I’ve never been a tattoo guy. I don’t dislike them, they just aren’t my thing. Well, at least they didn’t use to be. That’s where this story begins.
For each of the past several years, I’ve set aside $500 for Erin and James to go on a summer adventure together. It seems a bargain to encourage them to bond as they transition from teenagers into adults.
The rules are simple.
You have $500.
It is only for the two of you, no friends or romances allowed.
Have fun, stay out of trouble, and don’t come home until the money is gone.
They’ve listened to the blues on Beale Street, ridden a zip line at Lake Travis, and undoubtedly done other things that dads don’t get to hear about. They smile when they tell the stories and that is priceless.
This year, I decided to try the same thing with my siblings. I was a bit anxious bringing it up to Kelly and Preston. It had been many years since we hung out together. In some seasons, we barely communicated. We each had our own, busy lives and relied on occasional family gatherings to catch up on family news.
It wasn’t always like that.
I remember when we were young kids. We were tight. When we faced something spooky, whether it was a dark room or a crowd of strangers, we stuck together. We would stand side-by-side while we cautiously moved forward. Whatever was out there, we knew that nothing could separate us.
We were great friends back then – crowded into the back seat on long road trips, sharing hand-me-downs, exploring the woods behind our house, and playing at the park during dad’s softball games. It lasted through our college years.
Somewhere along the line, I compromised our bonds in the name of growing up. When I should have been building on our strength together, I took for granted that they would always be by my side, like they had always been.
I miss the good times we’ve had together, but even more, I miss being close-knit parts of each other’s lives.
Finding the way back isn’t easy. It requires courage to be vulnerable and take the first step in restoring relationships that I have let gather dust. It is hard to admit your shortcomings and face the people who were affected by them.
When I mustered my courage and asked them both if they wanted to get together this year for a few days without anyone else for a Sibling Weekend, they were both as excited as me.
We talked for a little bit about what we should do but nobody had any real ideas. Then Kelly said, “I know. Let’s get tattoos!”
I did not see that coming.
Like I started with, I’m not really a tattoo guy. Preston has great tattoos and so do my kids. Theirs are really cool. I just never understood the point. What picture do I need to see all the time, inked into my skin as a part of me forever?
Now I’ve embraced the idea. I have a permanent reminder that the people in my life are a blessing that shouldn’t be taken for granted. They are valuable to me and the busyness of this life won’t distract me again. Maybe I forgot that one time, but I will remember it now!
In the two days since we kicked off Sibling Weekend, we have hugged and laughed. We even went someplace scary. And we walked in side-by-side, just like the old days.
So this morning, I woke up with a tattoo.
Regrets? No way. Sure it will last forever, but so will my connection to them. This time, I’m holding on tightly. I’ll be by their sides whenever they need me. When we go back to our homes, we carry a physical symbol of our shared heritage and a reminder to prioritize the people we love.
My walk with Jesus has made me value other people more. He is teaching me how to love others the way he does.
I imagine Jesus as God was raising him from the dead. God brought him new clothes to put on, then carefully cleaned the blood from his matted hair, and removed the purple swelling from his eyes. As he moved to wipe his hands over the scars and make them disappear, Jesus stopped him to say, “Wait, Dad. Leave those. Those are the mark of your perfect love. I want to keep them.”
Jesus has reminders, too.
For now, I gotta go. It’s time for breakfast and Sibling Weekend isn’t over yet. I don’t know what today may hold, but I know who I can count on to be at my side, just like always.
Epilogue
Why this tattoo, you may ask? The cross is a symbol of Jesus’ grace, given to me and meant to be shared with others. This particular image of the cross was adopted by St. Patrick, who carried the love of Jesus to people who had previously enslaved him in a beautiful land that was known in ancient times simply as Erin. My tattoo is the third part of a logo Preston designed. He has the Cross of St. James, I have the Cross of St Patrick, and James has the symbol Chi-Rho used by Emperor Constantine. The band underneath is a warrior’s symbol of loyalty. It matches my wedding ring.
For the past three months, I’ve been really tired. This isn’t the kind of tired that you get from staying up late or the stress of having a lot going on. This is the kind of tired that doesn’t go away no matter how much you sleep or how little you do.
I have spent an entire summer struggling to get through my days at work, even though I have a desk job. After work, I just want to go to bed and then sleep 9-10 hours each night. When I have challenged the malaise, it struck back with a vengeance. So I don’t do much.
I’ve tried exercise, diet, supplements, and all kinds of things to snap out of it. I’m a regular visitor at the doctor’s office for blood tests, monitors, imaging scans, questionnaires, and the like. So far, no prognosis. It is like fighting an enemy in the dark, striking into the direction of any sound, but each attack glides silently through empty air.
