Category Archives: family

Clarity and the Responsibilities Which Come With It

As I sat in the pew every Sunday morning in church, I heard people pray for ‘clarity.’ As a kid, I didn’t understand what that meant. To me, life was simple—no responsibilities, no stakes. But as I grew older, I realized that clarity is one of life’s most sought-after yet elusive aspects. It’s what we crave when we’re faced with hard decisions and uncertain futures 

I’ve had many moments in my adult life where I did just that. All I wanted was a clear path to form before me. I’ve been faced with hard decisions and made tough choices without having enough information present. What I wouldn’t have given for an “eliminate the worst option” or “freeze time” card that could have helped me along the way. Or better yet, why can’t someone just make the RIGHT decision for me?

There is no proverbial light bulb that goes off. You don’t just scratch your head until you have your “aha” moment. Clarity comes when the tangled web of your experiences and your chaotic glimpse of the future magically line up. It’s when you know something must be done in a specific way or in a certain amount of time. In the sense I am writing about, clarity is seeing the best version of a particular part of your life and an actual path toward getting there.  It is more than just a moment of insight—it’s that instant when you know, without a doubt, what you need to do, whether it’s finally taking that job offer or walking away from a toxic relationship. 

This struggle and the challenge of its brother, hindsight, are not new; they’re as old as time, as seen in the story of Cain and Abel. We all know the story, and I believe that, more than anything, it is a vital allegory about personal responsibility. When Cain sees his brother’s treatment for his hard work and sacrifice, he realizes that he would be getting the same treatment if he had willfully performed the duties asked of him. We’ve all been there to a certain extent.

Imagine finding yourself at the bad end of a situation and then realizing YOU are the one to blame. Everything on the test was covered in class, but YOU didn’t study it. Your transmission goes out in your truck, but YOU blew your money instead of saving it. Your boyfriend breaks up with you because YOU didn’t take the time to learn how he needed to be loved.

Hindsight is 20/20, but clarity happens when you learn these things before it’s too late. Unfortunately, it’s not always as easy as studying for a test or saving money. The problems of life come with layers and complexity.

My grandma always said to be careful when praying for patience or courage because the Lord won’t just give it to you. You’ll have to earn it. He’ll give you opportunities to practice patience and put you in situations that allow you to be courageous. Those aren’t always the most popular places or events to be involved in. I’ve learned the same thing about clarity.

There is a sense of comfort and security in the ambiguity of the future. If you can’t tell what you COULD become, COULD obtain, or the relationships you COULD cultivate, then missing out on them doesn’t hurt. You never saw them and can’t lose what you never had. You can blame outside circumstances, timing, or many other things that are not in your control. You can easily avoid blaming yourself.

Clarity puts the responsibility squarely on your shoulders. It forces your decisions and actions to align with a target. Missing that target has tangible consequences. It requires you to be the best version of yourself so you can be ready to accept the blessings when they start pouring in. It means making multiple sacrifices in the present for what you will obtain in the future. This can be a tireless and trying task. It’s not the carrot at the end of a stick. It’s what awaits you after navigating through the labyrinth.  

Clarity is a powerful gift, but it’s also a call to action. It demands that we face the truth of our choices and take responsibility for our future. Whether we embrace it as a blessing or shy away from it in fear, clarity offers us a chance to shape our destiny. Either way, it’s one hell of a thing to experience. The question is: will we rise to the challenge?

Strong Timber

There is a tree at work that I watch throughout the year. It sits slightly off the road, between the bank and the car lot, but closer to the bank. I’m not sure what type of tree it is, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time looking at it when I’m outside. 

I’m no dendrologist (I definitely had to Google that one), but it’s probably 30 years old. Many trees in our little town are more giant and more beautiful. In fact, I’ve probably driven by this one for most of my life without noticing it. But I’ve learned that the older I get, the more I see the little things.

I enjoy the changes it makes throughout the different seasons, from complete and green to bare and rugged. One year, I even spotted some mistletoe high up in the branches. Trees have long served as a reminder to us to let go, start fresh, and flourish.

And grow.

If you watch a tree every day, you can’t see it grow. You may notice a difference if you only see it once a year. If you only see it every ten years, it won’t be the same tree you remember initially seeing. 

The other day, I was watching it and noticed the top swaying in the wind. It was the only portion of the tree moving, going back and forth briskly. I thought for a minute that it may even snap. The contrast it highlighted with the thick trunk and sturdy branches was noticeable. But then, it hit me.

