View from the Top (Before I Go Over the Hill)

me, last week

That's right: tomorrow I turn 40 years old.

Just as I have heard countless others before me reflect, "I don't feel 40."
    How is it that time marches so slowly and deliberately to such moments and yet we are surprised when we get to them?
    I see our children and I remember so much of my life at their ages--I'm not the "senile and forgetful elder" I imagined so many 40+ year olds to be when I was 10, 12, or 14 (my children's ages).  Though the world has dramatically changed from the days when I grew up in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana, I can surprisingly remember and relate to my kids struggles, excitement, relationships, anxiety, and more; and yet, because the world has dramatically changed since I grew up, I'm glad that I grew up when I did, and even where I did.

I'm thankful for the people who helped me grow up, and the moments that shaped me along the way.
   I'm thankful for my father--his entrepreneurial, artistic spirit that really caught fire when he recommitted his life to Christ and pursued faith and Kingdom as he once pursued wealth.  I'm thankful that I had the front-row seat to a transformation that even my mother thought he would "grow out of"--I'm thankful he grew into it, leading to leaps of faith that inspired my own faith and leadership even years down the road.  I'm thankful he's become "Poppy" to my children and found new life in nurturing their young lives.

Christmas 2011 (Jillian missed this by 2 months)

  I'm thankful for my mother--for her journey from a Guyanese farmer's daughter to American mother of three.  I'm thankful for the years she became acculturated to American life the same as me, through Sesame Street and black-and-white reruns of so many shows.  I'm thankful for the attitude of gratitude that is so deeply imbedded in my soul because of her journey; and for even the color of my skin, my hair, and my eyes that link me to a diversity that I'm proud to share today, though it once caused me such pain--by the grace of God, the ignorance of others has made me wiser.
  I'm thankful for my father's parents--for my grandfather who now walks on water on the other shore; I can never write nor say enough of his influence throughout our family.  I'm even thankful for my grandmother whose constant demand for "better" is stamped within my DNA--and I'm thankful for the grace that has led me to pursue it differently than her.
  I'm thankful for my mother's parents, who (though not as involved in my childhood) left an impression of diversity and hardwork upon my life that I will never forget.
  I'm amazed my brother Brian and sister Indra survived me--I have been a terrible older brother for most of my life, and I'm sure that I could have been better even when I wasn't so terrible.  Of my few regrets in life, I regret not being a better friend to either and knowing them better.  Being the oldest, I charged out into life quickly while they were still pretty young--and then I failed to look back, and relate back to them.  I'm not too surprised that I'm now 40, but I'm always surprised at how much older they are, as if I still expect them to be the kids they were when I left at 18.  But they are well beyond kids these days, and I hope to be the better brother by being a better friend in the future--to them and Michael, my brother-in-law.
  I'm especially thankful for 2 of my many cousins--for David who loved basketball like me (I miss the hours of hoops); and for "John-Boy", whose life and gift to humanity was cut short at 14--there are special moments that break my heart because I remember him and how he did not have the opportunity to see what I see, do what I do, or go where I go.

I've now spent more years with my wife than without her.
   I can not write enough about Keli, not here, not now, nor in the rest of my lifetime.  I am not only better because of her in my life, I am constantly aware by her life how much better I can be.
   My life before her felt so tragic and fatalistic--perhaps at the impact of my cousin's brief life--and I could never imagine  life beyond mid-20's.  Then I was "smote"--with one glimpse of her smile and sparkling eyes on an August morning in central Indiana, I was forever and irrevocably drawn to Keli.  A day or two later, at a good old-fashioned invitation to tea in her dorm room, I had my first glimpse of life beyond 20-something and into 80-something--and it was with her.  I feel that each day with her since is inevitably leading us to a moment like that in the future.
   John Ondrasik (Five for Fighting) sings a song with the chorus, "If God made you, then He's in love with me."  I best know and experience the love of God for me through the gift of my wife, my companion.

There are a lot of Campers in this 6th Ave photo

And with my wife, came more family.
    I'm thankful for my inlaws--for all of them and their amazingly different personalities and ways of relating than my family of origin.  I'm thankful for your love for us and for our kids.  I'm thankful for how many of you relocated and partnered with us in Alabama.  I'm thankful for the relationship that Keli's parents and mine have and maintain even without our presence among them.

