Choose Your Own Adventure

When I was younger, I used to read "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. After a preliminary pass or two, I would flip through and survey the good and bad endings, working back one step or maybe a couple. The pages are numbered and even then I was passable at numbers. In my engineer mind, the theory was that I could work all the way back through the possibilities and know the choices to take and the choices to avoid to get to the ending I wanted. What usually happened was that I could recognize when I was about to reach a bad end with one or two steps to go and backtrack until I could "choose a different adventure".

My life is becoming pretty much the same way. I can locate the good ends and the bad ends to the story threads. I can discern the step or maybe two steps leading to most of the ends. However, I want to trace those ends back to the choices I'm presented with now so that I can follow an optimal path to where I want to go. I want to choose an adventure where I know the ending. That may or may not take some of the excitement out of it, but "it's the journey, not the destination that matters", right?

Instead, my life is more like the book - I see "here and now" and I see "there and then", but in between is just frayed ends and yawning emptiness. Sometimes my life is more like the books than I want to admit - some pages have lots of words, others only a few. I don't get to choose how long I stay on each page; God (the one who has written the book of my life) chooses how much he writes at each step. Then there are the pages with just one choice - "keep going" - that also describes some of my days. That's OK in a way because it means I can't make the wrong choice, but it also means that I'm locked into whatever path I'm on.

I started writing out of frustration, but along the way, the underlying emotion was revealed as fear. What I saw as frustration at not knowing the path ahead of me was also (from a different perspective) fear of not being in control. Pretty much the opposite of faith. Yep, I'm still working on my stuff. Why am I looking for that well-defined adventure path? Because, though I believe God has my best interests in mind, sometimes I still don't quite trust what I cannot see or reasonably assume.

Where does that leave me? Well, I could sit in the dark place of my frustration and/or fear or I could choose to walk out into the light. Again. Out of the dark into the light is a frequent theme in my life.

I choose, once again, to believe that God is who He says He is and that He'll do everything He's ever promised to do. I choose to believe that God is writing the adventure I'm on and that He will take care of me.

I still might wish (just a little) that He'd make the steps not quite as big, though...

I Blame Her: Speaking Ill Of The Dead

"There are no secrets at a funeral."

So said the testimony I was listening to as I drove home for Christmas this year. No secrets at a funeral. That's an interesting thought. One of the phrases I've heard occasionally has always been "Don't speak ill of the dead", usually used in the context of "Not to speak ill of the dead, but..."

Last year, I wrote on how my old relationship was dead and how I was finally ready to bury it and move on. When I started this series, I said that I would share "...without rancor and without venom, stories of my life." Now, I don't believe I have to look at my past through nostalgic, rose-colored glasses. To do so would hold me back in the past rather than growing into the future. I also don't believe in dragging myself or other people through the dirt. To err that way would be to sow bitterness into my life. As someone smart once said, "unforgiveness/bitterness is like holding fire and expecting someone else to get burned." Life is too short for that.

I do think there is some value in taking a plain look at facts, though. Step 4 of the 12 steps is to take a searching and fearless moral inventory of your life. It doesn't say "searching...inventory except for skipping the parts you don't like." Working as an engineer, I have to deal with reality. Sometimes at work, engineers and management can get caught up in an illusion based on incomplete information or optimistic thinking. While us "worker bees" can try to work to that illusion for a while, soon the seams start showing, the illusion cracks, and reality once again rears its ugly head. Dealing with reality is much more tenable.

My old relationship is the same way. I can't dissect it for what I learned if my memory is purposefully flawed or biased. If I don't deal with reality, my lessons and emotional/logical responses will be skewed. And to do so out of some kind of "respect for the dead" would be based on superstitious or avoiding behavior. There are no secrets at a funeral - with my relationship gone, it's time to look on it and speak on it honestly and openly. "As long is it doesn't harm others" also in the spirit of the 12 steps; the relationship may be dead but the people involved are still alive and don't deserve further harm (including me; I don't deserve further harm either.)

This is the spirit I'm writing in - factual but respectful.

"Do what you want to do
Just pretend happy end
Let me know let it show

Ending with letting go
Ending with letting go
Ending with letting go

Let's pretend happy end
Let's pretend happy end
Let's pretend happy end

Let's pretend happy end"
- Garbage, "You Look So Fine"

No, actually, let's not pretend. End with letting go, sure. But let's not pretend. Let's see it as it is, let's call it what it is.

Let's see reality so we can deal with the cards as they've been dealt.