Every other part of that tree had gone through a similar stage in its development. The rest of it was sturdy and stable because the wind and weather had tested it in the past. Either pass the test and become stronger, or let the weather snap you in two and prevent further growth. The biggest oaks and pines in the world are the ones that have weather the hardest, most frequent storms. 

And you can say the same thing about the strongest people. 

“Good timber does not grow with ease:

The stronger wind, the stronger trees;

The further sky, the greater length;

The more the storm, the more the strength.

By sun and cold, by rain and snow,

In trees and men good timbers grow.”

–Douglas Malloch

Happy Birthday, Mom

I must have been 11 or 12 years old when my buddy and I got up in front of our church family and sang “A Song for Mama” by Boyz II Men. He was and still is a natural musician with a great voice and a knack for learning any instrument. I, on the other hand, was not and still can’t. But I played the drums and saxophone in church and, at least this one time, even sang a song. I did it because it made my momma happy.

I thought about this song today and gave it a quick play on Spotify, and I tried to take myself back to that moment when we sang it at church. I saw my mom sitting at the piano and his mom sitting at the organ; their faces lit up, and they were proud of the young men their sons were turning into. We could have never known that day that some 30 years later, they would both be gone. If I had known, I would have sung her more songs. As many as she wanted.

My mom would be 62 years old tomorrow and spending most of her time telling everyone about how her oldest grandchild would be graduating high school soon. Or how her youngest is full of sass and spirit. She would be at every football, basketball, or baseball game she could attend. Every cheerleading competition or band recital. She’d find ways to show them how much they mean to her in their own way. And if I’m being candid here, it pisses me off that she got cheated out of so much. Or maybe I’m selfish and upset that she got ripped away from us too soon.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds, and it may eventually. Some days it happens more than others, but I think about her daily. 95% of the time, those thoughts make me smile or even put me at ease, but that other 5% is brutal, man. When I see someone’s silhouette and mistake it for hers. When I hear a laugh that sounds like her laugh. When someone mentions seeing her in my kids. Those days the grief holds on and doesn’t let go.

“I’ll never go a day without my mama.” That’s a line from the song I took issue with after listening to it. I’ve gone many days without her now. She won’t be at the table during holidays or taking pictures in the background. She won’t be bringing me a drink out of the blue or calling to see how my day at work went. I can’t listen to her play the piano or seek her advice when I’m in a bind.

But, dadgum it, she lives on. She lives on in me and my children and the memories that live rent-free in my head. The photos come to life, and the home videos tell new stories. She lives on in this blog and the stories I tell my kids, and hopefully, they’ll recant to theirs. She’ll forever keep that special place in my heart and soul, and her sweet voice will always ring in my head.

I write these things out and throw them in the wind for 2 reasons. For one, it helps me clear my mind when things get all jammed up in there and must be purged. And secondly, I want this to be accessible to someone who might be going through a similar situation and not know how to deal with it. Maybe my words can comfort them or get them through the day. Almost everyone has had to deal with loss at some point. But that doesn’t mean it is ever easy.

Happy birthday in Heaven, Mom. I’m doing my best down here, I promise. Love you always!

This Christmas

This Christmas, some people will sit around the TV and watch sports while talking about how nice it is to have a break from work. But others will be going into the new year hoping to get a call back from one of places they left their resume. And some will be patrolling streets, fighting fires, working the counter at a gas station, pulling a double shift at the hospital, or making sure we keep the electricity turned on.

This Christmas, some people will be surrounded by loving family in a home filled with joy, laughter, and excitement. But some people will be sitting all alone with no one to enjoy it with. Or on the open highway because they can’t stand the feeling of an empty house. Some wives will be sitting next to abusive husbands, trying their best to hide their pain from everyone else. Some men will be watching their cheating wives pass presents around for the kids, wondering how long they can hold on to a marriage that’s failing.

This Christmas, some people will pick up their grandkids or play football with their cousins. But some people won’t be able to pick themselves up out of their wheelchairs. And others will have just received horrible news about an inoperable tumor. Some people will be spending their Christmas day hooked up to ventilators or IV drips, and others will stare at the walls in a nursing home, praying they had family to come visit them.

This Christmas, some parents will take pictures with their infant as they soak in the experience of a child’s first Christmas. But others will be mourning the first holiday season without their child. Some will know that this might be the last Christmas with an aging parent or loved one, while others will have to muddle through the season with a fresh loss hanging heavy over their heart. Chairs that have been filled for years will be empty and many familiar faces will be permanently absent.

