Tag Archives: prayer

Harvey Millican Is a Complete Idiot: Part II

Posted on March 24, 2019 | 2 comments

I am sure the vast majority of men (indeed of all humanity) and particularly of Catholic men do not recognize the inherent sinfulness of laziness. St. Don Bosco is famous for chiding the young men in his care to remain physically active. “Laziness teaches us all kinds of vices,” the great patron of youth would say. Of course, he would say it in Italian but you get the point. As a further warning, laziness is enshrined as a capital sin under its more severe form called “sloth”. Also, for those in the know and as Fulton Sheen would attest, it’s pronounced /slōth/. With a short “o” we’re talking about the lazy, three-toed tree-hugger from Brazil.

Do Something, Anything, but Avoid Being Idle

Going back to that theme of doing hard things I had made it my quest to lift hard and heavy and often, to run, jump, and planche forward so that I could be better. I knew that laziness had no part in this plan and that it would, in fact, sink any effort to be more manly (in a truly Christian sense). I became cognizant of all the times I had given up time I could have been doing hard things in order to do no things. And I determined to do more of the former and less of the latter. Besides, I thought, being more active would set a better example for my ten year-old son who’s been exhibiting his share of wanting to “do nothing” lately. Hey, I was a ten year-old boy once. I get it. Doing hard things is, well, hard. But the payoff is huge – huge gains physically and eternal life ultimately.

Over the past year I started to notice myself getting physically stronger. This means nothing except that I would now have a benchmark so I would know I was progressing and progress is good. Stagnation is a benchmark of laziness. I noticed as well that my prayer life was improving. As I forced myself out of bed early simply to deny myself sleep I would use the time to pray. I prayed as I poured my coffee. “Dear God, get this caffeine into me NOW! Amen.” I prayed as I struggled not to get back into bed. “Dear God, the floorboards are so cold. WHY?! Amen.” I prayed as I got into the shower which, thanks to Exodus 90 is a cold shower. “Dear God, Take me swiftly into thine eternal light! Amen.” On that last point I often wondered as to the propriety of praying in the shower. I reasoned, of course (of course), that the Good Lord created me naked so He probably wouldn’t be too embarrassed. But boy was that water cold.

I came to embrace the sacrifices because I wasn’t merely giving things up – time, sleep, my body to the pain – but I was gaining. I gained time with Our Lord in prayer. I gained satisfaction in improving myself and setting a better example. I gained a few lbs. of muscle which was cool. Regarding that benchmark I mentioned, I noticed I was lifting heavier weights. When I started I struggled to do biceps curls with 25 lb. dumbbells. Now I start a “rack run” with 55’s. I feel good. But it must always be seen in context. I drop the weights and thank God I can do these things. I drop the weights and I ask God to strengthen me to protect my children. I drop the weights and realize my big foot was just a bit too far in front of my body. 55 lbs. of iron on a big toe really, really hurts.

Shedding one’s laziness is a lifelong endeavor, at least for me. A year into this mindset and I still fight the temptation, when offered a choice of doing something active or doing something sedentary, to force myself toward the active. Example: I come home from a long day of work (at my first of two full-time jobs) and, having picked up the kids from school, the question is posed “Daddy, will you go on a bike ride with us?” or “Daddy, will you do gymnastics with us?” or “Daddy, will you do flips on the trampoline with us?” What the children are actually asking is “Daddy, will you run alongside while we ride our bikes for three blocks until we get tired and make you carry the bikes and us back home?” or “Daddy, will you move furniture in the living room to put down the mat and do handstands for our entertainment?” or “Daddy, will you bounce on the trampoline while we sit in the middle of it and let your weight propel us high in the air?” The answers are yes, yes, and yes. The reward for this sacrifice of giving up watching the evening news is the joy of spending time with two awesome people who seem to think I’m Joe Weider.

A COMPLETE Idiot

So let’s talk about my progress with calisthenics. You didn’t think I mentioned the gymnastics mat and the trampoline for nothing, did you? About three weeks ago I set out trying the basic wall-assisted handstand. Like my experience with pull-ups about a year ago I knew that this would take a bit of time until it “clicked”. In other words, I had to figure it out by just throwing myself into a flip against the wall until I got closer and closer to actually doing it. When it clicked it would be a recognition in my body’s muscle memory and then I wouldn’t be able to “un-do” it. Think of toddlers learning to walk. They struggle but they don’t give up because it’s hard. And then one day they shed the last bits of their fear – in this case fear of not holding onto anything – and they take that step and Shazam! They don’t seem to ever forget how to walk after that. When I figured out pull-ups it was about figuring out which muscles to activate. And then I got better and better. Pushing past my fear of falling on my head I started tumbling headlong on the mat toward the wall in my living room. What stunned even me was just how quickly I “got it”. Within a week I was able to hold a handstand against the wall for 30 seconds. I’ve been working at it for about fifteen minutes daily the past two weeks now and starting to work in something that resembles a handstand push-up. And as for that trampoline? Here’s where you learn why I called myself out as a complete idiot in the title. Remember Aristotle’s definition of virtue and how it stands in the middle? Sometimes in life we gain so much confidence that we exceed the virtue and head right back into the realm of extreme vice (or in my case stupidity). Two nights ago, with my wife still out of town (she was winding down a week-long business trip) I picked the kids up from school and play practice. I was so enjoying the time I had been given with them that I took them for pizza (meatless, it was a Friday after all). We came home and were joined by my college-aged nephew who goes to school nearby. And then came the shouts of “Daddy! Bounce us on the trampoline!” One of these days I’ll get them to bounce me.

