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Don’t Be Anxious! Yeah, Right!

As soon as he walked through the door, he knew that something was not right. The house was quiet, too quiet. He called out her name as he looked around and moved through the house. No answer. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he listened for a moment, before continuing up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom. Opening the door slowly, he heard the sound of quick short breaths mixed with whimpers. It was the sound of someone hyperventilating. As he walked through the door, he saw on the bed, in a fetal position, his beautiful bride. Her hands clenched over her face, crying uncontrollably. His heart dropped, and he thought, “This is a serious one.” He felt so unequipped to handle this. He went to her asking, “What’s wrong?” She leaned into him, rocking her body back and forth, shaking her head. She sucked in a big breath. Through a quivering exhale, she whispered, “I, I, I, don’t know.”  He asked, “Are you okay?” She shook her head no. He could tell she was trying to get herself under control, but something was paralyzing her, locking her in what seemed to be a state of fear. As he wrapped his arm around her, he lovingly whispered to her, “You’re safe, you’re okay. Slow down your breathing. Breath with me.” He loudly drew slow, long breaths, trying to get her to match his breathing. He silently prayed, “God, please help her. Give her peace, give her your mercy. Cover her with your love.” After what seemed like hours, she slowly calmed down and fell asleep from exhaustion, in his arms. He watched as her body slowly relaxed and released whatever it was that had captured her.

This was not the first time this happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Each time seemed to get worse. Each time it seemed like it started with a small thought that just got stuck. Most times it was a “what if” or an “I wonder” thought that was a little negative. Like, “I wonder if they like me? I seem invisible to everyone, no one really cares about me.” Most times, they were lies whispered to herself that grew into screams. All he knew was that they needed some help. Who could he trust though?

This is what it’s like for someone who has a loved one who suffers from anxiety and depression. This is a mild example of a panic attack. The unfortunate part is that, even in a mild attack, the stakes are life and death. For some with no intervention, they can’t take the overwhelming darkness that covers them, and it seems the only way out is death.

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Unfortunately, those who battle this are often tormented when they try to make a heroic comeback because they are only met with opposition. I know that seems ridiculous, but it’s true. Because of the darkness that has been shadowing them, the light is so very hard to see. So, they start with questions like, “Who really likes me, or let alone the big question, is there anyone out there who loves me?” Each step on the road to recovery is difficult; it’s often like having a noose around your neck, constantly pulling you back. They fearfully think, “If I stop even for a moment, I will be pulled backwards and drug back down into the pit.” The thoughts race in their head.

It’s almost like they are stuck in a puddle of quicksand. One false move, and they will be sucked down, but if they don’t reach out for a saving branch, they certainly will die. So, isolation comes into play, keeping everyone at a distance is of utmost importance. This insures that no one can get close enough to hurt them– or love them. The loneliness is better in their eyes than sharing that they need something or someone. Besides, there is the fear that others will think bad of them or think they are crazy. When anxiety covers you like this, you need to seek out professional help, a physiatrist and a counselor is a good start.

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I am not a counselor or any authority on this in the sense of an educational degree. All I have is life experience, and this is what I have come to know and understand through loving someone who faces these issues each day of her life. I’m writing this to give you a glimpse of what it’s like for someone who faces these challenges, as well as how and why we need to help.

Part of the reason for the isolation is that when others find out that you have anxiety or depression some think oh, just get some drugs and move on, or get some counseling.

I have heard people say that it’s not like they have a broken bone or a chronic disease or something, that could actually kill them. The thing is, that’s not true. Anxiety and depression can kill, and they have. It is just like a physical disease or an internal injury. You really can’t see the disease itself, but you can see the symptoms of it.

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Most times when this disease first comes out or when we first notice it, we can easily mistake it as the person being moody or aloof, or even stuck-up. They may even seem shy. All of these things are attributes that could be part of a normal person’s life. So, how do you know?

You need to take time establish a relationship, if you really want to care and try to make a difference for them.

My bet is that you may know someone who is very close to the person, like a partner, spouse, or best friend. Ask them if the person in question is okay or do they need anything? Do this authentically with genuine concern, and they may let you know the truth…if they feel they can trust you, and you won’t hurt them.

Those closest to these people tend to guard them and try to protect them as much as possible. They know that it doesn’t take much to drive them deep into the darkness, even when they are in recovery.

Taking some meds and talking to a counselor may be a great start but unfortunately, it’s not so easy to fix this.

If the anxiety has been severe enough for long enough, they may need to have their self-esteem re-built; they will need to be loved both closely and from a distance at times. They will need help finding out that they are of worth and have purpose. They will need to be shown that their life counts, and that they can make a difference in this world. This takes people who care deeply about the individual.

Yes, some of the drugs and genetic tests we have today can assist, but nothing replaces human relationships. Boy, can they be hard.

As I have stated, being a friend or a partner of someone who suffers with this can be challenging, but let me also say this, it can be very fun and rewarding. In my experience, these people love deeply, they are both passionate and compassionate. They also can be a blast to be around when they are in a safe place or having a good day. Please understand they are not special projects, don’t try to treat them like that because they will see right through you. These people need people in their lives who are not going to try to fix them and then walk on to the next project. They need friends who are in this walk for life, and that is often rare and hard to find.

So, beware, they may try to reject you before you even scratch the surface. This is their litmus paper test to see if you are really serious. Yes, it may seem harsh at first, but you just have to remember they are in a survival mode most of the time.

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These hurting people are no different than anyone else; they have dreams and goals. They have amazing talents and gifts waiting to be uncovered. If given the opportunities and outlets to use those gifts and talents, they will rise to the challenge, and even blow away your expectations.

For this to happen though, it requires that they trust the provider of these opportunities. You don’t have to have a deep relationship, though a close relationship may inadvertently develop because you prove you can be trusted. But, you always have to remember that there is the risk that they may have a bad day or a relapse. And there is always the possibility that because you are associated with this person, well, you yourself may look bad.

All I can say to that is, who cares?

This is when the real question needs to be asked, what is at stake here? To be blunt, it is life or death. That’s not fair, some may say. But t’s true that the one opportunity that you offer may just be a lifeline. It may be the one thing that keeps them from totally giving into the darkness.

Honestly, people who face life with this illness believe they don’t even have a chance because others think they are crazy, or they are just too unworthy of having a chance to share themselves with the world. I believe that those who don’t open a door for these people are the crazy ones. What is a life worth?

So, what can you do? That is the question that should be asked.

First you should know that having anxiety is difficult, and there are times that they can’t communicate effectively to others exactly what they are feeling or going through. So, sometimes, they just need someone to be there for them without judgement. No words– just your presence and the knowledge that you accept them, just the way they are, where they are. Then sometimes it maybe the opposite– just a few words of encouragement and lots of space with open, accepting arms. The key is always to meet them where they’re at and love them the way they need loved in that moment.

Yes, this can be hard, and sometimes you can be hurt (which can be very hard), but it’s never in my experience intentional. Lashing out is sometimes the only way they can get the feelings out that have been trapped and captivating their thoughts.  Sometimes you need to just put your feeling on the back burner to help someone out of a difficult situation. If you’re a Christian, we have a great example of how to sacrifice for someone you care about or even for people you don’t know.

I can’t help but think about all the times Jesus loved people where they were, and because of His love, compassion, and sacrifice their lives and our lives have been changed. The adulteress, the woman at the well, Zacchaeus the Tax Collector, and the list goes on.

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Jesus met people where they were, and he loved them up to where they needed to be. He never worried about what others thought, only what His Father in Heaven was thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t always easy.

I’ve heard it said, “We’re reaching out, but they need to reach out too.” When you’re paralyzed with fear, you can’t push yourself up to grasp an outstretched hand.

