parenting – Page 2 – Yelco State of Mind

We Could All Use a Little Perspective

I was taking my daughter to preschool a few months ago and, like nearly every other morning, she was gearing up to conquer her day in an energetic and rambunctious way. She was singing random songs, quoting odd facts, and asking aimless questions. We took the same route we have always taken and we were at a particularly mundane section of the drive when one of her random thoughts hit me like a sack of bricks.

We were traveling north and the sun was at just the perfect spot in the sky to be obstructed periodically by the small buildings on the east side of the road. “Bye-bye sun! Hello, sun! Bye-bye sun! Hello, sun!” she would yell as the buildings blocked the light as we traveled on the highway. I’m not sure what it was about that particular morning that made me pause, but a thought came to my mind that I felt like I needed to share.

That big ball of gas has a radius of over 400,000 miles and is floating out in space more than 94 million miles away from our planet. It is so massive that its force causes 9 planets (or 10 for you Pluto purists) to orbit around it. It is the center of a solar system for crying out loud. So how is it even possible that it can be obstructed by a 1-story antique mall between Dardanelle and Russellville?

Well, it’s all about perspective. One definition provided by dictionary.com for that word is, “the state of existing in space before the eye.” We don’t have to be physicists to realize that where we are in relation to an object is just as much of a factor as size or distance from that object in terms of how we view it. We don’t think about it every day, but we just know. For instance, objects appear to be larger when you view them up close than they do from a further distance.

But, another definition provided for perspective is, “the state of one’s ideas, the facts known to one, etc., in having a meaningful interrelationship.” All of this made me think of something that I remember hearing on a youth group trip to St. Louis when I was no more than 12 years old. If it caught my attention at that age enough to stick, it’s probably worth repeating.

We were sitting in a Mcdonald’s that overlooked the freeway. It was late in the evening and all of the cars passing by looked like darting streams of light that were here one second and gone just as quickly. One of the adults at the table said, “You see all of those balls of light flickering down there? Every one of them has a person or family in it that has its own set of unique problems. Some of them may be dealing with the death of a child. Others may have just been fired from work. There may be someone who was recently diagnosed with cancer. Some have already lost hope and others may not even realize the blessings they have been given.”

I don’t think about that story as often as I used to, but I am grateful that my daughter’s dance with the sun brought it back to the front of my mind for a moment. The last 2 years have been hard on my family and there have been plenty of times that I sat around and felt sorry for myself. I’ve felt unloved, unappreciated, and even invisible at times. But one thing I’ve learned through it all is that the best weapon to fight an enemy like that is thankfulness.

I don’t know if anyone will read this or if anyone who happens to read this needs to hear it, but if there is someone out there looking for unsolicited advice, let me offer a thought that has helped me through the rough patches. When things feel like they can’t get any worse, look around at who and what you have in your life and be grateful for everything. Some of the things you take for granted would be tremendous blessings to those who don’t have them. A little bit of change in perspective can go a long way in easing the pain in your life. You may even be able to turn something bleak and dreary into something beautiful and fulfilling.

Seasons and Stages: Learning to Embrace Your Current Spot

Gradual changes over long periods of time have always been one of those things that just screws with my head. I remember being able to hold each of my kids in one arm and feeding them by bottle. Night after night I was not able to see them growing, but one day I wasn’t able to hold them like that anymore. When I look back on it, I can’t put my finger on the exact time in which it happened. But it certainly did happen.

As I have gotten older and experienced more people close to me dying, I’ve noticed that people who are old or sick seem to be at peace with leaving their earthly bodies. I’m convinced that when you get to a certain point in your journey, something in your soul changes and you just become okay with the prospect of death. Some people even seem to embrace it.

Muhammad Ali once said, “The man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.” The first time I read that I thought it was kind of silly. Everyone always tells you that the secret to life is to never grow up. You must maintain that childlike spirit even as you age. If you do that, you will never get old.

But when I thought about how that applied to my life, it made total sense. I’ve just recently moved into a new “season” of my life. Just like feeding the babies, I can’t tell you exactly when it happened, but it hit me like a rock when it did. Ali wasn’t urging us to lose our youthful nature, but he was telling us that each stage of life Is unique and brings about its own challenges and joys.

