Career Advice From A Navajo

            I stood in front of that little church in awe of the emptiness that stood before me. In all of my travels, no place seemed to have a more profound effect on me than that little alcove of the Navajo Reservation. My soul felt refreshed - and my heart felt lighter. I remember my senses being excited by the smell of grass painted delicately by a light rain, a gentle wind on my face combatting the heat of a coarse summer, and the sight of nature unblemished by man. The simplicity of that place made me yearn for a shedding of my worldly trinkets and burdens. I stuck my arms out in an attempt to grow myself – as if in making myself bigger I would be able to soak in even more of the desert wilderness. I stood there and communed both with God and his creation for a long time. It was only when I was interrupted by a long haired man breaking over the horizon that my arms returned to their side and my mind was brought back to reality. The impact of our conversation that day would only come fully to fruition last night.

-CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR LAST YEAR OF COLLEGE- That was the title of the email I got last Thursday. I had been telling people that this was my last year at university for quite some time, but I don’t think I believed it. In all honesty I wasn’t sure if I would finish. This was never because of a lack of ability, rather because I didn’t know if college was for me. I spent my first year in Wichita Falls as a recluse making me stingingly unhappy. I ran away from that emptiness in the form of a cross continent voyage, and as a result my perspective of the world was completely altered. Inadvertently, this new vision made me despise the bureaucracy of college and the unspoken American law that in order to amount to anything, a college diploma was a necessity. In so many ways I returned here with a lightened heart – but in so many ways I returned here with a furious anger. Abroad my value was measured by my abilities. No one asked to see a piece of paper before I taught a classroom of special needs children. Abroad no one asked me for a resume as I assisted home healthcare. Abroad no one cared that I was 20 /21 at the time. When I got home, I felt like I was being tortured by school just for the sake of being tortured.

I’ve almost done it though. I submitted to the necessity, and I will soon be allowed to reap the benefits of my perseverance. And while to many this would be exciting, I find myself desperately confused and stressed. I have to keep asking myself - what’s next? I’ve had a tentative plan that I’ve used for motivation to get me to this point, but is that the right plan? Am I selling myself short and taking an easy route? In American vernacular, I think it translates into – What will I do? I’ve been wrestling with this. It’s taken a toll on me to the point where just about everyone I know has asked if I’m doing ok this week. Kids constantly ask each other what they want to be when they grow up in fun and excitement – and now for the first time I have to ask myself with more serious intent.

My poor girlfriend has attempted to carry me along these last few days, constantly reminding me to pray and seek providence. She’s offered bits and pieces of encouragement, but more than anything she’s appeased my arrogant desire to constantly hear my own voice. She’s sat and listened to me more or less engage in conversation with my inner Josh for the last couple days. Finally, last night as she mediated for both the physical and mental Joshua, I had a profound break through. The image of the long haired Navajo man dashed into my mind, and I was called back to perspective.

When he broke the horizon, I decided to sit down. Many of the Navajo I encountered in the interior of the reservation seemed skeptical about my presence initially. I admired them for constantly guarding their hearts. They were slow to speak, and cautious of revealing themselves. Many would awkwardly stand around me, as if feeling my heart and intentions, and then slowly warm up to me. Being a more outgoing type A person, this was very hard for me. I had to learn to be reserved, and I found that sitting down put the ball in the court of my new acquaintances. He finally reached me, and we exchanged hellos. More than most, he was particularly quiet. While he could have walked into the church to meet his friends, I think he felt obligated to stand there, and conversation came slowly. Eventually though, after discussing the rain, and the nice temperature, the door was opened to proceed to friendship.

When meeting fellow students in college, three questions always precede the conversation: (1) What’s your name? (2) What’s your major? (3) Where are you from? I’ve found now that I’m slightly older, when meeting new people these questions have been modified to the following: (1) What’s your name? (2) Where are you from? (3) What do you do? So, based off my normal formula, I asked the man – What do you do for a living? I’ll never forget the face he gave me. It was that very face that brought me back to my senses yesterday. He was confused. He was somewhat put off. He felt belittled. He looked at me and asked – What do you mean?

With dark brown eyes and long black hair he went on to tell me that he had a few sheep, he did pottery, painted sometimes, and liked to go on walks. At this point I became confused and pressured him again thinking that we merely had a miscommunication – No, I’m sorry! I meant what’s your job? I hurt his feelings. He thought I was talking down to him because he didn’t have a 9 to 5. He was very content living day to day. He explained if he needed money he’d make a pot or paint a picture and sell it as AUTHENTIC NATIVE AMERICAN ART. He wasn’t concerned about a career or living the American Dream. He was concerned with living. He was concerned with staying sober, loving his family, and following his new Christ whom he accepted three weeks earlier. Then he asked me what I did…

What do I do? I responded thusly: “Well, I go to school, teach special needs gymnastics, I like to watch tv, read, play video games, hike, hang out with friends, I’m a missionary right now, I write, I like to cook, sometimes I workout BLAH BLAH BLAH. And then he responded to me in the most incredible way… He smiled, tilted his head, and as his long hair fell over his deep weathered face he said – No, what do you do?