There was the time that four friends carried their friend to Jesus. When they were faced with opposition of not being able to get directly to the Lord, they tore the roof off a house and lowered their friend down to place their friend at the feet of Jesus for healing. They didn’t meet him half-way– he was paralyzed! They carried him to Jesus. Sometimes we need to carry our friend to the feet of Jesus.

There are also the times when we need to get dirty and do more than reach out.

We need to get some spit and dirt on us. I recall Jesus spitting into the dirt and rubbing it onto the blind man’s eyes, so he could see again. Jesus did more than reach out; He got dirty. He didn’t dismissively say to those who came to Him, “Oh, I‘ll pray for you.” He took time and ministered to them.

This is part of being more like Jesus. Honestly, I have watched people who suffer actually minister to others hurting in amazing ways that no one else could. It’s because they know what it’s like to hurt or be an outcast, and they can empathize with them.

This can apply to so many things in life I know, but who has God placed in your path to help carry to Jesus or get dirty with in the process of healing? Who are you crying with? Who are you loving and encouraging, near or far?

Has God placed someone in your path that you just stepped over or worse kicked them to the side, because you have been too busy going where you want to go rather than looking where God is leading you? The Bible says that God directs the steps of man. So, look where you’re going. We ask for God to use us, but we miss the opportunities that are right in front of us all the time.

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I have also heard that this is a person’s spiritual issue, and you are accurate. But it’s not just their spiritual issue, it’s yours too.

We are to love one another and encourage one another; sometimes people go to these dark places because we didn’t love like we should have. I know that statement will not be popular, but it’s true. If we took the time to genuinely care, some people may not feel so invisible.

People with mental health issues sometimes need more of the people who claim to have the Light surrounding them. Darkness is the absence of light. How do we make the darkness go away? By bringing in the light. The Bible says we are the light of the world. The light we have comes from the Holy Spirit. If we obey Him, we will be sharing his light with others. He will be working through us. So yes, it is a spiritual issue– ours and theirs. It’s not just their issue, it’s ours too. We need to do something about it.

How can we help? Love them unconditionally the way God loves you. Take a moment to smile and see them, don’t let them be invisible. Be genuine and compassionate.

Provide opportunities for them to come into your light. This takes time, you have to be in this for the long haul. This is not about you; it’s about loving someone else the way we should love one another.

I hope this is an encouraging post that helps some to have hope and to others, perhaps this will challenge them to see who God has placed in their path.

If you suffer from anxiety or depression or any other non-visible illness, please know you are loved and cared about. I know this is not easy, but with the right environment and people surrounding you, things can get better. We shouldn’t have to walk this road alone.

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Bart and the Big Blue Truck

I was skimming my posts to make sure I don’t repost something. As I did, I was reminded of all the car stories and close calls we’ve had; I wonder how I’ve actually made it this far. LOL!

My thoughts turned to this. God is with us in the big moments when life hangs in the balance, but He is in everyday things too. He is in the things we might pass over and just say quickly, “Boy, I got lucky there!” and then we continue through our day as if nothing miraculous had happened. I’ve heard it said that hindsight is 20/20. Sometimes we see things better after they happen. I have found that I can best recognize God in my life when I take a moment and look back at my day or week—then I can spot where He has shown up in my life.

Take this, for example. I have recently told this story to multiple people, and at the time it happened, I didn’t think it was a huge God moment in my life, but it was actually pretty incredible.

See, we were living in northern Pennsylvania, and this area can get years with a lot of snow (like they did this year). On one cold winter morning, I had dropped Chrissy, Ben, and Tori off at our friends Bart and Yvonne’s house. They lived on top of a hill with a long winding gravel driveway. The driveway was icy and had snowbanks on both sides higher than the hood of my Dodge Shadow. The only place to go was up or down. Turning left or right was not an option. You get the picture. I dropped the fam and went on my way to do something somewhere else.

Through the morning, it flurried and gave us a little more snow, nothing big. I remember that it was almost lunchtime, and I needed to pick up Chrissy and the kids. So, I headed back to my friend’s house. I carefully and slowly went up the drive. I made it about halfway up when, to my surprise, I saw a cloud of snow coming down the hill. At the time, my buddy Bart’s vehicle was a big blue Ford F-250 truck with a very high lift kit. You almost needed a step stool to get in this thing.

Yep, you guessed it. Within the cloud of snow, was that truck headed right towards me. I panicked a bit when I realized there was no place for me to go. I shifted into reverse only to have my tires spin on the ice and snow. I thought, “Get out of the car!” But I couldn’t open my door because of the snowbanks on either side. All I could do is watch and pray that Bart could slow down and stop his monster truck before it crushed me and my Shadow.

I braced for impact. Bart wasn’t going fast, he tried to stop, but the truck started sliding down the hill.

I looked at my horrific future head-on. I remember praying, “Oh God, please help! Stop this truck, and please protect me!” I clenched my eyes shut. I felt a big bump and heard a crunching noise. Then I opened my eyes to see a huge truck parked on the hood of my car.

I cranked down my window and stuck my head out, looking up, and Bart greeted me. (This is what I call a classic Bart greeting). “How ya do’in?” He had a big grin on his face. I replied, “I’m good, but your truck is on my car.” He said, “Yeah, about that… I just couldn’t get it to stop. Let me back it up, and we’ll see if we can get up to the house.”

He backed off my car; the hood looked like a giant sat on it, but it was still running! We slowly made our way up to the house. Our wives greeted us outside the house; they said they heard a big bang and were coming out to see what it was.

We all laughed as Bart and I retold the story from each of our points of view. We were so glad that everything turned out as good as it did.

There is more to this story than me being spared. We were able to get a new 4-wheel drive car that was more reliable for our family because of this mishap. This turned out to be a huge blessing for us because, in a few months, we were about to move nine hours from home to follow our call into ministry.

On this day, God was with me. “Emmanuel” was also providing for us in the steps we were taking in being obedient to His call. This fun story reminds me of how much God cares for me and looks out for me in the present and the future.

Isaiah 41:10 NIV

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

How has God looked out for you in everyday things?

Our Friends Bart and Yvonne

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Jonah

With each child came new challenges and adventure. With the birth of my second to youngest Jonah, we had a life changing challenge. For the first time in our family’s life, we were completely living on our own. We moved 9 hours away from what was called home for all of our lives to follow a “call to ministry.” Chrissy and I packed all of our worldly belongings from our humble single wide trailer, our two kids, Ben (3) and Tori (2), and our Dalmatian puppy, into a small U-hall truck. We were leaving hurt and disappointed family members behind to become a youth pastor; this is what I thought God was telling me to do. We had no idea what we were in for. We were headed into a tiny, highly conservative Christian college that was drastically different from our church experience, but we had no clue. Did I mention that Chrissy was around 5 months pregnant with baby number 3. Within weeks of arriving, we figured out that things were very different than what we had been sold on. We were told that we would have many opportunities to jump into ministry, so I could support my family. That didn’t happen. We were told there would be a supportive community. What was left out was the fact that support only came if you were like everyone else there. We were not.

I was asked to start a coffeehouse night, which I did with hopes to break into the community only to be hated for it. We even got hate mail for starting it from a group of other students. This was not what we expected. Even so, we were determined to follow the call so we tried to make the best of it.

We were given 2 weeks to find our puppy a new home. We gave her to another student who lived off campus, just to keep while we were in school. She somehow got hit by a car and broke a leg. We paid for her to get it set and cast by a vet. We were told she would be fine. We dropped her back at the student’s house to be cared for. Two weeks later he called to bluntly tell me my dog was dead, and he buried her in the back yard. Obviously, he had not taken a class in pastoral care or one on how to help families with grief or loss.

