Christmas with a Crank

So I interrupt this dialogue (although it's not yet much of a dialogue) on compassion and grieving and more "important" issues, to just share a little frustration on a situational level. I've received some notes and comments here or there from curious "insiders" asking... "so how are you really doing?" or something along those lines. And as I say to all of those people, "What you see on the blog is what you get." Seriously... what do I have to gain here by pretending I'm doing better than I am? By giving God more credit than He deserves for what He's doing in this particular "healing process"? It's not to keep or please an audience, that's for sure... In fact, "analytics" tell me that more people read when things are really bad, than when things are good. (The old "train wreck" effect... Kind of like how people always hit the brakes when driving by an accident on the morning commute, even when their lane isn't really affected.) No... there's nothing to gain, in this venue, by pretending I'm doing better than I am. I know... it's weird, but I'm really doing this well. It's like some people are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there's no way I could really be doing this well, considering... Especially during the holidays...

**THUD** (That's the other shoe dropping.) (It's a big thud. I wear size 14's.)

Okay, so maybe that's a little over-dramatic. But in all seriousness, the last two days were definitely the hardest 48 hours I've endured this holiday season.

The summary is that TJ and I are now back at home at 432 Butterfly, having cut short our stay in Ohio for the Aschliman Family Christmas. The entire weekend was basically one giant "melt-down" exibit. Sure, there were times when TJ was okay... but the literal majority of the time was spent "managing" him... Either reprimanding him for making one of his cousins cry, or trying to console him in his own teary fit, or just cuddling him in his sweet little neediness. He was over-tired, over-stimulated, poorly-nourished... and... well... in my opinion... he just needed his Mommy.

After a 2+ hour struggle to get him to settle down and "get control" this afternoon at around nap-time (which I lost, by the way... my first ever such defeat... EVER...), I made the call to forego snowman building time this afternoon and dinner this evening and church with the family tomorrow, and we just called it a year and headed home. Christmas dinner at my parents is seriously an annual event of epic proportions. Perhaps my favorite meal of the entire year... and I'm a "foodie"... a culinary enthusiast. We're talking king crab legs, marinated petit filet mignon (my dad does better steaks than Ruth's Chris), some sort of greens salad with cranberries and walnuts or something, maybe au gratin or baby red-skin potatoes usually, some great wine, and my mom's specialty-- home-made tiramisu to finish it off. It seriously broke my heart to leave before dinner tonight. It's the family event of the year.

And poor TJ missed the snowman-fest this afternoon. Each of the boys (he has 3 boy-cousins on my side) got a snow-man kit for Christmas-- a plastic carrot-nose, a scarf and stocking cap, and button-char-coalie looking things for the eyes and smiles. They were going to put them to use this afternoon, as my parents had 3 inches of fresh pack-able snow on the ground.

Yes... He was that bad. Bad enough to miss all of this. If the dozen-or-so spankings didn't hurt his little rear end enough (remember, I view spanking as a "last resort"), certainly the damage he did to himself throwing his temper tantrums (he bruised his wrist at nap-time today, banging on the door, the floor, and his daddy) will be a stout reminder to him in the morning of his struggles. I was seriously brought to tears of frustration and helplessness several times. My poor family could only stand by and listen from afar as I tried to console, scold, reprimand, punish, or otherwise extend grace to a horribly behaved 3-year-old. Again... he was over-stimulated, over-tired, and oh... by the way... I was trying to get him to lie down in the 4th different bed this week.

How can I NOT begin to really doubt myself? How can I not sense that this is somehow unraveling? How can I not come to the sudden understanding of my own limitations as a father and as a person and realize there's just no way I can "do this". How can I not at least start to wonder if I'm ruining the life of this little child? The weekly travel my job requires... The commitments I try to keep up with... But seriously, do I say "no" to a family Christmas? Do I quit my job or simply tell a customer "no, I can't make it this week, ask my competitor to take my place"? Do I tell my church, "sorry... can't serve... find someone else"? Do I run the risk of literally driving myself insane and cut out my work-out or "quiet" times? (If you suggest a simple "yes" to any of these rhetorical questions, please don't you dare say so out loud... You can't possibly understand the depth of the conviction of my priorities... not that any of these compares to the priority I put on my son... But herein lies the crux of the rhetoric.)

You see, my friends... Family life was simply meant to be managed in partnership between a husband and wife, at least as my my own personal experience has revealed it. I could use this as an opportunity to get on my marriage/divorce soap-box, but I've already been there and done that. (See "Choices"-- posted September 11, 2008 on this same blog.) I learned early on that I cannot be a mommy to TJ. I can only be me-- his Daddy. I cannot be Leslie. Though, as I've mentioned before, she has indeed left parts of her with me-- some of her discernment, her personality, her quiet strength... all these things and more will always be a part of me (which is why she will always be "my better half"). But even in my best moment as a man and a father... even in my best moment when I'm wielding the weapons she left me with before leaving this life... I am still only a fraction of the parenting machine we were together.

I confess, as I drove back toward Chicago this afternoon, (after all his obstinance at bed-time and nap-time at Mimi and Papa's house, TJ fell asleep in his car seat-- not 10 minutes into the 3.5 hour drive back home), I was frustrated. Defeated. Full of doubt. I would have been angry, had I been able to muster up the strength. But I was just spent. I asked God, similarly as I have before... "Certainly, Lord... This cannot be more pleasing to You than the way it was before... When we were a 'whole family'??!!! Certainly, this is not Your better judgment... to have her be with You, and not here!? Certainly, TJ needs his Mommy... I need my wife and my partner... more than you need her there...??!! HOW IS THIS BETTER!!!?? HOW IS THIS YOUR WILL??!!"

...

A very dear friend of mine turned me on to a Christian singer-songwriter named JJ Heller. JJ sings a song-- presumedly to her son or daughter, or at least through the voice of a parent to his/her child-- called "keep you safe". My friend says this song has always brought me and TJ to mind. It goes like this:

Quiet your heart. It's just a dream. Go back to sleep.
I'll be right here. I'll stay awake as long as you need me

To slay all the dragons and keep out the monsters. I'm watching over you.

My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.

You'll have your own battles to fight when you are older.
You'll find yourself frozen inside. But always remember...

If you feel alone, facing the giants, and you don't know what to do...

My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.


This song is beautifully sung and written. I used to envision myself singing it to TJ... or maybe God singing it to me. It has just been lately-- in the midst of bouts with the "Terrible Threes", similar to what we experienced this weekend-- that I've learned to listen to this song with a new outlook... Namely... That God is singing this song to TJ.

You see... This weekend is only a reminder. A gut-check. Am I really trusting that God has me planted firmly in the palm of His hand? And, if in my wreckless abandon, it becomes too easy to just take that leap of faith-- (After all... what, at this point, do I have to lose?? My life? What life do I truly have left to live, compared to that which I've lost?)-- what about when it comes to TJ? Do I trust that God has TJ's best interest in mind? Do I trust that He will provide for TJ? Even in the face of the full understanding of my own inadequacy as a single parent? If God is God-- Lord of my life-- then He is Lord of TJ. If He is providing to meet my needs day-by-day, then certainly, He will provide even more fully for TJ. "Let the little children come unto me..."

Again... I hear the words... whispers evolving into booms like thunder... "In your weakness, I AM MADE STRONG!!!"

God, bless my child. I am incapable of loving him and caring for him and guiding him and nurturing him the way Leslie would, if she was here. But You took her from us. Certainly, You will provide in her absence...? But how!? In faith, Abraham laid Isaac on the altar. In faith, I give TJ to you. Teach me, Father. And where I fall short... show Yourself strong.