Author Archives: admin

admin

About admin

In the process of starting a new grassroots movement in downtown Vancouver, Washington. In the process of fighting terminal cancer. In the process of learning to be a better neighbor, husband, father, Christ follower, and friend. As initiators of the Grassroots Conspiracy we hope to be a part of a movement of hope, imagination, and transformation in our developing downtown neighborhoods.

Happy Mother’s Day Jessica

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How in the world am I to write this blog? Yesterday I slogged through telling my mom how much I loved her. That was hard (and rewarding). But to attempt to capture today my love for my wife–for the mother of my children–kill me now. There are not enough words, I don’t have enough words, there aren’t enough tissues to catch my tears as I sit beside her in bed attempting to write.

The problem, and at some point this might be considered unhealthy, is that there’s no me without her. Our lives, our identities, our stories are completely enmeshed. We literally only have a few stories that are not shared. Our lives have and will continue to be done together in every sense of the word until we’re forced apart. What’s clearly so hard is that we genuinely never thought that we’d be forced apart. Not like this. Not this early.

Anyway, I realize that I wrote this blog (the blog that I’m fighting against writing all over again right now, the blog that attempts yet again to tell her how amazing and wonderful and loved she is…) a little over a week ago too, so today instead of re-writing that blog I will focus on why my wife is quite possibly the most amazing parent you’ll ever run into. No joke. No hyperbole. She really is that amazing.

Jess truly, above all else, values people. She values children. She values them as human beings, as people with dignity, with inherent worth, and as creatures filled with life and significance. This alone sets her far above the rest of us. To Jess children are not things to be controlled, they are beautiful short people needing to be empowered and listened to. Jess spends much of her time cultivating an environment in our home where our kids feel safe and loved, where they know that their feelings are valid, and where they are confident in exploring new ideas. Rather than seeking control Jessica invites our children to look for answers and to explore ideas that they’re intrigued by. She’s always encouraging and inviting them into new experiences…and it’s a beautiful thing.

One defining thing about my wife, something that not only defines her as a mom but as a human being is that she makes every moment special and unique. If she makes pancakes they’re going to be in shape of dinosaurs. If the sets the table there will be little notes to say why our kids are special. If she’s showering while the kids eat she’ll place all their food on special trays and setup a mini-picnic upstairs. If we go on road trips she works tirelessly to think of games, activities, and little gifts that’ll make the time go by. If she does something she’s going to transform it into something special and specifically tailored to the person(s) she’s caring for. ‘Cause the thing is: Jess notices everything. With her nothing is wasted. No moment is left behind because she’s always attentive to what is happening, to how this moment can be a blessing to her children, to her husband, or to another. She remembers what you love, she remembers what you said about this that or the other, she remembers how special something made you feel and she’ll remember it next time so as to bless you with it. She’s always remembering her children and how to love them more fully. Jones and India’s feelings, thoughts, opinions, reactions, etc. are never wasted or forgotten. They are stored up and dwelt on, they are remembered and built on, and they are used to care for them in whatever ways are available as time moves on. As a person who does not pay good attention to much, I view this as a nearly miraculous gift!

Jess fills Christmas stockings better than any person i’ve ever seen. Enough said.

Jess knows and loves children’s books. Our kids have hundreds and hundreds thanks to her…which I should say is directly correlated to our children having a love of books…thanks to her.

My children have always eaten healthy thanks to her.

My kids have feeling journals thanks to her. How cool is that?

Jess makes my kids awesome treats: gluten free chocolate chip cookies that are to die for are at the top of the list.