This Christmas, most of us will have access to a warm house, running water, electricity, and edible food. But many others won’t have any of these things. Some parents will endure fatigue, hunger, and their own well-being just to put a smile on their childrens’ faces, even if only for a moment. And some won’t have the means to even be able to that.

This Christmas, some will slow down and take stock of all the blessings present in their lives. And others won’t realize what they have until they don’t have it anymore. And since we will never truly know the  full situation of our neighbors or strangers we may encounter, a little bit of empathy can go a long way.

Low Hanging Fruit

“Low hanging fruit” is one of those southern terms that I have heard so many times over the years that I never really thought about what it meant. The other day, though, I talked to my son about something significant, and I used the phrase. He asked me what it meant, and I had to stop for a minute and think. I have these moments from time to time, and I never seem to be prepared for them. I listened to plenty of great parenting advice, but no one ever told me they would ask so many innocent questions that were so hard to answer. But, like it tends to happen, the answer I came up with probably helped me more than it helped him.

https://www.equalexperts.com/blog/our-thinking/is-it-time-to-rethink-low-hanging-fruit/


For context, this particular son has been the target of bullying at school. We talk about it a lot, and he knows he can confide in his mom and me. For the most part, the bullying has been verbal. But, it’s hard to grasp the concept of sticks and stones at that age. I know how kids, specifically boys, can act. If your parents get involved with this, it can make the situation a whole lot worse than it already is—especially when the adults aren’t looking. I also believe that protecting your kids from things like this can be more detrimental to them than helping them find the tools they need to deal with them and overcome them.

https://metro.co.uk/2021/12/14/bully-2-was-supposed-to-be-at-the-game-awards-claims-rockstar-insider-15768975/

He has always been a little socially awkward and mouthy—a deadly combination and the recipe for an easy target. We’ve gone to great lengths to try to cultivate a little bit of self-awareness in him. As unfortunate as it is for someone his age, other kids notice how you dress, talk, carry yourself, interact with others, etc. Not only do they see these things, but they seem to care way more than he does (which is not at all).

So, I explained that bullies like to go for the low-hanging fruit. “What does that mean, dad?”
I stopped for a minute and thought about it. I first used the example of an apple tree. I asked him if he had to pick ten apples off of the tree, which ones would he choose. Of course, he said, the ones closest to the ground. “See, son, it’s just easier that way. The lower the fruit hangs, the easier it is to get it off of the tree, and bullies are always going to take the path of least resistance.” He gave me a slight nod and was hoping I would shut up. But, I didn’t—I thought about it some more.

https://www.northjersey.com/story/life/columnists/2018/11/29/parenting-angry-teen-tween/2117983002/


I asked him if he thought the fruit at the top of the tree was more desirable, and I was surprised that he knew it was, and he even knew it was because they get more sunlight.

We talked about how apples were stuck on the tree and didn’t get to choose their positioning. But the great thing about our lives is that we can put ourselves in a position to receive more light. For my son, that means behaving in a way that makes adults and other students want to interact with him. More interactions mean more opportunities, which means more chances to learn and grow. Learning and growing continue to open more paths and avenues for further development.


Putting ourselves higher up on the tree not only gives us more sunlight but also prevents people from coming by and picking us off the limb. The longer we stay on the tree, the more we can remain green and continue to grow (credit my car business mentor for that one). If we fall off the tree before we are ready, we end up rotting on the ground or, even worse, food for farm animals.

https://gardenprofessors.com/ripening/

Receiving extra sunlight and staying on the limb longer ultimately give us the chance to ripen on our terms. Instead of being plucked off by people looking for low-hanging fruit, we can continue to learn and grow until we are ready to fall off ourselves.


I only hope that my son got as much from this teaching moment as I did.

The Science, no, Art of Letting Go 

Fall is here, and with it comes the clichés of starting over, shedding baggage, and embracing change. I usually shudder when I see something like that, yet here I am, clutching the moment and coming to realizations that are a long time in the making. Maybe there actually is something unique to the archetypical, long-standing arrangement between the 4 seasons.  

https://onlyinark.com/culture/top-8-fall-color-road-trips-in-arkansas/

For as long as I can remember, I have always felt like an analytical person. I usually perform best in structured environments where I know what to expect. If A, then B. Give me a checklist and what you expect from me, and you can almost bet I’ll produce. I really liked Math in school—once you figure out how to do it, you can always arrive at the correct answer.  

