Happy Together

They showed this video at Catalyst this past fall. It is the funniest thing I've every seen, especially when Andy Stanley's house is getting TP'd.

"Inside All of Us Is...ADVENTURE"

Post inspired by National Geogrpahic ADVENTURE Blog.

When going to the link for the movie trailer, be sure to go to the gray box on the right to view the movie trailer.

What's In It For Me

So, you've been dying to know about the igloo trip?

Building an igloo takes a lot of effort. Sam and I attempted to build our igloo. About an hour in three others, then two more, came over and lent a hand in getting our igloo completed. Then, we returned the favor. In our devotion time Sunday morning we talked about Psalm 46 and God being our refuge. For me, it was cool to see God's people provide a refuge for each other.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Building an igloo is a lot of work. It was about 5 hours of work for 11 people to build 5 igloos. We finished about 5:30. We were totally soaked with sweat.

The weather went from sunshine, to rain, to snow. Sam and I put on some dry clothes, and tacos for dinner, and turned in. This is where it gets fun.

I never felt quite warm. Thoughts of igloos sound a bit romantic and adventurous. A nice place to come in out of the cold. Well, you don't really get out of the cold. You are in an igloo. It's made out of snow.

As Sam fell asleep, I read a little for school, but wondered how much I was really comprehending. I turned the headlamps off, but immediately felt closed in. I turned the headlamps back on. I woke up at 9 PM. Sam did, too. I woke up at 11:15 PM. Sam did too.
Now, keep in mind that to conserve the heat in an igloo, you need to tunnel in to your igloo, and do it in a fashion where the floor of the igloo is higher than the ceiling of the tunnel.

Also keep in mind that I started getting sick before we left. Sleeping in an igloo is a very oppressive feeling. The air is heavy, and, with being sick, I felt like I was going to suffocate. You do put a couple of holes in the igloo for "fresh air," but it didn't help. So, it was just an awful feeling. Like, being locked in a freezer with a cow stepping on your chest. All the while wondering, when I begin to close my eyes, "is this sleepiness the same sleepiness that is the warning that you are about to die from hypothermia?" – You just start to fall asleep and won't wake up again, only to be thankful to wake up again 2 hours later to go through the whole routine over again.

I felt like I was literally going to die just from being sick and being cold. At 1 AM I woke up and that suffocating feeling began to turn into panic. The scenarios are running through my mind – "It's 1 AM, I am going to have to go wake up Bob, we are going to have to pack up everything, walk out of here – with Sam, and Bob will either drive me all the way home, or at least to a point where Jean and Alina can meet us. What will these people think of me? Worse, I don't want to spoil Sam's trip." Pray, pray, pray. Feel a little better. Drink water, apply lip balm to my sunburned lips. Fall asleep, while wondering if this is hypothermia again.

I woke up at 3:12 AM. Pray, drink water, apply lip balm to my sunburned lips. Sam wakes up at 3:57 AM and asks what time it is. I tell him, and he smiles because he is awake and it's the middle of the night. I asked if he was having fun. I was hoping he'd say he was cold and miserable and wanted to go home. But, instead, he said, "Yes! We are sleeping in an igloo!" Then he asked if I was having fun. I said, "Sam. If you are having fun, then I am having fun."

He falls back asleep, and I do. Wondering, again, if this time it really is hypothermia. I wake up again at 5:12 and pray, drink, apply lip balm, and fall asleep – again betting that this time it really is hypothermia.

At 7 am there is light outside. YES! We made it! Sam has to go to the bathroom painfully bad. And, we struggle to get his snow pants and coat on without him having a breakdown. We make it out of the tunnel, out of our camping area, and onto the main trail. After Sam goes to the bathroom (which, by the way, I am so proud that he learned how to poop in the snow while wearing 5 layers), we take a hike deeper into the mountains. It is a beautiful morning. I am sick as can be, but I experienced the joy of my son. With my son that I prayed for, who came into our lives just about 8 years ago.

Cramming

This morning I got up to cram. Not so much for graduate school, but for igloo school. To see diagrams, how to shape blocks, and how to arrange blocks.