While Jess’ forte is in creating special moments, the last year especially has been filled with monotony. Care-taking is not a job that leaves much space for uniqueness and creativity. And, again, while I am attempting to not make this blog about how amazing Jess is towards me, it is hard not to pause here to say that the way she has stepped up to care for me in my sickness has been nothing short of perfect. She has carried our family. She has stepped into the boring and not-so-exciting duties of taking care of a sick dad and showing compassion for emotionally exhausted children. Because the reality is that our children are not the same today that they were a year and a half ago (understatement of the year right?). Behaviorally they have regressed, emotionally they’re more volatile, India is back in pull ups, Jones is no longer able to regulate (there are some special needs here I’m referring to), and Jess is the one who tirelessly works to love us all through this. In the midst of my sickness Jess has worked countless hours figuring out Jones’ health care (he’s on separate insurance than the rest of us), she was the one who made sure our kids were in play therapy, she’s the one who takes Jones to his occupational therapy, she’s the one who makes sure they’re still seeing a dentist, she’s the one who has had to maneuver through our kids’ newly discovered fruit allergy (not sure I can communicate how big of a ‘maneuver’ this is/was), she’s the one who is making sure that ALL of us are having our practical needs met. It is too much for one mom to carry…and yet she does it gracefully and without ever (ever!) complaining about it.

I’ve got to stop. Again, like I said yesterday about my own mother, I could write on and on. I have been blessed to have two (three if you count my daughter) beautiful women in my life who far exceed a persons normal expectation for love and care. And I could literally write paragraph after paragraph ’till my tears (yes, the ones that are still flowing) dried up.

Above all Jess makes people feel loved…and it’s because she’s truly a person filled with love. Jess is one of the most capable people I know. She can do anything she puts her mind to (I really mean that). It terrifies me to think of leaving her behind, to think of her being a single mom, to think of her without me–but it’s not in any way, shape, or form because I think she can’t handle it. No, I’ve got no question that like everything else she touches, she will invite God’s love, grace, and imagination into her parenting as a single mom of our two amazing children. The reason it terrifies me is just because I know how hard it is going to be…and I know how hard she is already working…and I just want her to receive some rest. She deserves a rest. In every way Jess is capable, in every way Jess is built to succeed and to be a conduit of love and compassion for children who are in crisis and suffering. But does it have to be so?! Like I said in the beginning: Jess is my partner. There is no me without her, there is no her without me, our children only know an us…and until the us is just her I will continue to celebrate the gift God has given me of doing life and parenthood with the most beautiful, gracious, loving, compassionate, creative, memory-making, generous, hard-working mother I’ve ever seen. One day she’ll have to do it without me–and when she does she’ll do it beautifully (as she does in every avenue of life)–but until then she’s stuck with me!

I love you Jess and I feel guilty for being blessed beyond all others to walk this path with you. Jones and India are the luckiest children to have such an amazing mom. Please don’t ever ever forget it. You are incredibly special.

Love you Mom…

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I don’t care if it’s cliche, I love my mama. This morning my sister and I will take her out for breakfast in North Portland to my new favorite place (it’ll be her favorite too i’m sure). Normally Mother’s Day is a whirlwind of activity, church gatherings to plan, the mother of my children to care for, my mother to care for, my grandma to care for, my wife’s mother to care for, etc. Lots of planning and figuring out and all that jazz. This year we’ve just returned from being with most of those moms in Disneyland and we’re choosing simplicity above all else. So in a few hours I’ll go on a quiet date, just the three of us–dad was uninvited. Tomorrow I’ll be at home where there will be a quiet meal around the table with my wife, me, and our kids (don’t worry, my wife won’t be cooking). Quiet. Simple. But together.

But don’t let the simplicity of all this fool you. My wife is the most amazing mom I’ve ever seen in action and my mom is the most perfect mom I could have ever wanted or needed. Today is my mom’s day, so let me share a bit about her with you.

I grew up in a very safe home. I don’t mean safe from guns and violence (though those are both completely true) but I always felt loved. Always. There was never ever a doubt that my mom cared for me, wanted the best for me, and would do anything to meet my needs along the way (which I should clarify means not meeting every want of course). I remember her as a mom who was willing to do what it took to engage her children, to invite us into learning and to free play. The simple fact alone that she was involved enough in our schooling to know that it was best for us to be pulled out and to be home-schooled at a time when it was literally on the edge of being illegal (am I right?). My mom was a pioneer in many senses of the word–not only did she occasionally dress up like a pioneer (Tara do you have those pictures?) and have us do the same but I’m realizing that I think it’s her fault that as I’ve grown older I’ve been drawn to the life of a guinea pig in many ways. Exploring new ideas and questioning the status quo is something that I’m realizing I learned from her–what a gift!

