In the three-and-a-half years I have (intermittently) been posting to this blog, I have taken many, many opportunities to express my gratitude to and for my beloved wife, our marriage, and the life we have together. And I have told quite a few stories from the lives of our kids – some happy, some sad, some bittersweet. But I have not often expressed my gratitude for them. . .
Molly will often admonish me that, as much as I dote on her, and shower her with affection and appreciation, our kids need those things even more than she does. Early on in our life as parents together, I came across something that said that the most important thing I could do for my kids was to love their mother. And I’m sure there’s a lot of truth to that. And I’m sure that our kids have gotten their share of the benefits of my ardent love for Molly. But they do need my love for them on their own behalf, and I have not always been so expressive of the love that I do, in fact, hold for them in my heart.
But, all this is becoming a pretty rambling preamble; let’s get to it, shall we?
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My beloved children,
At this time of year, we take a day aside to focus on gratitude – those things in our lives for which we are thankful, and perhaps most particularly, those things which we might normally be inclined to take the least bit for granted.
And this year, I want to say that I am grateful for you. I am grateful for each one of you, and for all of you together. Each of you is a particular gift to me – each of you brings your own particular bits of joy into my life. And all of you together make our family uniquely what it is.
I confess that, in my wildest imagination, I never thought I would be the father of eight children. God has given me more than I ever imagined I could handle (of course, it often seems a bit hubristic of me to think that I’m ever actually ‘handling’ anything, but I try my best). I confess, too, that I’ve sometimes felt overwhelmed by the sheer ‘volume’ of our family, and out of that overwhelmed-ness, I’ve not always given you all what you’ve needed from me. And for that, I ask your forgiveness. But I’m getting ahead of myself. . .
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I am grateful that each of you, in your own way, loves the Lord Jesus, and aims to live for Him. Just to have us pray The Hours together brings a layer of richness to our family life that is precious to me. But to see each of you pursuing the Christian life in your own way, and on your own initiative, gives me a deep, nearly-inexpressible joy. My one greatest hope is for all of us to one day be together in Heaven (if ‘days’ can be said to have any meaning in the context of Eternity). . .
I am grateful for the character that I see manifest in your lives, to ever-growing degree. And I hope that it will continue to grow, and bring prosperity to your lives (and you understand, right, that by ‘prosperity’ I mean something much more like ‘blessedness’ than ‘wealth’, don’t you?)
I am grateful for the music that flows from our family. It is a gift from God that, in one way or another, every one of you is musical, and we can take joy in our individual and common musical gifts. I have loved the times, few as they’ve been, where we’ve all been able to sing and play music together. Let’s try to do more of that. . .
I’m grateful that, in the past year or so, we’ve been able to have you all (or at least, most of you) together for Sunday brunch, most weeks. It is good, on a very fundamental, human level, for us to be together like that, and just be a family together.
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For the times I’ve been too aloof, and haven’t given you (any of you individually, or all of you collectively, as the case may be) the attention and affection you’ve needed, I ask your forgiveness. When I was a kid, I tended to live a lot inside my own head; and that’s been a hard habit for me to break. Throughout my fatherly life, God has consistently, and persistently, called me more and more out of myself, and I’m sure that’s one of the reasons he gave me so many of you. Mother Theresa often said that our main task in this life is to learn what it really means to love, and for me, that involves getting out of myself, and giving myself for the sake of others whom God has given me to love. That would be you all. And I am all too aware that I have not always responded to God’s call to me to love you, as freely as I should have. And for that, I ask God’s mercy. And yours.
For the times I’ve been harsh and demanding, I ask your forgiveness. We parents harbor dreams of raising our kids to be better than we are. Which, when you think about it, really isn’t fair. But we do. We – I – want you to be the best you can be, and I’m all too aware of my own failures and weaknesses, and I would hope to keep you from them, as much as I’m able to. But my desire for you to be excellent, even better than I am, is no excuse for failing to love you, and appreciate you for who and what you are. And for that, I ask God’s mercy. And yours.
