t fix, and there are some fears Daddy can’t fight. I learned how to trust doctors to do surgery…twice. I learned that blankets with holes in them can bring comfort and two fingers are always better than one, but allowing you to suck fingers instead of a pacifier was a poor choice regardless of how cute it was. I learned that it is possible for a nine year old to be compassionate (Bunko for Tsunami Recovery Birthday). I learned that suffering through being the oldest child doesn’t prepare you to raise your oldest child. I learned that regardless of how well you think you know your kid it is never a good reason to fail to get to know your kid. I learned that being up front with my kids with my mistakes doesn’t necessarily mean my kids won’t make the same mistakes with worse consequences.
Senior picture with Momma
Most of all I learned to love. Unconditionally love. And for that I think everyone should thank you.
Regardless of the cost, the change, the lessons, the pain you were worth it. You is kind, you is smart, you is important. Welcome to adulthood. Now the true test of whether or not we did a good job of being your parents begins. May God be gracious and merciful because perfect we were not.
To that I think I can hear you say, “AMEN, brutha!”
Gateway to Possibility
I can still remember the surprise my brother Paul and I received when two brand new Huffy BMX bikes showed up on our front stoop. Paul’s was yellow and red and mine blue. It had a banana seat and a plastic fuel tank with the word HOMBRE pasted to the side, knobby tires and hopes of being ridden over jumps and up and down hills. I can even remember doing a somersault over a drainage pipe as I misjudged a jump and tried to stop at the last minute. Before the days of helmets and personal action video cameras you’ll have to take it from me, but it was only by the grace of God that I didn’t land on my head and die. That bike was a gateway into an entirely different world where large dirt piles were conquered, and success was judged on who could lay down the longest skid mark.
The bikes were a tool, but more than a tool, they were a gateway into a whole new world of possibilities. Without it I would argue we couldn’t even imagine what we could have done. It opened up the possibilities of ramp building and flying through the air if only for a second or two, but never in my wildest dreams would I have dreamed this. It makes me wonder what tools could be gateways that we are either failing to use or refusing to acquire?
The sheer creativity of this BMX track brings out the kid in me again. Super fun stuff! And turn the volume down for the first few seconds as the guys introduce themselves so that you miss the explicative.
Good Intentions – a sad but funny story
So, I am trying to ride my bike to work at least once a week. Depending upon the weather and my schedule I pick a day and just do it. It’s a 17 mile round trip and I end up burning around 1200 calories. It’s that last fact that is a real motivator. The more often I do that the more I don’t have to worry about what I eat and drink. However, I don’t ride my bike from home. I drive to the Horse Park and park at the head of the Legacy Trail, a run, walk, bike trail that takes me right to work. It’s a great trail and it was a cool morning. It was a perfect morning.
It’s the drive to the Horse Park bit that makes my actions inexcusable. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.
On Tuesday night I packed my backpack. This time I even remembered underwear and an extra shirt for the trip back. Nothing defeats the clean and fresh feeling of a shower like having to wear sweaty underwear. I remembered to pack a water bottle this time. The last time, and first time, I was left dying of thirst and remained dehydrated most of the day. I even packed my laptop to use at my second job that evening. I thought I had everything and made my way to the car. As I left the driveway I remembered that someone had borrowed my truck last weekend and removed my bike helmet from the back seat. Proud for not forgetting it, and recalling an innocent trip to Wal-Mart that resulted in a tumble over the handle bars, I opened the garage door and retrieved my helmet.
Before I got to the end of the street I recognized that my lovely wife had left the truck on empty. She had taken my truck the night before which put a little monkey wrench into my plans to pack everything up for my trip as soon as I got home from our family outing. So, I pulled into the gas station to fill up, and was on my way in no time.
I arrived at the trail promptly at 7:00 am and judged that I would be to work, showered and in my chair by 8:00 am. I parked smartly behind a tree so that I would get afternoon shade. I selected my podcast for the ride, opened the Map My Tracks App and selected cycling as the exercise of choice. I made sure my Garmin Forerunner was reading my heart monitor and I exited the vehicle with my backpack in tow.
I looked into the bed of the truck and was immediately struck by what I saw.
NOTHING!
That’s right I had everything but the bike for my bike ride. I was tempted to run the trail but a recently strained right calf was far from ready for that.
I know what you are saying, “How do you forget your bike?”
Here’s the kicker. I had multiple opportunities to recognize that the bike was missing. I walked right past the bed of the truck to get in the first time. When I exited and entered the truck a second time when I went to retrieve my helmet would have been a good time to recognize. Even the gas station where I stood at the bed of my truck for at least 10 minutes would have been a redeemable situation, but it wasn’t until I needed the bike that I recognized it was missing.
I had remembered the day before that I needed to put the bike in the truck. I had planned to put the bike in the truck upon my arrival home. But I never actually put the bike in the truck.
It reminds me of the parable that Jesus tells of the two sons who were told to do something by Dad. One said he would and didn’t do it and the other said no, but did it (Matthew 21). Often our spiritual development gets short circuited by confusing intention with action. Sociologists have even discovered that you are less likely to achieve a goal if you tell others about it, than if you keep it to yourself. For some reason our brain seemingly convinces us that we’ve already achieved the goal.
I don’t know if that is what happened to me, or if habit just got in the way, or if I’m getting old, or if God knew my right calf needed another day. I’d like for the last one to be true. In any case, I failed to reach my goal for the day, but God willing, I’ll try again.
However, the events of the day have also caused me to look retrospectively at where I have confused intention and action. I’m asking, “Where have I fallen short of actually following through?” and “How can I eliminate the intention-action confusion in the future?” I might need to make a list and check it off, or maybe I just need to slow down and make sure I have everything for the journey.
Can you relate?