This was a challenging time for our family, and I’ve written about this time before. This was the time we saved happy meal toys to give our kids for Christmas because I had no job. That post is called Happy Meal Christmas. Soon after Christmas, we were to give birth to our baby. The doctor told us he wanted to induce the birth because Chrissy had a history of big babies (and his vacation was the next week).  So, January 6th was the day. My parents made the trip down to watch the kid while Chrissy had the baby. This was one bright spot for us.

We arrived in the afternoon at the hospital and got ourselves ready for delivery. They prepped Chrissy and started the process. We went through the night and into the next day with little movement. Later in the afternoon, the staff convinced us that a pain killer would be a good choice. It would relax Chrissy and hopefully help the baby come. That is exactly what it did, but no one anticipated how quickly it would work.

Jonah arrived with all the right parts, but he had an issue with breathing. They kept saying, “He’s grunting, but it will be okay.” His little lungs were working so hard to get oxygen in. They told us that they needed to take him for some tests because of his breathing. They said you can carry him to the nursery, and we’ll take it from there. I remember holding this little swaddled baby who was clearly struggling to breathe. I was pretty concerned and felt helpless as I handed my son over to the nurses.

After getting Chrissy cleaned up and in a new recovery room, they came in to give us a report. They told us that they had to do emergency surgery on his lungs. X-rays told them that his one lung had collapsed from trying so hard to breathe. The pain killer that they had given Chrissy didn’t have time to make out of his system, which impaired his breathing.

So, we signed the papers and they put a tube in the right side that helped with his breathing. They brought him to us and told us that they hoped this would be okay, but they couldn’t promise anything. I was told to go home and get some rest, so I took my mom who was there for the birth, and went home.

When I got home, Chrissy called and said that they needed to talk to us again so I hopped back in my car and drove the 45 minutes back to the hospital. This is when they told us that the other lung had a shadow on it and looked as though it was going to collapse. They said they couldn’t do anything at this point. All we could do is pray, and that is what we did.

The next day, my parents left to go back home. I somehow lined up sitters for my 2 other kids, so I could go be with my wife and new son. The x-rays still showed this shadow and the other lung was not healing as fast as they had hoped it would. So, we continued to pray. We had people all over the United States praying for our Jonah– people we had no relationship with at all.

Remember this was 1997, there was no internet, no cell phones like we know now. That in itself was pretty incredible. On the second night, I was traveling home to see Ben and Tori and take care of them for the night. I was exhausted and out of options. So, I did all that I knew to and that was make a plea to God. I remember driving and making my plea through tears in hopes that God would answer. I came to the point of telling God that if He saved my little boy that I would go wherever He wanted me to go, and I would do whatever He wanted me to do for the rest of my life. I also promised to raise him so that he would know the love and grace of God. Then I remember saying the hardest thing ever. I said if you take him God, I will still love and serve you, because if you take him there has to be reason that I don’t understand, and I’m okay with that. I cried so hard after that.

When I got home I remember walking into the house. My other babies were asleep already, and I remember thanking God for blessing me with them. I went out into the living room and saw this sign that we found in the house when we moved in. “The will of God will never lead you where it cannot keep you.”

The next morning, day 3, I arrived at the hospital. Chrissy was going to be discharged this day, and Jonah was having x-rays done. When they brought him back, they said the doctor will be in soon. When he came in he told us that he didn’t understand or know how this happened, but the spot on the left lung had disappeared, and the right lung was almost completely healed. They would be removing the tube later in the day, and he felt that Jonah would be fine. We could hardly believe our ears. Our baby was going to be okay. We thanked God for this miracle that we had received. We still would have to keep him in the hospital for observation for another day.

While he was in the hospital Chrissy and I took shifts with staying with him. He developed a case of jaundice and had to be treated under special lights. This meant his circumcision would need to be put off too. We always joke about this because once he was free of jaundice, he was circumcised on the eight day, just the same as those in Biblical times were.

Jonah got his name, because it was years that I had ran from the call of God, just like the prophet Jonah in the Bible. I always thought looking back that it was interesting that it took Jonah’s lungs 3 days to be restored. Just like the prophet Jonah sat in the belly of the fish for 3 days. I have no idea what the meaning of this could be.  If there is one, it might be that it’s an opportunity to tell the story of repentance and redemption.  Looking back, we were all alone in this, no family, not much of a support system, just God. We could have relied on ourselves and the doctors, but we chose to put our faith in God and Him alone. When things get hard don’t hesitate to put your faith in God. Whatever happens, there is a reason, and it will bring others to God with your help or without it.

Emmanuel!

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Connected

No this is not the first of my blog challenge post. Hang in there it’s coming, I promise! This is just a pre-blog thought I had and wanted to share it.

I often find myself looking around noticing that God does amazing things.

Sometimes, I scratch my head, and I wonder if it’s possible that some of the things happing around us could be connected? When I ask God to show me what’s going on, He reveals the answer in a way that seems so magical but obvious. He shows me the connection. Some may say this is a coincidence, but if I’m being honest, these coincidences happen way too often for me to not believe there’s something bigger going on.

All this to say, perhaps God is pulling something together, and just maybe it has something to do with us. God wants us to understand that He is with us, and I think we need consistent reminders that God has been with us, is with us and will continue to be with us.

God was with us as a human named Jesus. He lived here on this earth, and guess what? He is still is with us now as believers in Christ through the Holy Spirit.  Friends, it doesn’t stop there. God will be with us to the end of the age and beyond. (Matthew 28:20)

This is what I’m thinking, as I share my experiences about Emmanuel (God with us), I’ll also share the rabbit trails that arise during the week that connect to the post. I believe that most times these extra connections are confirmations of what I’m asking God about. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about.

Today, I was reading a friend’s blog (click here, to check it out!), and there it was! Close to the end of her post were these words, “God is with us.” And it’s more than just the words that make a connection to my blog challenge. The post itself seemed to be a direct encouragement to move forward with this challenge I have for myself this year.

Here is what I’m proposing; I would love for you to join me as I step forward into writing again. I would also love to hear any experiences you see in your life that connect to any of my blog posts. In addition, I’d love to hear about the things God’s doing in your life. I want to hear how God is connecting things for you, or how He’s encouraging you to take a step in your walk with Him. So, please don’t be a silent reader! Speak out—you just might be a connection that someone else needs to see where God wants them.

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Remembering Emanuel, My 2021 Blog Challenge

Some days I find myself thinking back to when I was younger and just getting started as being a husband and a father, and I wonder how in the world did my kids make it to adulthood? I remember making what seems like so many mistakes. Then again, standing on this side of the parenting road, looking ahead seems overwhelming to me. A close friend says he’s been told it’s much harder to parent adult children then when they were younger and you could force choices for them. I think this has some truth to it.

So… I’m going to take this year, 2021, and try to record the moments that I have been weak or have felt like the rug has been ripped out from under me, only to look back at the situation and see that it was faith in my God who snatched me up in midair and held me until I could stand again.

I’m calling this year’s challenge “Emmanuel.” This means God with us.

My hope is that those who may read this can realize that God is with us always, in the good and in the bad times. I hope to spur you on toward increasing faith in God. And that they may not repeat the mistakes I have made. We all go through challenges in life that we can’t control, but we can control how we respond in those times.

“Challenges are what make life interesting and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.”
― Joshua J. Marine

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Senior Year Reflection

Some days I wish I had a telepathic thought converter that would take the thoughts that I have and transfer them to a document. It would definitely make writing my blogs so much easier. It seems like I have all these thoughts and experiences that fly through my mind’s eye in a day, and I don’t want to forget any of the details of what I think or remember.

As I move through the seasons of the year, it triggers these memories of the life I have lived and the emotions that flood my being are something too much to communicate or even try to express in any way, so most time they are just held in. Until the right moment presents itself to release them. For me, that is most times when I’m alone, or with my amazing wife, Chrissy.  I think perhaps I do this because it’s a safe environment for me to be me.

