Challenger

On January 28, 1986, Americans sat in front of televisions in their homes, at work, or in other places and watched as the space shuttle Challenger exploded just minutes after lift-off. America’s edge in the ‘space race’ suddenly was in doubt, and the dreams of so many young kids who wanted to be astronauts were vanquished in fear that we’d never go back to space again. There was something mystical about America’s journey to space, and to have a program that many people saw as invulnerable and a symbol of American hope go up in a ball of flame stunned us all. The lives of the Challenger astronauts were lost, but we all fell into the ocean with them.

I remember that day. I’ll never forget hearing the news while on a California playground. I remember coming home that night and watching on the news with fascination as videos of the launch played over and over again. I couldn’t fathom what happened. It shocked me to my core. I loved the space program. I loved reading about it, and I certainly never forgot the night when all of us sat as a family around the television and watched “Space Camp.” I wanted to go to space. That was my dream, and for a moment it was dashed.

On February 10, 1986, Time Magazine published an article by Ed Magnuson that held me in my chair. I pored over the article, grieving in my heart over what had happened. Of course, the cover of the issue had the image of the explosion on it, and I couldn’t look away. What had happened? Months later, the magazine published a report explaining the Roger’s Commission’s findings about the shuttle explosion. As the article explained the Commission’s findings, I sat engrossed doing all that I could in my eight-year-old brain to understand what had happened. When I set the article down, I realized something. My dream hadn’t died; in fact, I was fascinated even more by space, space travel, the stars and planets, and anything else that might be out there. The Challenger tragedy did something in me that I couldn’t fathom: it focused me on the wonders of what might be out there.

I went to school and started reading everything I could about space and the planets. I sat in science class in awe of what we learned about the rings of Jupiter and the ice planet named Pluto. I pondered the possibilities of life on Mars, and what might really be going on in that big glowing ball in the sky known as the Sun. Years later, I’m still fascinated. I love to watch the night sky and search for its wonders. It still fascinates me to watch a shuttle launch. It represents humanity’s drive to shoot for the stars, and to resiliently press on. The destruction of the Challenger shuttle and the deaths of its crew were not in vain. They galvanized me and people like me to keep dreaming even when things go wrong. Sometimes we will fail, but we must try again. It’s about living the dream and pursuing what God made us for, and when we fail we just need try again. On September 29, 1988, a long thirty-three months after the Challenger disaster, space shuttle Discovery returned to space and again carried the hopes of the American nation to see the stars. Sometimes it’s not about our successes, but about our failures and how we respond to them.

The Line of the King

I was studying Esther this morning and found an interesting verse that I hadn’t caught before. In chapter two, verse five, it says:

Now there was in the citadel of Susa a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin, named Mordecai son of Jair, the son of Shimei, the son of Kish. (NIV)

This verse caught my attention because the former king Saul was a Benjamite and the son of Kish. I did some looking around on Wikipedia and found that the Talmud, a translated text from Aramiac of the Hebrew Bible, lists Saul in Mordecai’s list. Now portions of the Talmud are noted to be embellished or apocryphal, so I’m not going to outright say that Mordecai is a direct descendant of Saul. I’ll let the scholars answer that for me, but at the very least Mordecai is a distant relation to Saul. I do believe that the Bible is purposeful of everything it has written in it and therefore I believe what the Talmud says and that Mordecai was a direct descendant of King Saul.

The interesting note to all of this is that most of Saul’s family was destroyed after his death. They were basically cursed, and yet here is a man, hundreds of years later, who is related to Saul and quite possibly in his line, that was used by God to save His people in a foreign land. How graceful is our God to not turn his back on Saul’s descendants forever, but to use them and bring them hope and a future? As a result, God brings about a measure of redemption for Saul’s line, maybe even for the sake of Jonathan. Who knows?

(Reference to Mordecai on Wikipedia.)

News, Notes, and Other Stuff

Just a few notes from a rather eventful weekend:

A. The shooting in Arizona is disturbing on many levels. Already many citizens complain that our Representatives and Senators are distant from them, and now I have to think that elected officials will be even more concerned about setting up in town hall-like settings. It’s dangerous.

