I Killed Santa

Disclaimer – To be safe, if you under the age of 12 please don’t read this.  Or at least, get your parents permission first.  And you really shouldn’t be on the internet without your parents permission anyway.  And don’t do drugs and stay in school.

“I just want you to tell me the truth!”

“Mom – just tell me the truth!”

“I know he’s not real … just tell me.”

These were just a few things my son Evan said to my wife Julie the other night.  More like passionately pleaded to my wife Julie.  She said he almost had tears in his eyes.

Within the Christian community, I know there are some people who are anti-Santa.  After all, you play Scrabble with his name and you get “Satan”.  And most axe-murderers will tell you that their path to destruction all started because they were led to believe in Santa.

As you can probably tell, I’m not in the anti-Santa crowd.  But I do respect those who choose not to include St. Nick in their celebrations.  And my point in this blog is to not debate or sway you one or other, anyway.  My point is that I grew up with Santa, Julie did, too.  We haven’t had a faith crisis as a result of believing in Santa.  We never had trust issues with our parents because they “lied” to us about the fat guy in the red suit and white beard.  Again, that’s an argument someone else can have.

At some point you stop believing.  I honestly can’t remember when or how this happened with me.  I know it was relatively early in my life – maybe 2nd or 3rd grade?  But it obviously was not traumatic, because I have no emotional scars.  I’ve heard stories from other people that learning that Santa and the reindeer don’t actually bring the presents was a very difficult thing.

With both our kids, we always knew that with each year it could be the last year for Santa.  If you’ve done the Santa thing – you know it’s fun.  What’s not to love about lying to your kids and deceiving ‘em?  Am I right or am I right?  (that was sarcasm, by the way).

Evan is 11.  For the last few years we kind of figured he “knew”, but was playing along.  He’s asked questions for a few years now.  Usually, Julie was the lucky one to be on the receiving end of those questions.  To add a a degree of difficulty to the questions, he would ask in front of his younger sister – who couldn’t believe more in Santa if she were an elf!

His interrogation of Julie the other night was the latest inquisition.  In the past, Julie would typically reply to him, “Well, what do you think?”  He typically said he thought he was real or he wasn’t sure, but he rarely pushed it.

The other night was different.  Julie said there was an urgency.  She said it was his direct request to know “the truth” that killed her.  With Olivia present, she said that they could talk about it another time.  But in Julie’s eyes and heart – it was time.

That’s where Dad came in, AKA – “Santa Killer”.  When I got home from work, Julie said, “You have to tell him.  He was drilling me with questions last night in front of Olivia.  When he gets home from school, you should tell him.”

Given that he is 11.  Given that I’m sure the majority of his classmates “don’t believe”.  Given his line of questions, I figured there might be some disappointment, but mostly a shrug of his shoulders, like – “I kind of figured.”

What happened?  Well, it was like I killed Santa.  It hurt and it hurt bad!!!!

“I really didn’t want to know!!”

“So he’s not real?”

“That was my favorite part of Christmas!”

“I’ve ruined Christmas!  I wish I wasn’t so curious!”

For a few hours (yes, hours) there was some mourning.  There was crying.  There was a sense of loss.  And if I could’ve taken it all back, I would have.  It was heartbreaking.

Like a lot of things in life – we know, but we really don’t want to know.  We thought he wanted confirmation that Santa wasn’t real; instead he wanted reassurance that he was.  Because if we told him Santa was real, it was okay for him to still believe and enjoy the magic of Santa.

Because Santa is fun.  There is something fun about the fairytale aspect to it.  It’s fun for kids, but it’s fun for parents too.  And so that’s why we also dreaded the day of no more Santa.  That’s why there was a sense of loss for us, too.  We know it’s just a matter of time before Olivia joins this club, too.

But here’s the cool thing Santa-haters … it did also provide an opportunity.  Julie, the brains of the operation, swooped in when I was at a loss for words and reminded Evan – that Santa and Christmas trees and presents and reindeer are all fun, but Christmas has been and always will be about Jesus.  That will never change.  And we just don’t celebrate Him for a day or for a season.