I realized a trend recently in my life. It seems as though I like the challenge of trying to figure out a way to apply structure and rigidity to things that don’t usually fit inside of a box. I tried this with the car business. No two people are the same, and no two car deals play out the same, either. I tried to eliminate all of the variables and create a process that worked the same every time. This isn’t a new thing in the industry, but I think I did it pretty well, and it was definitely my favorite aspect of the business.  

https://insights.dice.com/2019/09/20/mathematicians-list-hottest-job-titles/

I tried to do the same thing in my marriage. If I do this, this, and this, then surely that, that, and that will follow. It’s an excellent way to keep things predictable and stable for a short bit of time, but I don’t think that strategy would work in any marriage over the long haul.  

This year I have had to let go quite a bit—more than any other year to date. And, like most other things I have encountered in life, I subconsciously tried to deal with it from a scientific, or analytical, frame of mind. What I’ve learned is that letting go is no science at all. It is the art of all arts. 

https://www.insightsassociation.org/article/art-vs-science-market-research-battle-we-can-win-win

I never will forget a conversation I had with my dad while my mom was dying. We were near the end of her stint in a long-term rehab center, and I was frustrated because no one was giving me answers. I tried to get the doctor to call me for days and kept getting the run around from the nurses. Dad had mentioned something about them recommending hospice care, and the tone of his voice made me realize that he had seen the writing on the wall. This was the first time I had considered that my mom could die and probably was dying. He later told me something along the lines of, “I was wondering when you were going to accept that she was dying.”  

That only began the process of letting go of mom. I had spent months watching her health decline but always believed something would change and she would end up being okay. I always thought she would walk again. When we moved her to hospice, I had to change my whole frame of mind. A friend at work suggested that I “release her.” That I tell her that it’s okay for her to leave. So, I did. 

https://www.ewellnessmag.com/article/giving-the-final-gift-eleven-ways-to-help-a-dying-person-let-go

The night before she died, I kissed her on her forehead and told her how much I loved her. I brought the kids in one by one to say goodbye. I prayed with her and played her favorite song on the phone. She knew about the problems I was having in my marriage, so I assured her that whatever happened, I would be fine. I let her go. And then she died the following day.  

There was no scientific way to get there—just some advice from a good friend and a leap of faith. Letting her go lifted an emotional burden off my shoulders and I’m convinced it helped mom let go of her earthly body. It helped her end her suffering and enabled me to start the grieving process.  

I’ve also had to let go of marriage this year.  

https://www.powerofpositivity.com/marriage-worth-saving-or-time-to-let-go/

I felt like I had done everything on the checklist the right way. I thought I had killed all the baby dragons before they became big enough to come to burn down our home. I had sacrificed some happiness, emotional health, and a whole lot of time in exchange for stability and security. The only problem was I didn’t ask for any help when I made the checklist, and she had one of her own that I wasn’t taking care of. 

My analytical mind had told me that if I kept battling forward, eventually, the dam would break. Every time someone looking in from the outside told me that I needed to be done, it fueled me to keep trying that much harder. The harder I pushed, the further away from the prize I found myself. In the scientific world, force x speed = power. But in the realm of emotions, force x speed = distance created.

https://slidetodoc.com/lesson-5-4-power-essential-question-how-do/

I fought for a long time, too, man. I fought so much that I’m pretty sure I actually lost focus of what I was fighting for. I held on to principles, memories, and images of what I had envisioned for my life. I battled and battled because I felt like the kids deserved for us to be together. If I had gotten what I wanted, odds are we wouldn’t have been able to make it work anyway. Regardless, I fought hard—even though it was too late. At some point, I realized that I was only fighting for the sake of fighting. And the moment that crossed my mind, I let go.  

I don’t regret fighting. I can live with what happened, and the experiences learned will make me such a better partner the next time around. I left it all on the court, and even after the buzzer sounded, I stayed around and kept shooting. I was still there after the lights went out and the crowd emptied the building. It sharpened my skills and made me better, but eventually, you have to jump back into a new game.  

https://identity-mag.com/this-one-is-for-all-the-basketball-players-out-there/

For 38 years, I viewed “letting go” as if I were hanging from the side of a cliff, and to “let go” would mean a plummet straight toward the ground. Letting go is hard, and if you look at it through that lens, it is also scary and intimidating—free falling to your imminent death. 

But what I’ve learned this year, I hope everyone reading this will take away with them. Sometimes, what you are holding on to isn’t as sturdy as you think. When you let go, you take a burden off what you are holding on to—like my mom and my marriage. And sometimes, that fall doesn’t always mean certain death. While you’re falling, you can see the world around you from a different perspective. New possibilities bring themselves to light. New pathways provide highways for new journeys. You meet other people who have let go as well, and you can fall together. If you embrace the fall, it can become a beautiful experience. 