It’s sad that our society has come to this. Now we have mentally unstable people who resort to violence in an effort to get their point across. It happened in 1994 with McVeigh, 2000 with Columbine, and now 2011 with an assassination attempt on a Congresswoman. What can be done to stem the tide? What can be done to stop senseless actions that serve no purpose?

By most accounts, Rep. Giffords has been a good congresswoman for her district, and it’s sad that now she battles for her life. It’s even worse that other bystanders gave up their lives, too. A nine-year old girl? A federal judge? Others whose only crime was simply being there? It’s a sad weekend for our country. I don’t care if you’re Democrat or Republican, Tea-Party or Ultra liberal, moderate or conservative. None of that should matter now. All that matters is the lives lost, and hearts broken by violence.

B. Jenn and her dad did a great job working in the house last week. They managed to paint the big loft-hole up from the living room ceiling to the bedroom and the entry hallway/stairwell in our condo. What makes it particularly special is why she did it: she did it for me. The main reason she wanted to paint was to help make the condo more of a home for me. She wanted something a little more “us.” I’ve yet to take part in the painting itself as she and her dad had things well in hand by the time I’d get home, but they did a great job. They worked hard. I look forward to helping Jenn with the office, two bathrooms, kitchen, and our bedroom in the coming weekends. It’ll be slow with me studying and all, but we’ll get it done.

C. The Buckeyes’ win in the Sugar Bowl last week was bittersweet for me. I’m not one of these people who are crushing the Buckeyes’ football program, but it does disappoint me that the five suspended players were allowed to play. I’m glad they do face punishment, but I don’t like that Ohio State had to throw their compliance department under the bus to protect players that knew better. I don’t like how some people are trashing OSU’s program as a whole. The program itself is not guilty, as far as we can tell, of paying players or paying for players. It’s not guilty of any recruiting violations that we are aware of. Yet I saw some people calling for major penalties to be leveled against the program. Really? Seriously? The players themselves made the mistakes, and low-class mistakes that they were, the OSU football program headed by Gene Smith and Jim Tressel did not commit those mistakes. The mistake I think they did make was allowing the kids to play in the bowl. Still, they are suspended for five games. I hope they all come back to school and keep their word to Coach Tressel, but we’ll see.

D. Great playoff games this past weekend, especially on Saturday.

E. School starts tomorrow. I’ve spent the past couple weeks trying to relax and get my mind ready, but it doesn’t feel like I am. I better get ready in a hurry, though! The next couple of months are going to be tough. The three classes I’m signed up for my first semester at Xavier are ENG 525, Shakespeare (oh boy), ENG 550 Images of America (modern film in literature, which, I come to find out, is not really all that modern), and ENG 672 Modern Drama. This means tons of reading, probably lots of papers, and loads of time. I’m still working full-time so I’ve got a full plate, and I admit it’s intimidating.

F. Jenn and I both have re-committed ourselves to eating properly and managing a good healthy weight. We both have marathons to plan for this year, and she has her Ironman race in November, so there is a lot of work to do this year. Here’s to making dreams come true.

Unexpected

Today’s been one of those days where I just haven’t felt right. Actually, I haven’t felt right since the day before Christmas. Christmas has never been one of those joyous times of year for me, and this year was no exception. A good portion of it was my fault, and even though I’ve apologized for my mistakes and asked Christ for forgiveness, I haven’t been myself since. New Year’s came and went with little excitement, and this morning, while Jenn and my father-in-law are at home painting the house, I left for work feeling a bit lost and unloved. I continued to feel this way through lunch, but it just so happened that a little brightness came my way soon after.

The first call I took after getting back from lunch was an elderly man asking for information about him and his wife’s accounts. I verified their information, helped them with their issue, and at the end of the call something the old man said something I didn’t expect. He said, “You have a nice afternoon, and Jesus loves you.” A frustrating and rather depressing day changed completely from that moment on. Sometimes just being reminded that my savior loves me is all I need to know that everything is right in the world. It amazes me that God finds ways even in every day situations to tell us He loves us.