One thing I am discovering is that the more I do write, the more I’m letting some of the inner me out. The hard part is that even those who know me are perhaps are seeing a different side to me that most may have never known or seen. This is actually a bit intimidating and at the same time, freeing.

So, what’s with all the self-reflection and such? Over the last few months, Chrissy and I have been through some difficult times…the kind of things that cause everyone who goes through them to question everything, and that is okay. It’s actually has made us think and talk about things that we normally don’t discuss, and that has been good. In the mist of all this, life just keeps going on. It hits me now that we have plans that we have made and committed to rapidly approaching.

For example, a trip we have planned with our entire family is coming up soon. This may not seem to be a big deal, but somehow, we have grown our family to a total of 12 people and I’m sure there will be future additions to that number. Still, that’s a lot of people, especially to go on a trip with! This trip is one of those special trips that Chrissy and I really wanted to have happen. See, this year we have a high school senior in our home. Now, yes, we have had this before- 3 times before to be exact.

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The first child graduating was difficult and thinking about all that goes with your first born moving on to the next phase of their lives with all the unknown things and hopes and dreams you have for them and that they have for themselves. Then they move out, get married and all of a sudden, you’re a grandparent. Whew, looking back that was pretty quick, and before we knew it, we had 2 more graduates, another grandbaby, and another wedding, followed by 2 more grandkids. Talk about a blur. That brings me to the moment of reflection over the final of the four. The baby of the family.

Then it starts to creep in. This will be that last time you will be doing this senior thing. Not only that, but what you have done for the last 27 years is going to change a bit, because all the kids are soon going to be out on their own. Oh, sure they may linger in the nest for a bit longer, and that is all cool. No rush on our part.

What I think is the hardest part is remembering what you have done or not done and not being able to change that at all. If you stay in that place too long, you can start to second guess all you have done and whether or not it was the best for them.

A friend has a jar of marbles on his desk representing the number of weekends he has left before his first-born graduates. This was pretty cool to watch his countdown, but unconsciously I was having my own countdown without the marbles. I lost all mine after kid 2 or 3. (I feel a bit like the Lost Boy “Tootles” from Peter Pan, he lost his marbles too.) I believe that I almost have not wanted to think about this season of life coming, but here it is.

I want to say that I am so very proud of all my kids, what they are doing, and who they are becoming. I’m so impressed with the people they have become and are going to be. People full of God’s love and kindness, people who have courage as well as integrity. One of the best things has been to see how they take care of each other and hold each other accountable to the level of what it really means to be a “Hunter.”

For you Si-guy, my daredevil, the world’s most okay-est barista. I can only start to say how proud I am of you and all that you have accomplished. I am very excited to see where you go and what you do in the coming years. As I have always told you kids, whatever you want to do you can accomplish, just be sure to lay your plans out before the Lord and let Him have the final say on your endeavors. Follow him and walk in His ways. Always keep Him the most important thing in your life.

Stay humble and teachable. Be observant, always seeing what others do and don’t do. This will help you make wise choices. Be bold and passionate about what you believe in, especially when others try to steal your joy and passion about what you believe to be right. Let their words and intentions build you up in a positive way, not letting them destroy or devour you. Those who try to bully or humiliate you are only trying to bring you down to their level because they have a desire be like you in some way, but since they are struggling to make it where to where you are, they try to pull you down to where they are. Be merciful to them, show them love and grace in their ignorance. Still, beware not to fall into the same pit with those you secretly look up to also.

Gather friends to walk with you on this adventure; choose friends that you can trust, ones that will edify you and that are strong in your weak areas, so that they can join you in obtaining your goals. This makes the achievement of the goal you set so much sweeter because you have others surrounding you who genuinely care about you and what you’re working to achieve.

When you outgrow others, don’t be bitter, but be full of compassion and understanding. Stay gentle with an open mind. Keep good boundaries and hold firm to them; good boundaries can protect you from strife and heartache. Breathe deep, experience life and all the beauty that God has place in it for you. Be kind to others and most times they will be kind to you. Always remember where you’re from, and that you are a Hunter, and more importantly, you are a child of the King of Kings.

Always remember:

 

God loves you more than anyone.

Love him more than anything or anyone and love those around you as yourself.

Always be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.

Do everything that you do for the glory of God.

Your Mom and Dad are proud of you and love you more than anyone ever could!

 

I believe, if you have more than one child, the last is always the one you reflect on the most. You also hope you did all you could to help them be the person God showed you that they could become. Being parent is hard, but it can be the best thing you ever do. Then you become Popz and Abi, and it gets indescribably better!

 

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Scottish Paws

I’ve been thinking back to the days that I first heard the wobble and whoosh that gave way to the steady beating of a heart in each of my kids, remembering all the emotions that burst through, unveiling the thoughts of the possibilities of the life to come. The adventures that will be had, the love that will be shared, the memories that will be created. All to be cherished and looked back on as a priceless treasure no one could ever steal or destroy.

Lost in a moment of deep memories, my mind flips to memories to the other side. The side of looking at life through the eyes of a child. The memories of what it was like to grow up. The memories of love and pain, adventures and struggles hit me like a wall of water that swallows me to the point of almost drowning. Gasping for a breath, I struggle to the surface, following that familiar beating sound that steadily encourages me to push on up to the breaking point. Pushing through, breathing deeply, I clear my mind to focus on the sound of the heart monitor beating steadily. I’m whisked back to reality to knowing that when I focus my vision, life will not have miraculously changed.

My Dad will still be in the hospital. He will still be on the ventilator, and the future will still be uncertain. I can’t go back in time to change or prevent anything that has happened. He had fallen and hit his head, and then because of that first fall, he fell two more times over a few days causing more injury to his head. This, in turn, caused stroke-like symptoms that needed to be treated within the ICU. That is how we arrived at this point. He had to have brain surgery to alleviate the pressure in his brain that the blood had caused. This, in turn, was making his symptoms worsen. This is where we are now.

I say to myself, one last touch before I’m drug back to overwhelming reality. I reach out and clasp onto the thick, strong, familiar rough surface that I have hung onto for safety so many times before. A dear friend of mine, Gerri, always called these particular type hands Scottish paws. This seems to be a common trait of someone with a Scottish heritage. But this time is different than other times I have held his hand.

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There is no return in the grasp. I breathe deep holding onto the air in my lungs, I clearly hear and feel my own heartbeat, almost in sync with the monitor.

At that moment, it was like all the memories of life gone past flew through me. I tried to lock onto one, but just as quick as they fly into reach, they are snatched away, replaced with others. 49 years of experiences flutter by like fingers skimming the pages of a thick, old book. Some pictures impress deeper than others, causing me to laugh, others make my heart sink a little deeper.

The ones that hung with me were some of the stories I loved to hear him tell over and over again.

Like the time our family went to the shore and brought back crabs. I was young, maybe 5, if that. I can still smell that pungent crustaceans’ odor. As the story goes, there were some stray cats that loved to sit on our porch, singing and wooing the night away. The loud calls of the lovesick felines drove my parents nuts. So, my dad got the bright idea of using his saltwater catch to its fullest potential.  As the story goes, he placed the crabs out on the front porch where the cats would gather for their nightly serenade. I have no clue how he kept the crabs on the porch, but I do remember the occasional screech of a cat being pinched. For some reason, the chorus of cats never came back to our house.  I don’t know why this one has stuck with me so strongly, other than that he would laugh every time he told it.