And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll even land on your feet. 

https://identity-mag.com/this-one-is-for-all-the-basketball-players-out-there/

The Two Paths of Decision-Making

There is an infinite number of rabbit holes a person can find while using the internet. Some are dark and creepy. Others are light-hearted and funny. Many of them will find you wishing you had the time spent back, and a few of them may help you be more productive. One of my recent rabbit hole dives led me to The Knowledge Project, a podcast hosted by Shane Parrish. From that podcast, I found his website, The Farnam Street Blog, which provides articles and exposes that center on how and why we handle the process of decision making.

There are some fascinating articles on the blog and some fantastic interviews on the podcast. I would suggest checking either or both of them out. But one theme that pops up now and then is the idea of making decisions based on the probable outcome. More specifically, do you make decisions based on the best possible ending or eliminating the worst-case scenario?

fs.blog

Most people would probably pick like me and say the former rather than the latter before they put a lot of thought into it. On the surface, who wouldn’t want the “best possible outcome?” But when you look back on your life and analyze some of your decisions, is that what you did? And if not, do you regret it? Will you change the way you make your decisions going forward? Let’s look at two different scenarios and then think about how you handled or will handle them in your life.

Love

If you could see fifty years into the future when choosing who you will spend your life with, how does your ideal scenario play out? For me, it would be a lifelong love affair with someone I connect with on the deepest level. It would be hills and valleys but having them right there by my side the whole time. They would be by my side for the suffering and the joy, and we would share our experiences every step of the way. I’m sure everyone’s answer is a little different, but that’s what it would look like for me. On the flip side, though, what kind of roadblocks would you have to stumble over if you made your choice like that? How much would you overlook, and how far would you let it go?

But what if I decided to eliminate the worst-case scenario? I would probably settle down with someone financially secure who had good genes to pass down to our children. And, we would take those pictures in the fall with the trees in the background (to make sure the grandparents were pleased). I would probably even sacrifice passion and attraction for security and acceptance.

Now I’m not saying that you can’t have both, by the way. And, I’m not saying you’re wrong if you choose to go with the more safe and secure path. I think it’s interesting how we shape our lives by eliminating some of the variables that could leave us vulnerable in the end–nothing more and nothing less.

Career

The best-case scenario in your career would be sticking to the adage, “Find something you love to do, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” If you can take a passion, skill, or gift and find a way to monetize it over the long term, you will probably end up very fulfilled and satisfied when it is time to retire. But there are apparent risks while traveling down this path. How long do you have to wait before your passion becomes lucrative? How many times do you have to fail until you get it right? How does that affect your health and your family?

In this situation, the worst-case scenario is finding yourself broke and not providing for your family. How do you eliminate that? Most people decide to find a place that will pay them regularly, and they trade out that paycheck for 40 hours or more a week. There’s not much risk involved as most jobs won’t require a financial investment. If you can handle the workload and hours, you will have some change in your pocket at the end of the week after making enough money to provide for your family.

Again, there is nothing wrong with either one of these options. One is more romantic and risky, and the other is safe and secure. It just goes to show you how our decision-making process can shape the way our lives play out. The examples I mentioned above would be considered “major choices” in the long run. Still, we make these same kinds of differentiation in almost every micro decision we make daily.

How did it affect your most recent car purchase? What about your interaction with the person in line in front of you at the bank? Even when picking out what music to listen to on the road home or where to pick up takeout, we are constantly weighing the option of “best possible outcome” or “eliminating the worst-case scenario.”

I believe the key to living a satisfying life is finding the harmonious balance between these two ways of making decisions. After all, we are only the sum of our choices. Choose wisely, my friends! Too much risk may find us in the shower biting our knees in agony, but not enough of it may leave us cold and unfilled.

Resentment is a Dead End Road

I like putting dictionary definitions in my blog posts. Sometimes I even look up familiar words on my own to get some bonus context from them. I’ll get these out of the way quickly:

resentment; noun
the feeling of displeasure or indignation at some act, remark, person, etc.

indignation; noun
strong displeasure at something considered unjust, offensive, insulting, or base

unjust; adjective
not just; lacking in justice or fairness

My simplified definition of resentment would have to be “the feeling of displeasure at an unfair act or person.” Of all the emotions I have ever experienced, this is the one that seems to do the most damage to relationships. I’ve seen it happen to others and have also witnessed it within myself. When I try to visualize what resentment would look like, I see a monstrous beast that sets its hook-like appendages into your heart. Once those hooks get placed, it’s challenging to be set free from its grasp.