And, now, I need to get some work done on my paper before we leave...

Getting Ready

Sam and I have been packing for the "Big Weekend." Most Saturdays is "EdVenture Saturday" for the family. But, this coming weekend is a little different.

Next Thursday Sam turns 8. To celebrate Sam and I are going into the mountains Saturday with the Wilderness Ministry from church. We are snowshoeing in, building igloos to sleep in, eating dinner, breakfast the next morning and heading home Sunday. Alina is so sweet in that even though she isn't going with us she wants to help us pack up the gear.

It will be a very good trip. Mostly, because I will be spending time with my favorite exploring buddy. But, it will be good to leave paper writing behind for 30 hours and be kind and gracious to myself, and allow God to be kind and gracious to me as well. It has been a hard week. Almost like the perfect storm – the weaning of medication was going oh so well for weeks until making the next dosage drop Monday; papers upon papers due next week; a new job for Jean and anxiously waiting about another; two inspections early in the week; and therapy today. But, therapy was great; my papers are coming along slow and steady (slow and steady wins the race, as Alina says); I got to hang out with Jean, Sam and Alina at the Spotted Cow for white hot chocolate after Jean's big day; and so much more goodness to be celebrated. I am a blessed man. I am in a good place mentally to engage Sam well this weekend and enjoy him this weekend, and to enjoy how far I have come as a man.

The Weight Metaphor

Most of you who read Jean's blog know that we have been losing weight. Since December 29th I have lost 19 lbs. I still hope to lose another 10 lbs. If it happens, sweet. If not, sweet.

There are many reasons for losing the physical weight for me. I looked like crap. I felt like crap. It was hard to play well, especially with Sam. I had no energy. I am also doing some races this year. Most here in the area, but also one with my sherpa brother in May. That one will be a blast, mostly because it will be with Johnny! I can't wait!

The weight has been a metaphor for many things in life. Coming into this year there were many things that just needed to be let go of. My weight was one of many things. School needed to be done smarter so that I could spend better time with my family. This has led to Edventure Saturdays as a family. There were also harmful relationships that were weighing me down and us down. School, boundaries class at church, and therapy have all led to putting these harmful relationships in their proper places.

As a family, I feel like we are in a really great place. Moving here has been the best thing for us as a couple. When Jean's mom and dad came to visit recently I feared that we would regress or that we as a couple wouldn't be able to hold our own against them. That how we have learned to leave and cleave would be fought against. It was fought against, yet we – and especially Jean – held and held well. It is absolutely amazing to witness who we have become. Not just who I have become, but who we have become. It is truly good.

We each have a handful of friendships that we miss dearly. But, we haven't let those friendships get away. We keep in close contact with them, and they with us. We miss them so much it hurts, and we are looking forward to seeing them in April. Those 10 days are going to go by way too quickly.

Yet, being here has allowed us to cut so many harmful things away. We attend a great church, Sam (and soon to be Alina) is at a great school, I am at a great school. Most of all, I have a great family. Our marriage is intimately good. As hard as the first few months were, we are thankful. I am thankful for who we have been allowed to be and become here. God is transforming me through so many things. I have never felt closer to Jean. I have never felt lighter.

Jean

Today is Jean's birthday! It has been both a mystery and a joy to see who she is, really is. When I am with her I find myself loving who she is, at the same time finding that who she is is someone completely new to me. I love her for who she is – both someone I know and someone that I am completely taken aback by because of beauty that I had never seen before which continues to be exposed. The best part of the day is sitting with her in the evening and just taking in who she is. Wow! – are the feelings that impress on my heart.

Happy Birthday my love!

Being Kissed in the Morning

I have been reading a lot on marriage. A LOT. Primarily because I am taking Dan Allender's "Marriage and Family" class.

Most mornings I am at my desk reading or studying before the rest of the family wakes up. When Jean wakes up on those mornings she comes in and greats me with a kiss. It struck me one morning what a gift of kindness and love those kisses are to me. I treasure them more now.

A Lot On My Mind

Last night I fell asleep thinking about therapy. This morning I woke up thinking about therapy. I've discovered more pieces to the puzzle, but I don't know where they fit yet. I got out of bed at 3:20 AM and journaled some thoughts.

