The Back Side of Middle Age

Unless I live to be over 100 (doubtful), I'm on the back side of middle age. As I look around, I don't like the way it looks. I could get used to it, but the neighborhood is not as nice as I thought it would be and is not likely to say the same.

One of the first things you notice as you near and cross the peak is the physical stuff. Things stop working properly. Rust sets in. There are creaks and groans and squeaks. These evidence a lack of maintenance in most cases, but also are things that happen with high mileage. The human body is also like a mattress, getting heavier with age, and the reality is as gross as the analogy. Once again, poor maintenance is the reason.

The work mechanics do on you at this age changes, too. Doors marked "Exit Only" start to accept two-way traffic, something no man looks forward to. It becomes necessary, or so they say, to probe the dark recesses that were formerly mysterious and off-limits. To neglect these explorations is to allow dark trolls and ogres to dwell there. To rout these unwelcome guests, you have to give up some things you would rather hold on to.

The immortality you believed was yours is taken away. You begin to wonder, not if you will die, but how. Will it be the Big C? Heart attack? Something more exotic? I've always hoped for a plane crash of a specific kind. While I'm driving down the highway, it is my hope that a plane crashes into my car and kills me. Quick, mostly painless, and you don't have that minute or so to contemplate pain while the aluminum tube you're in plummets toward terra firma.

For me, this is all an exercise of curiosity. I'm not afraid of dying. Honestly, I probably dread certain types of death. I'd prefer something quick, but that's because I don't want to be sick and ebb away like the tide going out.

It's all academic though, isn't it? We don't choose unless we're cowards and we force the clock to chime before the hour. Also, there's no guarantee that it happens in due time. Though it's thankfully rare enough, many do die before their time.

Yet the back side of middle age isn't all about contemplating your exit. For some, there are regrets. For others, time is spend wondering what you can do with what remains. Yet others just sit back and watch things unfold. I want to be active and proactive, but gravity often works against me. Sitting and watching is so much easier.

Yet in spite of all the unknowns, I know that I don't want to be one of those pale, fat people that spend their waning years wallowing in hedonism. They fill casinos, cruse ships, tour buses, RV parks, golf courses and foreign cities. They believe they've paid their dues, and it's all about fun now. It's about doing what they want to do. They've created their own modern day equivalent of Timothy Leary's "Turn on. Tune in. Drop out."

I don't know what I'll end up doing with my last decades, but I don't want it to be squandered on consumption alone. I still want to be productive. I want to be available for my kids in their adult years and for their kids, too; not sailing the Seven Seas or camping out at an AYCE buffet, gorging on beef-a-ghetti. All I need to do now is get in better shape, then we'll see what happens.

No Regrets

Every day, there are people that die in tragic, unexpected ways. Car wrecks. Random, murderous acts. Sudden heart failure. I live in expectation of this myself. My mother died from a stroke in her sleep. I deal with families on a regular basis that are working through such losses. I often wonder if that will be my lot. If it is, I won't have time to say some things, so I say them here.
I have no regrets.

This doesn't mean I haven't made any mistakes. I've made plenty. However, that's part of living, isn't it? We learn from our mistakes so that we will hopefully end up better from them and not make them again and again.

This also doesn't mean that I wouldn't change things--decisions I've made--if that supernatural opportunity presented itself. They would be small things though, small things that in the grand scheme don't really matter. My college degree. Jobs I would work toward. Time spent learning to play the guitar. Looking over this list seems trite, petty and nit-picky. Small potatoes.
What it does mean is that, on the whole, my life has been an experience I wouldn't want to change. I might rewrite some of the dialogue, but I wouldn't rewrite whole scenes or cut scenes that didn't work out just right.

I married the right woman. She gave me beautiful kids, each of whom have brought unique blessings to my life that are priceless, none of which I would trade for anything else. I've been blessed with many good friends, certainly many more than I deserve. I've had experiences with them that are rich as well.

My life stretches behind me like a fat scrapbook, bulging with snapshots, school photos, awkward family portraits, and mementos of graduations, weddings, and funerals. I leaf through its pages and there are poorly focused snapshots and professionally composed ones side by side. I never come to a section that I wish I could rip out and throw away. Even the darker times are part of my life. They provide contrast, making the rich, saturated colors of the good times seem all the more bright and intense.