Standing on the springy blue “floor” of the trampoline I heard all kinds of things. I heard laughter. That’s beautiful. I heard music. I had brought a bluetooth speaker into the yard so we could have a dance party. I heard one of the kids implore me “Daddy, do a flip!” On a trampoline I’ve done these flips a hundred times.

But this time was different.

I thought about it. Let’s tie it all together. 1) Sacrifice yourself for the kids. 2) Do hard things and be a man. 3) Avoid laziness like the plague. 4) Make it a prayer.

“God, help me amuse me children and gain strength. Amen.”

I bounced. I bounced higher. I bounced even higher. Then I launched and lurched forward. But something was different. Normally there are only three of us on this thing. Today my nephew was on it too. I don’t know if I was distracted or simply not paying attention. I flipped and did not roll forward enough. I landed on my head. I heard the most ghastly snap like when a person cracks his knuckles. And then I lay motionless for 45 seconds while the kids and my nephew laughed thinking the old man was playing a prank. Finally my nephew was able to hear my gasps. “Help… Me… I… Can’t… Breath…” It hurt like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He cleared the kids out and helped me roll off the trampoline. I could stand and walk, though with much pain, so I knew I wasn’t paralyzed. I’ll spare you the details of the rest of the evening except to say that I took a painkiller left over from my last surgery and rested as comfortably as I could. The ER on a Friday night would not have been able to do anything for me.

The next day I finally decided to go to an urgent care center that only handles orthopedic injuries. I was still in tremendous pain. Because of the previous spinal fusions in my lower back I wanted to insure I hadn’t done anything too damaging. A X-ray revealed a pretty nasty fracture of a vertebra in my mid-back. Turns out the lumbar fusions prevented me from rolling out of that flip the right way, hence something had to give. And there’s nothing they can do for me other than painkillers and rest.

There you have it, kids. Daddy sacrificed his body for your entertainment.

I literally broke my back (albeit this time unintentionally). And believe me, God has given me the grace as a father to know just how to use this bit of information to guilt you guys into a virtuous life. “Son, you won’t take out the trash? I guess I’ll do it… Owwwwww! No, don’t worry, my boy, it doesn’t hurt that bad. It’s just a minor – ouch – inconvenience. Not like I didn’t do that back-breaking flip for you…”

But did I hit the goals? I already mentioned 1) having sacrificed my body. 2) A 41 year-old man with titanium hardware in his spine doing a flip on a trampoline counts as “hard”, so, check on that one. 3) I didn’t say no when they asked me to play with them so I’m good on the “avoid laziness” thing. And I even said the following: 4) “Jesus, are ya’ comin’ for me?” as I lay immobile on the trampoline so, prayer, done.

Not a radiologist? I circled the break.

Sacrifice, Lent, the Passion, and True Joy

When I was growing up I was always captivated by the mosaic of the second station of the cross in our parish church in New Jersey. Jesus accepts His cross. In the tiled image Our Lord is depicted with arms outstretched and an expression of joy as the cross is presented to Him. He looks like a young man who has just encountered the woman he’ll marry and he recognizes the joy of love at first sight or like a parent, separated from a child at birth who is finally meeting that child.

This image of joyfully embracing the cross is the finally piece of the puzzle. Yes, I take physical pleasure in lifting weights and in laughing with my kids and in doing hard things and seeing hard gains. I thought of that image and began to ask God, naked in my cold, morning shower, to help me this Lent. “Father, if You will it, I can be made whole. I am a sinful man and Your Son sacrificed Himself for my salvation. I don’t fully understand what I’m asking but please, in Your mercy, let me suffer with Him.”

On this Lenten Friday, missing my wife, rejoicing in my genetic minions who grow more and more like their old man each day, grateful for all He’s allowed me to accomplish, striving for perfection, hoping in His grace… On this day He broke me. But He broke me because He loves me and He gives me a chance to feel that death I must undergo in order to rise to new life. I won’t overdramatize it; but this hurts. I will now have to sacrifice working out because I simply can’t if I want to heal. I’ll have to devote that time to even more prayer and meditation. I might lose those precious gains of which I was so proud and thus exhibit only three abs instead of six at the beach this summer and then I’d have to embrace humility. And it HURTS.

But I’m sure Our Lord’s back was broken under the weight of that cross and he received it with a smile.

Amen.

For those wondering what any of the things I’ve been trying should ACTUALLY look like…

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Posted in Catholic Blog, dad blog, Dad Stuff, Faith/Theology/Spirituality, Family, Fitness, health, Kids, Parenting, Prayer, weightlifting

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Harvey Millican Is a Complete Idiot: Part I

Posted on March 24, 2019 | 1 comment

There, I’ve said it. And you can take that to the bank.