I thought about this last night. I am so concerned with doing something, that I’m not really doing anything. I’ve been feeling the way I have because I feel like I need to climb some imaginary ladder. I have been convinced by the world that I need to make x amount of dollars, start an IRA, find health benefits, squeeze in a family, raise a couple kids, and provide an excessive amount of worldly goods for me and my own. I felt sinful and sick last night as I referenced this memory to Monica. I brushed it aside to pick up this morning and digest it a little more. I need to take a step back and look at what I have. I don’t need any more stuff. I already have too much. I have a job that truthfully is really great, even from a financial aspect. I have a great family. I have a great girlfriend. What I don’t have lately is the peace that comes with being thankful.

Today I’m not thinking about what my title will be. I’m not thinking about a profession, a future house, or a salary. I’m thinking about the weather and how nice it is. I’m thinking about my God and how great he is. I’m thinking about my family and how blessed I am. What do I do? Well, today I just move one footstep at a time and make sure I stop to breathe in anything beautiful. I live for the first time in a week.  

What do you do?             

So mom, your son is going to college...

            It’s that time of the year where the blogs and articles are flying for kids getting ready to head off to school. No doubt high school graduates have received advice books about going to college they never read. They have endured long conversations with people of all ages telling them what to expect. They have scrolled their future college’s website trying to figure out how the next four to six years will go. These resources are everywhere. What about the parents though? I have yet to see an article letting parents know what the next couple years look like for their child and their relationship with said child. I can’t really speak for college girls. After four years they still confuse me, but I don’t think that will ever change.. I can speak for young men though, so this blog is dedicated to you moms with boys heading off to school. (Warning: This is a beyond honest post. You may be concerned at some of these points, but have faith there’s a happy ending.)

            You have raised a teenage boy, and you have watched him do some pretty stupid stuff. In fact, this summer you have probably attempted to ground him for some form of reckless behavior. I have bad news; this reckless behavior isn’t going to dissipate anytime soon. The collar is off, and those watchful eyes are gone. From experience and observation, it takes about two years for this ecstasy of freedom to lose its shine. You’ve done a good job though. You have instilled morals, faith, and self-esteem. My advice to you is simple. Have a sit down talk before your son leaves. Let him know there is going to be a new world of alcohol, girls, and accountability. He isn’t going to understand, this is sheer preemptive damage control. Tell him what to expect in these situations. Tell him what safety measures should be taken. Don’t condone anything, but let him know if he decides to drink not to drive. When he meets a girl he really likes, let him know the potential consequences of his actions and how to avoid them. If he is in a place where questionable activities are going on, walk home, phone a friend, or get a cab. Trust your son to make the right decisions, but give him some insurance.

            Let him fix his little mistakes. Your son knows he can count on you. If things ever got really bad you would be there in a heartbeat, and he knows it. He is also used to you helping him out of the little things. He needs that moment where he realizes his mistakes are his own. When I was a freshman at Arkansas, I accumulated enough parking tickets to have my truck towed. I called my Dad and let him know the situation, almost confident he’d help me out. To my surprise his answer was simple: “Figure it out.” He hung up the phone. I sat on my bed. And I tried to “figure it out.” The only solution I could think of was hiding beneath me, tucked away under the bedframe. I have owned an assortment of guitars, but I had and acoustic that I loved beyond words. I spent five hundred dollars on it, and it was my pride and joy. I knew I had to sell it, and I won’t lie, I cried. The price to get my truck from the lot was $200, and I pawned my $500 guitar for $175. The guy knew I was desperate, and he screwed me over bad. I scavenged up the rest of the $200 and paid my fine to the nice man at the tow lot. Dad called later asking me what we needed to do to repossess my Ford. He obviously just wanted me to stew in my ignorance. I told him what I did, and I know he was proud as he choked up on the phone. I was beyond upset, but I was also proud. I learned I was responsible for myself that day. Let him fix the little mistakes, even though it will kill you inside.

            Your son is going to be busy. I think parents forget that their child is (hopefully) going to class, doing homework, waiting in the cafeteria line, and all the while trying to make friends. You’re going to miss him, and you’re going to want to hear his voice. More times than not, he won’t pick up. Even when you know he’s doing nothing, he probably still won’t pick up the phone. While sometimes it’s simply because he’s busy, other times he just needs a break from everyone, including you. Life is crazy that first year, and I promise you’ll hear more from him later in his college career. My advice to you is this. Leave messages telling him that you just called to say you love him. Leave messages without insisting he call you back if it’s not an emergency. Leave messages that passively put the ball in his court. I promise he’ll respond at his earliest convenience. Texts are also ideal for the college boy. Ask him if he’s doing ok, or to do well on a test. Don’t try to have a ten minute conversation. Keep it simple. Be the one to end the conversation before he has the chance. It will confuse him, and he’ll call you later. By now you know reverse psychology is the key to raising a boy.

