The Edible Everything

If there is one thing I have enjoyed since I was born (according to my mother) it's eating. 

I was eating Cheerios by the time I was a few months old (ask my mom if you're wondering if that's possible). In my middle school days when I was 6 foot 1 and 13 years old, I could eat 6 McDonalds double cheeseburgers, a large fry and a dessert in one sitting with ease. In my high school basketball days, I recall once eating an entire bag of 8 frozen chicken patties (cooked and put on buns of course), 2 full bags of family sized chips, a big bowl of cheesy potatoes, a whole sleeve of packaged fig bars and 2 slices of my mom's famous peanut butter pie-all in one sitting (my mom yelled at me, but all I could tell her was the typical teenage boy phrase, 'I'm hungry.') I don't quite have the epic appetite I used to have now, though every once in a while, it creeps up on me. 

I find myself currently watching cooking or food challenge shows often thinking 'that looks so good.'

My little girl has a similar desire to eat. She likes food. though the target is less than ideal. It's anything. And I do mean anything. Anything and everything. 

Everything must be tasted, everything must be tried, and everything must be attempted to fit into the mouth. 

Regardless of what the item is, the same reaction happens. Her eyes widen, she stares at it briefly for a few seconds and then makes the final pounce with her best impersonation of a toothless version of Jaws.

Mom and Dad's iPhones. 'I'm gonna eat that.'

A deck of cards. 'Yummy.'

A soft, fuzzy blanket. 'Interesting flavor.'

(Don't fret, worried people. She doesn't get near anything she could choke on).

And It amazes me how, to her, the bigger the item, the more reasonable it seems to be able to eat. 

Her hands and feet. 'These would taste good but might be better with some oregano.'

A basketball. 'Definitely gonna take that down.'

A guitar. 'Tastes like a smooth tree.'

And of course, her favorite, any flat surface that sits in front of her. Counters, tables, edges of desks, and the little eating area that sits on her high chair. She literally bends the top half of her whole body downward and tries to chew whatever yummy surface that apparently screams 'eat me!' and like the Cookie Monster nearly lets out a 'Num num num!' as she sinks down.

She must've heard the saying 'the world is your oyster' a bit too soon (oysters are gross by the way) and has taken it a bit to literally. But in any case, this I think can teach me one thing. Life is full of wonderful tastes around every corner that are waiting to be tried. 

I just wouldn't advise following this literally. It might be cute as a baby but it doesn't work so much as an adult or even a teen. You'd most likely get thrown out of every public establishment imaginable and then be questioned for what sort of physical and/or mental disease you might have with the possibility that you might lose friends because of your disturbing 'I must taste EVERYthing' problem.

Just stick to the metaphor of 'tasting life' and you should be fine.

Why I Write

Those who know me best know that I'm a writer. It's a piece of who I am.

But something has been said to me multiple times lately that's bothered me. It irritates me as well as motivates me yet it hurts.

It's "why do you do you write?" "You're not a professional unless you're published right?" "Do you want to get 'big'?" "You know that probably won't happen right?" "Good luck with that" (sarcastically). 

I want to be clear in my response for me and anyone else who might be reading this. 

I don't write because I want thousands or millions of people to read it. I don't write because I'm craving attention. I don't write because I want approval or compliments. I don't write to share it on Facebook or Twitter or any social media outlet in the hopes it will go viral. I don't write to get published. I don't write in desperation that one day I'll make money.  

I write because I love it. 

Glory is not a goal. Neither is recognition. 

It's like breathing, I don't know how I'd survive without it. I've struggled with inner cynicism and negativity and confidence issues my whole life. Writing is my therapy, my medication, and more than anything (because I journal them throughout the day) my prayers to The Living God.

As my bio on this blog states, I write things here to have an impact on someone. If it's a fellow reader then that's awesome. I couldn't ask for more than to have an influence on another human being's life. But often, the person my writing have an impact on is me. 

Writing words down onto a page (or phone or tablet) helps to keep myself lively and seek out light and goodness. It silences my strong tendencies to be upset or stressed or angry or negative and helps the darkness inside me be vanquished. More often than not, I don't know what I'm trying to say until I'm done writing. It's as if someone else wrote it. And the finished product ends up being words I needed to hear and help lift my spirit.