Then, at 4:30 AM I got an e-mail from a friend and co-worker back home saying that the company had let three people go due to the continued mortgage situation. All three are my friends and have been for years. Sharing laughs and stories and dreams and heartache. And now they've been let go. I know that two are resilient. But that fact doesn't take away their hurt, or my hurt for them. One man is far less resilient. My heart breaks for him.

What a hard, sad day...

Christmas Eves

Last Christmas Eve after the church service I remember driving through neighborhoods with Jean and the kids looking at Christmas lights, and talking with Jean about what the upcoming year might be like – especially in Seattle. That we shouldn't kid ourselves in thinking it was going to be a romantic adventure. It was going to be hard.

And it has been hard. This Christmas Eve seemed to sum up the entire year in the span of a few hours:

Our garage doesn't have a floor drain like our house on hall street does, so there is some standing water in there from snow from the van. Jean was trying to step around the water and snagged her only winter coat on a nail. On our way to church I turn down a side street. It was icy from packed snow. The street is super narrow and there were cars packed bumper to bumper that haven't moved in two weeks – this was obvious because of the 8"-10" of snow piled on top of each car. I started sliding left and couldn't avoid taking out a mirror on a Prius that had been sitting there for a week. I left a note with my name and number on the person's door handle. (who knows which house the car belonged to...) Considering how long the car had been sitting there and the rain we are going to get, the note may just bleed from water and be unreadable. But, I wanted to be honest and not be a jerk that simply hit and ran. Church was sweet. They did the service around a chant of O Come O Come Emanuel, with chants by the choir, singing, scripture reading, a message from the pastor, etc. It was very good for our hearts. Then, I got the van stuck in front of the mail box when we got home. I got out and attempted to push while jean tried backing out. Mud was thrown all over me. It was awesome. I couldn't budge it. I got back in the van, determined to get it out. I did. We got inside and Jean prepared a fantastic smorgasbord – a tradition her parents gave to her. The meal was great, and talked non-stop through Polar Express – another family tradition of ours. the kids were wound for Christmas.

The evening wasn't romantic in an "everything is easy way," yet, it was romantic in an "our family loves and enjoys each other."

Christmas

The other day I was going through some old family pictures and I came across this gem snapped Christmas morning, 1971, in our basement duplex. I was just one month shy of being 2 years old.

From Amnesia to Brain Surgery

This morning I wanted to vomit. It was more of a burning in my stomach. I was doubled over in the shower. Those were things that used to happen when I was little. When I didn't want to do something or go somewhere. I missed a lot of school. I've been remembering a lot. And, remembering makes me feel sick. I wasn't feeling sick because today was therapy. I look forward to it and I enjoy therapy. And, I mostly enjoy therapy because I want to be closer to better. Even if getting better looks and feels like I'm getting worse for a while. I was sick this morning because of remembering.

I've been finishing "It's Not About the Bike." I had to put it down when fall term started. When I picked it again I came to a part where Lance is riding the tour. How vomiting for 24 hours straight over 5 day periods due to the chemo treatments, and so much of that time, prepared him to win The Tour. I've been hoping that feeling the pain and nausea I feel now will pay off for something down the road. Realistically it may, and it may not.

Today's therapy was good. And interesting. So much happened. At the end of it all, I was asked if I would be open to switching gears in our sessions together. Going from "relational therapy" to "Lifespan Integration Therapy." Basically, we are needing to re-hardwire my brain. It is such an intense process, that we can only go about it every other session. My therapist has received advance training in Lifespan Integration.

The Lifespan Integration website doesn't mention all of the routine, but before my first "LI" session, I will need to write down a memory from each year of my life. And, each memory for each year will be read, and it will be cycled three times total in our session. All to rewire my brain to realize and understand what safety as an adult is.

I am intrigued by it. And hopeful. I don't want a shortcut. But, I do want to feel and to know healthy boundaries and I want to remember. Next week, due to Christmas, therapy has been moved up to Tuesay evening. So, LI will either begin next week or on Thursday Jan. 8.