Setting the Goals

Harvey Millican is also a dad who adores his kids. Allow me if you will to drift for a moment to a place in the not-too-distant past. I was in my late 20’s (41 now) when I really began to give up on the hope of ever meeting a woman who shared my faith, got my sense of humor, and was stunningly beautiful. While I figured there were still a few solid Catholic women out there who hadn’t joined the Nashville Dominicans and I was pretty sure there might be a handful of women who would find my absurdist rantings mildly amusing I was not sure that any of the beautiful women of the world would be willing to offer an act of supreme condescension and go out with me.

You see, I wanted a family. I had, just a few years earlier, been studying for the priesthood and had been prepared to make the sacrifice of giving up family life. When I left the seminary I was filled with the fleeting thought that perhaps God’s plan for me was now to follow in the example set by my wonderful parents and raise a family of my own. But whom would I marry; or rather, who would ever marry me? See above paragraph for the genesis of this conundrum. It’s a vicious cycle.

Jacked St. Joseph. Model for MEN, model for ME.

In my final act of desperation I turned in prayer to the patron of impossible causes – St. Rita of Cascia. I began a novena at her shrine in Philadelphia. Nine days later I met a woman with strong faith, a questionable sense of humor, and poor eyesight. Bingo! We got married at that shrine in due time and within the first two and a half years of our married life God had blessed us with a son and a daughter. I have no idea what happened after that. We promised to be open to children and we always have been. But I guess God had other plans for us. We started taking road trips with the kids. I started documenting these trips and a blog was born.

A few years later the ticking time bomb that is my spine exploded and life sort of came to a grinding halt for a bit. I had a second lumbar fusion. I got depressed for a while thinking of how I wasn’t being the kind of dad I wanted to be to my kids. I’ve never been athletic. I’ve never been really strong, agile, quick. Having kids highlighted these deficiencies. I really felt it the first time my kids wanted me to play Twister, ride bikes, and squat 450. They’re pretty demanding kids. But after a few years of doing nothing about it and gaining weight and starting to feel sorry for myself and remorseful for my wife who had to look at me every day I decided to do something. Anything at all.

Figuring It Out

I tried running like a co-worker was doing. He was pretty jacked. That was a disaster. Apparently “You can’t run that extra mile if you’re puffing away on those cigarettes.” I had to choose. I chose tar and nicotine.

I tried Greco-Roman wrestling like my older brothers had done in high school. They were pretty not-jacked but strong as oxen and impressive. Apparently this should not be done with strangers in the produce aisle at Kroger. Also, those singlets are obscene.

I tried that little paddleball thing you buy at the dollar store like my mom. She’s got phenomenal eye-hand coordination. Thanks to genetics, I was good at it but burned negative calories.

In fact I tried anything and everything until I settled on some advice I found from a most reliable source – a meme. Under a picture of a typical 98 lb. weakling listening to Charles Atlas was a caption that read “What’s that? You want to get huge? Pick up a bunch of heavy stuff, put it down, repeat.”

Identifying with the dork in that cartoon I determined that weightlifting would be my thing.

Quests and New Quests

And for the past 14 months I have been lifting weights. It wasn’t until I heard a sermon from an amazing priest, though, that I realized this needed to be a spiritual pursuit in order to be effective. In other words, I should not do this for me alone. I should do this for me AND for my wife and kids. Lifting weights isn’t about gettin’ swole so you can preen in front of a mirror (although that’s kinda’ cool). Lifting weights should be about God’s purpose for manliness and fatherhood. I should do this specifically because it’s hard. Doing hard things is the hallmark of true manliness. And we do hard things to discipline our bodies so we can discipline our souls. And we discipline our bodies and souls so we can give away our lives without thinking to our wives and children; so that the hardest thing in life to do – dying for the sake of another – comes freely, quickly, and with total love.

With that in mind, weightlifting became both a quest and a joy. I’ll admit, it’s fun. I really enjoy it in the same way I hated running. No lungs exploded. I could wear fairly comfortable clothes. I started to get swole. Heh. That last part was particularly gratifying. Again, see above paragraph about why any woman in her sober mind would have given me a second glance. And I say that only half in jest but I’ve certainly never thought very highly of myself and even there more from a desire to tamp down pride through a humility that is sometimes self-effacing but very often false.

Along the way as I was putting on muscle and burning off fat I began to look for more “difficult” things to do. Remember, doing the hard things because they are hard is good for us guys. I had to remind myself not to get too into this. There were nights I could have skipped the gym to spend more time with the family but I always thought I was doing this for them. As for those “gentle” reminders of which I spoke, believe me, on the occasions where I’d be super proud of my accomplishments and post a video or two of me knocking out a dozen pull ups in the gym or attempting some other such thing that I simply couldn’t do yesterday (and that 99.9% of men half my age can’t do today) I’d always get the one or two snide comments insinuating that it was “no big deal” or that the commenter “was able to do three times that many and with better form” and I’d find myself knocked down a few pegs. and it was all good.

But those other things? Well… I picked up a jump rope one day. Not knowing what this strange device was and unable to find a pair of shoes large enough to lace with it, I hit it against a rock. Then I looked up a Youtube clip and discovered a cool trick. Apparently you can swing this thing over your head and jump over it. I got really good at doing that.