Grace is going to hate these pictures

    I'm thankful for an amazing daughter who is as rich an undeserved gift as her name suggests, Grace. So much of life bears imprints from biological, and so much from social--how you have captured so much of me in you is really a mystery.  Your crazy arguments and dramatic overplays of each and every situation are themselves an argument for cosmic karma revisiting my obnoxious teen years upon myself now as a parent!  And yet, you are uniquely you--loyal to those you love, a creative rebel, a girly barbarian, and sincerely gifted musically.  I already see it coming:  that day in which you charge into life and calling and don't look back, as I did--it simultaneously saddens and excites me.  Please do not mistake our discipline as doubt in who you were created to be, or our cautions as obstacles; we really are attempting to prepare you for a fantastic future.

Z & T with Marco last week

   I'm thankful for Titus--"God comforted us with the coming of Titus" (2 Corinthians 7:6) -- though you feel deeply like your mother and are like her in so many ways, your greatest likeness to me is in what I feel has been my greatest gift: imagination.  Because of their dreams, dreamers are perhaps the most misunderstood--yet without dreamers, the world would be dismal, dull and predictable.  Do not let the world, whether one person or many, squash or cause you to put away your dreaming--it will one day serve you and God's Kingdom purposes within/through you.  I pray you find the keys to unlocking a dream's potential--dependance on the dream-giver and determination--He will carry you through and give the strength to join your imagination and your intellect to result in resolute efforts to see dreams become reality and bring the Kingdom closer.

   I'm thankful for Zeke--the youngest, though not the least of our children.  You have the unfortunate dilemma of bearing the greatest resemblance to me--and so we are linked beyond name; others will be reminded of me when they see you, and I hope that I leave a legacy that makes that more positive than negative.  You also carry my greatest learning trait: you're a mimic--watching and repeating is how I grew to apply so much so quickly, just as you seem to do things easily today.  Be warned, as there is a danger in mimicry: easily "doing" can mask whether or not you are "being".  While you apply yourself to copying the physical, repeating the material, and producing the external results, remember to judge yourself by what you learned, what you will remember, and how you were changed for the good.  You're different, too: braver than I was, and you have a social charisma that exceeds anything I will ever possess.
   For all our kids: we will always love you, sacrifice for and defend you, and we will always support you--we're proud of you, we believe in you, we can't wait to see what you will do and the fulness of who you will become.

I'm humbled by the people God has put in our path.
   I have not (yet?) pursued a post-graduate education, but God granted me excellent teachers of an extra-graduate nature that have enriched, shaped, and paved the path in remarkable ways.
   Glendale Church of God, which became the Church at the Crossing, was the village who set the stage for my life.  Mable Collett, my elementary Sunday School teacher, is a giant on my path--I learned courage from a retired military elder who continued to step into the void of teaching the "rowdy 5" when everyone else felt it time to take a break.
   In addition to my birth family, I was blessed with a ministry couple who were in many ways like an extra set of spiritual parents who encouraged, inspired, believed in, defended, and sacrificed for me from the time I was a boy.  Even in the midst of their own personal pain in the past few years, I have heard from them discreetly and through others, encouraging me in these big steps to the Middle East.  Because of their role in my life, I am often asked about recent events--I know nothing and neither owes me an explanation--I owe them more than I can ever repay; a snot-nosed, scrawny, Indian, farm-kid from Nowhere would never have had the faith in himself to follow God these 40 years without their participation in my journey.  You will always be heroes of mine for different reasons.
   My best professor in my college years never taught any of my classes but invited me to be a student; Jim Lyon began his ministry at North Anderson Church of God, now Madison Park, the same day I arrived to attend Anderson University.  That gracious first conversation and invitation to lunch, that led to an open door invitation to reflect and ask for the next four years was worth more than I paid in tuition for the next 14 years.  I learned so much, not just in those few conversations, but also in observation of your leadership, your vision-casting, your story-telling, even your parenting--your socratic interactions became the modus operandi for how we have mentored young leaders.  And yet, for all of that, the way you stepped up not only to support us in this calling to the Middle East, but to encourage your friends and peers to support us as well literally made the way for us to be here today.  You have been and continue to be a great mentor.