The Truth is, I love you – each one of you, as a unique instance of the Image of God. I regret that I have not always demonstrated that love to you as I should have; that, in my fallen-ness and weakness, I have fallen short, both of the love that I have owed you as your father, and even of merely giving you the love, meager as it is, that I actually hold in my heart for each of you. But I do love you. And I’ll try to show it to you more effectively, as I go along. (“Deeds, not words” is a worthy motto I saw somewhere; I’ll try to do better at that, too)
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As I said above, I never, in my wildest imagination, thought I would ever be the father of eight children. But I wouldn’t trade being your father for anything – not for any amount of wealth, or power, or prestige. Being your father, I have learned something of what holiness is, as I’ve had to come out of myself (imperfectly as I have managed to do so); and I’ve learned something of what it means to love – and of how really little I have loved up to now. So, for those things I thank you.
And I thank you for making my life rich. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without any one of you; but it would be poorer – that much I know for certain.
So – thank you, one and all. Thank you for making me a father; and, in my case, at least, becoming a father has meant pretty much the same thing as becoming a grown-up – which is to say, a man.
I couldn’t have done it without you.
In love, and gratitude
Your Dad
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
More Bittersweet
Over Christmas, we visited with my family, a couple states away. The situation with my mother’s health meant that even my youngest brother and his wife, who live a couple thousand miles away, came; I hadn’t seen that sister-in-law since their wedding.
Mom couldn’t be with us, which was sad. But we went to see her at the nursing home. Molly and I had seen her this past summer, and she had declined considerably since then. My kids hadn’t seen her in even that ‘intermediate stage’ of her decline, and so it was quite shocking for them to see her. It was quite an emotionally trying thing for a couple of them, and also my youngest brother, who had to step out of the room to regain their composure. Pretty rough stuff.
Later on, my siblings, and Dad and I, had a Family Meeting to discuss Mom’s care regime, and Do-Not-Resuscitate orders, and all that happy stuff. Life has certainly gotten ‘interesting’.
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As the meeting wound down, the seven of us siblings turned to reminiscing about Mom and the impact she’s had on our lives. And I said that, when I was in the room with her, all I could think of to say was “Thank you.” That she had come into my life to be a mother to me when my ‘first mother’ had gone away. And then my sister (my step-sister, from Mom’s first marriage) said an amazing thing, that hadn’t occurred to me before.
She was talking about their life after Mom’s divorce, and how their Grandma (Mom’s mother, who became my grandmother in the fullness of time) virtually took them in, and was their ‘surrogate mother’, because their mom had to work to support them, and wasn’t very present in their lives. Then she pointed to Dad; “until he married her. Then we got our mom back.”
And that just floored me. I was well aware of the impact of their marriage on my own life, and how relieved I’d been to have a mom again. But I’d never really ‘lost’ my Dad. For my step-sibs, though, Mom and Dad’s marriage got them TWO parents – it got them a ‘new dad’, but it also got them their mom back. And that had never occurred to me. It also helped me to understand, on a deeper level, the sense of gratitude that my sisters have toward Dad.
Since my mom has been in her decline, we’ve had a couple of these conversations, in which we’ve talked more openly and deeply than we ever have. We’ve never talked terribly much about our respective lives Before Mom and Dad’s Marriage – it just didn’t seem to be relevant to the life we had together – so this was a pretty significant topic of conversation.
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It’s hard to process all my thoughts on this situation. The prospect of losing my mom is terribly sad, and it seems clear that that will likely happen sooner rather than later. But, it is also bringing us siblings closer together in the process.
On another level, it’s just the next stage of our lives, and one that I can count myself fortunate to have not gotten to until my early 50s. We had our own growing up and young adulthood; college; getting a job; getting married and having kids, etc, etc. And now, our age-peers’ kids are getting married and having kids of their own.
And our parents are dying. It doesn’t make it any easier to live through my own parents’ decline and eventual death, but it does help to understand that this is something that happens in everyone's life, and isn't just a special 'insult' from the Universe, directed at me. . .
Mom couldn’t be with us, which was sad. But we went to see her at the nursing home. Molly and I had seen her this past summer, and she had declined considerably since then. My kids hadn’t seen her in even that ‘intermediate stage’ of her decline, and so it was quite shocking for them to see her. It was quite an emotionally trying thing for a couple of them, and also my youngest brother, who had to step out of the room to regain their composure. Pretty rough stuff.
