An Invisible Force...

To date, scientists have been able to identify four fundamental invisible forces that hold everything together in our Universe.  Scientists all over the world have accepted the concept of these various interactions within the physical world based on pure observation and a certain degree of experimentation.  The simple fact that they are able to measure the influence that these forces have on our surroundings, apparently is good enough for them to assume that they are real.  Gravitation, electromagnetic force, strong force, and the weak force are the names that have been given to these interactions by scientists.  Gravitation, for example, has been studied for centuries and currently a great effort has been put into place by researches to discover a particle that they have already named the “graviton,” in order to explain its influence on the physical world.  To date, the elusive “graviton” has not been proven to exist or discovered in any of the experiments that have been conducted.  However, since we all can feel the effects of gravitation in our lives, it is only fair that humanity accept its role as part of our existence.  On a smaller scale, the three other interactions between the minute particles that have already been proven to exist and compose all that is contained in our Universe have also been accepted without visible proof.  If we were able to zoom in or magnify anything in our world, sooner or later we would discover that tiny particles called atoms are the building blocks of all matter.  However, even smaller are what we call sub-atomic particles which in turn are the building blocks of atoms.  Inside an atom, in its center, particles called neutrons and protons are held together tightly by another invisible force which scientists have elected to name the strong force.  The even smaller particles which fundamentally compose neutrons and protons are also held together by this strong force.  Somewhere, almost randomly hovering outside the center part of an atom which is also called the nucleus; particles called electrons are kept from floating away by the other force called the weak force.  It is because this force is not as powerful as the strong force that the electrons from atoms are able to interact with the electrons from other atoms creating molecules, which when they are abundant enough become everything we see around us.

What I find extremely interesting that in an effort to understand and explain these forces, names have been assigned, mathematical models have been created, and in many cases more than one theory has been set in motion that can describe these forces.  Still though, scientific arrogance is great enough to assume that what we believe today must be true regardless of how our experience has tough us that we have been wrong many times in the past.  Invisible forces are not the only place in science for which we have created models that are constantly changing our belief system.  Light, for example, is not truly understood.  In order to try to explain it, scientists have named its basic particle as the “photon.”  However, when experiments are conducted to verify if light is really a particle, a sort of duality becomes apparent.  On the one hand light behaves as a particle and on the other as a wave instead.  So in essence, again scientists are mostly clueless as to the true composition of light.  Interestingly though, scientist have been fine with accepting this duality for light, even though a scientific explanation for particle duality has been lacking.  In other words, as stringent as the scientific community is with regards to needing physical proof to accept the existence of their discoveries, I tend to notice a great deal of faith placed in some of the most fundamentally accepted notions of science.  Invisible forces and the duality of light are just two of many other accepted scientific controversies.

I make the above point in order to explain myself a little bit better with regards to why it is that even though I too am a man of science, I find very little controversy within myself by also being a man of faith.  Science in itself is full of controversy and leaps of faith.  I might be able to mathematically explain a great deal of what happens around me in the physical world, yet when it comes down to it at any time what I thought was solid answer to my scientific results could turn out to be mostly wrong.  In other words, just because I can prove it, does not make it right.  By the same thought process I find it safe to say that just because I cannot prove it, does not make it wrong either.  The problem is that we are, as a civilization, in diapers.  Infants to the understanding of all that surrounds us.  We might think we know the answer to incredibly difficult questions, yet our minds have not yet evolved enough to grasp the truth and reality of our existence.  This is not a putdown to our evolutionary location in time, it is just a fact that we need to accept before we can take the next step to becoming a more mature civilization.  The challenge for you and I is that our human life span is a miniscule portion of our civilization’s evolutionary growth scale.  What this means is that as a society we will not grow fast enough to reap most benefits to our efforts in attaining greater enlightenment during our own lifetime.  On the other hand, if it was not for the efforts of our ancestors, we would not be in a better place today, which in turn gives meaning and importance to our present efforts in order to contribute to the well being of future generations.

I cannot make a stronger argument towards the value of being a good parent than my belief that my efforts today will somehow reap fruit in the lives of my children tomorrow.  To me, the results are obvious when I look back at how dedicated, loving, and giving my own parents were with me.  At most junctures in my life the decisions and choices that I have made have always been impacted by the influence of my parents.  This is not to say that I have always made the right choices, however, their lives have always served me as a gauge to measure and compare myself.  Knowing how their lives have influenced mine gives me a great deal of motivation to try to do the same for my own children.  Hopefully my personal growth will trigger theirs, and theirs will trigger their children’s, and so on.  The steps that I take in the right direction are a good start for creating a path for future generations.

Just as scientists have found a justifiable means of believing that invisible forces and the controversy of lights duality are real, I find no reason to dismiss so many of the other forces that guide the choices in my life.  Just because it is a matter of the mind and heart does not make it any less relevant or important.  In fact, just because I do not totally understand it, does not make it less real.  I cannot see it but I feel gravity as it pulls on my aging body making it harder and harder with time to get out of bed every morning.  I also feel love as it pulls me towards making better choices in my life with relationships and when parenting my children.  At the risk of offending anyone that might not have the same belief system that I do, I also confess feeling God’s hand touching some of the most intimate places of my heart and soul on a daily basis.  In fact, I have found my spiritual belief system to be essential in my survival of all of the challenging experiences I have encountered in my life.  It might seem as if I am strong enough to walk this path on my own, but I know better to assume that no other force is at work in my life.  I wish I could take credit for my professional success, but when I take my own internal survey to assess where I am in life, it is much more than obvious that God has blessed me immensely.  In my ability to continue to parent my children, especially the challenges that I have faced with my oldest son, I see nothing within me that could keep my head above water on my own.  I am mostly lost when I face difficult moments, and it might sound weak, but I am typically more ready to give up than I am to go on when the waters turn turbulent and the road seems dark and scary.  I know then, and mostly then, how little power I have in making the moments survivable.  I find it impossible not to humble myself and so I pray for Devine intervention, knowing fully well that without it I am most certain to find myself in an even darker place.

Every time I feel lost, frustrated, and wanting to complain about my difficulties, it only takes a few seconds of self reflection to realize that in life things can always be worse…always!  As painful and difficult as a moment might get, I know that that exact moment is meant for me to learn and grow.  I might not want it and most definitely not like it, but it is my moment and I have to learn to embrace it in order to get to the other side and survive it.  Fortunatelly for me there is an invisible Force that has always manifested itself in my life giving me the strength I need to go on.  I'm not sure how it works, I cannot do the math to explain it, but it works, and I am grateful.

Dad

Soaking...

I am really glad that warmer days are finally here.  Last night I decided to turn on the Jacuzzi heater a few hours before sunset to have the water just right for a relaxing moment later in the night.  As usual I mentioned my intent to my younger son as an enticing offer to come and chillax for a little while later in the evening.  At the moment he had been feeling a little under the weather because of some abdominal discomfort that had started two days earlier, so he replied by telling me he was not sure if he would be coming into the water or not.  The planet took its time rotating into the sunset position, but eventually without hesitation the earlier blue skies began to transform themselves into a kaleidoscope of colors that could defy the most talented artist to be able to reproduce on canvas.  I looked at the horizon and not only was I able to see the majestic beauty of it all, but also the constant reminder that the sunset also serves as an indicator that life is much more than the instant that we are in; time moves forward regardless of were we are in this great big blue ball.

Half an hour after I was soaking in the warm pleasant water I was surprised to see my youngest child walking out of the house in his swim trunks into the back yard carrying a towel.  Seconds later he was in the water and we were both back into our typical friendly sharing the moment mood.  Our massive planet had already rotated enough to block all of the powerful flow of photons ejected from our sun allowing the sky to darken enough for us to be able to see many of the brightest stars.  “Ahhhh, what a wonderful feeling of peace and normalcy…” my mind whispered into my consciousness.  One subject led to another and as usual our conversation flowed smoother than anyone could expect for it to flow between an old man and a 14 year old.  He too started writing a blog at the same time I began writing this one, and I have always been pleasantly surprised to know how incredibly consistent he has been at posting at least three times a week for the last nine months.  He talked about how more and more people were leaving comments to his posts, and also how much better of a speller he had become because of his effort.  However, more important than the content of our conversations was the true value of the moment that we shared; the bonding of father and son and the insight that we always gain into each other’s lives and our minds.