I busted out my old trusty kettlebell. Remember that thing? Developed by the Pontifical Swiss Guard in the 17th century to punish heretics, the kettlebell is also good for building strong bodies. Again, thanks to Youtube (and in this case Instagram) I began to incorporate explosive movements into my workouts. I got really good at that as well.

And finally I discovered the thing I just spent 1,069 words to get to. Sorry for that. While scrolling through both Youtube and Instagram I began to notice a whole lot of posts about people doing calisthenics. OK, my first thought on hearing that word was of Jane Fonda in a ridiculously high cut leotard prancing about to Let’s Get Physical. Patently, calisthenics is not that. Not exactly. Calisthenics has to do with using bodyweight movements to build strength, endurance, you know, all that good stuff I was looking for. Remember, the whole point was to do hard things so I could be a better man and in so doing be the best dad I can be to the two saints-in-training God gave me. Hell, He only gave me two of them. He must have felt I needed the time to work on getting this right. Ultimately, though, what calisthenics looks like is not Jane Fonda but badass dudes who are certainly shredded but not in any kind of “Sammy Sosa on roids” way, doing incredibly difficult-looking things. The first time I saw a series of posts on Youtube of one of these guys doing handstand push-ups and planches I was sold. Sure, I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in hell of me actually doing these things what with my twice-fused lower spine; but if I’ve learned nothing over the past few years it’s that God’s grace is truly sufficient and for everything else there’s Percocet. So I prayed like the Dickens and had my pills at the ready.

“Father in heaven, I thank you for sharing Your gift of paternity with me, your humble servant. In St. Joseph, you have given me an example of a truly good man who cared for his family, for Your Incarnate Son and His Immaculate Mother. I pray through his intercession for a clean heart, a pure mind, and a chaste body. I ask for the gift of great physical strength that I might protect and provide for my family. Hitting the Powerball would also be nice. Amen.”

My daughter has a gymnastics mat and we have an 18′ diameter trampoline in the yard. I started to think I could tackle this. I watched dozens of videos on the topic. I set a few goals. While continuing to “lift heavy stuff” in the gym and “jump over the flying rope” I would attempt first to master a wall-assisted handstand. After that I would try the same but add in push-ups to the handstand. Then I’d try freestanding handstands. I didn’t know if any of this was remotely possible and I may have been consuming a glass of box wine when I dreamed this up. Lastly, I would try to nail a backflip by year’s end. I reached out to an old friend who informed me that I “probably know more about fitness now than he does” and the he “wouldn’t be much help”. He then said he had to wash his hair or something and take his daughter’s rabbit for a walk. I reached out to a newer friend who’s been part of my Exodus 90 prayer group. This guy was, of late, a gym teacher who specializes in calisthenics and in particular handstands. When asked if he could help me figure out the basic handstand his words to me were “No.” I think he might come round.

See, I even kept my shirt tucked in (and on).

Where on earth is all of this going and how does it involve the Passion of Christ? I never said it did.

But it does.

You’ll have to wait for part II.

*Update: You can now read Part II by clicking here.

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Posted in Catholic Blog, dad blog, Dad Stuff, Faith/Theology/Spirituality, Family, Fitness, health, Kids, marriage, Parenting, Prayer, weightlifting

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Crushed

Posted on February 15, 2019 | 3 comments

So here’s the story about that picture I posted earlier this week.

Two weeks ago at this very hour yours truly was driving around the DFW Metroplex. During the day I am a teacher and school administrator. At night, however, I still maintain my other job as a medical courier. I don’t usually have Friday jobs, it’s just a slow night of the week. But this particular Friday night I got called to pick up a sample at a lab in north Dallas. On my way out to the airport I decided to make use of the time to pray.

Traveling south on the President George Bush Turnpike (yes, they use the full name as it was constructed during the gubernatorial administration of his son) I drove along, praying my rosary. I’m a pretty safe driver – never been in anything more than a minor fender-bender. I was praying for a few specific things. You see my car, a 2006 Accord, was starting to show its age and I had begun to think it was time to move on. “Blessed Mother,” I said summoning all best Catholic school boy piety I could muster. It never goes away. “Blessed Mother, I could really use a new car.” Trust me, friends, Mary is the Queen of Heaven and Earth. There is nothing she can’t obtain for us from her Son. Of this I am certain. But there’s also no guaranteeing how she’s going to go about doing that.

I was just about to toss in the part about the F-150 and in my mind I was thinking about color options (hint: a car should only ever be black or silver, possibly navy) when I looked up into my rear view mirror and saw a smaller, older pick up truck barreling toward me.

“Not like that!” I shouted as I frantically looked around to the two outside lanes. It was rush hour traffic, though, and there was nowhere to move. I braced for impact and in a second it was all over. The driver of the pickup wasn’t paying attention, caught himself at the last minute, and hit his breaks. He slammed into the back of my car and shoved me into the car in front of me. No airbags deployed so the impact speed must have been low enough. The three of us moved over to the shoulder and then waited for the police to show up.

The other two drivers barely had a nick on their cars. My Accord? Let’s just say it resembled an accordion. Hey, that’s kind of clever…

Anyway, I had the car towed home where a few days later an inspector came out to officially declare it a total loss. It’s obnoxious that someone else screwed up and I’m out a car but that’s life.