I don't do it for any other purpose. 

So if you're still reading this, know that I will continue to write here. I will continue to write poems. I will continue to write sermons. I will continue to write books.

I might release pieces by myself on Amazon or Smashwords or other "self-published" locations. I might send them to publishers and hope to get a response. I might keep them completely to myself. 

It doesn't matter to me what happens. 

In the end, I'm writing.

And that's what I love.

The Who in BBQ

Putting away food has been one of my specialties since I was 12. You name the the amount and I could probably honk it down.

So you could say that I have a mild affection for it.

This weekend, my wife and I were in Texas Hill Country and found a barbecue place that is somewhat of legendary status nationwide. It's called the Salt Lick in Driftwood, TX. And it was heavenly. 

They have an open fire pit at the front of the restaurant where large portions of ribs, brisket, sausage, pork, and turkey are all smoked to a sweet glazed perfection.

I was like a little boy in a candy shop. Only my candy was portions of tender brisket, succulent ribs, and smoky sausage. But what I think I'm going to remember most about this meal will not just be the food. If will without a doubt be who I shared it with.

The conversation I had with my wife was awesome. And the non-stop laughter we shared at our daughter who was screaming out of excitement to let everyone in the place know how great her hanging bell toy was lit up the night more than the flames that cooked our food.

Yes the burnt ends of the brisket melted in my mouth (literally like butter). Yes, the ribs slid off the bone with ease. But what I'm going to take in most is who I spent it with. 

And how it's one of my most cherished memories already. 

It's been said by many wiser people than me before but it's worth saying again.

It's not necessarily about WHAT in life but WHO. And WHO will makes your WHAT that much more meaningful.

A few words of wisdom from an upcoming book!

Some words of truth in my book I'm currently putting finishing touches on,

'Big INsights: A Semester's Worth of Small Truths'. Let me know what you think!

Don't let your problem with the world be that everyone is not just like you. 

Jesus died for you, Jesus died for me. Jesus died to set the captives free. But too many think He died for their flag first, when really he died for all who have thirst. 

Should a follower of Jesus retire? I'd like to think not. Because retiring means stopping & we should give all that we've got. 

Grudges push and crush with weight so heavy. But no weight to large for forgiveness.

When it comes to our dreams one of two things can happen.

Either we listen to the loud voices that tell us “No!”

Or we listen to the yes inside that tells us “Go!” 

Move to the Groove

I love music. I love singing it while I'm in the car. I love tapping my hands and feet to it whenever I'm alone. I love playing it on my guitar. I love the sensation it fills within my soul. And I know babies tend to love it as well. But personally, I think it's a little more intense for my daughter. 

I think I have a musician on my hands. Every time she hears music, it nearly makes her a different person in the moment. Whatever was previously happening is officially gone forever because music, glorious music is being played and she simply must stop to listen.

It's like from the moment she was born, she was neurologically programmed to be entranced by the sound of notes playing together. It's as if a hypnotist secretly snuck into the hospital after she was born and while were sleeping during her first few days of life, hypnotized her to go into another state of consciousness while any music played. (Boy that's creepy now that I think about it. New children's horror fiction for me to write possibly?)

Her first 4 months of life, I could often use the power of music to stop any crying, whining, or struggle. I would simple put some on (easy listening, she's not quite ready for AC/DC or Run DMC yet) and she'd stare into the glorious abyss of that sound unlike any other. But now at month 5 she has added a new element to the musical trance. Dancing.

Not sure exactly how to take all the strange new energy music gives her, she lets loose. If she's in her car seat, the arms go up and down, and legs start kicking. If she's lying on her mat, she rocks back and forth while bobbing her head. If she's in her walker she's bouncing up and down, swaying left and right, swerving, moving to the groove, and spinning around with a 360 that finishes in a perfectly executed moonwalk (maybe I went a little over the top there). She could be in frustrating pain from her teeth coming in or she could be so tired that the only solution seems to be fussy grumpiness. But when her 'jam' comes on (which is any song with a beat) all pain and fuss is gone and it is time to dance.

