I Love Lucy

Nine months ago, we were made aware that this day was coming.  In a vacation condo just outside of Walt Disney World's Magic Kingdom we got that delightful news that we would be having a baby.  Several appointments, ultrasounds, shopping trips, baby showers, and books later, the day was drawing near.

And just when I thought I had my head wrapped around it, our little miracle threw us a curve ball.  

January 11th, a week before our scheduled c-section date, was shaping up to be a long night.  The dog began to inexplicably bark at 2 am. Then Evan had woke up to the noise. After I walked the dog and Sara laid down with Evan for a minute, it was bedtime again.

Or so we thought.

"Hey babe. I think my water just broke......the doctor's office said we should go to the hospital."  I had played this scenario in my head at least a dozen times, and each time I was a deer in headlights. Each time I had the typical 'holy crap' moment.

And 3:30 am on Friday, January 11th was no different. "Holy crap; this is really about to happen"

After hours in the hospital, labor pains, contractions, and a lot of discussions and decisions, it was agreed that the c-section was the way to go.  And at 2:03 pm, Lucy changed my life forever. 

And yes, I cried like a little girl. I admit it. Fight me.

I didn't think it was possible to be more in love with my wife, but after sitting through labor, after laying my eyes on my little girl for the first time, after watching her care for Lucy at the hospital and at home, my God how I adore Sara even more. And when Lucy was born, she had never been more beautiful than in that moment

The first to hold her after Sara and I was this little guy, who needless to say was very pumped!

And then it hit me. Lucy has changed me in so many more ways than the father title. In that moment I wanted to be a better husband. I fell more in love with an amazing wife.  I felt my love for Evan grow; I wanted to be a better step-dad to hands down the best kid ever. And I wanted to be the best dad I can be to my little princess. And I will. I WILL.  

I will not fail this little girl. I WILL NOT FAIL.

Because God has blessed me with an extraordinary family to love. And I will not fail them. I get to be married to my best friend. I get to be stepdad to a great kid (who is also a best friend). And I get to be a daddy. I get to have a daddy's girl. My God how I'm blessed. My God how I love my wife, how I love my stepson.

And my God, how I. Love. Lucy.

I'm so glad that you're here my sweet girl. Daddy loves you.

Autumn Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine

Anyone else tired of Sunny with a high of 100 and a humidity somehow defying laws of fundamental physics? I AM.  I'm over it. Completely over it.  Highs that only get into the 60s and a nip in the air that warrants long sleeves is starting to slowly creep in, and I for one am for it.

Sure a few months from now when I can see my breath, on a sunny day, at noon, I will ask myself why in the hell I ever wished this weather away. It happens every time. But just like an Alzheimer's patient here I stand yet again, staring autumn right in the face and telling God to bring it on.  Thank 6 pound 8 ounce baby Jesus for this weather! It's time for staying under blankets and having the feeling that they weigh 100 pounds and are keeping you in bed against your will (if you own a Martha Washington blanket you understand).  It's time for soups for dinner. It's time for looking outside on a sunny day and not feeling guilty for that nonsensical "you're not taking advantage of the day" talk.  It's time for 6 am in middle Tennessee to mirror Ireland, that damp, foggy aura of climatic apathy.

You take a look outside and experience weather like this and it's no wonder that Seattle produces moody rock music. You would too. And yet I'm ready for everything that comes with it too.  I'm ready for the leaves to fall en masse.  I'm ready for curling up with a blanket and my wife and staying out of the cold.  I'm ready for football to kick into high gear (oh and the American kind too).  I'm ready for that annual pilgrimage to Jackson's Orchard with the Beltons and that excited look on Evan's face when we get there.  I'm ready for E to experience a college football game in Bowling Green. I'm just ready.

And I apologize to those of you who are putting away your bathing suits until next year.  I'm sorry that trips to the beach are no longer an option. I'm sorry that for the most part the grills are being put away.... and the golf clubs too. I'm sorry that your shorts are no longer an option....and the flip flops too.  For those of you that may suffer, even mildly, from Seasonal Affective Disorder, for you I am also truly and deeply sorry.