God has found a way to effortlessly reward me by allowing me to have a second child that brings an enormous amount of balance into my life.  When this child was only 6 months old we almost lost him to aseptic meningitis, which in many ways at the moment felt as a cruel reality of destiny.  I clearly remember the moment I was requested to hold on to him firmly as the physicians needed to insert what seemed as an enormous needle between his vertebrates to extract spinal fluid.  The infant’s tears flowed from his tiny eyes like a water fountain as he cried inconsolably from the pain of the spinal tap procedure.  I stayed strong and firm in my determination to not allow him to move while the experts performed their job, but my heart was anything but strong and firm.  Inside the anguish, the pain, the fear was cursing through my every fiber desperately seeking a way to reveal them too.  A week later after the boy was out of the hospital, I remember during a private moment getting down on my knees in gratitude and giving thanks to God for allowing me to still have my child.  Throughout the years my youngest son has by far exceeded all of my parental expectations and given me so many reasons to want to remain firm in my task as a father.  Many times I have wondered if in the middle of my darkest moments I would have been able to find the same strength to go on if this child was not in my life.  So in essence, I feel in debt to him for giving me so much of what I need to be a better father.

Ninety minutes after he walked into the hot spa water we both mostly forced ourselves to face to cooler outside air knowing that it was time to head to bed.  When I do this relaxation exercise in the evenings all on my own, I typically feel worn and ready to fall asleep after a quick shower.  The difference of doing this with my son is that he adds to the moment some of the fuel that I need as a father to recharge my efforts in parenting my other son.  We rarely talk about any of the problems that I am having parenting my oldest son, yet it is my oldest son that benefits the most of from it all.  At the most I might casually mention the status of our family affairs in what could almost be considered an executive level.  Maybe that is why my youngest son keeps coming back to spend time with his old man in the spa, because it is not just good for me, it is also good for him.

Dad

My left thumb...

I really thought that two weeks after the incident my left thumb would be completely back to normal.  Originally it felt the same as when I’ve sprained it playing basketball or volleyball, something I’ve done many times in my life.  Typically, a few days afterwards the pain is gone and I have totally forgotten how I hurt myself in the first place.  Apparently this is not the same since after two weeks I have only gained about forty percent of the original mobility and flexibility.  I suspect a hairline fracture, but have been too preoccupied by other things in my life to head to the doctor and have it checked.  In his intoxicated state my oldest son managed to inflict much more damage than ever before.  In fact, it had been over a year since the last time that there were any physical anger manifestations on his part, and at least two years since we originally spent 10 weeks of intense therapy dealing with his intermittent explosive disorder.  What I find the most interesting and yet concerning of all is my own reaction to this last incident.  For one, at the moment it truly took me by surprise so I had very little chance to brace myself, get out of the way, or even de-escalate the event.  One minute I was asking him to be more considerate about his noise level at 4:45 a.m., and the next I was being taken down to the ground in a violent struggle.  What amazes me the most is that I was not angry, which probably explains why I found myself in the awkward position on the floor with his fist reaching for my testicles in an effort to inflict excruciating pain.  I never truly became aggressive; all I wanted was to get off the floor and away from him.  Once I found the opportunity to do so, I retreated several feet away from him but then found one of his shoes hitting the left side of my face.  “Why would he do such a thing?” was the only question that came to mind.  He then charged again towards me, this time with the intent to kick me with his now shoeless foot, but by then my moment of confusion was over and I was able to react and get out of the way.  His foot hit the wall behind me instead and I could see that it hurt him a lot.  “You broke my foot!” he exclaimed, which brought an intense stare of amazement on my end knowing that the only reason he was in pain was because he meant to inflict his rage on me in the first place.  “I know people that own guns, I could get one and shoot you!” he yelled as he limped away towards his room.

I challenge you to count how many different ways I was injured that day.  The physical part of the altercation is but one of so many ways he hurt me.  I doubt that many parents ever expect to be in this situation, much less without provocation.  The groin pain subsided much faster than I anticipated and the face injury from the thrown shoe did not leave any mark or any residual pain.  However, that sharp pain that still lingers in my left thumb is a vivid reminder of the unanticipated moment or rage I encountered from my son two weeks ago.  Every time I accidently move my thumb thinking it is not going to hurt, the entire experience comes rushing back alive in my mind.

After 72 hours of “observation,” my son was sent back home.  My immediate reaction was obvious internally still fearing for my life, but I never did say much more to him that day than “no drugs, no alcohol in my home,” and then I walked away.  Now more than ever I have been sleeping with my door locked, and have not said much more to him than the usual offers of pleasantries and food.  He’s approached me several times with the typical $1.50 request to buy coffee at the corner Chevron station and a few other things, but we have not had a conversation with regards to the incident.  You see, if he was wired like most of us, then me wanting to set new or more stringent rules would not only make sense, but also be expected.  However, I already know that if I raise the bar things only get not just a little worse, but a lot worse.  Instead I am buying time, allowing him to meet with his new therapist, letting him discover the damage he inflicted on me on his own and a little bit at a time.  He knows I am hurt, it is obvious in my demeanor and how thick the air is between us.  The most impacting injury is inside my emotional state.  I am afraid of my son, I am sad or more accurately depressed because of how incredibly painful it is to love him so much and be rewarded with so little respect in return.  For the first time in 17 years I have felt much more like a victim than I have ever felt before, yet I refuse to accept that role knowing that what has driven him to this behavior is not his will, but his illness.

I have thought about this all day long today and I believe that the reason I have not yet gone to the doctor to have an x-ray done of my hand is because I do not want to lie.  If I go in I feel more as a victim by answering the question of what happened to me by giving some lame answer such as “I hurt myself playing basketball,” than telling the truth, “my son became violent and hurt me!”  You would think it would be backwards.  The truth makes me look so much more like a victim to the outer world, yet lying to hide the fact of being a victim makes me feel weak and not in control of my life.  Does this make any sense?  It is as if I truly could care less what others think, and what I think matters much more so because I am the one that has to live with myself.

There are moments in all of our lives that can only be understood by the few that experience them first hand.  Telling someone of how amazingly happy I felt when I held my children for the first time when they were born does not do justice to the actual feeling in itself.  Trying to describe to a stranger our feelings is not only difficult, but in most instances impossible.  I believe that is why we have such a difficult time explaining to anyone how sorry we are after hurting them, probably because our life experience has already taught us that getting our point across is mainly futile.  Yet we all know how important it is to hear it, to feel it, to be the receptor of an apology; without it we mostly feel lost in our hurt.  I doubt it that there could be a greater love manifestation than that which is revealed in true forgiveness.  It is the ultimate act of love, to truly forgive.

“I need you to know, even though these words will probably reach you when you have finally become a man, that I love you and forgive you my son.”

Dad

Sooner, rather than later...

When I look at the various flowers in my garden, I see so much variety that it amazes me how beauty can come in so many flavors.  The smells are wondrous and the colors are bright seeking the attention of birds and bees to easily find their way from far away in order to pollinate and spread their seeds at distances that otherwise would be impossible.  Nature has found a way to make things happen even though no actual sentient mental process is involved, no brain, no neurons, and no human intervention.  In this intricate and complex process of mindless procreation things happen only when they are supposed to happen.  The right season and weather conditions induce their bloom, which is entirely in tune with their survival and surrounding.  No creature has to contribute to making the plants the right color.  The plants themselves have everything they need encoded within them to entice their surrounding world to contribute to their well being.