Amnesia

The first trimester is over. Reams and reams of paper used for printing readings, assignments and essays. Books upon books read. Whew. What a blur.

So many people from back home called, e-mailed, and instant messaged me over the term to encourage me. I'm sure I'll miss someone, but thanks Adeana, Amanda, Angie, Ann, Anne, Brandon T., Brian M., Brian VM, Chris, Chuck, Darrell W., David B., Deneè, Gary, Howard, Hunter, Johnny, Jon M., Kelly, Kevin, Roger, Steve, Terry, and Tim. I feel like me being at MHGS has been as much of a fulfillment of your dreams as mine. Thanks for your encouragement for me to hang in there.

And, so many new friends out here have encouraged me to live from my story. Not to try and be someone else. But to celebrate my neuroses and lean into my oddities. To mourn the tragedies and cruelties. Thanks to Scott and Scott, Jason, Philip, Julie and Julie, Rick, Grant, Anita, Claire, Lisa, Eron, Shannon, Paul, and David. And, especially Bruce who I traveled back from classes with and we shared stories of joy and pain. Thanks!

Most of all, thanks to Jean, Sam and Alina for making me study and for making me play. And for loving me through the demands of the trimester. You have each loved me as I wrestled through the deconstructive readings and classes that have peeled layer after layer off my onion all the way down to the pain that was hidden underneath. You are the greatest!

And, now that it is rest time from studying, I still have important work to do. Over the last half of the term I have started to remember little things. Very painfully tragic events. Some brought on from readings, others from just being forced to sit in one place. Most of my life I haven't remembered. I have kept moving and it has prevented me from recalling. I had developed amnesia about nearly every memory.

Over break I have blocked out time to look at photographs in order to recall cruelty, abandonment, seduction, human sacrifice, and repeated abuse. The recall of these memories aren't so that I can continue to sit in the despair of the past. It is so that the past can be reauthored, as Dr. Allender says. Reauthored for the future's hope. Last Thursday after counseling I went for a walk in the woods. I asked God to begin to help me remember some events. He began to. The events being recalled were so hurtful that they were overwhelming. God was gracious enough to turn the memories back off for the time being. I know those memories are just the tip of the iceberg for what is deep below the surface of the dark waters.

I am very pleased with the relationship I have developed with my therapist here. A therapist who is a graduate of MHGS. A therapist who understands the deconstruction process of the school. And, most of all, one who desires to help me remember so that those repeated tragedies can be redeemed for good.

Reading Between the Lines

This morning, most of my readings have had adventure and journey imagery sprinkled through.

When we embark on such a journey, we understand there will be challenges along the way, unexpected encounters that stretch us to our limits and change the shape of who we are. We know we will emerge changed, bearing the marks of the journey on our soul and body. Our friends may not recognize us when we return; we may not even recognize ourselves! Such a journey requires commitment – willingness to press on through sunlit days and dark nights, unspeakable beauty and terrible danger, sometimes finding companionship and sometimes feeling utterly alone, sometimes sure we are headed in the right direction, other times afraid we have completely lost our way. It is that perilous and priceless journey inward to that place at the center of ourselves where God dwells. (p. 19, "Invitations to Silence and Solitude") While I don't believe that God dwells just at the center of ourselves, but also at the center of life all around us. Yet, the imagery is powerful.