Later on, my siblings, and Dad and I, had a Family Meeting to discuss Mom’s care regime, and Do-Not-Resuscitate orders, and all that happy stuff. Life has certainly gotten ‘interesting’.
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As the meeting wound down, the seven of us siblings turned to reminiscing about Mom and the impact she’s had on our lives. And I said that, when I was in the room with her, all I could think of to say was “Thank you.” That she had come into my life to be a mother to me when my ‘first mother’ had gone away. And then my sister (my step-sister, from Mom’s first marriage) said an amazing thing, that hadn’t occurred to me before.
She was talking about their life after Mom’s divorce, and how their Grandma (Mom’s mother, who became my grandmother in the fullness of time) virtually took them in, and was their ‘surrogate mother’, because their mom had to work to support them, and wasn’t very present in their lives. Then she pointed to Dad; “until he married her. Then we got our mom back.”
And that just floored me. I was well aware of the impact of their marriage on my own life, and how relieved I’d been to have a mom again. But I’d never really ‘lost’ my Dad. For my step-sibs, though, Mom and Dad’s marriage got them TWO parents – it got them a ‘new dad’, but it also got them their mom back. And that had never occurred to me. It also helped me to understand, on a deeper level, the sense of gratitude that my sisters have toward Dad.
Since my mom has been in her decline, we’ve had a couple of these conversations, in which we’ve talked more openly and deeply than we ever have. We’ve never talked terribly much about our respective lives Before Mom and Dad’s Marriage – it just didn’t seem to be relevant to the life we had together – so this was a pretty significant topic of conversation.
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It’s hard to process all my thoughts on this situation. The prospect of losing my mom is terribly sad, and it seems clear that that will likely happen sooner rather than later. But, it is also bringing us siblings closer together in the process.
On another level, it’s just the next stage of our lives, and one that I can count myself fortunate to have not gotten to until my early 50s. We had our own growing up and young adulthood; college; getting a job; getting married and having kids, etc, etc. And now, our age-peers’ kids are getting married and having kids of their own.
And our parents are dying. It doesn’t make it any easier to live through my own parents’ decline and eventual death, but it does help to understand that this is something that happens in everyone's life, and isn't just a special 'insult' from the Universe, directed at me. . .
Monday, September 29, 2008
It's Personal
Yesterday was the 19th anniversary of my reunion with my birth-mother. . .
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Sometime when I was in college, the realization dawned on me that, as an adoptee, I had been somebody’s ‘unwanted pregnancy’ once upon a time. And in the fullness of time, that became one of my strongest motivations to search for my birth-mother – I wanted to thank the woman who had carried me in her womb for nine months, and seen me through to the beginnings of my life in this world.
Along with that realization, I came to realize that, all things considered, I was probably fortunate to have been born before 1973 and Roe v. Wade. I had never particularly staked out a firmly-held position on abortion (My younger self was probably mostly ‘pro-choice’, without having given it much thought), but once I understood that, had I been conceived in another time, I would have been a pretty likely candidate for abortion (white college women abort roughly 98% of their ‘unwanted pregnancies’), the question took on an entirely different, and personal, aspect.
I recall a conversation I had with my birth-mother some time after our reunion. She was talking about her life as a pregnant-and-unmarried woman in the 1950s, and how difficult it had been for her, and she said something like, “I just wish I’d had the choices that women have today.”
Um, excuse me? You realize, don’t you Mom, that the ‘choice’ you’re talking about wishing you’d had, is whether or not to kill ME? I mean, we’ve had a really, REALLY happy reunion, and both of us are glad for the opportunity to know each other, and our respective families. If you had exercised the ‘choice’ you’re talking about, none of that would be even a remote possibility. You might still wonder who I’d been, but without any possibility of ever knowing. . .
She understood. Not that she was wishing that she’d aborted me; only that she’d felt so trapped when she was pregnant, and wished that she’d had anything at all she could have done about that.
Now, I could understand how trapped she felt. Frederica Mathewes-Green has written insightfully about women who “want an abortion the way an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg”. And I get that. I have the utmost compassion for women who are pregnant when they don’t want to be. My daughter was one of those women, just a couple years ago. And I wished there was something, anything, that I could do to make it easier for her. . .