This life has not presented me with many opportunities for fame and/or fortune. It's been simple. It's been rather austere, though I have experienced more luxuries that I ever thought possible. Complexity and richness don't fall on the same continuum though. Simplicity can be, and is often very rich, in experiences and most certainly in blessings. The simple things in life often end up being the most profound.

As life stands before me now though, I still have no regrets. God has been good to me. Very good. I thank Him for my life. I thank Him for every part of it. Therefore, if by His design, it ends now, know that I will go into eternity a satisfied man.

A Spiritual Man

In my line of work, I've heard it many times. In discussing a deceased family member, the comment is offered:

 "He was a (very) spiritual man."

Though I never know for sure what this means in every situation, I think I know. Since I'm speculating, allow me the freedom of possibly being wrong. However, I wouldn't say this if I didn't know it to be true in more than a few situations.

What I think it means is that this person believes in God or someone like Him. They believe He exists, possibly that He is Creator, and maybe even that we should regard Him in some way. However, they have decided to come to God on their own terms, not His. They have decided to create a god more in tune with their own likings and to worship it instead.

By referring to someone in such generic terms as "a spiritual person", it usually means that more precise terminology such as "devout Christian" would not accurately describe them. One has to also assume that calling someone a "spiritual person" may also be a stretch, an effort to give someone credit for piety that they most likely did not have to a meaningful degree.

My wife is a quilter, a hobby and pastime that I have always encouraged in her, as I see it to be both creative and useful. My grandmother was a quilter, too, so my family heritage is awash in the quilter culture. My grandmother made two types of quilts. One was a more artistic, planned and patterned quilt. The other was the simply functional quilt in which scraps were sewn together with little thought to pattern and color scheme. In these quilts, the virtue was seen in the quilt's colorfulness. The brighter and more outlandish, the better.

The theology of these "spiritual" people seems to be like these hodgepodge quilts:  a mashed-together series of ideas and beliefs whose only connecting trait is that they appeal to this person. In a discussion of spiritual matters, this person might say, "Well, I believe...", and then insert some belief or another. If you were to press them to defend this belief, you would find them squirming on that classic shifting sand on which such homemade beliefs reside. Their belief system would most likely draw on notions or hearsay, passed down or gleaned from family or the misguided populace at large.

If God is the same yesterday, today and forever--and I believe He is--then this type of "spirituality" will most certainly not please Him. The historic record of the Judeo-Christian God shows Him to be generally intolerant of dissension and unaccepting of deviations from His revealed directions. I like this. I would rather worship a God who means what He says and stands by it.  When the "spiritually-minded" stand before the Good and Righteous Judge, believing in something that is only God-like and is based on whimsy will be no better than believing in nothing at all.

God is a loving and forgiving God, but this doesn't mean that everyone will benefit from His love or forgiveness. We do not deserve His love or forgiveness, yet He offers it to those who come to Him on His terms. He is God, after all, and who are we to dictate terms to Him.

Coming to God on your own terms usually means that you don't want to be subject to Him because you believe He is too harsh, too unloving. In the vacuum that is Biblical disbelief, any contrary belief looks at home. When you see God as only a God of love, not a God capable or willing to dish out judgement or punishment, then that perverse kind of love becomes all-important. Who cares about sin or forgiveness? All we need is love.

If you believe this--that God is only a God of love and He's willing to wink at our sinfulness--then you probably also see anyone that upholds a Biblically-based standard that calls people to turn from sin and seek God's forgiveness--as hateful and unloving. How calling our fellow man to repent and to address our Creator on His terms can be construed as hateful is beyond my understanding. Indifference is the hateful path. Choosing to allow someone to live in ignorance of facts that would impact their eternity is the exact opposite of being loving.

There's an old saying: "If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything." If your faith is a pick-and-choose patchwork quilt of disparate pieces, then that's not faith in the real God. Life is not cafeteria-style, where you can pick and choose what you want to believe and what you want to cast aside. If you think it is, then you are a victim of the ages-old heresy that faith itself matters, not the object of your faith.