My mom was always attentive–to the point that she stressed and worried constantly about being inattentive. As the youngest child of a youth minister’s kid I got dragged around to every youth group event for all of my life…and yet I was never ever forgotten or ignored. I had a special and unique birthday party during literally every Summer youth group mission trip. I remember a season when my mom chose not to go to youth group activities and instead the two of us would go to McDonalds together on dates, spending time together away from the crowds. She worked hard to make sure her children felt special and cared for, unique, and above all loved. What more can a child ask for?

My mom is a learner. She’s always learning. I have vivid memories of her Bibles over the years–as a matter of fact I could sit here and tell you about each one, about their color, their type, and even the type of binding that they had. They were always tattered and well used. With any book (especially the Bible) she’s a terrible highlighter. If something isn’t starred, underlined, or highlighted it must be pretty boring–’cause everything else is covered! For most of my memory my mom would be awake before us, reading the story of God, highlighting, and journaling through it. She doesn’t just take in information but she’s constantly seeking integration–what does this have to do with my life, how can I be a better lover of people, etc.? She’s always been a learner and it is something that I’ve not only carried with me into adulthood but crave to pass onto my children. I love that about her.

I could write so much more! I could write about waking up each morning to the sound of oatmeal bowls hitting the table. I could write about memorizing scripture together in the mornings. I could write about defining family road trips to Yellowstone, Canada, and Californian. I could write about her stranding me in the Yosemite river. I could write about the sacrifice and gift of homeschooling and what that meant for our family. I could write about her love of snow and the fun we’d all have anticipating its coming. I could write about her bravery in entering into counseling and paving the way for her family to do the same. I could write about how she’s cared for my wife as a daughter and what that has meant for me as a son. I could write about partnering with my mom in church planting and what it’s like to become friends with your parents. I could write…so so much more! But at this point it’s gotten to that awkward moment where my wife is beginning to wake next to me and the tears that are streaming down my face will make for a strange waking!

Mom I hope you know beyond everything else that I love you and I’m so grateful that you were the person who raised me, Jen, and Tara. What more could we ask for than to know beyond everything else that we are and were loved children, and that we are and were cared for, that you will and would do anything for us? Time and time again you’ve proved all this to be true. Thank you. I love you.

Life has not been what we expected or anticipated in more ways than just the ridiculousness of the last year. “Surprising” and “ridiculous” might just be the words to define our lives in general, let alone this last year. The journey we’ve all been on has sucked in many ways and I’m tempted to end this note of appreciation and gratitude with an expletive or two…and I think that you’d agree and get it…I think that of all people you’d see that as a fitting end to this post! You’d get it ’cause it’d be absolutely ridiculous for this to be my last Mother’s Day to tell you that I love you. It’s just not right. So…just in case…just in case I get another year or seventeen, I’ll leave this blog post polished up and decent! I love you so much mom and I want to tell you thank you for your gift of taking care of me, my sisters, my wife, and my kids. Thank you for your example as a woman of God, as a learner, as a pioneer, and as a lover of people.

See you in a few hours for breakfast.

Touched by an Angel…on the way from Orlando

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Normally when I speak about an angel in my life it’s going to be my wife or my daughter. In every way they are my angels: sent from God as carriers or messengers of love–yep, that’s India and Jess to a T. But in this blog post there’s another woman that I’ve got to celebrate, another woman that God brought into our lives for but a moment–but a moment that continues to make a major difference.

I never would have guessed the war stories that her body had endured. She sat next to us on the plane ride from Phoenix to Orlando two weeks ago and seemed as normal as can be. But she isn’t normal–very far from it actually. She’s as different as they come.

Her story is not necessarily mine to share and I hesitate to share any of it ’cause I’m confident that i won’t do it justice. So I will do my best as long as you promise me to follow it up by reading her own words and I’ll attempt to stick to my own experiences with her so that I don’t botch too much the beauty of her story as it really unfolded.