So the other “stuff” of Christmas is fun.  And yes, it can get out of balance or distract us.  But the reality is we do things everyday that have the potential to get us out of balance or distract us – it doesn’t necessarily make those things bad. Birthday parties, movies, TV shows, people, work … everything … can take our focus off of Christ, but chances are you’ll still do those things.  And that’s okay, unless they do take you some place you shouldn’t be.

As corny as it sounds, we really do need to “celebrate” Jesus everyday of our lives

Side-note for anyone who will ever have the “Santa talk” – having this kind of conversation is kind of like breaking up with someone.  You really should prepare for anything.  Will they take it well and be fine with just being friends?  Or will they go completely psycho on you?  You should be ready for both … just in case.  Um, yeah.  We thought a shrug … it was more like weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Oh … and think timing, too.  I’m guessing this would have been an easier and better conversation if this happened on December 26th … or July 26th … or if someone else told him.  You know, hear it on the streets.  That’s what I’m planning on when it comes to the “birds and bees” conversation.  I’m kidding.  That actually might be an easier conversation, though.

Just Relax

How many times have you heard yourself saying a variation of the phrase, “When things slow down I’ll finally be able to (fill in the blank)”?

If you haven’t figured this out by now – and I apologize if I burst any bubbles here – things never slow down.  Oh, there may be variations of busyness, but typically we are all busy people.

We are not only busy, but we have a tendency to fill our time with more things than we used to, plus we have more things that can pre-occupy our time, too.

We live in a world so busy that we say things like, “I need to catch up on watching my favorite TV show.”  Think about that.  So busy that something that should be done for leisure, becomes a task to stay up on.  Even relaxing has become a bit of a chore and something to be squeezed in.

Kids don’t have a problem with this.  My son Evan seems to worry about how much he can play.  He talks about getting up early so he can play more.  He asks how much time we have before we have to go to church so that he can get in some playing.  The other day he was happy that his little league game ended earlier than expected, because now he could go home and play.  Apparently, the 3 hours of playing baseball got in the way of playing football with his friends.

While not at the frenetic playing pace of her brother, my daughter Olivia knows how to relax.  Last spring, she counted down the days until the end of school in anticipation to what she said was getting back to her “regular life.”  Not school.  ”Regular life” meant playing and relaxing.

Even our dog gets it – except it’s sleeping.  I believe he takes naps to recover from napping.  Often times, he looks plain exhausted and I wonder if laying around on the couch all day wore him out?

My wife is nothing like our dog (do I seriously know how to sweet talk my lady or what?).  Julie is forever busy.  I believe she feels guilty if she’s not busy and doing something productive.  The kind of person that is so busy and productive that you feel like you are a sloth in comparison.  I have to remind her that it’s okay for her to sit on the couch and do nothing.  That she has permission to relax.

Our schedules and lives can be consuming.  I mean, have you ever thought about your week ahead of you and started freaking out?  Kid’s activities, family obligations, work, church stuff, things that need to get done around the house, shopping, etc.  How many of you just had a minor panic attack at that list?

It can be overwhelming.  I get it.  Yet, the things that can help the most – sleeping, relaxing, playing – are the things we generally don’t have time for.

I can’t say I have a clear cut answer how to get there, because I’m in the same boat.

Maybe we can be more like kids.  Heck, maybe someday I’ll even compare you to my dog.

 

Be Grateful

My church is doing something called “The Strong Journey”.  A number of churches across the country are also doing it now, too.  It’s a six-week series intended to strengthen your faith.  You may have guessed that from the “strong” part of “Strong Journey.”

In addition to the Sunday services and small group “Home Team” meetings during the week, you are given a set of challenges each week to do and then journal about them.  Today’s challenge – “Be Grateful”.  I was instructed to do the following:

“Make a list in your journal of at least ten things for which you are grateful.  Whether it’s a vintage motorcycle or your mom’s hugs, write a one-line thank-you note to God for each of these sweet blessings.”

Here’s what I wrote in my journal today …

1) Julie – I’m so grateful for my beautiful wife, who is my best friend.  You love and support me unconditionally.

2) Evan – Thank you for Evan and his passion for life.  And while we share many of the same interests, let me learn and be inspired by our differences.