But, back in 1955-56, that was ME in my birth-mother’s belly. Not a clump of cells, not a faceless ‘fetus’ – it was me. And if my birth-mother had had an abortion, it was me who would’ve died.
And the ripples go out from there. My adoptive parents might’ve adopted someone else; who can say? But they wouldn’t have adopted me. My classmates and friends and Little-League teammates could scarcely be said to have missed me – how do you miss someone you never even knew existed? – but something of the life we shared together would never have happened. Molly would most likely have married someone else (I mean, she’s an amazing woman; how could she not?); but she wouldn’t have married me. And our children would never have come to be – her children, if she had any, would be someone else entirely. . .
And so it goes. In fact, those of you who were born after 1973, have you ever wondered how many children who would have been your friends or classmates or Little-League teammates, were never allowed to be born? What music was never made, what literature was never written, what cures for which diseases never came about, for want of the men and women who would have done those things, but were never born?
My point here is not to guilt-trip any woman who has ever had an abortion; my heart absolutely goes out to those women, for they, too, have had violence done to them. I only hope to put a more ‘human’ face on the question, and encourage anyone to think of ‘unwanted pregnancy’ not so much as a ‘problem’ with an easy technological solution, but as something real, and human, and flesh-and-blood. And life-and-death.
I don’t think my birth-mother is terrible for wishing she’d had more choices available to her (honestly, on one level, it’s easy for her to say; she’ll never bear the cost of having chosen otherwise). No, I actually think she’s pretty cool; as birth-mothers go, she’s definitely one of the best, and I am as happy as I can be that we’ve known each other these 19 years. I understand how trapped she felt 52+ years ago, and I absolutely appreciate, and am utterly grateful for, the sacrifice it was for her, for me to be here today. It’s personal for her in an entirely different, but analogous, way to how it’s personal for me. And I understand that.
But I have to tell ya, it is a strange, strange thing, to be told by your mother that, as much as she loves you, she wished she’d had the choice of whether or not to kill you before you were born. . .
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Sometime when I was in college, the realization dawned on me that, as an adoptee, I had been somebody’s ‘unwanted pregnancy’ once upon a time. And in the fullness of time, that became one of my strongest motivations to search for my birth-mother – I wanted to thank the woman who had carried me in her womb for nine months, and seen me through to the beginnings of my life in this world.
Along with that realization, I came to realize that, all things considered, I was probably fortunate to have been born before 1973 and Roe v. Wade. I had never particularly staked out a firmly-held position on abortion (My younger self was probably mostly ‘pro-choice’, without having given it much thought), but once I understood that, had I been conceived in another time, I would have been a pretty likely candidate for abortion (white college women abort roughly 98% of their ‘unwanted pregnancies’), the question took on an entirely different, and personal, aspect.
I recall a conversation I had with my birth-mother some time after our reunion. She was talking about her life as a pregnant-and-unmarried woman in the 1950s, and how difficult it had been for her, and she said something like, “I just wish I’d had the choices that women have today.”
Um, excuse me? You realize, don’t you Mom, that the ‘choice’ you’re talking about wishing you’d had, is whether or not to kill ME? I mean, we’ve had a really, REALLY happy reunion, and both of us are glad for the opportunity to know each other, and our respective families. If you had exercised the ‘choice’ you’re talking about, none of that would be even a remote possibility. You might still wonder who I’d been, but without any possibility of ever knowing. . .
She understood. Not that she was wishing that she’d aborted me; only that she’d felt so trapped when she was pregnant, and wished that she’d had anything at all she could have done about that.
Now, I could understand how trapped she felt. Frederica Mathewes-Green has written insightfully about women who “want an abortion the way an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg”. And I get that. I have the utmost compassion for women who are pregnant when they don’t want to be. My daughter was one of those women, just a couple years ago. And I wished there was something, anything, that I could do to make it easier for her. . .
But, back in 1955-56, that was ME in my birth-mother’s belly. Not a clump of cells, not a faceless ‘fetus’ – it was me. And if my birth-mother had had an abortion, it was me who would’ve died.