I work with a couple of young guys who are just starting to build their stories. Their wives are pregnant with their first child and they are settling in with their first big purchases while anxiously waiting to see how their lives are going to be changed forever. I’ve been giving a ton of unsolicited advice and feel like some of the annoying older people who did the same thing to me all those years ago.

But more than anything, I have been reflecting on that previous season of my life. The glowing wife, the stack of bills, the unknown future, the restless delivery room, those first few months of terror and sleepless nights. My wife and I are not having anymore children, so I’ll never experience these things again. Every day my kids get a little bit further from their beginnings and closer to sprouting into their own skin.

My first emotion was a deep sadness. I don’t remember enjoying the lack of sleep on that sofa the nights our children were born. I remember some of the little things that use to be annoying realities of having a newborn. But all of a sudden, I was sad, and I missed those things. But I quickly realized that those things aren’t for us to experience forever. And now I understand what those annoying “old people” meant when the said, “Don’t blink, bud.”

So, I am embracing this new season in my life. I’m going to continue to help my kids develop into the best humans they can be, take steps to become a better husband to my wife, enjoy my time with loved ones while they are still here, and spew tons of advice to the younger kids while playing my part as the annoying old man.

With all the division we have in the world right now, it is comforting to know that for ages and ages, people really have always been about the same. Through war and famine and plague, the game keeps going on and on, even if the players shuffle positions every few years.

When Two Words Are All You Need

I’ve had a few people ask me if “A Letter to my DNA Provider” had reached its intended audience. I wrote that letter straight off the cuff in one sitting and I really hadn’t put any thought into whether or not he would read it. I certainly didn’t consider what his reaction would be if he did. After I published it and noticed it racking up the view counts (many more than I ever dreamed), I said to myself, “Wow, he’s going to read this.” My stomach turned with anxiety. Part nerves and part excitement. It was like being on the free throw line at the end of the game and knowing you were going to be either the hero or the goat. But it had already been published. You have to take the shot.

After almost a month of over 1600 views and much discussion, I transferred the thought of him reading the post to the back of my mind. I even conceded that if he did read it, I would never know about it. He wouldn’t comment. He wouldn’t openly subject himself to that much criticism in a public forum. Maybe he’ll send me an email. Maybe he won’t do anything at all.

Two nights ago, when I should have been sleeping, I was browsing Facebook on my phone and a notification popped up at the top of the screen for just a couple of seconds. I glanced up to see the words, “Scott Griffin has replied to your post on WordPress.” The anxiety came back, but this time it was almost to the point of nausea. I stayed on the same page thinking that maybe if I didn’t acknowledge that I had seen the notification it would be as if it never happened. I didn’t move a muscle for five minutes. I knew if I opened and read that comment I would get no sleep.

There was no option. I had to open it. It had an answer in there. It may not be what I’m looking for but it is something. And I have to find out what it is.

The comment and my reply can be found here. I don’t know what I was expecting. Sunshine? Rainbows? An apology? Acceptance? I truly don’t know. What I got was a reply from a man who felt like he had been backed into a corner by a crowd of people he doesn’t know. In his words he was tried, convicted, and crucified by a group of people who only had one side of a story. He thought he was being judged. He went on the defensive. He made it about himself. How many dads out there would shut out a son who is actively trying to incorporate them into their life? I mean, he expects me to believe that I was “ripped” away from him but just dismisses my attempt to reconnect because a bunch of people he doesn’t know and won’t ever meet had some harsh words to say about him? Woooooooosh!

Those last two sentences will probably linger with me for some time. “So you can move on with your good life, chapter closed.” Not so fast. You DO NOT get to go out that way. Let me be clear here, “move on” is not an option because I never stopped moving. My life has been and will be good regardless of whether you are in it or not. You are just an un-credited extra in the movie of my life who refused to show up for his big audition. That’s it. And don’t try to ride out on your white horse and act like you are doing this for me. You know what I want. I’ve spent far too long trying to milk out some kind of relationship with you. You’ve made your choice, and thus I’ve made mine. When I think about you from time to time during the rest of my life, I will always be reminded of those two words that you left me with. The door that kept closing in my face every time I tried to peek through has officially been locked. And dead-bolted. Sealed. Boarded up. Those two words tell me all I need to know.

The end.

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