3) Olivia – You are the apple of my eye.  Your smile and laugh light up my life.  I see so much of me in you and want nothing but the best for you.

4) My parents/family – I’m thankful for growing up in a home with so much love and joy.  I’m thankful for the continued support of my dreams.

5) My church – I’m thankful for finding a church I feel that I share the same DNA with.  That is filled with biblical truth and compassion.  That is inviting to everyone to “come as you are.”

6) My job – For God’s provision and the ability to work at a job that I love and with people who I love and respect.  And humbled by the opportunities God gives me each day.

7) My home – Blessed to have shelter and a lovely home to share with others.

8) Friends – People who bring me joy and who have been there for me on my hardest days.

9) Sports – For being such a fun diversion for me and something that I can share with friends and family.

10) Laughter/Silliness – I’m thankful for mindless, silly humor.

 

I’m sure others have done lists similar to this, but this is the first time I can recall truly writing these things down.  At first it sounded a bit like homework, but I was surprised at how easy it was for me to come up with these things.  That’s probably a good sign.

So what are you grateful for?  Whether it’s simple or big things, I encourage you to take a moment this week to jot down ten things you are grateful for. Often times its so easy to lean towards the negative, but this “homework” will give you an opportunity to reflect on how much you have to be thankful and grateful for … and I’m going to bet it’s more than just ten things, too.

Far From the Worst …

For the third time this month, I’m on the road.  I started the month in California.  I then took a trip to Florida.  This week … Tahiti?  New Zealand? Kankakee?  Yes, Kankakee, Illinois … naturally.

Over the next few days I’ll be “pledge driving” for Shine.fm in Kankakee (well, technically Bourbonnais … but Kankakee is so much more fun to say).

I spent a decent chunk of my life in this area.  I went to school at Olivet Nazarene University in Bourbonnais.  I liked it so much, I spent 6 years there!  About a month into our marriage, Julie and I moved to Kankakee.  It was our first home and we lived there for about 3 years.  It was during that time Kankakee was deemed “the worst city in America”!  Although, I don’t think us living there factored into that?

I’m not sure how that was exactly determined?  I think the economy, crime, schools, etc played into it.  I wasn’t crazy about the town, but I don’t think it was the “worst city in America”?  I mean, I was frustrated that I couldn’t find a decent dry cleaner or place to get my haircut … but the worst … nah!  Did it have relatively high murder rate per capita?  Sure, but let’s not nitpick …

There’s the Kankakee River.  Some good hot dog places. Olivet Nazarene University is a beautiful campus.  And there is a buffet place called “Coyote Canyon”!  C’mon!  Wouldn’t you want to eat a steak from a place with “coyote” in it’s name?

David Letterman, at the time, actually had some fun with Kankakee being named the worst city in America to live.  He did a “Top Ten” list about the city, interviewed the Mayor and gave not one, but two gazebos to the city.  He said Kankakee could promote itself as “home of the world famous twin gazebos”.  I don’t think that slogan ever caught on.

It’s been over 10 years since I lived here.  I drove by my old house and the hospital my son was born in.  I went to the mall where I worked at in college (Camelot Music – selling CD’s … remember stores that sold CD’s?).  In many ways, the area hasn’t changed.  Coyote Canyon is still there (full disclosure – I’ve never ate there).  So is the river and hot dog places.

But in other ways it has changed.  It’s grown with new businesses that have popped up over the years.  New homes and new neighborhoods. The Chicago Bears now hold their summer training camp at Olivet (and the campus looks better than ever).

It has gotten better with age.  It’s bigger and nicer … and so far, I haven’t been murdered.

Evan at Eleven

I’m sitting here looking at my son play with some of his birthday presents.  Evan turned 11 today.

Eleven amazing years that have flown by.  I can remember 11 years and one day ago when Julie first started feeling contractions.  To pass the time until the contractions warranted going to the hospital, we went out to dinner.  Afterwards, we went to the mall – I needed to buy some shoes.  I remember thinking that I needed to buy these shoes tonight, because after having a child I could never justify buying something for myself again.  Sounds extreme, but in some ways it was accurate.