And the ripples go out from there. My adoptive parents might’ve adopted someone else; who can say? But they wouldn’t have adopted me. My classmates and friends and Little-League teammates could scarcely be said to have missed me – how do you miss someone you never even knew existed? – but something of the life we shared together would never have happened. Molly would most likely have married someone else (I mean, she’s an amazing woman; how could she not?); but she wouldn’t have married me. And our children would never have come to be – her children, if she had any, would be someone else entirely. . .
And so it goes. In fact, those of you who were born after 1973, have you ever wondered how many children who would have been your friends or classmates or Little-League teammates, were never allowed to be born? What music was never made, what literature was never written, what cures for which diseases never came about, for want of the men and women who would have done those things, but were never born?
My point here is not to guilt-trip any woman who has ever had an abortion; my heart absolutely goes out to those women, for they, too, have had violence done to them. I only hope to put a more ‘human’ face on the question, and encourage anyone to think of ‘unwanted pregnancy’ not so much as a ‘problem’ with an easy technological solution, but as something real, and human, and flesh-and-blood. And life-and-death.
I don’t think my birth-mother is terrible for wishing she’d had more choices available to her (honestly, on one level, it’s easy for her to say; she’ll never bear the cost of having chosen otherwise). No, I actually think she’s pretty cool; as birth-mothers go, she’s definitely one of the best, and I am as happy as I can be that we’ve known each other these 19 years. I understand how trapped she felt 52+ years ago, and I absolutely appreciate, and am utterly grateful for, the sacrifice it was for her, for me to be here today. It’s personal for her in an entirely different, but analogous, way to how it’s personal for me. And I understand that.
But I have to tell ya, it is a strange, strange thing, to be told by your mother that, as much as she loves you, she wished she’d had the choice of whether or not to kill you before you were born. . .
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Giving Thanks
Over the years, the conviction has grown within me that gratitude is, on a very fundamental level, the most appropriate response we can make for our lives. Gratitude to God, yes, certainly, and fundamentally so. But, even on a more mundane level, gratitude to our parents; to our teachers, coaches, and mentors; to our brothers and sisters, and our friends.
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing, and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy to our lives.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my friends in Blog-space to, however briefly, give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
(2 comments)
Existence itself is a gratuitous gift, for which there is no appropriate response except gratitude. Loving relationships; food, clothing, and shelter; all the mundane, daily circumstances that, individually and collectively, bring joy to our lives.
Every one of us has his/her own set of things to be thankful for, and people to be thankful to. Rather than riff off into my own 'list', I'll just encourage all my friends in Blog-space to, however briefly, give some thought to what you're grateful for, and to whom. . .
(2 comments)
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Only My Love Does It Good To Me
There are times when I’m simply overwhelmed by the wonderful-ness of my wife. Times when I just look at her and ask myself, “How is it that the most amazing woman in the universe threw her life in with me?” And I’m just in awe of my good fortune.
There might be a few women in the world (stress on ‘might’ and ‘few’) who are physically more beautiful than Molly, but when I consider the strength of her character, the beauty of her soul and spirit, she blows them all away. I’ll say it again – she is the most amazing woman in the universe. I almost feel bad for the rest of you guys that she’s my wife. Almost.
And the thing is, I’m well aware that I did nothing in particular to deserve her. I’m still not real sure why, all those years ago, she brought that rubber ball to me, when it seems like there must have been lots of more desirable guys than me available to her. But I’m glad she did. I’ve described previously how we knew each other pretty well before we ever got to the point of courtship. And that’s what’s most amazing of all to me – she’s told me many times how God told her, before I even proposed to her, “What you see is what you get with him.” She had a pretty good, sober assessment of my character. AND SHE STILL MARRIED ME! That blows me away, and I’m grateful for it every single day I’m married to her.
And even now, after 26 years, I’m still blown away. She knows me way better now than she did back then, and she still throws her life in with mine. For all the clear-eyed, sober appraisal of my character she had when we were courting, there are lots of things, not all of them good, that she’s only learned from living with me for 26 years. And she still stays married to me. Amazing!
“Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, I must have done something good.”
Simply flat-out amazing.
