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.”            

That's Not Part of My Job Description

           Roughly a year and a half ago, I walked into a restroom in Allen. In this restroom a young man was standing at the sink with soap and paper towels in his hand. I was confused, but proceeded to accomplish my mission, and then walked to the sink he appeared to be guarding. As if in a mad dash, he jumped in front of me, turned the water on, and tried to pour soap in my hands. I told him quickly, sternly, and with the best intentions that I could handle it. I hit the soap dispenser on the wall, and washed my hands. When I was done, again he jumped in front of me, turned off the water, and adamantly pushed a paper towel at me. I laughed and refused, then turned and grabbed a towel from the wall hanger. I asked him where he was from; I noticed he had a strange accent. He responded he was from the Cote D’Ivore, and smiled at me. I told him I appreciated what he was trying to do, but I wasn’t going to make him do what I was more than capable of doing.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized how badly I insulted him. I’ve worked many years in retail, gymnastics, at a horse barn, and now coming up on a year in waiting tables. I’ve done a little bit of everything, and one thing never seems to change. Ignorant people always ask me to do things beyond what I considered my job description. When I was cleaning up a mess I didn’t make, finding random things, giving information, basically catering to needs I thought customers could handle themselves, I would become infuriated. Didn’t they know I had enough other work to do? Didn’t they know they could do it themselves? Am I really so beneath you that you’re going to make me do this?

When I went to Africa, this mindset immediately ceased. We have constantly been complaining about the unemployment rate in the states. Right now we’re sitting on a little over 7%. Let me take a step back and say that’s still not good enough. I have family, friends, and strangers I’ve met out of work and deserving of a job. When I went to South Africa and Mozambique however, unemployment took on a whole different meaning. South Africa’s unemployment rate is almost 25%. Mozambique’s unemployment rate is sitting around 17%. That 17% is actually substantially higher though. Most people in the country don’t record their unemployment. What I’m aiming to imply is that it’s significantly higher than here at home. The result was me seeing a very different work ethic across the ocean. People who worked as grounds keepers, gas pumpers, door openers all worked harder at these simple tasks than most of us would dare to. I was shocked, and would get very upset, to see people ask these workers to do things that I would consider out of their job description. Then I noticed something: these workers were not angry like I would be. They did these tasks faithfully, with smiles, with joy even. They made tasks I would consider beneath me look like they were running a fortune 500 company. Why is simple. They were just thankful for a job.

When I wouldn’t ask for these workers to do things for me, things I didn’t think they should have to do, it was interpreted completely different than we would take it. To them it was an insult. The fact that I would try and do something for myself was inadvertently saying that they were BENEATH me. They took it as if I thought them unworthy of their job, hence the insult to my African friend at the restroom earlier that year. I had to set aside an American guilt, and ask to be catered to. For a long time I struggled with this, and then I realized that we have it all wrong, not them. These people were so excited to have a job, but more than that, it brought them worth. The result was that they were all faithful servants.

I think we get so wrapped up in the American dream that we forget the importance of little tasks. We have been made to believe that in anything we are worth more. Our arrogance of what we think we’re worth, is always keeping us from having a joyous heart in menial jobs. To a college kid like me, I know my degree is coming soon. With this degree I will be able to work a job I like more, make more money, and have the ability to advance. With this foresight in mind, waiting tables feels insulting to my intelligence. I’m almost ready to move into a better position; therefore what I’m doing right now is just to help me scrape by. I belittle my occupation because I believe I deserve better. For some who start a new corporate job at the bottom of the ladder, they sometimes think they deserve more than starting at the ground floor. Someone who has lost a good job might have to work retail again. This often hurts their pride, and maybe their ego to some extent. I think the reason behind this is that we have been taught from a young age that we could be anything. If you want to be a CEO, Astronaut, President, Lawyer, Doctor you can if you work hard enough. In fact I remember a common saying in high school was: work hard so you don’t have to flip burgers. I get disgusted at this now. I think our mindset needs to be geared in a different direction. Work hard to work hard. Work hard to advance is of course a good incentive, we should strive to better ourselves, but we should work hard too because it’s biblical, it’s humble, and we should do all things to their fullest. I consider myself no greater than the burger flipper by word, and yet I would be ashamed of myself to work their job? Not to mention, I love eating the burgers they flip.

Last night I served a table of many children and rambunctious adults. By the time they left, they had spilt a drink and didn’t tell me, their children tore up their menus into thousands of pieces, and somehow their food missed their plates and fell all over the table. The sweet couple stationed next to them kept apologizing to me for their rudeness. They were shocked that these people would leave me such a mess. It made me feel good to have someone show sympathy for me. Then I thought about Africa and the man working in the bathroom. I looked at them as I cleaned, smiled, and said “It’s okay, it’s part of my job description.”              