Another thing that resurfaced was the many times my dad was willing to help me try and achieve a new goal or be willing to do some of the craziest things. Back when I was teen, I started a Christian singing group, and we would use backtracks to sing and added some simple choreography. My dad was our sound guy. He would hit play on the tape deck and adjust microphone levels. He would also flip the toggle switches on our custom light board that he had made. This was his thing, and whether he would admit it or not, he loved doing it. Somewhere along the line, we got him a sunvisor from a Christian music radio station to wear when he was on the job. This was no ordinary sunvisor, folks, oh no, this visor had small chasing LED lights powered by a 9v battery attached to the back strap. He called it his “Kit Hat” because it was like the hood light on the car in the TV show Knight Rider.

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Another funny example of the ends to which he would go to help is when I entered a lip sync contest. There was $75.00 of Christian music at stake here. This was a huge deal! So, I came up with an idea to perform. Just to make sure the odds were in my favor, I entered three different times once by myself, second with my singing group “Live Wires For Christ,” then lastly as a trio. The trio didn’t start out as a trio. At first, it was only my best friend at the time, Sam, with me. I thought it would be fun to do a funny song that had… shall I say an Italian flair. Sam was a proud Italian and loved to let everyone know it. So, the song we wanted to do was by an artist named Carman; the song was called “Spirit-filled Pizza.”

We started to plan out our song and what we would do to act it out and everything was awesome, until we got to the last part of the song, because we needed just one more person to make it really work.

Here is the idea of the story portrayed in the song. Two cousins wanted pizza, so one sends the other out to an uncle’s pizza joint. But the one going to get the pizza got distracted, wandered into a church and got saved. When he returned to his cousin, he “claimed” his life for Jesus. Then six months later the other cousin accepts Jesus. Then all he wants to do is find his little brother, and claim his life for the Lord. And that is the song in a nutshell.

So, we had Sam and me, but we needed a little brother. Somehow, we convinced my dad to play the part of the little brother. My dad has a full beard and is pretty straight-faced. He was not the upfront, on-stage kind of person unless it had to do with being a cub scout pack leader. He was kind of a serious guy. Dad has always worn jeans or work pants, with a pocketed polo, and most of his polo shirts were of a pastel color. You could always find a pen and a small tablet in the shirt pocket, and if you saw him right after work, he would have half a Zagnut or Butterfinger bar in there too.

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So, besides dad being like a fish out of water with this, he had one other issue that no one thought of. On the week of the contest, my dad had his teeth removed, and had false teeth made. He got his new teeth the day before the contest. I recall him having a difficult time with the fit of the dentures. He was saying that unless he clinched his teeth together they felt like they would fall out or worse he was afraid that if he squeezed too hard they may pop right out of his mouth. As a teen, this all seemed very amusing to me at the time. I assured him that it would all be good, and we would go easy on him.

See, when it came to the part of the little brother, dad would come out, sit down. Sam and I would grab ahold of him, kind of doing the revival evangelist routine, pushing him back and forth with laying on of hands and such. We really did shake him a bit, but I promised we would tone it back a bit for the actual performance.

When it came time for our number, everything was going great. We had the audience eating out of our hands. Then it was time for my dad when he came out the crowd erupted and that energy transferred to Sam and I, and we hammed it up. The only thing dad could do was sit there and hold on to his teeth for dear life. He couldn’t help but laugh. So, he sat there looking at us like we were crazy, but he had the funniest smile that didn’t change throughout the whole time. He looked like the Cheshire cat smiling.

He admitted at some point his teeth started to move but he kept them in his mouth. We came away with third place with that song. The song I did alone actually won first place. I have a VHS tape of the contest; I’m sure it would make great YouTube content.

I could go on with other experiences that stick like glue, trains and slot racers, matchbox cars, touring buses. He always wanted his own touring bus/RV. I’m sure as any dad, he had and has dreams and hopes for me and my children. All too much to take in, but in times like these, we long to drink from the firehose to get as much as we can, because the moments are not guaranteed.

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The visions that rush my head are overwhelming, but the one thing that is a common thread that he showed and taught me was love. You work with what you have and do your best to provide for those who God has entrusted to you, all the while loving in a way that is so deep that it’s almost impossible to express. All except when you feel the touch of a rough, strong hand grab on to your hand, and then you just somehow know. You know that you are loved, and have been loved as only a proud pop can love.

It almost physically hurts to let go, but the hope is there that better days are coming. Knowing that three things remain… faith, hope, and love, which love is the greatest of these. Love is all we really have to give and receive. To quote my dad’s favorite band of all time, The Beatles, “All you need is Love. Love is all you need.”

As I write, my dad is still fighting to overcome this place that he is in. My faith stays solid, and I look to the future with the hope that he will recover. I’ve been told that it will be a very long road to recovery. The daily updates give me more hope that this 73-year-old man has a chance to live a vibrant life again.

 

 

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Lessons Taught, Learned, And Lived Out

On this night, I’m sitting with a heavy heart and so many emotions that it’s hard to even think. I almost can’t grasp that what has happened is actually reality, though I know it is. It was only a few days ago when I answered Silas’s phone to talk to my mother-in-law, Jo. She was calling to wish the boy a happy birthday.

So, as all of my boys and I do (even sometimes Tori), I acted as if I was Si. After she wished me a happy birthday, I thanked her, after all, it was my birthday only 2 days earlier. After a few comments, she asked, “Is this you, Butch?” I laughed, and so did she. Then her normal response followed, “What am I going to do with you, Butchie?”

We talked for a bit as we normally did about all the normal stuff– the kids, the grands, and her health. She told me that she had been sick with the flu, but assured me that she was fine. She had thought that the Lord was going to take her, but she said it just must have not been her time. Then, she assured me that when that time came, she was ready and willing to go.  I thought nothing of this until tonight. Little did we know, but her time was short, and that fact took the entire family and her friends by surprise.

She went home with the Lord on Feb 24th 2018.

Over the last days, I have heard stories of her life some good, some very sad. They all conclude with how much she loved everyone and how much of an impact she had on so many lives. I have so many things to say about what life was like and memories I have. For now, I have settled for just telling these few.

Now my life story with my mother in law is a bit unique because she knew me from when I was a tot. Oh, she loved to tell stories about that too.

When I was just little, like under 2, she and my dad worked together at a store called The Big N. This is also ironically where my wife’s story starts too. Big N is where Jo met Chrissy’s father.

As Chrissy and I started to date it became known to us that a long time ago our parents knew each other.

I had just started to come over to Chrissy’s house, when her mom started asking the normal parental questions about this kid who was hanging out with her daughter. Now I have to admit, I had just turned 17, and Chrissy was 13, when we met. So, it was normal to have question of this older boy who took a liking to her daughter. Through the questions over dinner she asked if I was any relation to a Bill Hunter? I said, “Well yes, that’s my Dad!” Oh crap I thought, how did our parents know each other? She said, “And your mom– is her name Phyllis?” I said yes. At this moment as I was a bit nervous looking at Chrissy, I could tell that she could have crawled under the table. Then what Jo said next really made Chrissy and me totally embarrassed.

She said, “I know you! I knew you when you were a baby. I changed your dippers!” Oh, my goodness! My new girlfriend’s mom has seen me naked, and I never had a clue! Ugh!

Since then, this has been one of her favorite stories to tell, especially when I was introducing her to new people. Oh, she thought this was hilarious! After 30 years you would think the joke was getting old, but nope, never.

Then she also loved to tell the story of how I would come into the store to find my dad. She would say, “I could hear him coming a mile away, clipity, clop, clipity, clop, running down the aisle in his cowboy boots and hat.” She would say that when you heard those boots, everyone knew here comes Butchie, Butchie, Butchie!

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She loved me, and I loved her, though we had our moments for sure. Chrissy says we’re together today only because her mom always made her make up with me after we broke up. So, I have her to thank as I have so many times for the wonderful gift of the woman I love, the mother of my children.