            Support his new trend. Whether he becomes a frat-star, hippie, Democrat, whatever, support this new trend. Tell him you bought him a Polo. Tell him you’re glad he’s saving the environment. Ask him if he saw the Democratic National Convention. Let him know you support whoever he wants to be. Don’t get too invested though, next year he’ll probably be something else. In the meantime, be gung-ho about whom he thinks he is!

            The most comforting words my mother ever gave me in regard to tough times was this: “You can do anything for a semester.” I vented to her about how difficult school and life was getting. Summer never seemed so far away, but she told me I could do anything for a semester. In essence, I could stick out the hard times and it would be summer before I knew it. It’s funny now though, I realize this is a formula sentence. As tough times have come and gone over the last four years, I find myself still hearing my mother say “You can do anything for –insert amount of time here-” It doesn’t matter though. Whether it’s “You can do anything for two months,” or “You can do anything for one week,” it’s still comforting to hear. Remind your son that he can persevere through anything. He can do anything for….

            Let your son know he can come home. Let your son know that he can take five years to graduate college. Let your son know he can take a break. If he wants to transfer schools, let him. Don’t put pressure on your son to have a traditional college experience. College isn’t the same as it was for you. Life isn’t the same as it was for you. Things are different for every person. He may be struggling. He may be hurting. He may be exhausted. He may know that he’s in the wrong place. Let your son know he can come home. Let him know that you will welcome him back for as long as he needs. Let him know you will support whatever decision. More times than not this will be enough to keep him going. These feelings of wanting to leave, move, or quit are usually stress related. More times than not, this stress is from academics. When you let him know there’s an out, and a safety net, he’ll feel like he can fail and that will give him a subconscious strength to just try his best. As you know, when he does try his best he will succeed.

            Trust your son. Have faith in your parenting. Have faith in the man your son is becoming. Advise him on his decisions, but trust that he’s smart enough to weigh the options. Trust that he’ll find his way. Trust that he’ll fix and learn from his mistakes. Trust that your son is everything and more that you ever dreamed he’d be. He’s going to fall. He may get his car towed. I’m sorry to tell you, he could very well spend a night in the drunk-tank. Don’t worry you’ll survive. More importantly he’ll survive. Get your crying out, and then put on a smile. Your son is going to college, and the next step is him bettering the world.   

Why Millennials Don't Suck: Part I

            It was the end of the world, at least that’s what I thought as a mere nine year old child. Predictions of massive blackouts, solar flares, and social decay had been harbored by my ears for months leading up to the turn of the century. I of course was left rightfully concerned to face Y2K. The new millennium came and went though, and since then I’ve lived through more predicted apocalypses than the dinosaurs. As a Millennial, I have been tasked with bringing on the destruction of the planet. I’m told that my generation has been doing a good job thus far. The world has been falling apart before I could even drive, so I suppose I came out of the womb ready to play Godzilla. In fact, it appears that I have successfully dismantled every form of progress gained throughout the 20^th century before even completing my college degree, getting married, having kids, or working a real job. I am a Millennial, and thus I am a God of Carnage.

            I’ve spent my morning shuffling through podcasts, YouTube videos, and radio listening to the news and hot button issues of the day. Of course, the usual controversy was floating through the airwaves regarding gay marriage, marijuana legalization, and abortion but I was surprised by a strong underlying tone. I was continually being prompted by reporters and talk show hosts to hate myself as a Millennial. Apparently I spend 99% of my time smoking pot while thumbing through social media, fornicating during YouTube advertisements, texting with the hand that isn’t holding the joint, burning books, compromising my beliefs, instigating street wars in Chicago, and all the while sleeping my day away. I guess I could at least argue I’m a multi-tasker?

            I’ve been left stewing at my desk for the last few hours processing what I have heard. While the ammunition is there, I refuse to hurl petty insults at the older generation in this blog. To do so would be hypocritical. The reason for this is (1) that it would be misplaced anger at a few media faces prompting me to ignorantly speak in generalizations as they do, and (2) to accuse the overwhelming majority of talented and good people in the baby boomers of being educated derelicts would make me the Bill O’Reilly of the Millennials. Instead, I have comprised a list of things Millenials have accomplished, do better, and should be recognized by their elders.                          

We Created a Language- Language is one of the most important creations of the human race and is a key factor separating man from animal. Thousands of languages have graced the world helping to pass information and contribute to the growth of the human mind. In the span of a decade, Millennials have created a language that is so effective in distributing information in a succinct manner, that the older generation has struggled and worked vigilantly to learn it. With the early cell phones came the invention of texting. I often laugh at how I’ll have to explain to my children that LOL, BTW, and ROFL were an invention created purely out of frustration. Texting on an old flip phone was a nightmare. Let me put it into perspective: To type “How are you doing” on an old flip phone, you would have to press a numerical keypad’s different buttons 33 times. Don’t understand what I’m talking about? Pull up your phone’s dial pad. Until the QWERTY keyboard was added to cell phones, texting was a beyond tedious experience. The result was a language created from acronyms and abbreviations. Soon the language evolved to be much more however. These acronyms began to take on different undertones rather than their spelled out meanings. For instance, LOL became a form of empathy and emotion displayed through writing in an unprecedented way. I’d rather leave it up to you to figure out what I mean as you text today. You most certainly are not laughing out loud each time you write this acronym.