Thoughts – November 30, 2010

I haven’t blogged in awhile, but I figure it’s time to write something. It’s an interesting world we live in this holiday season. The economy is fluttering, sports politics are growing more confounding, and yes, the threat of war is becoming more of a reality than I think people realize. Here’s what’s been on my mind:

1. North Korea – In Bill Clinton’s autobiography “My Life,” he listed North Korea as a higher threat than Iraq. Many people didn’t take that seriously, but I think, in hindsight, he was right. This year the North Koreans allegedly sunk a South Korean ship, and this past weekend they fired on a South Korean island, injuring and killing civilians. They say American-South Korean exercises in the region are provoking war, but in reality, it’s they who are consistently acting to provoke war in the Koreas. It should not surprise anyone if war breaks out at this point, and anyone who thinks the United States would not be a part of it is crazy.
2. Speaking of North Korea, I think the whole WikiLeaks thing is ridiculous and disturbing. What these clowns at WikiLeaks think to be telling the truth is really undermining diplomatic relations with other countries. What good does that do? I hope the Americans responsible for leaking the information are finally found and prosecuted under the maximum strength of the law. There’s a reason these documents were classified. It’s repulsive to me to see a group so carelessly release information like this.
3. President Obama proposed freezing the pay of federal workers yesterday for two years. I wouldn’t have a problem with this if President Obama, congress, and all the employees in his cabinet also had their pay frozen. Their ability to use federal funds to take vacations on the government’s tab should be halted as well. The rest of us have to pay for our own vacations, so should the President and the rest of the government regardless of what party they are in. However, none of this should be happening until Congress cuts back spending first. People shouldn’t be forced to live by a standard because the government that is supposed to be serving us overspends drastically. Fix your own house first, and then ask others to make changes. It doesn’t make sense to place burdens on others when you haven’t solved the root issue. Stop spending. This, combined with stopping Bush-era tax cuts, would hurt the President, not help him. The President and the members of the United States government need to stop treating its citizens as though we are here to serve them. On the contrary, they are elected to serve us.
4. I’ll be very surprised if the United States wins its bid to host the 2022 World Cup on Thursday. They have the best infrastructure to host it, and it made FIFA a ton of money when it hosted the 1994 World Cup, but I honestly believe there is a lot of political garbage going on in the background with FIFA. I’ve come to realize that FIFA is about as corrupt as the IOC is, and that’s not saying much. Don’t be surprised to see Qatar hosting the cup in 2022. It’s a shame really because to everyone’s shock and amazement, the country that spent the most money traveling to South Africa this year for the World Cup was the United States. There is no doubt in my mind that Americans would spend large amounts of their hard-earned money on a World Cup hosted on their soil.
5. I failed to reach my goal of writing fifty thousand words for my novel in November. I just got too busy, and to be honest, I’ve really struggled with writer’s block of late. Trying to weave a good story together is harder than I thought. And actually, I fear it will be terrible (though my wife continues to have confidence in my ability to make this project a success).
6. A friend of mine gave her life back to the Lord recently. I must say I’m so excited to see God work on someone’s heart. If we ever doubt that God is real or maybe debate over His love for us, we only need to take a careful look at what He can do with the human heart. His miracles never cease.
7. Married life is among the most wonderful gifts God can give, but I have to admit, it’s frustrating. But it’s not Jenn that frustrates me. She’s not perfect by any means; she is human after all, but I love her the way she is. However, I’m frustrated with myself. I don’t understand why I do some of the things I do, and I struggle to grasp how she can keep loving a guy that has all these internal issues that go on all the time.

I'll Race You

Yesterday, I competed in the Cincinnati Half-Marathon. It was my first half-marathon, and to be honest, while some people say they love this stuff, I have to say: it hurt! What makes finishing this race so special is that I’ve always struggled to finish projects. I’ve been talking about running a marathon for years and I’ve never competed in one. I’ve always wanted to write a book, and as of yet, I’ve never finished one. I’m a starter, but rarely a finisher. It’s a stigma that I’ve had to deal with for quite a long time, and as a result, I’ve lost plenty of confidence in myself. So how did I become a finisher?