Shifting sand is no place to build your house, spiritual person. Build on something solid.

The Failures of a Perfectionist

 I'm a perfectionist. Not an obsessive/compulsive one, but a perfectionist none the less.
Those of us that are perfectionists should know the pitfalls of being this way. We are, after all, surrounded by people who aren't concerned with perfection or even doing their best, and there's nothing we can do about it. However, the worst part about being a perfectionist is that I never do anything perfectly. I am plagued, tormented and haunted by things I've done imperfectly. Decisions I've made that were severely flawed, things I've made that show gross imperfection, and interactions with people that have gone horribly awry: these are the ghosts that swirl around me, trying to get my attention and trying to scare me with their noise.
Thankfully, I'm not afraid of ghosts. They are annoying though and they do succeed in distracting my focus away from where it should be.

Right now, I'm second-guessing a decision I made some 13 years ago. It was a career choice I made in a vacuum of alternatives, which made it seem right at the time. There was not much else to consider at the time, option-wise. Also, the job has done an adequate job of providing for my family for these 13 years, so I suppose it's not a total loss. However, the present has me wondering if this was a good decision for the long run.

I'm tending to believe it is not. I'm thinking it may be time to change course. Best case scenario is that my career of the last 13 years was a good choice at the time, yet I'm at the end of that path and find myself at a fork. Turn left and stay here. Turn right and move into uncharted territory. I can see further down the road to the left. I feel like I know where it's going, and that's what makes me want to turn right. The path to the right is wholly unknown, yet it draws me. I feel that I'm an explorer at heart, and this heart is telling me, "Turn right!".

This troubles me because I'm also looking at the glass as half-empty. I'm thinking about how much of a waste it was. I'm wondering why I didn't do something else 13 years ago--something I might enjoy and be challenged by thirteen or twenty or thirty years later.

I've also discovered that perfectionists have to be careful with their children. There is a tendency to be controlling and to try and mold your children's outcomes to resemble what your outcomes would have been. This is a difficult line to follow. You don't know when your being a helpful teacher or a micro-manager. When you wait for them to ask for help, are you being insensitive or uncaring? Who knows how many times I've erred by omission or co-mission on this one.

Its usually a good idea to temper your perfectionism with reality. Do your best. When your best falls short, know it was your best and move on. Give others the grace to do the same or to disregard perfection altogether.

Perfectionism is a frustrating existence. Yet I want to be right here where I am, aware of my shortcomings and failures. The people I worry about aren't the failures. They at least tried something that led to failure. The ones that trouble me the most are those who don't care about doing their best and who are comfortable in their failure, not seeing anything amiss in falling short so consistently. As a perfectionist, I know I'm not perfect, but I am confident that I do some things right some of the time.

I can live with that.

Thought That Counts

We've all heard the phrase, "It's the thought that counts." This sentiment usually accompanies a gift or action which may or may not have any real value, yet the consideration is supposed to carry the primary value.

I've tried to teach my children what this really means. I've taught them that arbitrarily giving gifts just to relieve an obligation or to perhaps win approval from the recipient is a selfish act, the end result being that we feel better for having given a gift. In this context, little thought is given to the recipient and little thought is given to the gift and its propriety.

In their younger years, one of my girls had a friend. We all remember one occurrence when this friend came over, bearing a gift for my daughter. After giving it to her, she said, "You can have this. I don't want it any more."

I also just read an article about Jessica Alba, bragging about teaching her 4-year-old daughter the benefits of giving to the less fortunate by donating her belongings when she's become tired of them or has outgrown them.

There is also a story I remember about the Bill and Hillary Clinton donating used clothing to either the Salvation Army or Goodwill. In this donation was three pair of used underwear that were valued at $2/pair for the purposes of itemizing the "gift" as a charitable contribution for their 1986 tax return.

"It's the though that counts."

There is nothing inherently noble in giving our cast-offs or giving a small portion out of our abundance. That gift has little value in itself, and if it has any value, that must be determined by someone else. Even when we donate used items to resellers, such as the Salvation Army or Goodwill, the item only has value when someone decides to purchase it from their store. We attribute fictitious value to our cast-offs, thinking ourselves generous and caring for gracing a lesser being with our no-longer-needed or -wanted things. Sure, someone may find this useful, however just because someone digs through a dumpster to find something to eat doesn't mean we've done them a favor by putting it there. When our gifts to others are handed down from a lofty place, it is more insulting and demeaning to the recipient than a gift should be. If we do give these things to others, it should most certainly be from a place of humility, thinking carefully of their feelings and their personhood.