Recently, my oldest son and I had a significant fallout, to put it mildly.  Just a few days earlier one of his close friends arrived at my home with his hands covered in blood after an argument at his parent’s house which ended in him putting his fist through a glass window.  As the young man walked into my home asking if he could use my bathroom to wash and heal his wounds, less than one minute later a deputy arrived because his parents had made a 911 call to report his aggressive behavior.  Patrol cars arrived, the teenage boy was cuffed, and in less than an hour the decision had been made to take him to a hospital to have him “evaluated.”  Later that same day, in an effort to show my support to my son and two of his friends, I offered that if they were in trouble because of using drugs like meth that I would gladly support their efforts in finding them the appropriate help.  I said nothing more, nothing less, and my words were heart filled with kindness and non judgmental.  In return, my son followed my comment a few minutes later with a barrage of insults via phone texting explicitly demanding that I stay out of their lives.  Removing much of the profanity, this is the content of his messages -

“SON: You are the biggest a-----e ever.  You don’t mention meth in front of rehabilitating tweekers like (name of other boy).  You don’t act like you have any f-----g clue, ANY F-----G CLUE, how to handle or to understand at all any part of the recovery process, you don’t attempt to muddle with people who are doing successful in their sobriety because THE VERY SECOND you stick your hands in you ruin our chances of happiness, our chances of living sober. We understand and are well enough acclimated with ourselves to coach ourselves through this process.  The moment an ignorant outsider like you tries to "help", which just means do whatever the f--k benefits you, is the same moment we find ourselves pushed towards an unhealthy decision, because admit it or not you have NO IDEA how our minds work or the way we view the world because as selfish and narcissist as you might be to admit, the universe is subjective and the purest fact is that you know NOTHING, that you can know NOTHING, I only know that I know nothing, Socrates, so every time you or anyone who knows nothing tries anything something bad always happens. We know how to keep each other sober. F--k, we're even going to an NA meeting tomorrow and we don’t have to. But the second you start judging, the second you start threatening, the second you intervene at all even in the tiniest way, is the second I want to give up everything I'm striving for just to spite your ignorance, the second I want to throw my life away just for the statement, the second I want to buy all the drugs I can even if I don’t want to.

DAD:  I agree, believe it or not...this is harder for me than you think and I just don't want you and your friends to get hurt.  I am scared of losing you to jail or worse, death.

SON:  I've needed to tell you this for a while: for god’s sake, STOP trying to intervene. I don't care what selfish reason you have, I don't care how it makes you feel or what it makes you think, because as blind as you are to it, those are ALL the most SELFISH and DISGUSTING reasons to feel anything or to think anything and every time I have to endure them it drives me farther and farther to choices I should not make AND I AM AT A POINT WHERE I DONT WANT TO MAKE THOSE CHOICES ANY MORE. So if you are just going to get mad and not listen then I am going to end up killing myself, either slowly with a drug or quickly with a jump, and I'm a rational person who wants neither so if you really love me and don’t just love yourself and use the delusion of loving me to feed your ego, then just STOP. Just f-----g stop because I'm tired and can’t take much more. That’s all I'm trying to say.

DAD: I truly agree...good night...I need to get some rest.”

The message was clear, it held in its content and tone the same bright colors that some reptiles wear as a warning for other creatures to stay clear of their venom.  Obviously my short words of agreement were an effort to diffuse his unexpected rage and allow him to say his peace without judgment.  In reality, I am not sure what to think of most of the content of his outburst.  It has taken me days to assimilate what in some places seem like hopeful words of someone that is wanting to get out of whatever trap they are in, and in others the unspoiled anger that could be brought out by insanity.  “Leave me alone, I don’t need your love, your help, and your intervention to become healthy again…” are the sharpest notes of this song.  “If you try to help, all that I will do is making things worse just to spite you…” is the chorus.  I could barely sleep that night trying to make sense of what at that moment seemed as some of the most hurtful words that my son had ever said to me.  Yet I knew that I had very little choice in the matter, so I found my place back in the arms of my solitude and prayers.

Nothing can prepare you for the things that are scheduled to happen in your life, but are totally out of your control.  One night afterwards, while requesting that he kept his loud behavior inside our home in order to not annoy the neighbors at 4:50 a.m., I found myself at the other end of a physically aggressive response which eventually led to calling the police to have him taken to be evaluated at a hospital, just as had happened to the other boy a few days before.  As the deputy asked me if I wanted to press charges of assault, I found myself under the proverbial rock of knowing that what I wanted and what he needed were two entirely different things.  I never answered the question which eventually led the deputy to call in another officer that specialized in teenage crisis situations.  The unfortunately familiar routine of handcuffs, the backseat of a patrol car, and the heart breaking experience of having my son taken away is something that I am unable to truly put into words.  For lack of a better description, imagine that an alien being had the power to reach into your chest and tightly squeeze your heart to no end, maybe this is what it really feels like, but I am not entirely sure.

As I went to visit him on one of the two daily one hour visiting opportunities, I calmly asked if he understood what he had done that got him hospitalized in the first place.  Immediately he replied that I had initiated the physical confrontation and that he had almost been released until the emergency room doctor decided to call me and ask me questions with regards to the event.  He claims to not remember being the aggressor.  No acknowledgement to taking off his shoe and throwing it unexpectedly to my face.  Worst of all, no real sign of feeling any remorse or guilt other than saying whatever words might allow him to be released.  One of the things he either denies or truly does not remember saying was a threat of getting a gun from a friend and shooting me.  I believe that this was actually the reason his mother decided to call the police after I had locked myself in my room and made an effort to explain to her what had happened over the phone.  At the moment I was confused, and hurt not only physically, but also emotionally.  The moment had crippled my ability to make any decision as to how to proceed.  In fact, when he had become violent, I had done something entirely not in my character by retreating instead of taking a physical stand.  Regardless of the physical injuries that even today, three days later, don’t allow me to use one of my hands, the worst part of the attack was that to my heart.  As corny or pathetic as it may sound, what hurts the most is my bruised heart from this encounter.

If nature has all of the encoding necessary to take care of itself, why is it that us humans posses so little power to influence what surrounds our lives in order to be well?  I constantly find myself struggling to understand the reason that drives so many people to inflict harm to others instead of help each other survive.  I can’t for the life of me see the point of so much unnecessary hurt and pain.  It is not as if I have neglected to keep my part of the deal with God, since I love my son unconditionally and without limits.  I pray that at some point in time all of this will make some kind of sense, because at this very moment it is far from clear to me why it has to happen in the first place.

Please do me a favor and pray for me and my son so that the super natural things that are supposed to happen to make us whole again, take place soon rather than later.

Dad

GO AWAY AND DON'T COME BACK!!!

There is a really good reason for which entertainment parks like Disneyland have all those safety features built into all of their rides. For example, the boarding gates will only open after the ride has come to a complete stop and the previous passengers have gotten off the ride. Also, there is a pretty safe distance between any fun seeking attendees and the moving vehicle to avoid anyone from losing a limb or their life by accident. While in line there are multiple signs warning us in advance of any risk we will be taking, minimum age and height requirements, health predispositions that could be aggravated, and all the rules we must follow in order to stay safe. Once we have boarded the ride the contraption will not continue until all of the participants and their belongings are all buckled and tucked into the proper place. Even with all of these precautions, as we board and get ready to go for the short ride, our heart rate increases anticipating the thrill of the moment about to come. Typically, less than 60 seconds later the ride is over and most of us are smiling about the excitement we experienced and how happy we are that we made it back in one piece. One of the reasons we do these things in the first place is because we feel confident that we will not get hurt. If we felt that our lives were in any real danger, chances are that we would not participate in such adventures in the first place.