But it's time. And I'm ready. Bring on the fall. The warm and vibrant colors that work so well to neutralize the cool breeze and dark sky.  The hot chocolate, hot coffee, hot soup, hot tea, warm fire (or in our case gas powered heat). After all, "there is a time for everything and a season for every purpose under heaven" (Eccl 3:1).

So it'll be casual dress at work that will see shorts for the last time this year, then it's off to Fairfield for the last 54 holes perhaps of the year, and maybe a 70 degree day or two while we're there on the golf vacation.  And then it'll really be over, and I'm ready, and it's time.

Autumn, it'll be good to see you again when I get back.  We've got some catching up to do.

What I Believe

I believe in choice.  This is a big one for me.  I do not like the notion of opinions developing into stringent law. People have steadfast beliefs on a series of issues that quickly become hot topic, red button debate points for politicians.  Allow me to present a very interesting possibility: maybe, just maybe, the politicians of this country keep us bickering with each other over our moral stance so that we forget the important issues that they continually fail to fix and continually fail us as a result. Hey it’s just a thought. 

What will you do for the economy? Will you blow up another country? What will you do to prevent another country from blowing up ours? Will you raise taxes? Will you help those in need? Will you care for education? I’m sorry but I just think an overuse of attention is directed to gay marriage, contraception, and legalizing pot. But that’s just me.  And in my belief in choice, I sincerely believe in your right to choose to disagree with everything I’ve said and honor that we can disagree.

With that, I believe in free speech. In other words, I believe in the right of someone to openly express themselves. What I do NOT believe in is hate speech. You lose your right to talk when your talk is oppressive, slanderous, racist, objectifying, and belittling. That is when you have the right to shut your mouth.  Everyone’s mother said it, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” My dear God if only we had listened this world would be a lot better

I believe in freedom of religion.  I believe that I have a right to live free of oppression for the belief I have in my God and the faith that I put in my savior Jesus Christ. I also believe that people in Murfreesboro have a right to practice their faith in a Mosque too. Not all Muslims are terrorists.  I repeat: NOT ALL MUSLIMS ARE TERRORISTS.  I believe in experiencing other faiths, delving into other cultures, breathing in other lives, experiencing other customs. Live and let live, learn to coexist, appreciate one another, love one another. Jesus did not say, “Love your neighbor that goes to the same church as you love yourself”. I’m pretty sure that middle part isn’t in the Bible.

I believe in my stepson. He is truly amazing. He lights up a room, has the best disposition, a curiosity to learn, a wonderful sense of humor, and a great spirit.  For a man that will soon become a biological father and may not be the same to him, I certainly love him as though he were.  He will go places; he will do amazing things. He may break a few hearts and he almost certainly will screw up, but we all do. And we’ll all be there to dust him off and get him going again. And maybe he’ll be midfielder for Chelsea (hey I can dream can’t I?)

I believe in my wife.  I have known her for nearly 15 years now, and she has the best soul of anyone I know. We see each other so clearly. We share many feelings and sentiments, and without having her screen this, I can say with most certainty that she shares my beliefs. We walk in unison; we do this thing called life side by side, hand in hand.  She’s my best friend, truly my BEST friend.  She is smart, funny, thoughtful, and passionate.  Oh and a looker at that.  She is a terrific mother to my stepson and will be the perfect mother to our little Lucy. She has raised a fine young man in Evan, and I can only hope and pray that Lucy is half as pure and good a soul as he.

I believe in myself. And that hasn’t always come easy.  I used to think that the goal of doing well in school, on the soccer field, in life in general was to make your parents proud. Don’t get me wrong, it is great that my parents have pride in their son, but it is more important to me that I have confidence and belief in myself, that I did college for me, that I work for me and my family.  I have reached a point in my life (partly because of faith, partly because of a family that has my back, and partly because of friends that encourage me) where I truly feel that I can conquer any obstacle.  So look out world, I have a power strong enough to overcome you: BELIEF. I BELIEVE IN ME.

My Happy, Hectic, Busy LIfe

Sooooo.....I got a few things going on.  A schedule with such wrinkles that for the first time in my life, I am keeping a detailed calendar.  I knew this would happen eventually. I knew that I would pay for all of those years of care-free play as a child, all those "hang out" days as a teenager, and all those free spirited, occasional sleep-in hookie days as a college student.  Life has come back to collect its backpay, and with a vengeance.