(5 comments)
There might be a few women in the world (stress on ‘might’ and ‘few’) who are physically more beautiful than Molly, but when I consider the strength of her character, the beauty of her soul and spirit, she blows them all away. I’ll say it again – she is the most amazing woman in the universe. I almost feel bad for the rest of you guys that she’s my wife. Almost.
And the thing is, I’m well aware that I did nothing in particular to deserve her. I’m still not real sure why, all those years ago, she brought that rubber ball to me, when it seems like there must have been lots of more desirable guys than me available to her. But I’m glad she did. I’ve described previously how we knew each other pretty well before we ever got to the point of courtship. And that’s what’s most amazing of all to me – she’s told me many times how God told her, before I even proposed to her, “What you see is what you get with him.” She had a pretty good, sober assessment of my character. AND SHE STILL MARRIED ME! That blows me away, and I’m grateful for it every single day I’m married to her.
And even now, after 26 years, I’m still blown away. She knows me way better now than she did back then, and she still throws her life in with mine. For all the clear-eyed, sober appraisal of my character she had when we were courting, there are lots of things, not all of them good, that she’s only learned from living with me for 26 years. And she still stays married to me. Amazing!
“Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, I must have done something good.”
Simply flat-out amazing.
(5 comments)
Monday, September 25, 2006
Gratitude
Sometime around the year 1420, a monk named Thomas a Kempis wrote a book, The Imitation of Christ, which in the fulness of time would become the most widely-read Christian book besides the Bible. And, in its turn, it also became one of the all-time favorite books of one Mr. Desmond Jones.
The Imitation reads sort of like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into 'Desmond's Book of Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:
"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Molly and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette advice for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works on multiple levels. . .
I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy'. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Molly and I got married and began having our own children - 1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me. And all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude - I'm grateful to her for giving me life (and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me), and she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals, and there would be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined, but from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.
And all the moreso in marriage. I'm so grateful to Molly for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know that it works the same way from her end.
It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings', just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is), brings deep joy to my whole life. Does that make sense?
So I'm not really meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe that we've learned something really good and valuable, and I'd commend it to any of my friends who can receive it.
(9 comments)
The Imitation reads sort of like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs - wisdom for living the Christian life from a wise old monk. It is simply dense with rich and challenging quotes, several of which have made their way into 'Desmond's Book of Quotes' (not available in stores). One of my favorites, which I commend to the attention of all my blog-friends is this, from chapter 6 of Book 3:
"A wise lover does not so much consider the gift of his lover as he does the love of the giver."
I first came across this many years ago, but it has become one of the favorite 'bywords' that Molly and I will quote to each other. It bespeaks a kind of humble gratitude, which has served us really well in building our marriage over the years.
On the face of it, it's pretty simple, really - sort of like etiquette advice for opening presents on Christmas morning - be grateful for the gifts you get, even if they're not exactly the ones you were hoping for. But you know, Thomas doesn't present it as etiquette advice; he just says, "A wise lover. . ." More like, "this is wisdom beyond what meets the eye. . ." And it works on multiple levels. . .
I'm adopted. At some point when I was in college, I connected the dots, and the realization dawned on me that I had been somebody's 'unwanted pregnancy'. It occurred to me that my very existence was due to somebody I'd never met taking the trouble to see me through nine months of pregnancy. Molly and I got married and began having our own children - 1F was actually the first person I ever knew who was genetically related to me. And all the while, the realization of what it had cost my birth-mother for me to be alive was growing stronger. Until finally, the sense of gratitude for my own existence became my strongest motivation to find and meet my birth-mother.
My birth-mother and I have always had a great relationship. Not so much because either of us are such wonderful people, but because at the bottom of it all, our relationship is one of mutual gratitude - I'm grateful to her for giving me life (and putting up with everything that went into that, including relinquishing me to be adopted by a family that could raise me), and she's grateful, even after all the years, to have a relationship with the son of her womb (and a fine son he is, if I may say so myself). We're both fairly quirky individuals, and there would be a lot to be annoyed with in each other, if we were so inclined, but from the beginning, our relationship has been founded on gratitude, so the quirks just seem really minor.
And all the moreso in marriage. I'm so grateful to Molly for throwing her life in with mine, for the love she gives me every day, and for the richness of the life we share together, that her quirks just aren't a very big deal by comparison. And I know that it works the same way from her end.