Terlisa was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of twenty-nine while a few months pregnant. That was thirteen years ago. At different moments along the way she’s been told that she’s terminal, that she’s only had a few weeks to live, and that she’s walking dead. She prepared herself to never see her girls grow up. She prepared herself to die. She’s written the goodbye letters, made the goodbye scrapbooks, etc. But thirteen years later she’s still ticking. Thirteen years!

But it’s not that easy of a story. Thirteen years of ‘surviving cancer’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You see, she’s not cancer free. She’s not a cancer survivor. She’s been on chemo for virtually thirteen years straight. Can you imagine what that’s like? Her body has been ravaged by chemo and radiation to the point that she’s had to have hip replacement surgery, she’s in chronic pain, and I’m sure a whole host of other war stories along the way that she didn’t share or that I’m not remembering. Her cancer hasn’t gone away either, in fact it’s spread. If I remember right her cancer is now in her brain, in her bones, and essentially everywhere in her body. She is still dying of cancer.

…and you’d never know it by looking at her or listening to her. Every day she leaves her house she puts on her heals. When she goes to the clinic for treatment she brings them cookies. She has a smile on her face as she shares her stories–though, I should pause to say that she is not foolishly ignorant when talking about the reality of her life and story. She spoke honestly and candidly about ‘miracle cures’, about the pain of hope, about the pain of the journey, the losses along the way, the loss of relationships, the loss of freedom, the loss of life, loss…Terlisa understands loss in a very very real sense and she is not shy about speaking into this loss. But she smiles (a lot), and she laughs (a lot), and she shares her stories freely and powerfully (and has in fact written some of her stories down as a part of a book called Unbreakable).

So we sat there on the plane and traded war stories. I wish I could have been more present and asked more questions but I was in the beginning of my own mini-battle of flying with an ear infection. Regardless, Jess and I left that plane inspired encouraged. How could we not? What are the chances that of the hundreds of people who could have sat down next to the Dreaded Cripple Couple it was Terlisa? And what are the chances that half way through the flight she happened to mention that she had terminal cancer? And what are the chances…we’ll, you get the point. We sat next to a messenger from God, a woman God sent to invite us to enter even more fully into the pain of terminal cancer and to walk that tension between hope for healing, hope despite death, and a hope that’s rooted with courage and bravery. At a moment when we had literally only days earlier found out that I had three to six months to live we were blessed to sit next to her. What are the chances?

See what I love most about Terlisa’s story is that it’s not a success story (sorry Terlisa! I wish it were and I hope it becomes one!). Don’t get me wrong, I want it to be a success story as we all define success: physical healing. But to hear a story of hope, to hear a positive story of a cancer surviver/fighter that is not tidy, that does not end in ‘and so I’ve been cancer free for five years’ is incredibly refreshing for me. There’s something comforting in the messiness of it. It gives me one more narrative to hold onto, one more paradigm to put into my bag, one more story that reminds me of the messiness of hope and survival.

I don’t want to have cancer thirteen years down the road…but I would love to be around in thirteen years! My diagnosis is very different from her’s and my current condition is very different and my story is going to be very different. But I could not help but walk away from our time on that airplane with my chest puffed out just a bit. I couldn’t help but walk away feeling a need for a bit more bravery, to face my struggles with more courage, strength, and dignity. I may not throw on any high healed shoes like her and I might not bake any cookies, but I do want to be like Terlisa in how I willingly and boldly face my struggles as they come. She never pretended like it was en easy path, but it was a path that she chose to walk down with grace and strength–I want that to be true of myself. Thank you Terlisa for allowing God to use you as a messenger of hope to Jess and I. I’m confident that your story is and will be told and retold–and I can only imagine the ripple effects that your story has had in your community, in your world, and in the worlds that you’ve intersected with in the last thirteen years! Thank you so very much!

If you’d like to follow more of Terlisa’s story (and you should) you can go to her website here: http://terlisafights.com/

 

Good Vs. Evil

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You may not believe it but I’m not actually a big Disney buff. Our family does Disneyland well, it’s become an important place in our story, but I’m not actually into Disney as a whole. But regardless of everything, regardless of their business practices, regardless of their enormous piles of sweatshirts and bling, regardless of all of that there is one thing that Disney has always done well and got right: good vs. evil.