Last year, around this same time of year my oldest son got himself into a bit of trouble for not taking our advice about staying home instead of trying to get to school when he finally decided to get out of bed. The story of this incident and all of the fallout is contained in a previous post, so I promise not to revisit the details again. However, there was one thing that I learned from that experience that I believe merits being addressed shortly today. As a parent, at the time I felt compelled to intervene in as many ways possible to try to help my boy get out of his predicament with the law, plus make sure that he was educated in many of the things he was doing wrong with his life by the choices he was making at the time. I have but a single regret from that past experience and it is that I should have taken more of a spectator position in my involvement rather than a participant. At the moment I thought that if I showed my full hearted support and made every effort to put myself into the equation, in the end he would be able to see how much I love him and want his life to be ok. The price I paid for my unwavering support was that in the end he mostly blamed me for all of his bad choices and decisions instead of taking responsibility for himself. In less than a day, I got on an emotional roller coaster to which I had absolutely no control over its path and found myself not being able to get off the ride until it came to a complete stop six months later. Worst of all, I got in without reading any of the warning signs, and had absolutely no clue as to what rules I needed to follow to stay safe and sound. By the time I was able to get out of this treacherous ride I felt pretty much like a rag doll that had been dragged around the yard by a cute but extremely hyperactive puppy which in the end simply dug a hole and buried me in hopes to conceal any evidence of my existence. You might feel that I exaggerate, but I am here to tell you that the above description is more than accurate and fair.

For the last two weeks I’ve found myself having to control my parental urges to get emotionally tangled in another crazy roller coaster ride that my oldest teenage son initiated after doing something really dumb on his part and getting in trouble again. This time, a whole different set of circumstances led him to do something similarly stupid which again has gotten him enrolled in the juvenile court system with a pending court date, a sure community service penalty, and a fine. I am not going to go into all of the current details, mostly because regardless of the crime the purpose of this post is not dwell on what I have no control over, but to share what seems to work instead. Ever since I got off the previous out of control ride I have been dreading when the next one would begin. Fortunately I still have a few remaining good neurons that allow me to learn from my mistakes, so I have decided to take a much more passive role in him recovering from his mistake.

I have learned that my oldest son’s wiring, probably just as most of ours is too, is not only different, but also fixed. Short from a brain transplant there is very little I can do about how he is wired. When something bad happens to him, the chaos that follows in his behavior is much different than many of us. To you or me, getting fined by a police officer for speeding will ruin our day, maybe our week. In the end though, we will accept our punishment and take note to try to avoid getting into any more trouble that will end up costing us more money. On the other hand, to him this same event would cause him to binge in all kinds of erratic and unproductive behavior escalating the simple act of getting a speeding ticket to eventually getting arrested. As far back as I can remember most of his behavior towards events to which he has become accustomed to be the same as everybody else. However, just as the neurological assessment that was conducted when he was much younger revealed, change does not come easy to him at all. When something breaks the pattern of normalcy in his life, it is as if at that very moment King Kong decided to sit in front of the doors that keep his self control abilities in check…good luck moving that fat ape out of the way! For this same reason, when he does something that gets him into trouble I have learned that it makes very little sense to drag the consequences out for long periods of time, since this only holds the doors open inviting more problems to come in. The longer the process inflicting consequences, the harder it is for him to adapt and get back to being in a healthy state of mind. Typically, I have discovered that doing everything possible to minimize any significant change in his life is key to maintaining a sense of normalcy amongst us.

GO AWAY AND DON’T COME BACK!!!, read the hand written note that he posted on the window of his bedroom facing the front of our home for everyone of his friends to read. I first noticed it as I was driving back home after work. The letters where all large, capital, and it was obvious that a dark black pen had been angrily used to etch them one by one, over and over again, to cover the entirety of a sideways white sheet of printer paper. The night before he arrived at home around eight at night and spent a good two hours driving me crazy while searching all over the house for his guitar capo to use with my guitar. Earlier that afternoon I had came home and found his five hundred dollar guitar laying on the family room floor in several pieces. Later that week he revealed that he had fallen back while playing outdoors on a patio chair and the still not totally paid by his mother instrument had found its demise when it flew out of his hands and hit the concrete floor. He seemed more like a caged animal wandering back and forth while searching everywhere for his music tool in places like the kitchen cabinets in which it obviously had no reason to be in. In one of these instances he walked into his already messy room and in less than a minute turned it completely upside down and non-livable. As he walked out of his room with a handful containing at least fifty sheets of paper of songs he had recently composed, he went into the dinning room and dropped them all on the floor and kept walking to go outside and search again in the backyard. It had been almost a week after the incident that got him into trouble in the first place, and the note on his bedroom window had been erected at the peak of his defiance and rage which had slowly found its way into affecting everyone around him. This time however, I already knew better to keep my fingers out of the initial wrath and avoid getting them squished by his erratic, compulsive, and reactive behavior. Just as I was calling his mother to ask her to please go buy him a guitar capo to replace the one that had been lost and was causing all of the momentary commotion, suddenly I heard the closest sound to peace coming out of a corner of the dining room area. A friend had showed up and somehow found the elusive guitar capo and now my son was sitting calmly playing a beautiful self composed melody on my guitar. He stayed locked inside his room for the next two days after the angry looking sign was displayed. Anxiety cruised through my body like it always does when I feel helpless towards saving him from his own pain, but nothing ever works and things only get worse when I try to intervene. Once the moment took its course I found him back in the family room watching TV when I got back from work and I offered food for which he initially rejected, but later discovered on his own to be a good idea. As I brought the source of nourishment he paused the TV waiting for me to leave him alone, but I took the single moment in time to offer just the simplest of comments. “I know you are going through a rough moment, I just want you to know that I am here for you if you need me,” I told him. He lifted his eyes to look into mine for the first time in almost over two weeks and simply said, “OK, bye!”

It has been over three weeks now and still I am not totally aware of the status of it all. The letter confirming his need to be in Juvenile court in a few months already arrived, but it makes absolutely no sense to bring it up to him again this far in advance since it would only serve to make things worse instead of better. The original furry of erratic behavior following the triggering incident has decreased in intensity just as if the roller coaster has been replaced from a ride you might call “Death Mountain” to a much tamer “Scary Mountain” instead. This time though, instead of getting on and not being able to get off at will and contrary to last year’s mistake, I am more like the guy guiding people on and off the ride safely. I have chosen to just ride once a day to make sure it is still safe, but then keep my feet on solid ground. After all, who will be there to pull on the brake handle if something goes really wrong? It is not like I can do that while sitting inside the ride, right? Still, I feel spent in a very short amount of time. It is as if the second time around just watching has many of the ill effects of riding during the first time around. There are many reasons to why I feel this way, one being that once you’ve done it, it is not easy to forget what it feels like, the other being that second hand smoke kills too. However, at least this way I am able to keep myself under control even if I am not able to do the same for my son.

Dad

Bouncing back...

I would like to ask a dear favor from all of the believers that read my blog, if too much time goes by and I have not posted anything in here please do a little prayer for me. It could be that the only reason that I have not written anything is because I suddenly had to depart of business travel, in which case I can always use your prayers for the simple request to make it back home safely. Another less likely reason could simply be that I finally kicked the bucket and am on my way to hopefully meet the Lord, in which case I believe that I could never have too many prayers to help me smoothen out any indecisions from saint Peter to allow me in. However, the most likely reason is typically tied to me falling into a moment of desperation and frustration with the parenting of my oldest son; in which case I totally could use your divine connections to help me get through the moment at hand.

As much as I would love to report that my absence has been due to a business trip, the truth is much less appealing. We all come to expect setbacks in our lives which will in one way or the other bring us back to that dreadful place of anxiety and despair. When the life experience is tied to a well needed moment of personal growth it is not uncommon for us to eventually get back off our knees, dust ourselves off, and keep charging forward. However, when the event that entangles our day has much less of an “I can beat this problem” flavor, recovery can take a much longer time. In the process I personally feel as if I am being hog tied to the back bumper of a truck and taken for a drag through some very nasty terrain. Unfortunately that is the nature of parenting a child that is not only wired mostly backwards from the rest, but also insists on trying to fix himself and refuses to accept advice, counsel, and any kind of treatment that might help from others including myself. It is a nasty business this crazy road dragging experience. Emotions run high and after a while I start to feel as if the little bit of faith that remains in my heart is the only thing that holds all of my parts together and keeps me from becoming totally unglued.