I will miss her greatly, and she will always have a special place in my heart.

She helped us though some hard times on more than one occasion and encouraged us when we needed it too. Though there were tough times too, for example when we had to go on our own and follow the path the Lord was leading us too 9 hours away from our home. This definitely was not a great time for her.

Though we had heartaches and pain, and in spite of what we disagreed on or had a hard time accepting, there was always love that brought us back. I have learned from experience and by watching others that there will always be difficult times in life, no matter who you have a relationship with, family or not. At some point, you just need to realize that love conquers all.

Oh, there will be scars and broken hearts, but it’s what you choose to do with the brokenness that really matters. It will make you stronger for sure, but you have to choose if you will let it make you bitter or better, that is your choice. We can focus on the negative, or we can choose to look past the hurt and pain, leaving whatever it may be where it belongs in the past, and try to focus on a positive future. This is hard and can be timely process, but life is short and unpredictable, so do all you can to heal quickly and make things right. We are not promised tomorrow. So, with that in mind, I try to live by a few rules.

  1. The problem is never the problem
  2. Hurt people hurt people
  3. You can never own someone else’s problem
  4. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink

I have a few others, but these are some big ones that help me process and move forward in life.

Life is so short, and it is such a beautiful gift. We need to use it to its full potential, and help those around us however we can by sharing love and kindness to all.  Don’t throw away or waste a moment.

There will always be thing that should have been said or done, but don’t let that stop you from learning and loving again and moving ahead.

Like I said, I will miss Mom Crossley, a.k.a. eight-toed Jo! Knowing her has been a wonderful thing, and if I were to try to share one life lesson that I have learned from having a relationship with her it would be this for now. Make a difference where you can, however you can, but don’t sacrifice yourself or those you love along the way. YOLO swag for life!

Thank you, and I Love you Jo! You are missed!

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Where’s My Partner?

Have you ever been surprised buy something in a good way so much that you cherish each second that passed as it unfolded before your eyes? I have, and I also know that experiences like this are hard to pull together and execute effectively. I’m really hard to surprise. I have a innocent way of putting pieces together when something is going on. I sometimes can pick up on the little things when I’m not supposed to, and then I end up soiling the surprise for myself.

Then on the other side of things, let someone try to leave intentional clues or hints to something that I should be able to figure out, and I’m usually late to the game. I totally miss my cue and mess things up.

When I do figure things out, I have a tendency to get really mad at myself and disappointed. I have a difficult time hiding my feelings when I feel like I do something dumb. This is then taken by others that I’m not happy with whatever is happening. Which is most times the furthest thing from the truth.

So when these seasons of the year come around when surprises may take place I somehow subliminally ignore things so I don’t mess things up. This is usually when Chrissy tries to communicate something with subtle hints, and I totally miss it. Then I’m in trouble, rightly so.

One last thing before I get into this story, I don’t know why but for some reason, birthdays are hard for me. I get a little moody and depressed. I don’t know if it’s just the fact that I’m getting older, which is stupid, we all get older. Then it also maybe the time that I allow myself to look back on the past too much. I try to live in positivity, but it’s easy to slip into the negative areas of life and start to focus on what you have failed at or disappointments you have had. With all that said, it’s hard to surprise me, especially around my birthday.

Now, this was not the case on this occasion few years back. I had been given a surprise that will forever stay as one of the best birthday surprises I have ever had. Chrissy would be the first to tell you that I like to dance. I may not be the best at, it but hey, as long as you’re having fun, do it, and you’re not hurting anyone, right? (I try not to step on toes).

So, on this particular year, Chrissy told me that we were going somewhere for my birthday and told me I needed to wear clothes I could move in, but look nice, and I had to have shoes with leather soles. I was then told not to question anything. She ended by assuring me that I would have a great time.

As the day of our mysterious date approached, I remember having a hard time finding the right shoes, but everything else was easy. And, eventually, I did find some shoes.

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. It was a Sunday afternoon, and there was a knock on the door; it was one of our babysitters. She said, “Hi, I’m all set to watch the kids!” At this point it seemed like everyone knew what was going to take place, but me.

Chrissy came out to the living room dressed very pretty, but that’s nothing hard for her. She took a deep breath and said, “Ok, you ready to go?

I said, “Where we going?

“No questions! I have directions, you just need to drive.”

So, as we left the house my mind was racing about where we could possibly be going. As we passed certain land marks, I crossed off ideas that I had formed in my head.

She had me go to an area that I had never been before. As I drove, there were all these huge pole barn like buildings. Itlooked like an industrial warehouse area. She gave me directions from her piece of paper, turn up here on the right. If I said the I wasn’t excited, I would be lying. If I said I wasn’t a bit fearful of what was to come, it would be a lie too. You know how your stomach gets tight right before you do something that is exciting and scary all together? Well, that was me.

Chrissy shouted, “Here! Turn here!”

It was a huge building with a big stone parking lot, only a few cars in the lot.

I asked, “Are you sure this is where we are going?

She said, “I think so.”

Then she glanced at the building and looked back at me with a sparkle in her eye and a nervous smile.

She said, “Yep, this is it. We may be a little early, so let’s wait until we see someone else go in.”

This is customary for Chrissy, especially when we are doing something new or she is unsure of where we should be.

We sat in the car and waited for what seem like forever. Finally, cars stared to pour in, and people went in the door on the side of the building. We got out and made our way to the building that’s when Chrissy looked at me and took another deep breath and nervously said, You better know that I love you, and you better like this! Happy birthday!

I asked, “What is it?” as we entered a door that said something about a club. We went through the door and rounded a corner. The entrance opened up into huge hall with a wooden floor and a stage. There were tables and chairs surrounding the polished floor. I looked at her and said, “What is this? And what are we doing?”

“Surprise!”she said with a smile.

All in one breath with her words running together she said, “We’re going to learn how to swing dance. Oh gosh, what was I thinking? This was such a dumb idea!”

Chrissy has never enjoyed dancing; she has always found an excuse not to dance. She will stand and sway to the music, and if I am lucky, I can get her to slow dance with me. On our wedding day, I think if her Nanny wouldn’t have given her something for her nerves, we would have never made it through the reception. So, for her to even attempt to learn how to dance was huge. Just thinking about this gift she gave me chokes me up.

I grew up dancing with my mom and every once in a while, if there was a good song playing on the oldies station Dad would grab mom’s hand, and they would cut the rug together. Of course, I would cut in and try to learn whatever it was that they were doing. The twist, mash potato, jitterbug, the stroll, just to name a few. Our dance floor was most commonly in the kitchen. Like I said dancing was something I loved, but for Chrissy it was not. She would rather do something else, anything else. So, when I say this was a huge thing, it’s really not an exaggeration at all.

I grabbed her hand, pulled her in close, and said, Thank you, but you don’t have to do this.”

The truth was that I was a bit nervous too. Being a person with dyslexia, I find that following instructions about left and right can be a bit of a challenge; one that still haunts me from childhood to this day.

She looked me in the eyes and said, “Oh we’re doing this.”

Just then a call from the floor came. We were told to get into a circle with our partner facing us. So we would have a big circle, then a smaller circle inside the big one.

We were welcomed, and given an outline for the night. We were told this was an introductory class to swing dance. Then followed with some basic instructions. Honestly, I don’t remember most of what was said. What I do remember is Chrissy looking at me saying, “I can’t do this!” And with every new move, she would giggle and the giggles turned into anxious laughs. We were having fun and getting comfortable with what we were learning, when all of a sudden, we heard the words “Switch! Outside move to the left. The panic and anxiety on Chrissys face was like someone told her she had to get naked.