I think there are many causes for resentment, but I’m going to narrow it down to three for this blog post. These are solely based on my experience, and, like always, I should note that I am not an expert on the matter—just a guy who has experienced some things and likes to share. I’m going to list the prominent three causes of resentment and offer ways in which you may be able to free yourself from it.

Unrealistic Expectations
Unless otherwise provoked, I believe most of us start any interaction with good intentions. My pastor, Mark Lykins, said something from the pulpit years ago that stuck—“Humans are bad judges by nature because we judge other people by their actions, but we judge ourselves by our intent.” I had never thought about it that way, but it makes a ton of logical sense. Removing our ego can help improve our interactions and relationships as well.

Try to imagine that everyone possesses a constantly changing hierarchical pyramid that controls their interactions. The tip of this pyramid would be the highest valued person, principle, or result at any given time. There may be scenarios in which you feel like your presence or your idea should be at the top of someone’s pyramid when something or someone supersedes it by no fault of their own. It would be arrogant for any of us to believe that we should be at the top of every pyramid all the time. But, if we feel like we should be a higher priority but get treated like we are not, resentment will almost surely set in.

So, how can we navigate this? Be aware of your ability to not live up to other people’s standards and make concessions for people who don’t live up to yours. Understand that life is complex and has many layers, and, as lovely as it would be, things don’t always line up in the way you want them to. Manage your expectations of others while demanding more of yourself.

Not Being Heard/Not Being Able to Speak

Have you ever been around a new mother when they hear their baby start to cry? Something innate in us causes us to cry out when we need something or feel unpleasant. There is also something deep inside that compels us to respond when we hear someone crying out. There are very few people who could walk away from a crying baby without batting an eye.

Most of us (hopefully) grow out of that stage where we wail at the top of our lungs until someone comes to our aid. But, that instinctual feeling to be heard never goes away. On the flip side, we tend to lose the empathetic nature we have for other people as they get older.

Babies aren’t emotionally mature enough to harbor resentment, but you don’t need me to tell you how damaging it can be to them when someone repeatedly ignores their cries. As we get older and develop our emotions and personalities, having someone shut you out can feel unjust and eventually strain relationships.

Similarly, feeling like you are unable to speak has the same effect. Maybe you don’t feel like you are qualified to vocalize your thoughts on a particular topic. Perhaps you are in an emotionally abusive relationship and feel like your opinion or idea doesn’t matter. Or maybe you are even paralyzed by the fear that what you say or how you say it may come across in an unintended manner. One thing is for sure—if you don’t say it, then they won’t hear it.

So how can you make sure these things don’t cause resentment to sink its ugly teeth in your heart? Firstly, you need to think about whether the things you are saying are essential enough to vocalize or if remaining silent may be a better option. A lot like managing your expectations, it can be arrogant to think that your voice holds more weight than anyone else’s. But, if you have decided that you must express your concern, then the pathway is simple—speak. If the other person refuses to hear you, firmly let them know that what you are saying is important and you need them to listen to you. It may be nerve-racking, but it beats the alternative.

Someone Taking Advantage of You

This one is tough for a couple of reasons. No one likes to be taken advantage of, especially when the person doing it is someone you care dear to you. It can be complicated to distinguish between someone consciously taking advantage of you and someone who may not realize they are doing anything at all. Either way, it is not a comfortable situation.

The unfortunate truth is that there are probably people in your circle who are so self-centered they will knowingly sacrifice their good relationship with you to further their agenda. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I have dealt with those people in different parts of my life. Typically people like this are trained in the art of manipulation, and they can be hard to spot. Once spotted, though, it is usually an easy decision to create some distance between your life and theirs.

The other type is a lot harder to identify because they don’t even realize they are taking advantage of you and are ignorant of its impact on your relationship with them. It can also be intimidating when you think about confronting the person because often, they can be in your closest inner circle. And, if truth be told, part of the reason they get away with it is that you have enabled that kind of behavior for quite some time.

To me, this is the hardest of the bunch to nip in the bud before resentment takes hold. It is vital to voice your concerns to the other party, no matter how uncomfortable the situation may become. After all, most everyone would trade some minor discomfort to salvage a close relationship. After you speak to them about the issue, set some firm standards and boundaries for behavior that you feel is acceptable and not acceptable. Finally, make sure to be clear with the other party of the limits of your boundaries so you can both be on the same page.