Today the second of two insurance checks arrived. I’ve been doing my research. Truthfully that F-150 isn’t totally out of the question, albeit a model that might be 3-4 years old with a few miles on it but that’s cool. I’ve learned all about the fun and exciting world of auto insurance as well. And to be honest, my agent, Steve Martinez with Safeco (props to him) was thoroughly professional and got the process rolling with good speed. The pickup driver admitted fault so that helped. But it still stinks.

That 13 year old car with 200K of my best driving miles on it was a sure bet for me. I’m sure it would have gone another 100,000 miles too. Instead I’m holding two checks for a minimal amount and a vision of a larger, newer vehicle dancing around my head.

And that prayer to the Infant of Prague I posted about earlier? Yep, that’s one of the intentions. I hear that devotion is particularly powerful. Nonetheless, I looked at that car on the shoulder of the highway two weeks ago and thought of something. In my own lifetime, in the recent past, a wreck like that would have taken someone out. Everyone had a seatbelt on and somehow we all walked away without scratches or injury.

For the possibility of landing in my dream car
For the Blessed Mother’s humor
For the grace of walking away from a serious accident and appreciating all the good things I have; coming home to my wife and kids and not heading to an ICU… For these I am grateful.

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Posted in Disasters, Lone Star Life, Prayer

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A Feast for Writers

Posted on February 1, 2019 | Leave a comment

As many of you know I am a writer. I say this with no pride. There is nothing that I did to merit the gift of being able to string words together. My parents and teachers throughout my life helped me hone the skill. More importantly, God gave me this gift. And it is a gift. He gave me the ability to grasp at a large vocabulary (thank you, English language) and rapidly pull together consequential turns-of-phrase with grammatical aplomb and all that jazz.

I first realized I had this gift when I was a boy of about 7. I was always interested in the news, in telling stories. Could explain why I’ve enjoyed some success as a teacher. My dad read a few different newspapers every day. Notable among these were the Newark Star Ledger (before it was a complete leftist rag not fit to line a bird cage) and the paper he called “the best written English language newspaper in the world” – the Wall Street Journal. Side note: I remember well the great satisfaction he got when the Journal published one of his letters once. I guess due to the influence of dear old Dad I decided one day that I would put together a broadsheet, a newspaper of my own.

I decided to copy what I had seen and so I began with a screaming headline. “Headless Man in Topless Bar”. Oh wait, that was an actual headline in the New York Post around the same time. Something to do with a mafia decapitation at a “gentleman’s club”. No, I think mine was more family-friendly. “Bridget A Jerk”. Bridget is my youngest sister. As I recall she had hidden my roller skates on me and I was none too pleased. The second column blared “Mom Burns Dinner – Distracted by Phone Call”. In italics underneath: “Family Safe from Near – Fatality, Pizza Ordered”.

This little gazette had everything right down to a sports section on the last page. The only problem is that I didn’t follow sports that well. I believe I had the New Jersey Devils defeating the New Jersey Nets 105-13. Not bad considering the Devils play hockey and the Nets are a basketball franchise. Weather? I drew a picture of the sun and slapped a number under it with the word “Fair”. Seemed like the thing to do even if that number was 25. I think my favorite part was the obituaries. Dad was a fan of the “Irish sporting pages” as he called them. I may have literally copied an actual obit or two from the Star Ledger into my paper since I didn’t know anyone who had recently died. Imagine the contrast between the “Kids Alright, Pizza for Everyone” coverage on page 1 and page 2 where we read about Diane Distefano of Nutley who died peacefully surrounded by her husband and stepchildren. She was to be laid out at Biondi’s Funeral Home in Bloomfield with a visitation from 2-4 and 7-9 and a mass of Christian Burial at Holy Family the following morning. Donations could be sent to “Reading is Fundamental” because, you know, she was a 1st grade teacher or something.

I was quite proud of my paper. I got great satisfaction writing it all down, formatting it, and illustrating the stories. The one copy I printed was a big hit; but not for the reason I had hoped. It seemed everyone got a big chuckle out of the absurdity of the thing.

And that’s when I realized I could make people laugh if I just placed the right words in the right order and sometimes played dumb a little. I think I got that from my mom. She’s much smarter than she ever lets on.

In high school I began writing more. I had to. I was homeschooled and as if to prove our academic worth to the outside world our assignments were heavy on writing. I guess just like the guy who hangs around the gym with his buddies will eventually start lifting weights and then probably get good at it (terrible analogy, I know); the guy who writes volumes by necessity will eventually take a liking to it and probably get really good at it too. In college, the fun continued as I would write humorous study guides for my friends where I’d drop inane commentary and references. “Greek philo’s… 1) Socrates who’s pupil was 2) Plato (wrote Trial and Death of Socrates) who’s pupil was 3) Ari. who’s pupil was Alexander the Gr. Many theorize th/Ari killed Alex because he had become too good lkng. Ari was insanely jealous.”

Sometimes. I know, my writing has caused people to cry and not always in a good way. Fortunately those times have been few and far between. But for those instances where I went too far and used the gift He gave me as a weapon I am sorry. As I said a month ago: it’s a new year and this is a new blog.

I do take satisfaction in it. It’s like the pride a man gets when he’s mowed his lawn. I go back and read and re-read my posts. I’m half expecting them to have grown and matured.