The Skimming Accusation- A big criticism of the older generation in regards to our incompetency is the Skimming Accusation. Some like to say we have become so illiterate that we cannot even read a complete article. In fact, many of you reading this blog skimmed through the second half of the last paragraph getting to this next point. Rather than this being a weakness, the older generation must understand it is imperative in the modern era. With the internet came vast amounts of information huddled into one medium. As a result, when seeking to learn via the internet, one must filter through articles and writing quickly and with purpose. Skimming has become a means of deciphering whether or not an article is credible, useful, and worth taking a closer look at. Often times I find myself skimming through an article up until something strikes me as important. At which point, I will return to the top and begin a thorough read. As a student who has finished his bachelors in History, I have written more in depth research papers than the majority of you Baby Boomers. Nothing was more useful than using this skimming technique to pick and choose credible and important material. Reading in this way helps aid in sorting through the mass amounts of information you sadly never had at your disposal. I promise it’s not that we can’t read-- it’s that we have so much more to read.

Tolerance- Globally, America is famous for its racism and past sins regarding slavery. For many of us it is a denied aspect of our past. It’s important to keep in perspective that the civil rights movement was a mere stepping stone to tolerance. Racism after this movement was still prevalent and strong, though no longer legally backed. To be a racist in many ways just became a closet affair. It was socially unacceptable to display such intolerance, though the feeling was and is still there for many. It wasn’t and isn’t just a black and white issue. Social crimes against women, immigrants, and people of a different sexual orientation were always present, and still are. Millenials are simply more tolerant. Of course there will always be bigots, but Millennials seem to have helped make the country less discriminatory. I don’t even like to call it tolerance. For many it’s beyond just accepting people’s differences. They embrace and celebrate these different perspectives and heritages. A beautiful new blindness is sweeping throughout the country. Millenials have friends that would make their forefathers ashamed, and that’s awesome. Lots of work left, but Millenials are striving for equality.

Embracing New Things- Smart businesses have learned that technology grows exponentially. That is to say, each technological breakthrough will yield a substantially more advanced product than the one previous. Consumers must be able to adapt and accept these new changes or risk falling behind. Millennials have perfected the art of change. Throughout the course of our lives we have watched game consoles, cell phones, televisions, and computers evolve at a rapid pace. Every time a new product hits the market, Millennials embrace it and immediately apply it to their lives. Millennials have grown up in a world of change, and they embrace it in a way that is unprecedented historically. Rather than hold on to the old way of doing things, they anticipate and get excited for the next big thing. They find themselves thinking about how to improve what they have, and let the market know what they want. For instance, I’m waiting for a cell phone that is completely water and shatterproof. I don’t find myself hoping for this phone, rather I find myself waiting for it to come out. I’m not hoping for a touch screen television that performs similarly to an IPAD, still has a remote control but can be voice activated, syncs to my computer, and has my music library downloaded… I’m just waiting. Think about how long the older generation held out on getting a smartphone or the internet… That reluctance to change will not be found in the majority of Millennials.    

To be continued in Part II of Why Millennials Don’t Suck.  

To Bradley, and the College Freshman

              This weekend the littlest Jacobs boy will be turning nineteen. The time has flown as I’ve watched him grow and become a man. I say become a man, and yet I still remember him as the little kid that Chase and I could convince to do anything. Next year he will be going to college in Colorado and take that next step in life. Being a brother is a special relationship. Brothers can be thrown into any situation and work in silent communication. Their words have greater bearing on each other’s ears than the words of anyone else. It wasn’t a choice, but you were forced to be best friends. As decades pass though, you’re so thankful for that lack of choice. They can anger you in ways no one else can; simply because they know you better than anyone else. They make you laugh, cry, and fill you with pride when you see them accomplish goals often very different than your own. Brothers are special.

As the middle brother, I have a dual responsibility. I’m an older brother, and a little brother. I think because of this I have learned the importance of each role. The older brother is there to guide through experience and wisdom. He is charged with a commission to worry, be protective, and love unconditionally. As a little brother, you lead through experience and wisdom as well. You are commissioned to remind the elder of his youth, to learn from the mistakes of your predecessor, and love unconditionally too. However, age closes this gap of roles. Soon you find that roles become beautifully blurred. Brothers become confidants, advisors, and fellow soldiers in the wars of life. No longer is one superior or subordinate in all things, though this often was the case in youth. With age, each leads with his specific gifts uncontested. Brothers begin willingly granting command to the one best suited to lead the others. Time is the great equalizer.

Bradley’s birthday, and his new age, really hit home. He is so close to leaving for college and becoming an adult. So, to Bradley and other soon to be college freshmen, I write a list of important things to remember in college. I take the stance of “older brother” for one of the last times. Take your role as student, because I hope this will help you be a teacher later. Happy birthday big guy, and good luck in college. This is your present.

You’re an adult. Yes I know you think you are, but you REALLY are.