...Via negativa, which has its underlying assumption the hiddenness of God, not the overt visibility of God... Dillard reminds the reader that nature and/or God is apt to hide itself. She tells stories of trying to catch glimpses of fish in deep water, of stalking muskrats in the woods for hours, of turning just in time to see the final flash of a fleeing squirrel or bird. All such stories are metaphors for a fleeting God, a God that must be sought, stalked, waited out, patiently and tirelessly. The mystical experience results from the expansion of the via negativa concept to include not only God, but also the individual in pursuit of God... As God told Moses on Sinai, no one can see God's glory fully and live to tell the story. Yet, this danger does not warrant ending the pursuit of the fleeting God... "You quit your house and country, quit your ship, and quit your companions in the tent... the light on the far side of the blizzard lures you. You walk, and one day you enter the spread heart of silence... This the end of the Via Negativa, the lightless edge where the slopes of knowledge dwindle, and love for its own sake, lacking an object, begins..." One must be willing to go out to the furthest edge of the mystery that is God, a place where one may be allowed a brief glimpse of glory, an dmight also die in the process. Dillard mentions Ezekiel's rebuking of false prophets who have "not gone into the gaps." Dillard, in an earnest tone, tells the reader, "The gaps are the thing. The gaps are the sprit's one home, the altitudes and latitudes so dazzingly spare and clean that the spirit can discover itself for the first time like a once-blind man unbound. The gaps are the clifts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God... Go up into the gaps... Stalk the gaps." She emphasizes again that there are no guarantees for safety and that one must be prepared for surprise and shock when dealing wth God. God will "catch you up, aloft, up to any cap at all, and you'll come back... transformed in a way you may not have bargained for – dribbling and crazed."

At first, this reading frustrated me. Why does God do this when all I want is to see His face. And, I'm tired. Then, I realized, I have been stalking Him all along. Not like a big game trophy to be mounted above our fireplace. But, the true God. I have seen his tracks. I have seen more of His shadows recently. I think I am getting closer.

Hearing Different Words

For the second Monday in a row I have been told by two caring faculty members that I need to take a year to care for me. To grieve my story. To care for my heart. To stop caring for others so that I can care for myself. All so that I can care for me the way that I care for others. And, when I care for me better I can truly care for others well because I will be able to better grieve for me and for them.

Jean says I love her and the kids in completely higher ways since being in Seattle. Jean says I have changed so much being here. I don't know.

All of us in the MACP program have to do 42 hours of outside counseling with a therapist by fall 2009. Mine begins Nov. 20. It will start at a place where my last two left off, and maybe at a different starting place that hasn't been mined yet. This time around I want to see a female counselor. How in the world can I begin to care for myself and allow myself to be cared for. It has been easier to care for others than to care well for me. My inner circle of guys care for me and care for me well. But, I need to allow them to care better because it is hard for me. I need to let them for them and for me.

It is very strange to be trusting a stranger that hasn't earned my trust in a strange city and at a very deconstructing time. This should be fun...

The End of the Other Blog

This morning I suspended my other blog. It was about my reconstruction. But, my Misadventures are also about my reconstruction. Having multiple blogs felt like having multiple personalities. I don't want to compartmentalize areas of my life.

The other blog was intended to capture some good quotes from class or conversations at school that struck me. I was logging great quotes during my note taking, but only posted on the other blog three times. Below, you will find those three posts...

Last Week

originally posted wednesday october 29, 2008
The last 8 days have been sweet. Coffee with Paul (and yes, I did have coffee that actually went down my throat) was relieving. The second time telling my story – ALL OF IT – and being confirmed and affirmed for who I am. It was good. I realized I did not need to be someone else while I am here. I can be me. Comfortable in my own skin. And, today was an epiphony. While reading about Transference and Countertransference some lights came on. Blaming my dad for the reason why I want to be perfect. Actually, digging into me, I see now where that actually comes from. It is good the way this program is leaning into me.

On Being with Someone

original post wednesday october 29, 2008
It isn't about how you can fix somebody's problem, but how you can be with someone in their problem. – Roy

On Being a Critic

original post: friday october 17, 2008
Both Dan and Dwight gave great quotes in their respective classes this week. I will start with a quote from Dwight's class – perhaps partially because he is from Canada and because I think I have a man-crush on him, in a manly, Canadian sort of way...

"Anyone can be a critic. Have you ever seen a blog? There is no spiritual gift in being a critic."

The Outcome

Monday night was sweet. Very sweet. The couples were very, very willing to hear our stories, and to share theirs. And that set our group up for a truly sweet night. They were eager to have a vision for they key areas of their marriage. Coolest, though, was that after I time was done, everyone stayed around for an additional 45 minutes, just enjoying eating desert and delving into each other even more. No agenda, and no other place to go. And, best of all, in talking to each person since Monday, there is the sense that everyone is looking forward to next Monday.