When I make a post like this, I always feel the need to mention several times that I am not a professional. Please consult a therapist if you think resentment may be on the verge of costing you a special relationship. A year ago, I would have never dreamt that I would set foot in a psychiatrists’ office, but after many sessions, I can tell you that there is great value in talking to someone about your issues. The only thing I can tell you with certainty is that resentment and bitterness are hazardous emotions, and they can eat away at you from the inside out. It may start with the loss of a close friend or family member, but it has the potential to change your whole character and personality. I hope this helps someone!

Mitakpa–Impermanence

I recently read a book entitled “The Comfort Crisis” by Michael Easter. You can pick it up here if you are interested. It is a phenomenal read and beautifully puts into perspective the relative ease of our current lifestyles and the somewhat shocking problems that derive from it. It is overflowing with ideas to research outside of its covers and I’m sure this won’t be the only blog post I write thanks to the abundance of interesting topics it covers. But one topic, more than anything, really resounded with me, and that was the idea of mitakpa.

Mitakpa is a Tibetan word that roughly translates to impermanence in English. When I thought about it, I realized that I was almost certain I had ever used that word and wasn’t sure if I had ever seen it come up in text or conversation. I had a feeling I knew the jest of it, but I looked up the Dictionary.com definition of it just to be sure.

 noun

the fact or quality of being temporary or short-lived:

As taught by Buddhists, the idea of mitakpa is that everything born is subject to death and decay. They practice the concept by deliberately thinking about death and the dying process 3 times daily—once each in the morning, midday, and evening. You may be thinking what I was thinking when I read that. “Wow, what a miserable thing to do.” But when I learned how they expounded on that, it made a lot of sense both practically and philosophically.

They look at life as a journey towards a cliff in which everyone, inevitably, will walk off one day. It may be tomorrow, or it may be in 80 years, but one day it will happen. We have two choices regarding that cliff. We can either act like it isn’t there and be surprised when we find it, or we can acknowledge its existence and plan our course accordingly. It has real “one life to live” vibes but it hit me on a completely different level.

You can live a complete life without ever thinking about the cliff but imagine how differently you would chart your course if you made peace with the destination. I thought about who I was walking with, what we did along the way, and all the flowers I would regret not stopping and smelling on the way when I saw the cliff come into view.

I also thought about the people that chose to walk with me. Would they come to the end of their journey and wish they had walked with someone else? Was there something they wanted to stop and do along the way that I ignored while placing a higher priority on someone else? Good grief when you think about it, what an honor it would be for someone to choose to walk to the edge of that cliff with you. Am I doing everything imaginable to make their journey just as fulfilling as mine?

One great thing about youth is that, if you’re lucky, you don’t have to think about death very often. If luck continues to be on your side, you won’t have to deal with it much at all until you get older, more mature, and better capable of dealing with it properly. I was lucky on both counts but it seems as though my luck has finally caught up with me. I’ve now lost all my grandparents and recently just laid to rest my mother, who was 60.

My mom was still alive while I was reading “The Comfort Crisis,” but she wasn’t doing very well, and the thought of her potentially dying had begun to creep into my mind from time to time. I thought about her journey to the edge of the cliff and wondered if she had a fulfilling trip. I hoped she hadn’t experienced too many regrets and I prayed the time she spent with me was something that made her trip a little more enjoyable. I was also curious as to whether she could see the end or not and if she could, had she made peace with her journey? It comforts me to think that she did.

I don’t think about death 3 times a day as the monks do, but I do try to make a point to think about it from time to time. It takes me out of my comfort zone a little bit and helps keep me centered on the truly important things. I’m not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I do feel certain about one thing–life is a tremendous blessing and should be treated as such. I feel fortunate to be alive and healthy with no sign of my cliff in sight for the moment. When it finally does enter my horizon, I hope to greet it with a smile and walk off it with no regrets.

A Tribute to My Momma

This is what I wrote out prior to giving my mother’s tribute at her funeral. I had some people ask me to share it here.

My mom was so hard-headed and steadfast that I never thought I would find myself in this situation, and I definitely didn’t think it would be this early in my life. You see, if you want to figure out the recipe for strong willed and stubborn, I’ll let you in on the secret. You take equal parts Adams and Wallace, mix them with an unshakeable Faith, dash in a few life experiences and top off with a generous portion of Stone. Disclaimer: This recipe is not recommended for beginners.