I'm a data lead.  Since July of last year, I have been blessed to go from unemployed to temp employee with no benefits to full time with benefits to leading a group and owning stock.  Admittedly that's not too bad in a year's time.  My company has done me well, and not to brag, but I think I've done it quite well also.  It's a great place to work, downtown is a fun place to work, and I have some great co-workers.  One little thing though: it's a sales company. SALES.  As in 4 times a year, life becomes absolute madness, Murphy's Law run amok, HELL on wheels. The end of a sales quarter is similar to the last 5 questions of the SAT when you have 30 seconds to finish.......AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!  What's crazy is that I never saw myself in the sales business, I could not imagine myself in a high-rise in Nashville, and certainly couldn't see myself dealing with an end of quarter sales atmosphere.  And now I love it....and truly love my job.

I'm a kids minister.  That's right. Kids Minister.  15 years ago, I didn't think I would be worth a crap at anything God-centered.  I didn't know God that well, and I definitely didn't do well to listen to him.  But I found myself called to his service in helping with the kid program at my church.  It does ask for a little bit of my time and a little bit of myself.  I try to be diligent about presenting information to teach the kids about God, to help them worship Him, and to help them glorify them.  And I try to make it FUN, because at their edge they need to have a good time and learn God seemingly by accident.  It's tough at times; I wouldn't have imagined myself doing it.  But goodness how I love it.

I'm a soccer coach.  This is the one that's easy to see.  Everyone who has met me for more than 5 minutes knows that I am an absolute nut about that sport.  So when E hinted a playing, I was happy to offer up my services at the orientation.  Teaching 5-year olds about soccer is a blast, and at the same time one heck of a challenge.  Sometimes it's easier to have them play tag and jump in a puddle than to focus on kicking a goal.  But then there's Saturdays. There's watching a little girl score and displaying unbridled joy. And there's watching E score and the Evan Army shout in unison in joy.  It makes every practice and every late night at the fields worth it.  I love being a soccer coach.

I'm going to be a father.  I'm excited. I'm in love. I'm scared to death.  In all of the emotion, I doubt very little that Sara and I will be great parents, and I also have no doubt that Lucy will be amazing and a joy to our lives.  But I honestly have these great leaps of faith because of her.  I have seen how my wife works as a mother. She's brilliant. Brilliant.  Want the proof?  Look at E.  You DON'T get a kid like that by accident.  He's a joy, simply a wonderful child in every way. Because she's a wonderful mother.  I've got some skills myself, but I know that we will do just fine because I know that I could not have a better partner to raise our little girl.  I'm lucky, I'm bless, and I'm gonna love being a dad.

I'm a busy guy. Every day has something on the calendar. Gone are the days of laziness, video games, all-day basketball tournaments as a kid, and sleeping in and skipping Physics in college. And I would not have it any other way.  This life is treating me wonderfully.  And I love my happy, hectic, busy life.

3 Months, 1 Blog, 1 Freckles

Well I stink. 3 months and no blogs.  I'm terrible about sticking to this.  Truth be told, without some form of accountability I'm about as reliable as a sundial at midnight. But here I am again.  Three months have passed and so many little things have happened. And with all apologies to the people, the places, the events, there was one trip and one very big thing that gets the highlight here.

For months we had planned it.  Rental car booked months in advance. My dad passed along timeshare so that we could stay free (kudos Dad!).  I had map quested, google mapped, bought a globe, bought a De Lorme, and brought in a cartographer (okay maybe not).  But we were ready for the insanity that is Walt Disney World.  E deserved it. That kid is amazing; believe me when I tell you that I am the luckiest step dad in the history of ever.  And Sara and I had decided that he was fully deserving of a trip to see Mickey and Minnie before starting Kindergarten.

And so we went.  If we didn't think he deserved this trip before, the 12 hour drive without incident proved it to us that E is the best and easiest kid.  And yes parents that are currently prying your children off of a chandelier you should be jealous (and possibly hate me a little bit). But I digress.