From early on Walt Disney had a keen ability to capture the whole good vs. evil narrative. Maleficent, Ursula, the evil queen from Snow White, Scar, Jafar, dragons, evil step mothers…Disney knows how to personify evil and they know how to capture that battle between the two. Last night, for the first time since high school, I was able to watch Fantasmic (thanks to John and Dawnette who saved us amazing spots!) which is essentially a water show that captures this good vs. evil narrative. (I don’t want to ruin it for you…but Mickey wins). It’s an awesome show and I was so glad that not only was I able to see it but my kids were too…and they loved it!

But it got me thinking–do you buy into this reality? Do you buy into a world that is defined by a massive good vs. evil battle? For most of my life I think I would have answered “yes”

But I’m not sure that I do. I think that the framework of “good vs. evil” is too simplistic and makes it too easy to compartmentalize the world as I experience it. If I only have two categories to place things in “right” and “wrong”, “good” and “evil”, “my team” or “the other team” then I always know where I stand, I always know where you stand, and I’m always at a vantage point to make that judgement call. I mean, what person is not able to easily observe that Scar is evil to the core? It’s simple! It’s easy. But is it accurate?

Life is just not that simple! Is It? Is cancer evil? Clearly! But at the same time I’m seeing the story of me getting cancer literally transform the world around me. So does it go in the ‘evil’ box? If it does belong in the ‘evil’ box then I have to at least observe that God is willing to dip his hand into the ‘evil’ box, pull things out, squeeze some goodness out of them, and then drop them back in. Which then begs the question: how totally evil was it in the first place? (I still tend to think it’s pretty evil-as evil as you can get-but I also feel compelled to recognize the messiness of even this stance)

And what about people? I can’t place people into the evil box because that defeats my whole foundational belief that each person is originally created in the image of God. People are not evil–they’re beautiful. Tarnished maybe. Broken maybe. Making terrible choices maybe. But not evil. There’s got to be hope even for Ursula right?

What about in the spirit world? What about this idea of Satan, of demonic forces, of spiritual beings that are opposed to God and to who He is and what He represents (goodness, et al.)? At the very least we’ve got to concede that these things/beings are evil in every way right? Well, to be perfectly honest I don’t think I’m up for the task of fleshing out this topic while sitting in the Disneyland hotel with my family asleep around me. I’m certain I’d have to think too hard and it’d require way too much of it. I can say that my understanding of the spirit world is not as cut and dry and clear as I once thought it was. At one point in my life I could have explained everything to you as if it was obvious, cut and dry, clear information that God, the Bible, and your mom had spelled out in black and white letters. I no longer see things that simply…nor do I claim to have a mastery on the topic as I once probably ignorantly would have claimed! Is the Devil and idea or a literal being? Is hell a tangible location or more of an absence of realty? Metaphors or plain speech? I’m not sure!! But let me at least see if I can’t rip off a few ideas that I think I’d defend in my Disneyland bed:

  • The world is broken. I mean, come on, we can’t look around and not recognize that things are not as they should be. We may disagree as to why or how (is it ’cause Satan and his minions are actively fighting to hurt and destroy? Maybe.) but I’d press hard to find someone that wouldn’t recognize that things are broken.
  • God fights for you. The idea of the incarnation (big awkward word to say that Jesus became a person with all of its messiness–he went to the bathroom, had to shower, ate olives, etc.) if it says anything it tells us that God is willing to do whatever it takes to bring us hope in the midst of a broken world.
  • God gives his Spirit. Whether or not one believes in a whole system of spiritual forces, of angels, demons, etc. I think it’s pretty clear and makes a lot of sense that God has promised His Spirit to the world–that Jesus made the claim that he needed to go, to be done with his activity on our behalf SO THAT his Spirit could come and work from within his people. There are huge implications to all this that I don’t claim to understand, but I think it’s a promise worth holding on to and I think they’re some implications that are worth pursuing!
  • God wins. Again, I’m not claiming I fully understand what he’s fighting against, but I do know that there’s no question, beyond a shadow of a doubt, without hesitation–God’s got this one in the bag. That’s what this whole idea of “the kingdom of God” that you’ll often see me write about is referring to. The kingdom of God is that ultimate reality where God wins and where everything is finally as he intended it. It’s the reality that we are invited to live into today while knowing that it won’t be fully realized until God chooses to restore all things to their original purpose and intended beauty. But he does win. Brokenness isn’t our ultimate reality.