So here I sit tonight, writing the little bit that I am able to without really letting any of you in. It might sound totally unfair of my part to not share the chaos of the moment, yet I feel as if I have very little choice in the matter. This I do, not because I fear for myself, but mostly because I fear for anything that might be in our path. It is much easier to tell you about it later, when the handle of the pan is much cooler and easier to hold on to. I remember when I was going to college in Mississippi, one day driving back from a long day of classes and my part time job, and as I took the final turn realizing that an old beautiful southern home less than a tenth of a mile from my place had burned down to the ground. Just that morning the structure was intact as I drove on my way to school. How could it be that so much damage could have happened in such a short amount of time? I did not presence the raging fire that had obviously consumed all but the brick remains of a fireplace, but still it was totally obvious to me how devastating it must have all been while it was happening. Charred pieces of lumber revealed the incessant furry of the flames leaving smoking embers as its only evidence in the end. This is just the same with the path I find myself walking about in my life with my oldest son. At times the furry and devastation in his mind wreak havoc on everything that is close to him. Unfortunately I am probably the closest thing to him at almost any instant in his young wreck less life, which means that I am not left intact, much less undamaged emotionally. It takes me a while to recover, to recharge, to find a way to be normal again, but I always do in the end. As Joel Osteen would say, I have “bounce back power.” Just like the mighty palm trees bounce back after a hurricane, I too eventually find my way back to “looking good.” In the meantime, do a little prayer for me…I could really use some Divine intervention!

Dad

Reconciliation...

I walked into the coffee mess this morning at work, did my café mocha routine, and as I was almost walking out of the break room I heard one of the other guys in the area reply to the typical “How’s it going?” query from someone else in the room with an “I haven’t gotten fired yet, so all is well!...” reply. I know this individual’s answer was an intent to humor the inquiry with a clever answer, and just as I stepped out through the door the final part of his reply reached my ears “…but it’s just past six in the morning, so the day is still young!” Again, I know he was just joking, but his answer stuck with me and has really made me think whether this kind of humor could actually be revealing a sense of worry of impending doom from this particular individual and many others. How sad would it be to spend at least 40 hours a week, every week, with the mental anticipation that you might get fired? Yet, even though I make an effort to steer clear from spending any significant amount of time near anyone that walks around with this kind of negativity, unavoidably their presence is more common than not. I am of the idea that it makes very little sense to invite into your life any significant amount of negative energy regardless of its true intent, such as humor, if at all possible. Instead, I rather get up in the morning and tell myself that “today is going to be a great day” and that “anything bad will only come into my life with the intent of eventually opening the door to something better!” I believe that in the past I have made the mistake of allowing my own negativity to trigger incredibly unhealthy decisions on my part. This is a pattern that I have consciously decided to break which in return has allowed me to stir clear from making wrong choices and also made me a much happier individual.

Yesterday, in the midst of a cell phone conversation with my mom she mentioned that the thing that she misses the most from her days of being a teacher was her interaction with kids. Immediately I questioned her reason since I would have easily guessed that instead it should have been her interaction with other co-workers. Her reply was honest and to the point, “I miss how the kids always made me laugh with their stories…” she said. How clever of her to recognize that not all social interactions are to be missed. Instead she pointed out that it was more rewarding to share with the kids because they brought a level of joy and newness to her life that could not be found in many of the adult interactions. This is not to say that she did not miss her friends and co-workers; what she meant to say was that of all the things that she got out of being a teacher for over 45 years, the most fulfilling was being able to absorb the innocent positivity that came about sharing with younger people. It never ceases to amaze me how much I am still able to learn from my mother at my age. There is a clarity in her opinions that can only be effectively described as “soulful wisdom.” Her words have always brought clarity when I am having a hard time focusing on something that is in my mind. Other than during my ignorant teenage rebellious phase, I cannot remember a time in which I have ever questioned her insight into anything that is directly pertinent to my life. More importantly, I cannot recall any bad advice either. On the contrary, the sooner I accept and apply what she teaches me, the quicker I recover from my mistakes.

OK, back to surrounding yourself with the right kind of positive input in your life. Who would have thought that the social interaction of an adult with teenagers would hold more value than interacting with other adults? The first thing that crosses my mind is how much I might be wasting in the way of rewarding experiences when I trade any of the time I could be interacting with my own teenage children with others instead. Obviously, the role of a parent can be correlated in many ways to that of a teacher. However, we all know how hard it is to communicate with our own teenagers. The fact that my mother was able to share beautiful, funny, and rewarding experiences with so many of her teenage students is more of a tribute to her ability to bring down the barriers and walls that typically rise between generations. In contrast, I can clearly remember many of my middle and high school teachers of which I am sure that neither I nor any of my classmates would have ever considered sharing with socially. So in retrospect I can pretty much confirm that this success achieved by my mom as a teacher was much less related to her role as an educator, and much more because of her personality and behavior towards these young minds in the first place. With this discovery I then deduct that the same might be true for any of us as parents. We should be able to gain certain advantages in our social interaction with our children if we are able to bring to the relationships the right kind of personality and behavior too.

Obviously the role of a non parental adult with a young adult is not the same as that of a parent with their kids. I have worked hard to make sure that my children don’t just see me as any other grown up, but rather as an authority figure in their lives for many important reasons. In the first place, how effective of a parent would I be if my children thought of me in the same way that they do my next door neighbor? To follow, my credibility as a role model is being constantly scrutinized by my children because of how close we are interacting between each other on a daily basis. These critical differences in my parental role have created a kind of wall that first need to be climbed and crossed before I am able to reach my own children in the say way that my mother was able to reach her students. So what tools do I have in my parenting trunk for me to whip out and utilize in order to climb, cross, or break any barrier that might present itself when I want to succeed in my effort to have a better social interaction with my children? The answer is obvious to me because of my relationship with my own parents. The tool that has constantly kept me, even while I was a rebellious teenager, in harmony with my parents is love.

Probably the most complicated and yet well known and experienced emotion in any relationship, especially in parenting is love. I do not intend to spend a lot of time giving you advice about love, since in reality there are only a few things that you need to know that is truly useful. The rest would be mostly wasted, since I am sure that any and all of you have a great deal of personal experience on the subject of love. To delve in this amazingly wondrous personal subject assuming that I know any more than you would be ridiculous. However, I will point out something that might give you a bit of peace of mind when you find yourself wondering why you make many parenting decisions the way you do in the first place. What surprises me the most about love is its ability to alter my mental state of clarity and cloud my judgment so easily. Because of how much I love my children I have many times kicked myself for haven allowed or disallowed many behaviors and actions on the part of my boys. Yet it is for this same reason that love has the power to overcome just about any barrier or obstacle that is placed in the way of my interaction with them. In parenting, love adds the sweet taste of true reconciliation which adds itself in a very effective way after forgiveness. In other words, because I love my children, not only am I able to forgive their transgressions, but I am also able to accept them just the way they are and allow them to be completely back in my good graces in the end. Think about it, it is not the same to forgive yet stay hurt, than it is to absolve and regenerate the relationship to its original state again. This is truly a thing of beauty that is one hundred percent obvious to me with my children, just as it has always been with my own parents.

I have climbed over the wall, laughed so hard that my belly aches and I am sitting in a great place emotionally because my parents taught me the true value of loving, forgiving, and most of all forgetting the things that have ever hurt me. This is how I not only intend to live, but have decided to be true to myself and my children. I have seen life take away from others some of the most precious part of an individual’s heart. I don’t want to have to ever regret not giving my all to children, so for this reason I walk towards their brilliant lives, and never away from them. Maybe this way one day I will be able to say that the thing I miss the most in my older age is the joy that my kids brought into my life during the years I was a father.

Dad

Holding hands as we cross the street...