The boy in his “youth” playing with my iPad

Speaking of maturing, tonight I got the shock of my life. I started writing this blog when he was an infant. My hope was to chronicle his life (and later my daughter’s) for them. I wanted to give them stories to read as they got older so they would know how loved they are and all the fun we had. He’s ten now and already a young man in every sense. I suspect his voice will drop and he’ll be shaving before I blink. I’m not ready for that (or the accompanying “talk” we’ll have to have). This world is a lot more dangerous than when I was his age. But he knows I write this blog and he’s caught on that I do it for him. He caught me going through the archives the other day and asked me to read him a post or two. Tonight as he was getting ready for bed he said “Daddy, will you read me some of your stories?” I replied “Why, son? You know the plot.” Then he said “I don’t know, Dad, I just love the way you tell a story. They’re funny and you write so well.”

There you have it. Mission accomplished, I’d say. Tonight I read to him a tale of the time his goldfish died and I had to replace it before he caught on. He was five and, oh, the TWO replacement fish were accidentally killed by my wife. He howled with laughter and then he said to me “Your a good dad.” Well son, it’s easy for me. You’re a very good young man.”

Now keep livin’ that crazy life so I can keep documenting it. He wants me to put the archive in a book. Smart boy.

Gifts from God – be they talents or sons… for these blessings I am most grateful and I pray you discover your gifts as well.

*I started writing this post on the feast of St. Francis de Sales, patron saint of writers. If you ever run into a block, ask for his help.

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Posted in Catholic Blog, Dad Stuff, Faith/Theology/Spirituality, Family, Humor, Parenting, Writing & Blogging

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Punking Your Kids: How a Chrome Extension and the Eucharist are Helping Me “Dad”

Posted on January 28, 2019 | Leave a comment

I’ll admit that technology sometimes serves me well as a “babysitter”.

I hate that.

I work two jobs. My wife works the equivalent of about thirty – albeit from home but that sometimes makes it harder; with she and the kids in the same physical space. Typical scenario: I pick up the kids from school, bring them home, get them a snack and started on any homework. Wife is working in her office. I get called for my next job and have to run out the door. Wife is on a conference call. Kids somehow end up using my laptop, her phone, or some jerry-rigged amalgamation of tin cans and a LAN cord and the next thing you know they’re on Youtube.

Don’t get me wrong, Youtube is kind of a go-to for me these days. We cut the cord. For those of you not in the know, that means we have no life cable TV. But truthfully, I’m not dissatisfied with what I have to watch on Youtube. And the Youtube seems to know me well, too. For instance in my suggested watch list is a series about conspiracy theories (heavy on the JFK stuff), talks by Fr. Chad Ripperger (an exorcist), and anything having to do with flying, landing, or even the crashing of airplanes. Don’t judge.

For my son it’s usually Super Mario Bros. “walkthroughs” where some loser gamer literally plays a Mario game for hours explaining how he’s making it through those levels. For my daughter it is a brain damaged twit named Wengie. Wengie hurts my brain. Wengie lowers my IQ. I tell my daughter this. Despite my hatred of her tweeny-pop saccharine nonsense and penchant for unicorns, glitter, slime, and glitter-slime unicorns I’ve still memorized the lyrics, music, and dance steps for her hit song Icing on the Cake and I sing the same to my little girl when I wake her up for school.

The reality is they really aren’t on these “devices” for too long of a stretch and my wife and I do keep pretty good eyes on what they’re seeing. But here’s the problem. Even the best eagle-eyed parents cannot monitor this stuff completely. My first clue was when my son dropped something he had heard on a Youtube video. The vile, hateful, vulgarity coming out of his innocent mouth made me cringe.

“Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.”

I could take it no more.

I had a conversation with a friend the other night. We’re part of a Catholic men’s group called Exodus 90. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been posting sporadically of late. Go look it up. Guys, if you’re looking for a kick in the rear, give this a shot. It’s like “Hey Catholic man, we know you love Lent… But wait, there’s more!” One of the goals is to break the things to which we are enslaved in life and for many of us the internet in all its nasty forms is one of those taskmasters. Ergo, we try to stay off EVERYTHING that is deemed non-essential or work-related. This friend mentioned how he had installed a Chrome extension to block his favorite sites. No, nothing to do with what you’re thinking. At least I hope not but even so, all the better for him to break that insanity. No, we’re talking things like Facebook, the Drudge Report, and cagneyandlaceyfanfic.com. I don’t judge. Also, the extension is capable of redirecting the browser to a different site…

So this morning I got this brilliant idea and I installed the extension on my laptop and then later on the other laptop we have. It’s slower but that’s a total first world problem.

This afternoon my lovely little girl plopped herself down on my bed with my Macbook, flipped open the lid, and looked around. She gave me a knowing glance as if to say “Something’s up here, Dad… You’re too calm given the fact I just absconded with your laptop and didn’t even ask.” I gave her a look as if to say “Just you wait, genetic minion, just you wait…”

I heard the tapping of little fingers.

And then I heard:

“ARGHHHHHHH! Daddy what did you do?!”

How’d she know it wasn’t a glitch?