  

                       

New Year Resolution

            As a new year approaches, like many people I have been searching for a resolution to incorporate into my life. Also like many people, I struggle in finding a resolution that I find attainable, rational, and realistic. While there are many things in my life that I could do better at, fix, and integrate into my day to day experiences, one I have chosen to implement is writing in a blog again. For multiple reasons it’s a tedious experience. It really takes some endurance to make myself sit down, write, edit, post, and repeat week after week. Also, sharing my thoughts can be a little frightening. In the back of my mind, when I do something like this, I immediately upon hitting “post” worry about how others will take what I just published. Even more so, I worry is anyone interested in the first place? These thoughts lead into our first post…

            I can count on one hand the amount of people I know who have set out on a New Year resolution, and followed through. This leads me to the question of why so many failures? I can only derive answers from my own personal shortcomings, and they follow as such.

I think the first issue is that we immediately synonymize New Year with an immediate rebirth. This reminds me of my childhood video gaming. No matter what game I played, one thing was for certain. When failing drastically on a certain level, having no health in my health bar, and wasting a thousand helpful items, I was never concerned. Of course I was always really mad, but never concerned. This was because I knew I would get a restart, that I would start the level a second time the same way I had started it the first time. Call me crazy, but I don’t think January 1^st is a reset button. It is a good threshold to make an effort to make changes, but the truth is you aren’t starting the New Year the same way you started the last. Life has happened, pain has happened, addiction, love, family, work things have definitely occurred over the course of the last year. I know for me I like to leave out the variables and call for clean slate, but when I’m honest with myself, I know it doesn’t work that way. New Year doesn’t mean the bad things just went away. Plan accordingly. You can accomplish anything, but don’t expect to do it cold turkey and easily, because you didn’t get a “reset.”

Short comings and failures… I remember after every sporting event I ever played, I could count on one thing. My father, unless out of town, would pick me up in his red Tahoe. This was never just because I needed a ride; I of course had a mother more than capable of completing such a minor task. The reason was simple, there was always need for a dissection of my performance. Many nights I would hop in the truck on fire. I scored this many touchdowns, I ran this time on my hundred-yard-dash, or I scored x-amount of baskets. On nights like this, my dad fuelled my fire and praised me, but like anyone, not all of my games were perfect. Some nights I would hop into that same truck, there would be an awkward pause, and I would get a “Well Josh. Not your best game.” From there he would first point out what I did right, and then proceed with a list of tweaks for the next game. Some nights it would be hard to swallow, but it was necessary for future successes. Just like being an athlete some days you’re going to knock your resolution out of the park, and other days you’ll fail. Take the good with the bad, and dissect it. If A and B aren’t adding up, make a tweak for tomorrow. These tweaks are all for the greater good of accomplishing your goal. Don’t forget to fuel your fire though either. When you did a good job, let yourself know you did a good job. Positive reinforcement is important too. Even if I scored three touchdowns, I might have fumbled the ball in the same game. There’s no such thing as perfection, and always room for improvement.

Speaking of my Tahoe rides, accountability is crucial. Without any form of accountability, reaching our goals is beyond difficult. As humans we have perfected the art of reasoning ourselves to failure. I know given enough time to analyze doing something I don’t want to, I can talk myself out of it EASILY. When debating whether I’m going to complete a difficult task, I can always make myself get out of it by “rationalizing.” Sometimes I tell myself its ok not to follow through because I have so much to do, I’m not feeling well, I’m tired, etc. This is where it’s crucial to have an accountability partner. Sometimes we need a loving hand to spur us forward. Sometimes we need a cattle prod. Find someone who knows you and can push you accordingly. It’s also important for you to, again, have someone to dissect your progress. You’re going through a hard enough experience as is. You’ll need to have a loving hand some days, and others a swift kick.

If not most important is the spiritual aspect. Philippians 4:13 states that “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” Sounds awesome right? It totally is, but sinful nature prevents us from putting trust in / investing in this verse. For me it’s not that I don’t believe this, rather it’s that I want to ignore it. While I know with God’s assistance I can accomplish anything, my sinful desire is to not complete what I lie about wanting to complete. This prevents me from leaning on Him who gives me strength wholly. In order to apply God in our resolution, we have to first accept humility and reflect on a hard fact. A lot of the reason we’re struggling at fulfilling our resolution, is that in our hearts we don’t really want to accomplish it. We don’t want to work out more, eat right, set our phones down, or spend more time with family. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we have to own up to the truth behind why it’s so mentally, physically, and spiritually taxing: we love our vices! I know this year, with grand plans to do so much to better myself, I will have to TRULY lean on God. Not just say it, but do it. Obviously easier said than done, but again Philippians 4:13.     

So here’s to 2014! Best of luck to you all, and hopefully you found this remotely helpful. #yolo2014