            By now most of you are eighteen and calling yourselves adults. Good news, you’re right. The problem is that you still live in your parent’s homes, your hometown, and you’re surrounded by the people that have only known you as that kid up the block. When you get left behind that first night, understand that the rest of the world isn’t just appeasing your ego by calling you an adult. To them you really are. The best part is that you have your independence. Now people respect and trust your decisions. You’re considered an independent and mindful person. You can be who you want to be, but be cautious. Being an adult doesn’t just mean that you get all the benefits, responsibilities are married to that. Professors have already received your payment for their classes, so fail away, they don’t care. The nice officer back home that might cut you a break is gone. The one patrolling around campus has no problem writing you a ticket, escorting you off certain premises, and throwing you in jail. You can choose to go out the night before a test, but be ready to deal with the consequences. This isn’t to scare you; well yes it is, but seriously make good choices.

Go to Class.

            It sounds so simple, but trust me; most mornings it feels impossible. There are two main reasons amongst a thousand I have for this. The first is that your professor will notice. Attendance in most places isn’t required, but professors are more willing to help out and reward a consistent student. The second is that going to class and taking notes usually has more value than just reading your homework. Professors would rather write test questions about life changing comments they’ve made than what someone else said in their book.

The Intimacy of Holding a Hand.

            For guys, your sexual endeavors are largely based off of what you think you’re supposed to be doing. Friends, movies, music all encourage you to create a sexual resume. For girls, you feel like you need to fall into this role men have created for you. At the base of it though, you all just want a form of intimacy and love. I promise you, a 3 a.m. walk holding hands is just as powerful.

The Coffee Test:

            A lot of the friends you are going to make will be found at parties and bars. If not, some of the first things you will be doing with new found comrades is going to parties. This is all fine and well, but a party friend is different than a real friend. If you can’t sit down and drink a coffee, play video games, or watch ESPN without getting bored, they probably aren’t worth too much investment. Nor is it healthy.

I hope you travel.

            Based off my own experience, I would say don’t take a whole semester off to see the world. As a side note, don’t take a semester off for any reason. Nothing is harder than going back to school.. Trust me. However, save up and visit someplace out of the states for spring, winter, or summer break. Studying abroad seems to be the most productive way of doing this, or a two week mission trip, but just make it happen. I promise it will turn your life upside down. It will destroy a gross, simple, and ignorant perspective you don’t even know you have. Be forewarned, life will never be the same. You will never grow more, and you will forever have a hunger to taste the world. Also, people will begin to look ignorant in your eyes. People will appear uneducated and wrapped up in their own little world. Be kind and respectful, they really aren’t, or they won’t be forever hopefully. You just learned some lessons earlier in life. Pass on wisdom, but don’t be cocky simply because you’ve become cultured.

Say yes to things you never thought you would, or never thought you’d do:

            Let me preface this by saying UNHARMFUL things. Take a weird class, try water polo, have a sword fight in the courtyard with the L.A.R.P.ers, try strange food, do hard community work. Saying yes to things outside of your comfort zone challenges and grows you. Just because you try something doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it, but try for the sake of trying. You might be surprised by what you realize you like. Free Flow Yoga is a strange and closet pleasure I have. I said yes. Why? I don’t know…

Broke takes on a whole new meaning:

            For some of you, Mom and Dad will be sending you a certain amount of money periodically. For others, you will be working and earning your own pay. Regardless, neither is infinite, and I promise you will learn the hard way. I’ve done both now. Nothing is more defeating than when you can’t eat anything besides Ramen, you have to miss that concert, or the bar in no way is a fiscal option. Prepare yourself for the stress and frustration. By the way, after the first time you’ll swear you’ll never let it happen again. I have bad news though, before you learn your lesson it’ll probably happen fifteen more times.

Read:

            Sure you can still read Twilight, The Hunger Games, and Harry Potter but don’t let it be all that’s on your reading list. Even if you don’t understand half the things their writing, read Emerson, Plato, Eliot, and Austen for example. You’ll feel smarter, and I promise you’ll be smarter. Writing is one of the most important skills to have in college. Reading things like the before mentioned will benefit this hard earned skill.  

        

Accept, and then Conquer Failure:

            For the first time in your life, you will really fail. Whether in relationships, school, or life choices doom is looming. Don’t worry you’ll live to see tomorrow, but it’s going to bring a hurt you’ve never encountered. Pick yourself up, dust off, and fix it. Don’t give up, don’t write it off, fix it. Sometimes, if not most times, you won’t be able to do it by yourself. Use a friend, counselor, or pastor but don’t let the pain linger. Pride is probably one of my greatest sins, and this is an especially hard thing for me to deal with. If you don’t understand the benefits of constructive failure, it will tear you up. Don’t spend weeks of your life like I have cursing your failure, just fix it and prevent it from happening again.  

Some days you’ll feel like God has abandoned you:

            So many times I would cry out for God, and not get a response. It would fill me with anger, pain, and despair. I would be lost and ready to give up. I learned a simple truth though: God was always there, he was just letting me grow. When I look back on all those hard times, I can see God’s presence. He was aiding me, and helping me in the important ways, I was just too ignorant, young, and sinful to realize it. Remember the Big Man has your back, just not how you want it often. You’re never abandoned, it just feels like you are.