3 of sources of pride
and humility

   Perhaps my/our greatest inspirations are those we have helped to inspire to faith and faithfulness along the way.  From the Anderson University years including ministry to Mt. Carmel, Illinois; to Tennessee and Scott Memorial Church of God in Chattanooga; to Alabama ministries, particularly Riverchase and Decatur 6th Avenue--there have been countless lives that have gone on in higher understanding, greater service, deeper sacrifice, and further reach and resolve than anything we could have exemplified.  It is our greatest joy to refer to each of you as friends.

At the top...
   I used to sit on the top of our barns and watch the sun set for nearly 360 degrees in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana.  I knew of far off places from stories told by my mother, and missionaries like my grandparents or their friends, and I had seen enough National Geographic magazines to know this was a large, amazing planet.  I would watch the sun set in the distance, wondering where it was retreating to and whether or not I would see those places one day.

we love this pic

   I always related to that Biblical dreamer Joseph, though I never dreamed I would serve the land he did.  To be in Egypt now is continually surreal; I can walk along the Nile, hear the wind through the reeds, and see the tops of pyramids in the distance.  The needs are daunting, the task is almost larger than I can dream, and our inadequacies lack adequate description to be accurate--yet, even though we're still figuring it all out, I/we know we're exactly where we're supposed to be.
   I get to learn and serve and figure this out with my wife--how great is that?  We are a part of a Team and a plan that doesn't pigeon-hole us to one place and one task, but gets our input and uses our experiences/gifts to fit a variety of needs, in a variety of places, with a variety of people.  We are grateful for the leadership of the Nachtigall's, and their growing friendship with our family, as well as the friendships with our growing Team.  For a couple like us who live to inspire and facilitate positive change, this is certainly the top.

3W Team, last week--can't wait to add our newest members to next year's group pic :)

Looking over the edge...
  There is so much I want to read, and learn, and write; I've been mentally formatting and planning little books in my brain that need to start being processed in black and white.  We need to return to Arabic lessons, and I want to do some independent French and German studies to try to recapture some of those lost lessons in the cobwebs of my mind that are being bumped as we attempt to remember and apply Arabic.
  This is the crucial time for our kids--some of the last formative years that we have with them before they start carving out their own paths beyond us.  We have been continually aware that what we're doing now may be more about God's preparation for their future than the results we can produce in our own lifetimes.
   It's nearly 19 years of marriage for us--impossible to believe, and not nearly enough--I'm excited about the ongoing future I share with my wife.
   There are new young people to inspire and encourage--they're already here, in this region, wrestling with direction and purpose and calling and destiny--somewhere our paths will cross and we'll get to travel with them for a bit.  That's exciting, it's why we're here--and, as with all those like them before, we will receive more than we pass on and become better ourselves for the experience.  We're looking forward to it.

Halftime?
   If the Lord continues to patiently wait rather than return, is this my halftime--or with current/future medical advances, have I merely reached a third? ;)
   Or, was halftime some unknown moment before this?

The "potholes" in Tanourine, Lebanon
(the itty-bitty people at the top end of the natural bridge
were among the first to repel into this natural wonder)

   When I repelled in Lebanon, I could keep touch with the face of the abyss for about half way down; descent was a matter of strategic, though clumsy, hops and landings.  And then, halfway down, I could no longer reach as the earth withdrew from me.  All that was left was to dangle or to drop--and if to drop would it be cautiously and slow, or quickly and wild?  (You can imagine the urging of those on the other end.)
   Like that repelling trip, the first half of my life was mostly clumsy and cautious--I played it safe early and pushed off harder into bigger jumps later.  But now I feel the earth withdrawing; I'm not near the end yet, but the voices of those who have gone before are a bit stronger.  I'm not content with dangling, and so I know what I will do: if the moments after this are short or long, days or decades, I'm throwing myself into that unknown with a smile on my face.

Look out below: here I come, over the hill...