Love Me If You Can

It seems as though Country Music has been speaking to me lately. The last several posts were spurred by Country songs. This one has been nagging at me for some time. I love the song "Love Me If You Can" performed by Toby Keith. Most of his songs touch me close to my heart. At least the heartfelt ones. Even some of the ones written in jest. But this one in particular, this one hits a vein. The chorus of the song goes,

I'm a man of my convictions
Call me wrong, call me right
But I bring my better angels to every fight
You may not like where I'm goin'
But you sure know where I stand
Hate me if you want to
Love me if you can

There's a story to be told of how this song relates to my life. I am a man of my convictions. I believe what I believe. I don't necessarily claim to be right. But when I state my position on a matter, there is no doubt where I stand. I don't waste my breath with useless words. Does that make any sense, given that most of my blogs leave you drained simply because you have to scroll down so much? But it's true. I don't bother saying it, if I don't mean it. Again, I'm not saying I'm always right. I'm not even saying you couldn't change my mind. Or that I couldn't change my own mind. But when I say something, I mean it. That being said, I agree with the points made in the song.

I pray for peace, and understanding. But I understand the necessity of war.

I sometimes feel, after going 'round and 'round, that we should just agree to disagree.

I believe that one of the most important parts of being in this country is our ability to speak our mind, express our beliefs and opinions, without the government persecuting us. But I do worry about what my kids are exposed to.

I also believe that when you open your mouth, you better be prepared for the repercussions. I believe that your free speech should be subject to the scrutiny of those you are speaking to or about, but that it shouldn't be silenced, maybe just ignored or countered.

I believe that as an American, we should be free to protect ourselves, our families, our property. But we should teach those who look up to us the right way to do so.

And I believe that Jesus looks down on us. That God sent Him to pay for our sins. That when we ask God to forgive us, when we search to be more like Christ, that our lives will show His Love to those around us.

That being said, what I've really been pondering listening to this song in the past is, "What are my convictions?" What do I believe is right? I know my basic principles. "Repect God, Repect yourself, Respect Me." But what does that mean. How are my principles applied to my daily life. I've tried for some time to find my position, point by point. So here, I'll try:

I believe that each person on this earth is free to make their own decisions. But they are subject to the consequences, foreseen or not.

I believe that each person has a choice. In every circumstance, there is a choice. But it is your responsibility to find the alternative solution.

I believe that everyone should be free to worship whomever they chose, however they chose. But don't take my liberty to do the same away, because it offends you. Your religion doesn't offend me.

I believe that our elected officials should be free to allow their religious beliefs to guide their decisions. If you don't like it, run for office.

I believe that every child deserves a life. But the government should not tell a woman what to do with her body.

I believe that killing an pregnant woman is double murder. Yet I find it ironic that she may take the life that God has placed inside of her.

I believe that animals should be respected and treated as a gift from God.
But I will continue to be nourished by those that are placed here to provide such.

I believe that every child should receive proper health care. But I don't think I should pay for it, or the salaries of the hundreds of people the government needs to oversee the process.

I believe that our children need to be better educated. But there are plenty of amazing teachers that go unnoticed, unappreciated every minute of every day.

I believe that teachers are underpaid, and under supported. But they need to be paid for teaching, not being a teacher.

I believe every person should put pride in their work. But they should be paid what they're worth.

I believe that the press, the media, the celebrities should be allowed to express their opinions. But they should not be given any more of a platform than the man living under a bridge.

I believe that those individuals may still chose to use their platform. If they do, they should be held to a higher level of scrutiny.

I believe that man living under the bridge should find a job. But he should be cared for and helped by those individuals or private organizations that can help him.

I believe we should find ways to help those who need it. But we should teach them the skills to succeed on their own.

I believe all levels of government should be held accountable to the services they provide. But realize some of those services are necessary.

I believe it doesn't take a Village to raise a child. And definitely not a state or a nation. Rather a mother and father. Together, supporting each other.

I believe we should all love our neighbor, and our enemy. But understand that we must protect ourselves, our way of living, our security.

I believe we need to be secure. But should not give up the things our forefathers worked to achieve.

I believe no soul should have to die for our freedom. But would be proud of any child of mine that chose to fight that battle.

I believe we should stand behind those fighting for our freedom.
If you disagree, feel free to stand in front of them.

I believe that my ancestors fought for freedom from England to provide the opportunity for you and your ancestors to experience freedom. But that freedom should be achieved by the laws that govern it.

I believe that freedom under our constitution is an entitlement due any citizen of this great nation, by birth or by naturalization. But that freedom must be respected.

