This Mythical Life

I imagine, like most parents, we give our kids opportunities to earn money doing odd jobs around the house. We encourage hard work and reward it with financial compensation. We’ve even given opportunities to pursue their entrepreneurial dreams by helping them pursue babysitting jobs, painting pet rocks and yard work gigs.

But the other day, our G-man (8 years old) ventured out on his own and imposed a legit “big brother tax” on his little sister. I glanced into the TV room and noticed Willow (6 years old) had her piggy bank on the floor so I asked her about it. She responded “I had to pay G a dollar for a shoe shine.” I said, “Wait, you had to pay him a real dollar for an imaginary shoe shine?” Turns out, the answer was yes.

I was emotionally conflicted at that point. On the one hand, G definitely took advantage of his gullible sister with the big imagination for his financial gain and that is definitely a no-no. On the other hand, as a dad and big brother myself, I was a little proud. In the end, I made him give her the dollar back and we had a talk about how he should not manipulate people and that it is wrong to do what he did. Then I gave him a high-five, in my mind.

The other day, we went out to eat lunch with our 8 year-old son, G-man. All the other kids were busy doing other things and it was a good opportunity to spend a little alone time with him. We took him to a little cafe here in town called La Madeline, or as he called it La Madames. He ordered a bowl of pasta and was super stoked because they had all you could eat bread and butter. That kid loves him some bread. After a bit, a gentleman walked by and asked him why he wasn’t in school and then laughed after being told that we homeschool. A few minutes later he came back by and ribbed G a bit more about something or other. After he left, G looks at me and says “I feel like that guy is sweatin’ me.”

I’m not sure where he learned that line, but that dude was definitely sweatin’ him.

Our oldest daughter, Peanut, was showing interest in our waiter at Cotton Patch last night. Apparently he had an earring and that’s all it takes for her. She said “It’s like that star filter that you can put on pictures in Instagram. He’s like just a normal looking dude and then he turns his head and I see his earring and then all I see is stars.” Oh dear.

The plain and smiple truth is that I’m not much for cooking. I certainly can do the basics, things like pastas, grilled cheese and even hard boiled eggs (with a little assistance from Google). But, I have always had a part of me that wanted to do more in the kitchen.

I think part of that reason is that my brother loved to cook. He was in every way, a fantastic, passionate cook. He loved everything about it and his home was full of cookbooks and Saveur magazines that helped feed his passion. I have many memories of him, as a young teenager, getting up early and helping Granny make her buttermilk biscuits and red-eye gravy when we visited her. As an adult, he loved re-creating our Granny’s buttermilk biscuits as a way of staying connected to his past.

This afternoon, as my wife was preparing our Thanksgiving feast, I decided to jump in and help where she would let me. She put me on pie crust duty for the mini-pies we were making. As I sprinkled the flour on the counter and began rolling out the crust, I looked at my hands. I could not help but think about how often Ben must have done the same things with his hands. They would have had flour or some seasoning or another on them and that would have been a happy place for him. And there it was, a brief moment of connection, of understanding, of love.

I will never be the cook he was but I am going to keep trying. I loved feeling him with me there, in that moment.

This has been a tough year for me, one of my hardest in fact. Losing my brother so suddenly has sent me reeling in ways that I could not plan for or anticipate. Grief is a strange thing in that way. As I am climbing out of the depths, I have decided to spend more time actively focusing on the best things in my life, both big and small.

To start out, I thought I would go with a super big thing and write a small thing about my wife and our partnership. You see, our marriage has been full of minefields, storms, chaos and shadows. But all that has seemed like nothing to fear, because i have her. As we approach our 15th wedding anniversary, I am struck for the millionth time how perfect she is for me, and thus, how perfect our partnership is. I do not use the word “perfect” in the sense that she or our marriage are without fault, because that would not be true. But, for me and what fuels my heart and soul, she truly is perfect. There is this song by Andrew Peterson that i have heard many times called “Dancing in the Minefields.” Tears stream down my face every single time I hear it because of how the lyrics reflect my heart for her. Here are a few of the verses:

Well, “I do” are the two most famous last words The beginning of the end But to lose your life for another I’ve heard Is a good place to begin ‘Cause the only way to find your life is to lay your own life down And I believe it’s an easy price For the life that we have found And we’re dancing in the minefields We’re sailing in the storms And this is harder than we dreamed But I believe that’s what the promise is for So when I lose my way, find me And when I loose love’s chains, bind me At the end of all my faith, till the end of all my days When I forget my name, remind me ‘Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man So there’s nothing left to fear So I’ll walk with you in the shadowlands Till the shadows disappear ‘Cause He promised not to leave us And His promises are true So in the face of all this chaos, baby, I can dance with you So let’s go dancing in the minefields Let’s go sailing in the storms Oh, let’s go dancing in the minefields And kickin’ down the doors Oh, let’s go dancing in the minefields And sailing in the storms Oh, this is harder than we dreamed but I believe that’s what the promise is for

So, through all the loss, the doctor’s appointments, the financial struggles, the daily frustrations and madness, there has also been so much wonderful. Being with you is the easiest thing I have ever done because you chase away my shadows and we just dance. Forever and ever, amen.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Gs3fg_WsEg

“I thought we had more time.”

I can’t shake this phrase today in thinking about my brother. As adults, we were not as close as we would have preferred. Living so far apart made that difficult but, I thought we had more time to grow close once again. We were as different as brothers could be. I’m tall, he wasn’t. He was an artistic creative soul, I am more logical. I have a beard, he struggled to get a soul patch going. My favorite hobbies are indoor things, his were mostly outdoors. But in all of these things, we still had so much in common and I thought we had more time to explore those things.

I thought we had more time. Those 6 words will haunt me as they will many others who were in his life. But we don’t, and I don’t. All I can do now, is wrestle with this beast that I’m so unfamiliar with and learn. Learn what losing Ben will teach me. To love much more intentionally. To live more free. To create without fear. To be humble and honest about my failings. To see beauty in all of God’s creation. You see, all these are areas he excelled in and so he still inspires me, as a big brother should.

Bear with me as I may use this forum to share some of my grief but also to look forward.