When you get married you have to adjust to life not just being about you.  Having a child takes it to a whole new level.  There’s that overwhelming feeling of having this little life that is completely dependent on you.

I heard someone the other day talking about the need to enjoy life before having kids, because once you do, you won’t be able to do anything for yourself until they graduate college and are on their own.  The implication is that it’s a bad thing.  But the majority of people who have kids, would say the joys outweigh any “inconvenience” of not being able to do what you want, when you want.

Any empty-nester will tell you to enjoy this time, because it does go fast.  There are days when it definitely doesn’t feel that way. But when I see how quickly these 11 years went, I get it.  In another 11 years, he’ll most likely be graduating from college and ready to start his “life”.  But when I even look at the years in between now and then, I realize how little time there is to soak this in.  He’ll be a teenager before you know it … driving and the freedom that comes with that … hanging with friends will become a lot more fun than hanging with mom and dad … and then off to college.

Sheesh!  I’ve managed to depress myself!

As I look at him, my heart just bursts with happiness.  He’s an amazing kid, who truly is one of a kind.  He’s tender-hearted, yet all boy.

He gets his great looks from his mother.  I’m sure his intelligence, too.  And he can talk (another trait he gets from his mom). I can remember one of his first report cards that was great, with the only “negative” being he tends to “socialize” a lot in class.

He gets his love of sports from me.  I love the fact we can watch and play sports together and how he seems to check espn.com every morning when he wakes up.

I love the way he loves his little sister Olivia and how the two of them are like best friends.  They genuinely like to play and laugh together.

I think the thing that I love the most about him is his zest for life.  He never does anything half way.  He soaks in every moment of every thing he does.  And everything he does, becomes an event.  As a toddler, it wasn’t enough for Julie to simply take him on a walk – he had to take snacks and supplies.  There’s no such thing as simple football game with his friends in the neighborhood.  You need to wear a jersey, have team names, keep stats and make brackets for a tournament.

He has taught me a lot. I want to live with that same kind of zest when it comes to being his dad.  To not parent half way.  And to soak in every moment.

When he was born, I remember saying, “Baby Evan, sent from Heaven.”  And it’s true.

Baby Evan, sent from Heaven is now eleven.  Happy Birthday Evan!  I’m proud to be your dad.

You are an amazing boy, that has made me a better man.

I’m Not Going to Pay A Lot For These Axles!!

Remember those old TV commercials where the people would yell, “I’m not going to pay a lot for this muffler!”?  Maybe not.  It was no “Don’t squeeze the Charmin” or “Where’s the Beef”, but it resonated with me.  I can relate to that angst when it comes to dealing with my car.

I’m the guy who spent like 6 hours trying to repair my car antennae – “trying” being the key word – only to not get it done and nearly trapping myself in the trunk in the process.  So with my lack of mechanical expertise, going to get my car fixed can be stressful.  I always fear that I’ll be ripped off.

I remember a time when Julie went and got the oil changed in her car.  A day later, she said the sensor on her car was saying she was out of oil.  I was infuriated.  I was sure they didn’t actually put oil in her car and ripped her off.  I’m mild-mannered, but the thought of being cheated and my wife being taken advantaged of, drives me crazy.

The logical thing would have been to check it myself.  Yes, that would have been logical.  I instead drove my wife’s car back to the oil change place to defend my wife’s honor … or something like that.  I entered the place and went right to the desk and as firm as I can be (I’m sure I was much tougher in my mind) I said, “My wife brought her car in her the other day and you didn’t put any oil in it!”  That elicited a raised eyebrow from the guy at the counter.  After more tough talk from me (I was fired up … in my mind), he brought the car back into the garage.

I watched the guys like a hawk!  Nobody is going to rip me off.  Don’t try to sneaking some oil in there now.  I saw guys talking.  A few minutes later the guy came out and said there is oil in there.  Totally new and full.  ”What?  No way!”  Yep, apparently they didn’t reset some sensor and it was showing low oil pressure. Well, never mind then.

Oh yeah, I could never show my face there again.  We had to go find some other place to get our oil changed. I’m sure for years they told the story of the irate dork who accused them of not putting oil in their car – like it was some big conspiracy.