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She looked at me and said, “No way!”Then she was somewhat pushed to another partner. This kept happening, we were slowly making our way around the circle. With each new partner, our eyes would meet, and she would silently mouth the words “HELP ME!”

Chrissy was about 6 people away and the next time the instructor said to switch, she quickly ran over to me, and politely said to the person next in line, “He’s my partner,please just skip us. She kept this up though out the rest of the evening, in spite of the instructor’s side comments and dirty looks. I believe she even said out loud once or twice while looking at me, “I payed to learn to dance with you, not someone else.”

Overall, we had a great time and even agreed to perhaps learn more. This was a very special time for me,, and I don’t ever want to forget the love and sacrifice Chrissy made to make this night awesome for me.

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I did order us some VHS tapes on swing dancing to learn in the privacy of our own home at our own pace, but after receiving the tapes somehow they disappeared. I still wonder to this day what really happened to them. I do recall finding the second tape somewhere unusual, but the first tape never resurfaced.

In our kitchen today, you will see a sign that Chrissy picked up. It says “In this kitchen we dance,” and since that time we do. I believe we have more spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen now that we have grandbabies and daughters-in-love.

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We dance unashamedly as David did before the Lord. We dance in celebration of the blessings the Lord has given us.

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Hunter Traditions

The scene is set at the turn of the 20th century, in Russia. Tevye, a Jewish father is trying to hold on to what he had been taught his entire life and has been part of the faith and belief system that has been handed down to him from generations who came before him. He finds himself having his beloved beliefs and traditions being challenged. The musical’s opening number rings in my head, “Tradition! Tradition!” Fiddler on the Roof is one of my favorite shows ever.

The word tradition rings louder no other time of the year than during the Christmas season. I know in our family, Christmas drips with tradition. You need to be careful, because if you do something more than 2 years in a row, it’s highly probable that it will stick forever. Then if you forget or try to skip it one year, you will be met with overwhelming opposition proclaiming, “We have to do that… it’s a family tradition!”

The Hunter holiday season starts with Thanksgiving and ends sometime in January, when the tree is disassembled. So, in reality, it lasts somewhere around 2 months. I thought it would be fun and entertaining to share some of our fun traditions that still carry on, as well as some that have died a hard death, and even one or two that are revived yearly, but should probably stay dead.

One year, Chrissy wanted to take the kids to the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Chicago. You know the one that’s on TV every year. After some diligent research, Chrissy found out that we needed to arrive early and bundle up because most years it’s colder than a brass toilet seat in the Yukon.  You need to be there EARLY to secure a good spot. So, we put a plan together. The first year was fun. The second year, now that was the year that was more than entertaining and after that, it was decided that it would probably be in the best interest of the Hunter family not to go again. The issue is that this is one of those traditions that keeps trying to come back.

So, you may be wondering why we needed put this to rest? Well… it has to do with Chrissy getting into an argument with one of Chicago’s finest policemen. Long story short is that we were told to move from our “spot,” the one we had been at for over an hour with all the kids. It was a great place to see the entire parade, but we were told to move back. So, we did, only to have other people move in and sit right where we had been, blocking the kids’ vision. This did not go down well with the Hunter momma. So, she got the attention of the officer and asked why these people were allowed to stay where we were not? The cop was pretty irritated and said, Ma’am,  you need to relax and enjoy the parade from where you are sitting. Totally not cool. Well, the momma bear was getting ready to roar about the injustice that her family was dealt. I could see the tension rising, and so I had to step in and calm her down. We ended up moving to a better location, nowhere near as good as the original, but we still had fun and everyone could see the parade. We all agreed on the train ride home, that if I hadn’t stepped in, we would have been watching the parade from the police station waiting room.

Another tradition we have is writing on a special table cloth what we are thankful for. This one was a keeper, but has since been put on hold until we find a new tablecloth. We started a new one a few years ago, but we had a few guests who didn’t understand our special tradition and well, sharpies are permanent. Though it was nothing horrible, our guests’ inscriptions weren’t supportive of our values and the Hunter Code, so we retired that tablecloth. The problem is that we can’t find a tablecloth big enough to fit the table I built for 13 people.

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One last simple, and from what I hear popular tradition, is a thanksgiving puzzle that everyone works on throughout the day while visiting and enjoying each other. We choose a new puzzle every year. Some years the puzzle will last until Christmas, then other years it only lasts the day.

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Thanksgiving also starts the Christmas movies too. Our list has the traditional stop motion tv specials like Rudolph and Frosty. We also have a few others that we love , like, the Polar Express, Arthur’s Christmas, The Santa Clause Movies, Christmas Vacation, and The Grinch.  Our favorite traditional movies are White Christmas, Christmas Story, and Braveheart. Yes, Braveheart. Being of a Scottish heritage, we start the New Year off with this one, I honestly think this got on our list because it was the only movie on tv one New Year’s Day, and it was being played over and over again. So the next year, someone remembered that we had watched Braveheart, and decided it was a “new” tradition for us.

A few of our other traditions are cutting down a fresh tree as a family, and decorating it as a family too. Even our married kids come home to help decorate the tree. This can be tricky with everyone’s schedule, but it’s a tradition, so we make it happen. This is also the start of a huge rivalry in the clan. The issue is who puts the angel on the top of the tree. When the kids were little, I would lift them up, and they would place the angel on the top of the tree. The problem arose one year when we forgot who put the angel on the previous year. Everyone started arguing over whose turn it was. So now, Chrissy and I have to take pictures of who does the tree topper for evidence the next year when everyone starts arguing about whose turn it is. We were doing oldest to youngest, but that got messed up somewhere along the line. Even now, as adults, the kids bicker back and forth about who will get to put the angel on the tree until we go look at the old pictures.

One way we get everyone together during the Christmas season is the reading of the family Advent book. This is a sacred book that can only be opened and read and looked at during the Advent season. Now that the kids are older, instead of reading from the book every night, we just get together each Sunday evening leading up to Christmas. We have dinner and read the Advent book.  December 26th, the book is tied shut with a gold ribbon until the next year’s Advent. The book is unique in many ways, but the biggest thing is that each page has a different door on it and each door opens to reveal a part of the birth of Jesus Christ. The author and illustrator are a husband and wife, and the book truly is amazingly beautiful.

This is another thing where the kids still try to outwit each other because they all want to be the one who opens the Christmas Day door. They count who will read which door and as we each take a turn reading the doors; they try to get themselves in the order they think will increase their chances to open the Christmas door, the last door of the book. Now that we have added to the clan with daughters and grands, it’s even more fun to watch as they try to get to be the one to open the last door.

On Christmas Day, before any gifts are unwrapped or anything else, we take a little time to read the Advent Book all the way through, and I read Luke’s take on the birth of Christ from the Bible. Then we take time to pray. Then, and only then, can we start to open the gifts. We have been asked how we do gifts. With a family our size, gifts can be an expensive challenge. So, Chrissy and I came up with giving 3 smaller gifts, 1 large gift, and a stocking to each one. We decided on 4 gifts because of the 3 gifts brought by the Three Wise Men and given to Mary and Joseph in honor of the Christ child. The one larger gift is to remind us of the great gift of grace God gave us through His Son. The stockings are full of a variety of small gifts, just like the variety of gifts the Holy Spirit brings us when we accept Jesus as our Savior.

Another tradition that we think is fun is our Christmas Eve dinner tradition. I’m not sure when this started; I believe it was when we moved from Pennsylvania to go to school for ministry. With our families being so far away, we started some of these traditions to fill the void we felt and to give us something to look forward to. Holidays are hard when separated from extended family. For this tradition in particular, it came from one of the traditional movies we watch, “The Christmas Story.” It’s from the part after the family has their turkey stolen by the neighbor’s hounds. They end up in the only restaurant open on Christmas,  a Chinese restaurant. So, each Christmas Eve, after Christmas Eve services at church, we eat dinner at a Chinese restaurant. We have had so much fun with this tradition. Over the years, we have enjoyed being able to invite others along with us to take part in this fun tradition. We have shared in some great conversations and in building some amazing relationships. I believe the most we have had was around 26 people at one time taking part in this tradition.