It’s inconvenient, but I can still function. There is potentially an underlying cause that may be more serious than the evident side effect, so I need to keep pursuing an answer. Whatever. I’ll get by. It’s not the fatigue that bothers me.
This particular condition is a full, frontal assault on who I am, which is a guy who enjoys bouncing from place to place excitedly. I love to build things, fix stuff, and feel the wind in my face. Like Ricky Bobby, I’ve only got one speed.
People who aren’t exposed to ADHD may not understand why this situation is so frustrating. When I sit still, my brain changes channels every few seconds. In order to slow that down, I do something in the background that occupies enough of my attention to allow me to stay focused. That is why I pace during telephone calls, sandpaper a wood project while formulating a plan, or run while God chats with me. Activity allows me to stay on topic.
In this season of fatigue, people tell me to relax. When my body sinks into a chair, my brain runs unchecked. Imagine flipping channels every few seconds for several hours. It is mentally exhausting, and I feel bad for the inadequate attention I give to my family.
Last week, I had moderate energy for an entire day. I threw myself into a project at full speed, ignoring the warnings that I was pushing too far. It wasn’t long before I lost focus and hurt myself. To manage the pain, I went to bed early. Laying there in the dark, I was shaking with anger. I looked up to heaven and challenged God.
“Why won’t you give me my life back?!”
Silence was the only answer that came back.
I have spent a full season in a life that feels like it belongs to someone else. I could learn to live this way, but I don’t want to. I want the old me back.
Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” is an awesome song. In his smooth, baritone voice, he reflects over a life full of good times and bad before climbing to a defiant, energizing celebration of individuality. “I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way.” Man, could Old Blue Eyes do it right (click the link and listen for four minutes; he really was amazing).
Listening to him, I believe that through sheer force of will I could overcome my troubles. I could do it my way.
But in truth, I don’t want to live like that. Although I may rage on a difficult day at the Almighty to give me my life back, that’s not my true desire. I remember when my focus was doing things my way. It was a meaningless pursuit of hollow victories and short-term satisfaction.
Life has been better since I surrendered to Jesus. His overwhelming love has changed me. He gives me an eternal purpose. Now I worship with my whole heart and have felt the rush of his spirit. My focus is on others, not always myself, and that is his way.
He is the author of life and could restore my health with a thought. Maybe he will, or maybe he has better plans for me.
There is no possibility that I would trade that in for a life where I do it my way.
The Apostle Paul said “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength” (Phil 4:12-13)
In this season, I may be tired, but I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. I need to focus on the one who gives me real strength, not just the adrenaline kind.
When it feels like I am fighting in the dark, I need to quit worrying about defending myself from the enemy and focus on following the light.
If I can run, then I will give thanks to him. If I can’t imagine getting out of my chair, then I will give thanks to him. My hope rests in him, not in my energy level. One day at a time, I will wake up and take a deep breath, and worship him. Whatever the day holds, he is in control, and it is going to be a great day.
Ding-ding-ding. The mechanical chirping of our Ring doorbell announced a visitor. I opened the door to find a very nervous young man standing on my porch holding a bottle of 12-year, single malt Scotch. He spoke as soon as the door opened.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Absolutely. Come in.” I told him.
Josh had been dating Erin for just over two years. In a close-knit family, he was a regular appearance at Sunday lunch or Friday’s at Chili’s. However, he never came alone and he certainly didn’t bring top-shelf whiskey.
He settled onto the couch while Kim and I took our places in our recliners. When he launched into his prepared speech, he quickly found that practicing a thing and doing it are two very different experiences.
He told us that he wanted to propose to Erin and that he would like to ask for our blessing. Then he paused.
I said nothing.
Josh then continued by giving us an overview of their time together. He told us that he loved her very much and that she made him happier than he had ever been before. He went into detail about why he believed the timing was right for this next step and how he had spent the last seasons preparing himself.
He made a good case, but I still didn’t say anything. When Kim later asked why I kept making him squirm, I told her that it wasn’t my job to make this easy for him.
I wasn’t trying to be mean, but he had come to ask my permission to take my place as the most important man in my daughter’s life. I have always been there for her and would do anything for my little girl. If he hoped for me to surrender that privilege to him, he would need to bring his very best, and I would not interrupt him.
At this point, he seemed to be at the end of his prepared statement and went off-script. When he did, the real emotion came out. You could see on his face and hear in his voice that he would do anything for this love of his life. He wanted desperately to make her happy and share forever with her.
Then he was finished.
It was my turn. “If you want my blessing, you need to make three promises to me. First, will you love God and love her all of your life.”