I believe that we all have culture, ancestry, religious beliefs, ethnicity. But we are all Americans.

I believe we should cherish our ancestry. But the flag we fly should carry 13 red and white stripes and 50 stars.

I believe we should all fly that flag in respect, every day. But we should respect the sovereignty of other nations.

I believe that on our soil, that flag should fly above all others. But that we shouldn't hold it above God.

I believe that God is our One True God. But am willing to let you believe otherwise.

I believe we should all bow down to Him. But if you don't, I will love you as He wants me to.

I believe that if you don't believe in Him, you will not be saved. But if I am wrong, only I and the other 1/3 of the world's population that will suffer the consequence.

I believe that I love each one of you. The friend. The spouse. The parent. The child. The family member. The person I have yet to meet. And you can "hate me if you want to." Or you can "love me if you can."

God bless each of you. And may we all be firm in that which we believe to be true. Bless those who have fought, here and abroad, against friend and foe to provide those freedoms for which we all enjoy.

Remember When

Remember When

Alan Jackson sang the song. I've known the song. I could probably sing every word right along with him. But I never really listened. I never heard the words. It came on during our last trip up north. It was Labor Day weekend. Just before my surgery. It was about 1 am. We had been listening to CD's most of the way. We were passing through downtown Eagle River on our way to my parent's place up there. We turned the radio on, we had been discussing things. Life. Memories, good and bad. We just kind of stopped talking for a minute, and I actually listened to the song. It was the first time I had really heard the words. The meaning. It was amazing, it could have been written about us.
We've been together for a long time. I think we figured out that it's been at least 15 years. We dated several times growing up. We had a steady relationship through most of high school. We went our separate ways, but always seemed to find each other. Always see each other in crowds, even when we weren't there. Then, one night at the bar we used to dance at growing up. I walked in the door to meet a friend. My friend stepped aside, and there she was, sitting against the wall. Our eyes met, and we were right back were we had been all those times before. She was my first true love. She is and has been the one that knows me. That understands me, an amazing task in itself. But then, she loves me too. We've begun growing old together.
The song talks about "thinking 30 seems so old" All I've thought about since I turned 21 is how I'm going to be 30. Now, I'll be 29 in a couple of months. Let's just say, I'm coming to grips with the following year. She's helped me through it. She's stood beside me. Behind me. She's held my hand, and I've held hers. She is my life's blood. This last test of our love proves it. I would wake up in the middle of the night, multiple times. I'd just lay there in the hospital bed and stare at her sleeping in the chair next to me. I'll never forget when I came out of surgery. Everyone had been warning me that I'd be groggy, that I wouldn't remember much about recovery. Which I don't. But I remember being carted down the hallway. From the operating room to the recovery room. Or to my hospital room, it doesn't matter. But I remember. I had been so nervous about this surgery. I wasn't freaking out, I knew it was what had to be done. And I'm glad I did it. But things weren't in order. I didn't have a will written. Yes, there are various provisions in place, should something happen to me. But I didn't have time to make sure they were all in order. I wrote a will quick, just in case, the night before my surgery.
But in that hallway, everything was calmed. I had no idea where I was. But I saw her. She was standing against the wall when I went by. I have no idea of the expression on her face. All I know is I saw her. I knew at that moment that everything was okay. It was the most peaceful moment I've ever had. She said she didn't hear me, maybe I was talking in my head like I tend to do under anesthesia. But all I said was, "hey baby" The sight of her, made me secure. It always has. When I'm away working for a long time. When she's out without me. When I see her, it makes me calm. It makes me feel like everything is in place. Life's things don't matter. Material possessions don't last. "Love is all we knew" It's all I know today. Love for my wife. Love for my family. Love for my God.
Now we can grow old together. I long for the day when we can welcome our grandchildren into our house. She thinks I'm nuts when I say I want 8 kids. She jokes that I better find 6 more women. But what really I want is to see our love grow through the generations. I want to be 60, and have a house full of people. I want to know that those little lives exist because of our love. Because we showed our kids how to love. And they showed their kids how to love. "Remember When, we said when we turned grey, when the children grow up and move away; we won't be sad, we'll be glad; for all the life we've had, Remember When..." I will always remember the life we've shared. The life we continue to share. I wouldn't trade a minute of it, good or bad, for any life that didn't have her in it. She is the dream that have when I go to bed. She is the happiness that I feel in my heart. She is the joy that shows through my eyes. And our children are a reminder to me, of that love we share.
My prayer for each of you is that you may share that feeling with someone special. That you may know that God put this person on earth to stand with you in your daily trials. That He knew exactly the type of person it would take to tame my soul. And I thank Him every day, that He chose her. Now, when She reads this though, she'll probably say I'm way too much of a sap. But that's okay. I love her, and endless words are and have always been the best way to show it. That is other than going upstairs right now, wrapping my arms tight around her, kissing her on the forehead, and hoping I don't wake her up when I do.