I had long since made myself scarce by ducking into my closet for fear I’d laugh and ruin the whole thing. Stepping out I heard her, now in the kitchen, yelling to her brother:

“Daddy blocked Youtube!!! When I tried to watch Wengie I got sent to a livestream of Adoration at some monastery in England!”

That’s right, kiddos, I’d drop to my knees and start humming the Tantum Ergo if I were you.

Ah, technology and Jesus… For moments where Our Eucharistic King (even on livecam) makes an appearance in my day and helps me keep my children safe from predatory nonsense, I am very grateful.

O Salutaris Hostia… Protect my kids from low IQ tarts.

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Baptism Day!

Posted on January 15, 2019 | 2 comments

41 years ago today yours truly was baptized. For historical reference, my twin sister and I were about six weeks old. The Dallas Cowboys defeated the Denver Broncos 27-10 later that day in Super Bowl XII. Jimmy carter was President. Paul VI was pope. And Baby Come Back by Player had just knocked How Deep Is Your Love by the Bee Gee’s our of the number 1 spot on the charts.

Couldn’t find one of my own baptism so I let my lookalike daughter stand in.

My sister and brother served as my godparents while another pair of siblings were my sister’s godparents. We were baptized in a gymnasium as the parish had not yet constructed a proper church building. The parish has since been closed by that diocese.

But I’m still here!

And I’m celebrating.

My daughter wants to get in in the InstantPot action while my son just wants a fun dessert. These both sound fine. But the best celebration for me will be picking up my wife from the airport later tonight. Did I mention I kind of miss her a little?

Triple prayers for everyone today!

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I Resolved to be Grateful: A Look at My 2018

Posted on January 3, 2019 | 3 comments

When I left off I had promised to tell you about what I achieved in 2018. I think it’s important to take stock of one’s life from time to time. It is important not simply that we look at our accomplishments but also at our failures. Since I do the latter every time I prepare to step into a confessional and I am therefore well aware of my failures (as a man, a husband, a father) I want to share with you some of my accomplishments from the past year.

Starting with Uncertainty and Fear

The year started off with great uncertainty and trepidation. I had just walked away (for the first time in my life) from a job. And this wasn’t just any job. It was the job I had been hoping for for a long time. In 2017 I had achieved one of my goals and been hired as a Catholic school administrator. I was a vice principal before I turned 40. I know that doesn’t seem like much to many people but to me it was the closest thing to recognition that I was actually good at what I do as I will come. This is how I saw it. I was a teacher for over a decade. In that time I started at one obscenely low salary and never really saw a measurable pay raise. I didn’t get a yearly bonus. I didn’t get ownership in a company. No stock options, nothing. In fact, I rarely even heard a word about my job performance. The usual plaudits of “Wow, we couldn’t function without your skill” or “Your leadership is vital to our organization” were things I never heard. At first this did not bother me but as I got older and noticed that I was more or less alone among my friends in this regard I came to regret my career choice. In fact, the only people who ever commented to me on my job performance were, ironically, the only one’s who really counted – the kids. And to those of you who do not know what it’s like to hear a 16 year-old tell you how much you mean to him or to have another tell you that her life is better because of her favorite teacher; I am sorry for your loss. Finer, more humbling words have never been spoken to a man like me.

But I still wanted the bonus. There was one “award” that came with a plaque and a check that a local Catholic philanthropy organization would hand out four or five times a year. It seems that every other teacher at the school got it except me – even newbies. And so I was almost eager to move on to a pasture where I thought the grass would be greener. “Surely, they will appreciate me,” I thought. And yet that job was not at all what I expected. And after six months I had to move on. Taking a total leap of faith I walked away.

I prayed to God that I wouldn’t have a significant gap in my employment. He came to the rescue with the most unexpected answer. A friend had a neighbor who ran a medical courier business. I knew nothing about the world of shipments and logistics and, although I’ve always played a doctor on TV, I didn’t even know what I’d be handling on a daily basis. I started January 2nd. God is incredibly gracious (and very funny).

I quickly learned the ropes. I also kept returning to a sense that I did not know where the future would take me. And I was scared. I was scared that I’d made the wrong choice. I kept thinking that I had been “brought low”. I never see shame in honest work but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a job for a college kid waiting for his big break. As a teacher I never made much money and that bothered me (especially considering that everyone around me did quite well in that department) but at least I had respectability. Who doesn’t admire teachers? We take your kids off your hands for 8 hours a day and turn them back to you as adults.

What Does Your Rock Say?

In 2018 as I began driving blood samples and cancer treatments all over hell and creation something amazing happened to me. God gifted me with time. I’ll never forget about two months in when I got called to drive a shipment of life-saving medicine from Dallas to San Antonio at midnight on a Friday. It’s a five hour trip each way. What else can you do in a car for five hours but pray? OK, I listened to an audiobook and broke my earlier resolution not to smoke and I drank a lifetime supply of black coffee. But about two hours into the trip I started a rosary. And then another one. And another. Each go-round I began to refine my focus and to ask God to keep showing me where He wanted me to be, what He wanted me to do. I had time to give thanks for my amazing wife and to ask courage and strength to be a better father to our kids. I had time to beg Him to give us just one more of those kids. I had time to contemplate that maybe this wasn’t His plan for us. And I had time to remember a tiny little rock I got on New Years Eve.