It's not just a matter of 'seeing the glass half-full' or 'looking on the bright side', although both of those are good advice. Temperamentally, I'm not a 'glass-half-full' person. But being able to receive with joy 'the gift my lover brings', just because I know how it's expressive of her love for me (quite a separate question from how good a gift it is), brings deep joy to my whole life. Does that make sense?
So I'm not really meaning to hold myself up as a shining example of superior virtue, or anything like that. But I do believe that we've learned something really good and valuable, and I'd commend it to any of my friends who can receive it.
(9 comments)
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
I'm Not Half the Man I Used to Be
I've been promising to post something 'lighter', so here it is -
In the past five months, I've lost 75 pounds.
I've been overweight my whole adult life, and I had pretty much given up hope of ever getting to a healthy weight. Nothing I did ever worked - I mean, I would practically starve myself ('embrace the hunger pangs. . . Ommmmm'), and lose five or ten pounds, but I could never sustain anything. After a certain amount of time, you just can't keep talking yourself into enjoying the feeling of hunger. So I was pretty much resigned to life as a Fat Boy.
I refused to 'go on a diet' - take on some drastic program for a while, then once I'd lost the weight go back to what I'd always done, thus undoing all the weight loss. No, I knew that I needed to change my lifestyle - I just didn't know how.
Then, last winter, my birth-mother came for a visit (to be here when 1F had her baby), and brought a diet book with her (very subtle, my birth-mother), saying that this seemed like a really good program, aiming at lifestyle change more than simply weight loss. Just what I needed. Molly read the book, taking a week or two to absorb the ideas, and then she went to work, following the book's recipes to make healthy meals for me. And it worked. I lost 18 lb. the first two weeks, 30 the first month, 45 in two months, and now 75 lb. in five months. I'm back down now to what I weighed in college (and when Molly and I got married). The thing is, I'm still 50 lb. heavier than I was in high school, and I was a 'Fat Boy' even then. So, I've still got a ways to go.
Now I have more energy, and I just generally feel better. Six months ago, my blood pressure was 140/90, my cholesterol was 230, and my resting pulse was 78. Last week, my blood pressure was 111/62, my cholesterol was 95, and my resting pulse was 54. I was on two BP medications and a cholesterol med, and my doctor took me off all of them. And if you ask Molly, she'll tell you that things between the sheets are better than they've been for a long, long time.
I don't know how to tell you what an impact this is having on me. I feel a little like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. I've had such a lack of success in my life at losing weight, that I almost can't believe this is really happening. But I can tell you, this is a permanent change - I'm never going back to the way I ate before. And I am so incredibly grateful to Molly - she's doing all the work. Food preparation is taking significantly more of her time now, but she's happy to do it for me. It communicates her love to me in an incredibly deep way. I mean, she really does want to keep me around for a while longer, and grow old with me.
So goodbye, mayonnaise - enjoyed the time we had together, but I just can't hang with you anymore. So long, ice cream - it was fun, but I gotta go now. Bye-bye, pizza - you had to know this was coming, right? And hello, spinach - I can't believe we never got to know each other before now. Same for you, blueberries and cherries. And green tea. And my old friend fish, sorry I neglected you for so long. Stick around, chicken, but don't bring you skin with you, OK?
I apologize if I'm being too 'preachy' about this; I really do know the difference between weight loss and something REALLY of ultimate importance. But this is so amazing to me, so flat-out miraculous, that I just sort of rattle on about it. If you all will just indulge me for a moment here, you'll be very kind. . . Thanks for listening.
-------------------------
edit June 22 - Molly is urging me to tell you all 'the whole story' of just how miraculous this weight loss is. . .
Last fall, I asked for prayer in one of the meetings of the Christian community Molly and I belong to, because I was so discouraged about my inability to lose weight, and my weight was starting to affect my health, and bring my long-term viability into question. No big deal, no falling down, no 'HEEE-YUHL', just asking some folks to pray for me. And then, this winter, my birth-mother showed up with this diet.