Get a dog:

            I recommend this at the upperclassmen level. Nothing teaches you more responsibility than a dog. It’s not the same as when you have a dog as a kid. Your parents were always there to pick up the slack with your former pets. For the first time a living creature is completely dependent on you. By the time you’re a junior or senior it’s time to start slowing down and getting serious. Dogs make this happen. Often they force you home late at night for fear of leaving them alone too long. They make you pay for things you really wish you didn’t have to i.e. food, toys, treats, and the vet. When you’re stressed and sad they make you feel better. They make you clean up messes you didn’t make, and this often keeps you from making messes of your own. Not to mention… if you’re a dude, chicks dig your dog. Ask my yorkie… (too bad he gets all the love)

Mom and Dad are always right:

            You’ve spent your whole life arguing with your parents. I promise, you’ll never do it again. Mom and Dad are always right, but I’ll let you figure that out yourself.

            There’s a lot more I could say, but will stop here. Happy birthday Brad and good luck.

  

Jacobs Taxi Service

            He walked down the sidewalk with a defeated and sorry shuffle. The snow was still falling from the sky, and the cool wind continued to blow on my face while cracking my hands. It was early and I was walking my dog before beginning my day, per usual. I looked at him and offered a smile accompanied with a morning greeting. As if my offering was some kind of invitation, my words stopped his slow progress. The young man’s face hid behind his string drawn hoody, and he looked at me as if he had done something wrong. Head buried in his chest, he dejectedly asked for a ride. It was 15 degrees outside, so I of course said yes.

            We hopped in my truck, which of course was a wreck. Normally I would have been embarrassed by the mess I shoveled into the back of the cab, but he after all was the one in need of a ride. It was an awkward environment as I fired up the engine, and I felt uncomfortable in the initial silence. Eventually reason took hold of me, and I realized that I was significantly older, and that I couldn’t rely on him to make any form of conversation. I began an interrogation to lighten the mood. I posed a thousand questions to which I mostly received one word answers, and we drove along the icy road. When we reached his destination, I in passing told him that if there was another cold day to come get me for a ride. This was almost two months ago, and I didn’t know that I had just created the Jacobs Taxi Service.

            Be it rain, shine, warm, cold, night, or day I can count on a knock on my door daily. I initially thought once the snowy weather had passed that our relationship would end. I was wrong however, and Andre has now forced himself into my life. Those first couple weeks presented a young and grateful kid. When he knocked on my door each morning at 7:45 those first couple weeks, he would ask politely for a ride. As time has elapsed, the asking has ceased, and I find him now rather “telling” me he needs a ride. The knocking once a shameful tapping, is now a powerful pound. He used to follow me out to the truck after coming to get me, and now he’s there waiting for me at the passenger door, leading the way down the stairs. See the trend?

            I began getting angry. I felt as if I was being used and underappreciated. I didn’t stop driving him, but my heart was definitely not giving graciously. I attempted to reanalyze my emotions, and tried to make justifications for him and I. The first thing, and an inescapable logic I had to pour over, was my own past experiences. As I have mentioned in posts before, I had seizures in Africa forcing me to return to the states. As a result of this, I had my driving privileges revoked for six months. Over that time period, I relied on countless people to get me around town. Even so, I hope I remained grateful, and now so much time has passed I don’t remember if I did. I do remember the constant guilt I felt though. It was awful. With each text I sent, phone call I made, and conversation of asking that occurred, I was ashamed. Being a very independent person, I felt I was constantly putting people out. I hope that I showed this, and I hope those who helped me (especially my uncle, to whom I am eternally indebt to for countless reasons) know I’m appreciative. I didn’t feel like I was getting this respect, but I began taking a stance of repaying my debts.

            I of course was wrong in my thinking though. My driving this young man should have had nothing to do with appreciation, or paying it forward to massage my ego. What made me realize this came in the simple conversations that would occur. I found Andre asking me questions. Some days he was seeking advice. Other days he was asking me what I did when I was his age. He began venting to me about the troubles in his life. With each ride, God began slapping me in the face.

            God didn’t come down burning bush style and give me a what for, but I felt a voice in my heart. I think it went something like this: “I didn’t do what I did for you seeking a return. I didn’t bring this person into your life to interrupt your days. He doesn’t ask the questions he does because he’s passing the time. Your mission is here in car rides, conversations, smiles, acts, and example.”

            This ended my hardened heart, and I was forced to look back at my life. How many times have I taken advantage of people’s kindness? Why do I feel entitled to reciprocation for acts of kindness? How can you ignore the mission field in front of you / not know it’s there? How dare you feel angry because you have to sporadically leave your home to take a five minute drive. How dare you be so selfish, and yet call yourself selfless. Beat down accomplished. Mindset changed.             

            I now make these drives differently: A selfless heart, a mission minded purpose, and praise to God.       