Another lesson I've tried to communicate is that giving in a meaningful way is sacrificial. If I received a $25 gift card from certain friends, it would almost be insulting, as I know that they sacrificed little or nothing to give this amount. There are other friends though for whom a $25 gift would be a real sacrifice and would carry meaning far beyond the amount given.

I've also tried to communicate that gift giving requires thought, not in that you thought to give a gift, but that you thought about what you would give this person. Granted, some are hard to buy for and we often have little ideas about what would make a meaningful gift for them, but we should strive to see that our giving is as meaningful as it can be.

Some friends of mine gave me a pipe for my birthday once. It was purchased at a flea market, so it was used, and it wasn't a necessarily expensive brand, yet they knew I was a collector and they thought about my passions and desires when giving this gift. I enjoyed this gift far more than I would have enjoyed a $50 Target gift card.

Gift cards have become an obligation-filler. Unless it has purpose behind it, i.e., it's to a special store or it is focused on a particular need the recipient has, it is virtually meaningless and serves only to soothe our conscience.

There are other thoughtful ways to show our love for friends and family. Recently, some friends invited us over to their house to celebrate my birthday. This was a very meaningful gift. There weren't any actual gifts exchanged, but there was some yummy brisket and delectable sweets, not to mention that we were able to spend some time with some of our favorite people. Once again, much better than a $50 Target gift card.

So in our gift-giving and in our daily contact with friends and family, let us remember that thoughtfulness counts. Let others see that we think, and that when we do think, its not always about ourselves.

The Fabric of Time

Being a fan of some science fiction genre pieces, I have seen my share of time travel movies and television shows. They usually take different approaches to the topic, with a unique twist here or there.

There's the situation when you can go back and time and see yourself, so basically there are two of you, one in the present and another from the future. Then there's the situation when you go back in time and there's only one of you, but you have your knowledge from the future. Also, if you travel forward, you go to the future, but your knowledge only extends up to the point in time when you traveled forward.

There's always talk of upsetting the timeline and changing history. You don't want to see yourself or tell yourself, "Hey, you're fat in the future, so you may want to think of taking better care of us." Other theories consider how the future changes with every iteration; every time it is relived, a new outcome arises from the chaotic assemblage of circumstance and random choice.

There's also another plot line that addresses a more outlandish concept, that there are myriad timelines, the number being limited by the number of possible choices in any given circumstance. All of these exist as threads, woven into the tapestry of time. We typically only experience one of these "threads", so we have no real awareness of these multiple realities. This has been a common theme on numerous Star Trek and Stargate episodes in most of their different series (Probably also in other sci-fi series, but I'm most familiar with these).

In my opinion, the concept of time travel is great for science fiction, yet it is just that:  fiction. In our physical world, time is unidirectional and linear. It's like a burning fuse, the flame moving steadily in one direction, the fuse behind the flame spent. The fuse doesn't double back on itself or burn from both ends or anything weird like that.

The future doesn't yet exist, so you cannot go there. The past is spent and will never again exist in a time-and-space reality. Therefore, any concept of moving between present, past and future is pure fancy. Also, there are multiple choices at any given point in the present, but only one timeline exists, there being only room for one reality in it. In other words, I may have several choices about what I will eat for supper tonight, but come tomorrow morning, I will have made only one choice and only that choice will exist in reality.

The concept of multiple realities is a cool one, often pushed to ridiculous limits, made cooler because it allows each of us to imagine the possibility of ourselves living in other realities in entirely different circumstances. I've been there, speculating to foolish lengths about the "other me".

There's the Me that went to a different college to study engineering. I would end up married to someone else, as my wife in this reality met me at the college I went to in this reality which didn't have an engineering school.

There's also the Me that was more serious about music in his high school years. Frankly, I don't know what would have happened to this fellow, but I hope it would have lead to fame and fortune.