Now, the timing of things could just be a happy coincidence (well, it is AT LEAST that, isn't it?). I mean, I'm an engineer; I have a Master's degree. I understand the laws of physics, cause and effect, all that. But - what if it's NOT just a happy coincidence? That possibility has to be acknowledged.
And, at the very least, after decades of nothing working, of beating the crap out of myself to no avail, I am amazed and grateful that now, finally, somthing is working, and it's happening when it never did before.
(4/3 comments)
In the past five months, I've lost 75 pounds.
I've been overweight my whole adult life, and I had pretty much given up hope of ever getting to a healthy weight. Nothing I did ever worked - I mean, I would practically starve myself ('embrace the hunger pangs. . . Ommmmm'), and lose five or ten pounds, but I could never sustain anything. After a certain amount of time, you just can't keep talking yourself into enjoying the feeling of hunger. So I was pretty much resigned to life as a Fat Boy.
I refused to 'go on a diet' - take on some drastic program for a while, then once I'd lost the weight go back to what I'd always done, thus undoing all the weight loss. No, I knew that I needed to change my lifestyle - I just didn't know how.
Then, last winter, my birth-mother came for a visit (to be here when 1F had her baby), and brought a diet book with her (very subtle, my birth-mother), saying that this seemed like a really good program, aiming at lifestyle change more than simply weight loss. Just what I needed. Molly read the book, taking a week or two to absorb the ideas, and then she went to work, following the book's recipes to make healthy meals for me. And it worked. I lost 18 lb. the first two weeks, 30 the first month, 45 in two months, and now 75 lb. in five months. I'm back down now to what I weighed in college (and when Molly and I got married). The thing is, I'm still 50 lb. heavier than I was in high school, and I was a 'Fat Boy' even then. So, I've still got a ways to go.
Now I have more energy, and I just generally feel better. Six months ago, my blood pressure was 140/90, my cholesterol was 230, and my resting pulse was 78. Last week, my blood pressure was 111/62, my cholesterol was 95, and my resting pulse was 54. I was on two BP medications and a cholesterol med, and my doctor took me off all of them. And if you ask Molly, she'll tell you that things between the sheets are better than they've been for a long, long time.
I don't know how to tell you what an impact this is having on me. I feel a little like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. I've had such a lack of success in my life at losing weight, that I almost can't believe this is really happening. But I can tell you, this is a permanent change - I'm never going back to the way I ate before. And I am so incredibly grateful to Molly - she's doing all the work. Food preparation is taking significantly more of her time now, but she's happy to do it for me. It communicates her love to me in an incredibly deep way. I mean, she really does want to keep me around for a while longer, and grow old with me.
So goodbye, mayonnaise - enjoyed the time we had together, but I just can't hang with you anymore. So long, ice cream - it was fun, but I gotta go now. Bye-bye, pizza - you had to know this was coming, right? And hello, spinach - I can't believe we never got to know each other before now. Same for you, blueberries and cherries. And green tea. And my old friend fish, sorry I neglected you for so long. Stick around, chicken, but don't bring you skin with you, OK?
I apologize if I'm being too 'preachy' about this; I really do know the difference between weight loss and something REALLY of ultimate importance. But this is so amazing to me, so flat-out miraculous, that I just sort of rattle on about it. If you all will just indulge me for a moment here, you'll be very kind. . . Thanks for listening.
-------------------------
edit June 22 - Molly is urging me to tell you all 'the whole story' of just how miraculous this weight loss is. . .
Last fall, I asked for prayer in one of the meetings of the Christian community Molly and I belong to, because I was so discouraged about my inability to lose weight, and my weight was starting to affect my health, and bring my long-term viability into question. No big deal, no falling down, no 'HEEE-YUHL', just asking some folks to pray for me. And then, this winter, my birth-mother showed up with this diet.
Now, the timing of things could just be a happy coincidence (well, it is AT LEAST that, isn't it?). I mean, I'm an engineer; I have a Master's degree. I understand the laws of physics, cause and effect, all that. But - what if it's NOT just a happy coincidence? That possibility has to be acknowledged.
And, at the very least, after decades of nothing working, of beating the crap out of myself to no avail, I am amazed and grateful that now, finally, somthing is working, and it's happening when it never did before.
(4/3 comments)
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