So what if instead of holding onto a “Good vs. Evil” framework we instead cling to a much more messy and undefinable best vs. better view? Or one that invites us to view things between a life vs. death framework? Does that work? Does Disney have space for that? If we began to make our decisions and to view our existence through lens of good vs. best or best vs. better will we just fall into a sea of nothingness with no rudder to guide us? (I’m seriously wondering here. I’m not asking a rhetorical question that I’m now going to answer) I’m confident that good vs. evil is often and usually too black and white and simplistic to provide us a framework for healthy living that is marked by a way of love because the God that I’m coming to know too often takes ‘evil’ and turns it into something amazing. I think that there are things that lead to death, or said better, there are things that do not produce life–and I think those things are worth opposing and fighting against. We could call those things evil if that’s necessary.

I wish everything were as simple as Fantasmic. The dragon is obviously evil–he has no dreams of one day raising a family, he wasn’t abused as a child thus leading to his destructive lifestyle. Mickey is obviously completely good. Mickey doesn’t have a backstory of sometimes yelling at his wife, he’s never clocked in early at Disneyland before he was supposed to. And in the end everything in Fantasmic is as it should be: Mickey wins by doing an awkward dance with his wand and a few sparklers. It’s easy. It’s simple. It’s good vs. evil and good wins.

I wish life were that simple. Trust me. I’d be doing an awkward sparkler dance right now and rid me of this cancer! I’d zap it on those evil people who clearly were not created in God’s image. It’d be easy. Simple. Black and white. Good vs. Evil…

If only…

Come What May

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As I posted on Facebook, yesterday we were filmed by an amazing crew of people in an attempt to capture some of my families life together. In just a few hours they recorded the four of us doing some of our favorite things together–playing with Legos, playing board games, eating, tickling, etc. It was fun and I’m excited to see what they do with the footage. The movie is going to be set to music (here’s one of their videos that captures the style) and we have the taks of figuring out what song to use.

A hard task indeed.

My first thought was about our wedding. I’ve only seriously sung in public one time. At our wedding. My sister and I sang “Come What May” from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack as the groomsmen and bridesmaids walked down the isle. Can you imagine? Can you imagine a tribute video of our family with those lyrics?

Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Too much. Too painful. Yeah. No.

Who would have thought that nearly nine years ago this song would be so significant–so telling–so…accurate. It breaks my heart to think of how painful those words are for my wife, for the person who will live through my dying day, for the person who truly has to hold onto those words “come what may”. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect person to spend the last nine years with. In reality, actually, nine years is only the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea how enmeshed our lives have been. At the age of seven Jess journaled about her “hunk” (me). Her brother and I were best friends all growing up. Our families did life together through homeschooling and church. At the age of fifteen and sixteen (after her brother moved away) the two of us became best friends…and it never changed. Virtually every memory of life we have is a shared memory. We genuinely can’t imagine life apart because we’ve never done it. She’s my best friend, she’s been my nurse for the last year, she’s been my chauffeur, she’s my counselor, she’s been patient with me, she’s been constantly present for my children, she’s helped me to laugh, she’s allowed me to cry, she’s done everything that could ever be done to walk this path with me. There’s a reason why I I always refer to “our” doctors and “our” cancer…because it is, and always has been–us.

Come what may.

I sang another song at our wedding. It was a surprise to my new bride, it was a joke (please tell me that it’s obviously a joke!), and it is one of our most cherished memories. This song won’t be in our video–but there’s no better way to end this blog than to end it smiling. There’s no person that I have laughed with more than Jess. We laugh well, we laugh often, and…we’re just pretty funny together. I wish I could end this blog by somehow seriously capturing a lyric from the song below, but it’s just too cheesy and it ain’t gonna happen!