On October 6, 2009 I wrote a post titled “The Eye of the Storm.”   At the end of this post I wrote…

“I do want to leave you with a motive for my late night posting to share what I discovered tonight. In the middle of every hurricane there is a place of calm called the eye of the storm. The very nature of this tropical weather event creates a beautiful sense of calm filled with blue skies and calm. My grandfather used to tell me stories about how some people in the old days had no idea that what seemed as the end of the storm was actually the middle of it. Once the thirty or so minutes of peace were complete, the other side of the storm came back with a vengeance with winds just as strong and scary as the original ones, but this time in the opposite direction. Not being ready for this second run of chaos was always more damaging than the first part. I too am aware that I am currently in what seems as the eye of the storm. The difference is that I am actually utilizing this time, this in between chaos state to recharge and hopefully tie down the so easily flown away roof of my life. The only one that could change this from being what I am pretty sure it truly is would be God. In some what seemed to be random occasions the eye of the storm actually led to a less than devastating second part due to the storm actually losing its might because of how the centered mountains of the island had battled and weakened its strength. Who knows, maybe the few centered mountains in my life are large enough to have the same effect. Even better, maybe God has taken charge of this story and written a much deserved better ending for us all…”

Six months have transpired since I posted those comments and I feel obligated to make amends with my words.  Indeed, up to that moment the events that were taking place gave all the indications of the makings of a perfect storm.  Yet, as tough as things sometimes got between me and my son during the last six months, enough had already changed for it to never really go back to being as scary as it used to be.  I sit here today trying to figure out what exactly were the changes that took place that made things, if not ok, at least better between us.  Have I grown enough to handle our circumstances in a more productive and healthier way?  Has he made changes that are allowing us to close in the gap of understanding between us?  Maybe it is a mix of what we are both somehow doing that is working in our favor.  I personally don’t see that much of a difference in his behavior other than a bit more kindness on his end.  It is as if his harsh rebellious teenage attitude decided to be dunked in a barrel of honey.  I am still able to see through the transparent outer sweet coating what lies under it all, and it is apparent that not much has truly changed, but at least it doesn’t taste as bad while it’s going down and making it easier to swallow.  On my end, the biggest change that I have made in the past six months has been to give myself the luxury of letting go of many of the things which I have no control of, while trusting that God will somehow take care of it since I feel in many ways powerless to that effect.  This fundamental change has been extremely difficult on my end since it goes contrary to every one of my parental instincts which typically drive me to want to intervene and prevent anything bad from ever happening to my children.  However, I have learned that as altruistic as this attitude might seem, it does not necessarily work in favor of the results that I want to achieve as a parent.  Again, the theme of balance and living a centered life comes to mind, which obviously do not go in hand with being an obsessive parent.

As a parent I have much more choices than simply making rules and then trying to enforce them with my children.  Sometimes it seems that my parental role should mostly be geared around being a good role model, but I have also learned that doing this is not nearly enough either.  Role modeling is only as effective as my teenager’s ability to accept the role model behavior during his “my parents are dumb” years will allow him to in the first place.  Expert parenting advice almost always gives way to telling us that as parents our role is not to be our children’s friends, but rather their guides.  Have you ever tried to guide someone that does not like you?  To that matter, have you ever been guided by someone that you do not like?  Not an easy task, is it?  So in my mind, regardless of what the “experts” write in their not so humble opinions, I have to be “liked” to some degree by my children in order for them to want to follow my lead.  Obviously I am not talking about becoming their BFF (Best Friends Forever), even though in concept it does sound like I should almost be their best friend in order to reach them, but the reality is very different than the concept in itself.  I have learned instead that a reasonable middle ground is found when you are able to gain their respect.  I for one am much more willing to follow someone’s advice if I at least respect them in the first place.  Why then should my children be any different?  So I suppose that what follows for me to be an effective parent is to learn to be able to make rules and try to enforce them without losing my kid’s respect.  Also, I need to focus my role modeling efforts to take advantage of the things that they can easily admire, such as treating them with respect too.

This road of gaining mutual respect that I speak of above seems to be a significant key to gaining back some of the balance of power in my parent child relationship.  Obviously it is difficult for me to stay true to this concept in the midst of chaos, so I don’t expect to get it right all the time.  Once in a while I regress to my “help me God or I’m going to lose it” emotional state, yet these moments seem to be happening much farther apart in time.  These greater gaps in time between moments of frustration allow the tree of mutual respect to grow taller, stronger, and a bit more resilient to high winds and bad weather.  Even though it is pretty obvious that in a sense I have dodged the reverse powerful winds of the other side of the eye of the storm that started six months ago, I have no way of knowing how powerful or close by the next storm might be with my son.  For this reason most of all, I am trying to not just recharge myself, but also learn how to build our mutual respect to a more survivable level.

This might all seem totally irrelevant to many of you, since it is very likely that your children are wired in the same way as my youngest son is wired and these challenges that I speak of are totally unheard of in the first place.  Even so, there is really no reason to dismiss the importance of rooting much of your parenting on the concept of mutual respect.  However, for those of you that find my situation to be akin to yours, I highly recommend you take advantage of this lesson which I've had to learn the hard way.  The sooner you work on attaining a higher level of mutual respect with your children, the easier it will eventually be to have any kind of impact and influence on their teenage lives.  It might all sounds like "pie in the sky" talk, but I am here to tell you first hand that it matters much more than you can imagine.  "Well of course I should always aim to attain mutual respect with my children," you are telling yourself right now.  The challenge is not in just recognizing what you need to do to be an effective parent, the real challenge is in doing these things when it counts.  Myself, I have found it very difficult to bring my own feeling of entitlement for respect from my kids to a level that is at least equal to how much I show that I respect them too.  It's easy to make the mistake and assume that because they might be on the wrong path at any given moment that I can use that against them to make them feel less deserving of my respect.  I have learned this to be a huge mistake on my part, and all I have to do to recognize this is imagine them being disrespectful to me just because I make a mistake in my life.  If this were the case, none of us would be deserving of any respect ever, right?  Remember, the key is not just respect; it is “mutual respect” what I am aiming for in the first place.  I believe that the lesson that I teach them with my tolerance and forgiveness for their mistakes is the same lesson they will use when I don't get it always right too.  Try to keep in mind that these many times not so adorable creatures are mine and not just some stranger with whom I started a friendship a while back.  There are no refunds, no takesie backies, and no justified reason for me to divorce myself from my kids.  So I might as well learn what it is that I need to do to earn their respect so that we can find a way to be happy together.  Whatever I do about this will eventually be the role model they will look up to when they are raising their own children.  

I can still remember how I felt as a child while holding my parent's hand as we crossed a busy street.  I suppose this feeling safe came about because of how much I liked and trusted them in the first place.  Liking, trusting, respecting are all emotions that are somehow tied together in the same knot when we are speaking about family ties.  The stronger the like, trust, and respect, the tighter the knot that will keep your relationship with your children together.

Dad

Top 10 reasons you should not give up as a parent...

10. What else would you do with your free time?
  9. What else would you do with all your money?
  8. What else would you do with all your extra gas?
  7. Who would be left to challenge your never ending patience?
  6. It would take weeks to get used to being able to sleep all night straight again.
  5. Shopping at Costco or Sam's Club wouldn't make any sense.
  4. It would take forever to have a full load of clothes to do laundry.
  3. You would have to find a different hobby other than cleaning.
  2. What would you do with all those locks you bought for the medicine and liquor cabinet?
  1. You'd get bumped off the list to become a Saint after you were sooo close!

Dad

Just hold your breath, relax, and let yourself go...

Given the choice between sailing in smooth or rough waters, I am sure that most of us would pick the kinder and gentler option.  Yet every once in a while we all crave the adventure that comes from getting into a small boat and paddling down a river in which eventually the white water rapids will pump up our adrenaline levels and make us feel excited and alive.  This does not change the fact that while we are riding inside the wildest ride of our life, fear, anxiety, and confusion typically manage to overwhelm most of our senses.  However, there is something to be said about coming face to face with our fears and mortality that has the ability to teach us to appreciate in a more powerful way than ever our otherwise simple lives.