The amazing Star Island resort was a great place to stay, the weather cooperated rather magnificently, and as soon as we entered, the 5-year old was overwhelmed and the grown ups that he brought along became 5 years old themselves.  There was a show with all the Disney characters at the Magic Kingdom castle, there were rides, the Swiss Family Robinson house, a train, a haunted house, you name it. And thank God for grandparents or any one of us would have expired trying to attack that place alone.  And after the long and amazing day (approximately 7 pm when our faces started to read "I've had enough") we returned to the resort to relax.

And then it happened.

"Jonathan?" Her voice was almost unbelievably questioning in tone.

And there she held in her hand what had changed our lives. There was a line.....a dark, clear, perfect, wonderful line.

I honestly can't remember what I said; I probably didn't speak English for a minute.  For the next 24 hours I couldn't stop smiling.  And to be truthful, I've really been smiling ever since.

Amongst all the apprehension and uncertainty we patiently waited, nearly 3 months from the time.  Without a picture or the sound of a heartbeat, we didn't want to get too excited. Then the ultrasound flickered, the heart thumping so rhythmically and so beautifully. Freckles, as E has affectionately decided to name our little miracle, was even practicing for the 100m freestyle on camera. I teared up a bit and was proud to do so.

And it has changed me. It has changed how I view the blessing of helping with our children' ministry. It has changed how hard I work, how much more I love her, how much more I appreciate and love that amazing step kid of mine.

Jonathan Bowers: child of God through His mercy, husband through His grace, father through His and our little miracle.  I can't wait to meet you, Freckles. And my God how I love you already.

And then P90X killed me

Back in my school days, and especially back in my soccer playing days, I considered myself to be in fairly good shape. In high school, Mark Lamberth made damn sure of it. Sometimes the conditioning that we would go through in preparation for the season looking eerily similar to this

with your friends one by one falling at your side. The wonderful grass on the field at White House High School was proudly sowed by the members of the 1998 White House High School soccer team stamping it into the ground while running gassers (current members of the team, you're welcome).

I was reminded by a friend recently that we would run cone sprints for upwards of 20 minutes straight and then, after a 30 second water break, would be expected to (as a TEAM) run a 2:10 1/3 mile. If you're a runner, you know that's not that tough. If you've already run cone sprints until your struggling for breath, it's BRUTAL. And if any one of us didn't make it, we got time for a breather and then had to make it (as a TEAM) in 2:20. I swear, at times, in my light-headed, nauseated, sweaty state, I could see Coach Lamberth turning red, growing horns and a bifurcated tail, and carrying a trident.

After suffering through that regimen through high school and being expected to keep healthy and fit throughout my years of playing organized sport, I guess that I decided I was done caring for a while. And then came college. I ate unhealthy food and the only recognizable exercise I got was walking this:

It took me half a semester in jogging class to manage to run two miles without stopping. Sad. And then I got it back and was running 2 miles in 12 minutes for my final. And I was proud....and happy....and feeling pretty good about myself.

And then I stopped giving a big fat crap again. This time for about...ohhhhh.....5 years. And then I started dating and married my wife who decided that it was this real big freakin' awesome idea that we care about ourselves and eat healthy. Since then I have gone through a bit of an awakening. I have eliminated most of my fast food consumption and replaced it with fruits, vegetables, wheat pasta, and Coke...Zero. I take my sandwich wrap, salad, and Greek yogurt to work instead of grabbing a burger or gyro at work.

I was proud....and happy.....and feeling pretty good about myself. But NOOOOOO! Then Sara has to start running........and running.......and running some freakin' more. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of her (she's about to log her 100th mile running), and to be honest her dedication to fitness is extremely sexy, but man it was starting to make me feel like a lazy oaf.

But then I sat back and started asking myself why I couldn't get up and do it. Why I couldn't find the motivation to try to get into shape. It was at the time that Evan and I finished detailing her car and walked into the house that the exercise demon attacked. Its name is P90X. Sara was getting into the workout and suddenly I found myself grabbing a resistance band and joining in the fray. And holy crap it almost killed me. My abs are on fire and tomorrow I will be sore in spots that I didn't even know I had muscles. That was just arms, shoulders, and abs. Sara showed me that there's a whole freakin' volume library of DVDs to go!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In looking back, I guess Mark Lamberth did me a great service. He tried to kill me getting me in shape but pushed me when I wanted to give up. He showed me I could do it. That was when I had a teenage metabolism. The more impressive feat is what my wife has done for me in my post-teen I don't give a rat's ass time. McDonald's burgers and laying on couches replaced by turkey burgers and doing crunches. She is wonderful; she makes my life great but on top of that insists upon me living it better and more fully.