After we are done with our Chinese feast, we head back to our home for the reading of the Advent book, as well as another fun tradition that the kids came up with. As they got older they wanted to buy each other gifts, but we really didn’t have the money to let each of them shop for each other, so they came up with what they call Secret Santa. We draw names on Thanksgiving Day, and on Christmas Eve, we give our gifts to whose names we drew. The kids would use money they earned, as well as Chrissy and I helping a little, so they could get their special gift.

These are just a few of our favorite traditions we have that are close to our family’s hearts and help make us who we are. Each year, Chrissy and I think through what we do and decide which traditions we will make more of a priority. We also try to see if there are any new things we want to add to the list.

This year we added two fun games to the list that seemed to go well and were fun. But we will have to wait and see if they will stand the test of time in the Hunter clan.

I would love to hear some of the fun traditions that your families have; we may want to borrow them!

 

 

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Trains, Flames, and Automobiles

 

The other day Chrissy and I wanted to grab something to eat. We had heard that a new restaurant was opening that was owned by the same person who owned another restaurant that had closed a while back, that we absolutely loved.  The place that closed had great food at a reasonable price. We loved the atmosphere there, as well as the décor. Sometimes there are just those places that immediately whisk you back in time to earlier years when life seemed a little easier. These places flood you with good memories. That is a big reason I liked this place… it had a cozy home feel to it. The place settings were mismatched, but really nice. It was like someone went to your grandparent’s house and bought a few of their place settings, then went to someone else’s grandparents, and did the same thing over and over until they had a huge collection of place settings.

 

The other cool thing was the mismatched cloth napkins at each place setting. Never the same, but always nice and clean. There’s just something about having a cloth napkin at meal time that makes things feel special.

The biggest thing that we loved was the floor. The floor was covered with old vintage magazine pages sealed with a clear coat protectant. It was the coolest thing. It may have been a bit feminine, but I was good with it, because to drew my mind back to my grandmother’s house. Living so far from family, it was a nice place to have a cup of coffee and a homemade sweet treat like my mom would make from one of my grandmother’s recipes. It was quiet most times, so I could think and plan things that I needed to. It was always a great meeting place too, especially for a date with my sweetheart.

So, when this placed closed, it was very sad. It left a big hole for a while in my repertoire of hangout places and in our small community.

When I heard that this new place was opening in the next town over, I was super excited! I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that the food would be great. Recently, we were able to go for a late breakfast.

When we entered the place, which we had been in before when it was another coffee shop, we both were pleasantly surprised.

The old establishment that occupied this building before was nice, but seemed a little dark. It was okay, but definitely not my favorite.

Now seeing what the new owners did, it was great! It took a few months for them to open, but I had heard it was partly because of redoing the floors. It was clean and friendly from the time we entered to the time we checked out.

We were welcomed by amazing magazine-page floors with a food theme, which then transitioned the dining area into railway magazine pages.

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Now, if I’m going to be honest I didn’t notice that they were railway magazines at first. What I did notice was a picture on the wall that was familiar to me. When Chrissy and I went on our first cruise, as a last-minute excursion, we chose to go on an amazing train ride known as the White Passage.

Side Note: This was when I got to see an American Black Bear and her cub in the wild. The Chinese man that spotted her, now that was a hoot for sure! He was pointing and yelling in English with the Chinese accent, “Beer! Beer over dare!” If we were on a boat, we would have tipped over with the sudden shift of weight. He was so very excited.

The Picture in this little restaurant reminded me of the Yukon Railway…the train company that carried us through the passage. After a little digging, I found it was not the same one as in the picture. Great Northern Railway and Yukon had similar logos.

But, as I looked around it all came together– the name of the new establishment “The Coffee Depot,” the train and railway décor, not to mention that the little gem is situated next to busy train tracks, where almost every hour you hear the horn of a locomotive and feel the rumble as it passes through Syracuse.

Looking around the dining area made think of my parents at Christmas time. Chrissy and I got to talking about how every year my dad set up a train track in our house. Some years it was huge, and other years it was small. Ever since I can remember, my parents had a platform set up.

Dad’s little “helper” (Butch 1970)

My dad has a love for model trains. And every year, it would take him weeks before Christmas to plan and set up this display.

This was always a big deal, and no matter what, this display had to be done before Christmas.

My parents would decorate the display with a little town that they had created and the focus was the train station in the town.

My dad would construct the base and get the ground laid, some years it was green like grass, while other years it was snow. He would carefully pour this tiny black gravel for roads, and put miniature lights up from underneath the wood to light the shoebox building that my parents had made with great detail. Dad had some scale structures called Plasticville, but they were very expensive, so they only had a few of those to start.  They even had street lights that lit up the roads at night.

Then they would build a paper mache mountain, with a wax waterfall that had variant blue colors of water running down to a pond. The mountain also had a tunnel that the train could pass through.

One year, my parents wanted to get trailing pine and green moss for the platform, so we went for a hike up the mountain we lived on. We found some, brought it back and constructed a green mountain with live moss.

Side Note: It was never a good day if the train jumped the track in the tunnel. Most times this was due to unsupervised little hands as the conductor.

The Lionel train was my dad’s baby. He always took special care of the old engine and caboose. Every year, we would make a trip to one of the most fascinating stores… English’s Train Shoppe. This place had every train you could think of on display.There were so many that they even had them hanging from the ceiling. The best part was that they always had most of them running. I absolutely loved the trip to this place. This is where my dad would get supplies and have the engine serviced. This was also the place where we would get the corrugated red brick paper that would run around the sides of the platform to hide all the wires underneath the town.

He would finish the display off with little people figures and matchbox cars. The cars were special because this was something we both were enthusiastic about. He had ones from when he was a boy, then he would add new ones that were mine.

The older I got the more I enjoyed the platform and looked forward to helping with it. The older I got, the ornerier I got too. One year I un-repentantly started a tradition. I created an incident with some of the matchbox cars.

Side Note: We always had matchbox cars, never hot wheels. It was like a rival team or something I really don’t know why, but dad only liked the matchbox cars. I remember him saying “I don’t want any of that Hot Wheels Sh*t on my platform!” We really didn’t do sports, so I guess we did miniature car companies?

So, this one year, I took some of the cars and created a fender bender scene. I had two cars crashed, and a gas tanker truck flipped on its side. I pulled out the fire trucks from the fire station and the ambulance too, and I placed them at the scene of the accident. I did think about setting the truck on fire but luckily I realized that could be a very bad thing. Besides, I wanted to see how long it would take my dad to notice this little eye sore in his pleasant, peaceful town.

One thing, I haven’t mentioned was that the platform was sacred. No one could touch it after it was finished– it was a piece of fine art. So, when he finally noticed the destruction I created, he became almost unglued! It was so funny that I had to repeat it again and again over the years. Now it’s one of those things that my dad puts on there himself. Perhaps, it’s just a reminder to him of the fun, silly things I did while growing up.

A few years back, I received a very special gift that I treasure. My dad got me a Lionel train set, so I could continue the train tradition in our family. I don’t know that I have done the best job of doing that as a dad, but I want to see if I can do better as a Popz for my grands.

I love thinking about these special moments, they remind me of the love we shared as a family growing up. The platform was a yearly connecting point for the family, but seemed to be even more special to dad and me. I hope to have that same connection with things with my kids and the grands too!

Lastly, The Coffee Depot’s food was great, as well as the trip down memory lane!

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