Needless to say, I’m leery.

So the other day I took my car into have some repairs that I have been putting off for like 2 years!  I needed to replace my front axles.  Seems like it’s a pretty important thing, but what do I know?  I had two estimates in the past for this issue, but it was always expensive and I always had something even more pressing to be fixed.

A friend recommended this mechanic, so that gave me some comfort. When I got there, I noticed the car repair shop also sold fresh eggs. Seriously.  There was a sign in the window that said “Fresh Eggs”.  They also had a cage with rabbits.  Rabbits?  Eggs?  I may have stumbled across the Easter Bunny’s day job.

Dave, the guy who owned the place, couldn’t have been nicer.  When I told them what other mechanics advised, he said there might be an easier, less expensive fix but that he would check it out.  I liked how upfront Dave was. He seemed genuine and honest.  Feeling comfortable, I mentioned my car antennae fiasco.  He said he could fix that too and told me not to feel bad about not being able to fix it.  Dave said that’s a two-man job – which is like 1 1/2 more than me!

He not only replaced my axles and fixed my car antennae, but the prices of both jobs combined was $100 less than what the other places quoted me for just the axle job!  Honest and fairly priced! Maybe this place is really the home of the Easter Bunny?!

You Might Cut Your Feet Off

I once uttered, “Maybe getting a mini-van might not  be such a bad idea.”  I remember thinking – “What have I become?”  When did that become a good idea?  I vowed never to get a mini-van and now I was not only thinking about it, but verbalizing it.

It’s all about having kids, right?  When you become a parent you say all sorts of things you swore you’d never say …

“Don’t make me turn this car around”

“Because I said so, that’s why!”

“If everybody jumped off a cliff, would you?”

Then there are those things you never even imagined saying.  All sorts of bizarro things.

“Don’t write on your sister.”

“Get your butt off of his face.”

“Don’t stick cookies up your nose.”

God bless my son Evan.  He actually asked if he could mow the lawn tonight.  I know someday he’ll be a teenager and I will wish for him to ask me that!  But he’s ten now and it’s dangerous.  When I said he couldn’t do it by himself and he asked why, I replied “Because that’s how kids cut their feet off.”  Wow, I’m really a parent now!

How about you?  What’s come out of your mouth that you never thought you would say?

 

Selfishness: A Work in Progress

Was it Socrates or the band Whitesnake that said, “Here I go again on my own”?  It was Whitesnake, silly.  Socrates I think said, “I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy”.  Anyway, the Whitesnake song crossed my mind because here I am again traveling by myself. Last week in California; this week in Florida.

There was a time when traveling for work didn’t bother me so much.  A little time to yourself can be nice, I admit.  And a trip like this – a conference at Disney World where I get so see a lot of old friends is cool too.   But I find myself not liking going away as much as I used too.  I start dreading them before I go.  I miss my family.

Missing your family when you are away from them, I know, is a normal thing.  But I seem to miss them more these days.  I don’t know if its because I miss out on spending time with them, missing ballgames, seeing their faces.  Or I realize how my kids are growing up so fast and I don’t want to miss a thing (Aerosmith lyrics, right?).  A different take, but accurate take ,could come down to being less selfish.

God really shook me up a couple of years ago.  I tell people I feel like He hunted me down and forced me to confront issues in my life.  Bottom line was that I wasn’t happy with the person I was becoming.  I wasn’t the husband or father I knew I should be, either.  And if you were to really break down most “issues” we have in life, generally it comes down to being selfish.

Now outwardly, I don’t know if you would have seen me as the stereotypical “selfish” person.  I wasn’t stingy.  I shared.  I was generous in most ways.  But when it came to my time, attention and support to my family, I could easily just check out.  I remember my wife once saying to me, “sometimes you’re here, but you’re not really here.”  My mind would be elsewhere.  Was it all the time?  No, but it was enough.

Looking back, it makes me sad.  At the same time, I’m thankful for the wake-up call and for the opportunity to change.  I’m still a work in progress and it can still be a struggle.