Little Man's Little Hands

I have this picture Brittny took of mine and my sons hands holding on to a railing on a playground. That was already 2 years ago. He was a little boy. I thought then that the was my little man. Now, he's going to be 3 in less than 3 weeks. He's even more of my little man. He will be so for long after he doesn't want to be known that way. Brittny doesn't let him call her "mom" When he says it, she says, "What's my name?" He gets real giggly, "Mommy!" She says, "Maybe when you're 30 you can call me mom"
It scares me that he's growing up so fast. Being home this last month, I've been able to witness so much. The last year has been pretty rough on our family. Mostly, simply because I'm never home. From work and working late, to doing things at church. From side jobs to just being on the run. I wasn't home. I saw my kids at lunch time, if I was lucky enough to get home. Then I was gone every night. Every weekend. It's amazing, looking back, how much I've missed already. I want to be the dad that is there for football games, cheerleading, soccer, baseball, gymnastics, band concerts, plays. Whatever they decide to do I want my kids to be involved in sports. In music, or arts. And I want to be a part of that involvement. We are blessed that Brittny is able to stay home with the kids. I am also making it a point to be around more. I want my kids to know I love them. I want to show them I love them.
I challenge all of you. If you have children, show them you love them. Hug them. Kiss them. Tell them, every chance you get. If you don't have children, I know there is at least one out there that means the world to you. That you would cherish as your own. Do the same. The love that shows in a child's eyes. The innocence is priceless. Hold that child tight. Tell them you love them. Let them know they are safe in this world that never really seems to make sense. Peace and love to each one of you.

Time Marches On

Time marches on. It passes by minute by minute. I have been meaning to get back to writing. I just sat down and read through my previous posts. Then I look at the clock and it's 45 minutes later. The minutes pass like seconds. The hours like minutes. The days link hours. The years like days.

The last post was April of 2006. Almost 18 months ago. What's happened in 18 months? I'm no longer the late nite dad of a one year old. I'm the late nite dad of a one year old, and an almost 3 year old. My son is not only talking, he's talking back. My daughter is already a year old, and my angel. My wife is as much the love of my life as the first day I met her. I am almost 30! We won't go there. I know I've got more than a year to go. I'm working on it. That's another post for another time.
Here's where I'm at. I had back surgery almost 3 weeks ago. I had a severely herniated disk, and another moderately herniated one below that. I've been out of work for a month. I've got over a week to go before I can consider going back to light duty assignments. Figure that out, given I drive around and get in and out of a car all day. But what this episode of my life has given me is time to reflect. Time to be with my family, good or bad. In a previous post, I referred to Brittny and my inability to spend more than 3 continuous days together. While we are still driving each other nuts from time to time, it's been 3 weeks. I could not imagine anyone I would rather have by my side going through this. We do irritate each other, through what we do, or don't do. Or how we do it. But we love each other. We live for each other. We love our family. We live for our family. We love our God. We live for our God.

I thank God for my health. For my children. Now my daughter is the sponge that follows me around. She doesn't settle for drinking her soup from the bowl. She uses a fork for about 10 minutes. Then she lifts the plate to her face and digs in. Think Christmas Story, "eat like a piggy" She giggles, she laughs, she hugs, she kisses. She says dadda, t-this, she signs more. She throws a fit when her brother takes a toy. She breaks down balling when you scold her. She pulls all the books off the bookshelf, sits atop the pile and reads each one. "Da-la, ba-bi, me-mae, di-boo" She hugs her babies and pushes them around in their stroller. She keeps her mom up in the way early morning, and leaves dad alone so he can sleep! She's my angel. She has the softest eyes, that can't decide what color they're going to be. She has fire for hair. She's my red head. Maybe she'll even get her mommy's freckles. She shows the love that you show her. She giggles at everyone. She lays her head on your shoulder, closes her eyes for brief moments. You feel the love and affection flowing between. She is growing like a weed. She is huge, then you compare baby books, and she's actually smaller than her brother was. But she has muster. She can stand up to him. Push him around, yells at him. She grips things so tight, it takes two hands to get them away. But then she'll come out with this dainty little voice, "Tee-hee" I write this as I look at my profile picture of us at a parade. She knows how to melt her daddy's heart, even when it's hardened like stone.