I remember once paddling down the beautiful Tuolumne River in a white water rafting expedition that my then wife and I joined with a group of friends.  The adventure could all be done in a single day for those that did not want to spend a night camping in the wilderness. However, we truly wanted to submerge ourselves in the whole experience instead.  The two day, one night outdoor adventure was my first taste of white water rafting that included a Category 5 portion named Clavey Falls.  Category 5 means that any harder than that and it cannot be done at all.  You need do this at least once in your life in order to appreciate the sense of overwhelming power that water possesses when nature creates these impressive rapids.  It is as if the water has a mind of its own and is able to do at will whatever it wants to you and your raft while traversing this portion of the river.

A few days before we took off on this trip, one of my co-workers and a participant of the planned vacation brought in the local newspaper with an article addressing exactly the same kind of adventure.  In the article there was quite a bit of advice and some definite warnings.  The writer was morbid enough to include a few statistics and stories of how many people get hurt and some even drown.  He explained how risky each of the categories was, and included quotes from individuals that had almost lost their lives in a similar adventure to ours.  After reading the article, my then wife and I looked at each other with owl eyes and wondered if we were doing the right thing or simply being too risky.  The trip had been planned months earlier and by the time we were having second thoughts, all of the expenses were non-refundable.  A few minutes of pondering and eventually we came to the same conclusion that we were not going to lose our four hundred dollar per person fee, and of course, we would be extra careful. 

In the article, one of the accounts read of an individual that when tossed overboard from the raft got sucked under water by what was called a whirlpool effect.  The rapid motion of water mixed with the right underground shape of the river sometimes creates an effect that is similar to what you see when you open the lid of your washing machine and the clothes that are on top get sucked down towards the bottom.  After struggling for a while and as the victim began to feel too tired and weak to get out of the water sucking whirlpool, he simply got pulled under towards the bottom of the river and eventually emerged a few tens of feet away in a much calmer place.  The victim recalled this anxious moment as if finally letting go and stopping the struggle to survive and accepting fate, whatever that would be in the end.  Finally, I remember the author of the article sharing the advice that if you ever found yourself sucked in by the whirlpool effects of the white water rapids, not to fight it since this would only be pointless and probably make you expend the required energy you would need to swim back into your raft afterwards.  Instead, the author wrote, you should just hold your breath, relax, and let yourself go.  Once the whirlpool has sucked you under it should then release you at a different location which hopefully will not be so turbulent, and you will be able to swim back to safety.  This is one of those lessons that most definitely can only come in handy if you know it before the fact and in advance.  Letting yourself be sucked in by the river in order to survive, goes contrary to your instincts.  Most of us would struggle against the current and probably lose the fight eventually and most likely drown.  But knowing this little bit of information could save our lives instead.

I can think of many moments in life that have similarities to the effects of being sucked in by a white water rapid whirlpool.  Sometimes I tend to get myself so tangled up in situations that the more I struggle to get myself out, the harder it seems for me to survive the moment in the end.  We've all been there as parents, opposing everything that our teenage kids do that from the go instinctively make the hair in the back of our necks stand up.  "Dad, I want a tattoo...it's only a piercing...everybody else drinks...smoking pot is not addictive...everybody else is going..." all are words that once you hear them coming out of your child's mouth the waters begin to rise and the powerful swirl starts its sucking act of dragging you into an argument.  Of course, as a parent you feel the responsibility of having to impose some kind of rule in hopes that in the end you will be able to enforce it.  However, most of your reaction is truly originated out of the same survival instinct that you would feel while swimming as hard as you can to get out of a whirlpool.  As a parent you know it is insane to simply accept the crazy requests of a 17 year old teenager asking permission to spend the night at another teenager's home without supervision.  So you stand your ground and do what comes natural and is reasonable, you simply say "No!"  For the next day or so the struggle continues since the child knows that he or she can eventually wear you down, because they are relentless, just like the water rapids.

I have learned to pick my battles sort to speak.  It is not that I will give in to the tireless efforts of the teenage voice that keeps nagging its request for some most impossible act.  I simply have learned that instead of struggling from the beginning, tiring myself almost to death, I make the point of addressing the issue once, and then walk away.  The child obviously knows that if he persists he will have power to try to wear me down, so of course he pursues with his efforts.  The true lesson comes in what I do next, which is pretty much the same as getting me out of a sucking whirlpool in the middle of a raging white water rapid.  I just get the air I will need to survive, relax, and let myself go.  No more fighting, no more arguing, and definitely no more allowing the moment to cause excessive anxiety, stress, or worries.  The only difference from the advice given by the author of the aforementioned article is that I also do what most of you might guess...I say a little prayer too.  As I struggle to not allow my instincts to kick in and put me on a totally defensive posture, I close my eyes and pray..."God, Bless this child that I want so badly to yell at!  Keep me sane in this moment of anger and frustration.  I know I can be much more effective as a father here, than from prison...Amen."

The act of letting go of what is pulling me down into moments of frustration, anger, and pain can be truly empowering and liberating.  Instead of fighting every battle, I have decided to allow God to take on some of the biggies for me.  I cannot make my oldest teenage son change any reckless or dangerous behavior on my own.  As far as I can tell, this task requires supernatural powers which I do not posses.  I for one am not a superhero and lack mind altering abilities.  I can take care of him to the best of my abilities, but I cannot make him think in any particular way.  I know that God is working in the background making things happen as they need to happen for him to eventually learn whatever lessons he must learn to become what he is destined to become, a great man.  If you are not a believer, and more so if you are an atheist, it probably crosses your mind that this is a total copout on my end.  To be honest with you, I can live with that assessment on your part without a worry in the world because in the end, I am the one that has to handle the situation and not you.  On the other hand, if you have any kind of higher power belief system and you find yourself in circumstances similar to mine, where your struggles have worn you down and pretty much sucked the life out of you, I suggest you also find a way to get the air you need to survive, relax, and let God take care of the parts that are way out of your hands too.  All I can say is what good can come out of not being able to survive the struggle?  Will you have the strength, the energy needed when the time comes for you to swim back on to the boat to continue your ride down the river of your life?  What sense does it actually make to struggle against something as powerful and that is truly and mostly out of your hands?

I don't want to get all preachy, but I do want to make sure you understand that as long as you believe that God can take care of your needs, you might as well give him those needs that are truly beyond your abilities and control.  After all, what would you have to lose?  I am not talking about being lazy and expecting God's blessings without doing your job, not at all.  You do have the responsibility to do your part, and I am pretty sure you know what that means.  If you already know that swimming against the current will not solve the problems in your life, becoming a martyr in the process seems pretty silly.  I might not understand how it is that God will fix my child in the end, but I do know that it will be exactly as it should be and that my job is not to know how, but to trust in Him.

From the early days of my life as a child and later on as a teenager, the one consistent and unwavering Truth in my life has always been that God has never forsaken me.  What actually surprises me the most about me is how as soon as my life became stable and rewarding, that was the moments in which I decided to backtrack in my faith and give less credit to my faith.  Science ruled my mind and managed to give me answers to my questions allowing me to be less reliant on God for answers.  However, there is no doubt that the less I prayed and the farther I walked away from the spiritual part of my life, the hollower the answers that I discovered via science became in the end.  I am by far one of the most skeptical men you will ever meet, attributing almost everything that happens in my life to logical reasoning and probabilities.  Yet I have also grown to develop an amazing sense of reasoning that is able to find answers not only in what I am able to measure, but also in what I am able to feel.  For example, I challenge you to sit down and figure out the mathematical probability of finding true love.  I can imagine that a formula could be generated with a plus and minus percentile of accuracy based on your personal preferences, belief system, the number of individuals that might meet your unique likes and dislikes within the age range that would make them most compatible with yourself, chances of meeting them randomly or by presentation, geographic location, marital status, and at least twenty more significant factors.  In the end and once you have plugged in all the data and made your calculations, a statistical value can be generated that will tell you what are the chances of you finding true love.  Yet, chances, probabilities, and odds mean absolutely nothing unless you yourself go out into the world and seek true love, give it a chance, take the risk, and open yourself to the possibility of experiencing it in your life.  The emotional exposure that you give to your life will magnify the chances that any scientific probability might suggest possible.  In this same way I feel that making yourself accessible to the grace of God works towards your spiritual well being.  Even if God surrounds you with all of His love, compassion, and blessings, you too have to go out into the world and seek Him, give him a chance, take the risk, and open yourself to the possibility of experiencing Him in your life in order to partake of His blessings.