Last night my son Evan, asked if I could come tuck him and lay with him while he falls asleep.  I told him I’d be up in 10 minutes. Ten minutes turned into twenty.  By the time I reached his room he was fast asleep.  Julie said it might not have mattered, because he was asleep in 5 minutes.  But my heart sank a little.  Evan turns 11 next week and the fact that he still wants me to lay with him is pretty unique.  I also know those days are numbered.

My heart sank because I don’t want to be that guy again.  As I said, I’m a work in progress.  So with him sleeping, I went and laid down in his bed with him. I put my arm around him and kissed his head.  Tears welled up in my eyes, because I thought I couldn’t keep a stinkin’ promise to be in his room in 10 minutes.  I’m going out of town for 5 days and he wanted to spend time with me.  I felt like I blew it.

It was like my own modern day version of the song “Cats in the Cradle”.

I laid in his bed for a few minutes and I began to pray for him.  One of the things I prayed is that these issues I have; he won’t.  That he would be better than that.  And that I would be too.

It’s Always Fun Until Someone Breaks Their Ankle in a Jumpy House

My daughter Olivia immediately quipped, “Maybe all the women should wear bubble wrap shoes on Labor Day”.  This came shortly after an X-Box console fell and landed on my mom’s foot.  You know, your typical Labor Day accident … right up there with singeing your eyebrows from the grill or being impaled by a lawn dart.

I wasn’t there to witness the X-Box nailing my mom’s foot (I was in a near coma-like sleep from jet lag), but heard there was a massive bruise.  And I believe there was a lively discussion on whether or not my mom was dying (my mom’s take) and whether she might be overacting (my dad’s assessment).

This was like the second time I can recall my mom injuring a foot when something fell on it.  That’s when something fell out of the freezer and landed on her foot.  I can’t recall what it was – probably a big ham or other large frozen piece of meat.  Thankfully, she was close to things to ice the bruise.  But that didn’t happen on Labor Day.

No, the mother of all Labor Day foot injuries occurred last year … and it didn’t involve my mother (although she was there).  It involved my wife Julie in the now infamous “jumpy house accident”.

My parents were in town, along with my brother, sister, nieces and nephews and we decided to an indoor “fun park”.  This place had laser tag, video games and jumpy houses.  The name of the place is called “Snapperz” – who knew that it apparently applied to what could happen to your limbs?

Julie decided to join Olivia in obstacle course jumpy house.  There were two sides to the house, so that a person on each side could race through, over and under a series of obstacles.  The last obstacle was climbing a rope ladder to get to the top of a 10-foot slide to exit.  After the second time racing through, I noticed Julie wasn’t coming out. As time passed, I got concerned and could tell something seemed wrong.

In a sequence reminiscent of one of your summer Hollywood blockbuster movies involving a jumpy house, I sprung into action (I’m working on the screenplay now, if there are any takers).  Some men will run into a burning building to save someone; I’ll run into a jumpy house obstacle course to rescue my wife (stop swooning … it’s embarrassing).  I crawled. I jumped.  I may have even skipped to find Julie writhing in pain at the bottom of the rope ladder.

She had just about made it to the top of the slide only to fall back to the bottom.  Along the way she hurt her ankle.  It was bad!! There was no way I could get her back out the way I came in.  The only hope was to some how get her up to the top of the 10-foot slide.  So I helped her stand up, had her hold onto the rope and then pushed her by the butt up the ladder (we’re married, so it’s all legit … we may go back on our anniversary). Pushed her down the slide and I then followed.

Seriously, isn’t this as good as any of those superhero movies?  You put Spiderman in a jumpy house rescue plot and you got yourself a billion dollar motion picture.

From the bottom of the slide, I picked her up and heroically carried her across the room.  Julie swears I let out a loud “ugh” when I picked her up – like I was straining to lift her, but she was delirious from the pain, so what does she know?

Next thing you know, an ambulance arrived along with a fire truck (I never understood the fire truck … unless they wanted to get some pointers on how to save someone from a jumpy house?  It will all be in the book, fellas).  We then took a romantic trip in the ambulance together to the hospital where we found out she had a fractured ankle.

So there might be something to Olivia’s idea of the women in the family wearing bubble wrap shoes.  One year it was Julie, this year my mom … next year, be aware Olivia!