In words long and short, he said that he would.
“Second, will you protect and defend her at any cost to yourself?”
He assured Kim and I that he would.
“Third, will you provide for her and your family together, ensuring your basic needs are met, regardless of the difficulty?”
Again, he said that he would and I told him that he had my blessing. Kim agreed.
As the color returned to his face, he told us about his plan to propose to her on the beach in a couple of weeks and reviewed all of the details he had laid out. It was a good plan and we told him so.
We sealed the agreement with a toast and he went on his way, breathing much easier than when he had arrived.
From the pictures, you can tell that his plan was a great success. Our family is growing again, and he is a welcome addition. He will be the perfect husband for her.
As for me, I am suddenly staring at two engaged children. It’s all happened fast, and I may need another drink to settle down. It was a good gift choice from my new son.
Josh fulfilled his obligation to us by asking for our blessing and I promised it to him. After several days I realized that I hadn’t actually given it to him. I only told him that he had it. I believe in the power of the spoken word of a man of faith. I believe that the very spirit of God speaks through us and that his word is eternal.
Without any further hesitation, Josh, here is my blessing to you.
Josh and Erin, I pray for God’s favor to rest on your union as he grants you long lives that are full of peace and joy, and that he multiplies you greatly.
For days beyond measure, you will find your lovestruck reflections in each other’s eyes.
As the challenges of this life inevitably find you, your response will demonstrate to the world the depth of your love. Your marriage will strengthen your community as the Father’s blessings flow through you and into others’ lives as easily as water flows down a lazy river.
I am excited for the young couple, but the life change is looming large over me. I have to let go of my role as first responder and build up another man to take that role. May God guide me through that transition.
As a senior in high school who was shopping for colleges, I never considered sending an application to the local university in Chattanooga. I wanted to get out of town.
I didn’t think of it as running away so much as trying to figure out who I wanted to become. I needed to clear my head of everything that I had been told and decide what I believed in. To find my destiny, I needed to be free.
In my mind, I was already gone.
For the next twenty years, I moved from place to place chasing the next big thing. At first I was alone, then with Kim, and finally with kids and all. We never really rooted anywhere – not South Carolina, Tennessee, Illinois, Tennessee again, Virginia, or Missouri. Moving somewhere new is easy when you aren’t connected to anything.
Our journey ultimately led to Texas and God parked us here. After moving into our house and settling into a new routine, a feeling of contentment began to spread through us. The kids were happy. We met our neighbors and made friends. We joined a church that was full of life and joy.
After decades spent wandering, I had found something more valuable than the American Dream that I had pursued across the country.
I found my hometown.
The world may be full of special places, but none of them compare with my hometown. It’s not because of convenient restaurants and shops, good schools, or strong property values. It’s certainly not the hot, Texas weather or rows of similar homes on small lots.
This is my hometown because I love the people here.
My new sense of direction is based on the people in my life. Next week, I’m supposed to help a lady whose house is back behind where the Schultes used to live. Michael’s son moved into a home near Bob’s place. I need to pick something up at the Home Depot by where Erin works.
Everybody knows that we eat at Chili’s every Friday night. Their food tastes pretty much the same as each of the other 1,600 locations, but this is the only one where we can sit in William’s section to hear how his art classes are going and about his plans to teach elementary school one day.
We shop for groceries at the Neighborhood WalMart. If we only need a few things, I use the self-checkout and hope for problems. I know that Mayo will see our flashing light and hurry over with a giant smile to say “Hi, James’s dad. How are you today?”
On our big, weekly shopping trip, we pick the lane where we recognize the cashier. It doesn’t matter if their line is longer than the others. I like to tell them they’re worth the wait.
When senior citizens call the city to ask for help with yard work, Shelly takes their calls and then emails me. She can depend on a “yes” answer and a good job. I’ve got a lot of friends who love to help their neighbors.
This is the only place I would cry for a homeless friend who passed away on a cold, winter night (click here to read that post). This is where I smile every time I see a family enjoying a picnic on a table that I helped some kids to build.
I get to worship Jesus in a church filled with my best friends. I remember the conflicts we’ve had in the past and how they proved their love for me was bigger than our differences would ever be.
Erin just moved across town into Oak Tree Apartments. It’s the same apartment complex that Kim’s parents lived in. When she turned in her application, the person at the desk asked how Kim was doing. This is a special place to Erin.
She hung out with her grandparents there, but she also spent time with kids in the after-school ministry that Kim led. She served those same kids lunches sponsored by Kids Eat Free during summer vacations.