One of the things I brought with me from the job I had quit was a bag of rocks. I’m not kidding. I had been tasked with implementing a virtues training program for our students. I had a good one in mind and went all in to bring this to fruition. The principal, however, thought it would be “neat” to have the kids take small landscaping rocks and paint the names of virtues on them in order to decorate a “virtue garden” or something like that. This was the first clue that we weren’t on the same page. I expect a little more rigor. I never condescend to young people because I believe in their potential to come to the level where I am and exceed that. On my last day the environmental science teacher handed me a bag with about ten rocks containing the names of different virtues. I briefly contemplated finding a heretic or two and chucking the pebbles at them. You know, here’s someone who denied the faith! Let me hit them with a rock that says “faith” on it.

Our four rocks

My wife had other plans. On New Years Eve we hosted a small get-together with a family we are very close to. Toward midnight my wife brought out a bag and asked each of us to reach in and pull out one rock. Those rocks, she explained, would represent a virtue we should each strive to work on throughout 2018.

I pulled “gratitude”. At first I was disappointed. In fact I was downright ungrateful that I hadn’t pulled something “better”. And I instantly realized that I really needed to work on a lot of things in my life – particularly giving thanks to God for every little thing I have. This started with being grateful for my job. I went forward into January with the attitude that this job might not be what I wanted and probably wouldn’t pay a lot (it wasn’t bad) but it was work and I was grateful. My boss proved a wonderful woman who looked out for me and took good care of me. I became friendly with the people I would encounter regularly.

I also decided to renew the goal of always trying to get in better shape. Regular readers will know that I’ve been bitching mildly complaining for a few years about my inability, no matter how much work I put into it, to get in top condition. I re-assessed my outlook. What did I want? I had a friend once who had tried training me. I commend him for his efforts and I learned a lot from him. But I had been looking to him to make me what he was. He had long ago achieved the level of “shred” as they call it that I always wanted. And the only person who can get me to that point is me. I would henceforth be grateful that he helped start me off. I have another friend put it in perspective. “At our age, I want to be strong, fit, have energy, basically to be in phenomenal shape. I want that so I can come in the door and do the things my kids expect of me like a bike ride after work.” What did I want? All of the above. I would begin by being grateful that I could get out of bed in the morning unassisted at my age. I came to see myself as being in “not actually that bad shape”. I’ll ALWAYS strive to get better and that would continue to be a goal throughout the year. But I’m not gonna’ lie. It was nice to hear a few friends compliment me as 2018 ticked by that I was looking great.

I decided to make the most of every minute with my family. The job provided lots of alone time as I would drive into the lonely abyss of the Texas panhandle in the middle of the night. So when I could catch a few hours and my daughter would ask me to read to her or my son wanted me to watch a documentary about abandoned amusement parks I would be happy that I had a son and a daughter who share my interests and craved my time. And I also came to appreciate more deeply that THIS was my true calling (and that I was sort of good at it).

Finally I decided truly to ask God every day to show me where He would lead me. And in that prayer I came to receive the gift of a new opportunity to return to the classroom and to school administration. For this I am truly grateful.

I finished 2018 truly happy (and grateful) that I had been given so much time to reflect. I had prayed more deeply than I ever had before. I had appreciated my family in a new way. I like to think I became a better husband and father. I got to remember how much I love little things like the incredibly humbling task of teaching my little boy how to become a man or the miraculous gift of having a daughter share my birthday to the minute when I lost my twin sister so many years ago. I plowed through a few different workout routines and came to understand the inside of the gym a lot better. I packed on some mass, stripped off some a lot of bodyfat, got noticably stronger and feel positioned to keep going AND I’m not discouraged but grateful for the breakthroughs and for my overall health. I learned a new set of skills and an entirely new industry. I made some new friends. I even heard my boss tell me on New Years Eve that she was grateful for my professionalism and that she couldn’t have run her business as smoothly without me. I got a chance to embrace what it means to not care what others think of me and to willingly sacrifice a bigger paycheck in order to do important work (and work that I love doing).

I quit smoking! But I went back to it after two months. Some things never change.

Yet through it all I am grateful.

We did the whole rock thing again a few nights ago. We used new rocks this time that my daughter lovingly painted with my wife. For 2019 I am to work on “generosity”. I think I might just have this one under my belt but there will always be new ways to improve. I will start by striving to be a better friend, a better son, a better brother, a better husband, and a better father.

And as always, I will start this year with a flurry of posts. Whether or not I get that book(s) published, a YouTube channel up and running, or my stats go through the roof I am grateful I have a few of you to read what I say right here. I will keep hitting the gym every day – lifting harder and heavier each time, getting shredded because it’s always been my goal and I WILL achieve my goal, and adding new stuff to get all-around fit. There was a time I couldn’t do a single pull-up. Now I knock out dozens at a time. In the new year I’m going to master one-armed push-ups. And I will probably write all about it. And I thank you for still coming back to read about it.

God bless each of you in 2019 but especially the three most important people in my world. For you, I am eternally grateful.

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Posted in Dad Stuff, Faith/Theology/Spirituality, Family, Fitness, Prayer, weightlifting, Writing & Blogging

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