The race had plenty of ups and downs. The goal for the race was to average a ten-minute mile. If I could average ten-minute miles, then I’d finish in two hours and ten minutes. Actually, my goal was to beat CNNSI NFL writer Peter King’s time of two hours and sixteen minutes. I figured if I couldn’t beat a fifty-three-year-old sports writer who’s struggled with his weight and dealt with heart issues, then I had no business running the race. This is meant as no disrespect towards Peter King; in fact, I love his work. But I used him as a motivator. The race started with a group of one thousand eight hundred runners cramped together like sardines (not fun), and in the first mile I settled in to a nice easy run. I just stuck with the pack. Just after the second mile marker, I got my first water stop, and that’s where I had trouble catching my breath for the first time. As I slowed to get water, some people stopped dead in front of me. I almost ran over this little hundred-pound lady that stopped in front of me for water. When I started running again, the combination of coming to that stop plus the cup of water suddenly had me sweating and out of breath. I ran through it and tried to calm down. I hit my first hill soon after that. It was during this point that I found myself wondering if I could finish this race.

At the top of the hill I found myself running through the center of downtown Cincinnati, and with all the scenery I got my pace back and settled down. I started passing people; in fact, I passed a lot of people between miles two and five. Things were smooth: I had no pain, I was breathing well, and I found space between myself and other runners. When we made our turn onto Pete Rose Way at Sawyer Point, I cracked jokes with some of the supporters and yelled out “I love you” to Jenn as I passed her. It was smooth sailing! Well, it was smooth sailing until I got to the mile six marker. I started getting strong pain in my left foot along my pinky toe and up that side of the foot. I had to slow my pace. At this point, I was working on my first gel packet and I was doing well with my breathing, but the pain in my foot was overwhelming. When I passed the mile nine marker, I was very close to walking. Off to my right, a woman pulled off to the side and started stretching out her hamstring. I encouraged her to keep pushing, and when I did that, it seemed like my own pain became easier.

When I reached the mile ten marker, the pain in my foot was gone, but it was too late to pick up the pace. People were passing me then. I was passed by a man pushing a wheelchair, a large amount of middle-aged woman, and a power walker. It was humbling to be passed by people I never expected to be passed by, but I kept going. As I reached the mile eleven marker, I was going through my last gel pack, and I was still keeping my breathing in order. I felt good enough to try and finish strong, and I tried pushing off my left leg to get some speed. It didn’t happen. My left calf cramped up slightly and I spent the next mile and a half trying to find a way to pick up a little speed, but the calf was telling me “no.” With only half a mile left, I just resigned myself to finishing and did what I could to finish. My legs wanted nothing to do with running at this point. When I passed Montgomery Inn, I started seeing others who’d already finished cheering us on. There were more and more of them the closer I got to the finish line. At the finish line, Jenn was waiting for me, and once I crossed I ran into a wall of other runners who’d just finished. I was barely able to stand and a little woozy, but it was over.

This afternoon as I ponder this race and the races we all run, it really puts life in perspective. We all have moments in our lives that it’s hard to breathe and we have to find a way to settle in. We all have our uphill climbs that we traverse in hopes of something better. We have good days when everything goes well and we pass others by. We deal with pain that sometimes cripples us, but when we encourage others suddenly our own pain seems more manageable. Sometimes we have to slow down and simply find a way even when we aren’t a hundred percent, and when our race is over we are greeted by those who have gone before us. When my race is over, I’ll see my grandparents again. I’ll get to hold Grandma in my arms and hear her voice again. I’ll get to hear Granddad tell me how proud of me he is. I’ll get to kneel before the Father and tell Him how much I love Him. When we finish the race, it’s like we’re all part of something special. That’s what it’s like when we live our lives for Christ. It has its ups and downs, but the end reward is worth it.