Climb

“Step by step
I've come closer to reaching the top
Every step must be placed so that I don't fall off
Looking down to see about how much higher I am

Oh, pulling myself up by rope, I better my view
Oh, the only thing in sight is what I must do
As I turned, I could see myself falling, falling, falling
Which in return gave me strength for the climb”
- No Doubt, “The Climb”

I understand the theory of rock climbing, but have never attempted the practice. The theory of climbing goes something like this: you climb for a ways, then set an anchor. Then start climbing again. In this way, even if you fall, you can only fall as far as it is to your last anchor plus the amount of rope between it and you. Of course, it takes time to set an anchor, time where you aren't climbing.

In that way and others, church, small group, and Shift have become my anchor point. Once a week, I go to church, ponder the week gone by, count “wins and wishes”, recalibrate to who I am and whose I am, then move on to the next week.

When I started writing this, it had been 4 weeks since my regularly-scheduled Sunday morning of kids ministry, 3 weeks since I'd been to Shift, and 2 weeks since I had been to church at all. (Flatirons closes between Christmas and New Years to allow the staff and volunteers time with their family and friends; a nice gesture.)

Over that time, it was as if I climbed without an anchor. Far and fast, but without a recent anchor and with a long way for a potential fall. God brought me up a great mountain over the last half of 2011, teaching me more than I imagined about life and following Him. Christmas Break unexpectedly became a time to test my wings and practice what I had learned.

I learned some stuff last year. I've learned about being an adult. I've learned that it's OK for someone to show up for me, and that generally that person generally should be me. I should show up for me, otherwise, most likely nobody will.

I had planned to take a couple weeks off of work to relax and reset over the holidays, as well as to accomplish a long list of to-dos. Instead, it was a time of checking progress in my life, a time of seeing where I was on the mountain.

Christmas break was time for being with my family as an adult, expressing my own life instead of being a child again. As I grow with God and become more emotionally and spiritually healthy, I start to see the cracks in those around me and in some cases, how my life situation has made me what I am today.

It was time for meeting new people, being authentic to myself, and pushing past my before-conventional limits. There's been lots of talking with God and walking further and further out on a ledge. I feel like Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade, stepping out over a chasm. Except I'm throwing handfuls and handfuls of gravel to see where the edges of the part are. Time will tell where the other end of my invisible bridge is, but I know that God won't let me fall and has lots for me to learn along the way.

Then it was work. Last year was a rough year at work, with me being pushed father and farther into a corner. By the time I took off , I was really tired of the whole situation. My ugly project canceled over Christmas break, which was bittersweet. At one side, my waking nightmare was over, but also a year of my life appeared to be for naught. After going back, the first day promised to be almost like the last year – stuck with impossible tasks and super high expectations. Previously, Kenton would have sighed, shrugged, and resigned himself to another season of grueling punishment. This time, though, I came out swinging. In the idiom of Shift, the only three options for events in your life are “accept”, “change”, or “eliminate”. Rather than accept, I chose to push back. Only I can show up for me, so I decide to show up in force.

I decided to push back. I started putting words together in my head and went to search out my mentor for advice on how to strongly suggest organizational changes to the program. As soon as I purposed this, I was told that my mentor was looking for me. Turns out, as I was framing my phrasing to ask how to fix “my” program, my mentor was inquiring if I minded working a program I'd been promised months ago (which I wanted), rather than the one I was about to be stuck with. Let me think about that one, “No, no objection”.

It's interesting how when I had purposed to show some assertiveness towards something that “didn't fit”, I saw how God had already prepared a way out.

The night before I went back to work, I visited my old church for a worship night. You know, I think my next batch of inventory/taking ownership/making amends will be regarding my tenure there. I was in a time of being super sarcastic at God and impatiently waiting for His answers. (See above mention of yelling at God.) Sitting in the back, letting the words and music pass over me, and talking to God was exactly what I needed. I didn't get the answers I wanted, but I walked away in a much more contented mood, knowing that God would indeed take care of me and “...do everything He'd ever promised.” (There's that Flatirons phrase again)

Afterwards, I was approached by people who used to know me and repeatedly asked “So, are you back?” or “[aren't you glad] you came back to visit us?”, etc. Honestly, nope. I came because I was invited by friends and it was a place to spend time with God. Previously, I might have just gone along with the leading questions, but this day, that wouldn't have been honest to who I am. Instead, I decided to respond honestly and without embellishment; “Nope, not visiting and not coming back. Just here for a couple hours because my friends invited me. Actually, this is my second-string plans, but it'll work OK.” Apparently my former friends weren't used to that, as they almost physically recoiled at the bluntness of my words. I was pleased with my answers, though, and I wasn't asked any more obnoxiously leading questions.