Then there's the Me that made different relationship choices in high school. This dude would probably be the most miserable of all, as the prospects available at that time wouldn't have led me down any path that would end well.

There are also outcomes and realities that I imagine arising from smaller, less significant decisions along the way. A different job here. Another choice there. A different church. More motivation and initiative, or perhaps less.

In these scenarios, we imagine ourselves most often as being happier, wealthier, more successful or with fewer flaws. We seldom consider that the other version of ourselves may be unhappier, poorer, a failure, or the biggest loser imaginable. That kind of speculation is not fun, so we avoid it.

Movies concerning time travel, specifically going backwards in time, usually allow the traveler the convenience of carrying his knowledge back with him. Also, the choices in that reality are fixed, i.e., if you don't upset the timeline with any new developments, things unfold exactly the same way every time. Change one outcome though, and the change cascades throughout time with often drastic results (the "Terminator" movies). 

In my opinion, the most unique concept of time travel found in the movies is from The Butterfly Effect, starring Ashton Kutcher. Every time he traveled back in time to correct one thing, small changes in decisions yielded oftentimes drastic outcomes years down the road. The outcomes were random and unpredictable and differed drastically in each timeline. In this scenario, nothing could be gained from traveling back in time. Returning to the future, you would find everything different, and no outcome could be predicted or assumed based on any action in the past.

All of this is academic, as time travel is not possible, however it makes for some interesting musing. Just don't become one of those desperate souls like Uncle Rico, so dissatisfied with the present that happiness can only be found in the past.

The Enemy Within

    For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.
    So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin.  (Romans 7:14-25 ESV)

There is a tendency amongst some evangelicals to blame negative outcomes, poor judgement or blatant or not-so-blatant sin on external forces, most often demonic "oppression". Less than ideal outcomes end up being the fault of a will-o'-the-wisp bent on frustrating our best efforts. At the risk of offending some of my well-intentioned brethren, I must say that I find it amusing that people who should know better would say this. Sure, I believe the Forces of Darkness are at work--the Scriptures are very plain about this. But I don't believe that these forces have the power to force their will on us, causing us to take courses we would otherwise not take. I believe they have the power to influence us and lure us with any temptation available, yet I remain convinced that the choice is always ours. We choose to sin. We choose to make bad decisions. We listen to those proverbial voices from each shoulder and decide for ourselves.

There is another verse found in Jeremiah 17:9 which reads, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" (ESV). This more accurately explains where the true darkness is to be found: the human heart. Now this, the heart, is metaphorical in this sense and isn't the muscular organ responsible for pumping our blood. Instead, it refers more to the soul of a person:  the mind, will and emotions, or those intangible parts of us that have no physical form yet exist nonetheless.

It would indeed be convenient if we could blame our actions on external forces. However, drawing this conclusion requires that we disregard what is obvious to us all. The one common factor in all of our downfalls, mistakes and sins is us.

Even though I, too, often succumb to idiotic notions that my decisions can be reasonably blamed on someone or something else, I know what's really going on. There are times I reflect on a past action, marveling that the idiot that did that thing was me. Usually, it seems a foreign notion that I can fall to such levels of depravity. My shame swells when I see that I am not only capable of such bad stuff, but that I often choose this path against everything that I know and believe.

Things most often kept in check can sneak out at weak moments and show us just how deceitful and sick our heart really is. Weak moments: there is the flaw. We have weak moments, moments when our personal desires clash with what is right or good, and desire is the victor. We become weak when we begin to meditate on those things that are not conducive to right thinking. If I have a particular weakness that centers around lustful thoughts, then I need to become extra vigilant when the things that fuel these thoughts cross my path. If my guard is dropped in these moments, then that right jab will most likely connect with my glass jaw and down I go.

It might be considered unkind or unloving to say such things. After all, this is a frontal assault on self-esteem. How are we going to feel good about ourselves when we are confronted with the notion that our sinfulness is a buck that we cannot pass. I believe it is more harmful when we ignore reality and grasp for the vapors of our own self-righteousness. Dealing with the truth of this matter directly, even when the subject matter is unpleasant and unflattering, leaves us in a territory much closer to where we should be.