I guess I've once again learned a life lesson from this tiny ball of fun known as my daughter. Life is too short not to let loose and dance. 

If you're at the supermarket, dance.

If you're at the football game, dance.

If you're watching a movie at the theater...well...if it's a good movie that you enjoyed, then wait until after to celebrate how much you enjoyed it and then dance. This way, you won't make the other people in the theater angry which could resultin a complaint, which could lead to you getting kicked out, which could lead to you never seeing any movies in the local theater ever again. 

So maybe everywhere might not be the best place to let loose to a song, but still. Live a little, feel the rhythm, move to the music, and dance. 

The Fictional and The Real

I love entertaining fictional stories.

TV shows, movies, books, radio programs (if those still exist). I love it. 

I was reminded of it last Tuesday as one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Parks and Recreation, ended with its Series Finale.

As the final episode played on and each character was given a beyond phenomenal closing, with each character moving forward from some previous help, influence and wisdom from other characters. They all helped each other get somewhere in their life that they might not have thought possible due to other people. 

I found myself so moved. Excited, emotional (don't judge me), and estatic. Something I usually feel when dealing with real-life people in my line of work.

Yet I felt something with these characters. A connection I saw as their fictional lives play out in front of me. It was their story.

Even though it was a comedy, and sometimes ridiculously silly at some points, the characters felt like real people. And I loved to see their story play out.

And I have to ask myself, wouldn't it be something if I paid attention more intentionally with more people's story? Wouldn't it be something if we all did this?

Wouldn't it be something if we all put more focus on the actual stories happening in front of us in real life rather than a digital screen?

Wouldn't it be something if we helped other people had better stories, whether that be by loving, by sharing, by feeding, by discussing, or by lending a hand?

Wouldn't it be something if we were genuinely excited, emotional, and estatic when watching, listening or experiencing our stories together?

Make your story one worth watching and telling. Help someone else have a great story as you live out a great one yourself.

Work with Dad

As most parents know, finding childcare for your baby can be a difficult process. Fortunately for us, though, I have job where our little one can come to work with me. It is definitely something else. 

She does everything with Daddy each weekday. She's with me so much at work you could say she has become an honorary staff member. And she seems to love every second of it. 

My little worker bee hangs in there just fine.

She sits in my lap as I write up emails. (Of which she loves slapping the keyboard as many times as possible. Sometimes even slipping unknown words into them like hkluoijlm and rdmk9oui and my personal favorite 67jdxcf2q3aw once signed at the bottom of a reply email.)

She strolls around in her walker as I research and plan. (Strolling is a slight understatement. It's more like crashing into everything in sight and squealing like a baby pig with every step taken).

She takes naps in a swing that lies next to my desk in my office. (This is, by far, the quietest time I get work done. And strangely, its the most distracting. I guess I've gotten used to the noise).

She even goes to every staff meeting. (My least favorite hour or so becomes her absolute favorite hour or so each week. Don't know why, but staff meetings are apparently the best times to get the most attention from a variety of people and the best time to be alert and awake).

If some of you are reading this and you're thinking "you're nuts" or "How do you actually get any work done?" Let me blow your mind a little bit. I actually work better now than I did before. Not sure if it's because my girl is always keeping me on my toes or what, but my brain is more alert and my willingness to get things done well and get them done right has increased. 

I now get things done with more efficiency and with hardly any procrastination as I inadvertently used to do. I'm not necessarily saying this is how it will always be, I'm just saying it's how it is now. I think the reason I've found myself working even better since I started bringing her to work comes down to one big thing.

I'm constantly reminded of a very big thing: being her dad.

Obviously, I'm reminded by the normal daddy actions, like changing her diaper in the men's restroom, having to take a break to feed her or putting her down under my desk for a nap.

But something much bigger speaks to me. It's the fact that I get to enjoy every aspect of my day because she's there with me. No issue with work seems too big, no stress seems to worrisome, no assignment seems to insane. I get to have my little smiley, joyful baby (please no aw sounds) right here with me during everything that comes with work. 

Nothing can bring me down.

Because at the end of every day, after work, and stress, and difficulties, I get from things that come with the title of my job, I still get to have a title that is one of the best I've ever had: Dad.