The Rich Kid Blues: A Stigma about Depression

This post gets a little personal, but I feel called to put myself out there in order to help others understand a difficult concept. Though many do not know, I have struggled with depression for many years. Like thousands of other people in the country, I try to do a terrific job hiding this. For me at least, I hide my feelings due to a misunderstanding about this condition. I’m not sad, I’m depressed. I know for some, when I open up about my feelings, it can be misinterpreted as The Rich Kid Blues. In other words, many people have this interpretation: If you have so many blessings, a great family, awesome friends, talents, a more or less rich life, you don’t have the right to be depressed. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the way I do. After recently coming out of a battle with this feeling, I write this letter not to just friends and family, but for those who have this plaguing feeling and can’t express it.

To the Ones I Love,

             Today I don’t feel like myself. It was difficult for me to get out of bed, and I feel like someone has strapped a boulder to my back. I know yesterday you saw me with a big smile on my face, but I can’t seem to make my lips curl back into a U this morning. I try not to let you see me like this, but maybe I’m afraid you won’t understand.

            No I’m not sad. I don’t have a reason to be really. If I was, I think I could understand this a little bit better. I know you love me and can tell a difference. When you ask me what’s wrong, more times than not I’ll tell you “nothing.” You wonder why I won’t open up, but let me explain. So many times I have tried to tell people I’m depressed, only to have them ask what I could possibly be depressed about. Nothing hurts me worse. I can work out, read, accomplish my chores, finish my homework but nothing seems to make it better. Yet you want to downplay how I’m feeling? I can’t really make you understand.

            I don’t need advice, or a qualification as to why I shouldn’t be feeling this way, I just need a friend. Let me tell you what’s going on if you want, but sometimes I can’t even put it into words. In which case, just tell me you love me, let’s go out to eat, maybe watch a movie. Let me just know you’re there. You may think I know you’re here, and I do, but sometimes a reiteration is all I need. You, after all, are satellites to my unpredictable orbit, just as I am to you.

            Sometimes I try too hard to shake myself back to normal. You’ve probably seen me make big mistakes, drastic changes, and jump into random and crazy things. Sometimes this actually helps; sometimes I only end up hurting my cause worse. Please be there for me as a confidant, let me know I’m making a mistake, or push me to make a constructive change. Even at my worst I trust you entirely to look after me.

            I’m a very happy person. I’m on a mission to put a smile on your face daily. Whether at work, home, or school nothing pleases me more than to hear you laugh. All the while, I’m laughing too. Some days though, I just want to lose that responsibility. Can you pick up the slack for me? If not for me, will you for everybody else’s sake? I know it makes you feel like I don’t love you anymore or maybe that I’m mad at you, but I’m not. I promise. After all, when have you known me to be angry with you and not let you know?

            Don’t worry; I’ve been working on this for years. By now I know my cycles. By now I know how I am. Sometimes when it’s been cloudy and cold I get this way. Sometimes it’s just a combination of random variables. Other times I can’t tell you at all what the cause is. This may take a day, a couple days, or a week or so. I have good news though, I know it will end. I know that eventually I’ll feel better. I’m stable. I’m safe. As I said before I’ve been handling this for years. I worry about other people though. Those people who are new to the game.  I once thought I would never feel better, that life wasn’t beautiful anymore. Luckily I had great parents, parents that pulled me along to let me know what was going on. Parents that told me it wasn’t my fault, and to hang on just a little bit longer. I was a kid, but amazingly I listened. This was before I knew they were always right. I hope you can read their signals, and pull my colleagues through these confusing times.        

            I feel terrific today. I’m back to normal. I woke up with a smile on my face. I made coffee, took a shower, walked the dog. Today I feel like getting caught up: laundry, dishes, homework, read, work, repeat. I feel like nothing ever happened. Why you ask? Like usual, I couldn’t tell you really. I can’t wait to see you, hear you laugh, and pull your leg. Don’t ask me if I’m feeling better. You know I am, just tell me you’re glad to see ME. I’m blessed to have you. I’m happy you’re here.

Sincerely,

Your Confused Friend

A Stick, a Scooter, and Bronwen

           

I walked to the door with a façade of confidence. In my heart I was fearful of what lay in the room I was about to enter, but I had blindly committed. The community leaders of Lamberts Bai had heard about my work with special needs children, and asked if I would assist the special education class at the local primary. I of course agreed, but had no idea what to expect. As I proceeded through the threshold and saw my future students, I knew my life would be changed forever.

            For years Ms. Johnson had been running the class by herself. Though she looked aged in her face, her eyes showed youth. My first impression of both her and the class was a portrait of her washing our students. Most of the kids were poorly taken care of, thus Ms. Johnson was forced to bathe them with a wet towel, brush their teeth, and fix their hair in the mornings. As I walked into my new classroom, she looked up with a smile, and greeted me with hope. I knew instantly I liked her, and as the children swarmed around me, I knew I loved them.

            In all my dealings with special needs children here in the States, I have found loving families supporting and growing them. It was different here. School wasn’t used as a way to better my new students; rather it was a way for their families to be free of them briefly. None of them were diagnosed leaving me to figure out what special condition each had. The class was oversized for only having one teacher, and the tools at our disposal were marginal in comparison to what I was used to. I was overwhelmed from the beginning. I feared that I was not educated sufficiently, and that the task lay before me was impossible.