Tomorrow will be day 2 with P90X and I'm excited about it. And now I'm proud......and happy......and feeling pretty good about myself.

But make no mistake. I'm still convinced that P90X will kill me.

Christian Rebuttals

Judgmental.

Hypocritical.

Antiquated.

Three words that a non-believer quickly springs for when attempting to dissolve any effort to witness to them. Rational gripes. The simple truth is going around spreading the Gospel is not as easy as smacking someone with a Bible until they agree with you; running around shouting “Praise Jesus!” until they do the same or listing out a person’s sins for them until they agree they need forgiveness. Telling a person the many reasons they are going to hell won’t get you far either. No, you’re going to meet resistance. Lots of it. What do you do about it?

How about addressing each gripe? Maybe we can better witness our faith to those that don’t have it, don’t want it, or see no value in it.

But first allow me to say something that may possibly piss someone off (sorry by the way). If you go around using your faith as a weapon against non-believers, use it to explain to them why you’re right and they’re wrong, if you wave a banner of righteousness and cast a critical eye on those who need witnessing because you believe in God and they don’t, if you have arrogance that bleeds through, you have failed to witness to those that need it, you have failed your fellow man, and you have failed to properly represent your God.

And that’s why I say the judgmental gripe is a rational one. Because we as Christians sometimes flat out stink at this one. Don’t let your pride foolishly get in the way. You’re human, you poop, you put your pants on the same as they do, you once didn’t have God’s salvation, and you screw up too

Read Matthew 7:1 – “Judge not, lest thee be judged.” Period. That’s it. End of conversation.

Rule #1. No judging. Ever. God’s way better than you and me; only He gets to do that.

Second on the list is the hypocrisy beef. And another shocker alert; some people are going to think that I’m mental for saying this, but I would agree with the premise that we’re kind of hypocritical. Hypocrisy is defined in Webster as “the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one's own practice or behavior does not conform; pretense.” We all try very hard to be more like Christ.

And then we fail. Sometimes miserably. We go to church and hear an incredible message, have a Wednesday night meeting that really touches our heart, go on a mission trip that really opens our eyes, and then we get out of the setting and big dumb stupid do the opposite. We know we must be humble before the Lord but then let our pride get in the way. We know we must serve our God but then we also serve money as a master. We know we should pray and then we don’t make time to. We become selfish instead of selfless. We try to take what we can instead of giving until we can’t. We. Screw. Up.

And Christ is amazing, because he forgives and forgives when we don’t deserve it. “Claim to have moral standards to which one’s behavior does not conform.” Yep. That about sums it up for me. If we’re to be truly honest, that’s a defining characteristic of Christianity. That’s why we needed Christ. Because we are not hypocrites but we certainly have hypocritical tendencies. Because we do fall short. Because we don’t always practice what we preach. Because we don’t always do what we say we’ll do. We don’t always listen when God speaks.

Rule #2. Try to be more like Christ. Try not to be hypocritical. And confess and ask forgiveness when you are. And don’t let your pride get in the way. It’s ok that people see that you are human, that you aren’t perfect, and that you acknowledge that you need forgiveness.

Lastly is the outdated stigma. “The Bible was written for sheepherders who lived without electricity and indoor plumbing thousands of years ago. It doesn’t apply to me; I have Twitter! Moses couldn’t Google. Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey; I drive a Subaru. I mean, having good moral principle is a good thing and all, but I just don’t see how you people lean so heavily and place so much faith in an archaic book written thousands of years ago by people who don’t understand your problems and don’t live in the world we live in today. It’s outdated. It’s out of touch. It just doesn’t apply to these times.”

You’ve heard this. Or some variation of this.

As for this one…well, I’ll use that outdated book and prove just how “in the now” it is.

I bet I can find a few verses to apply to today. Heck, I bet I can do it on a daily basis for a good long stretch.

Challenge accepted.

And one blog entry begat another.

To be continued…..