The weekend promised to be a busy one, with Shift, small group, church, then children's ministry. Of course this had to be the week that our staff worker added a speaking part for the tech workers and felt like she had to send out directions early because she thought it might be difficult. Hey, I serve in A/V to be the quiet introvert at the back of the room, but I guess trusting God also means trusting those He leads me to follow. As another ministry worker put it, “It's your acting debut! Aren't you excited?” Sure, whatever. Being the slightly perfectionist engineer, I felt that I had to go to church an additional time to figure out the directions, adding yet more to my weekend. Along the way, I figured I could project across 100 kids, which I probably can. However, projecting over 100 kids is a different story. Oops. Ah well, the kids didn't know any better and the teacher was pleased so once again, I “won” at something outside of my comfort zone.

At the end of the weekend, how did I feel? Like I had set my new anchor at the apogee of God's growth in me to date. An anchor much higher than my previous one and just as solid. Our icebreaker question for children's ministry that week regarded our New Year's resolutions. Resolutions always seem a bit of a setup for failure – I am who I am, and saying that I'll change doesn't necessarily guarantee that in any way or form. I do have a New Year's goal, though, which summed up all my feelings:

“I knew where I have been and where God has put me now. My goal for the next year is to accept nothing less than God's very best for me. My goal is not to forget who I've become and never go back to who I used to be.”

Climbing? Yes. Anchored in God's love and plan? Yes. Backing down? Never.

“Although many failed, I must now prevail with no questions
Have no time to stop, onward to the top of the mountain
And I, I can't turn back now, it's so very high, I can't turn back now
If I keep it up, I'm gonna make it, I'm so very close, can't you see?

So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
I'm getting closer”
(No Doubt, con't)

Chains

“It's been so long/I can't remember when
I first put on these chains I'm wearing/or how it all began
I used to dream/I would dream of living life so free
But I've been locked down for so so long/these chains are a part of me”

- “Broken Chainz”, Kingsonz

A few weeks ago, I wrote on “the power of words”. By attending Shift, I've become aware of how just being aware of something can change its affect on your life or your reaction to its stimulus in your life. One of the ideas expressed in the Foursquare church I visited was the simple power of the spoken word to break patterns and habits. It makes some sense, but that one guy who talks to himself in the mirror every day seems a little over the top. And James 3 notwithstanding, I'm not always sure that merely saying stuff changes life in a meaningful way.

Several years ago at a Joe White campus outreach, I was given a single chain link. More than five years later, I can't remember the sentiment intended to be anchored to that object, but I've carried it on my keychain since. I think it was something like “giving your will over to Jesus as a slave and following Him singlemindedly” or something. A good sentiment, I suppose. Sometime in the last month or so, manipulation of my keychain swiped the link off into my jacket pocket, evading my notice for a couple weeks.

And I don't want to let them go
They're the only way of life that I really know
I know there's something more but this is comfortable
And even though there's pain, it's predictable
I just don't know what I will do
Without these chains, how will I make it through?

Chains...I've felt locked up in my life for a while. Sometimes past mistakes haunt me, with voices in my head belittling my worth. Sometimes it's my own thoughts casting dismal visions of my future. Whatever it is, it feels like my life is held down by heavy weights sometimes.

I want to be set free & walk out in the Son
I want to take these shackles off my feet so I can run
But I'm so afraid of the unknown that is to come

I have some friends who have been associated with AA. One well-known characteristic of AA is the “sobriety chips” given out for increasing durations of sobriety. Recovering alcoholics often carry their most recent chip with them to remind them of their new way of life and their vulnerability to old temptations. Hold that thought (tangible reminder of spiritual condition) for a moment.

Over the last six months, I've been pointedly and purposefully working through stuff in my life. While I don't have a “duration of sobriety” to give me a metric of progress, the indicators I've been watching in my life definitively show that all the hard work has been worthwhile and effective. As part of my journey, I completed a “Step Study”, which focused on each of the 12 steps, giving room for discussion and methods for implementation. The study was long, starting in late summer and finishing just before Christmas. The last night, as a measure of our progress, our leader had us write down things we no longer wanted and burn them in the parking lot. Fire is great and cathartic and all that. As we kicked ashes of dead things into a snowbank and turned to leave, our leader stopped each of us, dropped something into our hand, then walked on.

Turning the object over in my fingers, I found it to be a bronze circle, with the simple word “Celebrate” on one side and the phrase “Living Life Centered On 12 Steps” on the reverse. It's my very own chip! You know, for such a simple object previously below my awareness, I'm really proud of that silly little thing. It goes with me almost everywhere in my pocket, and occasionally finds its way into my hands when they're bored.

Why do I carry it? Because it reminds me. My chains are gone. All the baggage, the guilt, the expectations, they're not mine to carry. I shed all that stuff. At least, a big part of it. I'm not chained to my past, my old patterns, or my old results. Through prayer and lots of hard work, the heavy stuff is gone. It doesn't weigh me down any more and I can walk as a free man. I am who I am today, and can walk tall and in confidence of that fact.

