unwrapping nostalgia

Pulling out of the driveway on his way back to see his wife and son at the hospital the day after his son was born, Bob pressed record on the cassette player. This was long before the advent of video cameras, digital recorders, and other modern recording devices. He had an 8mm movie camera. But because it lacked the ability to record sound and his goal was to record his thoughts, he carefully placed the family tape recorder in the passenger seat and left for the hospital.

This was a significant moment in his life; in the life of his young family. It was their second child, a son; they named him Robert, Jr. He wanted to remember it; to preserve it. For what specifically, he wasn't sure. He merely knew that this was a tape-worthy moment. As he drove the forty-four blocks in the family's white Buick alone, he poured out his heart, his emotion. He spoke of his joy and his hopes. He was methodical and eloquent in his approach and delivery, not disheveled as could be expected under the circumstances. He understood the magnitude of what he was doing and wanted to leave nothing out. He was, and is to this day, a sentimental man. The moment was one to remember, and thanks to the tape recorder faithfully chronicling every word and sound from the passenger seat, it would be.

As he sat excitedly at one of the last stoplights before turning into the hospital's small parking lot, just beginning to wrap up his 10-15 minute emotion-filled discourse, he looked down at the recorder just long enough to see that the button labeled "pause" was also depressed. It was gone; all of it. Despite his best intention to record the full spectrum of emotion that he was feeling, none of it had been saved.

He quickly reset the machine and in the two remaining blocks attempted to recreate all that he had just said. He began by describing his first effort, and then moved quickly into describing his feelings once again. Understandably, this second attempt was hurried. The right words were no longer on the tip of his tongue. They escaped him. As the clutch and squeaky gear shifter provided background noise, the sound of humorous disappointment filled his words as he walked his future listener through the situation and his emotions. The result was a shorter, less eloquent version that still manages to convey the weight of the moment.

My dad shared this story with me while we were eating dinner at Jake's Grill in downtown Portland on my 30th birthday. It's a story that I had never heard before, but one that I could hear him tell over and over again. Although he laughs about the situation now, the emotion that he felt thirty years ago is still there. Later that night after opening gifts, as my parents and I sat talking in the living room, my dad slipped away. Thinking he was headed to the bathroom my mom and I thought nothing of it. A few minutes later he returned with a tape recorder and a tape. Thirty years later, and he knew right where it was. I couldn't believe that he still had it.

He pushed play and we all sat there filled with anticipation, waiting to hear those hurried words spoken thirty years ago by my dad, who was thirty years younger, about me who was less than one day old. I sat in stunned silence hearing my much younger dad's voice; his emotion; his pride.

It was surreal. And was hands down the most amazing birthday present I could have ever received.

Thanks Dad.

mother's day

Sunday was Mother's Day, and it was pretty dang sweet. I showed up at my parents house at about 7:30 a.m. with a bouquet of Lilacs (one of my mom's favorite flowers). They definitely weren't expecting me, and frankly I hadn't planned to see them. I was just going to leave the flowers on the porch with a card.

You see at 6 a.m. I was at PDX to see the Thailand May Serve team off. This is a group of students that is spending about three weeks working alongside ministries in Chaing Mai, Thailand. I really wanted to be there to affirm them in their calling to give up a portion of their summer for such a great purpose. This was my first May Serve send off, and I hope it wasn't my last.

So back to mom...I thought that we would be gone from the airport by about 6:30, I could drop the flowers off by 6:40 and my mom would have a surprise waiting for her when she woke up. Well, we didn't leave the airport until about 7:15...plan foiled. It didn't go the way that I thought it would, but I'm glad. I got to see my parents, give them hugs, and hand the flowers to my mom. I only wished I could have stayed longer (but I had other people in the car).

Yesterday, I was going through some old pictures and I found this one of my mom and I. If I remember correctly I was only a day old and we were still at the hospital (nice decor huh?). Okay, I don't remember that.

I love this picture. I can see the love that she had from me the day I was born. I see her beauty. This past Sunday as I dropped off the lilacs, nearly 30 years later, I saw that same love in her eyes. And, I saw that same beauty.

I love my mom.

I love you mom.

Jesus, All For Jesus

Yesterday at Baccalaureate we sang this song. I love its message, and pray that increasingly I am able to live out its words.

Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.

All of my ambitions, hopes and plans
I surrender these into Your hands.
All of my ambitions, hopes and plans
I surrender these into Your hands.

For it's only in Your will that I am free,
For it's only in Your will that I am free,
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.

why we resist...part 2

A couple weeks ago, I decided to tackle the question "Why do we resist authenticity?" As I began writing, I knew that I had more to say than anyone should attempt to fit into one post, so I added "part 1" to the title. That post centered around our desire to be loved. I've had a few conversations since the initial post and as a result I feel the need to slightly amend my central idea that everyone longs to be loved. I now think that the central idea should have been that we long for intimacy, which, in my mind, includes love. Maybe it's just semantics, but I think intimacy conveys a more complete sense of what I intended. If you haven't read my first post on the topic, you should (Cause why not? You're reading blogs right now anyway).

Now on to part 2...

Authenticity requires vulnerability. At the core of vulnerability there exists risk, which is the second reason that we resist authenticity. It's not that we don't want to be authentic. Nor are we opposed to the idea of authenticity. Instead, we are uncomfortable with the inherent risk involved. To some extent this touches on the fear that I talked about in my first post, but I think it goes beyond that.

To be truly authentic with others we must put ourselves in an uncomfortable and unknown position. We must be willing to place our heart in a state of vulnerability. We must lay down our deep seeded habit of trying to protect ourselves. We often resist this though because it opens the door for hurt, and we will do everything in our power to shelter ourselves, to be safe.

Over the past few months I've talked about this with a couple of close friends. In each of these conversations, we've talked about the risk/reward scenario that is played out each time we decide to be authentic or not. If we allow ourselves to open up, we can be truly known but are forced to accept the inherent risk involved. When we don't, we remain in relative safety but have no chance to be truly known. Our choice is easier if we have history with the other person. Exponentially more difficult is when we find ourselves having to decide whether to be authentic with someone that we just met or are just getting to know. Ultimately, the question comes down to whether we believe (or just feel in our gut) that we can trust the other person.

Often times the conversation makes it way to the question of whether our authenticity is worth it, knowing that it may lead to either a life-changing friendship or a lasting disappointment. Risk/Reward. That's all it is. So, is it worth it? I'll save that for another post.