"For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing." (2 Timothy 4:6-8)

Confession

When I started this blog two-and-a-half years ago, I opened up about many of the things I went through before and during my first marriage. I took anyone who read this blog on a journey with me. I’ve made it a point to be honest about who I am, my struggles, and what I believe in. My goal has always been to use my struggles to help encourage others, yet it seems as though I haven’t done that as much of late. In fact, I haven’t really written anything all that personal in awhile. Some would surely say that’s a good thing, as maybe I got too personal in a public forum, while others might say I’ve strayed from my original goal. Either way, I’ve been quiet, and until recently I didn’t know why. I could blame all the other writing I’ve been doing, or my preparations for starting back at school in January, but none of those would be right. The reality of my situation is that I’ve been hiding internal issues because I didn’t want anyone to read my blog and think I’m a whiner. I didn’t want to appear weak, but in truth, deep down, isn’t that what we all are? So, as my first anniversary creeps ever closer, I have a lot to confess. As always, I hope something good comes from what I write.

Ever since I got out of the military in 2006, I’ve struggled with depression. At first, it was awful. I sat around the apartment for four months gaining weight, growing hair, and sitting in front my computer playing World of Warcraft for hours each day. I couldn’t find a job in Columbus, which demoralized what little self-confidence I had, and I eventually decided to go ahead and finish classes at Ohio State instead. Originally the plan was to go part-time, instead I felt forced to go full-time. I started dealing with all kinds of stomach issues and it only got worse in the fall of 2006 when my grandmother died. With all due respect to the rest of my family, she was the one person I believed had always supported and believed in me. So when she passed away, it crushed me. At this point, I’d pulled away from my wife and, without even realizing it, she’d also pulled away from me. I don’t think she ever really knew what was going on in me. I was just depressed, and it wasn’t one of those depressions where I’d lay in bed all day crying or anything stereotypical like that. It was more like a constant burden on my shoulders that held me in place, feeling sad and alone. In the eighteen months prior to my now-ex-wife leaving, there was little joy coming from me. Instead I put up a façade as much as I could to keep people from getting in.

So why do I give this background now? Well because I’ve realized that I didn’t just struggle with depression in separate bouts after the military and then after my divorce, but it’s been one long struggle. Even now, there are days where I’m happy and playing around with Jenn only to be lost in a depressed world just minutes later. It’s gone away some as I’ve been trying to take a more active approach to combating it - which for me is praying, doing all I can to communicate with Jenn, and writing - but it’s still there from time to time. It comes with no warning, or so I thought. I started realizing that a lot of my depression now comes when I’ve been thinking of my past mistakes, especially in my first marriage and when I make mistakes now with Jenn. To help compensate for those mistakes, I tend to not go after things I want, and instead give in when Jenn desires something opposite of what I want. I tend to think so poorly of myself that I see everyday things that Jenn does as her not wanting to spend time with me, etc. The truth is: I feel so horribly about myself, who I am, and what I’ve done that I feel unworthy to be content. At the root of it, I understand now, is unforgiveness.

What’s frustrating about this is that I’ve written about forgiveness before. I once wrote that I was forgiving myself and was moving on. But in the end, I didn’t. The truth is that I’ve forgiven everyone who has hurt me: my biological father who couldn’t handle fatherhood and left; the kid that abused me at age four; the ex-wife who left me, knowing that my greatest fear was abandonment; as well as many others who have hurt me. But I’ve been unable to forgive my own misdeeds. I still see my own mistakes in how I’ve treated people, and I shrink away. The worst part about it is that I know who keeps bringing this up in me, and despite all my prayers, I still deal with it every day. I’ve read scripture, talked to a few people, and confessed all of this to Jenn, and yet I’m bound and barely breathing. I just want to be able to let go of my own failures!

So why do I write about this now? Well, some of this is a repeat of past writings but I want to be real with people, as I always have. I want people to see that being a Christian doesn’t mean we don’t struggle. I struggle quite a bit actually. I also write because this is my form of counseling. I get my thoughts on paper and can examine them. Writing has become my release. Yet, there is one more reason I write this confession: I want to be free. I want my friends who care about me to know I need their prayers. I want to enter the second year of my marriage knowing that these gaping wounds on my heart are healing. I write this because I know that the best way to love God, my wife, and the kids that will come one day, is to finally drop this weight I carry. Confession is freedom.