Then there is her brother. He is almost a teenager. He has passion. He has drive. He's stubborn like his dad. He's determined like his mom. He picks out his cloths. He shoots lasers out of his wrist. Thank you Buzz Lightyear. At least he gave up trying to leap across the room from one couch to the other! Now you can't tell if he's Buzz or Spiderman. He's learning. He amazes me with his knowledge. He knows all the letters of the alphabet. Even if V comes after D, and G comes before L. He's learning. I was in the kitchen typing an e-mail. He was in the living room watching a new TV show on PBS. Small kid alert, Word World is a great learning show. Before they say the letters, there he is, "R, U, N" read them right off the screen. He can go on a bear hunt, or say goodnight to the moon as good as daddy. Neither one of us need to open the books. He knows that monsters are only in the movies. He knows he's got to tell us when he has to go potty, so the flags on the front of his Cars pull-ups don't go away. He knows his NASCAR drivers. We're working on the big changes coming up next season. But, he knows 8 is "Baby Dale", 3 is "Daddy Dale", 20 or Home Depot (even the store) is Tony Stewart, 9 is Kasey Kahne, even if the book he's reading says Bill Elliot. 29 is number 1, or Mommy's favorite, or Kevin H-Harvick. 48 or Lowe's is Jimmy Johnson, 24 is Jeff Gordon, "Pee-weu" He is worrying me though. When we were racing slot cars at his grandpa's, he wanted to be Jeff Gordon. I finally came to grips when I figured, okay, he probably drives about as well right now.

He builds Brio train tracks. No circles for him. He's like his daddy. They go over, under, around, split off and come back together. There can't be 3 different trains on different points of the track like daddy does it though, every car has to be connected. He walked into Preschool all by himself yesterday, carrying his Cars backpack that's as big as he is. He wears stylish cloths, "Cool threads" He says his prayers at night. He stops eating long enough to bow his head and mumble along to grace at the table. He tries to whistle along to "Oh Mister Sun" by really just humming in a high pitch. He cuddles, he loves, he kisses. He's the rambunctious, hyper, excited kid, until he gets outside of these 4 walls. In school, he's quiet, shy, bashful even. At orientation, the teachers kept asking us if he was okay. We'd look over and find him with his head stuck in the cubby where they store the toys. He comes over every now and then and hugs your leg.

He notices little things. My parents kept them for almost a week when I had surgery. I wasn't very mobile. I still can't lift them. And we were worried about me getting kicked or a knee in the back. When he saw me walk up my parents stairs to get them, he said "Daddy, you no need cane! Doctors make you all better?" He's got more bumps, bruises, and scares on his body. He brushes himself off. He sometimes needs a kiss on his forehead, where he fell off the retaining wall and landed face first on the sidewalk. He's right back to playing, jumping on the bed, running around the house getting his sister to chase him. He loves animals, sports, fire engine, police man, tractors, choo-choo trains. He says, "bumpity-bumpity" every time we hit a bump or go over train tracks. He has to have me say "Snug as a bug in a rug" as I'm wrapping him so tight in his towel that he can't move his arms. Then he waddles into the other room, steps on the step, and kinda jump-rolls onto the bed. He's taking his own showers, usually with me sitting in the bathtub. He wants to wash his own hair, cut his own pizza, pour his own lemonade. Unlock the car door. He says, "Me do it" He thinks he can make himself safe in a parking lot. When you tell him to hold your hand, he says he'll hold his own hand, and he does.

This is my family. This is the beginning of me growing old. This is my opportunity to put my stamp on the world. To sign at the bottom, where it says, Dad. Dad, meaning forever the one to lend a hand. The one to get money from. The one who can be more intimidating than mommy. The one who will stick up for you. The one who will reward you. The one who will do more for you than you will ever know. The one who will lead you down the road, get to the end, and then follow you down the next to make sure you're okay. The one who will pray for you every night. Who will worry about you every minute. Miss you every second you're not here. And the one who will turn off the computer at 1:30 in the morning, after typing a record long post, and go upstairs and cuddle up to my wife, my son, and my daughter all. Because, I'm sure by now, they are all in my bed, spread out, giving me the edge to hold onto. Fortunately for me, he holds on to me, so I won't fall off.

Good night to all. Prayers of safety. Of happiness and fulfillment. Of dreams come true. And ambitions met. Good night and again, God bless each of you as he has so abundantly to me.

Coming Back

I'm making it a point. After over a year with no postings. After having a second child. After growing a lifetime in my experiences of being a father. I'm coming back. See you soon.