Some days, I manually index my keyring and miss the chain link. Then the solid metal “clunk” of my Shift chip reminds me that I don't need the chains, I have my actual life. I'm free of my old stuff and can go on to live my life the way it was intended to be, not the way my past tried to lock me into. The old darkness is familiar and well-worn, but just doesn't fit who I am any more.

But some days it feels like it was all a dream,
'Cause I can still hear my chains calling out for me,
And sometimes it feels like I'm wandering,
And I start to long for the dark again,
And I doubt & distrust your promises,
But you're always right there with me,
And when I fall you pick me back up again

I love this song. I think I've listened to it twice a day (on average) since the week before Christmas. It's totally outside my usual musical style, but the words describe my life uncannily well. Check out these men (from my church) and their story:

BROKEN CHAINZ- LIVE AT FLATIRONS COMMUNITY CHURCH
(song starts at 3:50)

Chains vs. Change: Icons of paradigms in my life, past and future

I Blame Her: Dance

(Series Intro)

“The dancing body seems unaware of its surroundings. It seems to be concerned only with itself and one other object-the earth. The earth, the ground, the solid place, the plane on which everyday life plods along, the plane of walking, the prose of human movement.”
- Copeland & Cohen

For the last couple years, my younger sister has invited me to the annual Civil War Ball. It apparently is intended as a “prom” substitute for homeschool kids, which makes it host to all kinds of interesting social phenomena. Being rather well-adjusted for a homeschool kid (being an adult out on my own helps), I tended to ignore the drama and enjoy the dancing. Besides swing, “old-school” dancing is the only style I can understand and/or enjoy.

The first year I went, I had just started dating Mary and hadn't thought to invite her. This led to much consternation from my sister and her friends – I'm pretty sure they thought she was an imaginary character. I atoned for myself the second year, though, offering an invite early to provide plenty of time for her to plan her dress and all that stuff girls are into. I did have somewhat of a situational-awareness advantage, both because I attended the year before and because I was able to attend the precursor introductory dance class. I already had picked out the dances I was interested in (most of them) and the ones I would skip (the hat dance...ugh).

Among the Virginia Reel, the Grand Procession, and all those other dances to which I have forgotten the names, there are a couple waltzes over the course of the night. One follows tradition with the young men asking the young ladies, while the other reverses the trope by being “ladies' choice”. I vaguely remember the first waltz. I think I asked a young lady I had met earlier that day because she was friendly, polite, and a good dancer. I thought I knew how the second would play out, but I only knew part.

As the previous dance ended and the second waltz was announced, I tried to circle unobtrusively around to where Mary could find me, but ended up behind her and out of her vision. As I wondered if she'd actually find me, I was rather gratified to note the enthusiasm she put into locating me. (Hey, I like to be valued too. Don't hate.) Finally she came over and asked if I wanted this dance; an offer to which I quickly acquiesced.

You know that stereotype where couples get lost in each others' eyes? That's one of those things that people make up to over-romanticize their lives, right?

I don't remember much about that dance. Like, only in flashes. I remember the young lady in front of me, the one who said she loved me and whose love I’d done my best to return. I can see her face, her dress, her eyes, but the whole rest of the room? Couldn't tell you a thing about it. I don't remember the music, or even the people around us, except to gently guide the woman who was the light of my life away from hitting anyone.

It was the dance that lasted forever and the dance I wanted to never end.

Although I had (months before) decided in my heart that I would in all likelihood marry this woman, I remember one of the thoughts fleeting through my head being something like “This is the woman I want to marry. Thank you, God, for leading my life to intersect with hers. Following God in keeping this person in my life will be the best decision I ever made.”

Then the music ended, the room faded back into view, and it seemed that life had to somehow fit back into a normal routine. I preferred “lost with 'my' girl in our own world” better... Not having good words in which to fit my feelings, I thanked her for the dance as politeness encouraged, and wandered off into whatever came next in the programme.

Even that night, I knew I should mention to Mary just how highly I valued her. I never did, though – one of the very few regrets of my relationship. To borrow words, “if [I] was looking for [an] opportune moment, that was it.” There were other slightly less opportune moments, but I passed them up too.

Just as I never told her how special that waltz was although I realized it at the time, so in the subsequent months, I've realized that Mary was the cause of other changes in my life. My life has changed in many ways. She's no longer around to get that recognition (and that's OK), but the repercussions still echo through my life.

God, through Flatirons, is finishing the work that my ex-girlfriend started. This is the work of growing me into the man I've been created to be. The work of breaking off all the dirt and scabs that I've accumulated so that I can stretch into all that God has intended for me.