            Still I forged ahead. Of course, I could merely help Ms. Johnson with the day to day activities, but I wanted to do more. I wanted to grow my students, her, and myself. In many ways I will qualify I wasn’t prepared, but as time elapsed something beautiful was illuminated. It became apparent that I had been training for this situation for years. My work with special needs gymnastics, horseback riding lessons, and other classes melted together to create real change. Ms. Johnson and I created a new daily curriculum. Some of my students had different muscular and mechanical issues. We worked out rehab time to help build muscles and mobility. When dealing with anger issues and responsibility, I created stress ball companions. Each student decorated a face on their stress ball, had to keep their friend on the corner of their desk unless upset, and had to tote it to and fro school. We played games that enhanced their vocabulary, this too benefited my Afrikaans, and over the weeks I saw great improvement.

            Still my heart was broken. My children were happy at school, but life outside was difficult. In other outreaches I participated in, I saw even the smartest, toughest, “normal” kids struggle in this neighborhood. This made some of my students very aggressive with one another due to having to fight and be tough. The toughest thing for the youth in the neighborhood was what destroyed me though, especially in regards to my kids. A select few of my students were abused at home, and they dealt with great emotional issues. This abuse could have come in many forms. Sexual abuse was rampant though, and that’s what terrified me. I will never forget one child in particular who dealt with this, and inadvertently he changed my life.

            Bronwen was a tall, lanky, quiet boy. I never had any sort of trouble with Bronwen. The only time we would find ourselves at an impasse, would be because of another classmate. If I gave Bronwen a task, a toy, or a book he would be completely content. Other children would provoke him though; steal his toys, poke at him, or destroy his block creations. Bronwen would get upset, but unlike the other children he wouldn’t start a fight. He may cry, scream, or duck in a corner, but that was the extent of it. I loved Bronwen, and as I spent day after day at his side I began to connect dots. Bronwen would arrive every morning with a suppressed rage and hurt. He would arrive at school and melt into his desk face down, elbows tucked, and sometimes tears streaming. Some days there would be bruises. Some days there would only be a broken heart. I would proceed to his desk and begin to offer words of encouragement. Although we spoke two separate languages, it always seemed like we could understand one another. After a few minutes, minutes that always felt like hours, he would turn and hug me. He would hold onto me, burry his face in my chest, and rock. Eventually he would release me, and we could begin our day. It wasn’t hard for me to figure out he was abused in some kind of capacity. After our morning sessions though, he would be better, but it wasn’t until recess that all would be completely fine.

            There was a playground at the primary, but our students only played in the courtyard. This was to protect them from the other kids. I would wheel out a box of toys and watch my students play with balls, jump ropes, and puzzles in the most unconventional of ways. However, there was one toy that only Bronwen played with. A piece of plywood was cut into a square, equipped with wheels, and married with a stick capped with a rubber ball. Bronwen would sit knees up on his scooter, start at one end of the courtyard, and then proceed to row to the other side. Back and forth he would go, and I would begin to see a change in him. With each push I could see him letting go.

            I think Bronwen had extreme autism. He seemed to comprehend more than the other children, and yet to many, I’m sure he just appeared ignorant. As I watched him I knew he was having a deep conversation with himself. His morning started horribly at home, and I’m sure he was aware it would be just as bad when he got home, but he focused on the present. For a brief time he knew he was safe. He could sit and let go of the morning, ignore the fears of the future, and be completely wrapped up in each fleeting second. As I said, he would do better after our morning hug, but it wasn’t until his time of reflection that all would be well. As I watched him each day, I realized that he was teaching me more than I could dream of teaching him.

            I consider myself a thinker. I philosophize about the past, worry about the future, and fear about the cause and effects of life. To this day I hold onto grudges and injustices I’ve seen or been dealt. I hold hatred in my heart, and loves long past. I struggle to be utterly present. Washing away yesterday and ignoring the fears of tomorrow is a desperately hard, daily task. Bronwen on the other hand had much more on his plate, but I watched him let it go every afternoon. Now whenever I get stressed, worried, or feel pains from yesterday I think of him. I think of a little boy that endured more than I can imagine, and I pray to be more like him. I struggle still, and probably always will. It is most definitely one of my greatest flaws. However, in retrospect, I think about some of the events over the course of my return home. I don’t think I would have gotten through it, or began to get over it, without meeting that little boy.

            The other day I thought about my kids. I got inexpressibly upset. Part of me would begin to cry, and then it would be countered by a laugh forced by a fond memory. I worried about their safety, health, and happiness. Did I do enough to help them be better? Are they still growing? Do they remember me like I remember them? I was being torn apart, until my fondest memory of all came into mind: A stick, a scooter, and Bronwen. As if he was saying it to me himself, I felt words of advice engulf me.

            “Live in the present. Forget yesterday. Don’t think about tomorrow. You just might miss the beauty of riding on a scooter in the sea breeze of the South African coast.”