For those of you who don’t know our family’s story, let me give you some background. My biological father signed away his rights to me at an early age. God must have thought that mom needed an upgrade and she found true happiness and got remarried. When I was in second grade, that selfless and amazing man adopted me as his own and gave me his last name. Along with a real dad, I was blessed with 2 sisters, twins, and only 4 months older than me, which they remind me of often. Just as my dad treated me like one of his own, my mom treated Tanya and Tonya like they were her flesh and blood. She never called them her step daughters. To her, they were a central part of the family that just happened to come along a little later in life.  


It’s unfortunate for all of you that you didn’t get to see my mom through the same lens I did. You see, we butted heads a lot. And I mean a lot. There was a time when we only saw eye to eye when we met each other going up and down on the see saw. Of course, as we get older we learn that the parents were right most of the time. And, while I know any good relationship has battle scars, I can look back and know with 100% confidence that she ALWAYS had my best interest at heart.  


She never gave up on me and she always wanted me to do the right thing. And I don’t mean that loosely. Her and dad raised me in a way that to this very day if I am having a hard time making a decision, I find myself asking what mom would do. And I’m sure that will never change.


As a mother she always went above and beyond, sacrificing her time and energy for opportunities for me. She always made sure I was at all my practices and games (unless they interfered with church), and we NEVER missed church. She held down a full-time job until her back got the best of her, but that didn’t slow her down a bit. I remember in junior high she would get up early and we would go pick up Rod and Jason Lowe to go workout and shoot free throws at the gym before school started.  


A few years ago on Valentine’s Day, I got a message on Facebook out of the blue from a girl who went to school with us in 2nd and 3rd grade. She was a Jehovah’s Witness and I know it much have been tough on her growing up. Her family didn’t celebrate holidays like the rest of us did and she was always left out during those activities. She told me that every Valentine’s Day she thought of us because my mom made her a special “friendship” card so that she could get something and take it home. It touched her so much that she’ll never forget it. That’s the kind of person Kim Stone was—always thinking about someone else.  


And then came the grandkids. And if I was ever unsure what my mom’s purpose in life was before, when Dakota was born it became clear that she was put on this earth to be Nana. Then came Aubrey. And Keegan. Then Hayden, Jaxson, Levi, Ben and Naomi. Each one carved out their own little unique place in her heart and she cherished them more than anything else in this world. In fact, many of you were probably late for a meeting or had to miss a phone call because mom wouldn’t stop talking about them.  


The last 2 years of her life were spent in a tremendous amount of physical pain. When she lost the ability to walk that physical pain was paired with sadness and heartache. Mom was an extrovert and she was energized by interactions with people. With Covid sweeping over the world and her extended stays in Little Rock, Conway, and Searcy, those cherished interactions were ripped from her life and caused her to go into a deep depression. For months she had been telling dad and I that her mom and dad had been coming to visit her. She was dreaming of Heaven and spending time with her family that had gone on before. I know she is where she needs to be and I know she’s with people that have loved her dearly, but that sure doesn’t make things any easier on us down here.

 
I’m forever thankful that we got her back to town in time for her to be comfortable physically and to have the opportunity for people to say goodbye. Even though she wasn’t externally responsive, I know she could feel the warmth and love on the inside. She took her last breath while she was surrounded by 3 of her classmates, and that has provided our family with a great deal of peace.


But I won’t remember my mom that way. For me, I’ll always be the little boy sitting on the church pew at 3rd and Harrison next to my grandma, watching my beautiful mother bang away on the piano keys like it was an extension of her body. I’ll remember how she would look over to me every now and then and smile so big like she was just so proud of me. I’ll watch her walk across the stage to the organ, without needing anyone or anything to help her, and I”ll close my eyes and listen to her play “When They Ring Those Golden Bells.”  Then I’ll open my eyes and see the tears on the faces of the congregation and know that so many other people will remember her the same way.  


When I first started selling cars almost 15 years ago, one of the first things I learned was the importance of quickly finding common ground with the customer. I found that the easiest way to do this was to figure out if we knew any of the same people. To this day, this is still one of my favorite things to do in any conversation and I highly suggest you trying it out, too.  


The look on someone’s face when they do know the person you are asking about actually tells you more about the person in question than it does the person you are talking to. For a brief second you get to see that person’s natural and unfiltered opinion of the other.  


In a town this size, and with a mom like mine, I got to experience this quite often. It would usually go like this: “You probably know my mom, Kim Stone.” First would come the sparkle in the eye, and then the smile would curl up on their lips, and it would usually be followed with an almost peaceful sigh and, “Oh I know your momma.”  


As we move on through life and the pain slowly starts to fade maybe one day I’ll get used to people saying “I KNEW your momma.”  

Kimberly Lee Stone

May 5th, 1961 to July 27th, 2021