In the grassy patch behind her apartment, she watched the excited faces of toddlers who found Easter eggs she had carefully hidden in plain view. In that same spot, she worked carnivals that marked the last day of Vacation Bible School. Across the parking lot, she joined with a middle-school small group searching for Jesus in the Bible.
Erin loves plants and her new place is filled with beautiful ones with all kinds of names I can’t remember. She transplants them, waters them, and moves them around to keep them growing. It is the same love she has showered over that place for ten years, nurturing young souls to grow well. One day, those people will become strong leaders in their neighborhoods and families because she equipped them well.
Maybe Erin will decide this is her hometown, too. That is her choice to make, but I hope so. Her roots here are strong and she is a community treasure.
James is at home between semesters and we know that each summer may be the last time he lives with us. He will have the same choice to make one day. Will his boyhood hometown become the place he returns to defend and protect?
Like his sister, he has planted good seed throughout this community. It is a better city because of him, too. When his time comes, he will have to decide.
As for me and Kim, we know where home is. God smiles on us in this place. We have traded the American Dream in favor of a community. We know we’ve made the right decision.
Some mornings I wake up to a day that seems to have a shadow cast over it. They are nothing and nobody days. Nothing seems to make me happy and nobody seems to do things the right way.
The cause may be that I am feeling bad, the world is wearing on me, or spiritual forces are attacking me. Whatever the cause, the outcome is the same. People just seem to get on my nerves. All kinds of people for all kinds of reasons. They are rocks in my path.
I am quick to judge that my frustrations are their fault. My ground rule is simple in deciding what is “fair” or “reasonable”. I even have a name for it.
WWID – What Would I Do. If I were them, what would I have done? Expect the same thing from others as you expect from yourself. One standard that applies to everyone equally.
If you cut into line, you shouldn’t have. WWID? Wait your turn.
If you no-show a commitment, that is wrong. WWID? Do what you say you will do.
If you robo-call me, that is annoying and even illegal. WWID? Be respectful and follow the law.
Judging is very efficient when I hold people accountable to what I think of myself, but it doesn’t seem to bring me joy. It is also unfair.
I am judging other people based on an opinion of my own capabilities, circumstances, values, and preferences. In reality, nobody shares all of these things with me. God made me as a unique creature with unique capabilities and placed me into a unique environment. How could someone else be me?
In order to climb up this emotional ladder, I need to remember how I descended in the first place.
On my happy days, I follow the Golden Rulethat Jesus gave us in Matthew 7:12.
Focusing on what Jesus has already done for me gives me the strength to do things for others. When I take my eyes off him and focus on the tasks, the Golden Rule becomes exhausting. I get tired of running around trying to do so much and just like Peter started to sink when he took his eyes of Jesus, I slide down my own ladder.
When I get tired of working too hard, I step down a few rungs to the Even Steven Rule.
The workload is much lighter here. I get to ignore all the people who don’t appreciate me and focus my efforts on people who return the favor.
This fails when people have their own problems. Eventually, they become too needy or offend me. When that happens, I slide down further and the WWID Rule goes into effect.
The word “do” is totally removed from the WWID Rule. Instead of doing anything, I just sit back and expect better. On these days, I have totally forgotten everything I have received and look past the constant blessing in my life. I stop receiving from Jesus and start expecting from others. That is when the list of people who frustrate me starts to grow.
If you have WWID days like me, the good news is that Jesus is more than enough. Whatever we expect of him, he continues to exceed. When we reach for him, we begin to climb back up the ladder.
As we climb back past the Even Steven level, we see that he has done more for us than we can do for him. The closer we look, the more blessings we see that are piled up. Golden Rule days are easy when you focus on receiving and releasing blessings that overwhelm your ability to hold them all.
The Golden Rule was based on the law of the Old Testament. The New Testament version of the Golden Rule isn’t a rule at all. It is a Life of Grace and it is the highest rung on the ladder.
Grace doesn’t require us to “do” or “give” anything. It doesn’t turn on or off based on our response. Grace gives us the chance to share with other people who Jesus loves just as much as he loves us.
In this world, I expect that WWID days will happen. When they do, the important thing is for me to quit expecting to receive more from others and start focusing on what to do with the overflow I already have.
The rules are simple.
I remember when we were young kids. We were tight. When we faced something spooky, whether it was a dark room or a crowd of strangers, we stuck together. We would stand side-by-side while we cautiously moved forward. Whatever was out there, we knew that nothing could separate us.
Now I’ve embraced the idea. I have a permanent reminder that the people in my life are a blessing that shouldn’t be taken for granted. They are valuable to me and the busyness of this life won’t distract me again. Maybe I forgot that one time, but I will remember it now!
Why this tattoo, you may ask? 