Just as within myself I am able to find the connection that God's supernatural intervention is key to bringing the best out of my own children, you too can enlist His grace to bring to pass the secret desires that are inside of your mind and heart.  Don't waste your time struggling against the life sucking whirlpools in which you tend to fall into when things get tough.  The sooner you realize that if you hold your breath, relax, and let yourself go eventually you will emerge in a much better place where the waters are much calmer for you to get back on the boat that is your life.  A lot of what you have been fighting for is truly out of your hands.  Spend your energy and efforts on what you have true influence over and leave the rest to God.

Dad

Getsemani...

How could I get myself into any real trouble if my mind was typically full of ideas that required long hours of planning and later executing?  Somehow, at the age of 16, I had been able to convince my high school principal to give me money to go on my own to the hardware store and purchase six electric light dimmer switches, four regular light switches, twelve color flood lights, 9 spot lights, adjustable light fixtures, spools of wire, plugs, insulating tape, soldering materials, and a few other things that I would be using to build the switch board and the stage 21 lights for our production of Jesus Christ Superstar.  For days I had worked on the design, dreaming up color schemes, placement on stage, and trying to figure out how much of everything I would need to create the effects I had envisioned in my mind.  The selection of materials at the hardware store was limited, so afterwards I still needed to modify my ideas to conform to the reality of what I was able to purchase.  In the end, I converted a classroom pupil desk that was donated by the school into the control panel for every light on the stage of our high school production.

As much as I also wanted to be the creative hands flipping the switches, dimming the lights, and controlling all of the light effects that I had created for the musical play, I was forced to train and delegate the job to a classmate because of other responsibilities that fell upon me.  You see, by the time I was 14 years old, genetics and hormones had covered my face with a full grown beard.  So by the time I was 16, nobody else in my class was actually better suited to play the role of Jesus without having to wear a fake beard instead.  Anyway, after all, I had already memorized part of the dialog of the role of Jesus in order to perform it during my performance in a speech competition for which I was fortunate enough to win the first prize just a few weeks earlier.  After spending the two previous years competing in the "Original" speech category, I finally decided to give it a try in the "Drama" category instead.  For this effort I borrowed the Jesus Christ Superstar album from a friend of my sister, made copies of the lyrics booklet, redacted the scenes of the trial before Pilate and the crucifixion, and set myself to the task of memorizing and practicing my acting for days on end.  Somehow, after winning the competition among all the participating schools, my classmates all got caught up in the moment and decided to turn the one man show into an entire class production instead.

I have never been able to put in half of me into anything of which I felt that I could put in all of my effort instead.  Soon I found myself dreaming up light effects, so I had to build the control box to make it happen.  Then I dreamed about how to be able to hold the cross in place during the play, so I went about for days building the cross and all of the attachments and gadgets to keep me and it safely in place.  Even the crown of thorns had to be perfect, so I spent hours weaving a crown made of long skinny branches of thorned "trinitarias" and then removing all of the thorns that aimed themselves inwards to avoid getting pricked.  An old white bed sheet was all my aunt that lived next door really needed to make the outfit, since she had always been a wizard at sewing just about anything I needed.  I do not recount any of this to brag since in essence this stuff came natural to me and anything less would have been abnormal behavior.  Yet now as an adult I look back in time and am still amazed that any adult actually trusted me in doing all these things without supervision or guidance.  I think that if I suddenly found out that my son was about to wire up 21 lights for a school production, first I would probably faint from amazement, but then after I would wake up from my head having hit the deck I would definitely want to see what he was up to in hopes of keeping anyone from getting electrocuted in the process.  Now that I look back at it all it truly amazes me that I was able to survive my own crazy inventions and adventures!

A few weeks back I took a chance and purchased some pretty expensive theater tickets hoping that my oldest son would want to go with me to see the Broadway production of Jesus Christ Superstar in the newly renovated Fox Theater in Riverside, California.  Ted Neely was 33 years old when he first played the role of Jesus in Broadway, and later on also in the movie.  Friday night, Good Friday, this beautiful rock opera musical was once again brought back to life with a now 66 year old Ted Neely playing the role of Christ.  Years back, when my son was only 10 years old I bought some college theater tickets to take him to see this play and to my surprise he loved it.  Now, at the age of 17, I had prayed for days that God would bless him into wanting to go see it again with me.  The challenge was not so much that he would want to go, since I already knew that he liked the play, the real challenge was that he would make himself available and not back out at the last minute making me waste the cost of his front row seat.  In an act of true faith, I bought his ticket without even asking my son if he wanted to go, and then every day, several times a day; I told God how grateful I was that He was making sure that my son would go with me.  In my heart, even though I can see his lips move and hear the words coming out of his mouth saying things that are in line with an atheist, I have no doubt that God is working in supernatural ways to touch his heart.  All I wanted to do by having him attend the musical with me was to plant another seed in his mind, heart, and soul of the same experiences that changed my own life as a young man.  I cannot change him; make him into anything that he does not want to be.  In fact, I do not want to change him and make him into anything he does not want to be.  That is not my job as his father.  If I would set my goals to such high standards, why would I need God in my life anyway?  Instead I'll settle for trying my best to be a good influence, a positive role, and a dependable source of hope in his life.

After a few tense moments of one of his female friends arriving at our home crying for reasons that only they were privy to, and at our agreed time of departure, the young man with the long dark hair, psychedelic shoes, purple jeans, black trench coat, interesting but needless Johnny Depp eyeglasses, and black fedora hat boarded my car.  At that exact moment I sighed and made a silent prayer thanking God for keeping His end of the deal.  The play was nothing short of beautiful and marvelous.  Other than getting up at the beginning of the second act and missing three of the songs to go answer a phone call from the still apparently distressed female friend, my son behaved in his own unique and typical fashion, which pleased me to no end.  On our way out of the theater and back to the car I told him that he had missed the song "Getsemani" when he left to answer his phone.  Immediately he replied, "Oh, then I will just have to sing it..." for which he then began to sing from memory and out loud the entire song from beginning to end without a care in the world of who might be around him during this impulsive act of joy.  Yes, he was right, he actually had not missed anything at all since that particular song, also being his favorite, had already been saved inside his amazingly powerful and beautiful mind.

There must be a reason for which when I was 16 years old my life took a path that overwhelmingly consumed my every thought in order to memorize the lines of the first musical that Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Weber produced on the professional stage.  In this same way I believe that there must be a reason for which my son has already memorized the song of "Getsemani" without much ryhm or reason, since he has never been involved in any acting and very much not a religious individual.  To many, this might all just seem as pure coincidences.  To me, however, it is much more than happen stance and random acts of events.  I know that one day, when my son is having to deal with his own parenting challenges he will transport himself to these shared moments between us and find answers in some of these experiences.  It might turn out to be the blind act of faith of his father buying a ticket not even knowing if he would agree to go, or the willingness to accept him just as he is regardless of my own beliefs and the difficulties that lay in between our differences.  Maybe it will be something as simple of him realizing how much joy a father can get from sharing special moments with his children.  Regardless of the final outcome, and the fact that Ted Neely can definitely sing "Getsemani" much better than my son, a deal is a deal, I bought the tickets, God got him to go, and life was good!

Dad